Dangit, I said I would get this chapter out today and I freaking got it out today well done, me.
Now I need to go to sleep, see you all tomorrow.
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Galleous would admit, to himself if no one else, that he hadn't expected Ingressus's mission with the resonances to last this long. It wasn't that he doubted Ingressus's dedication to saving his clan; you only had to know him for a day to know of his loyalty to his people. But the Ardoni had been looking for an answer about the resonances for as long as they had been broken without success, and with far greater resources than were available in Ataraxia. The town had a respectable library, courtesy of some wealthy benefactor several decades before, but there were places and people around the continent that were dedicated solely to solving the mystery of the resonances. Ataraxia simply wasn't equipped for such study the way those other places were. Ingressus's commitment was admirable, but surely it could only last him so long.
Galleous had thought that the lack of resources would force Ingressus to admit defeat. Galleous should've known better.
Three years had passed since Ingressus began his search, and while it was true his research had slowed, Ingressus showed no sign of letting that stop him. He made time every day to look over the research he had collected, re-reading the notes he'd made and shuffling his papers around to try and see things from a new angle. He had studied the shrine on the uppermost island, and had studied Galleous's Songs so intently that it had made the blacksmith consider training him as the next Songmaster. Whenever Galleous left Ataraxia and returned with a new book or research paper, Ingressus would disappear into his room to scour it for any new information.
Today had been a heavy research day. Galleous had returned to Ataraxia two days before with a copy of a research paper from Etheria and a book from a Kaltaris Songmaster. Given that Ingressus had been fixated on it until he fell asleep at his desk, there had clearly been something interesting enough to hold his attention.
Galleous pulled a sheet from Ingressus's bed and draped it over him. Ingressus didn't stir, too deep in the land of dreams to notice.
Ten years ago (Songs, had it really been that long?) Galleous knew that was not how it would have gone. Ingressus had slept with his back to the wall and, Galleous was pretty sure, a knife under his pillow. When Galleous had to wake him from a nightmare Ingressus would flinch away, pressing himself back against the wall in terror at the blue markings until the dream left him. Sometimes he wouldn't cry out from the nightmare, but Galleous would know by Ingressus's guarded look and his tense muscles the next day that his brother's specter had haunted the boy's dreams. There was no way the scarred, frightened boy from a decade before would have slept so soundly. Ingressus's head was resting on his folded arms, the book lying open in the desk in front of him and a sheet of paper half-covered in notes beside it. One red-rimmed ear was flopped over his arm, the tip casting a faint glow on an older stack of papers. Ingressus's search had slowed as of late, but no one could ever accuse him of not trying.
Galleous gently rubbed Ingressus's shoulder. "Sweet dreams, kiddo. Songs know you've earned it."
A quiet snore was the only response. Galleous flicked off the lamp and returned to his kitchen, heating up some water for tea.
As the days turned to months and extended into years, Galleous had gotten worried about Ingressus. He was committed, to be sure, but Galleous had feared it would come to be too much so. His utter dedication to a task many would call ambitious at best and impossible at worst, late nights spent poring over maps, trying to tease meaning out of unconfirmed rumors... it had felt scarily familiar. He remembered his brother becoming consumed by revenge, obsessing over the goal he had set for himself until its fire consumed his life.
(Could his obsession have been the result of the Prime Songs? Galleous couldn't imagine when he would have the chance to figure that out.)
And yet, Ingressus's fixation was different from Thalleous's. As determined as he was to find answers, he wouldn't snap when he was interrupted, nor had he drawn away from Kittrian, the twins, or his other friends the way Thalleous had with their family. Galleous couldn't say it was consuming his life, either: he would still go to the kids' campfires, and he and the older kids had joined forces for a monster-hunting venture, going out at night and looking for skeletons or spiders or whatever else could get them the resources people ordered from them. Galleous would have to call him out for meals on occasions when time got away from him, but Ingressus had never forgotten to eat altogether. So Galleous had tentatively deemed that Ingressus's quest hadn't crossed the line into unhealthy obsession.
