Shadow Kalloire

by Skylar Gentry

  She bore down and retraced her path, across barren fields and rotting forests. Death was everywhere. It was made visible by the petrified trees and bone-covered ground, from lifeless lakes to an empty sky. No place had been left untouched. Darkness spread from the shroud-covered sky, down to the tunnels and caves carved by gargans of old. Kalloire’s once abundant life was confined to algae blooms and night flora that struggled to survive. And unnatural creatures born of shadow.

  Flying above frozen escarpments and glacier-cut fjords, the ancient one reached the Beorhts, a mountain range that separated lemfin lands in the north from Fyr-Re deserts farther south. As she climbed higher, she faced blistering sleet and howling wind. Even in darkness the sparkling ore deposits, which the mountains were named for, were visible from the sky. Between snow-covered peaks the gaping opening for the Nord Pass emerged. Taking the ancient trade route was the quickest means through the mountains, but it was not without peril. It was heavily guarded and Ka΄Phar had warned her about leaving the north.

  On high alert the ancient one pushed onward. Her beady eyes swept up, then down, and up once more. Even in atrocious weather aurora-hunters would be capable of detecting her. An earsplitting crash echoed through the pass. The ground shuddered. A line of thundersnow passed through the mountains creating blackout conditions, blocking ambient light coming from the mountains that compelled the ancient one to slow. She flew close to the ground where the air was more stable, forced to dodge snowdrifts and chunks of igneous rock as they appeared with no warning. Her progress declined further.

  From the side, a sizable force grazed her wing. Realizing she had entered a narrow section of the pass she took evasive action by climbing higher, but it was already too late. A horde was upon her. Aurora-hunters glided overhead and scurried along cliff walls, screeching and droning in unison. A coordinated attack drove the ancient one to fly in an erratic pattern. She hovered in place, dove and then climbed again, flew left then broke right, feigned one direction but proceeded along another, all the while being driven higher into the sky.

  One after another, aurora-hunters missed their mark. A few clipped her while one managed to anticipate her flight pattern by leaping in the opposite direction she had feigned. Luckily it miscalculated and the ancient one struck its hindquarter instead of flying near its mandibles. She recovered quickly and climbed higher. But that had been their intent all along.

  Darkness was replaced by glaring light. Lightning slashed the sky. The ancient one tried to get out of range by rapidly descending. She would rather face the horde than Ka΄Phar. She tucked her wings and conducted a nosedive. Wailing wind channeled through the pass, thrashing her avian body side to side. A powerful bolt zinged past her. Then another, and another, until the sky was showering lightning. There was no escape. She was struck by a crushing blow that singed her feathers and sent her spiraling out of control. Down, down she plunged.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  The next day, Elinor woke later than usual. Dreams of tunnels and cavernous domes, layered with crystals releasing fulgent light, and walls that shifted whenever she was close to finding a way out of the underground maze had resulted in a restless night. Every time she awakened and then managed to fall asleep again the same dream returned. The cycle had left her utterly exhausted. Elinor tried to lift her head, but it throbbed with pain. Heavy legs made it seem as if she had been running all night. She rubbed her eyes to get rid of a gritty sensation. It felt like they were caked with sand. She took labored breaths.

  With some effort, she managed to roll out from under her bedding onto the frigid floor. Candles she allowed to burn throughout the night had gone out. For one accustomed to living in spartan conditions, the subtle comforts of her new home were a reminder of what she had to lose. On the outside she would never allow fire to burn while she slept. Not even in the caves. Morbis taught it was too dangerous. He feared what others would do if they got hold of a light-bearer. But Elinor had seen no others until meeting the Ma΄Ranie. Regardless, she had kept true to her teachings. Forced by aurora-hunters to travel at odd hours so her movements were unpredictable, she would rarely get enough sleep, and never slept in. Having a shelter where she felt safe was a blessing. Especially one where fire could burn freely.

