by LV Lewis
“I’m not sure what you want, but my heart isn’t going anywhere, Princess. And if you tell me this is just for one night, I’ll let you be, but I won’t be able to simply let you go.”
Amarie puts a finger to his lips, still wet from her tongue. “You answered correctly, Gary. Don’t you dare leave me be.”
A flash of Erihstoll’s figure passes behind Gary and disappears, causing Amarie to squeak out a warning. Gary looks behind him, but nothing is there. Standing, he grabs a gun from underneath his pillow.
“What is it, Amarie? I don’t see anything.”
“It must be my nerves. I could swear I saw Erihstoll walking behind you.”
“Sweetheart, he could be here. But if you’re only seeing visions—”
Gary jerks to one side, and Amarie sees a blur in midair quickly taking Erihstoll’s shape once more. Gary fires into the blur, but only manages to damage the wall and desk behind it. Fully formed, Erihstoll grabs Gary by the throat and waggles a finger in his face. Gary grabs the finger and bends it to the side. Amarie hears a small pop as the joint pops, then breaks. Erihstoll, not expecting a real fight, cries out with pure hatred, dropping Gary in the process. Gary wastes no time, firing again at the fairy. The bullets leave mars in the fairy’s torso, but do not bring him down. Even the vision of blood on his fingers only works to anger him more, and he rushes Gary. However, the Human surprises him with both strength and agility as he throws Erihstoll into the wall he’d just shot, away from Amarie.
Amarie takes the hint, jumping out from under the covers and running into the next room. She makes it to the doorway before Erihstoll’s voice stops her cold, and magic wraps around her throat, threatening to tighten should she move another step forward.
“That’s quite enough.”
Gary lunges this time, tackling into Erihstoll and knocking him to the floor. Amarie’s throat is released, and she runs again. No no no. This is not how it ends. Not from Erihstoll, she thinks.
Thoughts run together in her mind, and without warning, her stomach turns to knots. NO! I will not be the damsel. Not anymore. Her throat is beginning to tighten, and she can hear the battle continuing in the bedroom. Amarie forces the sawdust forming in her throat to disappear, and the knots to untangle in her stomach. What needs to happen? Erihstoll needs to be banished. Can I do that, quickly? Yes. Her own anger beginning to unfold, Amarie storms into the bedroom to find the prince holding Gary in a headlock.
“You’re right, Erihstoll. This is quite enough.”
“Oh doll, just stop. You’re no battle mage, and the bodyguard is a necessary ingredient in my experiments. But don’t worry. A full force has surrounded this place. Neither you nor Sydney are getting out of here alive. In the meantime, I’ll have your new little boyfriend and a new toy to try on him. The results will either be his instant death or something equally as fascinating. I honestly don’t know which, but I’m very excited to learn.”
Gary grunts, pushing back one last time against the fairy prince. Erihstoll smiles as he readily accepts the blow without moving. Looking back up at Amarie, the prince snarls.
“We had a good life set up, Princess. After what I saw last night though, I don’t even want to bother identifying your body. What with all the horrible things it did to this man, I couldn’t touch you with magic, even.”
Before the words are even finished playing in her ears, both Erihstoll and Gary disappear in a flash of white and purple. Something bothers Amarie about the color, but explosions are now rocking the entirety of Gary’s apartment. Erihstoll isn’t kidding. It sounds like a full army out there. Where are the Climintra? Sydney flies down and hugs Amarie’s neck.
“Princess, it looks like this is goodbye. Just know that you’ve been the greatest friend and . . . ”
“We’re not dying, Sydney. We’re fighting back, finally. Stay close, and be prepared to grow big enough to hold up whatever wreckage falls down on us.”
“What are you going to do?”
“We’re going to blow this joint, Sydney. Then we’re going to the embassy and finding out why I’ve become such an easy target for Erihstoll. After that, we’re saving the only other person who loves me besides you.”
