“Good evening, Kieran,” a familiar voice called as she entered the Stag’s Glen Tavern.
“Good evening, Mistress Love,” Kira replied with a smile. Only Master Tyrrus knew her as Kira. To everyone else, she was Kieran, a young lad of maybe twelve or thirteen summers who was Master Tyrrus’ apprentice—young enough for them not question her beardless face and higher voice for now. They’d have to frequent another area of Dromore soon, though, before the locals realized her failure to reach manhood.
Mistress Love crossed the room, licked her hand, and tried to smooth Kira's hair. “You're looking a bit messy there, lad. Master Tyrrus had you studying hard again?”
Kira wrestled herself free from the tavern keeper’s wife. “A bit. He sent me to fetch him some food.” She ran her hand through her hair to mess it up once more.
Mistress Love put her hands on her hips and sighed. “Well, you make sure you get a bit of it yourself. You're too scrawny for a growing lad.” She beckoned for Kira to follow her into the kitchen. “And I'm supposing Master Tyrrus will be wanting a bit of ale to wash it all down with, eh?”
“Perhaps a pint or two.” Or three or four. His thirst was well-known.
“Wait here, Kieran, and I'll round you up a jug of ale and some hot vittles.”
Kira sat on the stool as instructed and smiled. It always amazed her how many people saw her as a boy. Her dark hair was cut short and stuck out in various directions. She was small and slight of build—or has Mistress Love put it, “scrawny”—and any hint of a feminine curve was well concealed in clothes that were about three sizes too large. Still, she decided, people saw what they wanted to see.
“Here you go, lad.” Mistress Love reappeared carrying a sack and a brown jug. Kira exchanged the two coins for the items and turned to leave. “Now, I hid an apple tart in there for you, so make sure you get it before your Master does.” She pinched Kira's cheek. “It's you that needs the fattening up, not him.”
Her mouth watered. She had almost forgotten what a full meal tasted like, much less an apple tart. “Thank you, Mistress Love.”
“Be off with you now. It's getting dark, and a boy your age can find himself all kinds of trouble on the streets if you're out too late.” She tried to wipe a smudge off her cheek with her apron. Kira ducked out of the way and rushed out of the tavern. She knew Mistress Love meant well, but she could stand only so much mothering in one day.
The sun cast long shadows on the street when she reached the loose flagstone. A feeling of unease slithered over her as she knelt to lift it. She searched the alley for an unfamiliar shadow or an unexpected sound, but discovered none. Perhaps her mind was playing tricks on her. Master Tyrrus’ tales of being chased by the Azekborn kept her on edge. She lowered the food and the ale and pulled the flagstone over her head as she descended, happy to return the solace of her tunnels.
Master Tyrrus removed the cork and drank nearly a quarter of the jug of cold ale before touching his food. Kira was able to conceal the apple tart from him at first but then gave him half of it when her belly could hold no more. With a full stomach, she drifted off to sleep without difficulty, watching Master Tyrrus cast a protective spell around the door as her eyes closed.
Her dreams that night terrified her. Black figures hunted her every move. She could feel them creeping up, their breath hot on the back of her neck, but when she turned around, she saw the last of their shadows melt into the darkness. She ran through in the tunnels, trying to throw them off course, but they gained on her. She looked behind her once more, and the figure stood inches in front of her.
She could clearly see it now. Black skin stretched over a bony face. Sunken eyes glowed with a bright red intensity as she had never seen before. She saw only malice in them. The figure smiled, revealing two rows of yellowed teeth filed to sharp points. She tried to scream, but she could barely take a breath. She was looking into the face of an Azekborn. Her vision filled with a flash of red light, and her scream finally escaped.
Master Tyrrus fell out of his chair. “Kira, what is it?”
Another flash of red light appeared from the other side of the door, but his protective spells still held. “The Azekborn!”
“By the Goddess, they found us! Quickly, my child, the gate!”
