The Keeper's Heritage

by Trenna McMullin

  Ky’ara nodded, feeling guilty for not having at least asked about it as soon as she realized it was her own DreamGlow. If just touching her own dreams in the past could draw attention from the darkness, what had happened when she had used a spell on Berd after waking Taren? Was that what had attracted the necromancer’s attention there in the first place? Were the disappearances her fault? Pushing aside her concerns, she felt for her connection to Life and followed it back.

  * * * * *

  The dark forest surrounding them felt so much more sinister, now that she was expecting something otherworldly to attack them at any moment. Ky’ara turned her back to the dying fire and stared out into the trees, trying to convince herself that there was nothing there.

  Eventually, she slipped back into ordinary slumber, but like always, it was difficult to stay there. Her dreams wove in and out of the world of mist and shadows. Just before dawn, she gave up on rest altogether, and rose to prepare breakfast for the others. Today they would have to descend into the thick forest once again. It made Ky’ara anxious. Now that she could finally see the lake, she was loath to let it out of sight.

  The four travelers started down the winding path, forging their way through the dense brush as they headed towards their goal. Ky’ara looked one last time at the glimmer of light reflecting off the water, and then the branches closed around them, and it was lost.

  * * * * *

  Amischel put the water bucket on the hook and started pumping the handle. After a minute fresh, clear water gushed from the spigot and quickly filled the bucket to near overflowing. She smiled. This convenience never ceased to amaze her. Growing up she’d drawn water from the well, or from the rain barrel. To have as much clean water as she wanted without the toil of winding the crank for seemingly endless minutes—it was almost a miracle. She brought the bucket inside and added it to the kettle over the fire. Jenie sat in a chair nursing the baby, humming a song softly and darning socks. Misha, her two year old daughter, lay on the couch, napping. Amischel smiled. It wasn’t often that the house was so quiet. Hal had taken the other two children to the market for the afternoon, giving Jenie some much needed time to herself—or at least, as close as a mother of four could ever get to it. So of course she was mending.

  Amischel stirred the soup, musing about how Jenie could never just sit and rest. A cold breeze swirled around her and her happy feeling suddenly faded. She looked toward the window, and nearly dropped her spoon. Something dark lurked in the shadows near the fence. She blinked and it was gone. Grabbing a rag, she carefully lifted the pot off its hook and set it in the metal stand off to the side. She wasn’t going to risk it boiling over and catching the house on fire. Not this time.

  Jenie looked up from her mending, catching on to Amischel’s concern. She set aside the socks and carefully detached the now sleeping infant, patting him on the back softly until he let out a quiet belch. “What is it?” she asked.

  Amischel was filled with a sudden sense of urgency. “We need to get out of here, I think,” she said quickly, picking up Misha—blanket and all—and heading towards the front door.

  “You think?” Jenie asked, grabbing a jacket as she followed her across the room. It had been overcast outside all day, but now the clouds were darkening, blotting out the sun. It looked like it was about to storm. A sudden gust blew the door open, and Amischel hurried out, hoping Jenie would trust her enough to follow. Her first thought was to go to the stables for a horse and ride downtown, but some instinct told her that sticking around that long would put them in grave peril. She shivered, wishing she too had grabbed a jacket, and hurried off the road towards the trees that separated their field from the neighbor’s property. The wind drove her towards the little outcropping and, with Jenie running breathlessly beside her, she followed its bidding. Misha woke with a loud cry when they stopped abruptly at the base of an old oak. She murmured something soothing even as she shifted the child to her back and pulled herself up into the branches.

  “Amischel what is going on?” Jenie asked, even as she handed the baby up and swung onto a branch herself.

  “I don’t know,” Amischel gasped, half-strangled by the terrified toddler clinging to her neck. “Something is looking for us at the house, and the trees felt…safe.”

