And then Elinor’s section of the hull was on the ground. She was in one piece, unharmed, and very much alive. The same calm feeling as the one felt when she was in the beam of light, right before she had met Aysgarth, took hold of her.
“I’ve chosen a side, Ellie. I will fight for both.” The child smiled at Elinor who was breathing heavily and stunned into silence. “I know what you’re thinking. How you survived is irrelevant. The why, well, is rather simple. I’m putting my family back together again.” The child knelt before Elinor, taking her hands within hers. “Will you help me, Ellie? Will you help gargans fly again? Lemfins swim? Will you stand with the Ma΄Ranie once more? What about those you claim? Should tree-dwellers again be allowed to climb Kalloire’s forests? Will future light-bearers be born into their ranks? How about Fyr-Re clans? Will their heat again burn across these lands?” The child let go. “And what of the Lancians? Do they too deserve a second chance?”
Since fleeing her home, Elinor had faced one peril after another. She was used to fighting for survival. But on her terms and with a morbid sense of normalcy. At least she knew what to expect. In the past few days, however, all she had faced was the unknown. The impossible. At every encounter something was expected from her. The ancient one, the Ma΄Ranie, aurora-hunters and the scavenger, the woolȧrook, and even the child wanted something. Then there was Aysgarth. She felt drawn to him. It was a longing of profound significance that words alone could not express. There was a burning, painful ache building inside of her, screaming to be released. Elinor’s lower lip quivered.
“I can’t do this,” she whimpered. “I can’t do any of this. I was just supposed to give people fire. That’s all. To help keep light from dying.” Elinor rubbed her bloodshot eyes. She was exhausted beyond sensibility. “I’m sorry. I can’t help you.” She paused. “I can’t even help myself.”
The child sympathized with a warm smile. Her eyes twinkled like a star emerging from deep slumber and one that had not risen for some time. Their gentleness helped calm Elinor’s racing heart and crowded mind. “No one would blame you for quitting,” she said in a soothing voice. “You can lie down, here and now. Wait for the woolȧrook to take you. It’ll be here soon. But that’s not who you are, Ellie. Light-bearers are chosen, not born. Help me. Please? Help me rebalance what has been done. We must carry this burden together. I more than any other.”
“Why won’t you tell me who are you?” asked Elinor.
“Why seek answers to what you already know?”
Sounds of approaching danger got closer. The woolȧrook’s snarl and aurora-hunter cries carried across the marsh. Elinor looked down at her pendant. She felt its presence increasing with each passing moment. She recalled her final words with her father. His undying conviction once again helped propel her forward.
“What do I have to do?” she asked.
“Run, Ellie. Run very fast.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Side by side they fled. The child ran barefoot, exposed to gravelly terrain that would have shredded the feet of any other. She was nimble and possessed a keen sense of direction, steering them around obstacles before they appeared. Carefully, they crossed a bridge partially submerged by rushing water and then continued toward the Hollows, a vast and pitted mountain range that bordered the sea.
Led by the woolȧrook, the horde emerged from the marshlands. They entered the foothills, passed the ship’s wreckage, and crossed the river. The woolȧrook made the crossing in one powerful leap. Aurora-hunters glided over the water by extending their bat-like skin. Once on the other side they picked up the trail and rushed forward.
The child guided Elinor into a gorge that emerged at the base of the mountains. The sides gradually increased the farther they ran, rising like walls that appeared to be closing in on them. Ahead the path narrowed. From behind, the woolȧrook’s deathly howl sent a shiver through Elinor. She tried to keep pace with the child’s superior speed.
“Where are we going?” she asked.
The child calmly responded, “To the sea.” She was not the least bit winded.
Elinor’s eyes widened. “We’ll never make it across the mountains. It’s too far.”
On both sides loose sediment slid down the rockface. Elinor looked up. Aurora-hunters were charging along the edges. They soared overhead to the opposite side of the gorge and released barbs from their undersides while airborne. Upon landing they took to gliding again, creating a crisscross pattern of constant fire. Elinor and the child zigzagged through the gorge, ducking and rolling, scampering from one side to the other while trying to maintain a safe distance from the woolȧrook that was gaining on them. A fork in the gorge appeared ahead.
