“Your madness can take you no further than this cell. The Druid will survive—she is with one who knows an antidote to your pet’s venom. And she will rise to end your master’s darkness once and for all.”
“That will never be—He will destroy—“
He tightened his grip on her neck, causing her to start choking. “If I must take Fate into my own hands to ensure her survival, then so be it. I will help ensure the prophecy is fulfilled.”
He heard running footsteps in the hall outside; his time had just run out. As much as he wanted to kill the woman, it was not his place to take such action upon himself. He released her, and she slid to the ground with the maddened expression still on her face. “Be warned,” he said, “if you try to bring her harm again, I will kill you myself.” Without waiting to hear a response he stepped back into the shadows just as the cell door was thrown open. He was gone before anyone else could suspect he had been there.
IX
Calla
Calla winced and tried to pull away as Mai slowly stitched the wound closed again; the Nymph simply grabbed her by the shoulder and pulled her back. “Stop moving,” she said. “You are not making this any easier.”
“Sorry.” Calla looked away, trying not to stare at the sliced flesh Mai was trying to put back together.
“You are quite lucky, you know. That young wyvern’s tail didn’t hit any veins; if it had, the venom could have spread through your system even faster. It would have been even worse if it had bitten you instead. Wyverns, like some venomous snakes, have no control over the amount of venom they inject into a victim until they reach adulthood.”
“At least you happened to have the antidote for it.”
“And as deep as that knife went, it could have done even more damage—your reaction kept it from cutting through the bone.” Mai bent over and cut the thread with her teeth an inch away from the skin. “I just cannot believe those fools tending to you did not even think of closing such a hole.”
“You didn’t either before now.”
“We were in a bit of a rush; I did not have the time to take a closer look at it right then and there. Besides, it went too deep for me to close it up with needle and thread. I had to use a significant amount of my power to try repairing the deeper muscle first before I could stitch the skin back together, and that kind of magic still takes some time.”
The two girls sat among the twisted roots of a massive oak, on their own deep in the Canu Forest. Thinking back Calla probably should have told someone—her father, or even her sisters—that she was leaving, but what could she have said to explain her reason why? No one within her family or outside it knew about her meeting with Mai, nor about what really happened between her and her stepmother that day. If she tried to tell them about what really happened they wouldn’t believe her; her attempts to explain would have raised far too many questions that she wouldn’t be able to answer.
She still didn’t have a clear idea of what happened herself.
It was too late for Calla to go back now—she had stepped in too far. She couldn’t deny that the shadows of myth were real, for she had seen some of them with her own eyes no matter how much she wished she hadn’t. She was scared of what might be coming after her. She could still see the unnatural red light of her stepmother’s eyes whenever she let her mind wander; somehow she didn’t think a prison would be able to hold the woman at bay for long. She could only hope that the spells Mai had supposedly been casting during the past week to cover their tracks would be enough to deter anyone that might follow them.
Mai rummaged through her bag and pulled out several bottles, setting them down on the ground in front of her. Each was filled with some kind of liquid and she examined each one carefully for some time. After a while she selected one small bottle and removed the cork, pouring some of the contents into her hand and carefully rubbed it along her line of stitching. “The good news,” she said, “is that these wounds will not kill you.”
“That’s always a good thing,” Calla replied.
“The bad news is that you will have some unattractive scars.”
“I’m not so worried about that. I mean, seriously, who’s going to look at only my arm?”
“Perhaps.” Mai replaced the cork on the bottle and placed it along with the others back in her bag. She held a few strips of cloth in her hand when she pulled it back out and started wrapping them around Calla’s arm, taking care not to wrap them too tightly or cause the girl any pain as she knotted the ends in place.
Calla sat and stared at the Nymph’s work, lost in thought. “So where are we going?” she asked. “I don’t think you were quite clear on that part.”
“To the mountain where my Lady keeps her throne.” Mai didn’t look up as she repacked her bag. “We will be all right once we get there, but the journey itself will not be easy.”
She moved back a little to open more space between them and waved her hand through the air over the dirt. At once the ground started to shift, some patches of dirt rising while others fell; whole sections took on different textures and shapes, until it all stopped and Calla could see the space had been turned into a large map. She leaned over to get a better look.
“We are here,” said Mai, pointing to a small clump of trees in the corner on her side. “Our destination is over here.” She pointed to a spot far on the other side of the map, a tall mountain of dirt with some kind of blocky structure at its base. “With luck and the best route that is the least dangerous—which will lead us southeast for a while—we should reach our destination within a few weeks to a month.”
Calla’s eyes went wide. “A few weeks to a month?!”
Mai looked up at her with a raised eyebrow. “What? Did you think the world was incredibly small?”
“No! But I mean—how far away is it, really?”
“At least a few thousand miles, I am afraid; having never come to this part of the world before, so I cannot give you an accurate estimate of the distance. If I could I would try to use my Flashwalk trick, and so both of us could cover the distance in shorter time; but it takes too much energy for one person to travel that way, never mind two.”
