The Unfettered Child

by Michael C Sahd

  Gently reaching out, Samara tried walking forward some more. The little girl closed her eyes and screamed. “No, stop, I won’t hurt you,” Samara cried. Continuing to scream, the girl pushed herself against the wooden wall.

  Samara tried to touch her shoulder, but backed away when a stream of urine ran down the girl’s leg, forming a puddle around her feet. Samara’s mounting guilt and despair escaped her in a terrible wail. She stumbled backward until she fell into the road.

  Looking back at the ruins of the settlement, she saw black smoke rising from the charred remains of a house. Farther into the town, a few survivors, overcome with grief, had returned to the streets to mourn a friend, a loved one, a tribe member, or . . . family. What had she done?

  You did the right thing, Illtud said. The people will recover and rejoice in their freedom from the Havallans.

  “No!” Samara shouted. Pushing Illtud from her mind, she ran.

  Chapter 12: Searching

  Pacing the rim of the crater, Zayra Amastacia covered her nose and mouth with a handkerchief. The smell of death polluted the air, accompanied by the incessant buzzing of flies. Hundreds of corpses were spread around the vast pit.

  She felt nauseous and had retched more than once. Swallowing back bile, she gazed over the marred landscape, seeing it as if through darkened glass. Using what she called “mage sight,” she looked for signs of something magic.

  The only auras in the crater were a few neutral white ones scattered around in the destruction, and she recognized those as birds, insects, or rodents. White was useless magic anyway; it signified basic life. The color Zayra wanted to see was blue, for magical beings.

  Illtud’s blue aura was not in the crater, which didn’t surprise her because he would have responded to her mental shouts by now if he had been there. She had cast mage sight in order to ferret out clues. There were none so far.

  She glanced over at another blackened elf corpse and vomited. Spitting to clear the bile from her mouth, she sobbed. So many dead elves. The entire expedition was dead, except the two she had left behind in the mountains. Elves could live for over a thousand years, but they may only have one or two children in that entire time. Every elven life was precious.

  Taking a seat on a rock that protruded from the ground, she took a few steady breaths and wiped her eyes. She let out a sigh, immediately followed by a deep yawn. The teleportation spell she had cast had worn her out. She remembered how expertly Havelle had teleported so many years ago, and, not for the first time, she reflected on what a fool Illtud had been.

  Despite her protests, he had insisted that if they killed Emperor Khalil of the Havallan Empire, then Lelran Alor, the elven kingdom, would never want for human slaves again. She had followed him deep into the Havallan Empire like a lovestruck maiden.

  She put her elbow on her knee and rested her chin in her hand, drumming her cheeks with her fingers. Neither of them could have known that an ancient lich guarded the kingdom—the legendary founder of Havalla, no less.

  She had loved Illtud when he had a body, and even after his imprisonment. It was only later, after his obsession with the djinn developed, that she had started to lose interest.

  She sighed again. The first word Illtud had telepathically said to her after their encounter with Havelle had been “Abizou.” She had thought she was going crazy, hearing his voice slip into her mind like that, speaking nonsense.

  However, Illtud had eagerly explained that he could still feel the essence of the prior inhabitant of the gem. Abizou was Malaikah, he had continued, and had been trapped in the gem by Havelle. After that, his fixation on Abizou had become his fulltime occupation. Many of his peers had wanted to send an army to Havalla on his behalf, but he had protested, insisting that finding Abizou would be far better.

  Zayra had spent the last eight years researching the Malaikah for him, specifically pursuing any mention of Abizou. The Havallans called them djinni and feared them, for they were powerful beings. Even the elves kept contact with these immortals to a minimum, because of their vindictive nature.

  It had been almost a year ago that she had discovered that Abizou had once been the queen of the Malaikah, before she had been captured by Havelle. The information came from a Malaikah that had grown weary of Zayra contacting him. He also had told her that Abizou could no longer live among the Malaikah and that she was still living in the mortal realm.

