“I can’t do much,” she blushed. “Certainly nothing as special as what you do with your ring.”
Alahim had almost forgotten about his ring. He raised his hand and glanced down at it. To his dismay, the ring had formed itself into the shape of a heart! He hoped she didn’t make the connection. He was only eleven. He didn’t know what he was feeling, but he was pretty sure it wasn’t love. He knew he loved his parents, and the way he was feeling towards Lily was very different from that. There was a huge barrier between them as well. He would sooner touch razor wire with flaming acid on it than reach over and touch her skin.
He quickly shoved it in the fold of his tunic. “That’s not my magic, though. Your mother and a wizard made the ring. I just wear it. I want to see your magic.” He hoped changing the subject to something she was nervous about would distract her attention from his heart-shaped ring.
“I can try to summon light for you,” she said, going over the details in her mind. She closed her eyes, long eyelashes floating effortlessly towards her high cheekbones. Her forehead wrinkled in concentration, and she held her hands out, cupping her palms upwards.
“Gerwet, Lucidet, Fialswe,” she mumbled. At first Alahim didn’t notice anything, but then he saw that the area inside her hands was growing lighter. He could only notice by comparing it with the darkened interior of the wagon. The ball of light became brighter to the point where its edges were clearly defined. She let her hands fall to her side and exhaled sharply.
“I’m sorry. I’m new at this.”
“No, I thought that you were…”
“I’m just nervous.”
“No! No,” Alahim forcefully cut in. “That was very…”
He was saved from giving a somewhat less than veracious compliment as Zelin interrupted them.
“Children! Be very careful with magic,” he admonished. “Make sure you do nothing stronger than simple elemental summons.”
From what he had seen of Lily’s skill, it appeared to Alahim that Zelin’s warning was largely unnecessary.
“Simple magic is permitted,” he continued. “Many hundreds of people use it on a daily basis to help cook, clean, or find what is lost. But each spell creates a propagating disturbance in the local magergy field. If the enemy is close or the magic is powerful, they will be able to see into the caster’s mind.”
“I’m sorry,” she said. Everything was turning out wrong.
“Not at all,” Zelin’s face crinkled into a smile. “In fact, I will be happy to teach you simple spells to pass the time. Alahim, too, is welcome to learn.”
Thus they passed the rest of the week. Their journey was progressing smoothly under the watchful eye of several powerful adults. It was not until they had been gone for eight days that their trouble began.
***********************
They found shelter in a group of tall, leafy deciduous trees set off from the main road. It was clearly a campsite frequented by others, and there was already a fire ring and cooking grate set up.
Alahim, Lily, Valena, Yvonne and Zelin usually slept in the wagons, while Fientien, Garseon, Dalin, Tarthur and Derlin slept outside. However, they all came outside to stretch and eat before dinner. They were traveling late and leaving early, and making good time. They were only four days out of Walis.
The wind whispered through the trees as they creaked slowly back and forth. Their supply of fresh fish had been exhausted, and they were making due with salted fish and beef. These salty meals left them all quite thirsty, but they had plenty of water in the wagons and their hollow drums they refilled whenever they came to a stream.
The day was already dark but soon Tarthur had a fire going which cast its light far off into the darkness. Alahim was sitting next to Zelin, going over some of the magic he had been practicing. It wasn’t nearly as easy as he thought. His bungled attempts had somehow even managed to make Lily look skillful.
There was a snap of a twig and everyone looked around. Only Garseon thought to dive on Alahim, though, as a whizzing sound filled the air.
He had managed to push the boy out of the main path of the dart, but Alahim cried out sharply as the dart nicked him on his neck.
Everyone was up except Garseon, who pushed Alahim under the wagon.
A second source of illumination was provided as Derlin drew the Light Sword, providing an eerie, oval column of radiance. “Back, behind me now!” he called out to Valena and Lily.
More darts whizzed down out of the darkness, one striking Fientien in the rear. The dwarf howled in pain and plucked the dart out.
The rain of projectiles stopped as suddenly as it had begun. Zelin had woven a pink dome around the companions that shielded them. Tarthur heard a few bounce off the dome and then silence.
They waited for a breathless moment.
A dark figure bounded down from the tree, and charged the group instead of fleeing. It did not take Yvonne crying out “That’s her!” for everyone to know that the figure in the shadows was their pursuer.
She raced toward Alahim, but Tarthur had a jet of fire ready to meet her. She kicked up a piece of dry wood and sent it straight at Tarthur’s spell, momentarily knocking off the blast. Tarthur had to be careful—he could overpower her in the open field, but he had to keep a tight control over his magic to ensure that he would not hit a friend.
Garseon pulled Alahim out the back of the underside of the wagon and away from the battle. He drew his sword and watched the night with eagle eyes.
Fientien charged toward the elf, but as he swung his blade she slipped, landing face down in the grass. Her hands reached out, clutching the fallen leaves frantically, and she barely spun in time to avoid his falling strike.
She sprung up to face Dalin, whose blade was already traveling towards her neck.
She faced him head on and looked into his eyes.
