The Trial

by James Hunt

  "We are here," he said calmly, and brushed a sweaty mass of hair from her face. "How are you feeling, my child? You will be well soon." Niyana grunted an unintelligent whine. "It is not long now." He said sadly. He took her by the shoulders and pulled the cloak tighter around her body for warmth. Despite her fever, the chill of the mountain air could rob her of precious strength.

  They left the light of sun behind them, and so Tarin summoned up a glowing wisp to guide their path down the cave. It floated through the air and cast its pale blue-white light over the rock walls. Niyana seemed enraptured by it, and would follow it on her own, Tarin had only to guide it. Their path wound deep into the mountain; at times they had to crouch and crawl to get through the openings in the rock. But once this section was passed, the tunnel opened up into a large cavern with a crystalline pool in its center. The water only came up to their knees. But Tarin could feel the natural energies and the power that resided in this place. He had been here once before, to witness its splendor and to meditate on its beauty. This was the first time he sought to use its power. Deep in his heart he regretted that he would be defiling this sacred place with the evil that infected his princess. But along with that fear was the hope that it would work, he had never felt such ambient power before, and he prayed it was up to the task.

  Tarin stepped in first. Showing that it was cool and refreshing he offered his hand to Niyana. But something gave her pause.

  "Come on my dear, this will make you feel better," he enticed her. "It is very relaxing, and will take away that fever." There was nervousness to his voice that she noticed. Tarin wasn't a very convincing liar. She resisted, and growled at him. When he pulled her hand, she moved to bite his arm. The old man recoiled and looked hurt.

  "My Queen," he begged. Those words seemed to snap some semblance of recognition in her fleeting mind. "Please come. It will only tingle for a little while."

  Niyana stood up straight and looked down at the hunched man in stubborn determination. Her cloak fell off her shoulders, exposing her sweaty bare skin to the crisp air. She took a brave step into the pool. The water started to fizzle and bubble around her flesh, a good sign to the worrisome Cleric. She took another step forward. And another. And another...

  Tarin waded deeper in until the water came up to his waist soaking the green leaves of his robes, all the while trailing his hand behind him for her to take as she tried to follow. It was clear the bubbling reaction of the water to her presence was starting to cause her some discomfort. But she was past fear and pain now. It was with an almost vacant determination that she waded the rest of the way. When she finally reached him, she let out a whimpe from the pain and collapsed into his arms. Her eyes rolled into the back of her head, and she closed them. Gingerly, he lifted her up into the water until she was floating on her back. The spring water effervesced around her, those dribbles of water that clung to her bare chest evaporated immediately and left a terrible sulfur smell behind.

  "O' Great Spirit, of light and life. Take this child into your caring embrace and chase from her the sickness that steals her life. Give her your gift, and rejoice in the gifts she will give to others." He gave a customary prayer, his voice never wavered despite the harrowing task before him. Niyana whimpered from the irritation of the water. Without another word, he put a hand on her chest and plunged her in completely. There he held her as the water started to boil and bubble violently around her.

  At first she accepted it. But quickly the pain grew too much and she started to struggle. With an unnatural strength Tarin held firm, his eyes closed in grim concentration, and his brow furrowed in a pained look. Niyana fought back, she kicked, she clawed, she grabbed his throat and squeezed. But the old cleric held firm. The water raged around them, and he was forced to close his mouth to keep from breathing in the noxious vapors. The water level started to lower from the violent reaction, and Tarin had to keep pushing her lower and lower to keep her submerged.

  This fight raged on for endless moments. The only progress he could fathom was when he had her pinned to the bottom of the pool, and yet still the water continued to boil off leaving less and less behind. Tarin's old skin was turning a bright pink from the heat coming off of her, and his last hairs had long since burned off his scalp in the acrid, noxious air.

  Ni! Came Gayne's voice in the darkness heard only to her. My Love, do not fight it. Let it take you. My love, trust in me.

  Niyana opened her eyes under the water, and it burned them. In that glimmering moment between life and death she accepted his words and stopped struggling. The pain was unbearable, it burned her down into her the deepest corners of her soul. But somehow his voice had made it all wash away in that brief moment. Her vision cleared, and in the water's surface she could see Gayne's face. He looked as she remembered him when he died, and not as he appeared in her dreams -- older and more handsome.

  Let me go my love. He beseeched her. It is because I am here that you will survive this. Allow me to serve my queen one last time and show my love for you. Let me take this evil with me! Let me take this pain, and fight my love! Fight for your people! Fight for me! And LIVE!

  Gayne's face disappeared as the water's surface boiled away and revealed the smoky air of the cavern. Before she could draw in a sharp breath of life giving air, Tarin's hand clasped over her mouth. She looked to him amid tear-filled eyes and saw his own face scrunched closed against the noxious air.

  Slowly a soft breeze started to swirl around them, dispersing the vile air and bring in a dry, crisp feeling to her skin. The air flowed around Tarin, whose red face was struggling to hold his breath while summoning the air sprites to clear the air. When he could take no more he gasped suddenly and about collapsed backward. His hand came away, and Niyana gasped sharply as well. Cold, crisp, wonderful air filled her lungs and for a few difficult moments she coughed up foul smelling breath.