Sydney hugs Amarie’s neck tighter, still not sure what exactly the princess is planning to do. Amarie’s eyes turn to slits. She’s tired of being some quiet victim, especially for Erihstoll, who’s obviously been behind all this. His political aspirations must have won out against love, and he felt there was only one good way to get rid of her. She lets the anger build up, knowing she’ll need it for what comes next.
***
All her life, Amarie was taught that the secret to magic is realizing it is merely energy. Elf magic is more powerful than most other Metas’ magic because Elves realized long ago that it wasn’t the only thing made of energy. Everything is. Wood, earth, rock, wind, flesh, even souls; all of it is energy. With that realization came the idea that anything can be changed; whether to mend or destroy is the mage’s choice. All one needs to know is the energy make-up of a target, and that of the effect one wants to create with said target. This is why Elves spend so much time learning biology, but also geology, architecture, and how everything is connected.
What she’s about to do is, quite possibly, suicide. Sydney is her only chance of survival. Pushing that worry out of her mind, and wearing her anger towards Erihstoll like a cloak, Amarie focuses on the concrete making up Gary’s apartment. In her mind’s eye, she conjures the make-up of each element that went into creating it. Without forgetting this, she then brings up the ‘recipe’ for a rather Human item, inspired by Major Temera Wiles: C-4 explosive. She then sends the new energy make-up into the lower half of concrete all the way around Gary’s apartment, changing it into a brand-new form. Still holding all these ingredients in her mind, she then sets her mind on the air in each room, changing it into electricity, knowing this will enact the reaction for the explosives. Already beginning to choke, Amarie smashes the now-electric current into all the walls at the same time.
Just as her explosions begin, Gary’s front door breaks open, and a wolf charges into encompassing fire. A single yelp and it drops to the floor, blackened and torn asunder. The explosions rip outward, waves of fire, just as Amarie had willed it. Screams mix with the blasts to create a cacophony of pain, hatred, and anger.
Amarie cannot see the damage outside, but what she hears is music to her jilted ears. The heat coming back at her is enough to melt her flesh. Bringing up the same protection bubble she’d used with Gary saves both her and Sydney, but the ceiling is coming down in huge chunks. Much like it did on Temera, Amarie thinks. Hoping the heat wave blasted out by now, she drops the bubble and nods at the already-growing Sydney. Seconds later, Sydney is twenty feet tall, catching chunks of concrete and throwing them away from Amarie.
Soon, the explosions die down, and the wave of fire dies, leaving the two of them in the middle of a large hole and hundreds of dead and dying bodies. Werewolves, goblins, pixies and fairies all lay blackened. Those closest to Amarie are no longer recognizable, their bodies blown apart by the initial explosion. Amarie feels only the faintest sympathy for them. More concerning to her is the lack of Human bodies. Were all these Metas corrupted? Are Humans not capable of handling whatever change takes place? Is Erihstoll going to try again on Gary? The prince certainly made it sound that way.
The Climintra Glyders are coming in droves now. Amarie doesn’t have time to explain today’s events, so she calls to Sydney to shrink down. Sydney does so, and two naked Metas make their way through the city, using their feet and multiple transports to get away. They have but one place for answers now: the Elven Embassy. Amarie decides that, if she must, she’ll burn it down, too, if it will help her save Gary.
*****
The cathedral-like Elven Embassy always stood tall, but Amarie senses, for the first time, an ominous presence. She imagines dark black wings swooping behind the building she’s called home for the past
year. Even Sydney whistles as they approach. Darkness broaches their home away from home. Time then, to break it.
Entering the embassy, the darkness becomes palpable. Everybody looks as though a thundering cloud hangs over their head, and some have a wildness in their eyes for no apparent reason.
“Princess, what’s happened here?” Sydney asks.
“Erihstoll is prepping for his finale, but I have no idea what it is. We’ll speak with the Elders and get our answers. I promise you that.”
Entering the room of the Elders, the atmosphere is no better. Looking upon the twelve, however, Amarie gleans a little more information. Each of them sits with their heads down in shame, guilt glistening from their eyes.
