Twilight of the Elves

by Zack Loran Clark

  Suddenly, Mousebane shot up, the fur on her tail exploding out into a bludgeon of fluff. She yowled and hissed at the wayshelter’s open front door, claws out and scratching at the air.

  “Fel . . .” Liza warned, pulling her sword free from her belt. “Maybe you should bolt the door.”

  But the young elf was already backing away, a look of deep shock on her face. “Oh, no,” she whimpered. “No, it can’t be.”

  There was a loud creak as the wayshelter’s front door edged open. Purple light spilled into the cramped space, radiating from a tall, ragged figure. The elven ghost was almost transparent, just as the ban’shea had been, but gripped within its hand was a very solid-looking longsword, rusted and pitted by use. Its head lolled slightly to one side, and two milky eyes stared blankly forward. The very sight of it seemed to drain the strength from Zed. His arms grew heavy, and his vision blurred.

  “A wraith,” Fel said. “A spirit of despair, risen to haunt the living. I saw some of them drain the life from their own family members as they fled the city. And this one . . . it looks like . . .”

  Once, the male elf’s skin had been dark, his long braided hair streaked with silver. Now, the wraith seemed to be fraying at the edges. Its feet floated inches above the floor. The ghost raised its free hand and pointed a thin finger right at Fel.

  “My father,” Fel finished.

  “Zed!” Liza shouted. “Fire!”

  Zed could barely hear the order. Something about the presence of the Danger filled him with gloom, sapping him of the will to move. He fought against the torpor. Zed raised his scepter, drawing upon his mana, and sent a gush of green flames pouring out. It billowed uselessly over the wraith, which barely seemed to notice. Its empty eyes just followed Fel as she retreated farther back into the room.

  “Felasege . . .” A rasping voice issued out from the Danger, though its desiccated mouth never opened. “Where are you? Do not be afraid. There is no pain.”

  “Father,” Fel said, shaking her head. “What has the Lich done to you?”

  “No pain,” the wraith repeated. “Felasege . . . Am I here? I feel . . . nothing at all.” Then it raised its rusted longsword high into the air and lurched forward with shocking speed.

  Jayna weakly lifted her hands to conjure a Wizard’s Shield, but fell to her knees. All around Zed, the other apprentices were similarly slumping over, suffering from the Danger’s sapping presence. With a cry of effort, Jayna threw her hands up again, and a barrier blossomed in front of the ghost, pungent with magic. The wraith’s blade careened violently off the shield and ricocheted away, but despite the elf’s thin frame and wasted arms, it held firm to the blade. Slowly, with a piercing sound, it dragged the sword back across the floor to its side.

  “Daughter . . . where are you?”

  The ghost jerked forward again. It wavered for a moment at the magic barrier, as if pushing against a great wind. Then the wraith flickered through the shield, passing bodilessly to the other side. The rusted blade clattered to the floor behind it.

  “Why do I feel nothing?” The wraith raised both hands, its fingers fumbling blindly through the air. It shivered, then jerked toward Fel.

  “Stay back!” Jett shouted, somehow finding the strength to step between them. The dwarf swung his hammer in front of him, but it passed right through the figure and pitched Jett into the cots along with it.

  Now nothing stood between the ghost and Fel. It hovered inches away from her. Fel sank back against the wall with wide, fearful eyes. The wraith bent forward, its long fingers reaching, as if to caress her face.

  “FelasaaaaaaaHHHHHHH!”

  There was an explosive rush of amber light, so dazzling against the purple that for a moment Zed was blinded. He held his hand up against the glare, before thinking to question how he even had the strength to do so. Where the aura of the ghost had drained him, this new light flooded him with vitality. Zed leaped up to his feet, and saw the others were as well. Liza, Brock, Jayna, and Jett. Everyone except . . .

  Micah stood behind the ghost, his fist extended and outlined in brilliant gold light. It looked like he’d punched right through the wraith. Where his arm made contact with it, the Danger’s shape began to bubble, then fizzle away into purple smoke.

  “I feel . . . warm,” the wraith rasped. “Fel, I . . . I can see you. How beautiful you’ve . . .”

  But before it could finish, the specter dissolved completely away, leaving only an echo and a wisp of vapor.

