Luther's Pride Part 51

Despite Jowangshin’s protestations, Luther left them in suspense for the remainder of the carriage ride. They discussed other topics amongst themselves, but Luther’s eyes remained on the carriage window. The nighttime countryside rolled past, and his love of travel tugged on his heart. He’d lost count of the number of times he’d sat in a carriage, ridden in a wagon, sailed on a ship, or trekked across dangerous terrain on foot, horseback, or sled. 

Travel was a freedom he’d longed for in his youth, and when the opportunity arose, he pursued it. He’d told himself and others that he was doing it for research. To see what he might discover about his arcanum outside the empire, since the University would not accept him as a student of magic. 

The partial truth satisfied himself and his father, but Criella had taken his decision personally, despite her refusal to join him. She’d played it safe and had regretted it ever since. Luther realized that now. Over the years, her regrets must have hardened into resentments, and in his absence, he became a target for those ill feelings until his sudden return. 

She must have been so confused.

With all of that, and his father’s funeral, Criella must have been in a volatile state. Now, she was at peace. He felt for her with his spirit, moving into that well inside himself and following her stream to its source. The utter peace of her spirit puzzled him. If it were him in her place, he imagined he might feel some anxiety, wandering his father’s halls as a ghost, only visible in the weird light of the magic crystals. Was it a side-effect of death? Was she unable to feel such emotions because of her lack of biological components? 

Luther had no answers. The study of death was often too close to necromancy for the comfort of anyone in authority. In the absence of scholars, scripture became the authority on such matters. The average person could question any scholar, but to question a priest? Blasphemy.

Still, his father must have done some research into it. Searching the library or his journals for that information could take time Luther didn’t have. He needed to deal with Branan and prepare for his journey into the mountains to find the dark lord’s tomb. 

Cerebrion’s life’s work had slipped from his grasp when he was on the cusp of completion. He’d located the tomb, but not yet been able to mount the expedition to it. The Feothe clan had served as his father’s exploratory force. They brought back the details from their dangerous journeys into the mountains, which his father used to investigate the range. 

Luther wondered if the Feothe union had lost any members from their journeys. The mountains were far more dangerous than the valley. They bordered the barbarian wastes, and the barren lands often drove tribesmen to journey into the mountain ranges in search of food. Their trespass was Luther’s responsibility now, to protect the people and resources of the Empire. No doubt Branan and his spouses had worked as his father’s enforcers countless times. 

The terrain itself could kill, if you were unskilled in its traversal or unlucky. A slip of a stone was enough to kill a man, not to mention an avalanche or a landslide. Flash floods from rain or snowmelt could sweep away whole towns. 

Then there was the fauna. What man, terrain, and weather could not kill became a feast for the starving beasts of the mountains. Great mountain cats, bears, griffons, chimeras, and beasts of legend hunted between the peaks. Luther had seen some horrors in his lifetime, but he’d brave all of them again for a chance to hold Criella’s hand in his one more time. 

It strained Luther’s imagination to picture the gown-clad women surrounding him, marching with him on a trail into dangerous territory, and living rough. Jowangshin might endure the hardships best with her training from the temple. Helena was fighting fit, and he had no doubt her training as a soldier would serve her well in the endeavor. Eira and Rhosyn, however, were delicate and estate-raised. They had minimal combat training and had yet to experience the brutality of nature, with youth still clinging to their cheeks. He’d have to prepare them somehow if they wished to come with him. 

That was, of course, making the large assumption that his wives would understand. Criella had agreed to his journey, but the others? Luther had to wonder if they’d understand. The dark lord was history’s most feared villain. He featured in the tales told to children as a terrifying figure who listened to the whispers of ghosts and stole their powers. Good always triumphed in the tales, of course, but not without significant cost. 

Criella had paid that cost so that Luther could triumph against Branan. He’d see it done. 

During the ride, the conversation carried on, with the others discussing the duke’s castle and the nobles they saw at the party. His wives knew more of the local nobility than he did. Apparently, the general attitude toward them had grown uneasy. The Le Fey clan was half-ostracized at the affair. The duke clearly didn’t favor Luther, so the other nobles were hesitant to show favor toward him or his wives. 

