by Adam Thomas
“Friends,” she began, and her voice sounded far away and close by at the same time, like someone talking from a boat near the shore. Her chosen word of greeting rang true, and the B-Team relaxed their hold on their weapons.
“I am the spirit of Ashlyra, chief of the Forever Sky Clan. You are in the tomb of my body and what had been the prison of my soul – until now. You have freed my spirit from the chains of Wrenyvar, and for that I am eternally grateful.”
Alurel stepped forward. “We are glad to serve, Honored Ancestor.” She bowed deeply. “Please, hearing your story would be a blessing to us.”
Ashlyra’s spirit spread her arms wide. Something even brighter than her incorporeal body glowed in her right hand. “My people were the descendants of the Olon of ancient times, the giants who themselves descended from the world-shaping titans. We lived long in the land under the forever sky. But all things must come to an end. Most of my people were peaceful, living among the trees of the great forest or out on the wide open plains. But one clan desired power over all of us, which was never our way. The leader was the greatest warrior of my time and the most bloodthirsty. Wrenyvar was his name.
“Once the humans began exploring westward from their land of Torniel, Wrenyvar tried to convince us to band together and drive them out. But the land was vast and we were few. For some unknown reason, we had lost the ability to bear children, and so the last of us were living out our days until we were gathered home to our ancestors. The human settlers were tranquil and curious about our ways. I did not see them as the threat that Wrenyvar saw. But he convinced many that the humans were the cause of our childlessness, and he massacred them.
“His so-called victory made Wrenyvar bold. He began seeking ways to prolong his life, delving into necromancy and pacts with unknown forces. I tried to call our people back to peaceful ways, back from the brink of madness where Wrenyvar had led them. But my days were numbered. I used all my considerable healing magic to restore Wrenyvar to some semblance of sanity. Nothing worked. The patient must want to be healed for such magic to take hold.
“I died and was buried in this mound, the last chief of a storied people. I do not know what happened next, not until Wrenyvar’s followers brought his bones and laid them on top of mine, desecrating my tomb with their vile, unnatural magics. They bound my spirit and used it as the focus of their ritual. And they killed themselves in order to bring their leader back. But something went wrong, and only his skeleton gained the mockery of life that is undead animation. Still, my spirit was bound within a tainted gem, providing unwilling energy to Wrenyvar’s undeath.
“But now you have come and liberated my spirit. My gratitude knows no bounds.”
Ashlyra fell silent, and the silence permeated the burial chamber for a long moment. At length, Alurel said, “Honored Ancestor, thank you for sharing your story. We knew nothing of you or your people when we came here.”
Rhys waved the brochure. “We knew a little.”
Alurel cocked her head to one side and smirked at him. “We did not know you were imprisoned here in your own tomb, but we are glad our path brought us this way and allowed us to free you.”
Ashlyra’s spirit bowed her head, and her dancing hair made a halo around her. “I see you have found the ironwood implements that were buried with me, a custom of my people, but one that took on more significance with my burial.”
“Ironwood?” Alurel repeated.
The spirit’s echoing voice dropped lower and trembled with sadness. “It pains me to say that Wrenyvar was right about one thing. While the human settlers were peaceful, they unwittingly brought with them a plague. The ironwoods were the tallest, oldest, and most majestic trees of the great forest. But within a year of the settlers’ arrival, the first ironwoods began showing their sickness.
“The ironwoods were so named because their wood was harder than metal. It would not burn, and only the youngest branches were soft enough for an axe to bite into them. We revered the ironwoods because they reminded us of our titanic ancestors. But the humans brought something – an insect, a virus, we never knew – and it turned the hard wood of the great trees soft. Every ironwood in the forest was dead or dying before we knew what was happening.
“The tools you have found are some of the last items made from ironwood by the Forever Sky Clan. I would be honored if you would keep them and use them. Take them as a sign of my thanks. The wand was my own most treasured possession. Use it well.”
Emric held up the slim piece of ironwood. “I shall,” he said. “Thank you for such a queenly gift.”
