Spawn of Fury

by Sean Hinn

  She could not tell Kade how she truly felt. She could not even risk him catching a glimpse of her feelings through the Link. She was afraid. Terrified. Nishali possessed a connection with the land that surpassed all other rangers, hence her title as First. Hierarchy in the Rangers of Thornwood was determined by one thing, above all else: the degree to which an elf could sense the land. The wisdom to be gained by hearing the breath of the world, perceiving the beat of its heart, and feeling the touch of its spirit were the essence of being a ranger, and among all her kind, Nishali Windwillow felt these things deepest.

  It was for this reason she knew fear, and she knew her Second would sense the terror of the land nearly as keenly as she did. A ranger could not be one with the land yet separate from it; to become a ranger was a Joining, and when one Joined with the land, they felt what it felt. Nishali did not need to climb a tree to see the tendrils of smoke that rose from Tahr. She could feel them. She did not need to listen for insects that were not there; she could sense the emptiness in the bellies of the birds. She did not need to witness life being extinguished as lava poured from Fang’s yawning mouth; she could hear the cries of the trapped and terrified wildlife, the creatures unable to escape the creeping flows of molten rock.

  How could one feel these things, and not be afraid? she asked herself, desperate for absolution. But she found none in logic. Long ago she named fear a weakness, and those who would succumb to it craven. And so, she ran, vainly hoping to outpace her cowardice. It matched her, stride for stride.

  The day wore on and Nishali ran, never slowing, dropping the glowing orbs behind her, marking a path for those who would follow. The terrain became more challenging as night fell and the forests thickened, but still she did not diminish her pace. With every stride, she distanced herself from her Second. And that was her objective. At some point she would rest, and when she did so, she wished to be alone. She ran, and climbed, and leapt, and ran some more. Ordinarily for Nishali, in times of peace and plenty, leading a Swarm was her freedom, her escape from the bothersome prattling of her rangers. She loved them, to be sure, and would die for any, but she liked few enough. Nishali liked few elves in total, and even those she could only tolerate for brief stretches of time. The ranger liked the land. She liked the Twins. She liked the sweet fresh air between the two. She liked the animals she would encounter, even those that would do her harm. There was an honesty in nature, a feral set of laws that made sense to her. A bear did not deceive. A wolf did not pretend at friendship. Animals mated when they wished to breed, ate when they were hungry, fought when they were threatened. They slept when they were tired. Nishali understood laws such as these. They were not founded in conceit, nor in reverence to another. There were no traditions in the wild. If a thing needed to change, it changed. If it did not, it died. Simple. Neat. Brutal at times, but fair. Left alone, nature always found a balance. If predators became too numerous, they would starve. If prey thrived, new predators would emerge. Everything ate everything else, but never to excess, and never in vain. It was this very balance that was now threatened, and Nishali was heartbroken.

  Near to midnight she turned southeast along the Eastmaw foothills that indicated she had come as far south as the Grove. She crossed a small stream and filled her waterskin, expending a small magic to remove the ash from the water. She lit an orb and looked around; here, she decided, she would rest. The ranger was bone tired. She had run for two and one-half days and had relied only very little on her magic for strength. She could run straight to G’naath if she needed to–but if she did not rest, none of her rangers would. She felt pride at that; her elves were the finest of Thornwood, to her mind.

  Nishali found a secluded area between two large boulders. She removed her cloak and the pack beneath it and strung her bow for the first time since leaving Thornwood. She did not expect trouble so far from civilization, but occasional bands of men from Mor were known to travel the hills of the Eastmaw in search of rare minerals, and she was not far from the trails they frequented. As she unpacked her tent, she decided she would forgo a fire; despite the chill, she preferred to not attract undue attention. By the light of the orb she brushed herself somewhat clean of ash, pitched her tent, and crawled within it. She ate a few handfuls of dried fruit and nuts, took several long pulls from her waterskin, and lay down to sleep.

  The ranger’s last thought as she drifted into slumber was a dark one.

  How many more dawns before this nightmare truly begins?