  On unsteady legs and with a pounding head, Elinor struggled to her feet. She desperately wanted light. She tried to focus, but the fire wouldn’t come. The candles remained as hard and cold as the space around her. Elinor redoubled her effort. Still, she was unable to create fire. The familiar burning sensation that always accompanied the process couldn’t be willed from within. There was no rush of energy. No swell of emotion. Her fingers remained cold. She was unable to imagine her pendant spinning in front of her. Her means to achieving inner peace remained hidden. Frustration turned to anger. Anger became fear.

  “No, no, no,” she pleaded. “Not the fire.”

  Elinor slammed herself onto the bedding. She felt cold. Her stomach churned. Saliva built in her mouth and her eyes watered. Elinor quickly crawled to the corner, vomiting bits of undigested algae. With her abilities gone, she no longer considered herself a light-bearer. How could she? She had no afterglow. No fire. While lying in the dark smelling of vomit, Elinor wallowed in self-pity. Her life as she knew it was over.

  “My lady?” asked Simtoren. He sheepishly hovered in the doorway. “Forgive my intrusion. I heard your discomfort. May I get you something?”

  Under the gentle glow of algae that was still reacting to Elinor’s presence, Simtoren appeared younger, although barely. His unkempt beard was gone. He had trimmed his hair. It was slicked back and pushed behind his ears. Although heavily frayed and discolored, his Lancian uniform had been washed. Gold piping along the seams of his black tunic appeared brighter. After a thorough scrubbing, his hosen were closer to their original color. There was a glimmer coming from his polished boots. Simtoren stepped inside. The signature red cape worn by Lancian warriors seemed more impressive than before. It hugged his body and was properly secured by metal brooches attached to his breastplate, instead of lazily draped over his shoulders, leaving his arms free to maneuver. Simtoren was battle ready. The sea wolf molded on his armor commanded attention. How it grasped the trident in its powerful hands, its unfaltering bearing, and the determined look of its leering eyes had a profound effect on Elinor. Particularly the eyes. They looked familiar. And above all, very much alive.

  Elinor was unable to stop staring, which is exactly what Simtoren had intended. But she was mesmerized for a different reason other than the one he suspected. It was Aysgarth she thought of. Not Simtoren. Concealed by shrill wind moving through the tree’s tunneled spaces and hollowed rooms, there was another sound coming from the nearby table. If Simtoren was aware of it, he showed no indication otherwise. To Elinor though, hidden within the soft hum was an urgent message. One she was naive of in her current mindset but there nonetheless and demanding to be heard. Simtoren’s scratchy voice broke her trance.

  “I will bring clean rags and fresh water, my lady. I am sure your sickness will pass.” Simtoren walked bedside, placing a blanket over Elinor. She flinched when he moved his calloused hand across her forehead. He bent down and kissed her head like her father used to. If she had had the strength, Elinor would have lashed out. Instead, she remained motionless, thinking about Aysgarth and wondering what she had done to deserve her cruel fate.

  Simtoren was conflicted. He desired Elinor. There was no denying it anymore. Vulnerable and weak, he could have taken her as she lay defenseless. After a few times of lying together she would come to enjoy it. He was certain of it. But she was a lady–a light-bearer who deserved his respect. After all, he had sworn to Morbis to protect her. Then there was the scavenger. It had interfered in his plans once. He would deal with it soon. The gargan, on the other hand, seemed oblivious and posed no threat.

  As he knelt lakeside to gather fresh water, he gazed at the tree. High up, barely discernable among the massive branches and bulging
knots, there she rested, appearing as just another dead branch. She didn’t eat or drink. He would have thought the gargan dead if not for the visible heat coming from her body. When she exhaled, a silky mist hovered around her mouth, and branches appeared distorted by vapors emanating from the gargan’s immense body.

  For Simtoren, a union with Elinor was logical. Why wouldn’t she want him? He was older than her. Much older. And yes, he had helped care for her as a child. But in his mind that meant she would view him as a protector. One that could be trusted. He saw the way she had looked at him. Her affection for him was obvious. Simtoren reminded himself that Elinor had been a quiet child. She was shy. Once they had the opportunity to know one another again, he was confident she would come around. He needed to be patient. But he didn’t want to wait anymore. He was a Lancian warrior. It was his right to have a worthy lover by his side. And Elinor was more than worthy.

