Fallen Star

by Steven Drake

  Mirisa rubbed her hands together nervously. “You won’t believe me if I just tell you, but I can show you if you want. Just hold still.”

  Mirisa reached down to place her hands against Darien’s side. Darien flinched, reflexively retreating from any physical contact. He narrowed his eyes at the woman. Just what was she up to? What sort of healing involved just placing her hands on him? She had not even gotten any kind of salve or potion. Darien sharpened his stare, making clear with the severity in his eyes that he was not to be touched without permission. Mirisa paused, her face momentarily frozen in shock. She looked almost hurt, but she relented, and instead held her hands together, palms outward, a few inches above the wound. Darien then felt a wave of confusion and disorientation envelop him, followed by the tingling sensation of magic filling the air around him. A white light gathered around Mirisa’s hand, not a single light, but rather thousands of tiny stars that whirled and danced as though they were living creatures, pure life energy given form. He recognized that power. He had seen that healing light before, long ago in his youth, from his mother’s hands.

  With such a powerful magic so close, he resisted almost instinctively, but it didn’t matter. Ordinarily, mages couldn’t cast spells inside the physical bodies of others, not without first breaking the will of their target, but the tiny dancing stars passed through his defenses as though they were not even there. It shouldn’t be possible, but he could feel it. It was the oddest sensation, not painful, but a warm tingling, like thousands of tiny needles weaving his flesh back together like torn cloth. As the healing continued, Darien began to feel weak, and started to sweat. Yet, as he watched, the dark tendrils began to recede, decreasing in length back toward the central point. A few seconds later, Mirisa withdrew her hands, and took a deep breath. The dark mark had grown considerably smaller. Darien stared at her, but could think of nothing to say.

  “I’ve been fighting it every day since we found you,” Mirisa said. “If I push hard enough, I can almost make it disappear, but like I said, it always comes back.”

  “It feels much better, thank you.” Darien couldn’t think of anything else to say, as he was still recovering from the shock. His confusion was interrupted by an acute sensation from roughly halfway up his torso, just above his navel. At first it confused him, and then he realized what it was. He had almost forgotten what hunger felt like. When was the last time I felt really and truly hungry, he asked himself? It must have been sometime before he started the journey to find the star sword, but how long before? He could not recall ever being hungry for the odd foods of Kadanar. The last time he could clearly remember hunger had been the night he met Jerris, now close to two years ago.

  “If you have food, I would be grateful. I really do need to leave as soon as possible, and I should begin regaining my strength.”

  “Oh, good,” Mirisa smiled and clasped her hands excitedly. “I’ll go get something.” She then jumped up and skittered off. Garok remained however, and continued to watch suspiciously.

  Lady Mirisa returned a few minutes later with some bread, a thick meaty stew, and a flask of water, which Darien graciously devoured. The food tasted wonderful, as good as anything he could remember, and he felt much better after eating. He offered no further conversation, preferring to concentrate on the meal. The most important thing now was to regain strength, so he focused himself on that task alone.

  Mirisa watched him as he ate, entirely too interested in his eating for his liking. Her vaguely eager eyes made him nervous for some unknown reason. She seemed exceedingly happy, and he couldn’t understand why she found his consumption so interesting. On the other hand, the ogre, who continued to glare sternly at him, as though he might leap up and attack at any moment, bothered Darien not in the slightest. Even now, years after he had left the Demon King’s service, Darien felt more comfortable with ogres than with his own kind. After he was done, he took a final drink from the flask, and laid down to rest again. His stomach full, and his mind momentarily calm, he soon fell asleep. Despite having slept almost a month, he still slept quite easily.

  Mirisa woke him again for breakfast the next morning, at least Darien guessed it was morning. Afterwards, she performed her miraculous healing a second time. The ogre did not enter the room this time, but Darien heard Garok’s heavy breathing just outside the door. Sometime during the healing, Darien noticed a large man in the doorway, with dark brown hair, dark brown eyes, and a full bushy beard with accompanying mustache. The rough looking man stood a little shorter than Darien, but his body was broader and thicker. His hair, beard and mustache as well, were wild and curly, but clean. He wore clothes made from various animal furs, white, black, and brown. He appeared heavily muscled under the furs, perhaps a hunter of some sort. Bright and alert eyes showed keen instincts and a sharp yet wild intellect.