  Tarin crawled away from her among the puddles that remained of the once tranquil pool. His strength was leaving him rapidly, and his breaths were short and labored until finally he collapse not far away. Niyana curled up on her side and hugged her knees to her chest. A great burden had been lifted from her soul, and finally she felt whole and clear headed. But it came at a terrible price. She could no longer feel Gayne's spirit within her.

  I wanted to take you home. She prayed silently to the vacant spirit. I wanted to have you with me forever my love. But I understand now. An artist's soul needs life. I was dooming you for the sake of my own selfishness. Niyana lifted herself up and sat with her knees pulled to her chest.

  "Goodbye my love," She said to the open air. "Great Spirit receive your beloved child Gayne, and forgive him his sins."

  "I felt.." Tarin gasped as he struggled to roll over on his back. "A spirit leave your body... I thought it was you... I thought...we failed." He struggled to catch his breath. Tarin opened his eyes and stared at the scintillating colors that danced over the cavern's ceiling. "Oh, so pretty..." he bemoaned in awe. But something seemed out of place about them.

  There was nothing in this cavern that should give off such a light.

  Fearfully, Tarin lifted his head to look upon his princess. He was unprepared for the humbling sight before him.

  From Niyana's back, four gossamer wings stroked the air lazily. They gave off a magical, scintillating light or blues, greens, pinks, and purples as they were made of the natural magic essences. Niyana seemed not to notice them as she stared off into the darkness of the cavern. A clump of wet blonde hair fell into her eyes and she finally moved to part it from her face.

  "Oohh..." the old man gasped and struggled to crawl to her. "Ohhh.. my queen." He almost sobbed in joy. "We did it." He breathed, and dared to touch one. His trembling hands made contact and felt the slick, tingling membrane of her wing. Slowly he stroked them make sure they were real. Niyana closed her eyes, and allowed this. She could feel his touch. With each stroke of her wing, her back twitched involuntarily.

  "Ohh.. oh my," he wheezed. "I
've.. never.. Oh my." He hadn't expected this revelation.

  "And why should you, Cleric?" Niyana asked, slightly annoyed. "You are not my husband." Prudence and decorum suddenly hit the old man like a stick to a head. He slammed his eyes shut and turned away from her.

  "My a-p-pologies! Your grace! My queen! I beg your forgiveness!" he stammered, and scampered over the pool's edge to find her cloak. It was difficult for him to find with his eyes closed, but he dared not risk looking upon the forbidden.

  Niyana rose and strode after him gracefully with the poise of a ruler, her vibrant wings stretching in the open air. Tarin found her cloak and unsurely rose to his feet. But before he could turn around, Niyana embraced him form behind, wrapping her arms around his chest, and resting her head on his hunched shoulder. Tarin stiffened when he felt her warm body pressed against his. It was not appropriate.

  "I know no words to adequately express my gratitude, Cleric, Thank you." She said, and reached over his should to take the cloak from his hands. Tarin's indignation abated with her words. She released him, stepped back, and touched his shoulder. "you may open your eyes now."

  Tarin did as he was bidden, and slowly turned to regard her. The multi-colored lights that danced over the walls and ceiling were gone as well as her wings. Only an Elven lady stood before him dressed in the green cloak of the Leaf Knights.

  "May I know your name, Cleric?" She asked politely.

  "Tarin, my Queen." He replied still unsure of how to act.

  "Tarin," Niyana began, "would you be so kind as to escort me from this place?" The old man nodded vigorously and guided her back out. Unlike their trip in, he had to check behind him constantly to make sure she was following as she made not a sound. He was delightfully surprised to find her keeping pace, and giving him a curious glance when he checked on her. When they reached the opening, Niyana turned to him.

  "I am sure you have questions," She started in all seriousness as she paused to allow the cool mountain air to wash over her. Niyana even indulged herself a moment to fling her wet hair side to side to dry it some. "But before I answer them, I have a request." Tarin could only nod humbly. "My brother cannot stay on the throne, his madness will destroy our people. I do not wish for war, but I will not turn away from it. I need a Royal Cleric, someone I can trust to help handle certain delicate matters of the royal lineage. Seeing as you have already seen me naked, it would make sense to appoint you..." Old Tarin blushed in embarrassment.

  "I would be honored," He gasped.

  "Done," Niyana snapped, smiled wryly, and started her trek down. "Ask your questions, Royal Cleric Tarin."

  The trip down was most enlightening for old Tarin. He had traveled far and seen many things in his centuries of life, but it was always as a servant to the Crown and the army. He had never been to court, or much less seen the royal family before. His arrogance, and sure-selfness had been humbled by this new opportunity to learn of things that had existed right under his nose. He attempted to be delicate with his questions -- what had happened in Zecair, how she escaped, who Gayne was -- but if he had been indelicate, she didn't show it. This was certainly not the same girl that stumbled up the mountain.

  "On one of my first nights there," She began the tale of her infection. "My captor forced a mixture down my throat that infected me. It made me burn for a man's love so fiercely it would have killed me. Luckily, my fellow prisoner relieved me." She spoke of this so frankly that Tarin didn't know which was more shocking -- the story, or her candid manor. "His name was Rad, and he was a human. But in Zecair he was given the name Kreth."