Luther sighed. They’d be at the mansion soon, and he had to prepare for how to convince them to accept Criella’s current state, even if it went against their foundational beliefs. If he could sway Jowangshin, she might persuade the others, but to do so, he’d have to convince her to embrace truths outside of her education. 

“So, are we going to talk about the dragon in the room?” Helena asked, raising her voice over the din of the carriage wheels and the horses’ hooves. 

Luther turned his eyes toward her, looking into Helena’s gaze to sense what she was talking about. The expression was one he hadn’t heard in a while, and it made his lips slide into a half-faced grin. “What dragon is that, Hel?” 

“You still have Criella’s arcanum. It didn’t leave you when she died,” Helena said. “You demonstrated it on the road to the duke’s. We believe you that you didn’t willingly walk away from her pyre. How could you have known? But why didn’t you return?” 

“And how do you still have it?” Jowangshin asked. “Even after we burned her body and her spirit ascended? Any spiritual connection to her should sever with death. That is how it always works with unions.” 

“I’ll admit, I’m curious as to how your arcanum works, given its unique nature,” Eira said. 

Rhosyn nudged Luther with her elbow when he didn’t answer. 

“I don’t have any answers,” Luther said, returning his eyes to the carriage window and its opaque darkness. “My arcanum has no documentation since I’m the first known case of it since the legends surrounding Annwyn.” 

“It’s possible it existed before,” Jo said, having considered it. “But without a union, there’s no way to manifest it, so its bearers likely would have been designated as deficient and would’ve gone unmarried.” 

That was possible, but conjecture.

“It’s a fair point,” Helena said. “I don’t know that I would have married you if I’d believed you didn’t have one you were hiding.” 

Luther shrugged. “The arcane laws behind it are unknown to me. I can only report on my experiences, which may be anecdotal and not universal. I do not know if my arcanum functions the way it does because there is some reality behind it, or because my mind projects a reality upon it that makes sense of some greater unknown.” 

“No one’s expecting you to have all the answers, Luther,” Helena assured him. “But can you explain your side of it to us?” 

“We’re curious,” Jo explained. “Or I am, at least.” 

“Yes. Why don’t you explain everything?” Rhosyn asked, her tone dry and her voice tight. “I’m sure everyone will listen.” 

Luther sighed. “When I use my arcanum, my mind casts itself to a place like a pool of water - a deep well of magic. The pool contains the depths of our united power. Each of us has a channel that connects to this pool, in which magic travels to or from our spirits.” 

“Our spirits?” Jo asked. 

“I can travel along those paths to their source, which hover in different forms depending on the state of your spirits. When you’re calm, the vapors are calm. If agitated in some way, whether happy, sad, angry, or some other emotion, they change.” 

Luther didn’t know if his explanation made sense to them, but no one asked him for clarification. 

“Then, in my mind, I shift my spirit to match yours and join you. I mingle my spirit with yours, and that allows me to use your arcana,” Luther said. “If we match well, that’s when we feel pleasure from the bond, and I can cast your spells. If you reject me, or if I disrupt your spirit instead of matching with it, it causes us pain, and you push me out.” 

The women seemed to accept that. It made logical sense, even if they didn’t understand the exact causality behind the phenomenon. They’d experienced it, so they knew it to be true, but that didn’t mean they gleaned the truth. A clock could tell the time, and they could read its face, but they didn’t know the details of the gears and springs working within its body. 

“So what is my spirit like, right now?” Eira asked, curious. 

“Sad,” Luther answered. “Mostly. Yours fluctuates the most. You have a stormy spirit that flickers between grief, sadness, guilt, worry, fear, hatred, and a myriad of other emotions so quickly that it is often difficult for me to match you for more than a moment without your focus aiding me.” 

Eira nodded, taking his description into account. 

“Hatred?” Helena asked. 

“I hate a lot of things,” Eira admitted. “Branan, my arcanum, myself, Lucas, the duke, my ineffectuality, my inability to save Criella, and the list goes on.” 

