Such was the closing of the paths.
As for how I’d been brought here? I was no ordinary woman from Earth, but Aerisia’s Artan. I hadn’t been brought through the ancient paths but through some form of Moonkind magic, perhaps similar to what they used when they were forced to leave their first home and create new lives for themselves on the shores of Aerisia.
And were there no surviving remnants of these legends upon Earth? she’d inquired. Nothing on my home world that I could trace back as stemming from Earth’s forgotten friendship with Aerisia?
As she was relaying this information, my mind had been whirring. Who, I asked myself, on Earth hasn’t heard about dragons, giants, and fairies, magic, and immortality? Who hasn’t seen fantasy art, read fantasy novels, or watched fantasy movies? Who can’t name at least a dozen fairytales off the top of their head?
The stories I’d known back home of trolls and monsters, boogiemen and magic; fables told and retold with multiple variations, but the same basic elements the world over…could it be that all of these things were founded upon a long-ago, long-forgotten friendship with Aerisia? That, even though memory of the world itself hadn’t survived, elements of it had?
Incredibly, I was now aware that the basis of these things wasn't fantasy at all, but as much a reality and way of life in another place as electricity is on Earth. It all boiled down to two worlds with two different ways of life. After all, fables are usually grounded in truth, and fiction’s basis is often reality. It seemed that was certainly the case here.
That explains a lot, I thought sleepily before drifting off.
Not quite everything, like why these stubborn Aerisians believed I was their Artan in the first place, but it had opened up a whole new universe of thought.
Morning
Very early the next morning, with dawn’s breaking streaking the sky, the Simathe High-Chief went to awaken his charge. She yawned and sat up when he shook her shoulder, pushing tangled wisps of brown hair out of her eyes.
A sleepy smile. “Good morning.”
“And to you. Take this.” Ilgard offered her a steaming cup of tea.
Before accepting it, she shifted her legs, sitting cross-legged on her bedding. Lifting the cup to her lips, she inhaled the steam rising from the warm liquid. Carefully, she took a sip.
“Thank you. It’s nice and hot. Feels good on a cool morning.” She gathered her blue cloak about her bare shoulders, looked around and inquired, “Where’s Aureeyah?”
The Simathe stood from where he’d been kneeling before her fire, coaxing last night’s embers to life.
“Gone.”
“Gone? She left?”
“Aye.”
“How come?”
Disappointment clouded her voice. He saw hurt on her face. For a moment, he pitied her.
“I cannot say,” he responded. “She spoke with you last night. Not me.”
“Yeah,” she sighed mournfully. “But she didn’t say anything about leaving.” Again she sighed, her shoulders rising and falling. Taking another sip of her tea, she slumped against the stone behind her, clearly wanting to brood.
“I’ll fetch you food.”
As he went about the task, the High-Chief wondered why she seemed so put out by the fairy’s departure. Perhaps she thought she’d found a friend only to have the fairy disappear with no word of farewell. As a stranger here, she was undoubtedly lonely, lonelier now than at the start of this journey. Still, there was little he could do to ease her burdens.
Soon, he was back at her side. “Food, my lady.”
“I’m not hungry,” she said dejectedly, not bothering to look up.
He felt a measure of irritation, and wanted to bid her dismiss her melancholy. No. He could not do that. She was not a child, nor one of his warriors. She was his responsibility. Reminding himself of this, he knelt next to her in the grass. She glanced up sharply, but he ignored her surprise, pointing beyond them to the sprawling meadow beginning to awaken from last night’s sleep.
“Look there. You see? Although she has departed, here is the evidence of her work. You are honored she spent this time with you, welcoming you to her home. A fairy has many responsibilities, and cannot tarry in one place.”
Her gaze followed the track of his finger, settling on the far field. Waves of mist rose and disappeared in the bars of red-gold sunlight falling across the rippling grasses. Flowers of every hue poked up from the sea of green. Tiny butterflies flitted joyfully from one colorful petal to the next. As her eyes traveled around the vale, her shoulders rose, the sadness leaving her face.