  Excitedly, Illtud had tasked Zayra with discovering Abizou’s location, and with the help of a powerful divining spell and several mages, she had succeeded. She silently cursed Illtud for sending them on this current failure of a mission.

  They had failed to find Abizou, lost Talron to some devilish barbarian mage, and lost Illtud as well. Zayra had thought it couldn’t get any worse, but then she had sent her contingent, her friends, to . . . to their deaths. Taking a deep breath, she bit back another sob. The loss of elven life was inexcusable, and she feared retribution when she returned home.

  Pulling a braided choker out of her pouch, she scowled at it and chewed her lower lip. The necklace, made from sphinx hair, had been designed to capture Malaikah. She shoved the useless item back into her bag.

  These humans had turned out to be much more trouble than she had predicted. At least she would return home with some excellent specimens. Humans were prolific and aged very fast. In less than fifty years, she could breed strong, hardy slaves from this stock.

  The brawny barbarian came to mind. That one, she was keeping; she would have to break him, and even sedate him for the rest of his short life, especially after he had killed four elves, but offspring from that human would produce prize slaves for trade, and possibly lessen any punishment from her overlords for Illtud’s failed mission.

  Shaking her head, she stood. She needed to stay in the present. Kicking a pebble down the side of the rim, she resumed her pacing. She should have gone after Illtud herself, she thought, but then she reflected on the enormity of the destruction below. What could she have done? If only she knew what had caused all this devastation.

  When her group first came upon these barbarians, she had been at camp, meditating through her spell book, hours away. They had quite a collection of slaves already, and she had stayed back to help keep them in line.

  About midafternoon, the group had returned with the barbarian women in tow. Talron, her apprentice, had not returned with them. The others had explained to her that Talron had told them to go on without him while he dealt with a couple of humans who had tried to run.

  They went on to tell her that there had been a mage battle. The woods had caught fire behind them. Some had turned back to help, but then ice had shot out of the ground like giant crystalline spikes, so they had hurried back to report to her instead.

  Zayra had waited a short while for Talron to return, trusting her apprentice to handle the situation. When he didn’t, she went to look for him.

  Before she arrived at the ice monolith, however, she had seen the barbarian fighters heading stealthily toward her camp. She had returned to warn her companions, then quickly traveled to the frozen shards to search for her apprentice.

  What she had found was the burnt body of Talron. Illtud was gone, and her apprentice was dead. Sighing, she cursed herself and Illtud.

  Partly sliding and partly walking, she left the rim of the crater. No mage had done this. She grimaced. So what had happened here? An ancient dragon could possibly do it, but why? A demon?

  If the barbarians had a mage that dabbled in demon summoning, they could have summoned a creature too powerful to manage. Fools. Suddenly, her eyes widened as something occurred to her, and she turned back to the crater. “Abizou?” she asked aloud. That could be it!

  She remembered that on the night of the blast, she had decided to leave Illtud to his fate and flee. She had instructed the elves she had sent to retrieve Illtud earlier that day to meet her on the coast. But what if Illtud had found Abizou? What if this was the work of the Malaikah?

 
; Her curiosity was piqued. Her book contained an incantation that could track the remnants of old magical auras, and that meant she could follow Illtud. However, it was a complicated spell and one she had not prepared. It would take a couple of hours to get it ready, but in her condition, she lacked the strength to cast a spell of that magnitude.

  Finding a spot far from the outside of the crater rim, upwind to avoid the smell, she sat cross-legged. Reaching into her bag, she pulled out a thick, heavy tome filled with arcane scribblings she had copied or researched herself. Breathing slowly, relaxing, and clearing her mind, she finally slipped into an elven trance. It was like sleep, but also like meditation.

  While she sat, the sky darkened, and the moon crept across the heavens. Still as a statue she sat until, just before the sun peeked over the eastern plains, she stirred.

