Totentanz

Book 1 Chapter V: Umsonst

Warning: contains violence, character death, and references to torture.

UMSONST
German, "free (of cost); for nothing; in vain"

Die Schatten werden länger (The shadows become longer)
Es ist fünf vor zwölf (It's five to twelve
Die Zeit ist beinah um (The time is almost up)
-- Elisabeth das Musical, Die Schatten werden länger (The Shadows Become Longer)

Events in Miavain mattered nothing to the people of Avallot. Years ago when the Bone-Worshippers first got their claws into the country, the Mages of Avallot had put up a ward blocking Miavain off completely. No one from there could ever get into Avallot. Nor could the common people of Avallot get into Miavain. The only people who could open the wards temporarily were the magicians, and they did it only when banishing someone.

For obvious reasons, Miavain had become their preferred place to get rid of someone without technically killing them. The exiled person would die anyway, but the magicians could claim they weren't truly responsible. "Out of sight, out of mind" was their attitude.

No news filtered up from Miavain. No one in Avallot had the slightest inkling there was anything unusual happening beyond the wards. Virtually no one spared so much as a thought for Karandren as the years passed. If Diarnlan ever remembered him or wondered about his fate, she never said anything.

Years turned to decades. Magicians in general lived much longer than the Spiritless. Mages lived even longer than ordinary magicians. Eighty years passed and Diarnlan looked barely a year older than when she killed the first monster. Her ability to kill monsters quickly certainly hadn't faded with time. The minute reports circulated about a third monster, the first one sighted in over sixty years, she took her sword and left her realm to deal with it.

Where she got Saugnrafn was one of the many mysteries Diarnlan allowed to spring up around her. There was nothing magicians liked so much as gossiping about other magicians. Especially Great Mages, and even more especially Great Mages who refused to hobnob with the common riffraff. She'd heard no end of wild rumours about her ancestry (which she was pained to admit was not nearly as exalted as the gossips claimed), how she killed monsters so easily (anyone could kill them easily if they struck at their weak parts), and what she did when she refused invitations to social events (stayed in the palace she'd built for herself and read her favourite books, mostly).

The ice-sword Saugnrafn was so distinctive it prompted many rumours. An astonishing number of people believed she'd ventured into the Óhreinnjǫrð and found it there. That wasn't true in the slightest. She'd made it herself, like all mages made their soul-weapons themselves. But the rumours made people treat her with wariness and respect, so she couldn't be bothered correcting them.

Today started like any other day. Diarnlan woke up, had breakfast, ignored the pile of letters from her sister, and spent an hour practicing her swordsmanship. Some faint sense of unease prompted her to practice even longer than she usually did. Then she practiced casting complicated spells, like teleporting a piece of furniture from one room to another and rearranging whole wings of the palace. That kept her magic strong and her control over it sure. After that she sat down with a cup of tea and the latest instalment of a serial novel.

All the mages could communicate with each other telepathically in emergencies. The first she knew anything was wrong was when the equivalent of a fire alarm went off in her head.

Monster sighted on the shore! one of her fellow mages shouted. Diarnlan winced. It was like someone screaming in her ear at the top of their lungs. Biggest one we've seen yet!