  Slowly, the glow outlining Micah’s hand faded, and he slumped forward unsteadily, panting. His hair was slick with sweat, as if he’d just finished a particularly punishing day of Lotte’s drills.

  “Micah!” Zed rushed to the boy, with Liza just beside him. The two managed to lower him onto a nearby cot, while Jayna hurried to Fel and wrapped a cloak around her shoulders.

  “What,” exclaimed Brock, “was that?”

  Jett shook his head in wonder. “Zed’s fire couldn’t touch the ghost, but Micah . . . Did you destroy it with a healing punch?”

  “Take a moment,” Liza said to her brother. “Catch your breath.”

  “No time,” Micah huffed. “Unfortunately, you dweebs were right again. We have to get to Lletherol.”

  “Llethanyl,” Zed corrected.

  “Whatever. I think . . . I think that I might be the best chance we have of saving the city.”

  They wasted no more time. As soon as Micah could stand, the apprentices gathered their gear and left the wayshelter, edging carefully around the milky green stone. Fel led them forward, her eyes scanning the woods. Even Mousebane insisted on walking on her own four feet, keeping a watchful eye on their surroundings.

  Zed had imagined that Fel would lead them back to the Broken Roads, but instead she guided the team through snowy woodlands, saying it would be better to avoid the obvious path. Eventually the trees opened into a sprawling steppe.

  The snow was thinner here, and the plain was blanketed with dry grass that came up to Zed’s knees. It billowed and whistled in the wind, slowing their progress, but Zed found he could see far into the distance. It was an odd, heady experience—to see so far, with no walls or trees to interrupt the view.

  Every now and then, Fel stopped the group to survey the area, ordering the others low while she and Mousebane scanned the horizon. Hours passed without a single undead sighting.

  A stark line of mountains loomed in their path, much closer than Zed had realized from the forest. He’d never been so close to anything so colossal. The enormity of those peaks made him feel strangely fragile. Zed remembered the Danger they’d seen—the one that had looked like a mountaintop from far away. The sheer scale of such a creature had nearly drowned him in dread.

  The world was so much bigger than Zed. Than all of civilization combined, he imagined. These mountains had seen the rise and fall of kingdoms. They had witnessed the Day of Dangers, and any number of calamities before it. Now they watched a train of children marching across the valley, children who hoped that by some miracle they could save one precious city from the same fate that had befallen so many others. That would eventually befall every city, in time. The fact that Zed was here at all, walking this journey and taking this in, seemed itself like a sort of miracle.

  The apprentices were all quiet. Liza walked at the rear of the line, with Micah huffing just in front of her. Zed marched behind Fel, watching her long steps and determined gaze. In that moment, she reminded him very much of Callum.

  “Fel, are you all right?” Zed ventured, calling over the wind.

  “Hmm? Oh yes. Fine.” The girl turned and the hardness in her face melted away for a moment, winter flowering into summer. But Fel couldn’t sustain the smile for long. It was gone before she’d turned away.

  “It’s fine if you’re not all right, you know,” Zed said. “You’ve had . . . a bad week.”

  Fel coughed out a laugh that seemed on the verge of caving in.

  “Do you want to talk about hi
m?” he pushed on. “About your father?”

  Fel’s gaze became vague, and her eyebrows scrunched together. “We’re almost to Llethanyl. Maybe there will be time to talk when this is all over.”

  “He really seemed to love you. Even after . . . Well, even now.”

  “That wasn’t really him,” Fel said huskily. She breathed out a blossom of steam that blew away as soon as it had formed. “A ghost is just an echo, some strong emotion the person harbored in life that Mort’s energy latches on to.”

  “Then that strong emotion must have been love,” Zed said. “Because the ghost seemed to love you a lot.”

  Fel hesitated, then nodded slowly. “And the Lich used that against us. Against me.” She subtly wiped at her eyes.

  Zed frowned, his mind whirring. Fel was right. The Lich had known to target her, and right where she’d be.

  “What about you, then?” she asked. “Do you want to talk about your father . . . or Callum?”

  “You know what?” Zed said. “I think you’re right. Let’s save the father talk for later.”

