Blindsighted Wanderer
Page 32
Her eyes narrowed. “We know of you, Dylana. We have been waiting for you.”
Dylana forced herself to speak. “Why? What dost thou want of me?”
The Great Lady regarded her as though deciding whether she would make a tasty meal. “Your mother was my sister.”
The crowd started muttering, but the two paid it no heed. For Dylana, there was only her and the Wise One before her; her people seemed a thousand miles away. Zandor was trying to say something, but it was lost to her.
“You are a crossbreed between the humans and the Arncæ – the beings of the water. Why else would you have our violet eyes; be able to deal our powers with no ill effect? To do what you did; to even experience life as you do every day… if you were simply human then it would kill you instantly.”
The Great Lady drew her shoulders back gracefully. “Your father knew this. Why else would he always come with you to the lakes, if not to keep you safe? Why else would he make you promise to stay away when he passed on?”
Dylana lay there, stunned. A crossbreed? That couldn’t be… her mother had been a common girl like so many others; that was what she had always been told…
As though reading her thoughts, the Great Lady carried on. “They all knew about your mother,” she said, motioning to the Asrians with a twitch of the head. Dylana broke away to stare at them in shock. Sure enough, many of her neighbours’ familiar faces were cast down, like guilty children who had just been caught out.
“Oh, they did not know about your powers. But they were aware of your origins; of how your father used to come to the tarns in the middle of the day when you do not walk in the sun. And then, how he awoke one evening to find a babe left on his doorstep, soaked to the bone and yet not in distress. Why else would they find you odd, foolish girl? They always knew you were not one of them, not completely.”
Not one of the Asrians dared meet her eyes. The only person who was still looking at her was Zandor, and he seemed just as surprised as Dylana by the sudden revelation. He was the same age as her; he would never have been aware of this secret the kingdom had covered up.
Gritting her teeth, Dylana got to her feet and faced the Great Lady directly. She was still shaking, but the creature’s words cut deep and forced a strength from her she didn’t know she had. Fear slowly drained away into an anger she’d never felt before.
The Great Lady smirked. “How I behold you! Such fury; such human rashness! What will you do, crossbreed? Punish them? Will you summon the dead to scream in their ears forever, just as you have always heard?”
“Why would my power stretch that far?” Dylana growled.
“If only you had been born a true Arncæ. You descend from the strongest of our line. But my sister was foolish, as you are.”
“How am I foolish?”
“Your resistance of the water is all that has protected you. But now you are here, unprotected, and having revealed your stolen powers to those who should never receive them.” The Great Lady paused. “Such a display – and such an existence – goes against all that must be. You will die this Midsummer night, Dylana the Asræ. All of you will die.”
The low whispers instantly turned into a scream. The Great Lady turned to the crowd, who began to panic, trying to hurry backwards towards the path. But it was too narrow to take them all; the bottleneck forced them to remain still. The Great Lady raised her arms into the air, her entire body glowing white, until it hurt to look at her. She focused on the Asrians, ready to bring the curse down upon them.
“No!” Dylana bellowed, wrenching herself free of the watery grip. “Leave them be!”
The guards quickly surrounded Zandor, but it would not be enough to protect him. Dylana sprinted towards him, just as the Great Lady brought her arms down. The light shot from her like a knife – and Dylana leapt in front of it.
It tore through her: a sharp, freezing pain which worked into every muscle. But she fought against it, drawing up her own power. The Great Lady pushed harder, trying to force her out of the way. Dylana set herself like a shield, refusing to move. If she did, it would strike her people, and the entire Kingdom of Delamere would be lost forever.
And all because of her.
No. She had to stop this. She could stop this.
She resisted with all her might, until she felt the curse somehow absorbing into her, filling her with its influence. Like water held inside a bucket, it did not breach her defences; instead fuelling her on in a way she hadn’t thought possible. It strained against her body, bursting to get out. She couldn’t hold it much longer.
In a final bid of energy, she grasped the Great Lady’s power in an iron grip. The strength of it caught the Arncæ off guard; Dylana felt her hold slacken.
Your magic will not murder us! she thought savagely. Behold as I murder it!
She let go.
The light erupted from her, fracturing as though it had hit a mirror, and struck every single Asrian in the heart. But Dylana was in control now; she had wrestled it from the Great Lady. She couldn’t stop it, but she could change it.
She concentrated so hard, she feared her head would explode. She sought every single person out, as she had sought the dead in the past, ensuring not a single one was left. When the light had reached all the targets, she forced her own power to work, sending a little of it out to everybody.
We will survive! she chanted in her mind. Come water, sun, the ravages of time… we will survive together!