Kira scrambled to her feet and fumbled for the pink crystal in the pouch around her neck. The incantation for the spell flew from her lips. As soon as the blue light filled the gate, Master Tyrrus shoved her through it with their cloaks in his hands. She heard the door splintering behind them as they crossed the archway into the barren landscape on the other side.
“Wait!” Kira turned back and reached through the gate. If it was left active, the Azekborn could follow them. Three figures entered the room as her fingers closed around the crystal.
“Come back here now, Kira!” With unexpected strength from a man of his portly stature, he tugged her back through the gate. The blue light faded as she passed through, and they both fell to the ground, panting.
“What were you thinking, going back through the gate like that?” His chubby face, once pale, turned red.
She showed him the crystal in her hand. “I had to close the gate.”
“That was a foolish thing to do, Kira! How many times have I told you not to be so reckless with magic! You could have been trapped in another realm of existence, or worse, severed in half between here and there. Besides, we could’ve closed the gate on this side.” He snatched the pink crystal from the stone arch in front of them to prove his point.
“Oh.” Kira avoided his gaze. He was right—she hadn’t thought about the crystal on this side. “But still, now we have a matching set, and we can build new gates if we need to.”
“Don't try and change the subject. You still have much to learn. There's a reason why I've earned a Master's cloak,” he said and gestured to his dark blue robe, “and you haven't.”
“Well if you wouldn't keep so many secrets from me, maybe I wouldn't be so reckless!”
A flash of blue magic from his fingers shot past her, reducing the stone arch into a pile of rubble. He sank onto one of the large rocks and rubbed his eyes. “Very well, Kira, I suppose I owe you a bit of an explanation.”
She knelt at his feet. “I think I deserve to know the whole truth, Master Tyrrus.”
He stared at her as if seeing her as an adult for the first time.”As you wish. Are you familiar with the Clearances?” She nodded. “Curse King Anilayus and his arrogant plan to cleanse the Kingdom of the other races. He’d rather annihilate his enemies and claim their lands than negotiate any more treaties with them. Tell me, child, have you ever seen an elf? No—because most of them fled the Kingdom before you were born. But I remember them clearly. In fact, some of the magic I've learned came from an elvan Master.”
He paused to catch his breath. “For the last decade, I've been doing all I can to aid the other races. At first, I helped them to safety, to the lands west of the Kingdom's borders. Lately, I've been acting as a spy for the Resistance and helping others like me.”
“Why are you trying to overthrow the King?”
“Is that what you think I’m trying to do, you silly girl?” He rubbed his brow. “I want all the races to live in peace together, but Anilayus seems opposed to that idea. Either we defeat the King, or we form a new kingdom of our own. That's what the Resistance has been doing—trying to make sure people aren’t killed because of their race.”
“So why not form a new kingdom? There has to be good land to the west of here.”
“It's not that simple. The Resistance is trying to form a new government, but Anilayus won't stand for it. He sees it as a threat to his kingdom and, as such, is preparing accordingly. Even now, he's gathering a massive army of soldiers and mages with the goal of wiping out the Resistance. We think he'll attack as soon as the snow melts.”
“So is that why the Azekborn were following you? Because you're helping the Resistance?”
He hesitated. “It's a
bit more complicated than that.”
“Master Tyrrus—”
“Calm down, Kira, I'll tell you. Those two men we helped today—they were what remained of a party of five men that came to Dromore to recover a certain magical artifact. An artifact that was in the possession of the King until this morning. This object is sacred to the elves and may prove useful to the Resistance.”
“You mean to tell me that those two men stole something from the King, and you led them to our home?”
“I had to get them out of Dromore as quickly as possible. I had no idea they’d been successful in recovering it until I realized the Azekborn were after us. By that time, I had already promised to help them. I am a man of my word, after all.”
“I know, I know.” His honor had gotten them into a fine mess now. Kira pulled herself up and looked around. The rising sun illuminated the rolling brown hills with half-melted patches of grey snow nestled in the crevices. The barren landscape stretched out around them. “Where are we anyway?”
