Not today, though. Today, gods and elves weren’t his concern. He had more immediate problems to solve, like feeding people and preventing open bloodshed. And now, now he needed a break. He needed to get away from the desk. He… he knew he shouldn’t do what he was thinking, but his soul felt weary. And so alone.
He left God Spire and walked out under the open sky. He checked in with the garrison buildings—troop houses that had been built outside the towers as a show of the Church’s presence. They were manned, ready for orders should he give them. For now, they waited and allowed the guilds to operate freely.
He left them to take a walk. He felt guilty, but his footsteps took him to the doors of one of Malahkma’s pleasure houses. He grimaced at it being named after an old goddess, but he reminded himself it was just a guild’s name, just symbolic. There was no god to be found in there.
And that’s what he needed. A place where no god watched. A moment of peace away from it all. An indulgence.
Skole rose when he entered. He walked to meet the Templar. “Is there something wrong?” he asked. “I wasn’t aware we had business today.”
Pavlin cleared his throat. “We don’t.”
Skole stared for a moment and then his eyes narrowed in understanding. “Ah, I see. You would like… a room.”
“Yes.”
“I’ll see to it,” Skole said. “You deserve a break, but I understand your position. There’s a discreet room to the side with a private entrance. Other guests won’t disturb you. Follow me. Are you seeking company, or… something else?”
“Company.”
“Of course. A girl. Or a youth if you prefer?”
“A girl. Not too young. A woman. Someone nice.”
“I have just the companion you’re looking for.”
Pavlin shifted on his feet. “How much?”
Skole considered for a moment. “No, you won’t be charged.”
The Templar frowned. “Why not? I should pay, like everyone else.”
Skole shook his head. “You already have. You brought us together and saved the city. You’ve earned this.”
Pavlin swallowed the spit in his mouth and nodded. He allowed himself to be led away to the private room to meet his companion for the afternoon.
* * *
Valkrage wandered the streets of the strange city. It was a mile across with massive towers. Were it not for the crowds and buildings that had been built up in the streets, spreading even beyond the city into a suburban cancer, he could have traversed its expanse rather rapidly. As it was, he had meandered in confusion to the eastern outskirts, and stood on the ocean docks, staring back up at the massive skyline. He had no idea how he had gotten there, and had never heard of a human city of such magnitude. Humans were not friendly to high elves, so he had pulled his hood over his head to cover his features.
Something clicked in his mind. A memory fell into place. Artalon. This looks like Artalon. How was that possible? Artalon had been gone for thousands of years—
—lucidity returned to him and he panicked. How long had he been walking the streets in confusion? The Dragon core of his mind was starting to fade in and out more frequently now. When the Dragon aspects fell away, he reverted to being simply Valkrage, a young elf before Eldrikura’s personality imposed herself on his psyche. I need to get back to God Spire, he thought—
—and then it was gone again. His core sense of self vanished, and the shell of a young elven personality remained.
How is such a human city possible? he marveled again at the skyline. Where am I? He frowned with grim determination. The first thing was to figure out how he had gotten there and why he couldn’t remember. The last thing he recalled, he had been studying under the gnomish wizard Xandelbrot with two other apprentices in the city of Erindil. Kaldor and Sidhna. They had been brought together for some purpose that had not yet revealed itself. Xandelbrot had sent a paladin to find them and gather the three of them together.
Valkrage’s heart raced at the thought of the paladin. He was sure he had caught Aaron stealing glances at him, but the elf hadn’t worked up the courage to approach the human. Aaron had noticed Sidhna, too, and she seemed interested in his attentions. Damn that man for being so confusing. He should just make up his mind. Then Valkrage chuckled. Kaldor couldn’t take his eyes off Sidhna. Maybe if she liked humans so much, she would notice the southern man and leave Aaron for him.
Focus! he berated himself. He needed to find out where he was and how he had gotten here. Xandelbrot wouldn’t be pleased that he was absent.
