Myranda was surprised by the precise answer, and it showed on her face.
"Well, I didn't forget everything they taught me," Ivy explained.
"That man. Did you hear the name Epidime when he was about?" Myranda asked.
"Yes, but not just that. It was always General Epidime. There were other generals, I think . . . one was named Teht," she said.
Myranda remembered it as one of the names that Desmeres had mentioned.
"What did she look like?" Myranda asked.
"That," she said, pointing.
Myranda turned swiftly, staff held defensively. There was no need. The form she indicated was slumped in the far corner of the room. She, for all outward appearance, was human, but the thick black liquid that should have been blood betrayed her true nature.
Myranda had heard of nearmen who were different. This must have been an old one. Whatever had killed her had been massive. She had more injuries than could be counted, though from the looks of it, they all came from the collision with the wall and single blow that had hurled her into it.
"I should be sad that she's dead. I'm not. She was horrible. They all were. I'm glad I can't remember half of what they did to me. I'm glad the monster came," she said.
"The monster. Tell me about the monster. What did this?" Myranda asked.
"I don't know. I didn't see. They were teaching me something and yelling at me and then there was this shaking and this light. After that, all I remember is screaming. I was screaming, they were screaming. And there was the light. Terrible light," Ivy replied, trembling.
"I have heard enough of this. Human, kill the beast," Ether ordered.
"What? No!" Myranda said.
Ivy was startled by the out-of-place voice and ran behind Myranda for protection.
"Do not disobey me, human. Do as you are told," the tiny creature warned sternly.
"I will not kill her!" Myranda declared.
"Human, if I am to tolerate your presence by my side during this quest, then I expect nothing short of blind obedience. Now--do as I say!" the shapeshifter fumed.
"I will not kill her and neither will you!" Myranda said.
"I have no intention of killing her. I have ordered you to do so," Ether said.
"No. If this was truly important then you certainly wouldn't trust me to do it. What is this? A test of loyalty?" Myranda asked.
"Open your eyes. This place reeks of the D'karon. Their tainted influence permeates the air. That thing that you are shielding is no different. We are surrounded by death and destruction, yet that beast is unharmed. She speaks some absurd tale of a monster that rendered a fort and all those within to rubble, and yet spared her. It is a trick, a ploy, and you have been fooled by it. There is a stain on the floor there. It is Lain's blood. Months old.
"End that menace before it is too late. I will not touch that thing. You believe that you have a place in this prophecy? Well, this is it. Bring a moment of meaning into your useless and wasted life. Perform one valuable act before your frail, impermanent body succumbs to the ravages of time and the elements," the shapeshifter raged.
As the creature continued, her words were ever more hateful and venomous. Myranda weathered them as she had a dozen times before. Myn was not so patient. She had learned the language well, and was quite aware of the vicious tone. She would not hear such words aimed at her companion. Before Myranda could stop her, Myn puffed up her chest and blasted a column of flames at the tiny form.
"Myn, what have you done!?" Myranda cried. A fear that had been growing in the pit of her stomach as the argument had progressed suddenly surged. Behind her, the trembling malthrope whimpered, crouched into a ball and hugging her knees.
The flames lingered for a few moments before intensifying and taking a familiar form. The shapeshifter had recovered enough to make use of them, it would seem. A few moments later her human form stood before them.
"Even in anger, your beast proves more useful than you," she said. "Now, kill the whimpering animal behind you or I will kill you."
"Tell me why!" Myranda demanded, standing firm despite the fear that grew inexplicably stronger inside of her.
She cast a glance at Myn, who had stepped forward to defend her friend, only to droop her head and slink backward again. Myranda hadn't seen the creature show such fear since that day in the cave when the water caught up with them.
"If I were to do her harm, I would be chastised for it," she said.
"You certainly would!" Myranda agreed.
"Not by you. What possible repentance could something as frail as you force upon me? I would be chastised by the only beings capable of such a feat. The gods themselves," she stated.
