The Keeper's Heritage

by Trenna McMullin

  Joran nodded, “There’s nothing there…” He squinted, tilting his head to the side, “I guess I do see a faint shimmer—like you get from heat waves off hot sand.”

  Ky’ara pursed her lips thoughtfully. “Go get Taren,” she said finally, “he may want to see this.”

  “But—” Joran hesitated.

  “I’m fine Joran, just go. She isn’t going to hurt me.”

  The boy sighed and turned around, jogging back up the beach. Ky’ara turned back to find the floating light had vanished.

  Nisse? She asked tentatively.

  I’m over here, silly mortal. Ky’ara looked around, finally locating the nymph by the sound of her playful splashing, back in the wave.

  “How…? Why can I see you but my friend could not?” Ky’ara asked.

  Nisse stopped splashing and leaned back as though sitting in a chair. She lounged gracefully in the water, unmoved by the waves, apparently held in place by nothing.

  It simply is. You can see me, he cannot. I could choose to hide myself from you, if I so desired, but from him I am hidden whether I desire it or no.

  Ky’ara shook her head, trying to fathom how such a creature could exist—could be visible and not ever have been heard of…but then, if the government had tried to obscure so much of history, why not this too? Or maybe so few could see them (or they were so few?) that the Destroyer did not know of their existence?

  The Dark One knows, Nisse interrupted Ky’ara’s musing, though they view us as little threat. We are but little blips of power, easily snuffed should they so desire…or so we have allowed them to believe. But we have tired of the game and now the servant seeks to pollute the land and water with the shadows of his dealings in Death—this we cannot tolerate. Water is where and how we exist…at least, my kind. My sisters in the air and land too have felt the disturbance.

  Ky’ara struggled to follow the little creature’s rant, sensing the anger that stirred beneath her words. She was not sure what Nisse meant, but she suspected that the shadow magic she had seen at the destroyed farmhouse and the oppressive magic-dulling qualities of the mist had something to do with it.

  Yes of course! Can you not feel the wrongness? Nisse flew out of the water, sprinkling Ky’ara with drops as she came to hover once more before her face. But enough of the blindness of mortals…I bespoke you because I sensed turmoil in your mind. What is it that troubles you?

  Ky’ara frowned, obviously many things troubled her—including what they had been speaking of before.

  The mist troubles you. But not because it is Dark, no it is because it reminds you of the Island.

  Ky’ara stared at the impudently grinning fairy, startled by her deduction, and nodded slowly. “I have a recurring dream, with a mist covered island, but I never see what is there…

  And the not knowing causes you frustration.

  Ky’ara shrugged. “It is irritating. But that is only a silly bit of curiosity. What truly troubles me is that we have been searching for the lost city, but we cannot get more than bits and pieces about its disappearance let alone how to find it.”

  Nisse chuckled, an oddly bell like sound. Your worries are one and the same, dear mortal. The place you seek is the isle you dream of…it is not here, but in the place between—the realm in which we are born… Perhaps it would be better to show you…

  Nisse turned and dove into the water, flying back out again with a stream of water behind her. The water fell in a smooth sheet nearly to the ground and a picture formed on its pane-like surface. The blurry image grew more crisp and clear until Ky’ara could distinctly see a tall stone building swimming in mist. Evidence of a battle showed plainly in the broken parapets and scattered stone surrounding what Ky’ara took to be a library (there was a scroll engraved on the doors). The image drew outwards, revealing the ruins of what must have once been a large city.

  “Eléirathös,” Ky’ara breathed. She almost reached out to touch the picture, it was so close…

  See and remember, Nisse directed.

  The picture continued to draw outwards, revealing an island in the middle of a mist covered lake, then a stream that connected to the lake and traveled through a forest. It went on like this for a minute or so, showing the location of Eléirathös by following a winding, circuitous route that followed the waterways. Ky’ara looked on in wonder as the image showed Taren, Joran, and herself standing at the edge of a small pond—a place she vaguely remembered passing on their journey here—but the image was clearly of the future. A small light floated in the water; Ky’ara leaned forward to see if it was another fairy…Nisse suddenly shrieked in pain and the picture flickered, turning black and then flashing a single image—a set of bone pipes, cracked, blackened with soot, and shrouded in darkness—before shattering into millions of little drops and falling to the ground.