  This time when Fel laughed, it sounded a bit surer. “Let me just say this one thing. . . .” The girl bit her lip nervously, but then sighed and nodded. “Callum can be . . . oh, what’s the human word? Locked? Cagey! He feels everything intensely, but he keeps those emotions bottled up. I used to think it was because he’s the High Ranger, but I’ve changed my mind. I think something hurt him a long time ago. Hurt him more than he could handle. And I think he’s been running from that hurt ever since.”

  Zed frowned hard at the grass whipping across his legs, his eyes tracking each step as he took it.

  “He volunteered to lead your apprentice journey,” Fel continued. “And let me tell you a little secret about Callum: He is not the type to babysit. He’s been watching out for you in his own way.” Fel’s eyes flicked back to Zed, then down to the rustling grass that indicated Mousebane prowling below. “You and I both know what it’s like to lose family, Zed. To wish we had just one more chance to see them, to hug them . . . to forgive them. If a chance like that presents itself, don’t miss it.”

  In that moment, Zed resolved that he wouldn’t.

  After a time, Fel raised her hand, making a sharp hissing sound with her teeth. Zed and the others dropped immediately, crouching in the reeds. Fel pointed to a spot in the distance.

  Squinting, Zed could just make out a line of about a dozen figures. He couldn’t see many details, but their movements left little doubt as to what they were. The figures lurched and swayed—the same strange, uneven gait Zed had seen among the undead during the attack on camp.

  The apprentices waited a long while for the figures to move across the steppe, barely daring to breathe. And they waited even longer after they’d disappeared into the distance.

  Finally, Fel rose, signaling forward with two fingers. Zed and the others followed without a word.

  Eventually they arrived at the mountainside, where the grass cleared and Zed’s feeling of smallness multiplied. Looking up, he found himself awash with vertigo, even with his feet planted firmly on the ground. Fel led the team to a cleft in the mountain, where a single skeletal tree was perched, as if in vigil.

  “This is one of the back ways into the city,” Fel said, once the team had all gathered around the tree. “We’ve gotten lucky so far, but once we enter here, Llethanyl will be swarming with the dead.”

  Micah searched around, taking in the apparently solid mountainside and single tree. “You want me to make a snide comment, is what’s happening here—before you pull whatever magic branch opens the mountain. I’m not going to fall for it.”

  Fel did look slightly disappointed. “Llethanyl is situated in a valley on the other side of the mountain. There are several entrances in or out, where our mages distorted space to allow groups to slip through. This is one of the lesser known entrances. Callum’s tracks lead here.”

  “I didn’t notice any tracks,” Brock said.

  Fel smiled. “No, you wouldn’t have. He left them for me to find.” She stepped to the tree and placed her palm against the bark. “Lleth anyl,” Fel said somberly.

  “Lleth elan,” a rich elven voice answered. Zed caught a sharp whiff of magic just as the stones behind them began to change. The mountainside warped, like a puzzle where a simple shift in perspective revealed new shapes hidden in the relief. Once, gray crags of rock had attended them, but now an enormous arch towered over the apprentices. Fel turned, eyeing the great door appreciatively. It loomed ten feet tall and was decorated with a tree and a crown of birds.

  “He’s been here,” she said. “And recently. Let’s hope we aren’t walking into an ambush.” She pushed against the door, and it swung open with a ponderous sound. Fel disappeared inside.

  Zed glanced back at the others, who were all still staring up at the archway. Then he followed Fel into the dark.

  And it was dark. As soon as he’d stepped into the tunnel, or whatever it was, the world went totally black. Zed turned around to find the entrance had disappeared, leaving him immersed alone in the gloom. Panic clenched immediately at his throat.

  “Fel?” Zed called.

  “I’m right here!” The night elf’s voice echoed from up ahead. “It’s all part of the enchantment. Just keep moving.”

  “Where are you guys?” Jett’s voice hailed from nearby. “It sounds like you’re right next to me.”

  “We are,” Fel said. “We’re all here together, but the spell makes us feel alone. Follow the sound of my voice.”

  Zed took a tentative, terrified step forward. Walking in pure darkness felt unnatural. He waved his arms around him, expecting to encounter walls of some kind—the rocks of the mountain at least—but his fingers passed through empty air.

