The Tears of Elios

by Crista McHugh

  Jaius lay still, relieved to be able to breathe without tasting blood. He savored the experience of the air moving in and out of his lungs. “I am indebted to you, Arlisle.”

  The Highmounter laughed. “I'll remember that.” He shook his head, splattering the water from his hair like a wet dog. “So, what do you think we should call these new mountains?”

  ***

  Gregor gathered his strength and prepared to teleport. He’d never successfully done it before, but Thoranus had taught him the principles. It was the only way to cross the chasm and get to Ranelya. He pictured himself by her side and felt his body began to disappear. An odd weightless feeling followed, ending with a tugging heaviness in this body as he reappeared next to her.

  He gathered her in his arms. Her wounds were already healing, and he stroked her face. She was in her elvan form, almost too beautiful to be real. He bent down to shield her from some of the falling debris, kissing her lips in the process.

  When her eyes fluttered open, they were a calm gold. “Am I dead?” she whispered.

  “Not yet,” he replied, helping her to her feet, “although if we don't get away from here, we may end up that way.”

  Boulders toppled around them, and the ground rolled like waves in the sea. He held her close to him, steadying her as they inched closer to a safer location. The mountains continued to climb around them, their pinnacles concealed by the clouds. The casters’ circle had disappeared below them. He wondered if it had been crushed by the rocks, but another lurch in the ground told him the ritual was still working.

  He turned to Ranealya and grew worried. Her eyes were clouded as if she had been drugged. He hoped it was only due to blow to her head.

  Then her body stiffened, followed by a gasp. Her gaze lowered, and when he followed it down, he saw a metal point sticking out of her gut.

  All the air was pulled from his lungs, and the world felt like it was moving in slow motion. The sword was withdrawn. He fell to one knee under her weight, calling out her name. Then he looked up and saw Anilayus towering over them, his blade dripping with fresh blood.

  “So I was right,” he sneered. “She was a shape-shifter.”

  Gregor reached down to try and heal her, but he ended up dodging the razor edge of his cousin’s sword instead. The next swing of the sword sent him on the retreat, pushing him away from Ranealya.

  “I cannot believe a member of my family would betray me,” Anilayus continued, slicing the air with every other word. “But then, this isn't the first time you’ve defied me.” He paused as his lips curled into a menacing grin. “There will be no mercy now.”

  As he was forced further and further away from Ranealya, Gregor watched the blood pooling around her body. He channeled his anger into his magic and felt the intense power waiting at his fingertips. “You're going to regret the day you hurt her.”

  He unleashed the magic and began casting with a speed that surprised him, but Anilayus was quicker. The King managed to dodge or block Gregor's spells, all the while chasing him with the sword. At last, Gregor managed to get a spell past his defenses, and the blade skidded to the edge of the cliff.

  With his weapon gone, Anilayus began casting, too. The two men became locked in battle with blue and red lightning bolts electrifying the air between them. When Gregor witnessed him “blink” like a demon, he finally understood the lengths Anilayus would go to gain power. His gut rolled, and revulsion pulsed through him.

  A blast of red struck Gregor, pinning him to the ground. He tried to move his arms, but each twitch of his muscles sent agonizing waves of pain through his body.

  Anilayus retrieved his weapon and sauntered to him. His boots crunched over the gravel and stopped inches from his ears. “I'm going to enjoy killing you even more than I did your little shape-shifter, cousin.”

  Gregor prepared for the death blow, but he saw a flash of movement out of the corner of his eye.

  Ranealya rammed into Anilayus, knocking the sword from his hands and sending it down into the chasm below. They rolled to the cliff's edge and disappeared over the rim.

  The spell released Gregor, and he hurried after them. They dangled on the side of the cliff with Anilayus slightly below Ranealya, both grasping onto rocks.

  A jagged gash on his temple bled into the King’s eyes, but that didn’t prevent him from reaching for her feet to pull her down.

  She tried to kick him away, a river of blood still flowing from her wound. She looked up at him. “Gregor!” she called out as she reached out for him with one hand.

  The rocks crumbled under her other hand, and she whimpered. The valley bottom was no longer visible from this height. The impact from the fall would be fatal.

  Anilayus caught her ankle and yanked hard. She screamed, but Gregor managed to grab hold of her hand before she slid further. The King's eyes widened when he realized his grip wouldn’t hold. Then he looked up at them and grinned. As the last pebbles fell through his fingers, he wrapped both arms around her legs.

  The increased weight pulled Gregor closer to the cliff's edge. “I can't hold you both,” he grunted as he reached out with his other hand.

  Her fingers starting slipping away from his, and panic filled in her eyes.

  The earth rumbled once more, and the cliff collapsed underneath him. All three of them plummeted into the chasm. As they fell, Gregor cast one more spell against Anilayus. The King screamed as he slammed into the mountainside. His head hung at an awkward angle afterwards, and his body flopped like a silent rag doll.

  Gregor clung to Ranealya’s hand. We’re not going to die this way. He gathered his strength and pictured them safe together. His body grew lighter, followed by a flash of blue. He landed on the ground with a gentle thump. Ranealya fell on top of him and rolled down the hill.