He rested his hand briefly on her shoulder. “Fear not, my lady. I think you’ve not seen the last of your fairy.”
“Thank you,” she whispered.
He nodded. “Eat now. I’ll send a warrior to fetch your things. To reach Treygon tonight, we must depart.”
“Treygon?”
She glanced up, the single word an anxious question.
He’d no response to give other than a simple “Aye” before rising. He must oversee preparations for their departure, and she needed to eat. She would see his home soon enough.
Attack
That day passed as slowly as the one before. Maybe slower, since there was no talking, no smiles, and no communication. As we left the forest sometime around noon, I turned in my saddle for a final, lingering glance, hoping against hope to see Aureeyah standing at the edge of the trees.
My hope was in vain. Once more I faced forward, trying to quell the disappointment and comfort myself with memories of home and family. I recalled past birthdays, Father’s Days, Christmases, and Thanksgivings. I thought about my family, wondering where they were right at this moment and what they were doing. Did they miss me? What did they think had happened to me? Would I ever see them again?
Lost in thoughts of home, this time I didn’t even notice it was well past midday before we stopped for lunch. We didn’t take a long lunch break, either, but ate on the backs of our mounts, permitted only a few minutes on the ground to stretch our legs. Water, hard-baked bread, and dried meat were the staples of our meal, like they had been this whole stupid trip.
“I sure hope the food at Treygon is better than this,” I mumbled around a mouthful of spicy, chewy meat. It was hard to chew. Made my teeth and jaws ache.
Lord Ilgard, always nearby, overheard the complaint. “My lady?”
I swallowed hard, forcing down a lump that didn’t want to cooperate. “Nothing.”
He let the subject drop and left me alone, which was fine. The man was impossible to figure out, I mused while eating. He was never what could be called nice, but he had his softer moments. Like last night in the cave when I kept thinking I saw things, or this morning when I’d awakened to discover Aureeyah’s disappearance.
Maybe there was hope for him yet?
I risked a stealthy glance over at the Simathe lord, only to see him tear off a bite of meat every bit as tough as mine with no more difficulty than if he’d been eating a soft dinner roll. I winced.
Maybe not.
The day was darkening, but it wasn’t the peaceful shadows of twilight overtaking the sky. The day was tranquil, but it wasn’t the calm stillness of a summer day drawing to a contented close. A cool breeze whipped up, teasing strands of hair out of the braid I’d replaited this morning. The force of it blew and tangled my horse’s mane. Pulling my cloak tightly about my shoulders, I studied the foreboding sky. Dark clouds scudded across its face, gathering into an ominous, sinister mass.
“It’s going to storm,” I announced.
A needless comment in light of the obvious signs, but I felt like I had to draw my companions’ attention to the fact. They were plodding along, every now and then casting a glance upward, but otherwise appeared unconcerned.
A raindrop hit the tip of my nose, sliding over my lips. I wiped it away. “Shouldn’t we look for shelter?”
I hated storms. As a child, I would quiver under the blankets while they ra
ged outside my bedroom window. When the thunder was so loud it shook the house, I would run to my parents’ room, where I’d be held tight and comforted until the furor had passed.
As an adult, naturally I no longer ran to my parents, but I still disliked storms. Holding my breath and counting the seconds between lightning flashes and peals of thunder, I could never fall asleep until the fury had abated. This oncoming storm was triggering an assault of memories, and I couldn’t tear my gaze from the threatening sky.
Another raindrop hit my gloved hand. Its twin splashed the tip of my ear. My hands were starting to tremble. The wind picked up again, rustling the tall grass on either side of the road. Other than that, there were no noises and, besides our party, no signs of any living creatures. All was eerily silent: the calm before the storm. My horse was tense, its ears pricked. Thunder rolled in the distance, and he shook his head nervously. Lightning flashed among the clouds. The storm was still several miles away, but moving closer.