“On the western border of the Kingdom.” He stood and brushed the dust off his robes before draping his Master's cloak over his shoulders. “I suppose we should start moving.”
“Where are we going?”
He pointed to the northwest where the stars still glittered in the sky. “This way for about two days. We should hopefully meet up with the Resistance camp by then. I'm sure Galen would like to know that the Azekborn discovered the gate. If they found it, there’s a very good chance the King also discovered the location of the camp.”
Kira followed after him. “Who's Galen?”
“Patience, my child. You'll meet him soon enough. That is,” he added, holding her gaze, “if you want to come along. As you keep reminding me, you're not a child anymore. You're free to go wherever you want.”
Kira chewed her bottom lip. If she followed him, she would be joining the Resistance, and hence, would become a target of the Azekborn. She tried to force the image of the glowing red eyes from her mind. On the other hand, she’d never been alone before. As much as she longed to prove herself the equal of any Master Mage in the kingdom, she wasn’t brave enough to do it on her own.
“Wait!” She jogged after him, shortening her stride to match his waddling gait when she reached him. “I'll come along. After all, you need someone to fetch your beer for you.”
He grinned. “Thank you, my child. You will be a great comfort to me in these trying times. Two days without beer—whatever shall I do?”
CHAPTER 4
Gregor took off his spotless glasses and cleaned them again. For a moment, he envied Duke, who gnawed away on a bone in front of the fire. He was so close to deciphering the scroll, but some of the Elvish words didn’t make sense to him. If he could translate them correctly, he could unlock the secrets of imbuing an object with a permanent spell. Then, armed with that information, he maybe could prove to Anilayus there was still much to learn from the other races.
He needed sleep. He had been up all night working on this. But when he did sleep, he felt as if someone was spying on him. At first, it was a little disconcerting, but over the last few weeks, it grew comforting in an odd sort of way. Like someone was watching over him in a protective way. But who?
His thoughts turned to the strange animal-woman. He unfolded the piece of parchment and traced the sketch he’d made of her face. Never had a woman captivated him the way she did. Since she disappeared a month ago, he hadn’t seen any trace of her.
He leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. He needed to forget about her and focus on his work. She was only interesting because she was a unique creature, a shape-shifter, and he wanted to study her further. A learning opportunity, and nothing more.
When he woke, the sun had moved to the other side of the sky. A cold wind bathed his face from the open window. And as his vision came into focus, he realized he wasn’t alone.
She stood and watched him from across his desk. He stared in disbelief, but then averted his gaze when he saw she was unclothed.
“This is no time for modesty, Gregor Meritis.” Her voice was stronger than he had imagined.
“You can talk?”
“Yes, I can talk, and you need to shut up and listen.” She rounded the desk and stood over his chair. “Do you know what the Azekborn are?”
He shivered. “Yes, I've heard of them, although I've never seen them.”
“There are three of them coming this way. They'll be here in less than an hour.”
He jumped to his feet. “Why are they coming here?”
“Because you helped me.”
“But—but—”
“Quit your babbling! You saved my life, and in return I'll save yours. Get out while you can. Run. Hide. Don't let them find a way to follow you. I’ll do my best to slow them down.” She spun around and crossed the room, ignoring Duke.
“Wait, I—”
She glared at him, annoyed by the interruption.
“I just want to know your name, please. That is, if you have one.”
Her eyes narrowed. “I am known as Ranealya.” Then she jumped from the window.
“No!” He rushed to the window and looked down. Below was the largest wolf he had ever seen. Its golden eyes met his in an instant of recognition, and then it howled. Another wolf answered its call in the distance, and it waited as the wind rippled its gray coat. Despite its size, he wasn’t afraid of it. A few minutes later, a pack of a dozen or more wolves joined the large gray one. Gregor focused on their thoughts and learned the others saw it as a pack leader, but knew the large wolf would not stay long. For now she needed their help. Together, they disappeared into the woods, hunting for something she wanted them to find.