  ~

  A chill breeze blustered through the First Ranger’s tent flaps at dawn, and Nishali awakened to a light coat of snow covering the ashen lands of the Eastmaw. She stretched her limbs and shivered slightly against the cold air as she emerged from her tent. A deep breath and a narrowed focus would exchange some of her life’s energy for warmth, but she decided against it; there would be little enough warmth to be had in the days ahead, and she would withstand the cold naturally if she could. She did, however, reach out with her Link, seeking her Tenth. As expected, they lay sleeping less than a hundred paces north of her own campsite. Thank you, Kade, she thought, for sensing my need for privacy.

  Nishali decided she would let them sleep until midday. Enjoying the rare opportunity for leisure, she took her time gathering deadwood for a fire. The task was challenging given the layers of ash and snow that blanketed the land, and though she could have accelerated the task with magic, she chose not to. In time she gathered what she needed. Fortunately, the moisture of the snow had not yet soaked the kindling she found; the coat of ash covering the ground had provided some insulation. Using her belt knife, she shaved an oak branch into a fine tinder, allowing a miniscule employment of her magic for a spark. Soon she found herself enjoying a bowl of boiled grainmeal and honey, and her melancholy of the night before was kept at bay by the small sense of personal accomplishment.

  We use magic for too much, she considered as she ate. A good life does not require it, not nearly so much as my people would think. The idea was one shared by most rangers. As most elven magic required, above all else, the life force of the elf to give it power, each use would necessarily shorten the lifespan of the caster. Among all elves, rangers tended to value life most, and for as long as Nishali could remember, there had always been debate as to the reason. Some felt that the ties to the land made a ranger appreciate the worth of living things more acutely. Others thought it was the other way around: the gentle nature of some made them better suited to attune with the land, and thus become rangers.

  Nishali knew her own nature was far from gentle. Her peers considered her abrasive, unyielding; her subordinates viewed her with a mix of antipathy and awe. Only two elves, to Nishali’s mind, understood her to be that which she considered herself: passionate. Only her Second, Kade Calayaan, and her queen, Terrias Evanti, seemed to understand that her aversion to her own kind was no aversion at all; she merely possessed a preference for, and appreciation of, solitude and the air of the Wood, and by comparison, all else paled. She felt quite strongly that her unique, innate perception of the needs of the land, combined with a desire to remain ever connected to it, was not a learned thing, nor a chosen thing, but rather a gift from the First Father himself, and with that gift came a responsibility – one she carried out in earnest. Nishali knew she was different; she was quite self-aware. She knew that her choice, if it was ever a choice, to spend her days in communion with the flora and fauna of Tahr had necessarily resulted in a social deficiency; only Kade and her queen ever seemed to understand as much.

  Kade shared her opinions on the uses of magic. To trade a minor comfort, or the accomplishment of a smallish task, for moments of life itself – to Kade this was an abomination. Most rangers felt the same, if not at first, then certainly later in life as they gained wisdom and experience. Ah, but do we not all begin to consider our mortality as we age? Nishali considered. Yet, even as she had the thought, she knew she rarely gave death a moment’s consideration. She would be nearing her centennial
year soon, but by anyone’s account did not look a day over fifty. Nor did she feel anything but young, in her body at least. In truth, Nishali always thought she would have been best born a Stone Elf; she shared their deep sense of responsibility for the world. She shunned the vain use of trivial magics. And, given how well she was aging, she would likely outlive everyone she knew, barring the meeting of some violent end. Like my predecessor. But the Stone Elves had gone, not heard from in many, many centuries, not since the Splintering of the elven people that sent the Airies west and the Stone Elves north. Their divergences of opinion on the uses of magic had caused a rift among the elves, bringing Thornwood very near to civil war, and the only solution was for each of the factions to live their lives separate from one another, as they saw fit. Yet, as Nishali knew all too well, the solution was only a temporary one: among the people of Thornwood, those same differences of opinion had again evolved. She expected that again, someday, the conflict would come to a head. What then? And was it the same today with the Stone Elves and Airies? Do their people bicker on the matter today as we do?