Galleous sat in his garden, mug of tea held in his hands as he gazed out at the dimly lit island. A bat flitted through the sky above, banking and weaving as it chased after its insect prey. The trees rustled in the night breeze and Galleous wondered whether there was something to the Felina belief of the trees speaking to one another.
There were times when Galleous could still hardly believe the plot twist his life had taken. He had never felt much inclination to settle down and have a family of his own, always viewing the subject with a disinterested "if it's meant to happen, it'll happen" perspective. But he would never have guessed that such "happening" would come in the form of a Voltaris child washing up on the shore with nowhere to go and no one else to take care of him. Blaze fire, how had that led to this? He was convinced that Thalleous had annoyed some god somewhere, and that putting Ingressus in Galleous's path was the deity's way of laughing at his brother.
He had rescued Ingressus– and later taken him in– out of a feeling of responsibility. Responsibility for his plight, responsibility for the child who'd lost everything. Surely the least he could do was make sure Ingressus had a roof over his head and decent meals. And yet, despite the less-than-ideal circumstances, despite wondering many times whether he was the right person to care for a victim of his brother's raids, despite the layer of secrecy he'd had to take on with the rest of his family, it had stopped being about responsibility– or even pity– long ago.
Galleous sipped at his tea, reflecting on the boy who had become a part of his life. Not that Ingressus was much of a boy anymore– he was as tall as Galleous by now, and with thirty-four years behind him, it was only a few more until he was an adult. He had gone from a scarred child fearing he would either be killed or kicked out at any moment, to an almost-adult with a few more physical scars who had staked his place in the community and wasn't afraid to defend it to naysayers. He had taught Galleous much over the past decade: about the Songs, yes, but also about courage, about trust, about forgiveness versus vengefulness. He had never understood the saying about bravery being acting despite your fear until he had seen Ingressus, tense as a bowstring but walking step by step across the islands, red eyes guarded but determined as the Ataraxians stared and whispered about him.
Galleous now believed that if anyone could fix the resonances– if anyone had the kind of persistence that could bend fate to their will– it would be young Ingressus Voltaris. He had the drive and ambition to see it through, and the knowledge to make it happen. Ingressus claimed not to be an expert in the nature of the Songs, but his clan had the advantage of studying the resonances while they were still functioning. He had already dismissed one major theory that Galleous knew many in Ardonia had been pursuing for over a century. Galleous knew the odds may not be good, but he also knew Ingressus. "Surrender" was not in the boy's vocabulary.
Galleous drank the last of his tea, then yawned. Sleep, yes. Ingressus had the right idea.
Ingressus felt an odd sense of deja vu as he studied the map on his wall. He was pretty sure he had done exactly this in a recent dream, though he couldn't remember if any ray of inspiration had struck his dream-self. The map depicted the entire continent, with tune lines and resonances drawn across the paper. He had marked a number of the resonances with colored scraps of paper, coded to when the resonance had first been noticed to have stopped growing Songs. So far, he hadn't found any pattern, meaning that whatever happened had either killed all the resonances at once, or they had just blinked off randomly across the continent until they all were dead.
Ingressus wondered if there were any unharvested resonances left in the continent, and whether they had the same dead feeling as the one under Ataraxia. He was somewhat skeptical about the theory that the resonances had died from being over-harvested during the war leading up to his clan's exile. There had been wars before, and he had found no evidence that the resonances had suffered from those.
He shifted through the stacks of paper on his desk, pulling out an account from the early days of the dead resonances. The Silencing, as the death of the resonances had come to be known, wasn't entirely unprecedented. Individual resonances could and had died before the Silencing, if the source of one of their tune lines was destroyed or damaged. An earthquake diverting the course of a river, an avalanche filling in a canyon, a volcano going extinct. The accounts from after the Silencing matched what he had learned happened after such an event: recently-harvested resonances along the lines simply going dark, and half-formed Songs shrinking away and fading back into the earth like a dolphin that hadn't quite breached the surface of the ocean.
