The Shards

by Gary Alan Wassner

  “You tease me, brother. Do you think that silly compliments will gain you mercy?” he asked. “Harbor no such illusions. They will only frustrate you.” He turned his back on his brother.

  “Mercy? Why would I expect mercy from you? I would kill you this instant if I could myself.”

  “Still so honest. Time has not changed you?” Colton asked, facing him once more.

  “I remain constant. It is you who cannot find your peace amidst the changes.”

  “And so you understand! Soon, things will change no more. The fabric will cease to weave,” he said in a far off tone.

  “I am tired, Colton,” Premoran said, and he closed his eyes. “You have neither been strong enough to change things, nor to cope with things as they are. Indeed you must suffer all the time.”

  “Are you trying to provoke me?” he wagged a long finger at the captive man. “You will die when I decide to kill you and no sooner, so it is unnecessary to waste what little strength you have left on my behalf. You shall not force me to dispatch you sooner than I choose.”

  “I have known you all of my life. I expect no compassion from you. But I will not be grateful to you for my life. My work is done. The boy is free and the fabric weaves of its own will once again. Do not your failures ever cause you to question your strength?” he provoked him.

  Colton laughed a hideous laugh that echoed off of the stone walls interminably. He rose into the air so that he was face to face with his brother.

  “The trees have forsaken him,” he hissed through his full, blood red lips. “I thought you would have known by now that they conspire with me?” he said, staring deep into Premoran’s eyes.

  Premoran felt as if he had been hit with a battering ram. Colton allowed his brother to probe his mind briefly, as he knew that he would. The result was even more devastating.

  He speaks the truth! Premoran thought, astounded. This cannot be. They would never do that. But I saw it in his mind! I heard them speak to him!

  He gasped for breath, and he felt his heart beating very quickly within his chest. Suddenly, the pain became almost unbearable, and he realized just how close to the limit his physical self was being stretched. He looked at his brother’s face once more, and then he immediately regretted it. Colton floated before him, and the corners of his mouth were turned up into a horrifying smile. The Dark Lord bent his head toward him and leaned in close until Premoran could feel his hot, rancid breath wafting over him.

  “The end is near. It is inevitable now,” he said quietly. “Will you share the final moments with me?” the Dark Lord whispered in his ear.

  Chapter Nine

  Caroline lay upon her back on the blanket and stared up into the night sky. She had first spread her mat on the soft snow that shrouded the entire field before placing the woven covering down. The warm wool coupled with the tight mesh of the mat kept the chill from radiating upward, and she remained cozy and comfortable despite the freezing temperature.

  The stars were as bright as ever, and she searched for a shooting one, a sign of good luck, but the heavens did not oblige her this evening. During warmer times, she would lay here for hours on this soft and sheltered knoll until she fell asleep, waking with the dawn. Then she would return to her house, the beautiful cabin that her father constructed stone by stone and stick by stick, and begin her morning chores. Unfortunately, the winter seemed to have arrived much earlier this season, and the snows and winds were heavier and stronger than she had ever seen before.

  This evening was no different than the multitude of others that preceded it the past few weeks, but Caroline had no complaints. Though her life was simple and quiet, it was never boring. She had the trees and the animals to communicate with, and thus she never lacked for companionship. She also had her father, and she adored him, everything about him! He was noble and strong, honest and wise, and brave and gentle. He brought a smile to her delicate and flawless face whenever she thought of him.

  Caroline was merely two tiels and four, though she had the look of a far more mature woman. She carried herself with dignity, always holding her graceful head high and proud, though without the slightest hint of haughtiness or arrogance. Her hair reached almost to the ground, and it flowed down her back in waves of glistening auburn, and her eyes were bright green. They always sparkled, just like fine emeralds do when they are illuminated by bright rays of light. She had a small, slightly turned up nose and ruby red lips that stood out markedly against her porcelain skin. No matter how often or for how long she lay in the sun, her skin color remained as white as new snow, seemingly immune to the effects of nature.

  Father must certainly think that I am a dolt! she thought. I sit here for hours staring up at the sky. Perhaps I am! She laughed. But it is so beautiful. I cannot imagine that anything could be as beautiful as the stars.

  Her father never stopped her from indulging herself in this way. He rarely told her what to do anymore. After her chores were done and the animals were tended to, she was free to wander and weave, read and play as she wished. She loved him dearly; he was the world to her. Caroline never knew her mother, nor did her father ever speak of her other than guardedly and briefly, and she never questioned him about the woman, though her interest was growing steadily as she grew older. She often wondered now why he hardly mentioned her, why it appeared to pain him so when the subject came up, but she respected his silence. She trusted his judgment, and she believed that the moment would come one day when he would be able to reveal to her what yet seemed so hard for him to disclose.

  They never traveled very far. Conrad, her father, told her that they lived in the most beautiful place in the entire world and so there was no reason to leave it. He provided her with anything she wanted, though her needs were few, and they never lacked for food, despite the snow covered ground and cold, cold weather during the fall and winter months. He also told her that she should avoid contact with people at all costs; that they were dangerous and always to be avoided. In fact, she had never even seen any other beings like herself and her father for more than a brief second or two, and then only from a considerable distance. Her father kept them well away from her those few times anyone wandered into their realm.

