by Quil Carter
“Chaka.” Ben swallowed, he felt a surge of guilt.
“‘He’s a cursed son of Shol!’ the humans protested. ‘He had never lived,’ they cried. Anea had sent them a broken god, a shell, not a god at all but a shattered deity who never lived at all. But Anea paid them no heed. All gods were sent to their worshippers a shell, a shell to be filled with love, devotion, and worship. To grow with their worshippers and tend to their garden so fruit shall flourish. Schrael was no broken god, but a god that had been filled with not love, but hate and abandonment, for the humans were a cursed people, a blight on Elron…” Teal turned another page again, his tongue sticking out the edge of his mouth in concentration. “And it goes on for a bit insulting humans… for a good four pages it looks like.”
“We’re not all bad,” Ben said defensively, though his heart was heavy. Leave it to the humans to kill their own god.
Teal opened his mouth to continue when Malagant suddenly let out a scream.
Ben looked down to see Malagant’s eyes roll back into his head, then he started shaking violently.
Ben swore and kneeled down beside him. Malagant’s body began to seize and as it did the elf brought his free hand to his face and started digging his fingernails into it. He screamed again through clenched teeth and started clawing at the sides of his face.
“Chaka!” Teal swore, quickly setting the book down. He grabbed Malagant’s free hand closest to him and tried to pull it from his friend’s face.
“Mel, Mel, come back,” Teal said hurriedly. He held the elf’s hand back with both of his. “You need to calm down. It’ll pass.”
“God dammit, we need to tie up his other hand.” Ben grabbed the rope that was tied to the other bedpost and quickly wrapped it around the hand Teal was holding down.
Malagant screamed again; his back arched off of the bed as his body writhed and twisted. There was foam collecting on the corners of his mouth and it was taking all of their strength to keep Malagant from hurting himself.
Ben’s heart pounded in his chest, it was terrifying to see his friend in such a state. He had to trust this was normal, but being so far away from anyone who could possibly help them filled Ben with fear.
After Malagant’s hand was secure, Ben held the elf’s head, blood seeping through his right hand from the small cuts on the side of Malagant’s face. Ben petted his hair back and shushed him; not knowing if it would help or if Malagant could even hear him – but he didn’t know what else to do.
To their relief, a few moments later, the shaking subsided.
Malagant slumped down in the bed but his body remained rigid and stiff. Not trusting that it was truly over Ben and Teal still held Malagant down, their eyes never leaving his face.
After several tense moments, Ben finally started releasing his grip, enough to grab the cloth that had fallen to Malagant’s side. He gently wiped the foam that was now dribbling down Malagant’s facial stubble.
“Let… let go of me, Josiah,” Malagant groaned, moving his head away from Teal’s hands. Teal reluctantly let go, his own breath quick in his chest.
“It’s just Ben and Teal,” Ben said quietly. Teal disappeared for a moment before returning with a second cloth. He started wiping the blood from Malagant’s face.
“He mentioned there would be hallucinating,” Teal whispered, his eyes wide and fearful. “These cuts are shallow at least – do you think the worst of it is over?”
“I’m not sure, I hope so.”
“Josiah?” Malagant moaned again; he shut his eyes tight before opening them. He looked around the room with a dazed expression on his face. “What’s wrong with me? What’s happening?”
“How do you feel, Mel?” Ben asked.
“My arms feel really funny,” Malagant said. “Like they weigh a hundred pounds each. And my body, it just… aches all over, and my eyes hurt. What happened, Jo Jo?”
“He calls him Jo Jo? That’s adorable,” Teal whispered. His hint of a smile helped break up the terrified look on his face. “I wonder what Josiah calls him?”
Ben smiled too, before re-wetting the cloth. “Well, you are just getting over the flu,” he said. When Teal gave him a confused expression Ben shrugged.
“Why fight it?” he said. “If he thinks Josiah is here, and it’s just a flu, maybe it will keep him calm.”
“I am?” Malagant asked, squinting his dark blue eyes.
“Yeah, nasty one, really had you out for a couple days,” Ben said quietly.
