The Shadow of Our Stars: The Tales of Evinar

by Alexander Richter

  “Ha ha ha, I will see what truth that holds.” From beneath the waters, a frothing erupted, launching a platform of stone into the stream of Quinn’s torch. “You will see me now.”

  Abbott hardly knew at all what his eyes were beholding. He negated to imagine the sort of creatures dwelling in Evinar's strange lands, but this was peculiar. Bird-like in appearance with a golden beak and a plume of feathers sprouting from its head, it had multicolored wings the size of a bedsheet tucked back abreast. The skin of the creature was covered with little ringlets like scales of a fish. Three brightly colored clumps of feathers wavered behind the creature’s massive body. But it was the eyes Abbott stared fixedly at. They were luminous— like lanterns that could see through the soul of any man and tell you his heart’s desires or his deepest fears.

  “Yuck!” Quinn said with a look of repulse. “What are you supposed to be?”

  “I have been called many names in my lifetime but ‘yuck’ is a first. Tell me, woman, do you insult all the things you do not fully comprehend? Were you to be anything other than flesh, I would never express such statements.” The creature’s scales surged with a radiance of electricity from head to tail.

  The torchlight was not needed in the creature’s presence.

  “Spectacular!” Abbott said on the contrary. He was reminded of the very magic flowing through the world he saw when he glanced behind the lens of the stellascope. Whatever this thing was, it intrigued him.

  “Then why hide in the dark? If you were truly beautiful, you wouldn’t hide.” Quinn stomped her foot, a fountain of water splashed over her face.

  “It may be probable I dwell in the stone for other reasons rather than concealment of beauty. If you knew of what I am, you’d understand why I choose my low standards of living.” Purple shaded talons matching the length of the sword’s draped around the two small human’s belts, and they tapped aggressively on the stone platform.

  “Then what are you?” Abbott asked, still looking into the creature’s unchanging eyes.

  “Something from another age entirely. At the beginning of this world, I called the oceans my abode, but they are no longer safe. I have resorted to hiding in the wells of caves and mountain caverns alike under the charm of darkness. It is the only sanctuary this world can provide, but it’s hardly so. I fear I may be the last of my kind.”

  As intense as a lightbulb in Woolbury or a touched forest, Quinn blurted, “You’re the serpent! The serpent the sea was named after!” She lowered her sword. “But that’s impossible. You would have to be... ages old! As old as Evinar itself. During Soren’s age.”

  The creature’s eyes plunged. “I’m barely a serpent in the definition. Serpents don’t fly, do they woman?” A tantalizing exhale was released from flared nostrils. “Moons have passed since I was blessed with that ocean’s namesake, and I’ve loathed every one since— and all for the sinking of one man’s ship. Quite impolite, if I might add. Only by chance did the might of my tail smash the boat to pieces. And so the name was birthed and thus our curse began. Your people have long since hunted down anything resembling a serpent, my kind taking the brunt end of it all. I am all that remains of this truth.”

  “We are sorry,” Abbott said in sympathy. “It must be hard to live alone without a family of any kind or to lose what family you had over a misunderstanding.”

  “I’ve grown to understand this isolation of punishment, unfortunately.” The creature’s eyes narrowed. “So now that we’ve uncovered my mystery, tell me, Abbott Bradbury, why it is you wish to pass beyond the mountains. You said you have no choice in the matter, but we always have a choice. What has stricken you to the point of voluntary demise? Be honest. I can sense the dishonest before words even flow from their lips.”

  Abbott took a deep breath before he confessed his truths. He told the creature of his father’s kidnapping and the Weeping Woman and all the things they’d crossed in their paths thus far. The entire narration broke like a stick in the restless winds when he mouthed the words, “to save my father’s life.” A teardrop fell from his eyes as he once again realized what we had to do.

  Quinn sensed the distress in his voice. “We’re going to, I promise you,” she said, placing an arm around him.

  “H-h-hopefully,” he said recollecting himself, “but we’ve had nothing but problems in our path. I just… I just don’t know how much longer he can wait. I feel as if time is running out.”