He wandered through the streets towards the center. Constructed houses, shanties, and tents were all mashed together in a hodgepodge, out of place with the brilliant, obviously gnomish architecture of the expansive spires.
Gnomish architecture…
Surely not. It couldn’t be Artalon.
Could it?
Like every student of history, he knew of the fabled gnomish city, taken by humans and corrupted by darklings, only later to be destroyed by Archurion. Artalon had been laid to waste millennia ago… What trickery was this?
Had he gone back in time?
No, he knew from his studies time travel was impossible, even for a master Time wizard. Time was not a plane that could be traveled across. It was the magical element of change. What had happened was fixed—the past was past. Magic could only affect the flow of Time, not undo its effects.
Through the grime he smelled the scent of sex and the sweet musk of Malahkma’s Milk. This was clearly a city of the utmost wickedness.
Something in his mind clicked again, and a fragment of Eldrikura fell back into place. It wasn’t a complete memory—just an isolated sense of knowledge that the righteous and pure people lived in the towers, and these below were the unrighteous and impure. That part of his mind connected the rest of his broken shell with the formulation of a spell still held within Eldrikura’s dying power.
His eyes rolled back in his head and he lifted his arms, reciting the arcane tongue that released the power of a spell the likes of which he thought he could not possibly know. Time magic rippled forth, and temporal stasis shields sealed the halls and doorways of the ground level of each tower in the city.
There, a thought surfaced in his mind. They will be safe…
Valkrage fainted and fell unconscious to the ground.
27 - Lightfall
When Klrain the Black died, the Otherworld collapsed. The moon wept that night. The faerie realms, suspended by magic between the real world of Ahmbren and the Void, shattered into countless pieces. In the blink of an eye, billions of beings who had lived as thoughts and feelings on the winds of music ceased to be, and billions more slowly dissolved into agony as their spirits fell into the Void to be devoured by what lived beyond. A precious few remnants of the faerie world fell towards Ahmbren, scattering through the winds of the real world.
The Green Dragon sacrificed her own life to save Ahmbren from being rent asunder by the falling shards of the faerie realms. The remnants of Graelyn’s spirit encapsulated the deadly shards of the Otherworld, and the descending wisps of astral light fell softly through the planes of reality into Ahmbren. Some fell quickly, and some slowly. Some dissolved into nothingness before reaching the physical world. Though some manifested upon Ahmbren almost immediately, lightfall continued over the months that followed.
Whatever fragments of faerie reality had been bound in that wisp were held in orbit around the nucleus of the Dragon’s soul, creating a new and distinct personality. When a wisp finally descended to the world, appearing in the sky and then touching the earth, a pool of water formed as an egg on the ground and cradled the light of the wisp within it. The natural light of this world then touched and seeded the water. When the two lights joined, a body coalesced from the pool as a vessel for the new being.
Seelie bodies were cast in colored hues by the light of Ahmbren that seeded them, but they were also marked with vibrant patterns of color according to the nature of t
he elemental genetics of the faerie inside them. The new person emerged, naked and confused, filled with broken memories of beings foreign to the limitations of physical form, still raw with the final agonies of their deaths.
In the month of May, at the same time that Tiberan was brought before the Matriarch 2,800 miles away, Eszhira’s light descended slowly into the streets of Artalon in the darkest hours after midnight. Her watery light-egg formed in the unlit shadow of a back alley, and she stumbled out of the water, naked and wet. Her hair was jet black, and her skin, untouched by the light of the world, was dusk gray. Her likewise dark gray eyes were lined with flecks of smoldering purple, and the faerie patterns on her skin formed indigo whorls over her inky body.
Her knees wobbled, and she leaned against the alley wall to keep herself from stumbling. She did not fall unconscious. She had formed a sense of awareness in the time it took for her lightfall to touch Ahmbren and already knew her name. Nightblade. Her sense of self was strong enough to keep at bay the whispers of the Fae who would take over her mind. She had nearly integrated them into her being before lightfall, but the shock of finally coming to physical life threw her soul out of balance once more.