  “Ranealya, are you all right?” He crawled over to her and cradled her in his arms. “I'm so sorry I let him hurt you.”

  “It's not your fault,” she replied, her voice barely above a whisper. Her eyes glazed over, and her breathing became erratic.

  He placed his hand over her wound. Warm blood oozed over his fingers. Why hadn’t she healed herself by now? He wasn’t strong enough to heal her after the two teleportations and his battle with Anilayus. To do so would overextend his skills and drain his life force. He pulled her closer to him. “Hold on, Ranealya. You can heal yourself. Focus!”

  To the west, the mountains continued to rise, stretching out as far as the eye could see from north to south. The new barrier divided them from Elgeus. “Look, Ranealya! The ritual worked.”

  She looked up at him and smiled. “I’m glad I’m with you.” Then she closed her eyes again. Her expression became eerily calm just before her body went limp in his arms.

  “No!” Gregor shook her, desperate to wake her. She can’t be dead. Not after all we’ve been through. What kind of cruel goddess would take her life after she had sacrificed so much to save him and defeat Anilayus?

  Her skin held some warmth, and her pulse throbbed faintly under his fingers. He remembered his promise to her. He wouldn’t let her die.

  Using the last of his strength, he focused on healing her wound. His own body grew heavy as his life flowed out with the magic. He sensed he was falling, and his vision faded. The last thing he remembered was hearing her heartbeat grow stronger.

  He woke in a field hours later as a golden light waned, revealing the stars overhead. Ranealya was whispering something over and over again in Elvish while she held him close to her and rocked him in her arms. His head was pressed against her chest, and he could hear her heartbeat. He felt strange, as if he were himself, but with some other force residing inside him. A tear splattered on his face, and he said her name.

  The sound of his voice startled her, and she stared at him in amazement. “It worked!” she exclaimed and showered him with kisses. “By the Goddess, it worked!”

  CHAPTER 28

  Six months later

  Gregor leaned back in his chai
r and crossed his arms as he listened to the men and women around him. He wanted to hear each side of the debate and gauge everyone's reaction before he made his decision.

  Jaius pushed the hardest to establish a new city to the north that would be dedicated to religion and education. He believed these things should be free from the influence of the Council. He also argued that they should establish a school of magic open to all the races so they could learn from each other there.

  Arlisle, however, thought that a large central city would make more sense. That way, people could tend to their governmental issues and worship in the temples during the same trip.

  Paleah hesitated to support the building of any new cities. In the short time he had known her, Gregor had learned that she preferred the solitude of nature rather than the crowds of the city. She called herself a “Ranger”. She looked in his direction and rolled her eyes. She seemed to be the only person besides him that wanted the discussions to end so they could leave.

  His gaze traveled last to Elisus, who remained quiet in the shadows. Even though the hood of the High Elf’s cloak was pulled low to hide his scars and missing eye, Gregor could see him glaring in his direction. He hadn’t forgotten Ranealya's attack. Somehow, he had managed to hide his treachery from everyone else, saying that Ranealya attacked him so Kira could usurp his place in the ritual.

  When asked his opinion on the subject, Elisus replied, “You know my opinion on these matters, Jaius.”

  “Regardless of where we build our school of magic, we need to recruit Masters to teach the children.” Jaius turned to Gregor. “Would you be willing to teach?”

  “In addition to my duties to the Council?” Jaius nodded, and Gregor stroked his chin. On one hand, he would love to teach and perhaps even learn from the other Masters. On the other hand, it would mean more time away from home. “I'll think about it,” he replied at last. “I need to ask my wife first.”

  Arlisle grinned and winked in understanding.

  The last six months had been both stressful and exhilarating for Gregor. The ritual had exceeded their expectations, forming a towering range of mountains that served as a barrier between Elgeus and this new land named Oudesta. The casters, however, hadn’t been seen since that day. Some argued that they had died casting the ritual. Others remained hopeful that they were hiding deep in the mountains, guarding the land from any unwanted invaders.

  The survivors from the camp gathered around the other gate to the west and built a new city called Tiveraugh. Each race elected members to send to the governing Council. There were seven numbers of the Council in honor of the seven casters of the ritual, with each race represented by at least one council member. Gregor was shocked to be elected as one of the human representatives, but honored, nonetheless.

  “It appears we've exhausted the subject for now,” Jaius said. “I ask that over the winter, you find out how your groups feel on the matter of the new city so that when the Council meets again, we can reach a consensus.” His eyes traveled to each member of the Council. “If no one else has anything else to add, this meeting is adjourned.”

  They all stood and one by one filed out of the room. Paleah dashed out first, moving faster than any human could. Elisus silently sulked away, teleporting as soon as he was past the protective barriers of the hall. Arlisle paused by Gregor and slapped him on the shoulder. “Tell the missus hello for me.”

  “I will,” Gregor promised. He watched the Highmounter leave and realized he and Jaius were the only two left in the hall.