  Nishali shook her head, weary of considering the subject. It did not matter; the three factions would likely never unite. She vaguely knew that Aria and the Vicaris were on a mission to Eyreloch for some reason; if it was an alliance they sought, Nishali did not expect their embassy to bear fruit. The ranger dismissed her concern of the matter; she had enough of her own responsibilities to contend with, not the least of which was leading a Swarm of rangers to the Maw, assembling a joint assault force with the knights of Thornwood, and possibly engaging in battle with the people of G’naath to prevent them from breaking the world. As she sat in quiet awe considering how much had changed in Tahr in less than two cycles, her Link told her that her Tenth was beginning to stir. Quickly, she packed her belongings and made her way north to meet them. She approached the small encampment to find Kade lighting a fire.

  “Peace this day,” he greeted her.

  “Peace,” she repeated in a monotone, unconvinced that the blessings would apply that day.

  “Have you eaten?” asked Kade.

  “I have, thank you. And thank you for letting me rest. I have enjoyed the quiet of the morning.”

  “I am glad of it. We may have little quiet for some time.” He stood, his fire sufficient to sustain itself, and moved closer to the First Ranger, speaking softly. “And… forgive my despair yesterday. You are right, we must lead from a position of strength.”

  Nishali beheld her friend. “Perhaps. But I was also harsh. Perna ni.” She bowed her head subtly.

  “Abso, Nishali.”

  “Have you been in contact with the other Tenths?”

  “Your rangers come. No delays, no injuries, save a few bruises.”

  Nishali nodded. “Good. Let us prepare for the day, then.”

  The rest of the Tenth gradually made their way from their tents. A few ate dried meals, others shared variations of Nishali’s grainmeal breakfast. Within less than an hour, all had packed their gear and were ready to move out.

  Nishali addressed her Tenth. “We will make for the Maw today, and with steady haste, but we will be cautious. The snow and ash will make footing difficult. I will keep the lead,” Kade moved to object; a look from Nishali held his tongue. “Let us keep to one another’s footprints, where possible. The slightest injury or twisted knee, and I want to know of it. Understood?”

  Nishali turned and broke south, not waiting for acknowledgement. Her rangers followed closely, and the Tenth made excellent time – for a short while. Near to midafternoon, as they reached the center of a clearing directly west of Fang, Nishali froze. Her rangers froze with her.

  “What… what is that?” Kade asked, breathing heavily, sensing the same disruption in the land that stopped his First Ranger.

  Nishali exchanged a glance with her Second. The members of the Tenth turned towards the volcano as one.

  Kade said aloud what everyone already knew. “Tahrquake! Brace yourselves!”

  The quake came, but it was quite unlike the one they had experienced in Thornwood. That one had been unfathomably violent. This one… the ground swelled and receded in slow, undulating waves. Nishali kept her eyes on Fang, focusing intently, drawing the scene closer with her elven magic, wary of a violent eruption that would threaten their position, but also sensing… something. The waves of unrest continued for nearly a turn, and Nishali’s focus did not waver. Finally, as the last of the waves receded, she saw it.

  Nishali extended a trembling hand to her Second’s shoulder. Her legs buckled. Her fingers brushed the top of Kade’s head as he fell to his knees in terror. The mighty rangers of Thornwood shuddered and cowered as they watched the dark horror emerge, crimson clumps of molten lava dripping from its wings as it flew from the mouth of the volcano.

  III: THE MORLINE

  Barris chided himself.

  In his haste to rendezvous with his knights after the terrible events in the throne room, Barris had failed to adequately ensure he was not followed. Now, regrettably, he would need to strike fear into the heart of his pursuer. He turned Phantom south into a small clearing, away from the Mawline, the east-west trail that ran roughly parallel to and a half-day’s ride south of the Morline. The knight drew his sword and waited.

  He did not need to wait long. After a few turns he heard the unmistakable beat of approaching hooves. He dismounted Phantom and crouched beside the road. A light brown paint carrying his pursuer rounded the bend. Barris inhaled, applying a small blending magic, camouflaging his form to match the grey ash-covered foliage. His pursuer passed without noticing him. Barris sprang out onto the trail behind the horse and rider.