  “Keep moving,” Fel said. “It’s not very far. It’s important not to dawdle on the path. Getting lost is possible, and it’s not a good idea.” Then she began to sing. It was a cheerful little song in the elven language, and though Zed couldn’t understand a word of it, it comforted him just to hear Fel’s voice.

  So Zed moved, though every part of him screamed not to. One foot in front of the other, he trudged through the darkness.

  “This is fascinating magic,” Jayna’s voice called out. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”

  “It’s a very ancient spell, I think,” Fel answered, pausing in her singing. “Like Freestone’s wards, our mages feed mana into it regularly. It’s just one of the magical protections my people use.”

  “The darkness is intense,” Micah said. “I can’t blast through it.”

  “Micah!” Liza barked. “Stop. Wasting. Your anima!”

  “Sorry, Mom.”

  “We’re here, anyway,” Fel said. “Just a few more steps.”

  It didn’t take Zed even that long. One step and suddenly the black curtain was pulled away. For a moment, the light was overwhelming. Zed squinted against it. Then, muddy shapes took form. Fel stood in front of him, beaming, and behind her Zed noticed other figures gathered together behind a stone outcropping.

  Frond caught sight of him first. She nodded, looking even more ragged than the last time he’d seen her. A dark stain of something had caked over her leathers. Hexam was bandaging Lotte, who grimaced and gingerly held her arm aloft.

  Behind them, the elven retinue were huddled together: Queen Me’Shala, Selby, Threya, and Callum, all currently engaged in what looked like an intense discussion.

  A wide valley glutted with trees expanded into the distance, but above Zed rose the most spectacular skyline he had ever witnessed. Llethanyl was a city cut from glass. Its towers sparkled under the gray sky like multicolored crystals. Silken canopies waved gently in the wind, and an enormous oak tree climbed up from the city’s center, a great hand reaching into the air. The tree was bare now in winter, but hundreds of lanterns, intricately folded to look like birds, drifted among its branches.

  For all its beauty, however, Llethanyl was empty of life. Th
e lanterns were dark and the city intensely quiet, except for the wind howling through the valley. Squinting into the distance, Zed couldn’t spot a single moving figure. It was an exquisite ruin: pale and lovely and totally dead.

  Callum glanced distractedly from his conversation, turned back, then whipped around again. His phosphorescent eyes radiated relief. The High Ranger burst away from the queen, and in just a few loping steps had made his way to Zed, wrapping him in an embrace that felt downright familial.

  “You’re safe,” Zed heard him whisper, muffled by his shoulder. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

  “Callum,” Fel said. “We have so much to tell you. There’s a city of—”

  “Just a moment,” Callum said. “I want to hear everything, I do, but the situation here is complicated.” He pulled away from Zed, his large eyes wet with emotion.

  Frond joined them, placing her soiled hand right on Zed’s shoulder. He tried not to imagine what the stain was. “Did you all make it?” she said. “Every apprentice?”

  Zed nodded, turning around. “We all made it,” he said. Behind him, the others were congregated together, staring wide-eyed at the city that rose above them. Liza, Micah, Jayna, and Jett. And . . .

  Zed turned, searching the outcropping.

  “Brock,” he said. “Wh-where’s Brock?”

  Brock Dunderfel was gone.

  The darkness spoke to Brock in his father’s voice.

  It wasn’t anything so dramatic as a wraith. But in that dark space, in the utter absence of all light and sound, Brock felt fear blossom in his chest like a flower of ice. The tiny voice in the back of his head, the one that spoke up whenever he doubted himself, was now all he could hear. And that voice just happened to sound an awful lot like his dad.

  Over the many years when Brock had been training for a place in the Merchants Guild, his father had been on constant guard against Brock’s attempts to cut corners. With summer outside his window and the children of Freestone running free, Brock would do anything he could to get through his assignments faster. But with speed came mistakes, and on more than one occasion Brock’s haste had backfired. On those days he was forced to stay at his small desk performing calculations well past the time the sun disappeared below the town wall and lanterns were lit across the city. And his father would say I hope you learned your lesson, son. There are no shortcuts in life.