  The creature did not speak a word but instead observed Abbott with a level of detail to detect his honest emotions. There was a great deal of trouble to be seen, but it came from both of those before him. When all was finished, the creature finally spoke. “The path you’re on now will only bring you greater grief and struggle. I have lived under these mountains for some time, and I hear the whispers of what lurks beyond. It is no place for people of the flesh. Pure evil is what you’ll encounter here, that is my promise. I would, if you’d be inclined, I would proudly do the honor… although it accompanies the great risk of my behalf… to fly you to where you seek— no too close but just close enough to… position you in a better spot.”

  “You would?” Abbott said, lifting his glossy eyes. “But you’ve just told us about—“

  “Nonsense. What kind of griffin would I be if I let your family fade as mine has? I cannot bear witness to the idea of another torn heart, especially one easily prevented. Abbott Bradbury and woman friend, I would be honored to take you where you seek. Danger or no, I have lived in silence far too long. It is about time I stretch these wings for another time and feel the wintery breeze ruffle up my tail feathers. Would you give me the privilege?”

  An explosion of emotions burst from the depths of Abbott’s anxious stomach. “Yes!” he said without another moment to think. Quinn, too, shared at the moment with a grin masking the agony dwelling deep down. Misfortune breed promise and promise smoothed the seas of both minds. Such was finally on their sides.

  “How long has it been since you’ve flown?” Quinn asked as they followed the griffin from his eternal den.

  The griffin chuckled at her query. “I can’t say I remember.”

  “Do you have a name?” Abbott asked. “You must at least recall that?”

  “There was a time when I was known as Frostbite. You may call me that if you wish. It beats being called ‘yuck’.”

  Quinn smiled nervously. “Frostbite it is.”

  The chilling winds aggressively blew without warning. A flurry of snowy debris swept past Quinn and Abbott’s peach-colored cheeks, blinding them in the night. All they could bear witness to was Frostbite’s multicolored physique that stood out like a beacon, allowing his rider a clear look.

  Frostbite had a bright turquoise body and ginger-toned wing feathers with scales of emerald every which way beneath his chest. He was the mightiest and most majestic creature hidden under darkness.

  He knelt in the snow, lowering his neck. “You are welcome to climb on. Be courteous of the feathers, there’s a great deal of pain that accompanies when they’re plucked out.”

  Carefully, the riders mounted with the griffin’s request in mind. “But how are we meant to hold on?” Quinn asked Frostbite. “If not the feathers, I don’t see anywhere secure enough to grip.” But before Frostbite could respond with an answer, he darted into the winter storm with glee. They resorted to holding on for dear life, wrapping their arms tightly around each other in the process.

  The blond hair on Abbott’s head fanned back as chilly winds stabbed at his cheekbones. There was not a shred of fear running through his veins, not this time. The stars were closer to him than ever before. He felt like he could reach out and touch the bright burning balls of gas. Quinn, on the other hand, squeezed her eyes closed and dared not open them. She whispered a few words, resembling a prayer, hoping it would all be over soon.

  “Isn’t this wonderful?” Frostbite said joyfully. “To feel the air beneath my wings again and the feathers on my head waver freely.”

&n
bsp; “No!” Quinn confessed, the wind drowning out her voice.

  Frostbite soared up the mountainside at an unprecedented speed, deeper and deeper into the uncertainty of the weather. His turquoise tail feathers turned from left to right like a rudder in the frosted gust, steering them beyond glacial formations and bouldered peaks. The Spine Mountains punctured into the veil of Evinar’s constellation, joining the fallen soldiers of the past long ago. Abbott was among the very giants of folklore. Newfound liberty coursed inside his veins as the griffin flew like a straight shot arrow.

  “Hold on!” Frostbite howled. He tucked back his wings in an effort to escape the wind’s drag. He shot through a bed of pillowy clouds, abandoning the windy hurricane below. Quinn finally released the tension in her worrying fingers as the griffin came to a steady soar. They’d risen above the obscured landscape and were gliding over dense white puffs like a valley of snow. Joy entered Abbott as he stretched his arms out in wonder, welcoming the tranquil air as it lifted up his dampened spirits.