  Opening her book, she flipped to the page she needed and began studying. She had to memorize every word required to shape the spell and practice every gesture. The slightest mistake, and the incantation would fail; worse, she could waste the energy needed to cast it, and then she would have to rest again.

  After she felt that she had memorized the enchantment sufficiently, she went ahead and memorized a few more spells to use throughout the day.

  When she was ready, she got up and walked back to the crater. As she neared it, she noticed a body outside the rim that she must have overlooked the day before. Ilfrin, and his neck had been broken. Studying the bruises, she could tell that magic hadn’t killed this elf; it had been pure strength. She sighed and climbed back up to the rim.

  Searching through her bag, she found what appeared to be a dehydrated mushroom cap but was in fact a dried eagle eye. Taking a deep breath, she lifted her arms over her head then, spread them wide, signing with her hands while gently holding the wrinkled component. She felt energy crawl through her fingers, then through her limbs, and finally settle under her closed lids. The bird’s eye collapsed into a pile of dark dust.

  When she opened her eyes again, she saw the world through mage sight, but unlike before, she also saw Illtud’s unmistakable blue trail. What really interested her was the deep red aura that seemed to parallel his.

  Following the trail to a lone tree, she stopped and pulled out a braided strand of horsehair. She made some arcane gestures while mumbling a spell, and the tree started twisting, snapping and cracking as it transformed into a horse made of branches, leaves, and twigs. She climbed up its side.

  As the horse ran south, the sound of branches and leaves rubbing together in a strong wind filled the land.

  *****

  The plant horse raced across the land at speeds no natural horse could ever match. Watching the plains blur past her, Zayra followed the blue and red trails. As she went, she spotted a third, blue trail that followed Illtud, which she felt sure was Abizou. Soon, her path led her out of the plains into forested hills, forcing her to slow her pace somewhat; still, the trees raced past her.

  After traveling for some time in this manner, she came upon a fast-flowing river, and the trail led across a solid bridge of ice. This late in the spring and this far south, the water shouldn’t have been frozen, and at once, she knew magic had created the bridge.

  She slowed to a gallop. Halfway across the bridge, the ice started cracking as each wooden step came down. Kicking her steed in the flank, pine needles falling to the frozen surface below, they leaped forward as one.

  When the mount landed farther along on the span, its back legs broke through, plummeting its flanks into the icy, cold water. Zayra gripped one of her mount’s branches just before she would have fallen into the river.

  Her adrenaline surging, she kicked harder, but the ice broke beneath the mount’s front legs, and they splashed into the fast-moving water. Closing her eyes, she clung onto the steed, fearing for her life as the rapids began pulling them quickly downriver, despite the controlled swim of her magical horse.

  When she felt the force of the current slow, she peeked through her lids. She noticed the remains of the ice bridge floating around her and saw where she had fallen through the ice in the distance. The horse pulled them out of the water, liquid sieving through its tangled branches, and she praised her elven gods that she had survived.

  She took a deep breath, then laughed maniacally. Wouldn’t it be fitting if I die, too, on Illtud’s ridiculous scheme? she thought. Still laughing, she went back to find the trail and continue her journey.

  Riding to the top of the peak that Samara had stood on only days before, Zayra, using her hand to shield the sun from her eyes, surveyed the settlement below, with its Havallan fortress lying in crumbles.

  She now had no doubt that Illtud had control over Abizou. Only he would be so petty as to destroy the Havallans without provocation. She scoffed angrily, then rode carefully down the steep slope.

  As she neared the settlement, she began to wonder if Illtud really did have control or if, perhaps, they had some agreement. If the latter, then it may be dangerous to bring the Malaikah home, and if the former . . . how much control could he really have over a being that could destroy hundreds of people so easily? Biting her lower lip, she began to wonder if her mission should be to stop Illtud.