“I’ll go left, you go right, Ellie.”
The child smiled at her and, before Elinor could protest, she found herself running alone. Their separation caused the aurora-hunter force to split in two. The woolȧrook however had only one target in mind. Saliva spewed from its gaping mouth when Elinor appeared within sight. It released a macabre battle cry. Elinor pressed ahead with every measure of strength she had left. Barbs struck the ground around her. She continued to dodge them while periodically looking back. Time was running out. She gazed ahead, then back. Then front again. She felt the ground tremble underfoot. Elinor knew the woolȧrook was close.
A strong wind struck Elinor’s face as she broke from the gorge into a valley. The ground was softened by a layer of algae. The woolȧrook emerged right behind her. It roared. Elinor turned to see its menacing eyes bearing down on her. A scrunched face signaled its unyielding bloodlust. Its croaky voice mocked from behind, “Pretty…”
As the woolȧrook closed on its obsession, an intense flash streaked across the sky. Partially blinded by its sudden appearance Elinor squinted, raising her hand to eye level to block the radiance. A ball of light rocketed overhead. Visible within its brilliance was a white raven with wings tucked against its avian body. Beady eyes rapidly pulsated. The falling object landed in front of the woolȧrook, sending it violently backward in a balled heap. Where the light had struck, the ancient one emerged in a crouch. One leg was bent while the other was extended to the side. Her staff was held in one hand, parallel to the ground. Her other was tented against the ground for balance. She displayed her fangs and emitted a throaty hiss.
The woolȧrook recovered, releasing distorted energy waves from its palms. The ancient one charged. With every distortion launched at her she used the pointed end of her staff to absorb the incoming energy, and then spun her testalar toward the woolȧrook to launch a salvo of her own. She moved side to side across the battlefield, drawing the woolȧrook’s attention away from Elinor.
Although Elinor’s pace had slowed, she continued to push hard. Out of nowhere the child appeared close by, kneeling with her hands firmly pressed against the ground.
“Ellie,” she called, “you must get to the seaport that lies across the Hollows. There you will find ships capable of taking you to Raven Rock. That is where you must go.”
“You’re not coming?”
“We will hold the darkness here,” she said of herself and the ancient one. “Have faith. You will know the way.” She closed her eyes. The ground shook. Her arms twitched as vibrations rippled out across the valley. Approaching aurora-hunters slowed. They frantically chattered in confusion, trying to identify surrounding terrain along with Elinor’s location. Their sensory receptors were useless.
Elinor put distance between herself and her pursuers. She was proceeding on pure adrenaline. Her emotions ran high. A sense of abandonment overshadowed her fear and loneliness. Every time she met someone, received help, or had the slightest inclination of feeling safe, it was ripped from her in dramatic fashion. Elinor was beginning to think that all Kalloire was against her. No matter what she did or how hard she tried, her efforts seemed to be futile.
She reached the end of the valley. Elinor ran up a steep hill of loose shale. It was a tedious climb. At the top she looked back. Flashes of l
ight were visible in the distance. The battle was still raging. She took a moment to catch her breath. There was no sign of how to cross the mountains. No trace of a trail. The child had told her she would know the way, but Elinor had nothing to work with. Squeals carried through the valley. Elinor steadied herself by taking deep breaths. She felt the need to lie down. Part of her wanted to give up. A small piece of her even wanted to be done with it all. A life spent alone and constantly in fear was no life worth living, she thought. Self-doubt reared its ugliness again, crowding her mind.
“Ellie.”
Startled, Elinor turned. She scanned the porous landscape looking for the child. She heard her voice again.
“Ellie.”
“Are you there?” Elinor called. She frantically searched for the voice’s origin. A strong wind blew from the east, spreading shale deposit across an opening between rounded knolls. Unsure of herself, Elinor gazed back over the valley. Then, without further hesitation, she hurried up the mountain toward the path marked by the wind.