  Ky’ara froze, an icy fear gripping her heart and sending a flash of pain through her arm and back—shadows of the injuries she had received last time she had faced those pipes. He can’t be alive! I saw him disappear…but she had seen him die once before, run through with a razor sharp blade and fallen to the ground—why did she think her unfocused spell had finished him when Hallahna’s glaive had not? The cold gripped her, lingering with an actual physical chill…

  “Ky’ara look out!” Taren’s voice startled her from her daze. She turned to see him and Joran running towards her just as a dagger whipped past her face and buried itself in the shoulder of a shadowy creature that had appeared by her side. She reacted instantly, lurching backwards, drawing her sword, and slashing the creature in the same motion. Her blade passed through its form easily, burning as it went and drawing an eerily human scream from the creature as it dissolved into smoke.

  She didn’t even have time to thank Joran—if his knife had not distracted it she would have been too slow—before she became aware of three more shadow creatures which had appeared where the water/mirror had once hung. She turned back to face them as Taren and Joran arrived at her side. They had no time to exchange words before the creatures attacked. Although the vaguely humanoid shadows carried no weapons, they posed a significant threat by striking out with their elongated arms and evading attacks in quick, fluid movements that were impossible to predict. Joran cried out as one slipped past his guard and landed a blow on his shoulder.

  Taren was quick to bestow retribution, slicing the creature from neck to waist and forcing it back a few paces. Unfortunately his sword did no lasting damage—in only a few seconds, shadows knit the gash back together, leaving no sign after a wound that would have destroyed or at least incapacitated anything else. Ky’ara felt an irrational surge of satisfaction that he had failed…at least he needed her for something. The petty emotion was quickly followed by a moment of heart-stopping fear as the creature lunged for him. She reacted almost before the thought could complete itself, driving her sword through the shadow’s back while yanking Taren out of the way with a spell. The creature dissolved just as the first had.

  Ky’ara turned to face the remaining two, only to see that they had been joined by yet another dark shadow, this one a little more solid looking. Then Joran cried out a warning and she turned to see him pointing to two more shadows converging on them from the right. Gritting her teeth, she raised her sword and briefly wondered how she could possibly have felt happy that the boys were helpless against this threat…she was going to have a hard time doing this on her own.

  Chapter 7: Darkness Falls

  Sukylar woke with a start, the lumpy straw mattress letting off a puff of dust as he rolled to his feet and grabbed his weapons. Something was not right. It only took a moment for his eyes to scan the room and ascertain that the threat was not here. He dressed quickly and slung his pack across his back. Only a moment’s hesitation—door or window?—and he was out the latter, nimbly swinging himself up to the rooftop. The neighboring building was close enough that it was a simple matter to cross the intervening space. In only five minutes he’d gone from asl
eep in bed to fully armed and hidden strategically behind the attic dormer of the tailor’s shop next door. He peered out warily from his hiding place, looking for the source of his unease.

  The streets were far from empty—in a town like Brume the inhabitants were used to conducting their business at odd hours—but Sukylar was fairly certain no one had witnessed his rather acrobatic exit. He carefully scanned the street. None of the somewhat shifty-eyed pedestrians struck him as particularly dangerous. The alarm must have come from something else…even when careful observation revealed no apparent threat, Sukylar wasn’t about to dismiss his intuition just yet. His training had taught him never to ignore feelings of fear—the subconscious mind was often far more astute than the conscious…especially in a world where magical occurrences could cause danger in seemingly innocent surroundings.

  There. Behind the corner of the inn a momentary shadow caught his attention. It was just a flicker of darkness, a brief sense of cold. Sukylar frowned. He didn’t know what it was, but it certainly wasn’t friendly…and for some reason he was certain it was after him. Better not to be nearby when it discovered he was no longer in the building. He silently eased himself over the ridge of the roof and carefully made his way to the furthest corner from the inn. Here the eaves provided decent enough handholds that he was able to lower himself off the roof and then shimmy down a corner post.

