by Liara Woo
His wrists were tied together by a frighteningly thin length of rope and attached to the underside of a bridge that spanned the diameter of the stone pit of magma. He could see Blacknack's dragonish face peering down at him from the bridge. Halthren glanced down again and instantly wished he hadn't; his head began to swim again and he felt horribly nauseous. He closed his eyes and took swift, shuddering breaths.
"I wouldn't struggle, if I were you," Blacknack snarled. "This rope's liable to break, you know." Of course, he didn't tell Halthren that the rope had been enchanted and was stronger than iron. "Now…are you going to tell me where your prince is?"
"N-n-no," Halthren whispered, unable to stop his voice from shaking.
"Louder!" Blacknack roared, reaching down and grabbing the rope, tugging it so that it swung back and forth much too fast for Halthren's comfort. The elf felt his stomach do a back-flip, and he became even queasier.
"I w-won't—t-tell y-you," he said haltingly, only a fraction louder. But Blacknack heard him. The demon severed another thread and Halthren dropped another foot. Again he was unable to suppress a childish gasp of terror. Little did he know that even one thread of the enchanted rope would hold a fully-grown dragon. He closed his eyes and clenched his teeth, feeling the heat of the magma engulfing his trembling body. "Leave me alone," he whispered, despite knowing that Blacknack wouldn't hear him and wouldn't care.
"You'll be a star long before your time, elfling," the demon cackled.
"A star," Halthren muttered in a daze. Overcome by a sudden desire to see true light, he tilted his head back and gazed upward. Above Blacknack's hideous face, above the rim of the pit of magma, beyond the wisps of black smoke, there were two white stars. Halthren felt his racing heartbeat slow down, and peace filled his soul. He closed his eyes and let his head drop onto his chest. All he'd needed to know was that there were still stars watching out for him. Now that he knew, he felt as if he could endure anything. He could feel the presence of the spirits of those two stars around him, soothing him, encouraging him.
Be not afraid, Halthren Legendheart, chosen one of the stars. The silver in your eyes means that we will protect you. We will stay at your side until clouds cover us once more. Have faith in Light and Goodness. Be strengthened.
Halthren jerked his head up again and glared at Blacknack; his silver-blue eyes were icy daggers of hatred and determination. "I'm ready for your questions and your tortures, demon. And I won't answer you." No matter how frightening heights were to him, the thought of the entire world being overwhelmed by evil was even more terrifying, as he now realized.
Blacknack was furious. He'd thought for certain that forcing the elf to face his greatest fear would get him to speak. He roared his frustration to the world and stamped his feet on the bridge, which shook beneath him. Halthren's stomach did more acrobatics, and he retched, feeling ill and dizzy. The demon looked down and saw his prisoner's discomfort. His rage ebbed and he laughed. "There are other ways to make you speak," he spat. "You can't hold your tongue forever. I'll send a dispatch to the Shape-Shifter. I'm positive that he'll be able to come up with something to loosen your tongue."
The shape shifter. Now I know what rumors to believe, he thought, feeling even sicker at the thought. Nashgor is a shape shifter. Not a demon king or a shadow, but a shape shifter. And now he'll be working on some Dark design to defeat me. But then, who is the shadow? His insides tied themselves into knots and then turned to mush, and he threw up the meager remnant of the contents of his stomach.
* * *
He spent the night deep underground, in a dark, filthy cell. He felt sick with nerves and fear, but although he retched, there was nothing left in his stomach. The demon guards outside of his cell occasionally threw rocks between the bars, hitting him hard and making large black bruises. Halthren closed his eyes and curled up in one corner, wishing it would all go away…wishing Treemoon was alive again…wishing he was safe in bed at the castle.
Before he knew it the three guards were unlocking his cell and coming in. Halthren decided to initiate another escape attempt; he staggered to his feet charged them, raining blows on their heads. The past five times he'd been captured, he'd employed this same strategy, attacking the guards and knocking them senseless, and then running for his life.
It didn't happen this time. He knocked one demon down with a powerful blow to the head and had raised his fists for another strike when his arm was agonizingly wrenched backwards.
"Aaah!" he shouted in pain, and the demon only brought his arm higher, into an even more excruciating position. Halthren gasped and then clenched his teeth as the grip on his arm tightened. Then the demon he'd been about to attack drove his fist into the elf's stomach, and the one demon he'd managed to knock down punched him in the face, making his already bruised jawbone throb again.
"That's fer the bump on me noggin, elfling," the guard hissed. Halthren scowled at him.
"Ye'll be comin' with me, now," the other demon growled, directly into the elf's ear. "An' if you struggle, ye'll be flogged."
I'll probably be flogged anyway, Halthren thought apprehensively as his other arm was wrenched back into the same awful position and his wrists and elbows were tied together. He gritted his teeth against the pain and stumbled as the demon roughly shoved him forward. His legs, weaker than he'd realized, gave beneath him and he collapsed on the dungeon floor. The demon pulled him up by the neck of his ragged tunic and forced him to walk.
"We're under orders not to be gentle," the monster said happily. "An' if you struggle we're liable to be even less gentle. Do as we command and you might just last through the day."