  Mirisa didn’t notice the man until she was finished, then turned and smiled at the large fellow. “Kellan, hello. Did you want to talk to him now?”

  “Yes, Miri,” the man said, “if you’ll give us the room.”

  “Do you really need to talk to him alone?” Mirisa complained in an almost pouting voice.

  “Yes, Miri, I do,” the man answered. “It won’t be long.” He smiled at her coyly, and spoke with a playful intonation that suggested he was either involved with the woman, or very much wanted to be.

  Mirisa disappeared out the door and into the hallway. Darien heard the heavy footsteps of Garok plodding after her.

  “So, your name is Kellan?” Darien asked calmly.

  “It is. I am the master of this city,” Kellan said. Darien waited, expecting some more formal title to be tacked onto the end, however, none was forthcoming.

  “So, how shall I address you properly?” Darien asked.

  Kellan laughed heartily, a deep and pleasant laughter, totally unexpected. “Ah, you must be from the east then. We don’t have kings and lords out here I’m afraid. Some of the residents insist on calling me Master Kellan, but that’s their business. I’m just Kellan.”

  “I see,” Darien said. “So how do you maintain authority?”

  Kellan laughed again. “A good question. It’s not so different than other places I suppose. My grandfather was a woodsman, hunter, tracker, guide, and a number of other things as well. He didn’t get along in what you might call the civilized world, so he built a fort here in the shelter of the Leaning Mountain as a sanctuary for refugees, exiles, outcasts, and others like himself who wanted to live as free men. He never took any title, or claimed any right to rule, but people looked to him as a leader, and he guided them as best he could. The same became true for my father, and now for me.”

  “I see,” Darien said. It seemed ridiculous, but then he was a long way from any known kingdom. “Mirisa’s guardian says she is the Princess of Catarina. Where is that?”

  “Oh, that’s the elf kingdom in the Endless Forest away south. Elves used to keep to themselves, but they opened up trade a few years back. Now you sometimes see them in the lumber towns on the edge of the forest trading their strange wares. Still, I haven’t heard of anyone actually going to Catarina, and returning to speak of it, so folks tend to stay well clear of their borders.” Darien searched his mind. He had never heard of any elf kingdom this far west, nor had lorekeeper Galen mentioned it. It was an interesting puzzle, but he had other matters to deal with.

  “How far east is it to the Burning Lands?”

  “The Burning Lands, you say. That’s an odd destination.” Kellan stroked his beard in thought. “About a week’s ride to the edge of the Frostfire Mountains, I suppose, if you have a good horse that can handle rough terrain and the odd snowstorm, but then you’d have to get through the mountains themselves, which could take another week.” Kellan narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “Is that where you came from, or where you were headed? Those are dragon lands, and I don’t know too many elves or men that are on friendly terms with them. Given your nature, I’d assumed you were from Catarina as well
. Seems I was wrong.”

  “I’m not really from anywhere exactly, but I came here from the Burning Lands, and that’s where I intend to go once I’m healed.”

  “Alone, without a mount?”

  “Yes, if necessary. The journey won’t get any shorter while I sit here, will it?”

  “I suppose not.” Kellan’s expression turned stern for a moment. Darien realized that the man was trying to decide if he was a threat, so he remained as passive as possible. “In Exire, we have a rule. ‘A man’s business is his own, and no one else’s’, so you’re not obliged to answer, but the circumstances where we found you were rather… unusual.”

  “I should say so,” Darien said dryly. “I take it you found the creature near where you found me.”

  “What was it?”

  “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you, and it’s probably better that you don’t know,” Darien evaded the question.

  “Is that so?” Kellen said darkly. “Well, I’ve never seen a beast like that. Everything about it seemed rather unnatural, if you take my meaning. I’m no fool. I can see you’re a mage. We don’t have many mages out here. Used to have one living outside town, but he’s been dead for two dozen or so years now.”

