In The Depths Of Winter

by Bradley Mitzelfelt

  The woman didn’t answer him. She kept walking through the snow in the crag until she came to a narrow passage that appeared to have been freshly hollowed out. A large boulder was sitting beside it. She walked in and motioned for him to do the same, but he stopped.

  “I’m not going in there until you answer my question.”

  “Then stay out there and freeze,” the woman said. She shrugged her shoulders. “Loama des Modiui.”

  The boulder shifted and moved in front of the opening, leaving Dearic to stand there in stunned silence. She’d blocked him out. His questioning had just caused her to leave him standing out in the cold. What kind of woman would do that? This woman certainly could not be his mother, could she? If she were, wouldn’t she be coddling him? Probably not considering she left me before. She probably wants nothing to do with me. Too bad. I want answers.

  Motioning at the boulder, it shifted to the side and he walked into the tunnel, moving the boulder back behind him. His stone felt radiant but inside it was dark. When he thought about it, the stone began to give off light, and he moved it to where he could see the way forward. The tunnel was smooth, as if crafted over centuries, but there was still fresh shavings present on the floor and the walls; a fine, powdery crystal dust that clung to any piece of cloth that he wore as he made his way further into the tunnel, chasing after the woman who’d just shut him out in the cold.

  Light became visible the further he went down the tunnel. It wasn’t long before the ice gave way to stone, which was just as smooth as the ice. He paused for a moment and moved his stone closer to the wall, examining it closely. The stone had been carved, he could see the marks of chisels. By now they had to be under the Frost Mountains. Could this be another dwarven city? Was that how they knew she was out here? He frowned and gave the wall a pat before turning to continue down the tunnel.

  Soon he came out of the tunnel into a large chamber. It was so vast he couldn’t see the end of it. Stone columns with hexagonal bases reached up to the ceiling, many feet over head, and touched it with hexagonal tops that split off into flat arches that laced across the ceiling to the next pillar, creating a square honeycomb above him. It was easily the most impressive thing he’d ever seen.

  “Beautiful, isn’t it?”

  Her voice had called out from not far away, he thought, but he couldn’t place it in the large chamber. Sound reverberated off the walls going every direction, making it nearly impossible to trace.

  “It is the second dwarven hall I’ve seen, and equally as impressive,” Dearic admitted. “Why do you refuse to answer me?”

  “Because you already know that what I say is true, but you are refusing to accept it.”

  Frustration was starting to set in. His hands clenched and unclenched as the muscles in his arms tightened and then loosened with each long, deep breath.

  “Nothing is certain for me anymore,” he said. “Everything that I knew has been shattered in the last few months. I didn’t want to believe that I had any living blood because I didn’t want to believe that I had been abandoned for any reason other than life or death. But here I have come in search of my mother and found you, a woman claiming to be she, and you’re living in a dwarven hall, safe and sound. Why would I believe you to be my mother? Surely, if you were, you wouldn’t have abandoned me for this.”

  Silence hung in the air when he finished speaking. She was somewhere in the vicinity, but he could see nothing other than the columns. He didn’t move, but waited in the silence, feeling it as it sent shivers cascading down his spine. Even his toes tingled a little. Realizing that he was still using the stone to make light where it wasn’t needed, as light filled the large chamber, he stopped pushing his magic into it. Once more it became nothing other than a smooth piece of stone resting within his hands. To anyone else it might be nothing more than a skipping stone to throw across a lake, but for him it was his crutch.

  When he lifted his head again, she was standing before him. No longer did she wear the shroud that hid her face. A beautiful face, but maligned by scarred streaks that ran from her eyes down her cheeks to beneath her chin. They very much looked like tear lines, but how could tears cause scars?

  “I didn’t want to leave you,” she said quietly, her eyes glistening and almost closed. “But I had no other choice. It was leave you, or see you be killed. If you think living in this place, knowing you were out there and wondering what you’d grown to be, was easy, you are wrong.” Her voice broke and she lowered her head, tears falling to the stone floor below. “Many times I have wished he would succeed in killing me, but every time I am reminded of you and your father, so I have waited. Waited for you. Please- please tell me your name.”

  “Dearic Thyne is my name, but why didn’t you come find me if you wanted to know of me? Why wait for me to come in search of you?” he asked. He was starting to feel a bit awkward since she was crying, but also because he had the sudden urge, which he fought down, to comfort her. “You could have easily come back to Brivan, most likely without Gregor knowing.”

  “I couldn’t guarantee that and you’re the only hope this realm has for survival.”

  She wiped her eyes against her sleeve and looked up at him. The streaks of scars on her face were visible again, and he stared at them.

  “I got these because of you,” she said. “I used Dark Magic to make sure you were safe. The price of dark magic is distortion of the body, and mine came in the form of acidic tears. It is a painful reminder of what I have done, and a burden I must bear.”

