Fallen Star

by Steven Drake

  His mind returned to the presence of magic. Every explanation led him back to that inescapable conclusion, and everything he had ever been taught told him that magic was dangerous even to be around. Then again, this girl might be only a victim of magic, not an actual mage herself. Perhaps someone placed her under this spell. Maybe this was some sort of punishment, or a way to keep her prisoner. It seemed a terrible fate to be stuck sleeping in a forgotten ruin. Who would do a thing like that, and why?

  As he looked at the little girl’s peaceful sleeping face, Zitane felt sorry for her. Magic or not, she was still a person, and she looked alive. All life is sacred, Zitane thought. That was the first principle he had ever been taught. Light is life, and all life is sacred to the light. To preserve life is to follow the way of light. How often had his father repeated it to him? It seemed unspeakably wrong to leave this person here.

  Zitane examined the table, checking for traps, exercising all his usual caution. The surface was adorned with strange symbols that Zitane did not recognize. Not letters, at least not of any language he had ever known. Zitane could read the old language well enough, but this was something entirely different, more like pictures or symbols. Zitane circled the table carefully, looking for anything unusual. Satisfied that no traps were present, Zitane slowly reached out to touch the girl’s face.

  As soon as his hand passed over the table and into the pale light that seemed to surround the girl, a light flashed around his hand. He felt a sharp, stinging pain in the palm of his hand like the cut of a sharp knife. Zitane immediately tried to pull his hand away, but found he could not. A thin trickle of red blood appeared on the palm of his hand, and dripped down to the table. He pulled furiously, but could not move his arm. He felt a steady pressure, as though the light itself were wrapped around his hand and forearm, gripping him strongly and holding him in place. Panic took hold of Zitane, and he yelled for Zandrek, but of course his older brother was too far away. Blood dripped steadily down onto the table, quickening with Zitane’s rapidly increasing heart rate. In a last-ditch effort to get himself free, Zitane braced his feet against the stone table and pushed hard, still to no avail. He tried several more times until he was exhausted, but still he was stuck.

  Finally, he simply gave up, and tried to think of something else. He looked closely at his hand. The bleeding had not slowed, despite the passing of several minutes. Such a small wound should have already started clotting, but the blood continued to drip freely. Even so, it would take hours if not days to die from blood loss at such a slow ebb. It seemed an odd choice for a trap. Surely if this trap was supposed to kill someone, it would have done something more substantial than a shallow cut to the palm. As his panic faded, his thoughts became clearer. If it wasn’t meant to kill, then it must have some other purpose. Zitane chanced to look down and saw the blood had not formed a pool, but instead moved strangely, almost purposefully, across the flat stone and gathered in the grooves of the symbols.

  A strange idea crossed Zitane’s mind, perhaps the blood needed to fill these symbols. Though the spell held him like an invisible shackle, he could still move his fingers, so he squeezed his hand into a fist, then clenched, forcing more blood from the cut on his hand, and filling the grooves of the symbols more quickly. Hopefully the spell would finish once it took enough blood. He had no idea what might happen then, but struggling only delayed it. Better to face whatever waited sooner rather than later.

  When the symbols finally filled, something did indeed happen. The blood seemed to drain into small holes which appeared at certain points in the symbols. Zitane felt certain the holes had not been there before. As soon as the last of the blood drained away, the golden light spread out, and gathered around him. Zitane tried shaking his arms and legs, but the pale light clung like a spider’s web. He shook harder, but it did no good. Then, all at once, the light left both him and the young girl. It seemed to flow into the table, and the table itself began to glow with a soft blue light. Zitane fell backwards as the spell released his hand, then took shelter behind a gray statue as he watched the light from the table flow through the symbols towards the center, where it coalesced into a white orb of fluctuating light, insubstantial and faded at first, but growing more solid each moment. It rose through the young woman’s body, and into the sky, where it hung in the air about ten yards above the table, just about where the snow seemed to stop.