“I – I don’t believe that you’re J-Josiah, you s-sound different,” Malagant said quietly.
Ben thought for a moment, before he smiled. “Dad loves me a lot more and you’re a disappointment.”
Malagant stopped writhing for a second, before his brow furrowed. “Oh – it is you then. You sound s-strange.”
Teal had to put his hand over his mouth to hide the laugh, Ben just grinned.
“I wonder how much stronger his bones are going to be after this?” Teal wondered out loud.
Ben shrugged. “Whatever it does do will be an improvement. Anything that can help us with Erick is worth doing.”
The two of them sat there on opposite ends of Malagant, not talking, just watching over their friend. Malagant continued to lie there, his eyes unfocused. The elf looked like hell, but at least he no longer had the froth running down his chin; Ben wiped that up and it hadn’t started collecting again.
When they knew Malagant wasn’t a danger to himself, or suspected it at least, they untied his arms. Malagant immediately brought a hand up to his forehead, his face still tensed with pain.
“What happened after Anea found Schrael?” Ben asked when a quarter hour had passed. He did want to know how the story ended, and what it had to do with the creation of Kelakheva.
Teal gave Malagant one last pat and picked the Anean Prophecies back up. He sat back down on the wooden table and found his place.
“It goes on for a while like I said, cursing the humans. Anea brings Schrael to Cilandil and lays him on a slab of white marble, carved out of the mountain. Then he summons his sons to witness what had just happened. There is a great debate whether Schrael was actually born stillborn, which is how he got his name, or whether the humans were the ones to kill him with their born-in darkness, or even if it was both. No one knows. Either way, as it stands, Schrael is nothing but a small boney shadow of his former self, unable to talk, move, or do anything but moan.”
Then Teal continued, “And the Elder God turned his cheek to the humans. Quietly, under his breath, he cursed them to forever be the godless race. The humans cried of the injustice. ‘The god was already dead!’ they screamed. Their swords and axes rang with anger, blood of friend and foe alike flowed like wine. Animals and humans both were sacrificed to try and garner Anea’s attention, but his cheek was already turned to them. The sacrifices rotted for naught, the cries fell on no pointed ears, for not even the elves and demi-elves would hear them. The godless race was a cursed race, and they would not spread their seed for it was rancid. Cursed beings, stay far from the blessed worshippers of Anea and his sons. Stay to your toils, tend your barren lands, for you are reaping now.”
“Now that’s unfair. What if he was already dead?” Ben protested. “So Anea ignored them and that’s why the humans became so destructive to Al’Anea. I would be too! The humans were treated horribly.”
Teal gave him a shrug that told him he didn’t know why this was either, and continued on. “It goes on for a few more pages, just about the sons gathering and Anea telling them what happened. Here is the part you’ve been waiting for…”
Teal cleared his throat. “For Schrael was a god, and still loved by his father, Anea would not cease his existence. For ceasing the life of a god was a terrible thing, never done and never to be done. For a god is the light of all that is. So Anea raised his jewel and placed it upon the heart of his son and prayed for him. He closed his eyes and looked to the heavens and honed his brilliant powers. He put his energ
y into the jewel and from the jewel it went into Schrael. A light that would cover all of Cilandil shone around them. So brilliant, like the sun at first, but as the days went on the light became as cold as moonlight. On the eighth day, the cold moonlit glow faded and in the place of the dead god was an elf of extreme beauty.”
Malagant snorted at that. They both looked to see him looking a little more with it and smiled at him, but no one interrupted the story.
“An elf of silver hair, shimmering in the light like spun moonsilk. Of eyes that matched the swirling colours of the universe. Of skin as pale as milk and as soft as silk. Naked and pure before them, he stood, flawless in all ways known to the world. Every curve, every bone, every strand of hair, like a god he had no flaws. Anea presented him with a robe of white and blue, of a thread in which he clothed his sons in, one not known to the world. And when he was robed, Anea presented him with a silver circlet of blue and purple gems only found on the moon, and a staff of rare white burl which cradled in its grasp an orb; said to be the orb of the moon itself. Anea kissed him and turned to the world. ‘Hear me!’ he called, so all of Elron could hear him. ‘My demigod. Born from the remains of a dying god, filled with my love, my blessing. However he is not whole like my sons, he is beloved. He is Kelakheva, servant to Elron, and servant to myself.’”
