Analindë (The Chronicles of Lóresse)

by Melissa Bitter

  She stood up and started getting ready for the day. Rest could wait for later.

  She was wearing her cold weather traveling clothes. They would keep her warm and allow her the same freedom of movement that her scout’s clothing had. She had also re-scryed the location of the scouts so she knew where to transport them both. She’d found a spot—in front of the scouts—on the trail that felt like it was a good place to land. Had Andulmaion asked, she would have been hard pressed to describe how she’d chosen the spot other than to say that the little plot of ground felt right.

  He took one look at her travel wear and the trousers she wore and said, “Good,” then headed to his room to change and pack.

  Analindë made traveling tea and checked the straps on her small pack three or four times before it finished steeping. The bitter-sweet tea smelled like grass. It wasn’t one of her favorites, but they’d need the strength, so she drank a cup, then poured another.

  She looked down at her hands to find that she had yanked the ring off her finger so many times that her finger was red and swollen. She shoved it back on, stood, and began to pace around the room.

  What if she killed them both? She blanched, twisted the ring around her finger again, stopped, then ran through the steps of jumping for the thousandth time. Why did he put so much trust in her? She was new to all of this and was still growing into her abilities. She wasn’t her parents and hadn’t a fraction of their skill. What had she done?

  Andulmaion re-entered the room carrying his pack and a sword she had only seen once before was strapped to his side. The guard and grip were inlaid with gold and a large green jewel was set into the pommel. The blade was functional, but every surface was filled with intricate patterns reminiscent of the tower shielding. Leaves, vines, and old elvish glyphs were tooled into the green leather running down the length of the sheathe. The sword was beautiful. It was deadly. It looked efficient. And she wondered what it would feel like to wield a sword like that. Catching afternoon sun, the stone in the hilt winked ominously at her as he re-sheathed the sword. She handed him a cup of tea. The sword slapped against his leg as he moved to sit. She shivered.

  She refilled his cup when he’d finished and looked longingly at the blue covered book in the library, then at her packs near the door. She sighed and began to circle the room. Andulmaion watched her, sipped his tea, and fingered his coat sleeve as she paced.

  He finally set his cup to the side and crossed the room to pick up his packs—the small travel pack and the food bag—sword swinging in his wake.

  “Andulmaion.” She was so afraid.

  “Analindë?” He turned to her, his eyes questioning.

  “There are things that can go wrong with this. You should know beforehand that I don’t know if we’ll make it.”

  The stars in his eyes cleared and calmed. Confident. “I worry not.”

  That’s all he said. Nothing more. No words of comfort, no words of cheer. He didn’t try to cajole her out of the moment, or press her forward; he just made the simple statement. He was not worried.

  He should be worried. Instead, he believed in her. She needed to start believing in herself. She pulled herself together. She would not let her fear rule her. It was poisonous. She nodded, then said. “Let us go.”

  They hesitated at the bottom of the stairs, searching for watchers outside. She reached out and he grabbed her hand. She was going to take him through one of the secret passageways. She wasn’t sure if he’d be able to see it, so the plan was to stay connected.

  He squeezed her hand. His grip felt warm, reassuring. He also felt manly, which was ridiculous because he was a man. She stifled a giggle.

  “Ready?” She asked. The confidence in her voice sounded strange. He nodded, and so they opened the door, then darted across the hallway. They slipped through the wall, then walked quickly down a brightly lit passage. It would take them outside the school proper to the hills above. Their destination? The waterfall above the city. The area felt right; it would be a good place to jump.

  Unfortunately, the best place to jump was right next to the pounding falls. They’d be wet with mist by the time they jumped. What if it didn’t work? Stop it! She quelled the fears tearing her up inside, forcing them into silence. There was no place for debilitating fears now, just enough for caution. This was a way for her to help, and help she would.

  “Are you ready to try the jump?” Analindë turned up to look at Andulmaion. She held his hand once more.

  “Yes. What would you have me do?”

  She decided to try to prep as much as she could away from the falls, and so she began the process of grounding and centering. She felt Andulmaion watch her as she reached deep within herself, settling things in place. She did the best she could at the moment and refused to let his presence fluster her. He didn’t interrupt or comment even though her process must have looked slow and laborious. By the time she’d completely centered, she realized he radiated strength and support.

  “Blend your thought with mine.” She extended a tendril of thought out to him. He connected to it with one of his own. A warm presence linked with her mind, tasting of salt sea air, strong waves and wind. It calmed her. “Come, we need prepare to jump. Hold tight and do not let go.”

  They stepped quickly forward onto the spot that felt right. Puffs of mist buffeted them; they stood strong, not flinching.

  She found the solid strength below them, steadying herself upon it. She pushed from her center, reached down into the stone boulders, and sent out six tendrils of Energy anchoring them one by one into the rocks below. After anchoring the sixth, a short, low-pitched tone resonated around them. Completeness and harmony surrounded them. Then a presence entered her mind.

  «How may I assist?»

  «I– . . . » Analindë didn’t know what to say.

  «It has been quite some time since any elve has called upon me to assist. . . . You did not know I would come?» the rumbling voice asked.