  Sukylar headed down the street nonchalantly, sticking to the least visible areas without broadcasting his desire for stealth. When he had two streets between himself and the inn, he increased his pace. He was anxious to be out of town as quickly as possible, but he wanted to stop by Vivek’s first, just in case. The old scoundrel may have found something already. Also, Sukylar felt obligated to warn his friend against whatever it was that was tracking him.

  Too late. The door to Vivek’s house was open just a crack, something the old man never would have allowed. Sukylar slipped inside cautiously, drawing his blades as he went. The entryway was empty, but something smelled rancid. He followed the smell down the hall towards Vivek’s chambers. In front of the door lay the body of the housekeeper. Her eyes were still wide with shock—dark caverns in her otherwise too-pale face. Sukylar paused to take her pulse, knowing that it was unnecessary though there was no sign of what had caused her death. Then he closed her eyes and slipped through the door.

  At the bottom of the stairs he found Vivek’s body. This time there was no question of how he had died—his head lay at a garish angle, half torn from his body. The blood was fresh. Sukylar estimated he had arrived only minutes late…which meant that the shadow he’d seen at the inn was likely not the only one…Sukylar reacted before his mind had even processed the sudden change in temperature, diving forward and rolling to his feet just as something big and dark lunged for where he’d been just moments before. He whirled to face his attacker and brought his sword up just in time to ward off another blow. The shadow was vaguely humanoid in form, though its limbs were a bit too long, it’s neck slightly too thick. The thing’s face was vague—the features indistinct as though an artist had roughly sketched the outline of a human face, with faint indications of eyes, nose, and mouth, but failed to fill in the details.

  Sukylar eyed the thing warily, trying to develop a strategy. It seemed to have physical form—at least, his sword had connected. Yet it appeared somewhat insubstantial, shadowy. The strangest thing—the thing that had probably saved his life—was that the creature emanated a sense of cold. Which meant that it was probably of arcane origin…and therefore all the more difficult to kill. His thoughts were interrupted by a searing pain in his left side as the creature’s claws finally found him. Sukylar cursed silently and slashed at the shadow creature, connecting with the side of its head. Aside from skittering backwards, the demon showed no sign that the blow had affected it at all.

  Sukylar ducked behind a table and overturned it on the creature, trying to buy some time to think. If only he had A’kiina’s sword! The family heirloom had been made for this kind of thing, whereas his blades (though masterfully forged) were no better against magic than a toothpick against a troll…

  Sukylar shook his head and attempted to focus on the fight. His thoughts were oddly detached…the cold was more than physical discomfort—it was creeping into his heart and mind as well. He noticed idly that two more shadows had joined the first. Not much point in trying to fight them, he was clearly outmatched…he should probably run, but it was so cold, he just wanted to curl up somewhere next to a fire. A small corner of his mind registered the word “fire.” Didn’t he have a charm to start a fire in even the worst conditions? A remnant of his gear from their trip through the mountains…

  Struggling to focus his frozen brain, Sukylar dug the small vial of liquid from his belt pouch and fumbled with the stopper. The shadow creatures had gathered around him, they were reaching for his face and arms…finally the stopper slid free, a drop oozing out and burning his hand in the process—no time to worry about that now. The burn cleared his mind momentarily, however, and he was able to ram one creature with his elbow while flinging the vial at the other two. A quick shout ignited the fluid with an explosion that would have knocked him across the room if he hadn’t already been sprinting for the stairs. As it was, he felt the blast push him from behind and he escaped the inferno with only seriously singed legs and a charred right hand.

  He didn’t know if the fire had dealt with the creatures or merely delayed them, but he wasn’t going to stick around to find out. Ducking down an alley, Sukylar swiftly made his way towards the edge of town, where his horse was stabled. Whatever those shadow things were, he didn’t think they had attacked him at random. Likely the others were being targeted as well…but who to warn first? Ky’ara was more important, but also better equipped to deal with supernatural enemies…the girl then, Lauryn, she would need his help.