  “I can see that you’re no fool,” Darien said. “I assure you I mean no harm to your people. Trust me when I say you’re better off than you would have been had I lost that fight.”

  “Which brings me back to the creature.” Kellen dragged his wooden chair forward and leaned towards Darien, placing his elbow on his leg and resting his chin on his hand. “I’ve heard rumors of mages coming out of the east, stories about unnatural creatures, chimeras they call them. Beasts created by magic.”

  Darien kept his expression even and calm, but inwardly he felt concerned. Chimeras were not common in any corner of the world, and as far as he knew, only the Demon King and the Black Council had enough skill and power to create them. He had fought several dozen at Kilnar, and those had to have come from somewhere. It couldn’t be coincidence that this city master had also heard of them. The woodsman’s excellent guess was actually closer to the truth than Darien had expected. That made it easy enough to let the man believe he had guessed right.

  “You’re far more knowledgeable than you look,” Darien said. “I would not have expected anyone out here to realize what it was.”

  “So it was a chimera?”

  “Well, a failed attempt to create one, anyway,” Darien lied. “It killed its maker, who failed to take proper precautions. I’m simply the fool mercenary tasked with killing it. I rode a wyvern and followed it here. The battle went rather badly for me, as you can see, but at least it is dead.”

  “Hmmm.” The man furrowed his brow and narrowed his eyes. “Right on the first guess, was I? Awfully convenient.”

  Damn, Darien thought to himself. This humble woodsman was cleverer than he appeared. “Well, if you don’t believe that, you certainly wouldn’t believe me if I told you the truth, so think whatever you want.” Darien added the vaguest threat to his tone. “I won’t waste words on you, as you seem to be too clever to listen to me. You have an eye for danger, and I am indeed dangerous. However, I once again assure you that I mean your people no harm. My business is indeed my own, and I don’t intend to be here long enough for you to need to know it.”

  “Hmm, well, fair enough stranger. I don’t know much about magic, but I know the look of a man with a past. You’re not the first man to come to Exire with danger trailing behind you. Won’t be the last either. We don’t have many laws in Exire, but I honor the ones we do have. As long as you don’t endanger the people of this village, and you pull your weight, you’re welcome to stay.” Kellan sighed and stood up, then walked to the door. “Do what you will, but don’t expect us to protect you if someone comes looking, either.”

  “I very much doubt anyone will, but I’ll keep that in mind.”

  Kellan nodded and started to walk out, but just as he was halfway out the door, he paused and poked his head back into the room. “And Lady Mirisa is under my protection, so don’t go getting any ideas. She’s got too much compassion for her own good, and she’s made something of a project out of you. If you try to take advantage, you’ll have me to answer to.” So, Mirisa had another protector besides the ogre, not that it mattered.

  “You have no need to worry,” Darien said. “It isn’t in my nature to seek the companionship of others. I tolerate it when I must, but I prefer solitude.”

  Kellan nodded. Darien thought he saw some small hint of skepticism. The hunter’s concern for Mirisa seemed completely legitimate, though Kellan’s threats were akin to a mouse shaking its fist at a lion. Hopefully Kellan would never have to know exactly how futile his threats were.

  Time passed slowly without anything to do, but Darien had resolved not to exert himself too much until he felt better. He did no one any good lying in bed. Around mid-morning another visitor arrived to momentarily relieve his boredom. This one was a short, strange looking elf with hair as red as autumn leaves, and pale green eyes, the color of the first leaves of spring. He was short, thin, and notably unimpressive in his plain brown shirt and pants, but he carried himself with a poise that suggested he was not simply a common farmer.

  The red-haired elf walked in without saying anything, sat down on the lone wooden chair, and stared suspiciously. Darien waited quietly without speaking, noting the elf appeared to be in a rather unpleasant mood. Darien recalled the ogre mentioning his healer had a brother.

  Finally, after several minutes of awkward silence, the elf finally introduced himself. “My name is Zitane, and I am Mirisa’s older brother.”