"How?" Myranda asked.
"The mark! Why do you suppose we who are Chosen must bear it? The mark is a link to our divine origins. It is intended to ensure loyalty by punishing any act that shows allegiance to the enemy. The burning of the mark purifies the body and soul of misdeed. There are some misdeeds too great to survive. Murder of another Chosen is foremost among them," Ether said.
"That is the purpose of the mark?" Myranda said.
"Of course it is. I suppose you thought it little more than a label to indicate one's status. If a Chosen One's superiority is not immediately apparent, then he or she is hardly deserving of the distinction," she said.
"Well, then why would you be punished for hurting Ivy? Unless . . ." Myranda realized, turning swiftly to the slowly calming creature. "Ivy, have you a mark--anywhere on your body--that looks like this?"
Myranda showed her left palm. The creature looked at it through teary eyes and tugged the neck of her ragged shirt. There, just over her heart, was the mark. The fur was black instead of white. It had clearly been present since birth.
"She is a Chosen! She is a Chosen and you wanted me to kill her!" Myranda screamed. "Why!?"
"She is clearly a ploy of the enemy. If we allow her to join us, it will mean our end," Ether stated simply.
"How could she be a ploy? You said it yourself! If she were loyal to the enemy, the mark would have destroyed her," Myranda said.
"The penitence is meted out by the soul. A being as naïve or foolish as she may just be ignorant of its own treachery until the moment he or she takes specific action against a truly pure warrior," Ether said.
"Even if that were true, why would you kill her? She is still Chosen, and there are precious few left!" Myranda said.
"Foolish child. The Great Convergence has yet to occur," Ether said.
"And it never will if you destroy every Chosen you find," Myranda retorted.
"Do you know nothing of the quest you hope to assist in? Until the Great Convergence occurs, there may arise as many Chosen warriors as the gods deign fit. A fallen Chosen may be replaced until five of them unite and turn to the cause. It is thus our duty and obligation to rid this world of the Chosen who have strayed from the pure path, lest they gather and keep the truly virtuous from their place. Now strike that beast down!"
"No! There is no reason to. She is coming with us!" Myranda declared.
"I can come with you!?" Ivy cried, jumping up, a look of pleading hope on her face.
"She cannot!" Ether demanded.
"Of course you can!" Myranda contradicted at the same time.
Ether grasped Myranda by the neck of her cloak and shifted to stone, lifting the girl effortlessly into the air.
"I could easily kill you and leave that thing here to die," she stated.
Myranda coughed and struggled in the unbreakable grip.
"Hey! Put her down!" Ivy objected, a flash of anger in her eyes.
Myn, suddenly recovered from her bout of fear, leapt out and clamped down onto the stone arm casually raised as a defense.
"You are tolerated only so long as your benefits outweigh your liabilities. I will not allow you to endanger my purpose," Ether said. Her voice was as steady and emotionless as ever. She seemed not to be threatening or warning Myranda, but informing her.
&
nbsp; Myn shook her head violently. Her teeth scraped, cracked, and finally crumbled the stone of Ether's arm. The shapeshifter's hand dropped to the ground and shattered. Slowly, she turned to see the damage, dropping Myranda suddenly to the ground. She and her fallen appendage shifted to wind, rejoined, and with visible effort returned to her human form.
"However, until I am able to secure a more sizable surplus of strength, I shall allow you to remain by my side, provided that you can ensure me that the animal you insist upon shepherding can control itself," Ether allowed.
"Myn will behave," Myranda said, climbing to her feet.
"I was referring to the newest beast in your menagerie," Ether corrected.
"Is she talking about me?" Ivy asked.
"I believe so," Myranda replied.
"She's mean," Ivy pouted.
"You will have no arguments from me," Myranda agreed. "Now, if you are to join us, you will need something warmer than the rags you are wearing. Did they keep any extra clothes for you here?"
Ivy shrugged.