  His infatuation was clouding his judgment. Countless moon frosts spent in agony had taken their toll. A once dedicated soldier with stanch convictions, a man who had been raised with integrity and trained to defend the innocent, was on the verge of becoming someone he no longer recognized. But like all who go to war, Simtoren had become a shadow of his former self.

  While skipping rocks across a lake that surrounded a temple constructed to be a haven for sensitive souls, Simtoren devised a plan from a mindset of weakness. Narrowing eyes and a devious smirk suggested his intentions. Out of respect he would give Elinor time to express her feelings. But if she chose to remain chaste, or rebuffed his advances, she would find out just how persistent he could be.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  Badly wounded, the ancient one fell from a blanketed sky. Blowing snow striking her feathers felt like ice pellets hurled at high velocity. She was disoriented. There was no telling how close the ground was or how many aurora-hunters waited below. Her only chance was to attempt the incredible. She would have to shimmer, using stolen light. She was in a state of flux. Her raven form couldn’t be maintained much longer, making an aerial escape unlikely, and due to her injury, she was in no condition to fight. Her transition would have to be timed perfectly. And to do so she needed Ka΄Phar. In fact, the ancient one was counting on her making an appearance. After all, it was Elinor’s stolen afterglow she required. But she would have to be close. Too close.

  She slammed into an outcropping, shattering rock and ice that sent her end over end. Her wings went limp. Out of sheer will she remained conscious. A brilliant jolt streaked past her, striking the ground with a resounding thud, and creating a noticeable target for her to focus on. Standing in a crater, snow and ice melting around her, Ka΄Phar was on the ground in corporeal form. Shrouded by rising steam and blizzard conditions, if not for her bloodred attire she may have gone unnoticed. The ancient one summoned the last of her energy. Using broken wings that she could barely control, she aimed for Ka΄Phar. Her bird eyes alternated between natural red and testalar green. She was unable to siphon Ka΄Phar’s afterglow. The ancient one needed to get closer.

  True to her word, Ka΄Phar intended to destroy the ancient one. Her eyes narrowed. Energy built in her palms and released deadly orbs that streaked skyward. She released one volley after another, followed by concentrated bolts. The Nord Pass became flooded with intense light that was enhanced by icy cliffs. Aurora-hunters screeched as they circled around Ka΄Phar.

  With her vision impaired, the ancient one managed to dodge incoming projectiles by tucking and rolling. Down she plunged, using heavily damaged wings to execute one evasive maneuver after another. Becoming a smaller target, however, couldn’t protect her from the onslaught of bolts. The serrated bursts were inconsistent and covered a much broader space, dispersing across her flight path in wide streaks. She was struck several times. Her singed feathers smoldered. Throbbing pain penetrated deep. Another jolt slammed against her. In a dreamlike state, halfway between consciousness and sleep, Ka΄Phar’s glowering stare came into focus. Flared nostrils and watering eyes made her rage apparent. The ancient one knew Ka΄Phar would stop at nothing to get her revenge. It was now or never.

  Ka΄Phar lashed out with both hands, releasing deadly bursts. But instead of striking her target, the cliff behind erupted. The ancient one was no longer in raven form. She appeared blurry, like a mirage wafting across the horizon. A large section of the rockface separated. Rock and ice came surging down. Before Ka΄Phar could recover, the ancient one passed through her in shimmer. She wailed in frustration. Aurora-hunters scampered away but had reacted too slowly to escape. Ka΄Phar however remained motionless.

  The mountain’s colossal weight slammed against her. As she was smothered in the avalanche, she stared at the ground, maintaining her look of indignation. It wasn’t because the ancient one had escaped, or even that she had been outsmarted. She enjoyed a battle of wits. What festered in her mind was the way she had escaped. Ka΄Phar remained unaware that the afterglow she had taken from Elinor could be used the same as before. It wasn’t supposed to be. Ancient ones could only shimmer by using pure light. Not stolen light tainted by shadow. It was inconceivable. The great imbalance she had championed for was being manipulated in uncanny ways. Her sister was dead. She could feel it. There must be another force at work, she concluded. One way or another, Ka΄Phar would have to deal with it. Her plan envisioned one. And only one. There was no room for another.