“Oh, Eira,” Helena said, shaking her head. “You sound like you need a hug.” 

Eira nodded. She took Luther’s hand and moved his arm, draping it over herself. She cuddled into his side, and he squeezed her to him, holding her close. She stilled, taking a deep breath. 

“What of Criella’s spirit?” Jo asked. “If you retain her arcanum, does that mean you still sense her?” 

Luther drew in a deep breath. “Yes.” 

“And what does her spirit feel like?” Jo asked. 

“Peaceful,” Luther answered. “Far more peaceful than the others. It doesn’t move or agitate the way yours do, which I assume means she’s at peace, somehow.” 

“Because she’s in heaven?” Jo asked. 

“Well, if distance doesn’t affect your ability, I guess that makes sense,” Helena said. 

Jo frowned. “You’d think being on a different plane of reality would sever the connection. The union ritual only lasts until death. Unions that have lost a member always see a proportional loss in strength. Is her spirit still supplying our pool with magic? Is she able to use her arcanum in heaven?” 

“Yeah, Luther, how is it that Criella is in heaven, and still connected to you?” Rhosyn asked, with the sarcasm so thick in her voice that no one missed it. 

The others turned their eyes toward Luther, the implications of Rhosyn’s sarcasm pushing them toward a realization they refused to make. In its place, confusion overtook them, and he saw fear and apprehension in their eyes without needing to investigate their spirits. 

The carriage passed through the manor gate, and Luther closed his eyes. They were home, but he had to wonder how long his wives would remain if they thought he was a necromancer. He’d pushed them to the limits of their goodwill over the last few days. It was difficult to imagine them standing with him after what he’d done. 

The servants weren’t there to greet them when they arrived. Luther had given them the day off to mourn Criella, as she’d given them when his father died. The memory of that carriage ride to this mansion hit Luther harder than he was ready for, and it gutted him, making him hold his stomach as he leaned forward and closed his eyes. 

“Are you okay?” Helena asked suddenly. 

“Grief,” Luther said, steeling himself to leave the carriage. “A momentary pain. Criella and I rode here like this, after my father’s funeral.” 

Eira squeezed herself tighter to him. Rhosyn and Jo were silent. Helena opened the carriage after Wyll opened the door. Faithful Wyll helped Helena, Jo, Eira, Luther, and Rhosyn from the carriage. Luther wanted to offer to see to the horses and relieve Wyll of his duties, but he had to do something far more cumbersome. 

“Thank you, Wyll,” Luther said, tipping the young man from his purse with the equivalent of a week’s wages. “See to the horses, and then turn in. You may take tomorrow off, in place of today, if you wish.” 

“Thank you, my lord,” Wyll said, stunned at the coin in his hand. “Thank you!” 

Luther nodded and led the way up the stairs and into the mansion. He held the door for the others, and they waited for him in the great hall. Eira stood near the stairs, waiting to ascend, but Luther gestured toward the library, and they followed him into it. 

Once in the library’s grand hall, Luther cleared his throat, searching the stacks for any sign of Criella. “Are you here?” He called, but remembered too late that she couldn’t hear him. Whatever spell upon the crystals made her visible, it did not affect the passage of sound or language. 

“Luther?” Helena asked, worry clear in her voice. “Are you okay?” 

“I’m right here,” Emily’s voice came from the end of the hall, where the chairs waited. She sat in the tall wingbacked chair with a small table before her. The book lying on the table was Anglethorpe’s Bestiarium, a hand-written bestiary several centuries old. Luther recognized it by its gilded pages and the beautiful illustration of a spiny sea serpent devouring a crab. 

“Oh,” Helena said, relieved. “You were looking for Emily.” 

“No,” Luther said, shaking his head. “Emily, please, if you don’t mind. I need to speak to my spouses.” 

Emily closed her book and set it on the small table beside her. “You’ve returned much sooner than I thought you would. Did something happen at the duke’s?” 

“No, though we did encounter a friend of yours,” Eira said, producing the wrapped parcel Callista had given them. 