Myranda thought for a moment, reluctantly pulling what she knew of Epidime’s fort to mind. During her escape, she had come upon one or two storerooms that she had briefly considered as hiding places. Perhaps similar ones could be found here. Ivy must have been wearing something when she was brought to this place.
Myranda led the way up the stairs, with Myn and Ivy scampering with eager enthusiasm alongside her. Ether followed, conjuring an extra layer of clothing to ward off the cold that this form seemed so weak against. Doing so required a measure less effort than altering away the weakness. She briefly considered having Myranda tell the dragon to blast her with flame a few more times so that she could be off and done with the foolish girl, but the human would see it as a request for aid, and the thought of such an inferior creature feeling as though she had been able to help her was distasteful enough that she would rather await a more independent method to recover.
Ivy looked with interest at the other floors, inspecting bars and cells as though she had never seen them. Myranda found the first storeroom. There were weapons and armor for the nearmen. Ivy rushed in, excited by the new things inside. Shortly after, she came running out with a club that looked as though it should be a bit too heavy for her. She managed to carry it with little difficulty.
"Can I bring this?" Ivy asked.
Myranda could feel the stern gaze of Ether without looking. If this newcomer was a danger to them, it was best not to allow her to be armed. At the same time, if she was to be of any help, she would need to be able to fight, and thus she would need a weapon. Myranda looked over the club. Such a brutish weapon looked out of place in Ivy's hand. It was perhaps the size of her leg and striped with iron bands and blunt iron studs. It was a cruel weapon, and the newest Chosen held it as though it were a plaything. Myranda pushed the thought that this innocent creature might be something to fear out of her mind.
"If you are careful with it," Myranda decided, pausing for a moment as she realized how motherly she sounded.
"Thank you!" Ivy gushed in a sing-song tone as she hurried off to inspect more of her surroundings.
They were making their way slowly through the more battle-scarred floors now. In truth, though, it was only Myranda who was moving slowly. Ivy was navigating the debris with a dancer's grace, even with the heavy club in her hand, and Myn was right at home among the rubble. Ether squandered a bit of her freshly-regained strength in order to whisk immediately to the surface in the form of wind.
Near to the surface, Myranda found the caved-in remnant of a second storeroom. It had at least a few things that had some use, and was most certainly where the possessions of those imprisoned were kept. Most of what was found within was unusable, but Myranda was able to salvage a second canteen and bag, and a hodgepodge of clothing. An over-large, heavy wool shirt and a pair of leggings that were fairly close to her size, the former dingy white and the latter gray, supplemented her rags. One of the ubiquitous gray cloaks, also quite oversized, was the final touch. When all was said and done, the outfit seemed to suit Ivy. The saggy clothes and sleeves that hung past her hands were a complement to her childlike demeanor.
One floor above was the wind-whipped field. Myranda cast one look at the wind and snow and was suddenly reminded that she'd had too little sleep and too much exercise that day. The thought of spending the night on the frozen ground was hardly an inviting one. She decided that it was best to spend a few hours resting in what little shelter the ruined fort offered. Shards of broken support beams were gathered together to start a fire, which Ether immediately took advantage of. The sight of a dragon starting a fire and a woman turning to flame and stepping into it had managed to become commonplace for Myranda, but Ivy marveled at it.
"Does the dragon belong to you?" Ivy asked.
"In a way, we belong to each other. She is more of a friend than a possession," Myranda said, eating the last of her meal that was a bit smaller than it should have been, thanks to her generosity earlier.
"Oh. That's nice . . . Myranda? Why did you come here?" she asked.
"I came because something inside of me told me that I would find someone very important here--and I was right, because I found you," Myranda said.
She settled back against the wall, Myn climbed on top of her, and she wrapped the cloak around the both of them.
"Myranda?" Ivy said.
"Yes," she answered, eyes closed and already slipping into sleep.
"Thank you," she said.
The words went unheard as Myranda dropped off into an exhausted slumber.
