by Noel Cash
“Look, there’s Delanna. We can get started.” Kix’s gray-green eyes lit up at the prospect of me delving further into a hidden side of my heritage.
My research during the murder investigation had verified Delanna’s full gypsy blood. She highlighted it by wearing bright colors and flowing scarves. She clapped her hands and smiled at the assembled group.
“Gather round, my lovelies. Tonight, our goal is two-fold. First, we ride on the cosmic surf of our friend Rory’s success in tapping into his greatest power. Feed and expand on his energy as we will benefit from it.”
She glanced at me, and my heart sank at the deceit I’d started. I clenched my fists and forced myself to not turn away.
“Second, our group expands again. In addition to Jory Dew, who joined two weeks ago—” she gestured to a middle aged elf whose spindly frame reminded me of a spider, “a new member begins her remarkable journey of self-awareness. Join me in giving a blessed welcome to Villette Torvill.”
Her hand rose in a flourish toward an unremarkable looking witch of about fifty, who ducked her head in embarrassment and looked at her scuffed shoes. My mother would have described her as a dishwater blonde and strode to her side to make her feel included.
“No pressure, Delanna, no pressure,” Kix whispered.
“Hush,” I said without looking at her.
Our hostess continued. “Tonight, we join as myth and family, brothers and sisters, to delve into our deepest self to discover joyous enlightenment. Pray to the deity that comforts you and join with it to guide you on this incredible journey. Be clear and specific in your intent. Ask your guide for what you wish to accomplish. Follow the rhythm of the drums into an altered state of consciousness. When the drumming stops, return to this plane of existence, and record your impressions in writing to share.”
She gestured to the refreshment table where a stack of clipboards and stick pens mingled with fresh tarts, croissants, and jams. The only goblin in our group hovered near. From past experience, I knew she’d be first in line and whisk some of the food into her purse.
Delanna pulled her cell phone from a pocket and tapped it. A rapid drumbeat filled the air, drowning further instructions and any possible thought.
Kix squeezed my hand then settled into a meditation pose. I shook my head at the stupidity of the exercise and closed my eyes. As the drumming surrounded me, I prayed to the Gods the strange symbols would not reappear behind my lids.
In my eighty-eight years, midlife for an elf, I’d learned how to meditate. Not much time passed before I slowed my breathing and cut out all distractions but the music.
Abruptly, a symphony of horns elbowed their way past the sound of drums, like a fistful of rocks thrown into a still pond.
Strange. Delanna prefers a lone instrument to keep the mythic paths uncluttered.
The music escalated in beat and intensity, climbing, darker, louder, more strident. It surrounded me, shoving aside all thought, squeezing through every cell in my brain. Choking. Urgent. Demanding. Yanking me through a vortex. Spinning. Spinning.
Vivid red streaks shot across my vision, and I opened my eyes in fear.
I stood on the edge of a cliff, the last daylight a fading outpost on the horizon. Lightning cracked through the ink sky, illuminating a river of silver and blood in a valley below.
Thousands of warriors streamed around me, pulsating, energized, a war cry torn from their collective throats, hellbent on victory and carnage.
They dragged me with them.
We descended into a pit of screams and cannon fire, roars of triumph and agony, the resonance of weapons discharged, the crunch of broken bones. I dodged bodies, slipped in mud and blood, wiped sweat and tears and rain from my eyes, snatched a knife from lifeless fingers, and fought to escape the slaughter.
A cold wind screamed through the bloodshed and scooped me into its glacial embrace. I spun across the landscape, a feather in a hurricane, the clash of the armies seesawing in my vision with a black, starless sky as I whirled over and over.
The wind dumped me into a pool of mud and muck, the jolt so vicious, I lay breathless for several moments, my body aching to the marrow.
Flares of red in my peripheral vision and intense heat pulled me away from the pain and confusion. I pulled up on my elbows and turned my head.
A burning red tower rose before me, the flames flickering in rhythm with distant drumbeats.
I stumbled to my feet, but the heat drove me back, five feet, ten, fifteen.
Where in Hell am I?
A second later, a scream split the air. I looked up.
A body hurled toward me, faster, faster, defying terminal velocity, the woman’s eyes and mouth wide with terror.
She crashed where I had lain a moment earlier.
I collapsed next to her, cold, weak, horrified, my knees no longer able to hold me. What in Hell happened? Who was she? Did she jump or did someone push her?
I gasped for breath. My vision blurred, then crystalized as words blazed in red across her black cloak.
Stormkeeper.
No honor.
Braver. Stronger. More Powerful.
None shall live.