  She kept herself busy with her animal friends, perfecting their skills at communication and studying the heavens and the stars. She maintained a small garden of healing herbs and flowers, she grew vegetables when the weather permitted and she sang; she so loved to sing! Occasionally she would learn about the world outside from a bird or a fox that had chanced upon other creatures during their travels or migrations. But, as her father had warned her many times before, others who resembled herself were feared and loathed by her animal confidants, and so she too developed a natural and instinctive suspicion of anything human or human-like.

  Lately, nevertheless, Caroline was growing inquisitive about what lay beyond the perimeter of her wanderings despite all of what she had learned of the outside world second hand. Her father had insisted that she spend every night in the cabin or upon the grounds nearby, so she never roamed too far during her daily travels. At sixteen years of age, her curiosity was growing steadily now, but her father turned a deaf ear to her pleas for an opportunity to journey with him on one of his many trips away from home. In fact, as she grew up, he grew more and more adamant about her staying close to home and far away from any contact with the world outside of her own small and confined one. When she questioned him as to why, he withdrew and his face took on a horrid and ugly expression as if he had tasted the most sour of fruits, and her interest waxed in direct proportion to his increasing reluctance to discuss it. She knew that he would not cave in to her requests in this regard, so she ostensibly accepted his restrictions. But, she could not suppress her longing to learn more about exactly what he was so indisposed to reveal.

  As she lay flat upon her back, she heard a rustling sound in the distance and she let her mind’s voice reach out to it.

  Who goes there? Is it you, Feala?
Or you Amak?

  The sound continued, though the animals she called out to did not respond. Rather, a strange mix of cryptic half-words, images and emotions flooded her mind. She was certain that whatever responded to her inquiry had never conversed before. Caroline had learned over the short span of her life that speaking in words was not natural to anyone but those sentient beings who customarily communicated out loud. She had to teach her animal friends how to understand her and how to reply. Though they uttered things all of the time, the sounds served as no more than self-expression, a commentary of sorts on how and what they were feeling, until she showed them the way to organize their thoughts and recall their images after the fact. The sounds she just heard were like those of her friends before she taught them properly.

  It is most definitely a horse that I hear, she thought. The noises are unmistakable. He does not yet know how to speak, she giggled.

  Caroline stood up and looked in the direction that she suspected the babble had originated from, and sure enough, in the distance she could see the silhouette of a riderless horse, saddled and laden with packs with its reins hanging down.

  A human’s captive! What is this animal doing out here? I wonder what happened to the rider, she thought, eyeing the area around her. Her heart began to beat double-time. The horse seems unconcerned. Maybe he left him behind a long while ago. Could a human really have wandered all the way here? People never come here!

  She walked over to the standing animal and rubbed her hand tenderly down its mane, flipping the thick hair over to the other side. At the same time, she spoke to it silently and soothingly. It immediately lifted its nose to her face in recognition and whinnied in a startled response. Caroline had become adept at the art of communication in this manner, and she knew to proceed slowly so as not to frighten the animal. A horse’s mind was limited, and though she was perfectly able to ‘speak’ with it in her own way, horses usually cared only about a few things. Their perspective was narrow, despite their tremendous affections and sense of loyalty. Some good, fresh grass, water, a comfortable girth and saddle and a rider who did not constantly jab them in the belly were their primary concerns. She did encounter a great war horse once whose sense of self was quite elevated and different from all the others she had met. He even spoke to her of his accomplishments on the field of battle as she guided him through his past as best she could, and Caroline was immensely impressed with his magnanimity and his regal demeanor. But for the most part, horses had little to say and less to argue about, though they were almost always gentle and friendly nevertheless.

  She learned from this gelding that he had a strong affection for the one who had harnessed him, and she found that very odd. It did not make sense to her that the horse could like a human! Whenever she listened to her other friends speak about men, they did so with loathing in their hearts. This animal was actually fond of whomever it was that lead him here, though he was content nonetheless to graze.

  Caroline spoke to him silently, slowly inserting her thoughts into his stream of consciousness, and she began to develop a picture, though proportionately quite different from her visual reality, of what the absent human looked like. Through the horse’s mind, the images barely looked human, but she knew from previous experience with others of his kind that objects appeared to be much larger to him than they actually were. Still, she could see the image of a face that was not unbecoming; a man’s face, though his ears were sharp and pointed and his eyes slanted upward, unlike her own or her father’s. His hair was auburn colored and rather long, and he wore clothing like nothing she had seen before.