“Terrific.” Calla slumped forward.
“Do not waste your energy on being miserable. It is bad enough we risk danger during part of this journey, since we will pass quite close to the borders of the Dead Lands; our road will take us through the Plains of Kaltin, which lie right next to that dark place.” Mai gestured to a patch of dirt on Calla’s side of the map; it was sunken lower than the rest of the depicted lands, and had taken a darker color.
“Who or what lives there?” asked Calla.
“Its name should give you that answer. Nothing friendly to us dwells there. It is the homeland of the ones who threaten us. We must be careful to avoid any encounters with the inhabitants of that place, else we will have brought about our own doom.” Mai waved her hand over the map, and it returned once more to being dirt on the forest floor. “That place is the home of all dark monsters. No one knows exactly why all evil is drawn there.”
“So why does your Lady want me?”
“I am afraid I cannot tell you more—only She can; it is not my place to discuss that subject, even if I did know all the details.”
“That’s not very helpful.”
Mai smiled. “I wish I could be more helpful to you.”
“I guess I understand.”
They sat in silence for a while. Calla sat against the tree looking out at the surrounding woods, while Mai sprawled on her back staring up at the canopy. A hush settled over the woods around them.
As the sunlight shining through the canopy started to fade Mai sat up and pulled a small lantern out of her bag; after flicking her finger into its side it started to glow with a pale green light as she set it on the ground. The loud groan the Nymph made left Calla with the sense that not everything had gone the way she had hoped so far. She decided it would probably be best if the subject was changed from t
heir previous conversation.
“So,” she began, a little hesitantly. “What is the difference between Nymphs and…you know, the rest of us?”
Mai tilted her head to look at Calla, though from her position she was probably looking at her upside-down. She lifted one eyebrow in amusement. “You mean to say that you cannot tell just by looking at me?” she asked.
“If it weren’t for the green hair, I’d think you were another person.”
“Ah, that.” Mai stacked her hands on top of each other to cushion the back of her head. “That kind of explanation is beyond complicated; for us to describe ourselves is difficult to put into words. But maybe I could try to give you a general idea of us.”
She rolled over to face Calla properly and propped herself up on her elbows. “As you have undoubtedly guessed I am not quite an earthly creature, at least not by your definition of ‘earthly.’ By our definition, we are beings directly from the earth itself as opposed to being born from another creature, given form and life from the Lady. We are her servants, and all of us have special gifts of various kinds that we use throughout our labors, depending on which element we are linked to. That is where the differences between each of us begin to appear: where we live and our individual personalities are the primary factors.”
“And that’s where it gets complicated?” It was a rather odd explanation, but as brief as it was Calla thought it seemed to make a little sense.
“Indeed. Another thing all of us have in common is our shape-shifting abilities.”
“Shape-shifting?”
“You really thought this was my true form?” Mai raised her eyebrows in surprise. “Your elders definitely do not tell the young people any of the old stories anymore, not as they should have been. But yes, what you are seeing is an assumed form only. You will not be able to see my real form until we reach the kingdom of Malcallai—we are supposed to keep this shape whenever we venture so far from our homeland.”
“I find that hard to imagine.”
“Do you really think my hair is supposed to be green? We are supposed to be able to blend in with whatever society we are visiting and not stand out in any way. The Druids were not the only ones who could see us—there are occasionally others who, though not quite as gifted as them, are still able to see us around them. These days we would really prefer to remain unnoticed unless we are supposed to let ourselves be seen, like with my finding you.”
“So how come you don’t…blend in?”
“I have not fully mastered this art yet—you see, it is magic of a higher level that I am capable of, one requiring at least two-hundred years of practice.”
Calla stared at her before she spoke again. “Two hundred…Mai, how old are you?”
The Nymph blushed with embarrassment—instead of flushing red like normal people, Mai’s cheeks took on a green hue, a shade slightly darker than her hair. “One-hundred sixteen,” she said after a moment.
Calla felt her jaw drop.
“I know what you are thinking: how can I be so much older than you and yet not have mastered such an art? The truth is I am still quite young by the standards of my people; we age very slowly. I am actually not allowed to start learning specific spells until I reach a certain age. I have only been working on my shape-shifting ability for a few months.”
“That short a time?” Calla was genuinely impressed. “Apart from your hair, you’re doing really well at it.”
“Thank you. Really.”
An owl hooted from somewhere above them. Calla craned her neck up, curious to see if she could locate the bird. Some of the branches rustled with movement but she couldn’t find him. She could, however, hear him—and what he was saying.
“Mai, is he…singing?”
Mai looked up as well. She made a face. “I think he is attempting to, at least. It sounds more like he is shouting random sentences.”
Calla grimaced as broken notes hit her ears.
My love, where are you?
I am here, waiting for you!