  "A human? In Zecair?!" Tarin found that part hard to believe. "That is very peculiar."

  "Wait a bit," Niyana smirked. "There is more..." she regaled the tale of their imprisonment, and how he had intended all along to be captured because she was his target. But more confusing was that he was the one responsible for alerting the Zecair patrols to her secret meeting with one of their other patrols. Apparently, he had been hired to make her "disappear" in Zecair, but had had second thoughts... or decided to redefine what disappear in Zecair meant.

  "This is most peculiar, are you sure it wasn't a cloaking magic of some sort? Humans cannot survive in Zecair. And he seems to be weaving a web of intrigue unlike any I've noticed in humans." Tarin protested.

  "I cannot say for certain. I questioned it many times. But he never lost his illusion." was all she could offer. She continued her tale, and how she encountered the Yvarna, and the Zecairin patrol...

  "And this last tale, is a secret not to be repeated." She said and gave the Cleric a serious look. Tarin was at a loss to what secret could be so dire compared to the horrors she had already admitted to.

  "I so swear," Tarin responded. He was no stranger to keeping secrets, all that was required was a verbal oath, and certain magics could be used to guarantee the secret.

  "I came a across a curious creature called a Furrel. He claimed to be an elder race. He was very powerful in magic, but also very... savage in nature. Have you ever heard of them?"

  "I cannot say I have," Tarin's brow furrowed, and he looked most vexed. "Here? In these woods? And to think I never sensed such a creature."

  "I imagine that is part of their power." Niyana consoled him as they rocky terrain melted away into grassy hills and brush. They found their way to the path through the woods they had taken previously. "They are very bestial. He said he had the Dreamseer gift -- he could visit a person's dreams. He helped me fight off the infection, but I do not know his true goals." She stated matter-of-factly. Their walk through the woods quieted after that. Niyana seemed to drift off into thought. "I don't remember much after he took me in. The hunger was becoming too strong, and shortly after I was presented to you at your camp."

  "That explains the strong animal smell." Tarin wrinkled his nose up. Niyana paused to look at him questionably. Tarin caught himself and looked ashamed. "That was rude of me, my apologies, my queen."

  "This is going to take some getting used to," she smiled affectionately at him as way of forgiveness.

  "Very true," he sighed.

  "I should visit his monastery, and tell them Rad is dead." She said.

  "Monastery?" Tarin froze in his tracks. "Did he tell you he came from a human Monastery? Here, in these woods?" The look on his face told her there was a piece to the puzzle the Leaf Knights had already discovered. "Oh my." The crunch of footfalls in the brush made both elves snapped their attention to it. A dark shadow boldly strode forth from the path in front of them. Magic had masked his presence, and the spell was fading now that he had chosen to reveal himself. Niyana's jaw clenched shut, and her hands tightened into fists.

  "Tell us old man," A Zecairin scout called out as he swished his longsword through the air. "We've heard so much already, please continue. Tell us about this Monastery." He was clad in charcoal colored leathers, and wore a grey cloth mask to hide his face. But there was no denying who he was. Niyana took a step back and put a protective hand before Tarin. The old man, shamed by her gesture, shouldered past her.

  "No, you will not have her, fiend." He snarled. He raised his hands, and a gust of wind slammed into the Zecairin man sending him spiraling backwards. An arrow from noise in the brush struck Tarin in the shoulder. The old man crumpled into Niyana's waiting hands. "I am sorry..." he grumbled, and gritted past the pain. "I exhausted too much of my strength in the cave. I should have felt their presence." The archer appeared from the shadows where the original sound came. He too, had always been there, but couldn't be seen by way of his magic. Unlike the first his face was clear, and he looked down on them with a cold superior glare.

  "Quiet you, or the next one I put in your neck." The archer warned. To add emphasis to his words, he grabbed the arrow shaft and ripped it out. Tarin grunted but bore it well. Despite his age, he was no feeble old man. Being a Cleric to the Leaf Knights also meant he was no stranger to war and pain. The archer was robbed of his delight in the man's agony.

  "
We don't need him," His companion called out, almost joyous. "She's the one we want." He was dusting himself off as he returned. His mask had been blown off and revealed his comely appearance and congenial smile. "That was almost fun old man, I'd ask you to do it again, but I don't trust you to be that gentle next time." He chuckled, and picked up his sword. Niyana eyed the steel warily. If she could get it away from him, they could fight their way free. But as it was, there was no way out of this situation. She had magic she could use, but they were skilled magic users as well. No doubt it wouldn't be an easy battle. And with Tarin injured and weak, if she risked combat he wouldn't be able to help, or worse might become injured himself. No, they needed to plead their way out of this.

  "We surrender!" She proclaimed. "Please spare him, and I will tell you everything you want to know."

  "You'll tell us anyways," The archer replied, icily. Her tactic wasn't working, time for something new.

  "You should have posted patrols!" She turned on Tarin angrily. The old Cleric shrunk away, taken aback. "The camp is not far, you could have easily spared a few knights."