I couldn’t stand it anymore. “High-Chief, please, can’t we find shelter? I don’t want to be out in this!”
Unsurprisingly, the man was far from alarmed. “It is only a storm that will pass.”
His unruffled demeanor made my anger boil. Jerking my horse to a stop, I rounded on him furiously. “I know it’s only a storm,” I yelled, rising in the stirrups. “I don’t care! I don’t want to be caught in it! What’s wrong with you?”
Those pit-black eyes narrowed angrily, and I plunked back down. Suddenly, the gaze pinning me was more frightening than the imminent storm. What was I thinking, shouting at him like that? Was I crazy?
“Look about you,” he lashed out, a keen edge to his voice the storm could never hope to match. “Is there anywhere to take shelter?”
I scanned the area desperately. The man had a point, even if I hated to admit it. The countryside was all sprawling fields interspersed with grey boulders, large and small. A few scrubby trees dotted the landscape, while mountains loomed large in the distance. There were no houses, no caves, no large trees, no roofs to hide under.
What to do? What to do?
Inside their gloves, my hands were openly shaking.
“The rain will not harm you. We ride.”
That was Lord Ilgard. The man was implacable.
He and his men spurred their horses forward, but I refused to budge. As he passed by, the Simathe leaned from his saddle, catching my horse by the bridle. The animal followed meekly…until I sawed angrily on the reins, making him whip his head to the side and tear loose from the Simathe’s grasp.
Directly overhead, thunder boomed. I panicked and jumped, my silver spurs raking my horse’s flanks. Already spooked, this proved too much for the frightened beast. He bolted down the trail, taking me with him. Gripping the pommel with one hand and the reins in the other, I held on with all my strength. I don’t know how long we ran, or how far, before it happened. Thunder crashed, followed by a brilliant flash of lightning. It struck me, yet it didn’t. One moment I was tearing along at breakneck speed, and the next—a boom, a flash, and I was enfolded in a dazzling veil of white.
Time morphed into a murky soup of air, space, and speed. Beneath me, my horse struggled to run, but it was like moving in slow motion. My body felt frozen, my motions sluggish, and my fingers unresponsive as they tried to relax their grip on the saddle horn and reins.
A fierce rush of wind blasted us, knocking my horse off his feet. I was still clinging to his back and fell with him, winding up with one leg pinned beneath his weight. Terror, obscene and sudden, flooded me like a wave as I lay helpless on the wet grass. I opened my mouth to scream, but no sound came out.
That brightness was all around, within, and about me, holding me powerless in its suffocating grip. I was no longer conscious of the raging storm. Nothing was left except white light and choking panic. Thunder crashed a fourth time, and in its sonorous peals I heard an evil voice. No, I heard the voice of evil. Over and over it called my name, the echoes rolling and crashing like waves against a rocky shore.
“Hannah,” it called. “Lady Hannah, the Artan. Hannah. Lady Hannah, the Artan. Mighty deliverer from Earth. Have you come to save these people, this land, from me? From me?”
A face materialized, filling the sky over my head, the face of a gleaming white skull. Formed from the white light enclosing me, vacant eye sockets and a fleshless mouth smiled a hideous smile as it loomed over me, slowly descending.
“From me, Hannah? From me, Lady Artan? From me?”
Nonsensical words. Hideous phrases. I couldn’t figure them out. I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. I babbled a mindless, “No, no, no!” My head shook from side to side. My horse didn’t move. Was he dead?
Now the face was upon me, its jaws gaping as if to swallow me whole. In the midst of my panic I reacted, throwing my arms into the air in a defensive posture. I touched something tangible; a tremendous weight pressed me down. My arms shook as I fought to keep from being crushed.
“No,” I screamed. “No! Get away from me, leave me alone!”