Amarie does not bother with the formalities of bowing into the room, nor to the twelve men and women before her. She lunges into the room with fire in her eyes and hands.
“Start talking. Tell me everything. Now.”
Only one bothers to look up at her, the King of Elves. Her father.
“Amarie. Welcome to our darkest hour, my daughter.”
The impact of the king’s deep voice causes several others to stir from whatever personal hell they are suffering. Nobody seems to have any grace left in their posture or soul. It hits Amarie that she knows what is happening. The Elders are deteriorating, inside to out. They are dying.
“Father. Tell me. It’s past time.”
“Yes, it is. When you were born, all reveled in your perfection. Beautiful, darker than usual skin, and the intelligence that shined from your eyes. But, it soon became apparent that you wanted to save the Humans rather than war with them. You grew up with that deeply held belief that they deserved all we had worked and battled over for many years before your birth. We should have listened.
“Alas, we nodded our heads and mumbled vague agreements to your arguments, but in reality, all decisions we made were against the Humans. Other Metas demanded we do more to hurt the enemy, and we proudly stepped up to the challenge. Our battle-mages scarred so much of the Human lands that it seemed victory was assured. Then they allied with the damned goblins, who helped them fuse technology with magic. The Humans fought back, and then the truce was called.
“You then set yourself to coming here, to the Complex, and finally building ties with what we still considered the enemy. Your actions, being both ambassador and princess, lowered our political clout inside and outside the Complex. When Prince Erihstoll Habbernock offered to make you his queen, my decision was hasty but well-meaning. When the two of you seemed to actually love each other, I counted myself lucky. Our political clout grew to near what it once was again.
“Then . . . he demanded you be removed from your position as Princess. He wanted your words to fall on deaf ears when you spoke of the Humans to the Ama Seldova Presidents. If I’d said yes, I would have saved you much suffering, I know this now. Our political clout would have fallen, too, as the fairy prince can only marry a princess by law. Stripping you of your born position would have killed our strong presence in Ama Seldova, which it seems is what Prince Erihstoll wanted from the beginning.
“I refused to give him that, but agreed to a great many other things, under some duress. I hid these things from you, attempting to protect you. One of those things was an agreement to give our life energy up should an elf kill out of anger while on the Complex. I didn’t believe it possible. It appears I was wrong.
“You killed a great many people today, Amarie. And by your actions, and my own, we have doomed the lives of all the Elders. All but you and a few random elves living outside influence of the embassy.
“You will be Queen, but you’ll never be welcome in Ama Seldova. Nor should you think the remaining Elves will listen to you, as your love of Humans will not reach their hearts. Your love for Gary Locke will damn you, and you shall be Queen over nothing, if not killed outright for the sake of the title.
“I’m sorry, my daughter.”
Amarie takes in every word, tasting them like a small child with several strands of spaghetti in her hands. As the child, Amarie fails to get it all in one sitting. Why in the mihres would her father dare to risk the life energy of anybody, much less that of nearly all those in the Complex? Why would he hide his plans from her?
“Why, Father? Why would Absom Vanyarin make any agreement demanding life force?” Amarie cries, desperate to understand.
“That answer is quite simple, Princess.” Dankesh looks up. “We forced him to do it. We were determined to keep our place in the political structures being built up even now. As he said, he never believed the price would have to be paid. We know you were forced to it, but you did it in anger. The magic placed on that agreement is quite clear. Blame your father if you must, but in the end, it was the Circle of Elders that forced him to accept.”
“So that’s it. You, all the Elders, die? There is no exception, no destroying the agreement? No saving you at all?”
Absom looks upon his daughter with all the love in his heart. For the barest moment, the darkness lifts, and she can see the strong leader she’d known her whole life. Then, pain wracks his body, and the darkness slams back around him, integrating him into the atmosphere surrounding him. Recovering from the pain, her father reaches for her hand.
“Only the destruction of the machine can free us, and now it’s fully powered by your friend, Corilynn. You’ll have to destroy her, for she gives the device purpose, and she has willingly given in to its whims now.”