“Oh!” Emily rose from her chair and took the book. She glanced at Luther and blushed. “This is actually a gift, for you, my lord, to thank you for all you’ve done for me.”  

Luther raised an eyebrow. Perhaps it was because his thoughts were elsewhere, but he couldn’t imagine he’d done that much for Emily. “You know I’ve sworn to kill your brother, correct?” 

Emily nodded. “Yes, my lord.” 

“You consider that a kindness?” Luther asked. 

Emily sighed. “I do not wish to shame him, or myself, my lord, but I have long sought to escape my family. My brother believes himself to be my master in all things, and I have suffered enough for his sake. His follies and whims…” Emily’s voice faded, and her expression hardened. 

“You don’t need to explain,” Luther said. “When you’re ready, you’re welcome to, of course, but perhaps this is not the time or place.” 

Emily curtsied. “Thank you, my lord.” 

“Please, help yourself to anything in the kitchen. The servants will return tomorrow, but until then, we are on our own,” Luther said, gesturing toward the door. 

Emily glanced at the parcel that she offered Luther, and he pressed it back into her hands. 

“Keep it until tomorrow, when I should be in a better place to receive it with the joy it deserves,” Luther said. 

Surprise faded into understanding, and Emily nodded. She held the wrapped book in her arms and left Luther and his wives in the library. She had not yet reached the door before Luther had begun to roam the racks, searching them. 

He searched the library, but did not find her. Had he imagined her? Was Rhosyn correct? His grief might have conjured her from his imagination, refusing to allow her to die and be at peace. No, he still felt her spirit. He sensed her, and he shared her spirit for a moment, casting her arcanum to take him to her. 

He arrived in the kitchen, but saw nothing in the firelight beside empty counters and a well-stocked pantry. He used her arcana once more, arriving in the hallway upstairs. He removed one of the crystals from its wall sconce and returned to the kitchen, holding it aloft. Its light paled in comparison to the kitchen flame, so he turned his back toward the hearth and let it illuminate his shadow. 

Criella’s red face stared back at him with an unsettling intensity from across the table. Her eyes widened in surprise when he met her gaze. The flicker of hope beat in his chest. He hadn’t imagined her. She was here, and visible beneath the arcane lights. He would have to fix one into a torch or lantern and carry it beside him to see her. She apparently did not need such a device to see him, though. 

He crooked his finger, beckoning her to follow him out of the kitchen. At first, she watched him, then she followed him, walking behind him with her tail behind her. She was even more graceful in her steps than before, and Luther wondered why she walked rather than floated, like the ghosts in the ancient tales. 

Luther stopped at the library’s door, but Criella did not. She passed through it as if she were solid, and the door was smoke. Luther’s hand on the door determined its solidity, but he followed after in time to hear Jowangshin, Helena, and the others gasp in surprise. 

The arcane lights in the library illuminated Criella without requiring the paltry stone in Luther’s hand. He laid it on the table and interposed himself between Criella and the others. Her naked form and ethereal beauty made her spiritual nature clear, if walking through the closed door hadn’t. 

“I don’t understand,” Jo said, her eyes wide. “How is this possible?” 

“Did heaven reject her?” Helena asked, not proposing the reason for such rejection. The duke might have if he were here. 

“No,” Luther said, glancing at Rhosyn’s shocked features. She had believed the Criella in his memories to be nothing more than a truth he’d convinced himself to believe. To find her ghost a true and undeniable fact witnessed with her own eyes? That upset her philosophies and turned them on their heads. 

“I have a confession,” Luther said. “I did not allow them to burn Criella’s body. I wished for more time to find a way to bring her back, so I hid her body.” 

The others stared at him. 

“I created an illusion of her with a charm,” Luther explained. “That duplication is what they burned on her pyre. I preserved her body with a second charm. Her spirit remains, and is here, with us.” He gestured to her as she stood beside him. “She cannot hear us, nor can we hear her. Yet she’s visible beneath the light from these crystals.” Luther held his crystal up so they could see it in his hand. 

“Why is she naked?” Eira asked. 