  “Ah yes, I believe Garok mentioned you.” This explained the sour look on the elf’s face. No doubt Garok had overstated the altercation in the hallway. “I suppose you’re here to assess whether I’m a threat. Then you’ll no doubt tell me to be respectful of Lady Mirisa.”

  The elf wrinkled his nose and frowned. “How did you know that?”

  Darien sighed. “Because your ogre and the master of the city both said something quite similar,” he answered. “Apparently your sister is quite popular.”

  “She is. Everyone here cares for her.”

  The elf resumed his silent scowling, and again watched for several minutes. Though Darien was patient by nature, he eventually grew tired of the little elf’s stare.

  “Was there something else you wanted, Zitane, was it?”

  “You’re a mage, yes?”

  “I am, what of it?”

  “My sister’s gifts, the way she heals with her hands. Is that magic too?”

  “Yes, albeit an exceptionally rare form of magic.” Darien squinted curiously at the elf. Did he really not realize that? “Why do you ask? You didn’t know?”

  “Well, I suspected. Everyone did, but we were not sure.” Zitane dropped his scowl in favor of a more neutral expression. “In Catarina, where we were raised, magic is forbidden by law.”

  Darien made little effort to hide his confusion. An elf kingdom with no mages? “You mean you have no one with magical talent, none at all?”

  “No, anyone who uses magic is given a choice of death or exile, but I’ve never seen the punishment actually used. The last case was some outsider that wandered into the forest as a child. He was raised here but was banished when he started displaying… odd abilities.”

  “That’s rather harsh, isn’t it?” Darien paused to think for a moment. When he had spoken with the Greatmother of the Ebonscale, the ancient dragon had spoken of how the ancient elves had fought over the proper use of magic, even mentioned that some elves had tried to eradicate magic entirely. Perhaps this Catarina was a hidden sanctuary of one of these groups, not unlike Kadanar, where only certain forms of magic were forbidden. “Why does such a law exist, if you don’t mind my curiosity?”

  “In Catarina, we are taught from a young age that magic is derived from demons, and using it slowly poisons the soul. Those who practice it draw
demons to our world, and are eventually devoured by them.”

  “That isn’t even close to accurate, but you must already have suspected that.”

  “I used to believe it, but Miri’s abilities, the way she heals wounds. I don’t see how that can be evil. Part of the reason we left is to keep her safe. She has other abilities too. She can sense things that other people can’t. She says she sees lights around people, and inside them. That’s how she found you, you and the… whatever it was.”

  “You don’t want to know what it was,” Darien said. Given Zitane’s mistrust of magic, telling the elf that he had banished an actual demon seemed unwise. “As for her senses, that’s called mage sight. All mages possess that ability to some degree.”

  “Is it dangerous, her magic?”

  “If, by that, you mean will her healing people somehow summon a demon, then no, there’s no danger of that.” Darien scoffed at the ridiculous notion. “On the other hand, magic can be dangerous to those without proper training. She might accidentally release spells that could injure her or others, or she might release pure magic, which is dangerously unpredictable and impossible to control.”

  “So, with training, she would be safe?”

  “If you could find a teacher, that would be helpful, but I wouldn’t go looking for one. You might attract the wrong sort of attention.” If the girl were going to do any real damage, she would have by now. Her healing probably gave her a way to release her excess energy, but that didn’t mean she was safe. The Order of the Shade had pursued his mother for similar abilities. “There are those who would seek to use her talents for their own purposes.”

  Zitane leaned back and tapped his fingertips together. He seemed to be thinking over something. “Could you teach her?”

  “No,” Darien answered quickly. “I already have an apprentice. I should return to him as soon as possible. The proper training of a mage takes years, and I don’t have years.” Zitane’s lip curled downward and his face darkened into a mix of disappointment and frustration. “I wouldn’t worry too much though. Your sister is lucky. Most mages don’t manifest complex spells by instinct, but she did and seems able to control it fairly well. It gives her a way to channel her energy. As long as she keeps to that, she should be relatively safe.”