Her personality was established, but her body felt foreign to her. She had a difficult time controlling her legs and arms and moved about clumsily. She stumbled forward out of the alley and into the main thoroughfare.
It was early in the dark hours of the morning, the streets mostly empty. Buildings loomed as murky shadows, with only the occasional candlelight from a window touching the world outside. She saw the inky forms of tower bases, but their heights vanished into the dark sky overhead. Not a single star shone from above.
The few people on the street stumbled with bottles in hand or sat sleeping against the walls. No one noticed the naked elf unsteadily walk down the middle of the road. Up ahead, she saw a building with light pouring forth, beckoning through its windows. People came in and out, winking the door open and shut. She shuffled towards the center of activity. She knew hunger. She knew pain. She was exhausted, but she knew that if she lay down she might never wake up. Maybe someone could help her.
She made it to the door and pushed it open. Blinking several times, she tried to adjust her vision to the light. Still dazed, she stepped inside, blinked again, and finally her eyesight adapted.
About a dozen or so people occupied the room, sitting at tables or at the bar. Women in various states of undress stood close to patrons, letting the men fondle them. All of them stared in shocked silence at Eszhira.
“An elf!” one of them said. “A dark elf! Don’t touch her! Go wake Skole!”
“I—” Eszhira murmured. Her voice scratched. She forced words through her newborn throat for the first time. “Help—”
Her legs gave out. She stumbled and fell to the ground, knocking her temple on the hard floor. She lay on her side, cheek against the cold, moist stone. The scent of dusty, beer-soaked grout wafted over her nose.
A woman with long, curly dark hair that fell to her waist rushed to her side and laid a coat over the elf’s naked form. “You must go,” she knelt down and whispered in her ear. “We can’t help you. You can’t stay here.”
Eszhira didn’t move. She just stared at the woman with half-open eyes.
“Please,” the woman insisted. “He won’t let you go. You must leave now.”
Kill her, a voice said in the seelie’s head. Let go. Let us kill her. A single tear fell from Eszhira’s eyes.
A large, muscled man with a bald head entered the room from the back. “Move away from her!” he ordered. The woman dropped her eyes and obeyed.
He stood over the elf and stared down at her for a moment before pulling the coat away and studying her bare form. He nodded.
“Come to your feet,” he said. He pulled her up. She stared at him without expression. He draped the coat over her shoulders, covering her body again.
“Help… me,” she said again.
He nodded. “We will help you. Come with me.” He motioned to the woman, who followed him with a tray holding two glasses and some bread.
He brought her deeper into the building away from the others’ staring eyes. He helped her sit down on a cushioned sofa and drew up a wooden chair to sit in front of her. Turning the chair backwards, he sat with his legs straddling the seat and faced her.
“Who are you?” he asked. “Where are you from?”
“Eszhira,” she answered. “I don’t know… I have no home.”
“There is always a home for someone like you,” he said. “Here,” he offered her a small silver cup. “Take this. It will make you feel better.”
“What is it?”
“Medicine.”
She looked into the cup. A bittersweet smell rose from a thick white fluid.
No, don’t, the voices said. She grimaced and drank, filling her mouth and swallowing the thick fluid.
The liquid entering her stomach felt good. “I’m… hungry,” she said. “Thirsty. More.”
He chuckled. “I think that’s enough of that for now. Here, some water.”
She took the tall glass and gulped the water down, feeling like she was drinking life itself. He handed her a piece of bread. Its crust was hard and chewy, but its white was soft. It was cold and somewhat stale, but it tasted delicious.
A thrill built in her veins and rushed through her body. She gasped. Her limbs trembled at her hips and along the muscles underneath her inner arms.
Skole smiled.
“What did you do to me?” she asked in wonder, sighing. “I like it.”
“That’s the medicine,” he said.
The world seemed brighter, more clear…
…and the voices were gone.
“Interesting,” he stated. She looked down at her arms and breasts. The indigo whorls had vanished, leaving the skin unblemished and a creamy dark gray.
