Shadowrun - Earthdawn - Longing Ring

by kubasik

  He set to work, moving each branch closer to the other an inch at a time, fearful that if he moved them too quickly one might roll out of place and send: his father plunging back into the pit. Slowly but surely the intersection of the branches came toward him, and his father's body approached.

  Soon Bevarden hung only a foot away, the branches bending low under the uneven distribution of weight. J'role reached out and touched his father's head. Bevarden looked up, saw J'role, and smiled a child's grin. "Son," he said surprising J'role. He'd thought his father couldn't recognize him anymore.

  The thin, worn man reached out toward J'role, and his hands felt like well-worn leather.

  Too soft. They had the touch of death about them.

  J'role helped Bevarden up, led him to a spot a few feet away and sat him down. Bevarden stared at his son, perhaps with pride, but J'role could not be sure. He was no longer able to read his father's face.

  Returning to the pit, he lowered the vine to Releana, who waited with arms upraised. She tied the vine to her waist, and then J'role gave it a pull, lifting her a few feet off the ground. Facing down toward the dirt, she spread her arms wide as she had done before, and again exhaled forcefully. Once more, a terrible rush of air expelled from her mouth.

  The air crashed into the ground beneath her, spraying wet dirt upward. Then the massive blast of air rebounded straight into Releana, sending her up the pit.

  Her ascent was not as vertically straight as Bevarden's had been, and she careened into the pit's wall. Roots lashed out at her and J'role heard her choke back a scream as the vine tugged wildly in his hand. No matter. The force of the air blast kept her moving up the pit, and he continuously hauled in the vine's slack, tossing it behind him as Releana's body raced toward him.

  Suddenly the motion stopped and he heard her cry out in pain. Peering over the edge he saw her only a few yards down, hands clinging tightly to the vine. Several roots had wrapped themselves around her legs and waist. On her face was a mixture of pain and fear.

  J'role swung around the edge of the pit to get better leverage from the branches. He could no longer see Releana, but he heard her soft whimpers of agony. He pulled as hard as he could but the roots would not give her up.

  Again the thoughts came to him. Leave her. What did she mean to him? He had already saved his father. Wasn't that enough?

  He almost gave in to the impulse to drop the vine and run off as quickly as possible, when he felt someone come up and grab him from behind. In his surprise J'role jumped and nearly let go of the vine. But then he recognized his father's hands. The hands wrapped themselves around the vine, and close to his ear his father whispered, "I'll…"

  The voice trailed off, the thought incomplete. Then Bevarden began to pull, arms wrapped tightly around his son. Together they tugged as hard as they could.

  -A shriek came from the pit as the vine suddenly slackened, and J'role realized they had freed Releana from the roots. J'role and Bevarden hauled up on the vine as quickly as they could until Releana's hands came up over the edge of the pit. She climbed up over the edge, her legs bleeding with raw wounds

  J'role breathed a sigh of relief.

  And then he heard the barking of the dogs.

  17

  His mother stepped toward him, dagger in hand. "No, no. Nothing to fear, "she said "It's all going to be all right now. Everything will be all right."

  He turned to get away, to hide in his room, but she grabbed his wrist fiercely and snapped him back toward her. "I'm sorry," she said "I'm so frightened." She held him close for a moment, then pulled back, the smile leaving her face. "Why did you do these things to me?"

  J'role wanted to know why too, desperately wishing he knew how to stop hurting her. But he didn't have the answer.

  Turning quickly, J'role saw two pairs of gleaming red eyes rushing toward him, moving low to the ground. One dog barked as it leaped through the air, trailing a mist of glowing red breath. Its night-black fur made it nearly invisible against the shadows; all he could see were the spectral eyes and mist floating from its mouth.

  Releana looked up, spread her arms, puffed up her cheeks and exhaled, just as she had done in the pit. A rush of wind poured from her mouth and slammed into the dogs, sending the one in mid-leap back over on itself and then tumbling to the ground. The other dog continued its rush forward, going straight for Bevarden, who screamed like a child waking from a nightmare.

  J'role's thief magic said, "Run!" Instead he threw himself at the dog attacking his father, tackling it, throwing his arms around its back. The two of them rolled off Bevarden and into the bushes.

  J'role had never felt muscles as strong as those that now rolled and bucked against his arms and chest. The dog turned its head left and right, straining back as far as it could, snapping and growling at J'role. The teeth finally caught his forearm, and the animal bit deep. Though J'role wanted to scream in pain, he clamped down on the urge, afraid of releasing the voice of the creature inside him. The pain made him lose his grips and the dog scrambled free.

  It rose onto its hind legs and whirled around, its breath summer-hot on J'role's face. It barked once, then lunged forward. The moment stretched out; the burning eyes seeming to come at J'role's face forever, then he rolled out of the way and the dog bit down on empty air. Now closer, it reared back its head for another bite, when suddenly the flesh along its neck was pierced by a spray of long needles. Blood spattered J'role, some of it falling into his open mouth. The dog let out a cry and its eyes rolled back into it head.

