Analindë (The Chronicles of Lóresse)

by Melissa Bitter

  He’d always envied his friend this home, away from the intrigue and treachery. Those carefree summer days had been some of the happiest of his childhood, traipsing all over these cliffs and hills while outwitting Riian’s younger sister. Without the constant threat of assassins, it had been easy to relax and actually trust. He’d longed to have a home like this someday. Perhaps he’d take his leave of absence next year and start an outpost of his own. Think about building a home, finding a wife, starting a family.

  Bittersweet memories assailed him of mock sword fights with Riian that had taken place in the field to his right, falling off the stonemason’s roof, and breaking his arm the time he’d tried to walk along its spine, or the many idyllic afternoons when they’d stolen sweet fruit pies from the cooling racks of Glendariel. Uneasy about what he might find, Arandur took a deep breath to steady himself and focused his thoughts back to the job at hand.

  He sat for a long time as his senses stretched out across the village. That the humans had defeated his friends made him wary and unsure of his skills. But he acted how he’d been trained to do; use his powers, then act as if he’d lost their use. It was the only safe way to proceed. While he retracted his senses back to himself, he visually searched for traps or signs of the humans. Finding neither, he edged his way around the rock and covertly slid toward the nearest building, the stable.

  Buckets were toppled over, grain sacks slashed, bales of hay upended and untied. Oats fanned out along the floor, doors hung awkwardly from their hinges and tools lay scattered on the ground as if thrown in a fit of rage. There were no horses inside the stable; he hoped they’d all been used to transfer the villagers to the Harvest Festival and not been taken by the humans. He searched the stables for any messages that might have been left or any clue of the human’s intent, but found nothing.

  He looked out past the stable doors and scanned the area outside before slipping over to the next building; it was the farmer’s house. He made a quick search of the home; nothing was amiss other than the fact that it looked as if a whirlwind had blown through, scattering things every which way. He found the stonemason’s house and workshop to be much in the same state.

  Halfway to the house, the sweet smell of decaying flesh wafted toward him. He rounded the corner of a cottage and stopped in his tracks. An elvish woman lay on the ground in front of him . . . Glendariel. The name rose unbidden to his mind. Darkness stained the ground around her. She must have bled out. Her husband’s crumpled body lay several paces from her. Even with the cool nights their bodies had begun to decompose. He knelt respectfully next to the old woman, thanking the stars for the gift of friendship she and her husband had given him as a child.

  Once the village was deemed safe, per elvish custom, Arandur and the rest of the quintet would return to burn the bodies. He left Glendariel and quickly searched her home, finding nothing but the same destruction he’d found in the others. Whatever the humans searched for they must not have found, for nothing was left untouched.

  He quickly finished searching the other buildings, leaving the great house until last. Sadness washed over him as he looked to the proud home. An enormous pit sat ominously where the west wing should have been. Arandur had a sneaking suspicion that the Mages of Lindënolwë had destroyed the home themselves in order to protect whatever lay hidden inside. The thought that his friend had outwitted the humans made him happy for a brief moment.

  He entered the stately great house and began his search. It was in the worst shape of all the buildings. Portraits had been ripped from the walls along with wall paper, lamps, and decorative woodwork. Holes pitted the walls where the humans had searched for hidden panels and safes. Books lay strewn about the floor, pages torn, bindings broken. Furniture was not just overturned but snapped apart and gutted. The level of malice in the destruction sickened him and made him nervous. He did not linger but methodically and in a detached manner quickly searched the next room.

  Arandur was surprised to find no more bodies as he searched through the great house. For a fleeting moment he hoped that the message had been wrong, that somehow only two had perished. But the hopeful feeling sank quickly as he remembered that not only could some of the great energies kill you, but they could incinerate you.

  Riian’s parents were great mages. Of course the spell used to defeat them would not just kill them but completely wipe their existence from off the face of the land.

  He found the message cupboard that had been used to warn the Realm in the kitchen. He stretched his senses out, searching for a trace of who had activated the spell. He found the faint essence of one elve, but couldn’t tell if the elve was male or female, young or old. It did not matter; he would not have traded the survivor’s life for Riian’s no matter how much he had valued their friendship. He retracted the tendril of Energy that he’d sent to search the cupboard and stalked off to explore the rest of the home.

  Arandur had finished his search and now circled the barren spot on the ground where the western part of the great house had lain for over five millennia. Cool autumn air whistled through nearby trees, making him think of the survivor out there alone in the mountains. He turned his thoughts back to his search and then scrambled over and around great granite boulders the size of carts, burnt timbers, and powdered marble. Charred earth and rubble was all that remained of the great wing. He sensed no remains, elven or otherwise.

  With nothing else to be discovered from the village, he headed for a spot just outside the greatest wards where he would await news from the others. He found a pleasant place to sit, a small knoll overlooking the village. He kept his thoughts away from the depressingly morose, and so he sat with his back to the sight of so many boyhood memories, focusing instead on the tall grasses which had begun to brown, and the thick blanket of golden leaves covering the forest floor beyond. The aspens in this part of the mountains were beautiful. Tall and stately, they grew much larger here than elsewhere. Much time passed before his companions joined him; friend faced friend as they sat, listening to the sounds of the forest. None spoke until they had all gathered.