“Tell me where it is.”
“Somewhere under the ground in the South. Don’t go, daughter. Let us die, and live as you have always wanted to: free.”
“I might, Father, if Erihstoll hadn’t taken my true love and my friend. I would die to save all of you. I’ll live to save the two of them.”
“Good. Excellent. Then I have but one last thing to give you. One final thing we never told you about. My life energy must go to the machine. The soul of leadership, however, is a separate entity. I will certainly die with the loss of my life energy, but I can give you the power each Elven leader is gifted with.”
Absom Vanyarin stands, by a considerable effort, and holds his hands up in the air. All eleven of the Elders stand up with him, ignoring the darkness overtaking them one last time. A guttural chant erupts from each of them as they circle around Amarie. Intimidated and scared, she twirls back and around, staring at blank faces with closed eyes as the chant continues. Their voices get louder, as though demanding something, in a language Amarie never knew existed.
Only Absom’s eyes remain open. When they blaze from green with irises to only white, the energy escapes them and rushes through each Elder, circling back to Absom once again. Around Amarie a new layer of energy coalesces, shrinks, and floats at chest level. The chanting grows louder.
The light of Absom’s eyes reaches his mouth, making him appear in pain. Instead, Amarie watches him pull out a ball of white light with one gray hand, and the energy in his and the other Elders’ eyes dies out. The chanting grows louder still, and Amarie feels a jolting jab through her insides. Absom reaches out, placing his white ball inside her own, then shoves the energy into her belly roughly.
“You are now the Queen, Amarie Queldetha Vanyarin. May the many gods and goddesses watch over you, may you lead with full intent good and right. For all that it may be worth, I am proud of you.”
Amarie’s head pulls back of its own accord, the white energy her father had held during the chant now taking over her eyes, mouth, and body. Floating into the air, it feels as though she is physically downloading the information of the ages into her mind. By the time she lands back on her feet, the Elders, including her father, are bowing on the floor to her.
She understands, now. All the decisions her father made were in dedication to the Elven nations as a whole. Even when they doubted him, he looked out for their best interests. At the same time, she can see where his own attributes hindered him, and how she could do better now.
Magic is no longer a toy
for her to use on a whim. She sees how each use will affect the worlds as a whole. She sees how destructive the smallest explosion is, and remembers the inferno she created, and cries for all that was lost in a moment of hopelessness and anger. The knowledge that most magic is beneficial to the whole of the universe causes her to cry in happiness, for only a moment of her life is tainted. She sees all that can be lost, and all that can be gained.
But above all, she sees the machine, a creature of magic that needs a driver to accomplish anything. She sees that it is invulnerable to any known weapon, that in fact, any attack will make it stronger. It is unnatural, yet biological, made of the energy she knows yet utterly foreign in design. Her father could never have hoped to take it down. What hope has she, even with all his knowledge? This new knowledge given her does not dissipate upon her landing. It keeps moving, almost like it’s talking to her, as she looks upon her father bowed upon the floor.
“Get up, Father.” Whispers warn her he is near death.
Absom rises; he is decaying rapidly now, and Amarie understands now that he was using this . . . ultimate magic . . . to keep himself alive till now. His eyes are sunken, his face skeletal. The folds of cloth he wears hides the ribs poking from his sides as he nears being unable to stand on legs with no muscle.
“I can save you, if you want, for a while, Father,” Amarie states, knowing her father’s answer.
“No, my Queen. I would have you stay steady on saving those who loved you all the way through, with no doubts and no desertion. Allow your father, and his Circle, to die. Create your own when the time is right, if it is right to do so.”
Absom is trembling, his legs no longer able to hold him up. Amarie grasps his arms and kisses his cheek. Her father trembles, but gives her one last smile before turning to dust, his robes falling to the floor.
The knowledge continues to whisper to Amarie, as it will until she too passes. She doesn’t have time to consider her disenchantment with the Complex. Perhaps now, she never will.