Come find me now!
“If he’s trying to impress a female like that, she’ll be as thrilled about it as I am,” said Calla. “That’s just terrible.”
“That bird is young,” said Mai. “He will figure things out in time.”
Both girls were tired but couldn’t fall asleep thanks to the owl’s torturous attempt at poetry. They lay against the ground trying to ignore the notes hitting their ears for hours. Somewhere around midnight he finally stopped—the branches overhead rustled as he took off into the night. With peace restored, the girls bade each other good night and finally curled up on the ground to sleep.
The world she saw was dark, so much so she thought it was late at night, and someone had forgotten to bring a light. As she stood, the air around her seemed to swirl, and she realized it wasn’t night she was looking at—it was clouds of smoke billowing up in front of her. She backed up quickly, not wanting to be too close to whatever was burning. Flames leaped out towards her as she moved away, as though trying to grab her. When she got clear of them, she saw they were devouring a large, once-beautiful looking building.
She looked around her—everywhere fires raged, eating at the buildings while the stone just collapsed in piles. She took off running down the road, going around the large heaps of stone and leaping over the occasional patch of fire in her way. There was something heavy in her hand—she was holding a large broadsword, using both hands to keep from dropping it. She kept running, looking around as she went for something.
She finally reached what had once been the city common. Even here it was almost completely unrecognizable. What had once been a large stone fountain was now various piles of rubble scattered along the ground, trees and shrubs were ablaze, and the surrounding buildings were destroyed down to their foundations. She stopped and stared at the destruction around her.
“How could this have happened?” she asked herself.
Over the noise of the crackling fires she heard a small whimper. She stared wildly around, trying to figure out where it was. Her eyes came to rest on one building in particular: an entire section of wall and part of the roof were missing, like something large had been hurled with tremendous through it. The sound seemed to be coming from there. She ran over and peered around what was left of the wall.
Crouched among the rubble was a young child.
He couldn’t have been older than ten years old. His skin was slightly tanned, making his white hair seem even brighter. His clothes were torn, he had several bleeding cuts, and he was covered with dust and soot. He had heard her coming, and was in the process of backing away deeper into the wreckage when she rounded the corner. As soon as he saw her though, the fearful expression on his face gave way to one of relief mixed with joy. He ran towards her, throwing his arms around her neck when she knelt down to hold him. They embraced each other for several moments until she pushed him back, leaving her hands on his shoulders.
“Did they hurt you?” she asked.
The boy shook his head. “They did see me,” he said. “But I was able to get away and hide here. Is it over, entha?”
She was about to reassure him when her scalp prickled, and a shiver repeatedly went up and down her spine. She turned back to look at the street—the air had become uneasily still, but the scent of death and decay seemed to seek her out over the flying ash and smoke.
Her heart immediately raced as fear took hold of her. She knew that scent, and it could mean only one thing—He was here.
The boy was holding her hand and looking at her with questioning eyes. “Entha?”
She snatched up her sword from where she had dropped it, then took his face in her other hand. “Dearest, not yet,” she said.
“Why? What happens now?”
She tried to keep her nerves steady and her fear at bay as she spoke. “There is one more fight to be had, one that you cannot be near. I need you to give me one favor: I need you to run, as far away as you can, as fast as you can. I
will join you after.”
Tears were sliding down the sides of the boy’s face. “No,” he said. “I do not want to leave, entha! I do not want to lose you!”
She pulled him to her in a tighter embrace, feeling how warm he was, smelling the earthy scent that always seemed to cling to him. “Hiran, my child, you will not.” She tried to keep her voice from cracking. “This will be the last fight, and after that we will be able to find some other place to call our home. But I need you to do this for me first. Do you understand me?”
She felt the boy’s head nod up and down against her chest. “But I—“
“No ‘buts.’” She pushed him away and stood up. “Now go.”
“Entha—“
“Just go Hiran!” She could feel the tears welling up in her eyes. “Now, before it is too late.” She turned to face the road. For some time she heard nothing, until at last she heard the boy’s feet against the pavement as he ran away from where she stood.
She turned to look back at him once more. He had stopped at the far end of the alley between buildings, looking back at her. There was no fooling him—he knew this was the end.
“Go,” she whispered.
Whether he heard her or not, he didn’t acknowledge it. He turned and fled.
—How touching.—
She felt her blood suddenly turn to ice as a cold dread crept through her mind. This sense of fear at so strong a level could only be generated by one being. She turned back to the street and brought her sword up in front of her.
Bralon had joined the fray.
Everything about him screamed death—his shadowy form, his ash-colored flesh, his black eyes that never reflected the light. Everywhere he went he spread death and despair to everyone he passed.
She gripped the hilt even tighter with both hands, trying to ignore her pounding heart. “You have no victory here,” she said, her voice shaking.
—You are like the other pests, never knowing when to quit.—
The Last Druid Page 5