Chapter 18
In Entwell, other wizards had begun to take notice of the events raging beyond their city. There were forces, bursts of mystic power, which could be felt even there. All agreed that a momentous time was upon them, but few could agree upon the deeper meaning. Eyes began to pore over the prophecy once more. The elemental had been summoned, that much was known. Was this truly the time presaged so long ago? Or would the events be scattered across years or centuries--or longer? Most eagerly awaited the answers. One was denied them.
When Deacon had provoked the unprecedented answer from Hollow, volumes of dense prophecy had been spilled forth. Most were even more indecipherable than those that had preceded them. It had taken much deliberation, but it was the decision of the Elder that Deacon's failure to alert others--and, indeed, his dismissal of those already present--was inexcusable. The missing words spoken that day would never be reclaimed, and it was solely his fault. As a punishment, Deacon was forbidden from viewing another word of the prophecy, or any other book. For five years, he would not be permitted any apprentices or apprenticeships, and his casting gem was taken away.
The primary goal of Entwell was to gather knowledge. His actions had violated that principle to the highest degree. As he had denied the world of knowledge, so he would be denied.
For a lifelong student such as he, this was devastating. For one so consumed, as he had been since Myranda's departure, it was doubly so. He struggled to retain the pieces of a spell he had managed to assemble in the weeks before the decision had been made. Permitted only blank paper, he recorded what he remembered, and set about fabricating the procedures and affectations that might fill in the gaps. He had to be careful. The spell drew dangerously close to lines forbidden to be crossed.
Days at a time were spent without leaving his hut. Shelves stripped of their books began to fill with loose pages covered in hasty revisions. The few phrases that he could recall of Hollow's last speech were nailed to the wall.
A long journey, necessary and deadly, is made safely in a single step.
He had underlined "single step" repeatedly. On the increasingly rare occasion that he left his task to eat, he would make his way to the waterfall, oblivious of the whispers of his fellow villagers. Most were convinced he had slipped into madness. He would eat, and as he did, he would stare at the waterfall. It would not relent for weeks, months even. Impossible to leave . . .
#
Myranda was shaken awake by Ivy. There was terror in the creature's eyes, and before she even spoke, Myranda could feel the flutter of fear growing in the pit of her own stomach.
"They are coming! They are coming!" Ivy whispered insistently.
"Who?" Myranda asked, suddenly wide awake.
"The teachers! I can smell them!" she said.
"So soon?" Myranda said.
Ether stepped from the fire and took on her human form.
"It was to be expected. A fort staffed by a general was likely to be resupplied and restaffed frequently," Ether remarked.
With strength to spare after the hours of recuperation, she whisked into the form of wind and launched herself to the surface. Myranda tried to follow, but Ivy caught her by the sleeve.
"No. Don't go! Stay here with me! We can hide!" Ivy urged.
"Myn, keep Ivy safe. I need to find out what we are facing," Myranda said.
Myn did as she was told, though she clearly wished to stay by Myranda's side. Dutifully planting herself in front of the frightened creature, and fighting off an unfamiliar and unwelcome fear of her own, she faced the stairs to the surface. Ivy crept up and hugged the dragon's neck.
"Don't let them get me, Myn. Don't let them get me," she whispered.
The dragon shifted uncomfortably. She wasn't certain she liked this newcomer, but she had been given a job to do.
#
Myranda squinted her eyes against the wind. They had slept through most of the day. The failing light showed a few rows of soldiers and a pair of equipment sleds. Perhaps fifteen soldiers in all. They were nearmen. She could tell by the way they moved. Pulling the sleds were . . . wolves? At this distance, she couldn't quite tell, but they seemed too large. There was one more, behind the rest, but he seemed . . . different. Myranda pushed it out of her mind and considered her options. She was well-rested now, and Ether had some of her strength back. Victory was not out of the question if they were to clash, but it would be best if battle could be avoided. Perhaps she could conjure some manner of illusion to conceal them. She weighed this option with a few others. None seemed likely to succeed.
The Book of Deacon Anthology Page 66