  Then, Zitane heard a sound, a sort of sniffling, grunting sound. He stepped up close to the table, where the young girl was stirring. Zitane stood mesmerized as the previously frozen figure started moving. The magic must have been meant to wake this person up, but why, and why did it need his blood? A terrifying thought suddenly occurred to him. What if this girl was some kind of undead, and it required a blood sacrifice in order to become animate? Some of the old tales mentioned magic stones infused with the blood of mages used to accomplish terrible feats of magic. Still other stories told of vampires that fed on the blood of the living to maintain their flawless beauty. Zitane wondered what he had done, and whether he should have done it. Still, it was too late for that. Slowly the figure sat up, and turned to him. Her eyes were palest gray, shifting and reflecting like her hair, with a hint of lavender.

  “Who are you? Where am I?” The girl spoke with a sweet voice like a songbird.

  “Um… Uh… I don’t know,” was all Zitane could manage to say. “Who are you?”

  “I…I…” The girl frowned, and furrowed her brow. She clutched at her chest, grasping the spider necklace that hung there. “My name is Mirisa. I… I can’t remember anything else. What happened? Where am I? I don’t remember anything but my name. Do you know who I am?”

  Zitane stood rather stunned for the moment at the question. Whoever she was, she didn’t sound like a vampire, wraith, zombie, wight, or any other kind of undead he’d ever heard of. “I don’t know. If I already knew who you were, why would I ask?” It was the only thing he could manage to think at the moment, and it seemed a sensible enough question. She started to look frightened again, and Zitane felt the need to say something more. “I’m Zitane. I don’t know where you came from, but until just a moment ago, you were sleeping. Do you remember how you got here, what happened?”

  “No… I can’t remember. That’s bad isn’t it?”

  “It’s ok if you don’t remember right now. Maybe it will come to you later.” Zitane mustered his courage and walked over to feel her hand. It seemed warm and normal, not cold and clammy like he imagined a zombie or vampire might have. He rubbed his chin. She was a living person after all. It wouldn’t be right to just leave her here. “You should come with me. You can’t stay here on this mountain. My brother and I will take you back to safety, or, well, we’ll try. We have to wait for the blizzard to stop first.”

  “Um… alright,” she agreed, and she swung a leg off the table. Gingerly, she dropped to the ground.

  “Are you alright? Can you walk?” Zitane asked.

  “I think so.” The girl took a few uneasy steps, and quickly gained confidence. “Yes, I think I’m fine. Where are we going?”

  “This way.” Zitane led her to the stairs, and they headed down. They hadn’t gone far, when the darkness started to become a problem. Zitane realized too late that he had forgotten his torch, but realized it had probably burned out by now anyway.

  “It’s dark down here,” the girl complained. “I can’t see anything. Do we have to go this way?”

  “It’s the only way. It will be fine. Just hold onto my hand.” Zitane grabbed her hand, and started walking. Suddenly, without warning, the stairs grew bright. Zitane turned to see the little girl holding what appeared to be a tiny star in her hand. Magic! “How, how are you doing that?”

  “I don’t know. It was dark, and I just wanted some light and it came to me.”

  “Well stop doing it.”

  “Why? We can see now.”

  “Because it’s magic. It’s dangerous, and it’s bad. Demons will come and eat yo
ur soul if you use magic.” The last thing Zitane saw before the light vanished was a look of sublime horror on the little girl’s face. She immediately started to sniffle and cry. “It will be all right. I’ll hold your hand, and I won’t let anything happen. I promise I’ll take care of you.” The girl’s sniffling quieted, and Zitane squeezed her hand, and led her down the stairs. They climbed the rest of the way in darkness, slowly and steadily feeling their way forward.

  Finally, they reached the bottom, and proceeded through the passage, then out into the cave. The orange light of the fire had dimmed, but was still enough to light the room. He stepped through the strange false wall, only to find an incensed and surprised Zandrek glaring at him.

  “Where were you, and what were you doing, and… wait, who is she? What’s going on?” Zitane quickly explained what was happening, making sure to add a few apologies to hopefully ameliorate Zandrek’s anger.