  She claimed to have them because of him. She was making a lot of claims, though they all seemed genuine. He found it impossible to determine if she was lying to him or telling him the truth. It was somewhat infuriating. On the other hand, he found a certain thrill in the slowly dawning belief that she was who she said she was. It caused him to fidget a bit and look away from her to the distant shadows.

  “Everyone seems to think I’m the only hope of saving this realm, but I don’t know why. If I cannot defeat Gregor, how could I possible save the realm? And why call it a realm rather than a world? Everyone keeps saying that as well.”

  “It is called a realm because it is one of many realms, Dearic. How much do you know of the creation stories?”

  “Those are all myths propagated by the elves. Everyone knows that.”

  “That’s what people say about the Mists, but they are real,” she said, crooking her finger and beckoning for him to follow. “They aren’t myths, they are truths that are rejected by the religious zealots in Brivan that refuse to believe that their God could also have created magic in some realms. He is an omnipotent being, is he not?”

  Dearic had to think about it for a moment. He hadn’t been as devout in his studies as he probably should have been, but his line of work left little time for delving into the words of God. Still, she had a point. The clergy always indicated that God could see and hear everything they did and even what they thought, but also that he knew what they would do before they did it. The latter he always struggled with because why would a benevolent god allow evil like Gregor to exist? Still, the answer was there.

  “Yes, that is the belief.”

  “An omnipotent being knows all and sees all, so he could very well have harnessed magic into his creations in some realms.”

  She had started walking after beckoning him and he hadn’t immediately followed suit. Realizing she was getting further away, he hurried to catch up.

  “I suppose,” he answered her. “This isn’t really my strength, knowledge wise, though.”

  “Nor is it mine, but I do know that the creation stories are true. Everyone believes them except for those from Brivan. What they don’t see is that we weren’t spontaneously created by magic or anything else, but we were transported here from another realm. It is true that magic had a large part to play in the creation of the elves and dwarves, but not us humans. We all arrived during the same storm that began when the first seal was opened to allow Chaos in
to this realm many years ago. That storm reached through the realms and plucked our cities up to deposit them here.”

  “That seems implausible.”

  “That’s what you thought about magic until you realized you could use it, no doubt.”

  This was true. He’d never really believed magic was real, considering he’d never seen it. With it being outlawed in Brivan, there wasn’t a lot of examples of it to go around. Until he’d seen it used himself, no, he hadn’t believed that it was real.

  “I can tell by your silence that what I said is true,” she said. “Whether you believe it or not, it is the truth. There are multiple realms, each facing their own trials in the battle against Chaos. For starters, there is a realm that connects all realms. Our magic allows us to use it to travel between places in this realm. I used it to take you from the Vale to Brivan. The Travel Realm is what we call it. We don’t know how it works, so don’t ask.”

  She turned left and he followed. They eventually came to a smoothly carved wall with several large, wooden doors set into it. She pushed one of them open to reveal a large chamber full of weapons that led to another door at the end.

  “This used to be their armory, and at the end the garrison,” she said as she pushed onward without stopping.

  They went through the next door, and a series of beds were revealed. He could see that one of them had been used, as it was neatly made and the others were disheveled wrecks. It was clear that the dwarves who had once inhabited the hall had left in a hurry. She didn’t move to the bed, but instead went to a seat at a small table that was just to the left after entering. He took a moment to clench and unclench his fists before joining her.

  “The Travel Realm is the gateway to other realms. Many attempts were made to visit the other realms, but we learned quickly that this resulted in those Mage’s never returning to us. We don’t know what happened to them, but we do know that anyone that leaves the pathway while in the Travel Realm is never seen again. We don’t know what happens to them, either. We only know that when the Travel Realm is used properly, it works. Say what you will about the dangers, but it’s well worth the risk when used properly.”

  “Why are you telling me this?” he asked. “How will this help me save Amarand?”

  “It won’t. Nothing will. Gregor has already opened the first seal on this realm. When he opens the second, there will be a brief interlude and then Chaos will show himself. When he does, he will sweep across this place, leaving nothing but death in his wake. Every living thing in this realm will perish.”

  “Everything?”

  “Everything. Every tree, every insect, every blade of grass, every person. It will all be destroyed. Even Gregor.”

  “What kind of mad fool would seek to unleash his own destruction? Does he not understand that he will perish as well?”

  She shook her head, hands resting in her lap. “He does not care.”

  Doesn’t care? How can the old fool want to die and take everything with him? It made no sense to him. It was, obviously, an attempt at murder suicide. Even a novice Ardour would be able to figure that out. The question was: why?

  “You know so little of him that it cannot be expected of you to know why he does not care,” his mother said. Yes, whether he refused to accept her or not, she was his mother. He no longer doubted this. “The man called Gregor was once a boy younger than you. He was actually younger than your father, even. For long he had looked up to him, yearned to be just like him. But as always is the case among brothers, one excelled over the other. In this case it was Kraig who grew strong in his magic and made the decision to become a Rune Knight as soon as he was of age to do so. Both of his parents supported his decision. Gregor wanted to join him, but he wasn’t old enough and their parents would not allow him to travel with Kraig to Meridea.