  «No, I didn’t. The book said to anchor myself six times.»

  «And so you should. You attempt to jump, do you not?»

  «Yes.»

  «Hear me now, for elementals in general do not have the time to explain such things to elves that should not have forgotten them in the first place. I will not speak so in the future. Listen closely.

  «Anchor yourself one through five,

  it strengthens your spells and keeps you alive.

  Six calls for help beyond your own,

  we’ll aid in your spell, then leave you alone.

  Seven calls those so much greater,

  capricious they are, but fine educators.

  Few will survive once they’ve anchored eight,

  when need calls its own and connects you with fate.

  Now hear ye these words and be ye forewarned,

  much danger can come to those unadorned.

  We’ll aid when we can, when needs are severe,

  but cryptic, obscure, and never quite clear.

  «Now go.»

  Analindë snatched the bits of song out of the air and tried her best to engrave the elemental’s words into her mind. «Thank you.»

  She fixed her thoughts upon the spot, a short distance ahead of the scouts, the place that had felt like a good place to land. She gripped Arandur’s connection close and with a push of Energy thought the word to jump, «Capanya.»

  She felt as if someone had grabbed her by the heels and turned her upside down to shake her as they hurtled toward their destination. She spun around, then was dropped flat on her face.

  A mind numbing moment later Analindë realized she was lying in a snow bank. A gentle wind tugged at her clothes chilling her. Andulmaion crawled over to her while holding his head as if to stop it from spinning. She was still so firmly anchored to him that his actions were plainly before her.

  He gently rolled her out of a snow bank and brushed the snow off her face and hair while she simply stared at him. “Analindë,” he said intently. «Ana
lindë. We made it; you may let go now.»

  She slowly blinked. “Oh.” She released the ironclad grip she had on his mind; relief stood out starkly on his face, and then she let go of the anchor points she still clung to back at the waterfall.

  “We made it,” she said. A giddy laughter bubbled up from the depths of her.

  “We made it.” A wry grin flashed across his face. He rose and gathered their packs to one side of the road. “Here. Sit on one of these while we wait; it’ll keep you dry and keep you from the cold ground.” He helped her to her feet, then held her arm while she hobbled over to the daypack he’d set upon a low lying rock.

  She chortled quietly as Andulmaion rooted around in one of their packs. She couldn’t believe that they’d made it! It was all too much. Fear and tension dissolved; she couldn’t believe she’d actually done it. They were alive. Her chuckles slowly subsided.

  “The scouts should be here in a moment. I feel them coming around the curve of this trail. There is time for a cup of tea if you wish,” he said.

  “Yes, please.” He brewed enough tea for seven. “You know, I didn’t think I’d actually be able to do it.” He sent her a startled glance.

  “Well, I’m glad you were wrong.” The stars in his eyes made her feel gooey inside.

  “So am I.” She grinned back at him. Her fingers were frozen; she wished he’d hurry with the tea.

  “Did you hear the voice?” she asked.

  “Yes.” She couldn’t read his face as he had his back to her. Finally he turned, bringing the pot with him and a stack of cups. He poured them both a cup and set the pot and remaining cups in the snow, casting a barrier around them to keep the dishes hot and the snow from melting.

  “Analindë, I have heard mention of such powers as this from the books my great ancestor wrote long before the time of the Elven Wars. None has written of them since. I know, because I’ve searched for more information but have found nothing.”

  “I wonder why our people forgot. . . . And the warning he gave?”

  “Elena wrote something like it; great power and great danger threatens the person who uses energies this way. When we get back you should speak with Master Therin. There’s much you have to learn before you go further down this path.”

  She nodded in agreement but had her doubts about Master Therin. “I’ll do as you say, should we live through the coming encounter.” She smiled up at him, squinting against the mid-afternoon sun. He frowned back in response. “Thank you for your support back there. I felt what you did. It helped.” His face softened.

  “You did wonderfully. I couldn’t have asked for more. I suppose I may not be the first to say it, but–”

  “Analindë! What in the stars are you doing here?” A familiar voice cut through the moment. Seconds later a quintet of scouts emerged from the woods and surrounded them.

  “Arandur!” Analindë jumped to her feet, set her cup down, and ran to him. He caught her up, swinging her around as if he’d never thought to see her again.

  He held her slightly away from him. “Analindë dear, I am so sorry for your loss.” He then hugged her quickly again before asking again, “Analindë, what are you doing here? Moreover, how did you get here? Last we heard you were at Mirëdell.”

  “Arandur, we have come to seek your assistance.” Analindë swung her head around to find Andulmaion; he had turned back to the tea and was handing out steaming cups. Arandur’s companions looked grateful for a break in their trek and had settled down in a circle upon the icy trail. She tugged out of Arandur’s hold and pulled him over to Andulmaion who had donned a court mask.

  “Andulmaion, you will tell them of our need?”

  Quite a while later, after Andulmaion had pled for their aid and many questions had been asked and answered, Arandur rose and began to stalk around. None of his comrades acted as if anything was amiss; they simply let him pace while drinking their tea. They had finished three pots thus far and Andulmaion had just risen to brew another when Arandur stopped abruptly.