Ingressus had wondered at first whether someone might have intentionally sabotaged the tune lines. He spent long weeks in repeated trial-and-error tasks of removing various sets of tune lines from the map to see what could potentially be targeted to take out all the resonances. The tune lines spread across Ardonia like a spider's web or like cracked glass, with countless intersections between them and in the end, he had to conclude that even attempting to sabotage all of the resonances in such a way would be a Nether-blasted massive undertaking, and that actually accomplishing it would be impossible. If even a single resonance remained active, Ingressus felt certain someone would've found it by now.
Ingressus flipped through the papers he held, feeling the irony rise in him again. His clan had been resented for their study of the Songs, accused of seeking military advantage over the other clans. And now, after their exile, the other four were forced to seek the same information the Voltaris had, with only the dead resonances to study.
You could've just asked us, he thought. We might've even had the answer, back then. Or at least enough of an understanding of the resonances to figure it out.
Ingressus laid the paper aside. He'd read it so many times that he could probably recite it word-for-word by now. Many Ardoni were assigned to keep watch over various resonances that were in the process of forming Songs when the Silencing struck. Their accounts have been compiled to produce this data...
Ingressus rubbed his forehead. There were so many ideas, but just as many missing pieces. It could be that some other species or kingdom used magic to block the power of the resonances, looking for some advantage over the Ardoni. But if so then who was it, and how could Ingressus prove it? It could be that the source producing the energy carried by the tune lines had been somehow damaged, causing the entire web of magic to run dry. But if that were the case, then what was the source? There was a theory about a kind of symbiosis between the land and the Ardoni, with the Songs forming from the land bleeding off excess magic. If that were true then it was possible that other schools of magic had begun siphoning off enough that the Songs were no longer necessary. But had there been a large and abrupt enough rise in the use of magic six hundred years ago that would drain the tune lines dry? Not as far as Ingressus had been able to find.
He simply had to keep searching. He had only been at it for a few years; he still had a couple centuries left in him to find something.
(He really hoped it wouldn't take that long.)
Ingressus decided he would try to do more research on the history around the time of the Silencing. A natural disaster, some motive for another species to attack the resonances, some different magic system that might've interfered with them.
Would he have to learn more magic in order to fix the resonances? Ingressus could live with that. And learning the theory behind the magic systems probably wouldn't be nearly as hard or slow as learning to perform the magic itself.
But for the time being... Ingressus glanced at the clock on the wall. Oh yeah, he needed to go.
Galleous was sweeping up some windblown leaves when Ingressus left. "Heading off to train the kids?"
"Yep," Ingressus said.
Galleous leaned on the broom handle. "Have you ever considered doing that as your job? Assuming you don't want to be a forge assistant or zombie hunter the rest of your life."
Ingressus paused, considering. He hadn't thought of that. He was training the twins and a few of their friends because he trusted them to not use what he taught them against his clan. If he hired himself out as a combat instructor, he may have to take on those who would be inclined to use what he taught against the Voltaris.
Galleous held up his hand. "Just a thought. I didn't mean to keep you from your lesson."
Ingressus trotted for the exit. "See you later!"
When Ingressus had come to Ataraxia, Tiris had forbidden him from being trained with weapons. Obviously, he had failed to consider how early the Voltaris began to train their children. Ingressus had chosen not to correct his assumption. He had trained on his own for a long time, running through his routines from the mountains and testing his skills against the undead. In recent years he had gained actual sparring partners: Saylor, Rigeleus, Lurae. Tiris hadn't been happy when word reached his ears, but Lurae had pointed out a loophole: "I'm not teaching him; heck, he's better than me. We're both just mutually practicing."
Luciren and Volerik had both begged Ingressus to teach them. When they were finally old enough (or had finally worn Kittrian down enough), Ingressus had obliged. Madaris had tagged along once, and a few weeks later, Ingressus had gone from two students to five.
Ingressus passed by the main sparring arena without pausing. He had originally held his lessons there until Ailera's mother, bitter and resentful of him ever since her brother's death, had unleashed a tirade about endangering children. Ailera had apologized profusely later for her mother's behavior, but Ingressus had decided dealing with such a thing wasn't worth it. The new training grounds were lower down, on an island off to the side of the town.
Ingressus wondered if Keperin would be there again. He had caught Selarin's younger brother watching from a tree the week before– and then nearly falling out of it when he realized Ingressus had noticed him. Apparently he had been avoiding Selarin so he wouldn't be dragged into another one of his brother's schemes.
