Revary

by Abigail Linhardt

  But the prince rolled his eyes then tried to hide it from her. “It doesn’t sound like she has much hope.”

  “Hey,” Clare shot at him. “How do you know I’m not some special earthling? Why can’t you give it a try too? You’ve just decided I’m not, but you seemed pretty eager earlier.”

  He shrugged pathetically. “Exactly. How do I know? Everything here is dying as well. I don’t even have the desire to rule my own kingdom.” He picked up a tankard and drank from it to hide his face. “It is better that I am here, dying.”

  Clare shook her head in disbelief. “How can you be like that? You’re a prince! Your job is to lead your people and protect them.”

  He turned his eyes on her in the firelight. His face was clouded over with fatigue. “My world is doomed by Umbra. Why fight against that when it’s simpler to wash away with the rest?”

  Clare arched her eyebrow and half smirked. “Then why do you hold on so tightly to your prejudices with the centaurs? You almost let yourself get killed over it.”

  Just then, a small stream of pebbles slid down the mountainside they were camping against. The prince silently leapt to his feet and drew his short sword. The centaur women bent their legs and quietly readied their weapons. All eyes went up.

  “Spider-lizard?” the prince whispered, his muscles tensing.

  The centaur sniffed the air quietly. “Yes and no. I smell its venom but I also smell…” She didn’t finish her sentence. If what she was smelling was there, then it could hear her.

  Elves, Clare thought.

  More little pebbles hurried down and the centaur watched its trail back up the mountain. Just outside the firelight was a small ledge where someone could crouch and wait. Clare took out her bow. The prince stealthily climbed onto a centaur’s back without her consent, using her like a stepping stool. After a quiet count, he leapt up, took two quick steps up the mountainside, and slashed at the top of the ledge.

  A shriek rang out and a small black mass tumbled down, crashing by the fire.

  “Elf!” the centaur cried and two other surrounded it with axes.

  Clare aimed her bow, not sure if elves were good or bad.

  “Show yourself!” she called to the winded bundle.

  The elf, entirely wrapped in black robes, stood. The stature of the creature was diminutive, but strong. A black, gloved hand reached up to the hood and pulled it back defiantly. Glaring in the firelight was an elf with white skin and white hair. A thin black headband wrapped around his forehead had a centered white and iridescent gem stone. He glared at his captors with malice.

  “Under elf,” the prince addressed the short figure with disgust. “What were you doing spying on our camp?”

  Looking into the elf’s pure black eyes, Clare was strongly reminded of Max and his elfin costumes.

  The elf didn’t move to reply or fight. He stood there in a strong stance of defense, but with no weapon, his fists clenched as if refusing to draw the twin katana-like blades on his back.

  “Speak!” the centaur roared, poking him with the sharp point on the top of her ax. “Never do your kind travel alone. Where are the others?”

  Twitching around to face her, the elf bared his fangs and hissed through his teeth at her. All the other centaurs warningly pointed their weapons at the elf. The prince took a step forward with his short sword poised. The elf didn’t even flinch.

  “Wait!” Clare said, raising her hands. Quite suddenly, like in other dreams, she knew what kind of elf this was. Bewildered at her sudden knowledge, she knew she had to stop them from sticking the elf with sharp blades. “This is an under elf,” she explained, not knowing where the words were coming from. “They are taught to never back down. They are a sly, quiet race. He will never admit it, but he’s wounded. I think he’s poisoned.”

  “Good riddance,” the centaur growled. “His people are selfish, treasure-hoarding killers! They hide in the mountains, making deals with the great Umbra, killing for sport. His kind are not allowed off the mountain into the next plane. All our lives, we’ve fought to keep them here in every pilgrimage we make. It is one of our sacred duties that we take upon ourselves. And yet, somehow, groups of them escape and torment our world. Only Umbra or an earthling can open those Gates. The way of these elves in the Nether are too mysterious. They would endanger us all!”