“And perhaps one more gift,” Ashlyra said. “Or should I say, not a gift, but a quest.” She opened her ghostly hand which held the glowing ball of light. “In the bones of my hand you will find something of infinitely greater value than all else. It is the last ironwood seed gathered by the Forever Sky Clan, dormant these long centuries, but still holding the potential for life. It was buried with me as a symbol of hope. Take it. Sprout it in water undefiled by any sickness. Plant it where it will grow tall and strong as a tribute to my people.”
Alurel gently pulled up Ashlyra’s top hand, revealing a large, slate gray seed, dimpled and oblong. She took it and held it in the palms of both her hands. “You do us great honor in trusting us with your hope.”
“The ironwoods are gone. My people are gone. But the seed remains. Grow it, and some part of us will be remembered.”
Shonasir had been quiet since the spirit appeared. But now they stepped forward, for they were a Parth elf, one who grew up on the water. They asked, “What water is safe? After all these years, every body of water must bear the contaminant, even the Verinon Par in my homeland.”
Ashlyra smiled down at Shonasir. “Ah, one of the Long-Lived. I regret the mountains separated our peoples. What few encounters we had with your kind always filled me with wonder. I cannot answer your question, for if we had found a way to preserve the ironwoods, we would have.”
Sorvek said, “Where does the ice for your elemental come from, Shonasir? I bet that’s as pure as it gets.”
“I honestly couldn’t tell you,” the elf said. “Ever since this power awakened in me, I’ve been meaning to research it, but we’ve been a little busy.”
Emric sniffed in a great breath through his nose and let it out slowly through clenched teeth. “I think I might know,” he said.
Ashlyra’s spirit began to melt away. “Go in peace,” she said. “And remember my people who loved this land long ago.”
The spectral image disappeared, leaving the chamber feeling cold and lifeless. Alurel hugged the seed close to her chest. For so long she had been wandering, adrift on a sea with tiny islands of purpose and no mainland in sight. But Ashlyra’s words had lightened her soul with intent, and now she knew what she must do. She would plant this seed safely in the ground, and in a hundred years when she was gone, it would stand tall and strong, piercing the forever sky.
The B-Team retraced their steps out of the burial mound. Rhys brought up the rear, his new sword held against his shoulder. They exited the tunnel and replaced the stone, sealing away Ashlyra’s bones, along with the now truly dead bones of her foes. They had retrieved the luranko for Elsany and received a new quest from the spirit. And something else. The ground around them was covered in new grass, emerald green and sparkling with dew. The lifeless mound had been transformed.
Sorvek, Shonasir, Emric, and Alurel laughed in surprise and ran up the mound to the top. The circle of death was gone. Rhys ambled up the hill after them, but he was distracted, and the beauty of the new grass brought no light to his eyes.
Something was whispering to him from the sword, a voice, deep and malevolent.
Tyrevane belongs to you now. Use my blade well.
thirteen days until festival
Rosamund, Mad Scientist
My apologies for disturbing you, ma’am, b
ut a courier is at the door.” Heinrich’s officious voice came from the top of the stairs, around the corner from the basement room Rosamund had recently converted to a laboratory of sorts. Even though she trusted Heinrich with her most important secret, she had forbade him from entering the basement. She didn’t have to trust her butler with every secret.
Serafina lounged on a narrow couch in the corner. Her posture held the languid grace of a lioness at rest, but at the sound of Heinrich’s voice, she tensed, her newly strengthened vampiric muscles responding in predatory readiness. Rosamund regarded her with worry. Serafina was able to pass in society to a degree, but Rosamund would have kept her away for longer if those meddlesome mercenaries hadn’t forced her hand. She knew Serafina was bored, knew she wanted to hunt...or at least go dancing. But not yet. Festival was right around the corner, and by then Rosamund hoped the sharirana would be gone from Serafina’s system for good.
“I’ll be right back, sweetling,” Rosamund said. She began to turn to the stairs, thought better of it, and turned back to her companion. “Don’t touch anything.”
“Why would I,” Serafina said, her voice sulky, petulant. “Your meat sacks don’t have any blood in them anyway.”