“Wow,” Ben said. He had never fathomed that Kelakheva had been created this way. “That’s amazing. I still think he was being unfair to the humans though. How long after did he just banish them altogether?”
Teal closed the book and set it down beside them. “A few thousand years. After they were all banished was when the hibrids overtook their old lands. Anea was so saddened by what had happened to Schrael, he didn’t want any more sons. So he became our god, and Kelakheva helped him and live among us to help us as well. You could say, in a way, Kelakheva is our god.”
“Makes sense. That’s why you’re so weird,” Malagant said with a grunt. The effects of the serum were definitely fading, though Malagant did have a string of drool dribbling down his chin.
“How are you feeling?” Ben asked.
“It’s starting to fade,” Malagant replied. He rolled over to his side, tensing his face as he did.
“So you don’t think Josiah’s here anymore?” Teal asked with a small smile.
“That was strange, I couldn’t think straight at all. I was positive one of you was him,” Malagant mumbled. “Can you help me sit up? It hurts to move.”
Ben and Teal both stood up, and helped their friend into the sitting position. Malagant took a deep breath and rubbed his chest.
“That helps me breathe a bit better, my chest is still tight though,” Malagant said. His hair was damp from sweat and he looked like hell, but he seemed coherent.
“Do you feel any stronger?” Teal asked.
“I don’t know if I feel anything, but, then again, I don’t know if I’m supposed to.”
Suddenly his face lit up. “Teal, grab a chair, hit me across the back with it! We can see how well it works!”
Ben burst out laughing, but Teal only gasped. “I’m not going to do that! What if it breaks your spine? We can’t save Alcove pushing you around in a litter.”
“I doubt your father would be impressed with us either,” Ben said, but he found himself looking around the room for something he could hit Malagant with. The room was bare, but there was a broken stool they had pushed into a corner.
He caught Teal looking around too.
“But… across the ribs…” Teal said absentmindedly, his voice trailed.
“… it wouldn’t do too much damage,” Ben finished. He suddenly spied an iron poker used to stoke the fire. “Bingo!”
“Bingo?” Malagant said. He was still sitting up on his bed with his eyes closed, massaging his temple.
“You don’t think… it’s too hard?” Teal asked, but he already had picked it up. He spun it around in his hand and held it up to examine it in the firelight.
“Open up your eyes, Malagant,” Ben said in a singing voice.
Malagant opened his eyes and they immediately widened.
“Whoa… Teal,” Malagant said. “Isn’t that a bit… much?”
Teal’s face fell; Malagant rolled his eyes. “Very well.” He shakily got to his feet and puffed out his chest. Ben got behind him to help him stand and as they both faced the iron poker-wielding hibrid, Malagant lifted up his shirt to expose his chest.
“Okay, little hibrid, I doubt you could even swing that properly anyway,” Malagant smirked.
Teal grinned and shook the poker like a bat. “Just don’t go hitting my stomach, shorty,” Malagant said firmly. “Aim for my chest.”
“Will do!” Teal tightened his grip and raised the poker, with a big swing he hit Malagant hard in the chest.
Malagant keeled over, grabbing his ribs; he stumbled back and fell onto the bed gasping.
“Wow,” Malagant coughed. He took his shirt off and started rubbing his chest. A large red welt started to form where the tip of the poker had made contact with his skin. “Well, it certainly still hurts. Ouch… yes, it really still hurts, but I don’t think anything broke.”
Teal put the poker back beside the fireplace and examined Malagant’s chest. He poked and prodded for a few moments and nodded.
“Nope, everything looks fine. Wow, Malagant, that’s some stuff,” Teal exclaimed. “You might just be able to keep up with me and Ben in a battle!”
Ben laughed. “My biggest battle was stabbing someone in the arm when they tried to rip me off on an eight ball.”