“I don’t know, but I’d ask why any spirit might have clothes,” Luther said. “What need have they for shame or protection from the elements? I suspect her form is based on her body out of an unconscious self-image, but once again, I find the arcane laws surrounding my reality unknown to me. The study of ghosts is forbidden.” 

“You didn’t burn her body?” Jowangshin asked. “You committed blasphemy?” 

“I saved her from the pyre,” Luther said. “I plan to bring her back.” 

Helena, Jo, and Eira exchanged glances. Rhosyn was too busy staring at Criella to meet their eyes. 

“How?” Jo asked. 

“I’m not sure yet,” Luther answered. “I have a lead on a source of knowledge that might aid me in my endeavor, but it will have to wait until after we have our vengeance on Branan and Lucas. But if I can find a way to return her spirit to her body, I can heal her body and restore her to life.” 

“You can heal her body?” Helena asked. “How?” 

“I have a magic ring,” Luther said. “I can infuse it with magic, and it will use that magic to heal her body if I place it upon her finger.” 

“Won’t that bring her to life?” Helena asked. 

“No, it only activates when on the living. If you die while wearing it, it has no effect. Otherwise, that would be–” 

“Necromancy,” Jo said, her voice shaking. “You’re discussing necromancy.” 

“Yes,” Luther said, unashamed. 

“You damn your soul to hell,” Jo warned. 

“I love her,” Luther said, his voice steady. “I would defy any god and damn myself to every hell if it meant saving her, or you.” 

“Or us?” Eira asked, her eyes wide. 

“I can’t confess to loving you as deeply as I love Criella,” Luther confessed. “I have known her longer, but the connection between our union is strong. I love each of you, and yes, I would defy death itself to preserve you from it.” 

Eira put her hand to her heart, clearly touched by his words. Helena looked between Criella’s spirit and Luther’s questioning gaze. Rhosyn appeared angry, but less so than before. Jo remained frozen in her spot, staring at Criella as if looking through her. Her mouth hung open, but no words escaped her. 

“I understand that I’ve asked too much of you,” Luther said. “You’ve left your families and loved ones to join this union, and at great risk to yourselves, given my situation. In exchange, I’ve offered you love, romance, and whatever comforts my wealth can provide. We’ve risked that by undermining the law and bringing Criella into our union before her match, which aided her greatly, but did not secure her victory.” 

“She died,” Jo said, still staring at her. “But here she stands.” 

“As a spirit, yes,” Luther said. “I seek to restore her.” 

“And you want our help to do so?” Helena asked. 

“Yes, or if not your direct aid, then your silence so that I may attempt to restore her,” Luther said. 

“It’s asking too much,” Rhosyn said. 

“It’s not,” Eira argued. “It’s like something out of a storybook, Rosie. How romantic!” 

“It’s blasphemy,” Jo said. “Sacrilege! It’s… it’s… It goes against the teachings! The law! It defies the will of all but the lowest gods.” 

“Did you not love Criella?” Luther asked, looking at Jo. They were friends, after all, and he’d seen them together enough to know that Jo’s feelings for Criella were not purely platonic. 

“That’s not fair!” Jo cried, pointing her finger at Luther. “Don’t you dare!” 

Helena rested her hand on Jo’s shoulder. “He’s not,” Helena said, swallowing. 

“We should burn her body,” Rhosyn said. 

“We should help him,” Eira said, grabbing Rhosyn’s wrist. “If it’s within our power, shouldn’t we do what we can to restore our wife?” 

“It’s necromancy,” Jo repeated, keeping her voice low. 

“Would it still be necromancy once she’s living again?” Helena asked. 

“Yes, but so what?” Eira asked. “It’s magic, that’s all. Forbidden because those in power fear its use.” 

“Forbidden by the gods,” Jo said. “Believe in their scriptures or not, all the gods above agree on the evils of necromancy and forbid its use. No good comes from the pursuit of evil, even if intending good.” 

“What does Criella think?” Helena asked, looking at her ghost. “Can we ask her?” 