The words echoed as though she had shouted them.
The last of the magic finally flooded out of her, and she collapsed onto all fours. She stayed there for a few long moments, trying to get her breath back.
When at last she opened her eyes, she gasped in shock. She was not kneeling in the water, but on top of it; and her hands were a pale greenish colour with webbed flesh running between her knuckles. As she examined herself, she found the green was all over her body; her feet were webbed too, and her hair had transformed a deep emerald. She tried to stand, but the movement made her wince, as though she were carrying a bundle on her back. Reaching over her shoulder to explore, she was stunned to find a large fin was protruding from her spine. It had torn straight through her clothes, and ran from the base of her neck to her hips, waving gently.
She slowly turned to face the Asrians, to make sure they were unharmed. With relief, she saw them standing as though nothing had struck them at all. But like her, they were transformed; every man, woman and child staring between her and each other. And every single one of their eyes was now purple.
“Very clever,” the Great Lady said, and Dylana spun around to face her again. She wasn’t sure she could fend off another attack.
But despite the Arncæ’s obvious frustration, it was clear she would not strike again. She was shaking her head in disbelief.
“I underestimated you,” she said. “You took my magic, combined it with your own, and altered its intent. And look what you have done with it.”
“I know what I have done,” Dylana replied. “All of my people now have a piece of me within them – a piece of you. You said yourself, this very night, that I was strong enough. I knew my power would stretch that far. And it protected us.”
To her surprise, the Great Lady sniggered. “You believe you have saved them? You have granted a double-edged sword, fool! Yes, you have now all forced them to share in Arncæ power – you will age as we do, one year for every hundred that pass. You may breathe under the water and walk upon its surface.
“These are blessings, but only if you had been strong enough to repel all of my malice! I sensed what you were doing, and so I altered the power also. If you so much as step one foot into the sunlight, it will not merely harm you, but melt you like ice in the spring thaw. All those who see your twisted bodies will look upon you in fear; revile you as monsters. Is that truly what you wanted, Dylana the Asræ?”
Dylana went to speak, but to her surprise, Zandor stepped forward. “She has given us life – a new existence
,” he announced, a note of malice in his voice. “We are indebted to her. Not to you, Wise One.”
The Great Lady shook her head slowly. “Then so be it. Go forth and live your new existence. But from this night on, you do it without the Arncæ.”
She cast one final glare at Dylana; then slowly receded back into the depths, leaving nothing so much as a ripple to mark her presence.
*
The residents of Delamere remained hidden in their stony homes for a time, slowly adjusting to their new forms. There were some who were angry with Dylana for what she had done, but nobody could doubt the level of her sacrifice and determination to protect them against all odds. Soon, they came to accept that it was better to live in an altered way than to join all their loved ones in death.
However, it soon became apparent that they could no longer live in the summits. The land was too dry; the air too thin. At every attempt to find solace in the lakes, they were driven back by fear. Abandoned by the Wise Ones, and the very land they had called home for generations, they soon realised they would have to move on.
When the summer receded and the longer nights swept in, they all gathered outside the home of the King. They left their homes abandoned, taking no belongings. All that was collected were the bones from the Tomb Garden, carefully stored so no two would accidentally mix.
One by one, they made their way out of the pine forests and the carpets of heather, working through the peaks in the direction of the next valley. Using the great glacier at its mouth as a compass point, they walked by the light of the moon, hiding in caves from the sun, following their King and his advisor, the Mistress Dylana.
There, in the hidden valley, they would find a new home, Zandor had said. They would lay the foundations of a new kingdom; a new Forest of the Lakes would spring up and protect them, as the mountains had done before. And Dylana made a new vow to her people: that once they were there, she would place a protective spell around the entire place, so the Wise Ones would never find them again.
Dylana had passed the power of the Arncæ to her people. And as a result, they were not Asrian any longer.
Like her, they were Asræ.
About the Author
E. C. Hibbs is the author of several novels, including the Tragic Silence series and MIPA Nominated YA fantasy Blindsighted Wanderer. She also runs Elphame Arts; creating unique portraits in both digital fantasy and graphite mediums, as well as book and CD covers. She holds a BSc (Hons) in Animal Behaviour and a Postgraduate Diploma in Wildlife Conservation from the University of Chester.
Besides writing, she reads obsessively, her favourite genres being the classics and all kinds of fantasy. She enjoys Disney and horror films, practising Shotokan karate, archery, hiking up mountains, and playing with her very cheeky cat Millie-Moo. She also models for the UK Alternative Fashion Fest in aid of local charities and S.O.P.H.I.E., and is an avid supporter of WWF.
She resides in Cheshire, North-West England.
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