  “I would that we accompany Analindë and Andulmaion to the abandoned city, but fear that we do so in error. Thalion, Sintriel, what have you to say about their plan?”

  Silence reigned for the length of a breath before Sintriel spoke, “I believe there is wisdom to their plan, and if there is truth in Andulmaion’s knowing, then Master Therin will die when he eventually confronts the wizard himself. Duty would tell us that our choice lies with Analindë and Andulmaion.”

  Thalion added, “If they travel to confront the Humans without us, they’ll be outnumbered. Though Andulmaion has been trained in combat, he is not skilled enough. They will not succeed alone.” Andulmaion’s eyes widened briefly at his supposed lack of prowess before resuming their usual blank, yet amicable, state. Analindë almost laughed, but the gravity of their situation smacked at her. Would she be able to transport them all to the fortress? She began to twist the ring around her finger again, but stopped when Arandur glanced quickly at her hands and then away again.

  “So be it. Thorontur and Morcion, you will both travel around the Mountain City, but at a slower pace than before. Keep up the search in case we’re wrong, then tomorrow mid-morning you may alert the council to an abbreviated version of our plans. Use discretion in what you tell them regarding Andulmaion, then have someone contact Thalion. Sintriel and Thalion, we go with Analindë.”

  Thorontur and Morcion rose to leave. “May the stars be with you,” Thorontur said.

  “May they guide your path,” said Arandur

  “And watch over your strength,” Morcion finished.

  The remaining group watched the two until they had traveled out of sight. Andulmaion turned to Analindë, “Have you strength yet to attempt another jump?”

  Arandur’s head snapped up, “What do you mean, has she the strength?” He glared at the mage. “Analindë cannot be placed in danger. Can’t you make the jump?”

  Andulmaion straightened a little, then shook his head, “I have not the skill.”

  Analindë stepped between them, facing her childhood friend. “Arandur please, I haven’t been a child for some time now, and what was left of the one you knew died that day in the village. There is a need, I have the strength, and I am ready. Come.” She turned on her heel and strode over to her pack. She pulled it on, strapping it close to her body.

  Andulmaion quickly finished putting away the tea things. He pulled both his packs on and checked the sword strapped to his hip.

  Taking a cue from the mages, the scouts followed suit, making sure that their packs were firmly attached to themselves. They followed Analindë and Arandur over to a trampled snow bank.

  “This spot feels right,” she shrugged, looking around to make sure they were all there. “The Energy is strongest here.”

  Andulmaion walked forward and extended a tendril of thought to her. She grasped both the hand and the thought and immediately felt the solid comfort of the wind beside her; the hint of sea eluded her this time. She wondered what he felt when they connected, but hurriedly banked the thought lest it fly out and he should catch it. She grounded and centered herself in no time, then turned to the scouts.

  “Please join hands with us,” she asked.

  Sintriel came forward and grasped her other hand, Arandur at her side; Thalion grasped Andulmaion’s free hand. “Have any of you ever linked minds with another?” asked Analindë. They all replied that they hadn’t.

  “I will be placing an anchor in your mind so that in our travels you are not left behind . . . or wander astray. It won’t hurt, but you will sense something new within your minds. If by chance you have strong shields, please lower them to let me in.” Analindë instructed.

  Sintriel grunted beside her. Analindë felt the shielding in Sintriel’s mind fall where she had noticed none before. Sintriel’s mind sparkled and she drew in a surprised breath. “One day you must show me how you do that.” Analindë gasped.

  Sintriel grinned, “My grandfather taught me how
to shield like that. He was quite proud of my skill.”

  “And so he should be.” Analindë answered with a grin of her own. She gently sent a tendril of Energy out, anchoring it to Sintriel just as if she was anchoring to the stone floor back in the tower. She continued on to Arandur and then to Thalion, repeating the process as she went. None of them resonated as strongly as Andulmaion, but she felt their presence nonetheless.

  “Okay, it will be but a moment now; please don’t interrupt. After I cast the spell you may become a bit dizzy, but it will pass.” Andulmaion smirked at her comment, but said nothing.

  Analindë double-checked her center, then sunk her six anchors into the ground; just as the sixth was set below, a mellow voice that sounded of wood said, «Yes?»

  «If you please. We would jump.»

  In response, Analindë was flooded with the sweet power of the forests surrounding her; for a brief moment she felt the joy of the wind rushing through her leaves, the refreshing drink that came when her roots sank deep into the earth, and contentment from the summer sun gently warming her branches.

  Then she remembered that she wasn’t a tree.

  She marshaled her drifting thoughts and firmly fixed a spot in her mind. The place that felt right was on the far side of a sand dune, just outside of the abandoned city.

  «Thank you,» She said to the woodland elemental. Analindë fixed the target destination in her mind once more, clasped her comrades even tighter, and with a push of Energy said, «Capanya.»

  This time the jump lasted longer; they spun around hurtling along through inky black space. At long last they reached the dune and they saw light again. This time, expecting the jarring travel and landing, Analindë was able to keep everyone from being flung in different directions.