  "Over there!" someone in the distance called.

  "They're coming," said Releana.

  J’role tried to spit the blood out of his mouth, but the taste clung to his tongue. He looked around quickly. The two dogs lay on the ground, both pierced by dozens of long, thick splinters of dirt formed by Releana's magic. His father also lay on the ground, curled up like a child, whimpering softly.

  "Not now," J'role thought.

  "Now, and always," the creature said.

  J'role rushed to his father's side and helped him up.

  "What.?" his father screamed, terror blazing in his eyed

  "There!" came another voice from the distance.

  J’role clamped his hand over his father's mouth and pulled him up. Releana rushed ahead.

  At first J'role thought she was going to run off, but she waited for them to catch up. Then he saw that she was scouting their route, making sure they didn't rush into a thick wall of brambles.

  Then came more shouts, the sounds of more dogs. The leaves and branches and bushes dragged at J'role, Releana, and Bevarden as they ran, catching their legs and clawing at their eyes and faces.

  They ran for a few minutes when a thorn man suddenly sprang up from the ground, cutting them off from Releana. Bevarden said, "No, no, no."

  J'role grabbed a thick stick from the ground and raised it in front of him. He swung it wildly, blocking the blows of the thorn man's magical spear. Whenever the tip of the spear hit the stick, the air crackled with blue-white light. The energy shot up J'role's hands, and his flesh became more and more numb after each blow.

  Through the thorn man J'role saw Releana. She had her hands cupped a small flame appearing between them. Then she gestured her fingertips toward J'role. A bolt of flame raced through the air, through the thorn man, and then wrapped itself around his stick.

  The red flames frightened J'role until he saw them parting around where his hand gripped the stick. He felt no heat from the flames. Releana had augmented the stick with magic.

  The thorn man pulled back in fear too, though J'role did not know if it was the fear of a thinking person or of an animal panicked by fire. He swung the stick fiercely, the flames casting shifting red shadows among the branches and leaves of the forest.

  The thorn man retreated a few more steps, and J'role pressed the attack. Though he knew little of the art of combat, the magic flames from the big stick seemed to help his blows.

  Red spar
ks flared up as he struck the thorn man, illuminating the bones of several birds in its bramble chest. J'role smiled at his success.

  Yet even as he forced the thorn man back, a strange discomfort overtook him. Fighting so openly, with a weapon of bright fire, felt—wrong. There was no other way to put it. A desire crept through his flesh to retreat to the shadows, to hide from his attackers and strike when they least expected it.

  The agitation in his body drove him to a fury. He struck wildly at the thorn man, one blow after another. He knocked the spear out of the creature's hands, and the thing stumbled to the ground. With a final, massive blow he smashed in the thorn man's head, and dozens of sparks floated up like fireflies into the night air.

  Dropping the flaming stick, J'role looked around for Releana and his father.

  He found Bevarden leaning against a tree a few feet away, weeping silently but apparently unharmed. The next moment he looked around for Releana, and was greeted with the sight of two thorn men springing up out of the ground to attack her. She stood about thirty feet away.

  The backs of the thorn men were to J'role, and a surge of excitement coursed through his chest. Exactly, he thought, and picked up the spear dropped by the thorn man he had fought. The weapon felt oddly balanced in his hands but he knew it would be more effective than his stick.

  He rushed toward Releana's assailants, passing through the shadows like air, his footsteps wrapped in silence. The magic laughed inside him, seeing the perfection of his attack.

  Yes. J'role was certain he would hit.

  Releana dodged the thorn men's blows. Ducking and shifting left and right, she had not a moment's rest to prepare a spell. One of the thorn men slashed its spear against her right arm, and a crackle of blue energy burst on her skin, instantly leaving a black scar.

  J 'role reached her without having made a sound or leaving a trace of his movement. Even Releana did not spot him through the gaps in the thorn man's body. He pulled his spear back and drove its tip-into the back of one of the thorn men, wondering only at the last moment if such a weapon could harm a creature made of branches and thorns.

  But the spear's magical nature prevailed, and blue sparks flew wildly from the tip as it plunged into the thing's body. The creature's arms flew wide, its spear flung wildly away from Releana. The thorn man collapsed to the ground, then lay motionless. J'role whirled just in time to parry the thrust of the other thorn man.

  He heard Releana's voice, then flames sprouted at the tip of his spear. J'role felt oddly giddy, and the moment seemed to freeze in his awareness. Before him stood a creature made of brambles and magic. He himself held a magic spear, now made more powerful by the spell of a magician. Despite all that had happened in his life, and no matter what would come next, everything he might ever have wanted from the fantastic had come his way.

  His father hadn't lied at all. There was adventure in life. J'role knew now, however, that one could not define the terms of the adventure.