  The five of them sat in a loosely formed ring; Arandur broke the pervasive stillness amongst the group. “I found a destroyed ward just outside the village. Human tracks near it indicate a portal was used. Two elves lay dead in the village, but I found no sign of other dead. I did find Energy traces from when the survivor used the message cupboard, but they were faint to read. I sensed the residuals of spells the humans cast. They were quite thorough in destroying much of what they found, resulting in significant property damage. Indistinct tracks led through the gardens into the woods, indicating the escape route the elve used.” Arandur shifted his weight. It was difficult to remain objective. “What news Sintriel?”

  “We found no traces of recent passage by the humans and no sign of the survivor. None of the wards we passed were tripped,” she reported somberly. Mild curiosity swirled deep within her eyes, but she did not speak further.

  “And you Thalion?”

  “We found passage on a trail heading northeast from the village.” Arandur remembered this trail; if memory served him correctly it would eventually curve and head northwest toward Mirëdell. Thalion continued, “We were not able to approach too closely to the village because of the wards. We wondered many times how the humans were able to exit through them.”

  “The wards were meant to guard from unauthorized entry, not exit, and were probably quite happy when the thing they guarded against left.” Thalion’s face darkened at Arandur’s response.

  “We followed the tracks for some time,” Thalion continued. “It appears that one flees from three. The one appears to be a young woman; the shoe prints indicate she’s elven.”

  “Analindë,” Arandur’s heart sank as Riian’s death was confirmed.

  “The three that follow–” Thalion paused a moment and sent an inquiring look at Arandur; a slight smile quirked his lips.

  “Two men, one woman, with one of the men le
ading?”

  “Yes, Arandur. You read the tracks correctly. They lost her trail about three hours journey up the mountain. It looks as if they traversed the same ground over and over until their steps blended together. It appears that she hid for awhile and successfully kept them at bay. We sensed great disturbances in the flow of power throughout that area, indicating death strikes.”

  Rage, quick and hot, flashed through Arandur. He clamped it down, keeping a tight leash on the emotion. The humans were cowards and idiots. Why use a sledge hammer when a thin blade would work just as well? This unskilled use of power had caused damage which would take millennia to heal properly. He purposely did not think of poor Analindë cowering in her hiding place while the humans hunted her.

  “We know she escaped because the human tracks indicate they hunted her again after the attack. Their trail continued up the mountain, but they lost her when they got to the rocks. We did find some small traces of her passage which indicate she continued on toward Mirëdell. With your permission, I’ll alert Daerwen so that scouts can be sent to meet her on the way.

  “The humans themselves have left the valley, perhaps as late as yesterday.”

  Startled, Arandur frowned. That couldn’t be right. “Yesterday?”

  “Yes, the indicators of their passage were vivid and easy to read.”

  “You are sure.”

  “Yes.” Thalion now wore a frown just as dark as his friend’s. “You did not sense them?”

  “No.”

  “Humans can’t travel that quickly,” Sintriel added.

  “I didn’t think so either,” Arandur responded.

  “Perhaps they have developed a new type of shielding?” Urúvion asked.

  “Let us hope not,” Thalion replied.

  “You’re sure they left the valley?” Arandur asked. Thalion nodded. “And they did not circle back?”

  “Definitely not.” The answer was succinct.

  “Good.” Arandur’s shoulders relaxed slightly. “Perhaps I missed them before–”

  “That’s doubtful.” Sintriel cut him off.

  “Nonetheless, I’ll try to search them out again before nightfall. Perhaps I can extend my reach.” Arandur continued.

  “It is good that she got away,” said Sintriel.

  “Yes.”

  “Should we search out her trail and follow?” Urúvion asked.

  “No,” Arandur frowned, “Our orders are to secure the valley, then follow the humans. Besides, her lead on us is too great. The others will look for her when she’s reached the other side of the mountain range,” said Arandur.

  “I did try to call out to her,” Thalion added hesitantly, glancing quickly to the two newish members of their team. “I targeted her specifically. But even though I had a general sense that she might yet live, I was unable to pinpoint where she was, nor do I think my message was successful in reaching her. Should you wish, I can continue to try calling to her,” Thalion asked.

  Arandur nodded, “Yes, if it does not tax you too much. Please continue to reach out.”

  “May the stars guide her journey to safety,” said Urúvion.

  Arandur hoped it wouldn’t take much longer for the scouts to reach her. He made a mental note to ask Thalion to get status updates frequently so that if he wasn’t successful in reaching her through farspeaking that they could know when she’d safely reached the other scouts.

  Silence hung about the group for awhile, yet Arandur did not get up. He’d seen a question swirling in the depths of Sintriel’s eyes earlier and was now curious himself to see if she’d ask her question. His patience was rewarded when she spoke.

  “The cupboard.” She paused, “Did you find more than one?”

  Ahhhh, of course. Sintriel would wonder about the defensive mechanisms here. “No, I only saw the one. It was in the kitchen.”