  It seemed that a hostility greater than Clare had realized had entered the ring of firelight. With that thought, her mind wanted to reach out further and imagine what lay beyond the mountain, beyond Zane’barren in the other planes.

  Around the elf’s little booted feet, a darker shadow was growing; a dark purple poison was dripping off of him.

  “There!” Clare said, pointing. “See? He’s been hurt by the spider-lizard.”

  “We should finish him!” the centaur cried, raising her ax.

  “I have no love for his kind,” the prince whispered through gritted teeth. “My father’s grave is witness to that.”

  The elf finally fell to his knees, realizing he stood no chance against the towering, muscular centaurs. He clutched his side where the deadly stinger must have pierced him.

  “Wait!” Clare yelled again. She crossed over to the elf and knelt by him. “If you want his kind to change their ways and not bother you any more, you must take the first step.” She eyed the centaur with meaning. “I’ll take him. He can serve me for saving his life.”

  The elf glared up at her through his white eyebrows, his fangs barred again.

  “That is not the way of his people,” the prince said. “He will kill himself before he is ever seen serving you, an earthling. The great Umbra would kill him for that.”

  Clare fixed her eyes on the elf’s black ones. His had slimmed to thin lines in the light from the fire. He was used to the dark of the mountain.

  “You will follow me and do as I say,” she commanded. She hoped her powers of being an earthling had the same effect on the elf as they had seemed to have on calling the centaurs.

  The elf’s pointed nose twitched as he fought her command.

  “Let me see the wound,” she ordered.

  With a mischievous glare at the prince, the elf sat down and quickly disrobed, leaving on only his black leggings and boots. A maw-shaped wound leaked poison from his side. He looked to his swords, then to Clare, then to the prince, where he smirked ever so slightly.

  Clare laughed, a little embarrassed. “I didn’t mean like that.”

  Behind her, the centaurs quietly chuckled at the elf.

  “I wouldn’t mind an under elf indebted to me now,” one said behind her hand to her neighbor, who nodded in gleeful agreement.

  Clare wished she hadn’t made the binding of a life-debt so known now. But with luck, they’d be out of the Nether and the centaurs would leave with her, leaving the elves alone.

  With a few more commands, Clare cleaned out the poison and dressed the elf’s wound. By the end of it all, his glare had changed to cautious curiosity. When Clare stood up to put away the medicines and left over bandaging in her new leather pack, the elf followed her. When she walked back to her bedroll he followed her again, taking a seat right beside where she laid down. His eyes never left her.

  “Um, go on. Sleep,” she commanded.

  The prince lay down beside her, but nearer the fire. “He cannot sleep at night. This is the time they go out to hunt and kill,” he said. “He will obey all of your other commands that do not go against his own magic binding.”

  “Hm,” Clare mused, staring at her new little companion. “Does he speak?”

  “Under elves are not allowed to speak to any not of their race,” he explained. He leaned his head back and folded his hands on his chest. “In the morning, I will take you to my castle if you will open the Gate. My mother, the queen, will be glad to know you have come. Perhaps her faith will be restored.”

  Clare laid all the way down now, still watched by her elf. “And yours?”

  He didn’t make any reply.
/>   “I’d like to know where I am,” she said. “And who you are. And you,” she said to the centaur.

  The centaur smiled. “That is the great mystery of you,” she said. “We do not know earthlings, but they can usually know us somehow.”

  “No,” Clare tried to correct her. “I don’t know you. What is your name?”

  The prince frowned, confused. “You do not know us?”

  “No,” Clare said, getting a little agitated. “I don’t even know where I am.”

  The prince and the centaur looked to each other in mild concern.

  “But you came to us,” the centaur said. “You must have come here to help us. We’ve been waiting for an earthling savior—”

  “For forever, yes. But what do I know?”

  Clare propped herself up on her elbows and stared hard at her strange companions.

  “I have no idea where I am. How I got here. Who you are. Stop that!” she directed her last command to the elf who was still staring at her.