But the glow he saw past the bushes was darker than Keperin's light violet. The voices he heard were angry, not the lighthearted chatter the kids usually had. Ingressus sped up, running across the bridge to see Selarin himself there, flanked by Verdeus and Kesantus as he harassed the younger children. Keperin was present, trying to shrink back into the bushes between the two groups. When he saw Ingressus he shrank even further back, eyes darting around like a cornered rabbit.
"How cute," Selarin was saying mockingly to Luciren. "The little clanless thinks she can be a warrior." He laughed, turning Luciren's wooden sword as he studied it. "Who would you even be fighting for anyway? Your mom's little patch of runty melons? Your flake of a dad?"
"I said give it back!" Luciren snapped, stomping her foot.
"And why don't you make me, little warrior?"
Luciren lunged at him but Selarin just caught her by the arm, holding her back with one hand as she strained to reach him.
"Hey, leave her alone!" Volerik yelled.
"Yeah!" Marina added. "Go away and let us practice! No one wants you here!"
"How brave!" Selarin mocked as his cronies laughed. "But a warrior has to earn what they get. This is our training ground now."
He flicked his sword at the kids and his lackeys started forward. Luciren gave a feral-sounding snarl and yanked at Selarin's arm, to no effect.
"Don't try to overpower him," Ingressus told her. He stepped forward, and Verdeus and Kesantus stopped. "He has too much weight advantage for that. Target his weak points, see if you can use his weight against him."
"Oh-ho, well look who it is!" Selarin laughed. "The Voltaris reject is back, everyone!" He smirked. "Those are some bold words for you, Red. Still trying to earn your way back to your cla-an!?"
Luciren grabbed Selarin's arm and dropped. Selarin stumbled at the sudden weight and Luciren kicked him in the shins. She pulled free as Selarin grunted in pain, dancing back out of his reach.
"Ha!" she yelled in triumph as Volerik applauded. "Now give me my sword back!"
"Good job," Ingressus praised.
Selarin recovered with a snort, pointing the sword at Ingressus. "So is this why you're here? To train a little army of sympathizers?" He cast a contemptuous look over the kids. "Oh, your clan must be truly desperate if they're after these little scraps."
"Hey, we'd make a great army!" Madaris snapped. "You're just too dumb to see that."
"I'd be proud to have them," Ingressus said calmly.
Selarin scoffed. "Oh, all of Ardonia will tremble before you."
Luciren darted in to give another kick at his shins. Selarin cursed loudly and threw her to the side, sending her crashing to the dirt with a grunt of pain.
"Leave her alone!" Ingressus ordered, advancing on Selarin.
"Or what?" Selarin demanded. "I'm not afraid of these midgets, and I'm definitely not afraid of Galleous's little pity project."
He pointed Luciren's sword at Ingressus, red light flickering around him. A crackling sphere of energy erupted from the blade and shot through the air, seething and burning with unstable power. Ingressus dove aside and it soared past him, slamming into a tree with the force of a dragon's fireblast.
Ingressus heard the gasps, could feel Selarin's smirk as splinters of wood fell to the ground, as the haze of red shimmered around the crater in the tree trunk. The rippling static of the Song's flight seemed to echo in the air even after the charge itself was gone, as if the air itself was shaking in the aftermath.
Aggrosphere, Ingressus's mind recalled. A powerful energy charge. Not useful in close quarters; its blast is as dangerous for the user as the victim. Its flight is fairly slow, so it can be dodged– and you'd better, because a direct hit can easily be lethal.
Selarin was grinning in triumph as he propped the sword in his shoulder. "I think I've made my point. Now get lost, everyone, and let me and my friends practice. Unless, of course, you want to act as the other team."
"It's no coincidence that Aggressium is the color of blood," Ritanil had said. Ingressus remembered her holding Kaitos's Aggroshard Song in her hands as she spoke, the glow painting her hands in an eerie flickering light. "It is offensive magic, meant to harm, to wound, to kill. There will come a time when you will have to defend yourself and your loved ones, and on that day I hope you will use whatever you have to its fullest extent. But Aggressium is never to be taken lightly, because the Song will neither know nor care what blood it sheds."