  Light the ancient one traveled in was like no other she had experienced. Instead of weightlessness, she felt a heavy presence. The usual sense of oneness with all things had been replaced by vast emptiness. There were no harmonizing vibrations or colorful wavelengths. Only blackness. She desperately wanted out. There was also something else accompanying her in shimmer. But it was a force she had never detected before. Although it felt foreign, it was strangely familiar. New energy. Young, and vibrating from one extreme to the other. One moment the frequency was unusually low, and the next it would surge. There was no such energy known to exist. Yet somehow the ancient one was being pulled toward it.

  Traveling long distances through dense material was perilous. One could become trapped mid-shimmer as light was absorbed. Short bursts between open spaces was the preferred method. The ancient one considered that her reckless act could result in her being trapped in rock, but she had been left with no choice.

  Ancient ones were highly resilient. They could thrive in hostile conditions, sustain an entire population with little more sustenance than what a typical tribesperson consumed in an entire moon frost, and when all else failed, they could remain in stasis to wait for a more favorable environment. But what they were not was invincible. Lore surrounding their kind had been greatly exaggerated over the ages, propagated by their own kind to protect the collective. The mystery surrounding their origin and how they appeared ageless and seemed all-powerful with the ability to control the future had been designed intentionally. This ignorance however didn’t apply to Ka΄Phar. She would come for the ancient one. She would come for them all.

  That is why it was so important for her to remain alive by any means. A great void had been left by the child’s absence. One that could not be replaced. The child had been right. Like her, the ancient one was responsible for what had happened to Kalloire. All who chose to turn a blind eye were. It wasn’t Aysgarth or the Lancians or the Circle of Six to blame. They chose to fight instead of watch Kalloire descend into darkness. As she shimmered to depths never traveled before, it was decided the time had come to summon the full might of the collective. If she could only survive long enough to awaken the others.

  Light was being drained at an exceptional rate. Under normal circumstances she would be able to control her pace and direction by using her testalar. In her current condition, however, her shimmer was fueled only by momentum gathered during her fall from the sky. She was simply too weak to navigate. All her energy was being channeled to prevent herself from phasing into physical form. But she was quickly losing that capability as well. Her shimmer was becoming
unstable. If open space was not located soon, her escape would end tragically.

  The ground transitioned from frozen soil, to layers of weathered rock fragments, to solid bedrock. It was when the ancient one reached the lowest level that she felt her shimmer slowing. The dense material was becoming impenetrable. Too much light was being siphoned off for her to continue. If only she could be fortunate enough to find a gargan tunnel or an underground lake; any sort of empty space that would allow her to transition back to physical form. It didn’t have to be spacious, and preferably it would have an external route to the surface, but she would deal with that dilemma later.

  Slower and slower she descended. The sound of fracturing rock alerted her that her transition had begun. Intermittent bouts of pain slammed against her body as she impacted solid matter. She was in flux. Shards of crystals sliced her flesh. Then she came to an abrupt halt. She gasped for air. But there was none. Like water that freezes in rock, she was expanding from light into physical form. Immense pressure was being exerted on her body. It would be a painful death.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  High in the tree, Zi had positioned herself at the uppermost point that could support her immense weight. She opened her eyes when she heard feeble footfalls approaching. Elinor emerged looking deathly white. Her fear of heights kept her confined to the lookout post built between secondary limbs near the tree’s outer canopy. A jar filled with night flora, a trick she had learned from the Ma΄Ranie, provided barely enough light for her to see. Like her, it appeared to be losing its luster. Elinor cautiously approached the edge, but she dared not look down. A tattered blanket draped across her shoulders and the way she shuffled made her appear elderly. Her fiery hair looked brittle and dull. She gazed out over the lake, contemplating her past.