  “Whoa!” he bellowed. “This is fantastic! Truly fantastic!”

  A calming warmth accompanied the lands above the clouds. Evinar's sun could be seen rising upon the northern horizon. It was a sphere of optimism breaking through him. Somehow he knew there were better things to could amidst the darkness in the future. He made a promise to himself at that moment that no matter the outcome, he’d rise above it.

  “Join me,” Abbott said, offering Quinn his hand.

  Dubious, Quinn declined. She was perfectly content with not seeing how far above the ground they were, but he persisted.

  “When will ever experience this again?” He said and Quinn knew the answer was never because she’d never willingly do this again. “Come on.”

  One hand at a time, Quinn doubled Abbott’s outstretched liberty until she, too, understood the sensation. Her auburn locks flickered like a bedside fire. “Whoa!” they chanted in unison. “Whoa!”

  Time ceased to exist above the clouds.

  Frostbite turned his long neck back to witness the faces of his riders. His lantern eyes curved like a smile. “Wonderful, isn’t it? Nothing matches the sheer scale of intuition.”

  Even Quinn agreed with the griffin. The flight had wonderful moments.

  Frostbite tilted left, dragging his talons over the white fluff in harmony, but, out of nowhere, he felt a sharp beak clamp down on one of his toes. “Ouch!” he cried as he reactively whipped his head back to meet the unpleasant guest. Blackbirds with blood eyes plucked at his tail feathers and nipped at his scales. Where there was one, four more came to join the fight.

  They were under attack.

  The riders returned to their positions as Frostbite tried to regain drift. A murder of crows viciously streamed past the griffin’s bright head feathers. Cries of dismay warned Quinn and Abbott. They were a curtain of oil fanning through the dark, moving as one army.

  “What’re they doing?” Abbott asked, watching as they re-built the formation.

  “Preventing us.”

  “It’s her, she knows we’re coming!” Quinn said fretfully. “She wants to finish you off while she has the chance!”

  “Hold on tightly. I’m going to try to lose them.” Frostbite widened his wingspan and lowered back underneath the clouds. He used the elements to disguise himself just long enough until they found his misplaced body through the weather’s chaos.

  That’s when they saw it— three towers in a scorched wasteland. They knew at once what they were looking at. All the excitement from the flight with Frostbite withered away as they gaped at the enormous structures. That was where she lived. That was where Abbott’s father would be. This was the moment he had been dreading.

  Lightning flickered in the background of turrets along with the layer of smog. The birds abandoned their pursuit and darted back to their master screeching and wailing higher than one's ears could allow.

  The griffin’s vibrancy was foreign in the bleak. “This place…” he muttered in disbelief, shaking his head. “It has… changed… died. I should’ve known. I hear voices in the dark of what has become of this place. This brings no surprise, but yet it hurts. I weep for the friends I once knew. Their souls… lost in anguish.” Frostbite circled the skies many times before finding somewhere to land, but even he didn’t know if it was safe. “I leave you here.”

  “Leave us?” Abbott questioned.

  “I cannot blame you.” In all her life, Quinn had never come to fruition with such horrors. The very essence of these lands drained any courage she’d had before and left her with doubt. She wanted to turn back— to go live life elsewhere and forget all about this place, but she couldn’t. She’d made a promise to Abbott. She wasn’t going to let him fall victim to her fate. Her fate? She thought, was more uncertain now, than ever before.

  “It’s not safe here for me, nor is it for you, but I cannot persuade you otherwise.” Frostbite pushed his beak into the air, “It does not comfort me to leave you here, but it does not comfort me to stay.”

  “Please,” Abbott pleaded in his lantern eyes. “How will we get back?”

  “If we ever make it out alive,” Quinn corrected.

  Abbott shifted his head towards Quinn to address her concern. “We will. I know it.”