  Zandrek stood with crossed arms and a thoroughly displeased look as Zitane related the story, scoffing and huffing every few seconds. Finally, when it was done, Zandrek took the girl by the shoulders, and moved her to the side.

  “Now then, Mirisa, was it?” Zandrek said. “You have nothing to fear. My father is King Ezmir of Catarina, and I am Crown Prince Zandrek., I will bring you to my father and you will be welcome. Upon my honor, I will see you safely to him.” Zandrek smiled his brightest, as he always did when trying to impress someone. Mirisa smiled warmly but uncomfortably back.

  Zitane accepted the situation. Zandrek’s approval would make the situation easier. All Zitane wanted now was to get home without further incident. He had to explain to the girl why she couldn’t use her magic on the way back. If anyone found out about that, she couldn’t stay in Catarina, and she certainly had nowhere else to go. Zitane felt he had to protect her. After all, since he had woken her up, she was his responsibility.

  Chapter 1: The Looming Shadow

  Something is coming, something terrible. The words echoed in Mirisa’s sleeping mind, and the tingling sensation of impending danger jolted her to consciousness. She bolted upright in the soft rocking chair where she had been enjoying an afternoon nap. She felt something, something sickly, awful, terrifying, far away yet, but drawing quickly nearer. A chill ran down her spine and back up again. The air felt electric, her skin tingled, and every hair stood on end. She knew something awful was coming, even though she could not understand how she knew it.

  Mirisa had always possessed strange abilities. She could see things others couldn’t. Sometimes she saw bright lights inside people, while at other times she felt strange energies pass over her, like invisible winds, and on rare occasions, she found she could sense terrible events before they happened. She felt that sense of danger now, more acutely than ever before. Zitane had never been entirely comfortable with Mirisa’s abilities, but he trusted her in spite of that. He would listen.

  Nearly two decades had passed since Mirisa had awakened on a cold stone table, without memory of anything but her name. Zitane had taken her back to his kingdom, Catarina, a kingdom hidden in the deepest part of the Endless Forest, the domain of the Fallen Elves, for so they named themselves. Mirisa forgot why it was they called themselves fallen, as she had always found history rather boring. Zitane’s father had officially adopted Mirisa into his household, but the palace had never felt like home. In order to protect her, the king and his sons had never revealed the truth about Mirisa’s discovery, but her slightly odd appearance and the uncertainty surrounding her origins fueled suspicion among the people from the start. Worse, as she grew, rumors spread of strange happenings in her presence. Accusations, not entirely unfounded, circulated through the king’s court of the unusual nature of the kings adopted daughter. Though the king and her brothers protected her, and helped her keep her secrets hidden, word still spread, and she had few friends outside her adoptive family.

  Still, despite the kindness of her father and brothers, she had never felt right as a princess, a sensation that grew even more pointed as she grew into a woman. She preferred wandering the forest with Zitane and training with the guards to attending the various balls, feasts, and celebrations at the palace. On one of her jaunts through the forest she discovered she could mend injuries with her touch. Her magical energies seemed to multiply as she grew older. Odd tingling sensations of restless, pent up energy grew until she could barely stand the feeling of restrained energy electrifying her body. To release her energy, she journeyed far into the forests to find wounded animals to heal, or let her energy turn saplings into giant trees within minutes.

  Worse, as she matured from a gangly young girl into a beautiful maiden, she attracted a different sort of attention from her oldest brother. Zandrek pursued her relentlessly, and despite her repeated refusals, he persisted until it became unbearably awkward to even be around him. The crown prince had become used to getting what he wanted, and the more the object of his desire eluded him, the more he wanted it. She did not hate him, exactly, but she found him distasteful, repulsive in some ways. Though he was handsome, even she had to admit that, he was also arrogant, spoiled, and sometimes cruel, with an insatiable avarice that Mirisa had learned to fear. She preferred the quieter and more thoughtful Zitane, whom she loved dearly as her older brother.