Criella’s mouth moved, but no sound flowed out. Luther took a page from the desk and wrote upon it. He laid it out on the table and gestured to it. Criella examined the paper and its question: “Do you want us to restore you to life and reunite with you? Or do you wish to ascend?” 

Criella gestured to herself, then pointed at the paper at the blank space, and the quill. She mimed writing, and Luther understood. He picked up the quill and did his best to write her words. 

“Necromancy,” Jo said. 

“There’s no magic in a game of charades,” Eira said, arguing. 

“We shouldn’t be able to see her,” Jo argued. “We only see her with magic from the crystals. Necromancy!” 

“Charades with a ghost, defying heaven, spitting in the face of the gods…” Helena said, her hands on her hips. “I didn’t have those on the list of possibilities today.” 

The charades between them were quick. Criella had but to start her miming, and Luther guessed what she was about to say. They knew each other too well for his guesses to be wrong or far off the mark. Luther held up the page and read it aloud after Criella nodded her approval of his interpretations. “I fear Luther has defied the gods above. Burning my body would cast me to hell forever. I choose restoration.” 

“Damn you,” Jowangshin said, glaring at Luther. “Gods damn you for forcing us into this position, Luther!” 

Luther accepted the damnation with a silent nod. “Will you help us then?” 

“How?” Jo asked. “I won’t tell anyone at the temple what’s happened, but I can’t serve in my position while committing this blasphemy. The whole point of this union was to advance my position! And now I’m forced to resign.” 

“You needn’t resign,” Luther said, assuring her. 

“No, I must. You might be as double-faced as the fey are said to be, but I am an honest priestess, Luther. Bending the law was one thing, already a step too far, but now you ask me to betray my gods for Criella’s sake? To spare her from hell because you denied her ascent to heaven?” 

Jo slapped Luther across the face, hard enough to make him spin. He took the blow, catching himself on the nearby chair. No one moved to help him. 

“I’ll not apologize, for I am not sorry,” Luther said. “I love her, and I will not part with her. Either she lives, or I will die.” 

Jo raised her hand again, but Eira caught her wrist, holding her back despite Jo’s superior strength. 

“We love her too, do we not?” Eira asked, looking at Jo. “Please? Wife?” 

Jo crumpled to the floor, resigned. “Fine. I’ll do it for her, not you, her, but I cannot lie to my fellows and perform my duties. I am unclean. I’m a necromancer now, same as you.” 

Luther didn’t know what to say to that. He said nothing, but knelt beside Jo and hugged her. She pushed his arms away and stood. 

“I’m going to bed in my own chamber. Don’t disturb me,” Jo said, moving toward the door. She stopped at Criella’s ghost. The pain in both their expressions hung between them. Criella reached her hand toward Jo. Jo reached for her, then yanked her hand away as if it had stretched too close to an open flame. “Goodnight.” 

Helena sighed. “I’ll keep your secrets, Luther,” Helena said. “But I’ll not perform necromancy.” 

“Nor will I,” Rhosyn said, glaring at him. She turned her gaze toward Eira, who looked at her with such a pleading expression that she relented. “But I’ll not force you to burn her body even if I think you should. She might still ascend to heaven. We cannot claim to know the edicts of the gods outside their scriptures.” 

Luther nodded his thanks. 

“I’ll help however I can,” Eira said, holding his hand. 

“The best way for us to help is to have dinner and go to sleep,” Helena said. “Luther needs his training over the next few days if he plans to defeat Branan and Lucas.” 

“Good luck,” Rhosyn said. “You have your work cut out for you. Our husband is a stubborn, blasphemous mule.” 

“So, a husband,” Helena said. No one laughed, but Luther appreciated the effort at humor, even if it was at his expense. 

Criella hung her head. 

Luther wrote once more on the page: “We will restore you as soon as we can. I’ll journey to the tomb as planned, after we resolve our challenge with the Feothes. Until then, stay close, but do not let the servants see you. Stay out of the crystal’s lights if they are nearby.”

Criella nodded her acceptance, and Luther burned the page with a flash of magic, removing any evidence of their conversation. Better safe than sorry.