Amethyst- Bow and Arrow

by M. D. Grimm

  Morgorth snorted. "Yeah, well, it's just the calm before the storm. As soon as the first leaves start to show themselves, you can bet your fine ass that more heroes will show up to lop off my head."

  I chuckled softly. "Not if you lop theirs off first."

  "Damn right."

  "And, come spring, you'll have even more power to throw around. Those kingdoms won't stand a chance."

  Morgorth looked over his shoulder at me and grinned. "Not that they did before, but thanks for the pep talk. I'm actually looking forward to a fight."

  If Morgorth didn't have such anxiety of showing affection in Master Ulezander's presence, I would have kissed him. There was a part of me which responded enthusiastically to his bloodlust, and I actually felt myself harden, just a little.

  "I really shouldn't feel this much pain," Morgorth said, his voice barely above a murmur. His head fell forward, and he leaned closer. "But it means I'm really out of shape."

  "That's because you didn't take my advice and train your body's muscles as well as your magick muscle," Master Ulezander said, coming toward us. I continued to massage, and Morgorth didn't move to stop me.

  "I took that to be more of a suggestion than a command," Morgorth said.

  I hid my smile.

  "And look where that has gotten you," Master Ulezander said softly. "But now you have no excuse not to train physically."

  "What do you mean?" Morgorth asked.

  "You have a perfect sparring partner right beside you."

  I grinned even as Morgorth raised his head and glared at his mentor.

  "I'll help however I need to," I said cheerfully.

  Morgorth glanced over his shoulder. His eyes glimmered for a moment, and I knew where his mind had gone. The same place mine had. Sex. Despite his initial claim that he wasn't good at it, I found our hours of intimacy highly fulfilling. Not just because I finally had my deepest fantasy become reality, but because our union was always explosive. It was the purist form of magick.

  "Come, Morgorth," Master Ulezander said, his hand beckoning. "We have much to cover, and we are wasting daylight."

  "I don't remember you being so concerned with light during my first years of training."

  I smiled at Morgorth's grumble. He stood and pulled his jacket back over his shoulders. He followed Master Ulezander, and I crossed my legs underneath me, getting comfortable. I enjoyed watching.

  Chapter Two

  A couple of months earlier

  Happy Valley. It seemed an apt name. I stood on the outskirts of town, having come from the east. The town bustled with life, and creatures of varying species walked back and forth, down the dirt streets, into shops, out of shops. They stopped to chat or hurried on some errand. Flayns flew over me, flapping their large wings, their hooved legs folded underneath their bodies. I frowned at the prosperity around me, the happy atmosphere that permeated this place like a thick fog.

  I couldn't help but eye the rainbow arching over the village with suspicion, however. That was very peculiar.

  It was a strange place, but oddly nice. I actually felt my own bitterness ease just a little, and the darkness harbored in my soul lost some weight. The happiness seemed alive in this place, and it also seemed infectious. I didn't mind the ease of my burden and wondered how long I would be able to stay here.

  I walked farther into town. I got some looks, but all of them were curious. Nothing hostile, but nothing overly friendly. These townsfolk were cautious, which made me respect this place more. I read signs, looking for an inn, and shifted my bag that was slung over my shoulder. I needed food. Rest. I couldn't keep going like I had been; I would run myself ragged even before I caught up with that murderous heathen who had massacred my tribe. My vision became tinted with red before I could control my rage. I gritted my teeth and shoved it down, pain radiating in my chest. Not yet.

  I found an inn, but before going inside, I turned around to look up the short, steep hill at the forest that bordered it and this town. I sensed the darkness inside it as I swept my gaze over the trees, which I guessed, went on for many kirons. I didn't know the name of the forest, but that would soon change. If that was the home of the Dark Mage of the East, I had to find out everything I could about it and him. My keen eyes tracked to the left and caught sight of a dark mountain. I rose on my toes, trying to see more. The mountain seemed to rise into a sharp peak that didn't seem to be part of the mountain itself. But even my long-range sight couldn't see much detail.

  "That would be the forest of Vorgoroth."