  Jenie opened her mouth to reply, then closed it and nodded. Amischel had a sixth sense about things. She always seemed to know when it was going to rain, even when the skies were clear, and she had saved the children countless times from falling off the garden wall during their shenanigans—somehow always just a step away from whichever one had decided to step too close to the edge, even when she was otherwise occupied. If she had felt it was necessary to drag them all outside in the middle of a storm, it was probably a good idea to trust her judgement.

  The two women climbed higher into the tree, a task made difficult by the children they were attempting to bring with them. When they were finally concealed within the thick foliage, Amichel helped Jenie tie the baby against her in a sling, where he settled back to sleep within moments. Misha continued to cling to Ami, even when she pulled her back around to the front and tried to talk her into nestling into the crook between a branch and the trunk.

  “Look,” Jenie murmured in horror, pointing to the house they had just left. From their vantage point in the tree they could see over the garden wall into the yard. Black shadows were coalescing into frightening shapes and swarming through the back door and windows. An icy wind blew in their direction, and Amischel could swear it was colder than should have been possible this time of year. They watched, huddled safely out of sight, as the creatures hunted through the house angrily. It was unclear what (or who) they were searching for, but obvious that they intended to destroy it when they found it.

  Chapter 14: Confrontation

  Ky’ara crawled into her bedroll, exhausted from the arduous trek through the increasingly dense forest. They’d been forced to leave the horses behind, stopping around midday to construct a hasty lean-to to shelter the animals while they were gone. There was plenty of grazing, and they’d hastily dug a trough and filled it with water so the horses wouldn’t be thirsty. She just hoped it was enough. If they didn’t reach the lake by tomorrow afternoon, Lauryn and Sukylar would turn back to stay with the horses and protect their gear from the elements while the other three continued on.

  The trees swayed as the wind rustled through them. Ky’ara closed her eyes and listened to the sound. Hopefully it wouldn’t rain tonight. They didn’t have much beyond their bedrolls and the clothes on their backs. If those got wet then tomorrow would be miserable…somewhere in this train of thought, her fatigue got the better of her and she dropped into a sleep once more plagued by shadows and mist.

  * * * * *

  Amischel and Jenie huddled in the tree. The rain had quickly soaked through them till both were shivering. The children fared little better, even wrapped in the women's shawls.

  “Do you think it's safe yet?” Jenie whispered, peering through the storm to see if the shadow creatures were gone. Amischel shook her head, the uneasy feeling still blanketing her. Somehow she could sense the awful creatures and Jenie's house was still full of them.

  “Maybe we should try to get to one of the neighbor’s,” Jenie whispered. “I don't know how much longer the children can handle this cold.”

  Amischel looked down at Misha. The little girl was whimpering and shaking uncontrollably. The thin blanket was insufficient against the driving rain, even muted as it was by the branches surrounding them. She opened her mouth to speak, and then stopped. Something was coming towards them.

  Jenie started to ask what was the matter, but Amischel waved for her to be silent, and looked out through the rain. A shadowy figure seemed to float across the field, bobbing left and right—hunting for something. The air grew colder the nearer it came. Jenie instinctively clutched the baby closer, wrapping her arms completely around him to ward him from the chill. Amischel somehow knew, however, that thi
s feeling was not something to be combated by bundling up or huddling together. It was in the head and heart as much as in the air. They were slowly growing numb and the closer the shadow got, the colder they felt. Amischel already felt as though her life was being sucked out of her. What would happen, then, if it found them?

  She pressed Misha more closely against her, hoping to muffle the poor girl's crying. “Please,” she thought, “don't let it find us.” The wind increased, rustling the leaves, and the tree seemed to shift ever so slightly, the branches closing around them protectively.

  The shadow floated nearer, looking at the tree suspiciously. Amischel held her breath. “We're not here,” she thought desperately. “Go away. Don't come any closer. Please don't find us. We're not here.” Amischel continued her inner mantra, wishing she could do more. The apparition terrified her beyond anything she'd ever encountered before.

  The spirit creature stopped suddenly, and looked one way, then the other. It peered one last time at the tree, then turned and drifted back towards the house. Amischel breathed a sigh of relief as the cold receded. The rain and wind still chilled them to the bone, but in the absence of the ghost this discomfort no longer felt as intense.