Gregor reached for his cloak and ran for the door. Just as the will of the pack had molded to hers, so had his mind once he touched theirs. He needed to follow her, to help her like the other members of the pack, even if it meant being caught by the Azekborn.
The wolves left them an easy trail to follow in the fresh snow. “Come on, Duke,” he called as he ran into the woods.
He followed the trail for over an hour. The wolves moved faster than he had anticipated, and he leaned against a tree to catch his breath. He had to be close. The trail continued on in the direction of the canyon. They couldn’t be much further ahead.
Duke gazed in the direction of the tracks, and his ears perked up. “Duke hear wolves.”
“Where?”
“Close.” He raced ahead, and Gregor stumbled after him. A few minutes later, he could hear them, too—their growls, their whimpers, their snarls. Duke waited at the edge of the forest, watching the attack. Gregor joined him and hid behind a bush. His eyes took in the horror of the scene before him.
Blood soaked the snow. Four wolves lay dead on the ground, but six others were attacking along with the gray she-wolf. They circled a black figure, trying to catch him off guard. He was wounded, but his black stone sword sliced through the air with amazing speed, and Gregor now understood why they were so feared.
The wolves kept their distance, yet they continued to push him closer to the edge of the canyon. The Azekborn realized this, and he stopped his sword long enough to cast a spell. A flash of red erupted from his palm, and two more wolves lay dead. Then the red eyes of the Azekborn focused on him.
The she-wolf seized the opportunity to attack. She leapt, her enormous jaws clamping around his throat. With his last breath, the Azekborn plunged his sword into her hip. She howled in pain and released him, allowing the other wolves to rip his body to shreds and shove it over the canyon’s edge.
They stood at the edge and looked down. Gregor could hear the pride in their thoughts. They had defeated the enemy and were now free from the service of the she-wolf.
Gregor crept closer, reassuring the wolves that he meant no harm. Mangled black forms littered the canyon floor. His stomach heaved, and he gulped the cold air as he tried to erase the images from his mind.
He scanned the clearin
g for the gray she-wolf, the one he was certain was Ranealya. She had vanished. “Where did she go?”
Duke sniffed the ground and followed a trail of blood that disappeared into the trees. “Deer-not-deer go this way!”
As they moved deeper into the woods, Gregor’s heart pounded from the amount of blood staining the snow. His steps quickened. He paused long enough to grab some hykona leaves from a nearby bush. She’d probably need them when they found her.
Duke began licking her face when he discovered her. “Deer-not-deer hurt bad.”
She moaned and batted the dog away. She was in her human-like form again. A large gash tore down the side of her right thigh, and he noticed two smaller ones on her chest. Unlike when he saw the remains of the Azekborn in the canyon, he felt no nausea from her wounds. He knelt beside her and he stuffed the wounds with the hykona leaves.
She grabbed his arm, her grip barely leaving an indention in his flesh. “Don't,” she whispered. “Please just leave me here, Gregor. I don’t need your help.” She released him and closed her eyes.
He pulled away, uncertain what to do. Part of him wanted to respect her wishes, especially when he saw how much blood she lost. But he couldn’t ignore the feeling that there was some reason their paths had crossed, and if he let her die now, he would never know why.
Duke nudged his hand and barked before disappearing in the direction they had come, leaving Gregor paralyzed in his indecision. He returned with a branch of the hykona leaves in his mouth and dropped it by the wounded woman.
The leaves stuffed into her wounds minutes ago were already black from the poison. He cleaned them out and called on more healing magics before he stuffed fresh leaves into the wounds. Her breathing became shallow, but she didn’t open her eyes or try to stop him. More importantly, though, the bleeding had stopped. Maybe there was still a chance she would pull through this.
“Keep an eye on her, Duke. I'll figure out a way to get her home.” He surveyed the trees in the dying light, finding some fir branches that had fallen from the weight of the winter snow. He fashioned a sled from them and harnessed it to Duke with his belt. He placed her on it, taking a moment to listen for her heartbeat as he pressed his ear to her chest. It was faint, but her heart still fluttered.
The Tears of Elios Page 3