“Look, I can understand why he’d want to prove his point,” Calistra tried to mollify Zahra, “but can’t he just let it go? We have much bigger issues at the moment.”
“But—”
“What problem has us upset this time?” A deep melodic voice said from behind the rebel leader.
Calistra turned to see Hallahna approaching. Her braided hair was windswept and her cheeks rosy. She must have just ridden in.
“Thank goodness you’re back!” Calistra turned to welcome her with a hug, which Hallahna returned rather stiffly. “I didn’t expect you to return so quickly though.”
“After meeting with my father and discussing our treaty, I decided it would be better for everyone involved if I stayed here to help…smooth over…any issues.” Hallahna told her in rather clipped tones.
“Well you can start on that immediately!” Calistra told her enthusiastically. She recognized that the Shaari princess was not telling the whole story. Her somewhat limited information about their new allies had indicated that Hallahna’s relationship with her father was rather strained at times, but she had decided not to pry too much. She trusted that the Ishaarina’s generally candid demeanor would lead her to notify Calistra of anything that would affect their alliance. After all, most people struggled to get along with their parents at one time or another, especially as a young adult. Or so she heard. She didn’t have much experience with that, since her own parents had died when she was only seventeen.
Pushing aside the familiar twinge of sadness, she turned her attention back to the two Shaari women. Hallahna was listening intently as commander Zahra described what had occurred. When the commander was finished, the princess nodded thoughtfully.
“Tell Kejan he has been paid a great compliment by the soldier – if his opinion of Kejan’s weapon is so low, then surely his fear of fighting him can only come from his terror of the warrior himself.”
The commander nodded thoughtfully and closed her mouth at last. Calistra gave Hallahna an appraising look as the Shaari commander left to attend to other matters.
“Now, are you going to tell me what it is that troubles you, or will I need to decipher it myself?” Hallahna asked.
Calistra sighed, “How could you tell?”
“Usually you’re the one to come up with the creative redirect—I am somewhat sure the ‘it is a compliment’ excuse was your idea originally…didn’t you use it on clansman Elnah back in Doraicolé?” The Shaari woman smiled slightly and looked sideways at the rebel leader. Calistra smirked, remembering how surprised she’d been when it actually worked. Then her worry returned.
“I’m just a little distracted—one of the scouts hasn’t come back yet and I was hoping to hear from him before we move forward with the invasion of Kaltor. It’ll be the first town we take and I want to set a precedent so that the people know we are on their side,” Calistra told her. They headed toward the command tent. The sun had set and it was getting darker by the minute.
“And this scout, he was supposed to return when?” Hallahna asked as they picked their way between tents.
“By tonight or tomorrow morning—but he should’ve sent word with one of the messenger birds as soon as he got to Hal’s.”
“So either he never got there…” Hallahna mused.
“…or something happened to the bird,” Calistra finished. “I know I shouldn’t worry unless he doesn’t show up tomorrow, but something just doesn’t feel right.”
“I will send Irakyll to check as soon as she is done eating,” Hallahna promised. “She can look for Geri and be back here in time to let us know what is going on so you can move out in the morning if you need to.”
“Thank you,” Calistra said, surprised by the offer. Then she paused, flushing slightly. “How’d you know it was Geri?”
Hallahna gave her a look. “You must think my skills of observation are terrible,” she said, stopping in front of Calistra’s tent. “I’ll leave you here—I still need to see to my mount and get some supper.”
Calistra watched her leave, pursing her lips thoughtfully. What had she meant by that?
* * * * *
“Absolutely not!”
Taren faced Ky’ara squarely, disbelief crossing his face and mirrored in his tone. He stood between her and the large wooden door that led into the druids’ library. They’d reached the building relatively soon after descending the wall. Ky’ara had tried to explain that she should go in alone. Taren disagreed.
“I must do this on my own,” she replied, “I cannot explain why, but I need to trust my instincts on this. And I’m running out of time, please just let me go.”
“She’s right,” Joran chimed in, and they both looked at him surprise. “What? I can feel what you do, remember? I have the same sense—you need to go into the library by yourself. We’ll stay out here and keep an eye out for anything dangerous.”