  “For some time Gregor had been delving into a book he should not have been, learning things that his parents wouldn’t teach him because Dark Magic was forbidden. It was Dark Magic that had allowed Chaos into this Realm before. That time he was defeated at great cost and through the combined efforts of nearly every Mage in the Vale. While it was forbidden to teach it, the knowledge was kept as all knowledge of magic was kept. Gregor had gotten his hands on a copy of an ancient book that his parents had.

  “From that book he learned a great many things. When his frustrations took hold of him after Kraig left, he murdered his mother and absorbed her soul into himself. In doing so, he absorbed all of her magic potential into himself, growing stronger as a result. He then killed his father and went in pursuit of Kraig. Even then it was his intention to murder your father. He didn’t want anyone to look down at him anymore, even though Kraig never had, he was just older and ready for his future. He followed your father all the way to Meridea, but the barriers there kept him out because the stain of darkness was upon him. It was then that he went and conquered the orcs, and then the goblins. With these armies at his disposal, and his minion, the Shadow Imp, he conquered the vale.

  “Only one town managed to hold out because your father and a few other Rune Knights hid there. His suit of armor, when fully complete and worn, protected a large area from the effects of magic. We dealt with attacks from the goblins and orcs regularly, but we’d built sturdy defenses, and they were unable to use their own magic against us because of Kraig. That was how we survived. Then, one night not long after your birth, a man came into our home while we slept and killed your father before running away. Gregor then rained fire down upon the village. I escaped with you, but everyone else perished.

  “Gregor doesn’t care if he lives or dies because he has nothing to live for. He’s killed everything that had any meaning to him. He wants everyone else to suffer as he has, and for it all to end.”

  “Murder suicide,” Dearic said before he sighed. “So he absorbed other people’s power, which is why I won’t be able to defeat him. And if he wants to die, he has nothing to lose, meaning he’ll be recklessly dangerous, especially if he gets the final key.”

  “He has more power than any of the remaining mages combined, the two of us included. He can’t be stopped, he can only be fled from.”

  A sigh passed between his lips and he sat back in his chair, staring up at the stone ceiling. No way to fight the enemy. It felt incredibly wrong to know that all he could do was run from the fight; that he had to. But it wasn’t just about that. It wasn’t about anything but saving people now. Of course he had to start with the Mists.

  “Why is it me who has to do it?” he asked.

  “Because you’re the only one with the strength to do it. You aren’t strong enough to fight Gregor, but your ability makes you stronger than anyone. If you can think it, you can do it. You need to be able to hold the passage between realms open until everyone else is through.”

  “Alright, then. How do I do this? How do I save everyone?”

  Chapter Seventeen

  “Focus. Your portals are degrading too quickly.”

  Dearic dropped his hand with a sigh and looked at the white-haired woman who was sitting at the base of one of the gigantic columns, a long pipe curling down from her mouth, but no smoke coming from it. She didn’t actually smoke. It seemed to him that she just liked the feeling of holding the pipe and chewing on the end piece. He chose not to question her about it.

  “We’ve been doing this for hours. I’m tired,” he said, sitting down across from her.

  “You’ll have time for being tired when you’re dead. Dearic, how many times do I have to explain to you that this is a time sensitive issue?”

  A hand slapped his thigh and he looked across at her with narrowed eyes.

  “If I die of exhaustion there is very little hope for me doing what you’ve said I must, is there not?”

  His mother sighed and bit down hard on the pipe. No matter what she said, exhaustion would eventually kill him if he never took a break for food and rest. They’d been working for several hours, just trying to get to where he could create
a stable portal that would take him from one side of the hall to the other. It was certainly easier said than done. Yes, he could think things and make them happen, but it took a lot out of him, and he had trouble focusing on creating the portal alone. Everything about his uncle and the fact that he had to save the people of their realm was making it hard for him to focus.

  Fingers drummed on his kneecaps as he looked down at the floor between his feet. Sweat dripped down from his forehead, spattering on the floor and creating dark spots in the stone dust. He worked on slowing his breathing. When he could breathe without feeling it catch in his chest, he grabbed his water skin and took a healthy drink from it before rising once more.

  “I’m going to keep working on this,” he said as he gripped his stone. “I understand the importance. I just need a break from time to time.”

  He took a few deep breaths and steadied himself before he lifted the stone up before him. In his mind he pictured a swirling mass of light and air, and on the other end of that mass of light and air he envisioned the other side of the hall. It took a few moments, but before long the portal began to appear. At first it appeared strong and capable. But gradually the vision of the other side grew wavy and the portal disappeared altogether. He sighed and drew a few deep breaths of air in before lifting the stone again.

  They’d been at this for hours. Ever since he’d woken up in the morning they’d been out in the hall working on making portals. Without access to the sun he didn’t know how long they’d actually been at it, but it certainly did feel like it had been ages. Again and again he tried. Each time the portal would seem to be strong, only to fall apart moments after it formed. He didn’t know what he was doing wrong.