  They waited for what felt like hours. Just when Amischel thought she could no longer feel her hands, Jenie nudged her and pointed to the house. She looked; the shadow creatures were gathering outside of the house, surrounding it as they exited one by one.

  “Are they leaving?” Jenie whispered, hardly daring to hope.

  Amischel opened her mouth to answer, and then closed it again. The shadows were disappearing in quick succession, seeping into the walls—and from what the women could see through the windows—not reappearing on the other side. The house started to pulse with an eerie black glow.

  “I don’t think that’s a good thing—” Amischel started to say. There was a sudden rushing sound, and the black aura disappeared. Then, with a resounding crack, the house shattered.

  * * * * *

  Ky’ara stood contemplating the lake once more, the total calm of the water seeming to mock her deeply unsettled feelings. She didn’t know if she wanted to meet Myrnai again, after what had happened last time. But neither did she feel like being pulled onto the island and coming up against more dead-ends. Sensing someone behind her, she turned and found herself facing a wispy, silvery being that hovered above the ground just a few yards away.

  “Are you a sylph?” she asked, and the tall, slender nymph bowed her head once in acknowledgment.

  “You are in grave peril,” the sylph whispered, “he comes.”

  Ky’ara sighed, “I’ve had this warning before. Who is coming?”

  The sylph shook her head emphatically, “This is not the preemptive warning of the Dryads, young druid. We have Seen the DeathWalker. He is near. He sends others ahead…Only you can fight this. You must go!”

  Feeling the creature’s urgency, Ky’ara instantly felt for her connection with Life, flinging herself back out of the Dreamworld with as much force as she could muster.

  * * * * *

  Ky'ara awoke to darkness. It was nearly morning already, but the sky was overcast and the thick forest hid almost all the light from the rising sun. A chill gripped her instantly. She made eye contact with the sylph, which was somehow just as present in this world as she had been in the other.

  “They're here.”

  The silvery voice echoed in her mind and a wind whipped through the clearing, urging Ky'ara up and out of bed. Sukylar looked up from where he was keeping watch, shaking off the cold that had been creeping over him and dulling his senses.

  “Illumisia!” Ky'ara cried, sending a pulse of light across the entire clearing, forcing back the shadowy creatures that had just emerged from the trees. A few shrieked and disappeared, disintegrating as the light touched them. Taren and Joran were up in an instant, their weapons at the ready. Lauryn was a little slower, but no less reactive. Sukylar had moved to the remains of their fire and was desperately adding tinder to reignite the coals, praying it would be enough.

  Ky'ara watched as the light from her spell died. She didn't know if she dared risk it again...already she could see strands of dark magic following her power back to the source.

  “Thank you,” she murmured as she felt the sylph breeze past her face and disappear. The few seconds' warning may have just saved their lives.

  Sukylar struggled to build up the fire as fog began to gather around them. The few minutes the spell had bought were just enough for them all to surround the weak flame and face out towards the darkness. Ky'ara's shoulder touched Taren's and she spared the time to glance up and meet his eyes.

  “Be careful,” he murmured as his gaze returned to the trees. “You're the only one who can heal us if someone gets infected by that shadow-stuff again.”

  Ky'ara nodded.

  “Unfortunately she's also our best bet of actually fighting these things,” Joran chimed in from her other side, “if it's anything like last time.”

  Taren pursed his lips grimly and Ky'ara knew he was unable to disagree.

  “Well then,” she said lightly, “guess I'll have to do everything...sounds pretty normal.”

  She could practically feel Joran rolling his eyes and Taren bristling at the remark. They had no more time for banter, however, as more shadows emerged from the forest and surrounded them. The firelight held them off, just out of reach. Ky’ara took a deep breath. The fire flickered. The shadows closed in.