  More than a brother, Zitane had acted almost as a surrogate father. He told her stories from Catarina’s past, and of the elves before that, tales of terrible magic and wars with demons. She loved listening to Zitane speak, for when he spoke to her, his voice seemed different, as though he had a side of himself reserved especially for her. He acted as a tutor in anything she asked. Despite the fact that combat was seen as unbecoming of a princess, Zitane taught her to shoot a bow, and to fight in the dual sword style of Catarina. Whenever her magical abilities caused problems, Zitane spoke for her. More than anyone else, Zitane had protected her, and in the end, Zitane had cared for her so much that he had left his kingdom, his title, and his people to wander the world with her.

  They wandered for years, before finally settling in Exire, a lonely community of misfits in the shadow of the Leaning Mountain. Mirisa had come to enjoy the people of Exire, a mixed lot of rogues, former thieves, refugees, fugitives, old mercenaries, criminals of various stripes, and other shady characters. She felt strangely comfortable there, as she never had in Catarina. The people of Exire generally had nowhere else to go. Though not the nicest or most wholesome of people, they protected each other. Everyone in Exire had a past they would like to forget, and that sense of being outcast formed an unusual bond, a sincere loyalty and sense of community that Mirisa had never felt in Catarina. In Exire, there was no boundary between the respectable folk and the rabble, because there were no respectable folk. They were only people, unencumbered by the trappings of wealth, power, and status. Mirisa had found a measure of happiness here, and like the other people of Exire, she would fight fiercely to protect this last refuge from the cold hard realities of the world.

  It gave her all the more reason to discover the source of her dark premonition. She jumped up from her chair and ran through the halls of the lodge where she and her brother had lived for the past three winters and out the front door to search the town for Zitane. She finally found him chatting with Kellan, who carried the unofficial title of Master of the City. Kellan was the closest thing Exire had to a lord, but he made no claim of noble birth.

  As soon as she made eye contact with Zitane, the words passed silently between them. Zitane had seen this expression before, and knew what it meant.

  “What is it, Miri?” Zitane asked. “Did you sense something?”

  “Yes, something terrible.” Mirisa gulped and shivered.

  “What do you think it is?” Zitane continued. “Another one of your premonitions, like you got before the blizzard last spring, or before the wild warrogs came down from the north?”

  “Worse,” Mirisa said. “Much worse. This isn’t just a premonition. There’s something coming, and it’s something I’
ve never felt before, but I’m terrified. I don’t even know what it is, but I know I should be afraid of it.”

  “Well, which way is it coming from?” Kellan asked. “Should we shut the gates, sound the alarm?”

  “Let’s not overreact,” Zitane said. “We don’t want to cause a panic over nothing.” Zitane smiled reassuringly and walked over. He grasped Miri about the shoulders and touched his forehead gently to hers. Even in her terrified state, the gesture made her feel much better. “Slow down, little sister. Breathe slowly, like we talked about, and concentrate. Just try to tell which way it’s coming from, get a sense of what it is. You always see it better when you calm down.”

  Mirisa did as her brother instructed, but the fear persisted. Lacking her heightened sense of things, Zitane could not understand. If he could, he would realize that this was something much worse than a blizzard or any number of warrogs. This, whatever it was, had a sense of otherworldliness about it. Something about it was more than just dangerous, it was also unnatural, disturbing, and wrong. She slowed her breathing, shut her eyes, and concentrated. She felt the presence of her brother next to her, a solid rock in a stormy sea. She tried to shut out the sounds of the town, the smells of animals drifting from the stable, and focus on her feelings.

  The world opened before her closed eyes like a field of blurry white, stretching out in all directions, save one. She turned to what she thought would be east, as she felt the afternoon sun on her back. There, on the horizon, she glimpsed a dark cloud that swirled and twisted violently, growing larger on the horizon, coming this way. She shivered as it grew larger, and her heart began to beat fast and hard against her chest. Her fears deepened into primal terror, pressing upon her the irrational urge to run. She almost did run, but just as she was about to turn, she noticed something else, just beyond the shadow, like a star that shone so bright it rivaled the sun. It followed the dark cloud, almost as though it was giving chase. She focused on the cloud as it grew larger. It drew closer, filling the sky, but so too did the thing that followed it.