What have I gotten myself into? Halthren wondered as he walked through the dungeon, steered by the demon's massive hand at the back of his neck.
It was a hard walk for him, deprived of food and water and beaten as he was. Most of it was upstairs, and occasionally the demon escorting him saw fit to slam his face into the wall or hurl him against the stones. By the time they reached the arena, Halthren's already broken nose was bleeding again, as was his upper lip, and he was thoroughly bruised and aching all over. When his escort let go of his tunic, he slumped to the ground, out of energy and thoroughly miserable.
Blacknack was waiting. "You did well," he said to the demon escort. "Tie his wrists in front of him."
Halthren made no move of rebellion as his hands were bound in a different position. The defiance was leaving him, and he was now more than ever convinced that his life would end here in the darkness. Though he knew that he could never betray Joran and he never would, he no longer dreamed of escaping.
"Tell us now, or face great agony," Blacknack growled. "Where is your prince?"
Halthren said nothing. His eyes were closing from exhaustion…his head felt heavy from fatigue…his chin was dropping to his chest…
"Wake up!" Blacknack roared, lifting him by the back of his tunic and hurling him into the wall, where he slid to the ground with a low moan. He did not try to get to his feet. The demon assisting Blacknack had to pull him up into a sitting position.
"Tell me, pathetic creature, where did you hide your precious little prince?"
With an effort Halthren raised his head and met Blacknack's fierce yellow gaze. "I'll never tell you," he murmured. "Never. If you have to send me through an entire world built upon nothing but evil…even if you destroyed my soul…I would never betray my friend or my country or everything worth living for in this world. Do what you want with me."
Blacknack reached down and gripped Halthren's throat, squeezing the air out of him. Weakly Halthren reached up with his bound hands in an effort to free himself from the choking grip. Blacknack grinned wickedly, his black teeth glistening with slimy saliva. "You're stubborn, elfling. Stubborn and loyal. But I'm still convinced your will can be broken. You and I have something in common, little monster. I'm stubborn and loyal as well. Get used to agony." He released his grip and Halthren slumped to the ground, hardly conscious.
> "What will you do now?" asked the other demon.
"We'll beat him first. Then we'll ask him. We'll see if he's so bullheaded when his limbs are splitting from agony." Blacknack stomped over to one side of the arena, where numerous assorted weapons hung on a rack. He selected a whip with sharp flecks of iron embedded in the ends, and then he stormed back to Halthren. He raised his arms and flicked it forward with all of his might, sending it tearing through Halthren's ragged tunic and biting at his flesh. Halthren cried out feebly, again and again as the whip snapped down on him. But then he closed his eyes and clenched his teeth, enduring every blow with silent misery.
Outside of the prison, beyond the clouds of smoke and in the dark night sky, stars shot across the sky, trailing long, glittering tendrils after them. It was as if they were weeping.
The Lake
The Lake
The gray mare trotted to a halt after about fifteen minutes. Katie was delighted to find that it was Darktail who waited for them, partially hidden by a few bushes and aspen saplings. She slid to the ground and rushed to embrace him. "You're alright!" she exclaimed, breathing in his warm, musty scent.
Darktail nuzzled her shoulder affectionately. "Of course I am. I simply needed a few minutes of sleep. And though I pledged my allegiance to you, my father told me, in light of recent events, that horses should stay together. In other words, I am allowed to stay with him and his herd. But if you are in need of me, I will stay."
Katie didn't quite know how to answer. She was aware that Joran was looking at her expectantly. He thinks I'll be going with him. He thinks I won't be staying here long. "W-well, Darktail…that's awfully kind of you… but you can definitely go back to your herd. My backyard isn't big enough for a horse, and if it was I wouldn't know how to get you there—my parents don't own a horse trailer. But if I ever come back to the White Mountains, I'll say hi."
Darktail nodded, seemingly pleased with her decision, although he probably hadn't understood all of what she'd told him—especially the bit about backyards and trailers. "I will always be willing to help you in any way," he whinnied. "But now I have been instructed to carry you the rest of the way to the safe haven my father found for you."
Joran slid off of the gray mare and limped over to Katie. Darktail addressed the mare first. "Thank you, Mistflight. You may return to the others." Then he turned to Joran and his ears flattened. "You're bleeding. The wound on your foreleg is superficial, but you'll want to have the one in your hind leg looked at as soon as possible. And you risk infection from the scratches on your chest; bear claws are notoriously dirty." He let out an explosive breath through his nostrils and shook his head. "Come; you are close to safety now."
Katie climbed onto the horse's broad back. This is getting easier now that I've done it so much. She turned to see if Joran needed any help mounting, but he leaped on with more grace and flexibility than she'd thought possible with his injuries. Darktail looked back to make sure that they were balanced, and then he lurched forward into a swift walk, quickly accelerating to a trot and then a rocky canter. He moved through the quiet woods with ease and confidence despite the darkness and the thin wisps of cloud flitting across the newly-risen moon, marring its light and sending confusing shadows across the landscape.