Dalin’s killing stroke lost its power and stopped at her neck.
She dropped her sword, still locked by his gaze. Waves of shock rippled through them both.
Fientien came at her from the corner, and she noticed the movement in her peripheral vision. She sprung to her right, cartwheeled a log, and was lost into the night.
The eerie silence was stifling and everyone was momentarily frozen in shock. The stillness was broken by the elf king sagging to his knees and sinking his heavy head in his hands.
The rest turned to look at Dalin.
“You…you knew her.” Yvonne’s tone was a mixture of astonishment and the feeling of betrayal.
“Her name is Kitrina,” he confirmed. Then, when it was obvious that no one was going to be satisfied with only a name, he continued:
“She was my lover.”
Chapter 8: The Dreaded Isle
To say he was frustrated would have been an understatement. That was like saying the bowels of a volcano were ‘warm’, or that the death lord was ‘unfriendly.’ He ground his fist into the hard, unpolished wood of the table and then sat back, letting his head bang against the wall behind his booth. The men he was waiting for sure were taking their time in coming.
He could have gone back and shared what he knew. He did have valuable information. However, knowing what waited at someone’s destination was far better than simply knowing their journey. He had sent another back in his place, but he had to continue on.
The door swung open and three men entered. Their faces were smooth and not marked by scars or other injuries. That meant that they were either inexperienced or better than most. It didn’t matter. He didn’t need them for more than their services, or perhaps some of their possessions.
He waited while they went to the bar and ordered a round of hot drinks. The bartender set three mugs of spiced ale down on the counter with a thud and the leader slid over a large bronze coin. The other two finished off their first draughts and ordered more, but the leader had finished only half of his. He left the other two to their drinks and approached the table in the corner. The dark man’s eyes darted to the half-full glas
s in the leader’s hand, and then to the booth, motioning him to sit.
“I’m going easy on it for now. If I drink too much of this stuff I might actually consider what you’re asking. And I don’t have to sit down to tell you you’re a damn fool!”
“You may think what you wish, but if you announce anything else in a loud voice it will be the last thing you ever say.”
That got him to sit down and lean in close. “Captain Darius Kye, of the Lepore.”
“Pleased to meet you, Captain Kye. My name is Abwen,” Latson said. He was far from home and sure no one would recognize him, but he always preferred to use an alias whenever he could.
“Since you appear to know my objective already, I will cut straight to the point. I need passage to the Isle of the Dead.”
“And why, pray tell, are you traveling there?”
“My reasons are my own.” Latson had the look of a hunter about him.
Darius leaned back and took a long, skeptical look at him. Finally, he seemed satisfied. “Well, you don’t look like a fool, but you sure talk like one. I already know what goes on on that island, so I might as well just tell you and save you the trip.”
“I’d rather go myself. If you are unwilling, then sell me one of your lifeboats.”
Darius chuckled. “You think you can get there simply with determination? The passage is full of sharp submerged rocks. It’d take an experienced sailor nigh a week to sound it out. One false move and it’s down to the bottom. I’ve seen better sailors than you try to cross it, and not one came back….” he trailed off as he realized that he’d said too much. For, one of them had come back, months later….
“You mean, not one came back alive?” Latson said. “There are skull knights being made there again. I need to find out who is making them and why.”
Darius hesitated, almost as if he was considering the request, but soon his better judgment took over. “Sorry, lad. You seem like a good person, and I couldn’t bear to think that I had some part in you becoming like them.”
Latson felt the argument slipping away. They hadn’t even discussed prices yet, and he had a large amount of money to spend. He took out a piece of paper and wrote a number down on it.
He slid the paper across the table. “Captain Kye, I implore you. Just sell me one of your lifeboats for the amount of money on this slip of paper, and you will be free of me forever. You are not responsible for my life.”
Kye took the paper and stood up without looking at it. “If there’s one thing I’ve learned from being a captain, my job is only about being responsible for other people’s lives. I’m sorry.” He crumpled the paper, left it on the table, and strode out into the night, his two companions in tow.
***********************
“I knew I should have told you earlier,” he apologized. “But, please understand—I had to be sure.”
“You knew all along,” Yvonne repeated.
He sank to sit on a stump even as his head sank into his hands. “I didn’t know. Suspected, yes, but I didn’t think it was even possible that she was still alive.”
Tarthur began reaching through the leaves around where Alahim had been sitting. “Whatever the case, Alahim has been hit. We must find the dart first.” He called out to the others, who had already begun to search. “Don’t just reach in blindly with your hands, the end of the dart could be tipped with…with…” he couldn’t finish, fear rising in his throat.
Zelin brought forth a brilliantly glowing orb, which spread its warm presence out into the fire lit night. The orb hovered above their campsite, washing out the darkness with a constant glow.
“Found it!” Derlin exclaimed, pulling something from the pile of wet leaves.
“There may be more,” cautioned Zelin. “We must find them all.”
Dalin picked himself up and aided the search, trying extra hard to atone for his mistakes. Yvonne cared for Alahim, wiping his forehead with a damp cloth. He didn’t seem to be injured, other than the scratch on his neck.