  Jaius approached him and looked him straight in the eye. He had filled Galen’s shoes as leader of the Council and had done well so far, in Gregor's opinion. “There are certain rituals that are frowned upon,” he began.

  Gregor leaned back on the table. The elf's stare unnerved him, and he didn’t want to imply he had done anything wrong. “Such as?”

  “The Judahrae is when an elf grants his or her gift of immortality to another, usually a non-elf. This ritual is reserved as a last resort to save that person’s life. The elf becomes mortal and will eventually grow old and die, just like a human, but at a much slower rate. The recipient will be saved, even if they are a one breath away from death, and live an unusually long life.” He searched Gregor's face. “You wouldn't know of anyone who cast it, would you?”

  Gregor's thoughts traveled back to the day of the ritual, to the golden light that had bathed him. He realized now, after learning what Jaius told about the Judahrae, that Ranealya had used it on him. No wonder she’d warned him not to tell anyone about that night. Since then, he had noticed subtle changes in his body. The gray in his hair had receded, and the wrinkles around his eyes had disappeared. He could hear and see better than before, no longer needing his glasses. It was as if he was twenty years younger.

  He looked at Jaius and replied casually, “Why would I know anything about that?”

  Jaius didn’t appear convinced. “There are some things best left in secret, Gregor. The consequences could be harsh, especially if the High Elves knew about anyone casting the Judahrae.”

  “I'll keep that in mind.” Gregor stood and smiled. He appreciated the warning. Now he knew why Elisus was glaring at him with increased intensity today. The High Elf already had reason to harbor ill feelings toward Ranealya. This would only add to it.

  “Are you sure you don’t wish to join me and Paleah?”

  They were going back to the heart of the Great Divide, searching for the missing casters once again. “As much as I’d like to, I need to get home and make sure everything is prepared for winter.”

  “I understand.” He stared off into the distance. “I just don’t believe they’re dead. Not yet, anyway. And I’ll keep trying to find them until something proves me wrong.”

  “I wish you a safe journey.” He reached out and shook his hand.

  Jaius held on to it for a moment before releasing it. “Give my regards to Ranealya.”

  Gregor left the hall and passed through the protective barriers around it. He was rather proud that he had been able to cast a ritual to prevent anyone from teleporting in or out of the Council Hall. He closed his eyes and pictured his home, and he was instantly enveloped in blue magic.

  Teleportation is becoming easier, he noted with a grin.

  He reappeared on a hill just as the sun was setting behind the Silver Mountains. A cottage with a thatched roof stood nestled in a small valley below. It reminded him of his cottage in the woods, and pride filled him when he saw it and the surrounding buildings. His home.

  The chill in the wind seeped into his bones as he descended. Winter wasn’t far away. As he came closer to the house, the smell of warm bread and roasting meat filled his nostrils, and his stomach growled.

  He opened the door and saw an elvan woman bent over the hearth, removing a skewer of meat from the spit. A long braid hung over her shoulder like a golden rope, and her ivory skin was flushed from the heat. When she straightened , he could see her swollen belly.

  She smiled when she saw him standing in the doorway, and her golden eyes flashed in the firelight. “Just in time for dinner. I caught a plump doe this morning.”

  “Haven’t I warned you not to hunt in your condition?”

  “But it was just a little hunt. I needed to get out of the house for a few hours.” She gave him a wolfish grin, and her fangs elongated, showing him what form she took when she hunted. She licked her fingers slowly, reminding him of the all the wonderful things she could do with her mouth. “Has the Council ended?”

  “For now,” he replied as he closed the door. He crossed the room and wrapped his arms around Ranealya. After being gone for the last two months, he didn’t want to wait any longer to hold her. He kissed her slowly at first, wanting just to feel her lips next to his, but she responded with an intensity that caught him off guard. The kiss deepened, and his throbbing need for her made him forget about the skewer that almost fell from her hand.

  He ended the kiss before they both ga
ve into their lust and made love on the stones beneath them. Her dilated pupils smoldered with desire. He stroked her cheek and thanked the Goddess once again for bringing Ranealya into his life. “It’s good to be home,” he said in a voice choked with passion.

  His hand rested on her stomach, and for the first time, he felt his child stir. He marveled at the sensation.

  Her smile widened. “I’m glad to finally have you home with me.”

  Dear Reader,

  Thank you so much for reading The Tears of Elios. I hope you enjoyed it. If you did, please leave a review on Amazon, Barnes and Noble, or Goodreads.

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  —Crista

  Author Bio:

  Growing up in small town Alabama, Crista relied on story-telling as a natural way for her to pass the time and keep her two younger sisters entertained..

  She currently lives in the Audi-filled suburbs of Seattle with her husband and daughter, maintaining her alter ego of mild-mannered physician by day while she continues to pursue writing on nights and weekends.

  Just for laughs, here are some of the jobs she’s had in the past to pay the bills: barista, bartender, sommelier, stagehand, actress, morgue attendant, and autopsy assistant.

  And she’s also a recovering LARPer. (She blames it on her crazy college days)

  For the latest updates and answers to any burning questions you have, please check out her webpage, www.CristaMchugh.com

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