She started breathing heavily as her heart raced. For a moment she thought she could see the light itself from the candles, vibrating back and forth as individual rays. Her heart settled, and the rush of energy subsided into a euphoria that tingled throughout her body. She giggled.
“There we go,” he said.
The woman frowned and shook her head. Eszhira couldn’t see why. She smiled at her. The woman didn’t return the smile, but Eszhira smiled anyway. She giggled again.
Skole grinned too. “I’m glad you feel better.” He turned to the dark-haired woman. “Take her back and find her a room. A private room away from the others. She will get her own space, and don’t let anyone see her. I think I know just the man who would like to meet her.”
The woman eyed the silver cup with a small remnant of the fluid left. “When do I get mine?” she asked.
“When you’ve done what I ask,” he said. “Now go.”
As Eszhira was led away, he stopped her at the door. He took her shoulders and looked into her glowing eyes. “Go and rest. Don’t worry about a thing; we’ll take care of you. Whenever it starts to hurt again, just remember we have more medicine. All you need is to ask.”
Eszhira slept through the following day and past noon on the next. She dreamed of a Green Dragon watching over her in sadness. A dull throb ached through her bones when she awoke. Every joint was sore, and it hurt to move. Her body was covered again with the dark blue whorl patterns, thicker now. The voices had returned, louder than before.
The dark-haired woman brought her food and water and a simple white gown with blue trim and lacings. A guardsman was posted outside her door, shotgun in hand.
“It’s for your protection,” the woman said.
“What’s your name?” Eszhira asked.
“It doesn’t matter here,” the woman said bitterly. “You should forget yours, too. It makes it easier.”
“It makes what easier?”
The woman’s mouth pinched together. “I tried to warn you.” She left before Eszhira could press the issue.
She still felt weak. Despite the e
ffort, she stood and walked to the door. Her feet hurt on the floor, and her joints ached when she moved. She opened the door. The guardsman turned to block her way. “I’m sorry, you need to rest,” he said. He motioned to the bed.
“No,” she protested. “I need to walk—” she stumbled and fell into his arms. He dropped his shotgun and held her.
“See, you’re weak,” he said. “You need to lie down.”
He was right. Her physical body wasn’t even two days old. It needed rest to gather strength.
“Why do I need protection?” she asked.
“Because you’re beautiful,” the man said. “Skole doesn’t want you disturbed by those who might take advantage of you.”
“What’s your name?”
“Jorey.”
“It’s a nice name. I think I’ll lie down and sleep for now, Jorey.”
“Thank you, miss.”
“Eszhira. You can call me Eszhira.”
He helped her lie down and then left the room, closing the door behind him.
She slept for a few hours and was awakened early in the evening to find Skole sitting at the side of her bed and looking down at her in a strange way that made her skin crawl. She struggled to sit up and shrunk away against the wall.
“Shh shh, it’s okay,” he said. “The light in your eyes has grown faint. How are you feeling?”
Her body ached more. The sleep hadn’t helped, and this was something different than the raw feeling of newness from when she’d first emerged from the water. Her joints and the ends of her muscles burned where they attached to her bones. When she moved, a wave of nausea washed through her stomach from her gut to her shoulders, leaving chills in its wake. Her skin was mostly blue now, with thin strips of gray dividing the large whorls. The voices of the Fae in her head roiled even louder, thousands incoherently shouting over each other. She could barely hear Skole through the din. She shook her head, unable to answer.
“Here,” he said. “I brought you some more medicine.”
She took the silver cup from him and drank the milky white fluid. There was more in the cup this time. She settled back in the bed, not feeling any better. He sat there, waiting. Ten minutes later, that same rushing feeling pumped through her veins, eradicating all pain. Her heart thudded, and her eyes jolted open wide. Her body was gray again, the blue patterns having vanished. Her eyes shone brightly, with a sickly greenish tinge in the purple light.
When Dragons Die- The Complete Trilogy Box Set Page 27