  On cue, he reached down, tore a bit of material off his cloak, and tied it around his eyes, but still faced her.

  “You told him to follow you everywhere,” the prince said in a foul mood. “He is only obeying.”

  She could have been wrong, but Clare thought she detected a touch of jealousy in the prince’s voice. But she hardly had the mental capacity left to think on it. Suddenly, she was exhausted and weary. Her eyes ached and her neck was too tired to hold up her head any more.

  Overcome at last, Clare let her head fall into her hands. Was it her use of magic? That was the only explanation she could think of that let her know and do the things she’d done. She was tired from using magic. That couldn’t be an altogether good thing. She sighed.

  “I’m sorry,” she said. She addressed the prince, “Will I understand more when I come to your castle?”

  “That depends on you,” he said. His eyes held a touch of melancholy now. “Our land is in danger and only an earthling can save it. We thought you were that earthling.”

  “It is known to all the creatures that only one not of this world can save us,” the centaur said. “Even to the great Umbra.”

  Clare collapsed back down. “I need to sleep. And to think. I don’t suppose any of you will kill me in my sleep?” she inquired. “Since I’m some savior woman.”

  “Any earthling can do this task,” the prince said. Clare opened one eye to look up. “But you are the one who answered our call. We will not harm you. We are here to protect you and aid you on this task. That is what I heard as a child. My mother used to believe in the earthlings and tell me stories of one who came here and built a great Mirror.”

  She stared into the flames, thinking of all the tales she’d read in her life. All the games she’d plotted. “Stories of earthlings. In my world, we have stories of princes and centaurs.”

  She relaxed a little then, but glanced at her elf one more time. He was still sitting straight, eyes bound, next to her.

  This is either going to awesome or horrible, she mused.

  Chapter 5

  The Kingdom of Calimorden

  The sun did not wake Clare a few hours later, but the sound of harsh laughter and thumping hooves did. She sat up and had to rub her eyes to make the image come into focus. The centaurs, not trusting the elf still, had decided it would be fun to push him around in his blinded state and shove him to the ground. The little elf was no match for the massive centaurs and every time he got up to escape the circle, he was pushed to the other side where a jeering female would aim a kick or a shove. His bandage was bleeding through by now and he was panting amidst all the dust. The centaurs were jeering at him, daring him to use his dark magic to stop them. To the side sat the prince in a relaxed pose, not moving to stop them. Maybe it was good he wasn’t king yet.

  “Cut it out!” Clare yelled, running into the fray. She grabbed her elf by the arm and retreated out of the center. “What did I say last night? If you want his people to treat you differently, you must do the same!”

  The centaurs hung their heads a little, but still gripped their weapons tightly.

  “It is not often my kin find an under elf so weak,” the leader tried to explain. “They could not resist the temptation to give out some of the pain that this one’s people have given.”

  “I’ll not have it,” Clare said. She looked down at the elf. A few bruises were showing on his white face and his wound had opened again, but his pride seemed to be most hurt. “Are you hurt badly?” she asked him. “I thought you were supposed to be peaceful, religious types,” she snapped back to the centaurs.

  “We are not saints,” the leader said simply.

  After meeting Clare’s eyes for just a moment, the elf cast his gaze down to the ground.

  She felt all eyes on her as she touched the elf, cleaning and wrapping his wounds. She tried to be gentle, but she was tired. Her hands were weak as she worked, accidentally touching his tender flesh, which made him hiss.

  “Rather than gawking, why don’t you get wood to feed the fire? There’s enough in the dessert for twenty signal fires,” she ordered the onlookers.

  Some of them left right away while others glanced at each other before heading out.

  “And find something to eat!” she called after them. To the elf, she tried to smile and said, “Sorry my hands are so shaky. I’m not used to actually feeling the toll adventure takes on the body.” She tried to make it sound light, but his face remained grave.

  The prince sat across from her, offering a tankard of hot tea. “I’ve never seen someone as kind as you. Not even in my kingdom.”