After a few minutes of riding in silence, Joran decided to speak. "Er…do you have an idea of how to get back to Kylaras yet?"
Katie swallowed nervously and refused to look back at him. "No." She gulped again, her stomach fluttering with anxiety. Tell him what Drorin said. Tell him, she told herself. Say it! Just say it and get it all over with! SAY IT!
Hesitantly she began. "Ummm…a friend of mine, Drorin, a red-tailed hawk…he told me about a stag named Starling who lives in a cavern at the bottom of the lake shaped like a crescent moon—the lake you came out of. He said that Starling knew about Allagandria."
"Great!" Joran exclaimed, sounding more hopeful than he had since she'd met him. Katie felt her heart sink, and she winced at his next words. "How do you get to the cavern? I'm guessing that there is a tunnel of some sort, right?"
Katie bit her lip. I guess I'd better get this over with. "I don't know. We have to swim." She braced herself for the inevitable disappointment, the shock, the misery that would soon present itself in Joran's face and voice.
"That doesn't sound too hard," the elf replied determinedly. Katie looked at him in surprise.
"This lake is, like, a hundred feet deep," she told him skeptically.
"I know," he responded nonchalantly. After a moment's hesitation he added, "If you want I'll go with you."
Katie was taken aback. "You thought I was going down there alone?!"
"Well…yes. Halthren told me that according to the ancient prophecies you'd have abilities unique to every race in Allagandria. You told me when we first met that you might be able to breathe underwater, probably because the white reindeer of Kylaras can do so as well. That will be very helpful now, won't it? This Starling that you speak of is probably one of those reindeer, and that would explain how he could get to a cavern underwater. He's probably a hundred years old and might know the legends better than anyone except perhaps Halthren. Certainly better than I do. They never did teach legends in school."
Katie's anger dissipated for a moment in the face of curiosity. "You make it sound like you've finished school."
"I have. And a course specifically on combat as well."
"But how could you have finished school already? Aren't you like fifteen or something?"
Joran laughed at her obvious befuddlement. "No, actually. I'll be seventy-five in a few months."
Katie looked over her shoulder and studied him closely. His cheeks and chin were smooth, and there were no wrinkles or lines of age anywhere on his being. He looked like a kid, not an old man. She looked deep into his eyes and was shocked to find that in the blue-green depths of his irises, she could see the traces of his age. She could see the years etched there. Katie shook her head, trying to clear it. "But you look like someone my age!"
"Elves age differently from humans, I suppose. If fifteen is the equivalent of seventy-five, then I suppose an elf would age one year for every five of your human years. Until we turn a hundred, of course. Then we let ourselves lose track of years, because our aging slows down exponentially. A hundred years is considered adulthood, and by the time we reach a hundred twenty-five we stop aging completely. Years cannot kill an elf, Katie. Grievous wounds, poison, and Darkness can. But we are Light, and so as long as there is goodness in the world and in our hearts, we have the potential to live forever. When we have lived the life we are meant to live the Creator of all goodness takes us up to live with Him, and there we dwell in perfect peace and happiness forevermore."
"How…how old is Halthren?"
Joran's face fell. "He…turned a hundred the night I left. The night he was captured. It is our tradition to celebrate birthdays at midnight, and the demons attacked before then, so no one really acknowledged it. He must feel lonely and forgotten. But he has enough to worry about now; perhaps he's forgotten that he's an adult now."
Darktail carried them to a small clearing where the branches of the trees had intertwined to form a canopy above them. Dappled shadows danced elegantly on the tall grass.
"This is not too far from the crescent moon lake you mentioned," the stallion informed his passengers. "I have taken you here, instead of to the safe haven, so that you will not have as much distance to travel tomorrow. Rest here tonight; you will be safe."
"Thanks, Darktail," Katie said, dismounting and sitting on the ground with a sigh as her sore legs bent. "For everything."
"My pleasure," Darktail murmured, lowering his head in a movement akin to a bow. Then he galloped off into the forest and all that was left of him was the sound of receding hoof beats.
Katie leaned her head back against the nearest tree, gazing up at the canopy above her, but her mind wasn't focused on the trees. "Joran…if I do go to Kylaras…I'll be able to
get home, right? Because if you tell me there's no way back, that's it. I'm not going. I'm not sacrificing being with everyone I love for a world that isn't mine, and I don't care if that sounds selfish..."
Joran looked up at her. "Calm down, Katie. You can always go back through the Forest of Mist. It's what brought me to Earth."
Katie picked at a wildflower. "What will my parents think if I'm gone too long? And my sisters, too. What will I put them through?" Guilt rose up within her like a helium-filled balloon.
"Nothing as bad as what Halthren is going through," Joran murmured passionately. "He's a good elf, Katie. The best. He's everything I strive to become. He's my best friend, and the closest to family I have left. You came for me when I was captured; you must understand why I must go back for him. He's been taken by Darkness on many occasions, but this time is different. I could see it in his eyes. He believed that this imprisonment would be his last. No elf should die a prisoner, away from all Light, and it's worse for him because he'll be tortured before he dies. I must save him."