  “NIKALUS!”

  The young boy ducked low in his saddle, as if avoiding a crossbow bolt. Barris could not help but smile at the effect but forced a frown as Nikalus slowed and turned his mount. He walked Champ back towards the knight.

  “Dang, Sir Barris! Whadja go an’ do that for? You about scared the pants off me!”

  Barris hefted his sword. “I wish that I had, so when I lay the flat of this blade across your thighs you will remember it! Dismount and come here, you foolish child!”

  Nikalus’ eyes widened for an instant, but his expression quickly turned skeptical.

  “Naw, you wouldn’t…”

  “I would, and I will! Now dismount!”

  The boy was not convinced. “Naw, you’re a good man, er, elf. You wouldn’t never hit no kid…” Nikalus remained mounted. Barris held the boy’s gaze, his expression fierce. Nikalus blanched, a bit, tightening his hold on Champ’s reins. “I mean, ya wouldn’t, would ya?”

  Barris did the best he could to keep up the guise of being angry at the boy, but in the end, seeing the beginnings of fear in the boy, he was unequal to the deception. He sheathed his sword with a sigh and whistled for Phantom to join them.

  “No, Nikalus. I would not. But you are a fool. You cannot accompany me.”

  “Aw, c’mon, Sir Barris, I don’t wanna go to no Grove–”

  “And why not? The Grove is beautiful and serene. It is the most peaceful place in all of Tahr at the moment.” Barris had not even finished speaking before he wished he could put the words back in his mouth. A boy of Nikalus’ age would crave anything but serenity when adventure was the alternative.

  “I wanna come with you, Sir Barris! Ya know I can help! Look how good I took care o’ Phantom!” As if on cue, the great black stallion approached, gently bumping Champ and greeting his friend Nikalus.

  “An elven knight does not take a squire, Nikalus. It is not our way.”

  “Then don’t make me no squire! I can just, I dunno, help.”

  Barris’ tone gentled. “I know you could, and I thank you, truly. But I may be going to war, and a battlefield is no place–”

  “War? Who you goin’ to war with?” Again, Barris regretted his words as the boy’s excitement piqued. Nikalus turned in the saddle, looking east up the trail “Wait, are you gonna fi
ght the dwarves? What’d they do?”

  Barris sighed again. “No, Nikalus. The dwarves are our allies.”

  “Wait, so the gnomes then? Them little folk? Well, that just don’t make–”

  “Quiet!” Barris interrupted suddenly, holding up a hand. Phantom stamped uneasily. Champ began to shy away. Barris quickly moved to stand between the two horses, placing a hand on each, initiating his Bond.

  He turned to the boy. “You must relax now, Nikalus. Do not be afraid. Do you understand me?”

  He clearly did not, but he nodded nonetheless. A moment later, a rumbling sound from the north and east began, increasing in volume, its source getting closer. Barris and Nikalus barely had time to register the swaying of the trees on the northern side of the trail before the first wave of the quake lifted the ground upon which they stood. Nikalus cried out, grasping frantically at the horn of his saddle, but to no avail. The jolt threw him from Champ and he landed hard onto the trail, just as a second roiling wave jumped to meet him. Barris heard a snap. Nikalus inhaled sharply and let out a scream to shatter glass.

  The rocking continued for what seemed to Barris like an impossibly long period of time as the boy continued to bounce and cry. Barris could not help him yet; if he did not maintain his Bond with the horses, they could very well trample the boy. He held his position, wincing against each howl from the boy, riding the waves of the tahrquake, calming the horses with all his strength. Mercifully, the quake finally stopped, and Barris maneuvered his way around Champ to Nikalus.

  The boy was out of breath; he could scream no more. He alternated between reaching for his left calf and throwing himself against the ground in agony. Barris could not see blood; the fracture had likely not pierced his skin, but a quick examination made clear that the boy’s shin bone was fractured.

  Barris placed his hands on Nikalus’ thigh, pouring magic into the boy to numb his pain. The effect was instantaneous, but far from total. The pain had dulled enough for the boy to draw breath, but his moans broke Barris’ heart.