In the valley, the woolȧrook was held at bay while aurora-hunters circled in confusion. The child’s attention was drawn to the sky. “Light raven,” she shouted to the ancient one, “can you hold them? My sister comes for the girl.”
“Go. We shall hold the line here.”
A mischievous smile spread across the child’s face. Her pearly teeth glistened. “It’s been a long time since I’ve heard that phrase uttered. Too long, wouldn’t you agree?” The ancient one shot the child a sideward glance as she dodged return fire from the woolȧrook. “You too must learn to forgive,” she continued.
“We have nothing to forgive. The Lancians are responsible for this. Not us.”
The child removed her hands from the algae and stood erect. “You stood by and watched. We both did.” She raised her head. Her speckled eyes studied thin cracks spreading like roots across the sky. “The sun rises again,” she whispered and then dropped out of sight into the marshy ground.
With the child gone the aurora-hunters regained their ability to echolocate, forcing the ancient one to concentrate her efforts across a larger front. She gained momentum by whirling her staff and then began to spin, rapidly moving parallel to the enemy’s advancing line. Beams streaked from her staff in wave after wave, propelled by her body’s quick rotation. Even the woolȧrook’s sonic blasts were deflected by her rapid turning. As she approached one end of the line, she reversed course and proceeded back toward the center.
Aurora-hunters tried to adapt. They leapt skyward and glided as to flank her from above. They were pummeled from every angle as bursts discharged in a one-hundred-and-eighty-degree pattern.
The woolȧrook crouched. It opened its palm and released a ball of dim light. It floated up and out. Emissions from the ancient one’s staff disappeared within its glowing aperture. The orb expanded to create a shield that the aurora-hunters filed behind. The ancient one stopped spinning. She focused a steady beam of energy at the approaching orb. The testalar’s power was consumed by the portal forming out of the orb, having no effect on it. The portal continued to grow wider, expanding down the line to cover more ground. The ancient one slowly fell back.
Dark clouds gathered overhead, blocking the light that seeped through the fractured dome. Eternal night once again began to fall over Kalloire. Thunder rumbled. The woolȧrook pounded its chest as victory was within grasp. The ancient one stopped her retreat. She glanced over her shoulder at the mountains and the gathering storm above.
“Fair winds, child,” she uttered. Her attention then returned to the approaching horde. Her staff’s pointed end was driven into the ground. She grasped the handle with both hands and in a silky voice proclaimed, “Fah-lan-shia—flow.” Her staff shimmered. The testalar throbbed. Her eyes turned the color of jade gemstones. Shrill humming emanating from the testalar increased as energy built within it. High-pitched squeals and grinding mandibles became louder as the line grew nearer.
“Kill!” roared the woolȧrook. The aurora-hunters pounced.
The ancient one sneered in defiance. The testalar exploded, releasing a massive shock wave that drove the woolȧrook’s portal back. It wobbled and hit the ground, scooping soil, and consuming everything within its path, including the aurora-hunters and the woolȧrook. With its master’s departure through the portal the orb faded, then vanished, leaving behind a curved gouge across the ground. Testalar fragments floated down, sparkling like glitter. The battle was won.
Drained of energy and sprawled out over a bed of algae, the ancient one rolled on her back. She struggled to get up. Her tawny eyes were bloodshot. Blood trickled from her nose. The ordeal had turned a streak of her silver hair to jet-black. The strands hung loosely over a tired face that showed signs of aging. “Not yet,” she muttered through her dry lips. Her frail hand reached out as she commanded her testalar to re-form.
Harsh rain pummeled Elinor as she searched for shelter. She pulled her hood tight around her face. With hopes dashed of using the wind to guide her through the mountains, Elinor blindly proceeded. Weary eyes focused on the pitted ground. Water overflowed in the many holes and cavities. She watched one foot feebly move in front of the other as her boots sloshed across the saturated surface. Her eyes turned skyward when lightning cracked overhead. It sounded as if the sky itself would collapse.