Rosamund nodded and put down the needle and catgut she forgot she was holding. She had done so much stitching over the past few days that the needle seemed a part of her hand. The three bodies that lay on the table were puzzles of mismatched parts from corpses scavenged all over the city. The only two requirements Rosamund had was that they had to be fresh and they had to be large. Various rogues and scoundrels, always hired through third parties, had scoured the city for her, and the bounty they had delivered was impressive. Rosamund idly wondered if some of these bodies met their fate in order to be donations for her work. Already deceased bodies were less conspicuous, but, in the end, she didn’t really care.
There were only two more ingredients she needed for her experiment, and they were much harder to obtain than mere body parts. Her contact assured her the necessary components for her enchantment would arrive by Festival. And then she would have an insurance policy if the so-called B-Team came to call again. She hoped they would because she had promised Apranashar their kaerest. She could probably take on the whole team by herself, but “probably” was not a word she liked to use.
Rosamund wiped her hands and pulled on her long black gloves. It was times like these she wished she could check her appearance in the mirror. What if she had a gob of person goo on her face?
“Do I look presentable?” Rosamund asked.
“Gorgeous as ever,” Serafina said. “When you come back, can we have some fun? You’ve been playing with those bodies for days. There is another body in the room you could play with.”
Rosamund smiled, baring her fangs. “Of course, sweetling. I’m rather stalled now until my ingredients arrive anyway.”
“Then I’ll meet you upstairs.” Serafina passed Rosamund and drew her finger along Rosamund’s waist as she went.
The elder vampire followed her up and took a detour to the foyer where the courier stood impatiently, bouncing from foot to foot. Heinrich stood next to him, a human statue for all his lack of movement.
“What do you have for me?” Rosamund asked.
“Paperwork about the estate next door,” the courier said. “I need your signature and a witness’s.”
“Very well.” Rosamund took the thick stack of paper and began studying it.
“It’s a shame what happened to Roseview,” the courier said. “Fire and all. It’s a good job the fire didn’t jump over here to this place. It’s a beautiful house you have here, Ms. Steele, if you don’t mind me saying.”
Rosamund ignored the courier’s prattle as she scanned through the paperwork. With her signature and a transfer of a not insignificant part of her fortune, the land where Karin Astor’s house once stood would be hers.
The ever-helpful Heinrich handed her a charged quill and she signed her signature – an ostentatious “R” followed by precise cursive. Obtaining the land of Roseview was just the next step in her plan. Soon, Apranashar would recognize her claim to Thousand Spires, and hers and Serafina’s future would be secure.
twenty-five
Cascade Falls
We’ve been walking for nearly a week,” Sorvek complained. “When are you going to tell us where we’re going?”
Emric trudged forward, stubbornly ignoring Sorvek’s question. The dwarf always knew his feet would take him back to the site of the accident someday. Ever since they left Ashlyra’s tomb, he had been preparing himself to see the waterfall again, but now, less than a day out, he didn’t think he’d ever be ready.
The week had passed uneventfully. They shipped the luranko up the Kelenday March from the Crossroads to Elsany in Thousand Spires. Rhys mentioned being friendly with Lord Pelagius Sindar, and that made the Secureswift courier jump to action. The luranko was in good hands and would reach the gnomish enchanter soon.
That let the B-Team set their sights to the south. Alurel was adamant about planting the seed as soon as possible, and Emric seemed the only one with half a plan to accomplish the task. They had all tried to coax that plan from him, but he had stayed mute on the subject.
They took the Kelenday March through the gap in the mountains that separated northern and southern Sularil. The last time they had done so, they turned southeast towards Daen and Shonasir’s hometown. This time they turned southwest towards Raven’s Run Canyon and the small coastal country of Ravenest beyond. The only spot of bother they encountered was a small group of conscripts from the Kelenite army. The desperate soldiers had turned to thieving farms and livestock after the army had disbanded following the end of the coup. None of them had so much as left their villages before Thorpe drafted them. Now they were hundreds of miles away with no way back. The B-Team took pity on them, and Emric healed their medic, who had taken ill. Alurel had been against any quarter for Kelenites, but Rhys convinced her, saying that his own brothers could have been among them. After all, the soldiers hadn’t a choice in the matter of joining the army.