  The thorn man stabbed his spear at J'role, and caught him full in the arm. A horrible pain coursed through his flesh and he staggered back. Raising the spear just in time, he blocked another blow, and then shoved the spear forward. The creature leaped out of the way.

  The maneuvers cost J'role his balance, nearly sending him to the ground. He recovered just in time to dodge another blow from the thorn man. Jumping away from the attack, he whirled around and plunged his spear into the creature's right shoulder. The sparks flew wild, and the creature reeled back.

  The two of them stalked each other now, moving in a wide circle around an undefined point of contention. Behind the thorn man, J'role saw Releana grab dirt from the ground, speak a few magic words, and toss the dirt at the thorn man. The dirt transformed into the same kind of darts that-had killed the dogs, but the darts passed harmlessly through the thorn man's hollow body.

  The creature made a stab, then another. Each time J'role just barely dodged the attack.

  Releana looked startled as she stared at some bushes back the way they'd come. J'role saw her wave her hands in the formation of another spell. A moment later an elf, his flesh pocked with thorns that pierced his flesh from the inside out, broke through the bushes, brandishing a sword and shouting, "Here, here!"

  As J'role continued parrying with the thorn man, he saw Releana raise her hands again, and release another spell. A spear of ice formed under her fingertips and raced through the air. It slammed into the elf's chest, creating a red blossom on the elf's shirt of white petals.

  In that instant the thorn man turned his focus from J'role, slightly toward Releana. J'role lunged forward and pierced the thorn man's chest, which began to glow white-hot as fire and sparks from the spear cut through it. The brambles exploded into flames as the thorn man fell apart and dropped to the ground.

  "Come. We've got to go! Now!" Releana cried.

  J'role hesitated. He wanted to go back and get the ring. He knew where it would be. On the shelves outside the elf queen's chamber with all the other gifts.

  How could he leave the ring with the Alachia?

  How could he leave her?

  Without even thinking about it he began to walk back toward the castle a hand caught his arm and he turned sharply. It was Releana, looking concerned and confused. "We have to go!" she whispered harshly. "The Blood Wood, all of it, belongs to the elves. There's no place to hide. I already made that mistake. We have to get out. Now."

  He stared at her as if he'd never seen her before. Her words were full of practical, direct concern. Their abruptness seemed to pull him out of a dream. Yes. He had to go. They had almost died just trying to escape. What hope did he have of sneaking back to the castle, getting to the Hall of Gifts, and then escaping from the forest? He could not even explain to Releana what he would be doing. He would have to take his father with him ...

  No. No. There was no way.

  Releana tugged his arm again.

  "What is it?"

  Just everything, he thought. Just everything.

  "Not everything," the creature in his thoughts said. "The ork told you where to go next.

  That kingdom. Throal.”

  "Yes," thought J'role. "Throal."

  "Exactly. He's probably still on his way. You can catch up to him."

  "Yes. Yes. I can catch up."

  Suddenly inspired, J'role went over to his father and took the man's hand. "The elves,"

  Bevarden kept saying over and over, as if he'd lost a child. "The elves ..."

  The three of them pressed on in the darkness. Neither elves nor dogs nor any other creatures bothered them, but J'role saw the silhouettes of trees moving all during their seemingly endless trek through the night forest. Then Releana spotted spheres of light floating through the air, apparently looking for them. With each step, leaves and branches tugged at their clothes and scratched their flesh.

  All J'role's wounds—from the spears, the roots in the pit, and the thorns of the elf queen—began to work deeper into his body. After a few hours he could barely stagger after Releana, who led Bevarden along in the night. He had no idea how long they had been traveling, though it seemed more than likely that they'd been wandering in circles.

  He had a waking nightmare of stumbling once more into the clearing where stood the great, living elven castle. There the elves surrounded him once more and threw him back into the pit.

  J'role's face soon began to feel prickly and he heard things he knew could not be real—

  random words spoken by his mother, fragments of stories spoken by his father. But the words came so clearly that J’role thought he must be slipping in and out of the past, arriving in Blood Wood as if through some feverish nightmare—instead of the other way around.

  "I'm sorry, " his mother said to him. "I'm so frightened. "She held him close…

  …He was confused. The dark trees, the shadows on the ground…

  A flash of metal …

  Did Releana know where she was going?

  "I want
so much to see the elves," his father said.

  No. His father had said. Right now, in Blood Wood, his father was crying softly.

  "They're so beautiful That's what my father told me, and his father before him. And now I tell you. They live in thick forests, and there is no being fairer or kinder than they. They are strict, but generous.” His father looked away and up, as he so often did after J'role's mother had been killed. The elves were a replacement for her, giving him hope in a world without hope. "I may not live to see them. But perhaps you may, J'role. What a thing, son.

  What a thing. What a thing to see the world."

  There in the elven Blood Wood, J'role hastened his steps, caught up with his father and Releana. He took his father's hand in his. Squeezed it. His father squeezed back.