The flashing light exposed an outcropping ahead. Rain poured over the edges, reminding her of miniature waterfalls. Elinor took shelter under it. She searched the vicinity for wood, but none could be found. Without fire Elinor knew she was in trouble. Rain was turning to sleet. And as she climbed higher, snow cover became more prevalent. She stuffed her hands under her armpits for warmth, understanding she needed to keep moving. If she stopped for too long and allowed herself to rest, she risked the possibility of passing out, which could lead to death in the extreme cold. To make matters worse, the fog had been slowly thickening. Visibility had all but vanished. Elinor could hardly see the ground anymore. It seemed the mountain was trying to choke her off from the sea. With no other choice Elinor decided to press on. She pushed drenched bangs out of her eyes and stepped from cover.
“Ellie.”
Elinor responded eagerly to the child’s call. “I’m here. Over here.” Her mood lifted.
“Follow my voice.” Streaks again flashed across the sky. Ominous eyes appeared in the middle of spinning clouds, forming a vortex that snaked toward the ground.
“Where are you?” asked Elinor over the booming sound.
“Only a few more steps.”
Elinor froze. The child’s voice was icy and had an air of sarcasm.
“Oh, what’s wrong, light-bearer? Have a sudden change of heart?” Laughter cackled from above.
“Who…who are you?”
“Elinor, Elinor, the best of us all. A light-bearer, who will be no more. She rises and falls like the coming of dawn. But all she knows is a life of gore.” Another croaky laugh pierced the fog. “Bye, bye, light-bearer.” The vortex closed around her. She felt its oppressive weight smothering her. Then it collapsed, transporting Elinor from Kalloire of below.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Clank. Clank, clank, clank. A chain being dragged across stone was ear-piercing. It was accompanied by an abrasive swishing. The sounds slithered closer. Elinor felt something warm against her face. It was dry, and tickled. She heard a snort, followed by a rumbling whine. She was nudged from the side. A distant voice called to her.
“Oh Elinor…wakie, wakie, here comes snaky…” A thunderous clap of hands jolted her awake. “I so hate doing my own dirty work. But the time has come for us to meet. Wouldn’t you agree, Elinor, Daughter of Morbis? A famed light-bearer and member of the circle of whatever. Blah, blah, blah. I find your semantics rather boring.”
Elinor sat upright. She stared into the eyes of a woman dressed in red, slouched on a throne made from a gargan’s skull. Her chin rested in one hand while the other tapped long nails against an armrest. The woman appeared bored
. She had olive-colored skin that shimmered under moonlight. Black hair was wrapped around her head and styled in a twisted knot. On each side of her radiating face hung loose strands. Elinor turned her head when she heard rustling behind her. She quickly scampered away in fear. The woman laughed loudly.
“Oh, what’s wrong little one?” she said with disdain. “Never seen a gargan before?”
Elinor peeked from behind a column she was using as protection. Soft eyes, milky blue with a black slit, peered down at her. The gargan’s forked tongue slowly flickered. It had a spiraling horn at the center of its triangular head that was chipped and cracked. The gargan was bound by a thick iron collar and chain.
“Well say hello, Zi,” mocked the woman.
Zi lowered her head and slinked away.
“What is this place?” asked Elinor.
She gazed around the room that was aglow in pale light. The great hall was lined by columns that once supported a vaulted ceiling. Debris from the collapsed structure littered the floor. Iron candelabras had been tipped and discarded, stacked to the sides in an entangled heap of metal. Banquet tables had been overturned, and chairs were strewn about. Tattered needlework celebrating Kalloire’s abundant wildlife hung from the walls. Birds soared above vast oceans teeming with life. Animals roamed the forests and depictions of an intricate network of underground tunnels showed a diverse ecosystem with night flora and bioluminescent animals flourishing in the darkness. Opposite the woman, wood doors plated with aged copper were open to the outside. A manicured lawn, and trees styled to grow in fanciful shapes and abstract designs grew in abundance, while under the moonlight marble statues of stoic warriors appeared as apparitions.
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