He could see the children already beginning to leave, shuffling around the edge of the clearing to keep out of Selarin's path. Marina was still staring at the jagged gouge the Song had left in the tree, her eyes wide. Volerik was keeping one eye on Selarin as he stuck close to his sister's side. Even Luciren had been cowed by the threat of the Song, no longer caring that she was leaving her sword behind.
Selarin was still grinning, his gaze proud and satisfied as he turned away from them as if they were nothing more than a pile of sand. He was glad that he could intimidate them so much, he enjoyed the power his Song gave him to frighten and to get his way. And he would not stop. He'd had his taste of blood, metaphorical if not literal, and he had realized once again that he could get away with bullying whoever he wanted. He would keep pushing, keep threatening and abusing and hurting for as long as he was allowed.
Ingressus drew his sword.
It was Verdeus who noticed first, his startled gaze alerting Selarin. Percy stopped cold, his eyes glued to Ingressus as Selarin turned around with an incredulous laugh.
"Oh, come on, Red, you're not this stupid."
"Your actions have gone on long enough," Ingressus said. "I will not stand by any longer."
Verdeus and Kesantus laughed as Selarin sneered. "Put the sword down, Red, and stop embarrassing yourself. You're not my Master, you're not on the council, and you're not my mom. How do you plan to stop me?"
Ingressus pointed the sword at Selarin, aiming the tip right at his chest. "A duel, Selarin. You, against me. If you win, you can have the island. If I win, you leave the kids alone from now on."
Kesantus burst out laughing. "Oh, go ahead, Selarin, put the Voltaris in his place! This'll be good."
"Why haven't we done this before now?" Verdeus wondered, also smiling.
Ingressus thought Selarin had almost faltered. He had noticed that Selarin wouldn't go as far in threatening him as the other kids he picked on. A shove, a thrown rock, yes– but instigating an actual fight, or cornering him and demanding something on pain of physical injury– in all this time, Selarin had never yet dared to give Ingressus an excuse to fight.
But Selarin's pride had a bigger grasp on him than his fear of Ingressus. "You're an idiot, Red. You don't even have a Song."
He threw the wooden sword aside and drew his own weapon, an iron sword with a jagged edge. "This will be over quick."
He hurled another Aggrosphere, this one directly at Ingressus. Ingressus dodged again and ran in to engage, his sword clashing against Selarin's with a reverberating clang. Selarin drew back and stabbed and Ingressus spun out of the way, blade lashing at his opponent's legs.
Ingressus wasn't fighting to kill. Selarin wasn't worth that much, and he wasn't enough of a threat that it was necessary. But he wasn't pulling any blows, had no care to avoid injuring his opponent. Iron blades flashed in the sunlight, ringing off one another over and over as Ingressus pressed him with a flurry of blows. Selarin's teeth were bared in fury as he countered the blows, sword dancing from side to side to deflect the strikes. He slashed at Ingressus's head and the Voltaris deflected it above him, twisting under the blow and slamming the sword hilt into Selarin's ribs.
This wasn't a sparring match, meant for training and learning. It wasn't slow and controlled, wasn't as much partnership as competition. It was fast, relentless, and as dirty as each wanted to make it.
Selarin kicked Ingressus's leg from under him. Ingressus fell, rolled, and was up again, slashing upwards at Selarin's hilt to twist it from his hands. Selarin caught the strike on his blade and for a moment the pair were locked together, mirrored across the two weapons. Ingressus pressed harder against Selarin's blade, angling the crossed weapons closer to the Mendoris's face.
"Go, Ingressus!" Volerik cheered.
Selarin abruptly ducked, breaking the lock. Ingressus turned his fall into a twist, flipping in the air to land in a crouch as Selarin's blade slashed down at his head. Ingressus caught the sword on his and grabbed Selarin's wrist, pivoting around him as he slung the Mendoris away. Selarin's blade stabbed down into the dirt and Selarin lost his hold, sprawling in the dirt.