“Drug reference?” Malagant asked. Ben chuckled and nodded, getting the cold wash cloth they had used for Malagant’s head and wetting it again in the water bucket. He pressed it against Malagant’s chest.
“This is really neat. You’re getting stronger, Malagant,” Teal said.
“Yeah,” Malagant said, “let’s do something fun. Hit me again! Hit me again!”
Ben and Teal both burst out laughing.
“Malagant, you’re crazy; you should be sleeping this off,” Teal laughed.
“Only if you read me another bed time story.” Malagant laid back down and put his hands over his head. “You’re words are like honey, little hibrid. Perhaps after all of this you can get a job as a storyteller. Though not such a dark tale, eh? Read me Anea’s Blessing of Chayle, that’s a sweet story.” Malagant yawned and closed his eyes; he looked more tired than he obviously cared to admit.
“I think we should all get some rest,” Teal said, eyeing their forgotten bedding, piled in a corner by the barred door. “Or at least you. Ben, with what we found here I would rather we keep watches, let’s be nice to Malagant and let him sleep through.”
Ben waited for Malagant to protest, but he was already making snoring noises from his bed. Ben nodded and grabbed his bedroll.
“You won’t get by not reading to me though. Not from the Anean Prophecies, read me something nice.”
Teal gave a small chuckle and picked up his backpack. “Okay, young hibrid, brush your teeth and wash your face and I’ll tuck you in with a story.”
32
The storm had died down by the end of the next day, but that didn’t stop Ben’s clothing from getting soaked. They used their canvas tent as a canopy and made a cold but adequate camp inside. The fire was hot, thanks still to tsivia, but it didn’t warm the canvas like it had done in the stronghold.
After a quick meal they went right to their sleeping rolls. Ben was in the middle, as usual, sandwiched in between the twitching and muttering Teal, who still suffered from his nightmares, and Malagant, who was an excellent source of heat.
It was a good sleep though. They had pushed themselves and the horses hard that day, fearing another storm. The clouds were dark and threatening, and it was still raining off and on, but the wind was nothing more than a gentle breeze.
The snow had completely melted now, making the many rivers of Valewind swell and expand. Small streams cut their ow
n paths across the Black Road, leaving some parts so broken they had had to dismount their horses and lead them across. Malagant credited the melt to being so close to the Lazarius Plains, where snow never fell.
“It doesn’t snow at all on the plains?” Ben asked the next evening, after a hard day’s riding. “The weather has no trouble dumping on us further south, why does winter suddenly stop further north?”
“This area is special, once we’re out of the plains the weather will normalize. I’m hoping spring will be on us when that happens,” Malagant said. They were off of their horses, leading them up a small road to an inn marked on their map. “It will still be cold, just not as cold, and snow will never fall on the emerald plains.”
“But why?” Ben asked.
“It was a story my father told me when I was younger.” Malagant’s voice had almost a wistful tone to it. “There was a brilliant green Crithian dragon who came here to escape dragon slayers. He was a good-natured dragon and in exchange for letting him stay, he guarded these hills. Back then though, the emerald hills were yellow and named something different; though that name has been lost in time.”
“What happened to him?” Teal asked. “I’ve heard stories of the dragons in Xal’Crith but I’ve never seen one.”
“He was a prasnius dragon used to volcanoes and hot springs. It was too cold for him here, and when he died from the particularly frigid winter, it is said he was buried in the ground,” Malagant replied. “The legend goes that when he was buried the once yellow hills turned the same colour of green he was.” He went on, “And ever since then, like his hot skin, all snow would just melt as soon as it hit the ground, and eventually stopped falling altogether.”
“Is that how these hills got their name?” Ben asked.
Malagant nodded. “Yep, the dragon’s name was Lazarius.”
“Do you think it’s true?” Ben asked.
“I was raised in these plains; I’ve never seen snow stick here. I always found it fascinating as soon as we would pass into the Asche River lands.” Malagant paused and added for Ben’s sake. “Which is where we are right now. As soon as we would pass through, all of a sudden the snow would fall; like an enchanted barrier had been breached. Silly, but when you’re little it fascinates the shek out of you.”