  I twitched before lowering back onto my heels. I turned my head slowly to the speaker. I took him as a merchant immediately: his slightly disheveled travel clothes, his shaggy hair and beard, his weathered complexion. He was a seela and looked sturdy enough to hack his way through one of those thick trees with an axe, and never break a sweat.

  The merchant spoke in the common tongue around these parts, one I'd lately become accustomed to. I knew more dialen dialects than I did common tongues, but most languages weren't very different from one another. All had roots in the language the Mother taught the payshthas.

  The merchant's words were slightly accented, indicating he wasn't originally from around here.

  "Would it?" I asked softly. I knew he saw the painted mask I wore across my eyes, the evidence of my hakum. I knew he saw my own travel-worn clothing. And yet he was talking to me without fear.

  He nodded at me, tucking his thumbs into his belt. "That's the proper name, but the locals call it Black Forest. Or Dark Forest. And that mountain you can just barely see, it doesn't have a name. But the fortress on top of it is called Geheimnis. It's the home of the Dark Mage."

  My ears perked at his mention of the mage. I lowered my cold guard just a little. Maybe he could give me some information. Merchants love to talk about all they know and where they heard it. They sold stories and rumors as much as they sold merchandise.

  "How much do you know about the Dark Mage?"

  "As much as the rumors tell. But I don't tend to believe everything they say."

  I nodded slowly. "I'll buy you a drink if you'll tell me what you've heard."

  His eyes lit up. "That's a deal."

  I paid for a room at the inn and left all but my bow, quiver, and short sword there. I let the merchant lead me to a small pub, and we found a table in the back corner. Patrons gave me a wide berth, as well they should. Despite my cold attitude, I was boiling inside. It was getting more difficult to stay in control of my rage. I wanted to vent it, to cause pain; I wanted others to feel the way I felt. But this town's atmosphere conflicted with those desires. I wondered how such a place could prosper when it was within the shadow of the Dark Mage. Why would he allow this village to flourish when he could so easily obliterate it?

  Was this my Dark Mage? It was too early to guess.

  We sat, got drinks, and then I gestured for him to start.

  "Well, the Dark Mage came to this area many years ago. Before then, the two kingdoms were always warring for this territory, but Happy Valley never seemed to get in the middle, which is odd considering the location."

  I said nothing. He continued.

  "The forest was still a dark place to travel through, but most passed safely enough. But when he came... They say he brought darkness with him. Howls and roars could soon be heard coming from Vorgoroth as he began to build on the mountain. Pounding could be heard all hours of the day and night, and strange lights glowed, and flashed around the mountain. A few years later, a castle fortress appeared on the mountaintop. Only then did the Dark Mage actually visit Happy Valley."

  I took a sip of ale, realizing my hand was trembling. He paused to take a drink as well.

  "Did anyone describe what he looked like?" I whispered.

  The merchant nodded. "This is a story that's been passed around and told to anyone who'll listen. Most say that he wasn't as, well, big as they thought he'd be. He was actually on the scrawny side. His hair was a stark black, and his eyes glowed
amber. He wore all black, and his clothing was strange. Not a tunic, but not robes either."

  My heart rammed painfully into my ribs, and I had to take a hasty gulp of ale to swallow the sound that wanted to escape my throat. My trembling hands became more visible, and I lowered them to my lap, clenching them together.

  "What else?" My voice was slightly hoarse.

  The merchant didn't seem to notice my reaction to his words. "He warned the townsfolk. He was their Dark Mage, their Lord now, and they were under his protection and mercy."

  "Did he tell them his name?" My skin grew cold as I awaited his answer with little patience.

  The merchant scratched his chin, his fingers rasping over his beard. "Well now, I think he did. What did I hear? It was Lord-something. Lord... hmmm. I think it started with an 'M'."

  I fought the intense urge to wring his neck for the answer. I gripped my tankard of ale and vaguely noticed the pain of my hands as I tightened my hold.

  The merchant suddenly turned his head. "Hey, Lycer!"