Ingressus grabbed the sword and threw it aside as he advanced on Selarin. But before he could demand his opponent's surrender there was a flash of blue in the corner of his eye. Verdeus grabbed onto his sword arm and pinned it in place, while Kesantus locked his other arm in his grip.
Selarin rose, violet gaze fixed on Ingressus as he thrashed against them. "Not bad, Red. You've got a lot of nerve."
And with that, he punched Ingressus in the gut. Ingressus doubled over and Selarin laughed, bringing his fist back to punch again.
Ingressus twisted his arm back, clawed fingers searching for anything he could grab. He hit something soft and dug his fingers into the flesh, hearing Kesantus choke. Ingressus pulled his arm free and slammed a foot into Selarin's chest, but then cried out as Verdeus twisted his arm and flung him to the ground. He shoved at the ground but was pinned before he could rise. Selarin planted a knee in Ingressus's spine, pressing his head against the ground with one hand.
Ingressus struggled against them. He was Voltaris, the toughest clan on the continent! His people had fought against raiders and the elements and fate itself for centuries, he would not be brought low here!
But the weight of all three was too much for him. He rolled his eye back, baring his teeth in a last display of defiance as Selarin leaned in, leaning his weight on Ingressus's skull.
"You don't belong here, Red," Selarin hissed. "Do yourself a favor and never come back. If you can ever peel yourself off the ground."
He pulled back his fist, aiming for Ingressus's face, and then there was a high-pitched war cry. A gray-and-white blur launched itself onto Selarin's face, kicking and punching and yanking at his ears. Selarin fell back with a muffled cry as the other four children ran in as well, all of them shouting wordlessly but with their intent fully clear.
Ingressus planted his fists in the ground and forced himself up, scraping his knee bloody against a stone. He slammed his elbow against Verdeus's head as he rose and launched himself at Kesantus.
The brawl was pure chaos. Keperin was nowhere to be seen anymore but no less than three of the children had piled onto Selarin, pummeling him with all the rage he'd invoked over the years of taunts and beatdowns. Ingressus pulled Kesantus into a headlock and yanked him into the path of Verdeus's punch, then threw him aside to give the Sendaris his due as Luciren stamped down on Kesantus's hand. Years of anger and frustration and helplessness burned hotter than lava and brighter than a beacon as the six did to the bullies exactly what they'd wanted to for so, so long.
Ingressus jumped and gave a whirling kick that sent Kesantus flying back into a rosebush, then spun to look for his next opponent. Selarin was yelling nasally, bloody murder, the kids still had him handled—
And then the entire world lit up red. Every nerve in Ingressus's body blazed with fire for a terrible instant before he was slammed into oblivion.
Volerik's ears were still ringing as the roar of the thunder cut out, the silence echoing as loud as the blast itself. He felt Selarin throw him off and scramble away, yelling something as he fled the island.
Wait– he was running! They'd won! They won!
Volerik scrambled up, looking around as Selarin's goons ran after him, fleeing as well. But his yell of victory turned into a scream of horror as his gaze fell on Ingressus's burned and unmoving form, lying sprawled in the dirt.
"No! No no! No no no no!!"
He ran to Ingressus's side and fell to his knees in a panic. He was burned, he was burned and his markings were so faint so dark was he dying no no no he couldn't be dying he couldn't be!
"Wake up!" he screamed, tears streaming down his face. "Ingressus, wake up, please!"
Volerik shook him desperately, hoping, begging, praying for Ingressus to wake, to talk, to do something, anything to prove he would be okay. But wait, no, don't touch what if you make it worse? And his markings should be red, red and orange and he should be getting up, should be moving and sitting up and even if he was in pain he should still have that look in his eyes of victory because they'd won and it was all because of him and he should be there and alive and awake to see it because he was Ingressus Voltaris and he was too strong and tough to die like this!
"Somebody!" Volerik yelled, the words tearing at his throat as he screamed as loud as he could and the tears blurred his vision. "Somebody get help! Somebody save him!"
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(5041 words)
Total word count: 57,466
Have I ever written a swordfight before? Ever? I really don't know if I have, especially not one drawn out this long. I used to write Star Wars stuff; that's kinda surprising.