  She halted near the small forest of pines, slightly away from the settlement, and dismounted. She watched as her mount’s branches and limbs untangled and rooted into the forest floor, steed returning to tree. Wrapping a shawl over her head, she entered the town through the same now-blackened gate Samara had used.

  In front of her, the fortress lay in crumbles inside a broad crack. Beyond the pile of stones, humans busily cleaned up and repaired buildings around four dips in the ground made by powerful fire blasts. She recognized the spell’s aftermath; she could cast it herself, but not to such an extent.

  The stone wreckage before her lay as yet untouched, and she could see the remains of Havallan soldiers mixed in with the rocks. The aura trails went high above the piles of stones, spiraled around, then went out the other side where the doors had been.

  Walking around the crack, she stepped into the settlement. She kept her head low to avoid unwanted attention and followed the trail. The sight of an elf moving freely among them would probably send them screaming, and she may take the brunt of the blame. In some ways, she was to blame, for not dismissing Illtud’s crazy obsession long ago.

  When she walked into the blast area, she noted that fire had eaten away at most of the surrounding houses. The humans were everywhere, some working on the burnt houses, others cleaning up debris. She passed an older couple, the woman crying about her lost son, and the man trying to comfort her.

  She heard a group of men surveying the remains of their stone fortress, discussing the best way to rebuild. They were organized and collected, nothing like Zayra had expected. She couldn’t help but feel a little humbled by the focus and determination of these animals. Her prior experience with humans had been that they were violent, smelly beasts until tamed by elves.

  She thought of her previous foray into human lands with Illtud. They had avoided human towns and cities until they neared Sunat Kabisa. Even then, she had stayed inside the litter until they stepped out into the emperor’s throne room.

  She had never seen humans work together the way she saw them now, and for a moment, she questioned her way of life, her whole society. There was a faction within elven society of human rights activists, but she had always thought of them as spoiled, young aristocrats starving for attention.

  When Illtud had been banished by Havelle, the group had blossomed into a growing nuisance. Now she wondered if there might be some merit behind their movement.

  As she wove her way through the working throng of humans, something caught her attention, and she stopped to listen. A bruised, Havallan man dressed in dirty white robes, with four red stripes on his sleeves and a red moon on his chest, spoke to a man wearing armor with similar regalia.

  The armored man’s suit was painted white, as was typical of Havallan m
ilitants, but additional moon markings probably meant he was an official of some type. He held his white helmet to his left side and rested his other hand on the hilt of his sword. “I’m sorry, Al Bari, but you must be mistaken.”

  “No!” said Al Bari, the sleeve of his white robe swaying as he shook his hand back and forth. “I assure you, General, she was just a child. A child of the nomads. A demon or an efreet would not have faked the fear and desperation I saw on that child’s face. Nor could either of those beings resist our banishment.”

  “It’s just so hard to believe,” the general said.

  Al Bari shook his head and said, “Had I not seen it with my own eyes, I would completely agree with you. I even trapped the child with a powerful containment spell, and my spell simply dissolved.”

  The general turned around, surveying the exit of the town, past Zayra, displaying the red sun on the chest of his armor. He had a neatly trimmed beard and hard eyes. “I will visit the woman that said she saw the child flee after I finish visiting the deceased’s relatives.”

  Zayra followed his gaze and saw that he was studying a modest hut at the edge of the destruction. When she heard the two slip back into conversation, she made her way toward the shanty.

  Not bothering to knock, she opened the door and walked in. A woman sat at a table and looked up when she came in. Zayra could see from her red-rimmed eyes that she had been crying. Pulling her hood back, she revealed her elven features, causing the human to scream and duck under the table.

  Zayra cast a simple spell that tossed the table aside. The woman crawled into a corner, cowering. “Please . . . please,” she begged.

  “Stop that!” Zayra said. “I just have some questions.”

  “Anything, but plea—” she held her arms up defensively.

  Zayra interrupted. “You saw a child destroy the stone building?” She pointed in the direction of the crack.