  “And it was unharmed?”

  “I believe it was hiding. It successfully hid from me when I first stepped near it.”

  “Was the message still engraved upon the board?”

  “No, the message had been wiped clear.”

  Sintriel looked interested more than anything.

  She spoke again, “You know, it’s been millennia since the boards were last used.”

  “I hadn’t realized it had been quite so long.”

  “There’s been a lot of speculation as to how the mechanics of the messaging cupboards actually work. For instance, it is said that the strength of the alarm is directly correlated to the intent of the message that is sent. The more dire or urgent the intent is behind the message, the stronger the bell will sound.”

  Sintriel sat back suddenly, surprised that she’d spoken so much. Arandur recognized the signs. Sintriel’s internal censor had kicked in. They wouldn’t learn anything else about cupboards this evening. He spoke up, smoothing the change in topic. “Have you visited before?”

  “No, my family has never had that honor.”

  Arandur paused, then spoke thoughtfully. “I’ll show you the cupboard as soon as we arrive and will point out certain wards that you should appease before you start working separately from the group.”

  She nodded, eyes thankful and face blank.

  Urúvion spoke up, “Arandur, what of the others? You only mentioned finding two bodies. What of the other three?”

  “The Mages of Lindënolwë were very powerful; it would have taken a great spell to overcome them.”

  Dismay and horror flashed briefly across Urúvion’s face before a calm mask descended. If indeed the other three had died, there would be no bodies to find.

  “Thalion, please, would you report to Daerwen? Tell her what was discovered, that we will take time to burn the dead, that Analindë has travelled beyond my ability to sense, and lastly, that we will track these humans unless otherwise directed.” Arandur paused a brief moment before adding. “Also, tell her the humans might not have found what they were looking for.”

  “Arandur?” asked Sintriel.

  “There was much destruction within the village, as if a great search was conducted. I felt . . . much rage.” His companions eyed him and shifted in unease. It was uncommon for him to sense residual feelings this long after an event and it made his quintet wary.

  After Thalion relayed their news, the scouts approached the wards of the village together. Now that the valley had recognized Arandur and re-granted temporary access, he firmly pressed against the invisible barriers before them and said, “Friends pass here.” And so they crossed over and into the village to burn their dead.

  The Seventh Chapter

  In the High Mountains of Lóresse

  ANALINDË WOKE TO THE SOUND of birds overhead. The flap of wings, feathers rustling, and the songs they sang to each other drifted down to where she lay. She crawled out of the nest she had slept in and looked up at the mid-morning sun filtering down through the trees. “I slept too late,” she said groggily as she rubbed her eyes with the backs of her hands. She dragged herself over to a nearby sunny spot and rooted through her pack to find breakfast. She decided to eat the last of her fresh fruit and some cheese, then scavenge for edible greens nearby.

  She refilled her water sack from a stream, then moved back to the sunny clearing in the forest to eat. Autumn flowers bobbed beneath the light breeze curling through the glade. She sat in golden warmth, a puff of air at her cheek, and savored the play of tart against sweet as she ate her berries one by one. Every now and then she’d take a bite of cheese, letting the salty richness act as the perfect foil for the berries. When she’d finished eating, she closed her eyes on the idyllic scene, then attempted to find her center. The gentle rays of the autumn sun felt heavenly against her skin; she imagined pulling the warm caress to her core as if it could somehow heal her ravaged body and dispel the chill that had taken up residence inside her. As she settled into position and focused on her breathing, her cares fled away and a deep calm filled her.

  Connected to the peaceful glade around her, she bec
ame one with the ripple of purple autumn flowers and grasses, the sway of tall trees surrounding her, and of geese as they flew overhead. As her breath moved deeply in and out, contentment filled every nook and cranny it could find. She let that contentment ooze through her until she hummed with a feeling of rightness and peace. She gathered her senses in, exhaled one last time, then stood up and grabbed her pack. She was ready.

  She felt better than she had in a long while. Even through the numbness of the flat shield her muscles didn’t ache quite as badly, her heart felt lighter, and her mind clearer. She found her way back to the path with ease, then started down its length once again. It was a skinny path, just wide enough for a horse drawn cart, not that carts were used anymore these days. Smooth and slightly rounded, the packed dirt had weathered well. Too well. She supposed that one of her ancestors truly had blazed this trail, weaving an everlast spell into it as they had worked. She wondered to herself if the trail reformed each time someone keyed to it traversed its length, or if it existed all the time and was simply kept hidden from strangers. Her mother had told her of its existence in hushed words once when she was little, but it was definitely not on any map she’d ever seen.

  She checked her two shields as she walked; all was in order and intact. She looked into the black void seeking the Humans. They had drifted further east toward the Mountain City. She grinned at her fortune at being able to escape them, then continued to take stock.

  She looked to her reservoir to see how much Energy she had left and squealed in surprise. Her reservoir was full! Footsteps slowing, she studied it in amazement. “Where did it come from?” She sent a tendril of thought into the pale rose energies filling her reservoir and slid easily through them. They reminded her of the rustle of leaves and the play of grasses in the wind, with a bitter overtone of bark.