In the end, they found all sixteen needles that had been fired into the campsite. Garseon had a habit of counting every shot fired. He had lost enough needles of his own in the woods when he first started training to listen to the soft puff of wind that preceded the flight of a dart and match it to the whizzing sound of the dart piercing the air.
Zelin, Garseon, and Valena looked them over together. Zelin probed the darts for magic while Garseon carefully examined their construction. Valena wiped the darts on leaves and smelled the points, trying to determine if any elven herb concoctions had been applied. After a tense fifteen minutes, Valena determined that some of the darts had been dipped in suggestasap, which would make the victim very agreeable for a short time, but leave no permanent damage.
“Let’s see if he was affected,” Valena said, dropping to one knee to look in the boy’s eyes. She took Alahim’s jaw with her hand to force him to regard her with his undivided attention.
“Alahim,” she intoned softly, “I need you to do something special for me.”
“Anything,” his lips formed the word.
“I want you to go kiss Lily for me.”
“Ewwwwwwww!” Lily exclaimed in spite of herself.
“Ewwwwww!” Alahim echoed back, only two Ws less disgusted. “Do I have to?”
“No,” Valena replied, and then gave him a stern look with the barest hint of a smile in the corner of her mouth. “As if I was going to let you! I just wanted to see if you had been affected by suggestasap. It’s obvious that you haven’t, or else you would have done whatever I asked of you without questioning.”
Now that the immediate danger to Alahim had passed, the tension left the group like a bent bow that was relaxed slightly upon the approach of those thought to be friends but still feared to be enemies. They still had the large problem of Dalin’s history and betrayal of their trust, if that was even what it was.
Zelin set up a perimeter of magical alarm points two hundred meters around the camp. It was taxing for him to do so, but they needed rest and the sudden appearance of Kitrina had ripped off their blanket of complacency.
The group settled into an uneasy stalemate, each burning to know Dalin’s explanation, none daring to ask. He seemed to gather his thoughts even as the rest gathered around him and claimed their respective seats. The static silence was broken as he began.
“Her name is Kitrina,” he repeated, savoring each of the three syllables that he had not uttered for so many cold years. “She grew up in Breshen—her parents were commoners and not interested in their daughter’s life. She was in training to become a member of the Erringuard, before it was disbanded. She...” he struggled to continue. “She was one of the best. No—the best. There was just something about her. She didn’t know fear. No—that is not true, but it is how she appeared to everyone else. I alone she let into her fears. She always had to prove herself, even if it meant hurting herself. Her faults were fuel to the fire of her passion. She engulfed everyone she touched, but none more than me.”
“We were set to be married, but she made of me one last, foolhardy request.” Dalin wrenched his hands in grief. “She was so persuasive. If I somehow found myself back on that fateful day, could I have stopped her, even with the knowledge I now possess?”
“She wanted us each to know ourselves fully before entering into that sacred contract. She wanted to gaze upon the Wall of Glass.”
Tarthur froze, his mind streaking back through the haze of memory to the first time he had learned of Tivu, in that campfire story of his youth. Dalin had mentioned something about the dangers of entering the Eternal Vale, and then brushed aside Tarthur’s probing questions. The casual remark had been buried in the place within his mind given to more mundane concerns.
“She was the one,” Tarthur said without emotion. He had always thought that Dalin had been referring to a male friend. “The one who tried to enter but was driven insane.”
“She is the one,” Dalin repeated. “I was suppos
ed to go first. She had promised me that I could go first, and she would follow only after we knew it was safe.”
“Did you not know the nature of the powerful magic guarding the Vale?” Zelin asked sternly, frowning and focusing his eyes on the elven king.
“We were not foolish enough to try to enter the Vale. Yet, we had heard that if one gazed at a corner of the Wall and did not stare too closely into it, one might gain self-knowledge without losing everything. Either this is a bitter lie, or she tried to enter. We may never know the truth. One thing is certain, though…”
Here he paused, unwilling or unable to continue.
“We camped just out of sight of the Wall in a clearing of aspen trees,” he said, somehow finding his voice. “We decided to go in at sunrise—me first and her once I knew it was safe. I really believed that she would wait for me….”
“I woke up to screaming. She was running around wildly and aimlessly, like a…” he floundered, and then regained control of himself. “Like a horse that has just been shod with red-hot iron shoes. She ran to me then…. When I looked in her eyes, it was like seeing an entirely different person. There was only the faintest sliver of her old self there. For a second I started to be dragged in with her, but I managed to pull away. She ran from me then, and I ran after her.”
“I tracked her. Her path was unpredictable, but easy for me to follow. She ran from me with no destination, always outpacing me, only allowing me to catch a faint glimpse of her silhouette on the crest of a ridge in the moonlight, or see the ripples she left in a pool.”
Dalin sighed, still trying to convince himself that he had done his best. “I followed her far and wide across the Lands of Daranor, sticking to her as her shadow, never falling behind but yet never able to physically catch her and bring her to healers.”
Lands of Daranor: Book 02 - ProphecyQuest Page 14