  “I will wait for you. One night at most. I believe I can take refuge in the cave over there as long as nothing occupies it. By this time tomorrow, I will have no choice but to depart back to where I came.”

  This was not the news either Quinn or Abbott wanted to hear, but they had been in good fortune thus far. Frostbite was generous enough to lessen the journey and take them over the Spine Mountains. They had that to thank him for. What things they might have found inside the waterway, they would not have to fret about.

  “I cannot thank you enough,” Abbott said lightly. “You are most kind.”

  Quinn joined in the giving of thanks. “We should be moving along,” she said, “they already know were here, what’s to say they don’t send someone to apprehend us.”

  “She is right. But that means I must depart at once.”

  “I understand,” Abbott said.

  Frostbite rose into the air. “Return to this place and I shall know. Farewell to you both, I hope to see you again. May Soren watch over you.”

  Quinn nodded her head, and the griffin flapped its gingerly wings and disappeared into the darkness.

  Abbott’s fingers tapped over the backside of the pommel strapped to his waist. He’d have to use it soon and he could feel it growing in the bones of his fingers. Was he ready? He didn’t know, but what he did know, whatever the cost, he’d fight with his life to save his father.

  “Shall we?” Quinn said, gazing at three turrets they called Unduk Validur.

  31

  Through the desolate terrain, they passed the sound of eerie birds overhead and extinguished life below. A lining of misery surrounded this place, one like Abbott had never felt before.

  Quinn looked nervously over her shoulders from time to time at every unsuspecting sound as if her life counted on it. Even he could tell, Quinn’s courage was in short supply this time around, but he could hardly blame her.

  They were on the same page.

  The three towers distinguished themselves like silhouettes against the obscurity. They were nothing more than polished obsidian stone formulated in a manner of concealment. The columns were accompanied by a barrage of makeshift tents and campsites below. Abbott could not help but think about the horrors within and how an entire army of evil would be there. He and Quinn would have to fight their way in, but what chance did they have? Two against hundreds were never good odds, he knew that. But in the midst of his stormy mind, all was still in the valley. Whatever lurked about did so invisible to his eyes.

  The central structure harbored an enormous iron front gate and held a crown on its giant head. In the distance, Abbott witnessed the slight hint of candlelight burning in the chamber window. It was the only glimpse of light
to been seen. The other structures had no other windows nor any portholes for the elements to move through.

  Quinn pointed her finger towards the small ball of light. “That’s where she’ll be. I knew it.”

  Undoubtedly, he agreed with her. Lilith would be there— conceivably expecting him. The light, unquestionably, was set up as a signal against the mysterious landscape of the Vail.

  “Swords at the ready,” Quinn said, instructionally. “I don’t know what kinds of things we’ll run into and I doubt it will be easy. If I were her, I’d take every chance I could to finish you off.”

  With hands trembling, Abbott gulped and withdrew the foreign object around his belt. His palms were slick against the coiled steel grip. In an act of comfort, he removed the smooth pebble from his pocket and gave it a once over with his narrow thumb. “Anything else you’d like to help with? N-not that we need it, but it would be nice,” he said in a hushed whisper. The Guardian was still and remained dormant. Not even a flicker. “Thought so.”

  Quinn glanced down the barrel of her cylindrical tube. “There’s something just over this ridge,” she said in a dull murmur. “Something powerful. I can see it buzzing around my lens, but it's not normal magic. It changes direction rapidly and never stays in one place longer than a moment.” She collapsed the stellascope and took a giant to exhale. “Too late to turn back?”

  Oh, wonderful, he thought, making an awkward smile instead.

  Carefully, they ascended the charred hillside until they broke to the crest of the ridge. Slowly, they crawled on their bellies until they could see with their own eyes what unpredictable magic lay beyond. It was an army clad in armor with cruel blades. They were chanting whilst congregating into battle formations. Abbott counted at least five-hundred men, but then there were things he couldn’t count because he didn’t understand what they were.

  A leader in the forefront, mounted on a horse, blew a cattle-like horn producing a menacing sound not heard by the ears of good. The armies cheered as the blood call echoed.