That had been yesterday. Today, Emric led the party due west towards the location of his worst day ever. He heard the thundering of the cataract well before he saw it, and the sound slowed his steps until he halted. The rest of the B-Team surrounded him as he put his hands on his knees and fought for breath. The panic attack which had been lurking for days in the knots in his gut came on full force. Emric’s eyes went wild, darting from face to face without comprehension. He hugged himself around the middle and tried to swallow down air, but his lungs weren’t cooperating.
Shonasir dropped to their knees and grabbed Emric’s shoulders. Putting their face near his, the elf breathed in and out, fast at first, then slower and slower. “We’re here, Emric,” they said, their mouth near his ear, their voice calm and strong. “You’re safe. There’s nothing here to harm you. Breathe with me.”
Rhys, Sorvek, and Alurel hovered beyond Emric’s blurry vision. His mind knew nothing but the sound of the waterfall and the small voice of Shonasir breaking through the din. Soon, Shonasir’s voice grew louder and louder, and Emric found himself breathing again, matching the elf’s breaths. At length, the panic subsided, and Emric sat down heavily in the grass. The others sat with him.
“I’m…I’m sorry, friends,” he began. “I didn’t mean for you to see me like that.”
“It’s nothing to be ashamed of,” Shonasir said. “I was barely holding it together before we knocked on my shineth’s door, remember?”
“All I remember about that day was how big and scary the water looked.”
“You’ve been uncomfortable around water since the day we met,” Alurel said.
“You noticed, huh?”
“Grumbling about boats. Not wanting to ford the Glassrun in Torniel. Yes, I noticed.”
Rhys looked up from the sw
ord he had laid across his lap. “And the monkeys on Starfall. You froze, and I had to carry you to the boat. You were screaming your head off.”
“I don’t...I don’t remember that.” Emric began pulling at the grass. He did not look up.
Shonasir gave the rest of the party a look that silenced them. They rubbed Emric’s back with the flat of their hand and felt him trembling. The dwarf’s tears dropped to the grass. Sorvek pulled out a handkerchief, but Shonasir waved him off. “Let them fall,” they mouthed.
At length, Emric spoke, though he kept his eyes on the ground. “Astrid was my best friend back home in Anvilcairn. We grew up together, and she was always getting us into mischief. I’ve never really had romantic feelings for anyone, but I was devoted to her. By the Forge’s Fire, I was. She always made the plans. She was the leader of our little duo. I was happy to follow. Then one day I got an idea in my head. It was pretty audacious, and Astrid liked it immediately. My brother Lorn found out about my plan, and he wanted to come along. Astrid let him.
“We set out from Anvilcairn and hiked through the mountains going south towards Raven’s Run Canyon. The plan was to trace Raven Sunforger’s steps when she fled Anvilcairn with the Star-Beneath-the-Mountain. I had just learned her ballad in my studies. It’s one of the five songs that all dwarven bards must master, and I was curious about the reality behind the legend.”
Emric grew more animated as he spoke about the legendary dwarf Raven, but then he suddenly sombered. “We reached the canyon, and Astrid pulled out a surprise. She had nicked a clever magical device back home. It was a tiny carving of a canoe, but when she put it in the water of the Ravensrun, it expanded to a full-sized boat. All three of us could fit, and she convinced us that rowing would be more fun than hiking.
“By this point, Lorn was head over heels for her, and he agreed right away. The boat hadn’t been part of my plan, but Astrid was the leader, so I acquiesced too.” Emric sniffed back his tears and looked up at his friends. “I’ll never forgive myself for saying yes. None of us had ever even been in a boat before, let alone tried to canoe the rapids of such a swift-flowing river. At first, we thrilled at the pace and danger. It was all we could do to keep the boat upright. But then the rapids grew more intense, the river even faster.