  * * * * *

  “Joran, light!” Taren yelled. The wind had picked up, clouds hid whatever remained of the sunset, and it looked as though a storm was well on its way. Another shadow lunged for Ky’ara, nearly catching her on the side of the face before she forced it back with her sword. They were being a little more cautious now, having realized that she could hurt them. Joran muttered a spell and light flashed briefly, driving the shadows back. Taren held an orb of fire, which he was whipping this way and that, holding the creatures at bay.

  Ky’ara swung her sword clear through another of the shadows, gathering her strength to cast a spell that would hopefully burn them all at once…but something stopped her. The instant she reached for her magic she sensed a malevolent force tugging at it as well. She concentrated and the gloom sharpened…the air and beach around them was filled with tendrils of shadow, presumably leftover bits of the creatures. Or maybe not. Taren’s flame flickered much more weakly than it should’ve, and Ky’ara could see the wisps of shadow attaching themselves to him almost like leeches.

  “Don’t use magic,” she called out, swinging her sword at the nearest shadow, “It’s not safe.”

  “What do you mean?” Taren asked, warning away one of the creatures with his fireball, which was pulsing chaotically. Ky’ara whipped her sword back around to decapitate the creature, then reached out and collapsed Taren’s spell. He gave her an annoyed glance, but didn’t attempt to cast a new one. Ky’ara ignored him; the black tendrils had flinched away from him as soon as his spell dropped…and headed towards her. She sighed exasperatedly, trying to quell the fear that tightened in her chest. The darkness around them was nearly complete. The shadows gathered around, exuding a sense of cold that seeped into her body, slowing her reactions. Just when she thought she couldn’t swing her sword anymore, a light flickered at the edge of her vision. She turned to get a glimpse of it, but then three more lights flickered in the other direction…then twenty or more Naiads appeared fully, their flickering lights spreading out into a glow that enveloped the three humans and flashed brightly, forcing the shadows to disappear.

 
We have little time their voices chorused inside Ky’ara’s head. Find what you seek, and destroy this evil. We have little time.

  And with that they were gone, leaving Ky’ara breathless and confused.

  * * * * *

  Lauryn closed the book in frustration and added it to the small stack on the floor. She wasn’t cut out for this work—sneaking, hiding, and doing basic chores were more her area of expertise. She could read moderately well only because Myrnai had insisted on it—she had to be able to read shopping lists and labels on Myrnai’s herbs—but she wasn’t accustomed to reading books and she certainly wasn’t a scholar.

  A noise in the hall brought her to her feet in an instant. It was just a faint squeak, probably just the house shifting, but better to be sure…She padded silently to the door and opened it just a crack.

  Nothing.

  Get a grip, Lauryn berated himself silently. This old house was spooky, to be sure, but it was just a house—no reason to be so jumpy. She was about to close the door and return to the bookshelves, but something stopped her. It may have been the slight chill that crept down the hallway, or maybe just a reluctance to return to her research, but the girl hesitated—peering into the darkness once more—and saw a shadow move.

  Instincts kicked in and she ducked behind the door, her muscles tensing in preparation to run. The shadow she had seen was outside the mansion, it could just be a tree, or even an animal. But something about the dark feeling she couldn’t shake made her question those explanations. It was time to get out of here.

  Lauryn quickly gathered her things, shoving a few books into her pack for later, and picked up her lantern. Then she hesitated. The light would make her an easy target in this gloom, if its faint glow hadn’t already given her away when she’d opened the door. She snuffed it and stowed it in her now bulging pack. After giving her eyes a moment to adjust, Lauryn slipped out the door and crept down the hallway. She stopped beside a window and peeked out. Everything was gloom and shadows. Moving shadows. She froze, going completely still and straining her eyes to try distinguishing the shapes. They remained shadowy, some almost floating above the swampy terrain, others clearly trudging through the muck.