  * * * * *

  Amischel held the children close, keeping them warm as Jenie picked her way through the wreckage of their home. Hal had never returned from the market. The two women had spent the night huddled together to keep the children warm, watching the road and wondering what had become of the others. At first light, Jenie had insisted on retrieving what she could from the house before they headed south to seek refuge in Doraicolé.

  Now she stepped gingerly over the shattered remains of walls and furniture, pulling blankets out from what used to be the linen closet and shaking the splinters out before handing them to Amischel to wrap around Misha and Andru, who were disturbingly silent.

  “Ami! Look at this!” Jenie called, motioning her over.

  By some miracle the contents of the soup pot had remained untouched by the destruction around them. Amischel settled the children on the ground a few feet away and built a small fire after clearing some of the debris. She set the pot on it to warm, and then hunted through what used to be the kitchen for something to stir it with and something to eat it in. A few minutes later, she deemed it warm-enough-for-now, and straightened to summon the children’s mother.

  “Jenie, come get some soup to warm you up!” she called, turning to look for where the woman had gone. There was no answer. She ducked around a large, fallen beam, and spotted the object of her search in the ruins of the stable.

  Jenie was slumped on the ground, shaking with uncontrollable sobs. Amischel hurried towards her, glancing back at the children to be sure they hadn’t moved. As she did, her foot came down on something soft and there was a loud crunch of bone. She looked down, lifting her boot. It was one of the birds they used to communicate with the rebel headquarters. It was dead. She looked across at where her friend sat crying, noticing for the first time that the woman cradled something in her lap. The floor of the barn was covered in bird corpses, their cages mangled by whatever force had destroyed the house.

  Amischel stepped gingerly around the remains until she reached Jenie’s side.

  “I know it seems awful, but something warm to eat will help you cope better...and you need your strength if you are going to nurse Andru,” Amischel murmured, kneeling in front of the grieving woman.

  Jenie looked up at her, eyes bright with tears, and handed her the small piece of parchment she had been clutching. It was blank.

  “I don’t understand…” Amischel asked.

  “Ever since the King’s proclamation, Hal has been taking a bird with him into
town,” Jenie whispered, “you know…just in case.” She motioned toward the bird lying closest to her. “That is…it’s the one he always…it’s his…it must’ve come in just after we left...”

  “But there’s no message,” Amischel pointed out, with a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. “Maybe it just got away, or one of the kids let it loose…”

  Jenie was already shaking her head. “Ferdy can’t reach the cage…if it’s blank that means Hal didn’t have time for anything else…it’s our signal to each other…you know, to take the kids and run.” Her voice dropped to a broken whisper. “Something happened to them.”

  Amischel didn’t know what to say. She rested a hand on her friend’s shoulder, then walked back to the children and started to feed Misha some of the soup.

  Jenie stayed where she was, staring absently into the distance, surrounded by flightless birds.

  * * * * *

  Ky’ara flung another Remnant away with her sword, and it disappeared into the shadows. The fire behind them was barely more than glowing embers and they had no more wood to keep it burning. Sukylar and Lauryn were fending off one of the creatures with a dwindling torch, while Taren and Joran hacked at the limbs of anything that came within their reach. Only Ky’ara’s sword did any good, sending the creatures it pierced howling away in in pain or making them disappear in a flicker of darkness. So the others tried to rotate around the fire with her, presenting her blade with another target as soon as she finished off the previous one.

  The sky had barely lightened since they’d awoken, and Ky’ara was fairly certain they couldn’t expect daylight to rescue them. The forest was too dense, the clouds too dark. She did her best to dispatch each opponent as efficiently as possible, trying to protect her friends from possible injury. There seemed to be fewer of the necromantic creatures surrounding them now…or was it just that they had learned to stay away from her, and were focusing instead on the others behind her? She redoubled her efforts, growing increasingly numb from the cold that seemed to permeate everything. The others were slowing as well, even Taren. She murmured a spell for warmth and sent it rolling down the link to Joran, hoping that by keeping it internal, it would be immune to the residue she could see floating hungrily in the air around them.