  Another merchant, one with long blond hair styled in loops around his head looked up from his own tankard, his eyes red. He looked like he hadn't slept in a few days. I knew the feeling.

  "Wha'?"

  "What's the name of the Dark Mage?"

  At the mere mention of him the entire pub fell silent. The voices stopped, the impromptu singing was silenced, and the few instruments being played were dropped. I blinked as I slowly looked around at the stunned and terrified faces. They were all looking at the pair of us.

  Lycer stared at the merchant for a moment before swallowing hard. His voice was hushed when he spoke, as if speaking the mage's name might conjure him.

  "Lord Morgorth."

  The entire world suddenly spun and tilted, and I think I passed out. The next thing I knew, I was on the floor, and a crowd of townsfolk were around me. The merchant tapped my face, and whispering was all around us.

  "What happened--"

  "--a spell?"

  "Is he sick?"

  "Does he know the Dark Mage?"

  I scowled and shoved the merchant's hand aside. "Get away," I said, hard and aggressive. Everyone took careful steps away; even the merchant had a shred of fear in his eyes.

  I slowly stood, paid for the drinks, and walked out of the pub. Then I just stood outside, tilted my head back, and closed my eyes. I breathed slowly, focusing on the crisp air, the scent of rotting leaves, of moist dirt.

  I hadn't known, not for sure, if Morgorth was the Dark Mage of the East I'd heard about. I hadn't known if this was his home, if I was pursuing the right one. But now I knew, without a doubt, that he was here. He was here.

  For the first time since I lost my tribe, I felt my mouth stretch into a smile. I felt my mind turn to something lighter, happier. I had found him. After all those years of waiting and suffering, and pining, I had found him.

  "Morgorth," I whispered, memories flashing through my brain, a child's love blooming inside my chest. It didn't banish the rage, the raw grief that still resided inside me, but it gave me another focus, a happier focus for the first time since all this tragedy unfolded. I would find my love, and I would make him help me kill the murderer of my tribe. I knew my own limitations, and, like everyone on Karishian, I'd heard rumors about the Stones of Power. I needed a powerful mage on my side; who better than Morgorth?

  I swallowed hard, my gut twisting in excitement and anxiety. I rubbed it.

  With the knowledge that I was so close to him came not only hope, but fear as well. Would he remember me? Would he even know me? Would he remember saving me from that trulbar or his time spent with my tribe? I remembered his words to me, that day in the forest when he left and broke my heart. He told me that we would meet again, that we were meant to be together. He told me to keep silent about his deeds with my tribe, to meet him again as if we were strangers. He said that he would not know me, that he might even be cruel -- but that I was not to give up. He made me promise not to give up on him. He promised me that he would love me again and that I had to grow into the strong dialen I was meant to be. I had to become a healer, an expert archer, a superb swordmaster. He told me that he would need me to be all those things. He would need me.

  I promised him. What else could I do? And so I grew and trained, and never forgot his face. His words. His promise.

  The door to the pub behind me suddenly opened, and I moved out of the way, pulling my cold attitude back into place. It was the merchant who I'd been talking to before.

  He saw me, seemed to hesitate, then approached me.

  "You sick?"

  "No."

  "Good. Well, I have to be going."

  I nodded. He turned to leave, but then stopped and turned back. "I don't know what your interest in the Dark Mage might be, but I'm cautioning you not to seek him out. You'll never get to him unless he wants you to. He has dangerous minions under his command, and they'll eat you before you take two steps into that forest."

  I inclined my head to him, saying nothing.

  "Also, I should tell you, no one's seen the mage in a year or so. Nor has anyone heard about him or from him in that time. Don't know what's become of him."

  He left. I stared at his back. I clenched my bow and denied the thoughts that shot through my brain.

  Was he dead? No! No, he couldn't be dead. That made no sense. He had to be alive. We had to be together before he journeyed back in time, right?

  Panic caused my breathing to quicken, my muscles to tighten. No, I wouldn't believe it. He was alive, by the Mother, and I would find him.

  I had to.