  She urged the animal to tell her something more about him, about his personality and whether he was as dangerous as her father had always led her to believe that strangers were. Caroline immediately felt pangs of guilt for doubting him, but she could not help but ask. The impression of the rider that she was receiving bore no hint of evil, no sign of peril in the slightest, and she had come to know that animals did not lie. Some species were far more sophisticated than others, but none had ever communicated anything but the truth as they saw it, and it was up to her to interpret their intuitions. Cruelty and meanness were always evident immediately, as were kindness and tenderheartedness, though often good traits were confused with bad ones if the beast was hungry and the rider or master was in a rush to get somewhere. Caroline needed to exercise her discretion often lest she be misled by inaccurate motives. But, in this case the message was clear and uncomplicated, and she quickly grew fond of the man this horse recalled in a jumble of feelings and images.

  Is he alive still, I wonder? The animal’s memories are yet fresh and clear. It cannot be that long ago since they were separated.

  There were some things animals could not tell her, and an understanding of the future or where people and things were when they were not directly within their view was one of them. Horses particularly, were weak at ‘speculation.’

  She perused the ground around the young animal and began to follow his footprints in the snow. Luckily, no new flakes had fallen in almost an entire day, so she could spot the hoof prints easily. She traced them for some time until she finally saw a crumpled body lying sideways upon the frozen ground up ahead. She ran to catch up to it in order to see if the person was hurt badly, for surely he did not fall and remain there voluntarily, but as she neared him she hesitated.

  Father has warned me so many times. Should I be doing this? she thought. Perhaps I should go back and tell him and bring him out here. But, what if the traveler is hurt? What if I have discovered him just in time to save him? I must try to help. Besides, his horse cares for him too much for him to be dangerous!

  Caroline tiptoed up to the prone body and slowly knelt down beside it. His face was far more beautiful than the horse’s distorted image conveyed. His eyelids were closed and his exposed skin and all of his clothing were lightly covered in soft snow. There was no sign of blood on the ground, though his clothing could have concealed it, but it was clear that he was not merely sleeping. It was also obvious that he had not been lying there for all that long. She saw a bow lying upon the ground nearby, and the sight of the weapon made her heart beat faster.

  He is a warrior, I suspect, she thought. Could he have been felled in battle? Are there others? she wondered and grew concerned that some more dangerous humans might be lurking about nearby.

  She quickly perused the ground all around searching for a sign of a fight or the footprints of others of his kind, but there were no markings but those of his own and his steed’s. She breathed a bit more easily for the moment, and she continued to look at the handsome man. Carefully, she reached over and pushed a lock of his hair off of his face and behind his ear. As she did so, she realized with a start that his ears were quite pointed, so unlike her own and her father’s.

  “An elf!” she said aloud, shattering the silence with her unexpected words. “Father has mentioned these beings to me!”

  As she continued to gaze upon him, she began to feel things that she had never felt before. When dealing with animals, she had always had to coax them to remain consistent and organized in their ‘thinking’, to guide them so that she could participate in their images. In this case, entire streams of images began to flood her mind, though they were fuzzy edged and disordered; uncontrolled and unguided by a wakeful mind, like in a dream. In addition, she seemed to feel the joy and the sorrow of his recollections much more intensely than she ever did in her previous encounters with animals whose capacity to retain the past was so much more limited than this elf’s was.

  Caroline fought to keep her eyes open, but she was being overtaken by the images flooding his brain. She knew that something dangerous and daring was happening but she could not control it. His thoughts consumed her and drew her in so quickly that she was unable to put up even a semblance of a defense. She collapsed beside him and her head fell upon his chest, swollen with his dreams. She was being drawn deeper and deeper into his reality, losing herself within h
is visions, while becoming no less than a part of his unconscious thought process, and she could do nothing to prevent it. She felt herself slip away so unexpectedly as if all the breath had been suddenly sucked from her body, and she could not move even a muscle. In an instant, the conscious entity that had been Caroline was gone entirely.

  “Caroline? Where are you?” her father called from a distance, but she could no longer hear his voice. She had already lost herself inside of the silent visitor’s mind, and another’s memory guided her. “Caroline! Daughter!” he yelled anxiously, seeing the bodies lying upon the ground ahead, near where the stranger’s horse stood grazing.

  As he ran towards them, he grew more and more agitated. By the time he reached her side and saw her closed eyes and limp body he was frantic.

  “Caroline! Look at me, child!” he screamed. “This cannot be happening. I cannot lose another to this accursed power.” He lifted her in his arms. Carefully, he separated her from the stranger’s body upon which her head lay. “Speak to me! Say something! Come back, my darling. Come back to me!” He removed his gloves and rubbed snow on her unresponsive face. Tears ran down his cheeks and froze in thin, opalescent streaks.

  “Why did you not listen to me? You cannot be near outsiders! I told you that! Your power is a curse! It will kill you as it killed her!” he sobbed.

  Conrad turned to the motionless stranger and kicked him in the leg.

  “Wake up! It is your fault. You cannot die! If you die, I will lose my daughter forever just as I lost her mother!” he yelled harshly.

  He placed Caroline gently over the saddle of the nearby horse and returned to the stricken elf. The distraught man lifted him up as well as if he was weightless, and hoisted him over his own shoulder.

  “Keep breathing!” he said in the elf’s ear as if his will alone could keep him alive.