No response at first, then the weight withdrew ever so slightly. Encouraged, I continued shouting commands and denials, not even knowing what I was actually saying. There was a pause, one that seemed to last forever. And then, amazingly, the face began to fade. After another breathless moment of horror and hope, I was able to pick myself up, rising as far as my pinned leg would allow. With both hands thrust against my opponent, I continued pushing the terrible weight while screaming for it to leave. New life flooded my veins, and my voice strengthened. To my indescribable relief, as I regained strength, my enemy seemed to lose his.
“Leave!” I shouted once more. “Leave me alone!”
This time, as the words fled my lips, a strange steam of blue light leapt from my fingertips, careened upward, and slammed against the grinning skull. The thing’s jaws parted in a hideous, gurgling scream not unlike that of the drocnords. Power, sheer power, replaced any fear, and suddenly I was strong and invincible. There was only this moment, this battle, and the magic of the blue brilliance bursting from my outstretched hands.
The monster’s second scream shook the earth. I wanted to double over and press my hands to my ears, but the magic wouldn’t let me go. Another stupendously loud crash of thunder, accompanied by the most brilliant flash of lightning yet. Both the skull and the menacing white light blasted upward, a fountain of radiance that sprayed the clouds, fading into the next lightning bolt that raced across the sky.
The instant they were gone, my cerulean light fled as well, and all vigor drained from my limbs. A heavy shudder convulsed my body, and I toppled backward into the soft mud. Heavy rain drummed on my face, droplets coursing down my cheeks like tears. The last thing I remember thinking was that the storm seemed to be vanishing into the distance.
Consciousness fled.
My eyes closed.
The world went black.
Deathcats
He had to reach her.
Her horse, frightened as much by its nervous rider as the storm, had bolted down the narrow trail. They had not gotten far before lightning split the sky, its jagged edges slanting directly toward the woman fleeing on horseback. In an instant, both horse and rider were swallowed by a great, blinding flash of light. Rather than diminish, this searing light grew rapidly, steadily. It pained his eyes, causing both the Simathe lord and his men to fling protective arms across their faces.
The attack came in that one instant of being caught off guard.
They were the most feared predators of the plains: felines larger than an ox, yet endowed with supernatural grace, cunning, and speed. Many Aerisians swore they were as intelligent as humans. Gazing into the depraved, yellow eyes of the beast that came at him from nowhere, the Simathe High-Chief could readily believe it.
Usually they hunted alone, or in small prides of twos and threes. Deathcats never attacked in the strong force of fifty or more now threatening to overrun his company. In the initial on
slaught, several of his warriors went down wounded, their horses killed outright. But in short order, decades of training and experience rose to the fore. Closing ranks, backs to one another, the Simathe protected the wounded in their midst. Blades gleamed brightly in the intermittent flashes of lightning, only to be plunged in and pulled out a dull red. Blood was everywhere, fouling the air with its peculiar stench. The screams of wounded horses and dying deathcats filled the night.
Against normal human strength, the deathcats would almost certainly have prevailed. Nevertheless, the tenacious Simathe could not die, and in the end it was their attackers who fled, leaving the tired, gory group behind. Those who were able to flee, that is. Many of the beasts lay dead or dying upon the trampled, blood- and rain-matted grass. Those still living would not breathe much longer.
Throughout the whole ordeal, one thought pounded desperately in the High-Chief’s brain.
I have to reach her.
The girl he’d sworn to protect had been swallowed whole by that consuming flash of light. Was she dead? Injured? Were Aerisia’s hopes already doomed? So suddenly? And under his watch?
He fought harder, the desire to reach his Artan second only to the maddening desire to kill—to destroy the beasts who’d attacked without warning. At last, skirmish over and enemy defeated, those of his men who were uninjured dispersed to assist their wounded comrades and mounts. Some ensured that no deathcats clinging to life would live to breed more of their kind.
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