  ***

  It was morning, and the village was burning. The sounds of battle had awakened me, and after dressing quickly and grabbing my bow and quiver, I raced outside to be struck with the overpowering scent of smoke. The smell was nauseating and far too familiar. I ran toward the sounds of battle, my bow gripped hard in my hand. Townsfolk knocked into me, screaming in fear, and I staggered into the wall of a building. Rage gave me courage and strength as I ran toward the source instead of away. But the fire's smell, the smoke, was so similar to that which consumed my tribe. It must be him. I couldn't run away now; I had him so close. He had delivered himself to me.

  I ran to the market area of the village and nocked an arrow. I looked around, my sharp eyes missing nothing. A falling, flaming flayn suddenly crashed not far from me. The beast thrashed and shrieked in pain and fear, its eyes rolling alarmingly. Instinct had me nearly running to its side, but then a directed gust of wind smothered the fire in less than five heartbeats. I whipped my head around to see the source.

  My heart stopped, only to speed up, nearly breaking my ribs with its force.

  A lean figure dressed in black stood in the middle of the ruined marketplace with food, pottery, wooden dolls, and other items lay strewn around his feet. His pale hands were outstretched, his black hair gleaming under the sun's gaze. His angular face was pulled into a furious grimace, his teeth bared.

  He suddenly streaked toward the flayn, and I realized a moment later why. So wrapped up was I in looking at Morgorth, my love, that I failed to notice the reason for my hakum. The black-hearted villain who took my tribe away from me flew through the air with a whirlwind underneath him. It was the first time I'd ever set eyes on him, and I knew I would never forget his face. His blond hair was bright like the sun, and his face was elegantly structured, his body epitomizing masculine beauty. But he was ugly. He couldn't compare to the beauty of the mage below him. His eyes were nasty, nothing but power-mongering in his gaze. He flung a bolt of something hot and red toward Morgorth, and the mage brought his left hand up before his face, bending it at the elbow. Something translucent formed in front of him, the sun reflecting off it, nearly blinding me. The bolt struck the magickal shield and ricocheted off, flinging back at the murderer. It struck his chest with enough force to send him crashing to the ground.

  I gasped. This was it. It had to be. I raised my bow.

&nbs
p; But before I could take a shot, Morgorth seemed to conjure water out of nothing and flung it at the villain, soaking him. Then my love froze the water, rendering the villain immobile. The murderer struggled to get lose, his head thrashing back and forth. Again I raised my bow to take aim. Then Morgorth streaked (he was so fast!) over to the murderer, and something round and bright formed in his hand.

  I panicked. No! No, he cannot kill the murderer! I must.

  I ran forward, my bow and arrow still lifted in front of me. "Morgorth!"

  He whipped that angular face toward me, and our eyes met. For a moment everything else ceased to exist, and it was only him and me. It had been too long since I last saw him. He looked the same as he did then. But his eyes were not their usual dark brown that reminded me of soft, cuddling things, at least when they had looked at me. No, they were glowing a hard amber, the way I remembered them doing when he fought with magick. I could see the power inside his eyes, the magick he controlled and conjured. My breath became short, and my insides trembled even as my hands stayed steady. His eyes captured me once again, just like all those years ago. They were so expressive and yet so shielded. Secretive.

  I suddenly desired to know all his secrets. I deserved all his secrets. I did what he had asked of me. I had trained, waited. Suffered. He owed me his love.

  By the Hunter, I had found him. All my love for him that had been buried under bitterness, grief, and rage bloomed like a flower after a harsh winter. I craved the touch of him. I wanted to touch his skin, to caress his lips with mine. I yearned to see him naked, to hold him against me, to make all those fantasies that tortured me for years into reality.

  But, said a little voice, he doesn't know who you are. He may look the same as he did then, but that moment in his future hasn't come to pass.

  My heart bled.

  Our moment of connection, of hesitation, allowed the murderer to break free from Morgorth's hold. Morgorth was flung back as the ice shattered. The villain stood. I took a breath, held it, and let my arrow loose. He dodged. It missed him. I snarled.