  She stopped. It had come to her now. “The kingdom of Calimorden,” she blurted out. Names had been coming to her as if she was in a familiar place. She heard his name now, too. She rolled it over in her mind then said it out loud to make it real. “Prince Gwen of Calimorden.”

  The prince smiled. “So you do know of my kingdom? Calimorden is the oldest and strongest kingdom on the next plane.”

  “Yes,” Clare said. How she knew she couldn’t say. “We should go as soon as they come back.” Her hands shook and her stomach growled. “And as soon as I eat.”

  She tied off the bandages and offered her hot tea to the elf. He took the tankard slowly, his eyes never leaving hers. He sniffed it then deciding it wouldn’t hurt, took a long drink. He licked his lips and wiped his chin when he was done and Clare secretly thought it was adorable.

  When the others returned, she wanted to leave right away, but felt a sudden drain on her mental strength and her cheeks flushed as though she were coming down with a fever. The weakness took her by surprise, but she almost guessed instinctively what it was linked to. Was her power as an earthling perhaps not as limitless as she had thought? For a scary moment, she wondered what the consequences for such magic would be.

  The keeper of the gate between the Nether and Surface Plane was a huge spider-lizard at the mountain summit. His eight legs were taller than Clare and made of green lizard skin. Rising up from its spider legs was the unmistakable curving body of a lizard with four arms. At his side was a great horn. As they approached, its forked tongue slipped in and out.

  “Who comes to me?” it hissed. When he spoke, it was as if thunder had been beckoned by his voice and the sky rumbled.

  This had to be the only talking spider-lizard on this earth. The others were simply beasts.

  “You are unique among your fellows,” Clare said to it. “I am Clare from the other world and I demand you let us through the gate to the next plane.”

  A horrible grin spread across the spider-lizard’s face, its fangs slick with poison. “The Celestial Plane has been buzzing with talk of you, earthling. I see now it is true. You walk so boldly and foolishly on this plane.”

  “I have my friends,” Clare responded, not sure if she should have been more frightened on this plane. “Let us through.”

  “An under elf,” he mused. “The sins of this one prevent him from traveling
up without the great Umbra’s permission. The magic of the centaurs will let them pass through on their pilgrimage. And the prince,” his eyes turned to slits from the widening of his evil grin, “his trials are not yet up. He was given to the great Umbra. He cannot leave.”

  Clare looked back to the prince. “What does he mean? I need you with me.” She turned back to the spider-lizard. “I take them with me. Give me the crimes they have committed to be sentenced here. I will fulfill them when I can.”

  “Ah!” the spider-lizard crowed. “The ranger is brave. The sins of the elf are many and the prince’s price is heavy. Who are you to claim you can satisfy such dangerous promises?” It was a question, but his eyes suggested he guessed the answer.

  Suddenly, Clare realized this could be exactly what the beast wanted. But if she had greater powers here than any creature, being an earthling, then she had nothing to fear. And the Surface Plane was the only way she was going to be able to leave.

  “I will justify their sins,” she said. “Let me pass this gate.”

  The spider-lizard’s grin fell only a little at her strong words. “You think you are strong, but all powers have limits, stranger. Seven planes this world has. Can you save them all? I am Amdusius, Keeper of the Nether Plane, the underworld. Remember me and remember your debt.” He produced a palm-sized glass bottle with a black parchment roll inside of it. “The list of sins for you to keep. It is not a debt to be repaid, but a burden you must bear. Only when it is time will you know what to do. Do not forget.”

  Clare took it and stowed it safely in her leather pouch without a look or thought of confusion. Amdusius, the great spider-lizard, lifted the horn to his hideous mouth and blew it hard. A chilling music rose up and the sky behind him wavered and split open to reveal the new plane. The centaurs galloped through with the prince close behind them, glad to be out of the Nether Plane. Clare was halfway to the door when she realized her elf had held back.