Chapter 124
Chapter 124
Vivianne died a little with each step she took closer to Marcus. First she saw Líran, her body twisted and not a streak of purple on her curly hair. Then she saw Marcus lying like a corpse beside a pile of black rags. Victory and relief of seeing the dragon retreat to the Mouth both died when she saw those rags. Vivianne felt the same kind of pain she had felt when she saw Lune in ruins, but much deeper. She wanted to escape her body. Everything in her was pain.
She barely noticed the sound of a horse approaching, nor did she see Pierre dismounting beside her. It was as though he walked in from a fog. She saw him kneel down and put a hand no Marcus’ neck. Then he brought his ear down, close to the black rags. Finally, he took Líran’s pulse.
‘They all live,’ he said.
Vivianne began to cry.
*
Fregósbor stood where Mortadella had been a few moments earlier. He looked to the sunset, yellow eyes directly on the sun. Then he noticed a body beside him.
‘I know you,’ said the mage. ‘You are that Accident, Leonard.’
The body didn’t reply. Fregósbor examined it.
‘You aren’t here, are you?’
Suddenly, a fur ball flew in through the window and landed on the Accident’s shoulder. The cat without a tail hissed and growled to Fregósbor, but Leonard finally moved and took the mage by the shoulders.
‘Pierre needs you,’ he said.
Only then did Fregósbor notice his master’s life fading in the North. And a voice that knew his name calling:
‘Fregósbor.’
‘Pierre,’ said the mage. ‘Where is the story?’
‘It’s here with me,’ said Pierre, ‘and it needs you now.’
Fregórbor took the Accident’s arm.
‘Take me to him.’
Leonard’s body emerged with Fregósbor in front of Pierre, who was holding Vivianne, still crying.
‘Can you save them?’ asked Pierre.
‘I can try,’ said Fregósbor.
Germon and Bojet had already raised a tent for Fregósbor and his three patients. The old mage examined the ancient mage, then put his hand on Líran’s forehead, and lastly took a good look at Marcus. He noticed Vivianne at the entrance and closed it.
‘Silence, solitude and no fear,’ he said from inside. ‘That is what these three need now. That, and a lot of magic.’
Vivianne saw, maybe for the last time, Líran, her brother, her Wraith. Pierre put his hand on her shoulder and she relaxed into his warmth, leaning her back against his chest. She didn’t turn, they didn’t look at each other, but his hand stayed on her shoulder and her shoulder stayed under his hand.
‘If anyone can save them, it’s Fregósbor,’ said Pierre.
Vivianne rested the back of her head on his shoulder.
‘I suppose I should do something useful,’ she said. ‘Standing here is useless.’
‘We need to talk to Clément,’ said Pierre.
‘I’ll take Coalim with me.’
‘And later on I’d like you to tell me everything that happened since you left Chambert,’ said Pierre. He held her shoulder a few more seconds, then let her go.
Something glittered where the Wraith, Líran and Vivianne’s brother had fallen. Pierre saw it even in the distance. He went down the hill, went into the remains of the battle, dug into the earth and found a little ink bottle.