The stormcaller

The elf sheathed his weapon and reached down to haul Isak up. Bringing him close, the last king stared deep into Isak's eyes.

Isak returned the look, staring into pale, gold-flecked eyes as though the answer would be there. He felt a fog about his mind, enveloping his thoughts and slowing draining the strength from his body. The heavy sleep of the grave called to him, drawing him in to its embrace, but as his strength faded and his mind weakened, understanding suddenly unfurled in his mind like a bud bursting into flower. 'Now I know,' Isak said calmly.

Aryn Bwr hesitated, eyes narrowing as he tightened his grip on Isak. He had felt the change in Isak's mind and a flicker of uncertainty crept on to his face.

'Tell me, elf, can you remember your own name?'

The last king said nothing.

'Your name. Can you remember it?'

'I-' Uncertainly blossomed into loss, then fear. Aryn Bwr's true name had been struck from history, and like the Finntrail in Morghien's mind, that loss weakened his spirit.

'Can you remember your death?' As he said that, Isak felt the grip on his throat falter and weaken. 'Oh yes, that you can remember, that pain is still inside you. You're dead; a memory barely beyond Death's reach. Without name or form, what are you now?'

Isak smiled and raised his left hand, though his arm was sore, numb from the fight. Despite his feebleness, Isak took hold of Aryn Bwr's wrist and prised the fingers from his throat. Lifting his right arm, the hand twisted and curled over the broken wrist, Isak spread his fingers as best he could in front of his enemy's face and remembered what he'd done to Morghien. Under his touch, the weaves of magic parted like morning mist.

The last king shrieked and writhed in Isak's grip, but the white-eye felt his strength rush back into his body. Now the elf spirit was helpless to resist. Isak forced down the snarl that built in his throat as he embraced the magic all around and gathered a storm of power in his hand, determined not to submit to the rage in his belly as he had outside Lomin.

Reaching out with his mind, Isak cast a net of magic over the dead king's soul and savagely bound it, ripping it from the body it had tried to inhabit. Aryn Bwr howled with terror.

The elf's soul, held tightly in Isak's grip, was a feeble thing now. The shadows darkened as Death's reach crept closer. Aryn Bwr renewed his screams and struggled futilely until Isak pulled the soul away from the darkness and into himself, where part of it had hidden to avoid Death's constant watch.

Isak stood alone and breathed deeply; the air was fresher now and the weariness had left his limbs. Even the pain was gone now, for the damage was not to flesh and bone but the product of his mind. The sky was lightening, and faintly the scents of heather and wet grass came to him, smelling wonderful to him after the dead land.

In his mind Isak held the spirit of Aryn Bwr, but gently now; the time for force was over. There was no way for the elf to wield power over him any more.

What have you done? Isak felt the elf's voice in his mind, soft and pained, but tinged with fear.

I've survived; just like you've taught me to every day of my life.

What will you do with me? Aryn Bwr knew he was closer than at any other time to the final retribution of Ghenna's deepest pit.

I'm not going to kill you, if that's what you mean. I think I can find a better use for you. If the Land looks to me to be the Saviour, then I think I'll need your brain.

You were never meant to be Saviour-

I know, Isak interrupted with a smile. 'In silver light born, in silver light clothed.' That was never intended to be me; that was your rebirth tonight. Except now it's not going to happen. All things have their time; remember that, my chained dragon. Your time has passed.

You've broken history. Destiny had you die this night. Do you realise what that means?

Isak stretched and felt a cool breath of air drift past his face. He could feel himself returning to the temple inside the trees, to the life that was at long last his own.

It means we make our own future now. It means no prophecy fits what is going to happen. All we have is ourselves.

He smiled. The Land awaited him.