“Fine,” Taren said shortly, “but only on the condition that you keep yourself totally open to Joran. No blocking him out whatsoever.”
“Okay,” Ky’ara agreed, “but you have to promise not to come in after me if I do.”
She couldn’t explain why, but some part of her had a strong feeling that this was for her and her alone. Maybe they would be hurt if they came with her, maybe they would prevent whatever magic was at play here from taking effect—she didn’t know. She just had to trust her instincts.
“If you keep your link completely open, we promise not to come after you unless I sense you are in danger,” Joran said. Taren shot him a disgruntled look.
Ky’ara took Taren’s hand and looked up at him. “Trust me,” she said softly, “I’ll be fine.”
He sighed, looking directly in her eyes. “I’m coming after you at the first hint of danger.”
Ky’ara nodded her understanding. She gave him a swift kiss on the cheek and then turned to go inside. Taren caught her hand and pulled her back. He held her for a moment, his arms crushing her to his chest. For the first time she realized how scared he was.
Then he let her go, stepping to the side and opening the door for her. She stared into the dark hallway beyond, then stepped inside and started towards the stairs that disappeared into the shadows ahead. Time to find some answers.
Chapter 18: Darkness Reveals
Ky’ara climbed the stairway apprehensively. With every step she felt the weight of magic in the air around her increase. Unlike the oppressive feeling of necromantic residue, this magic felt…comfortable, as though the air itself cradled her gently and urged her forward.
She reached the top and found herself in a large, circular room. Shelves covered in dust and the decaying remains of what must have been scrolls and books filled with druid lore lined the walls. In the center of the ceiling was a small skylight through which Ky’ara could see the now darkened moon.
She pulled out the blue, leather-bound book and placed it in front of her in the center of the muted moonlight. She waited for something spectacular to happen, like it had in Doraicolé. A minute passed, then two. Ky’ara looked up at the moon. It was definitely completely eclipsed. A dark shadow covered the entirety of its face, turning its light an eerie, muted red instead of its typical silvery-white. Maybe she had been wrong about the time or place…
Ky’ara knelt and opened the book. Silvery words gleamed back at her in spidery, flowing script. She caught her breath, feeling relief wash through her. Of course, it was opposite in every other way, why had she expected it to do the same flashy reveal as the other one? Carefully, she picked up the book and sat cross-legged on the floor with it in her lap. Time was short.
Ky’ara started to read.
“I write this history, not with the intent to justify what I have done, but with the hope that someday it will aid those who must rectify my mistake…”
* * * * *
Joran and Taren set up camp just outside the tower. A fire seemed too brazen here amidst the ruins of the druids’ city, so they made do with creating a rough sh
elter against one of the buildings and huddling under it to warm up the space. Luckily, the early summer night wasn’t too cold, even with the chill from the mist that rolled in off the lake.
Taren stared out at the ruins around them. Over the last year and a half or so since he’d awoken he had buried the memories of that last day with Arys in an effort to move on. He didn’t want the past dragging him down. But here, in the shadows of buildings he’d last seen five hundred years earlier, it was all flooding back. Fear—not of the invading army, but of the unknown elements that could prevent him from doing his job. Confusion—wondering what his druid was hiding. Loss—the gut-wrenching ache of being separated from Myrnai so suddenly. These same emotions battled within him after letting Ky’ara enter the archives alone and he didn’t know if it was that or just being in the ruins that awoke his memories so keenly.
He could almost feel Arys, the memory of her presence a phantom at the other end of their Link. Being here was playing havoc with his senses. If he didn’t know better, he’d say she was really nearby.
* * * * *
Amischel woke to a soft chittering in her ear and whirling gold eyes above her in the darkness. She yelped softly in surprise, and then quickly stifled the sound and looked around anxiously. They had chosen to sleep under the cover of the trees, far enough away from the house that they wouldn’t have to remain totally silent all night. But you couldn’t be too careful.
“Oomph, you’re heavy Irakyll,” she grunted as she attempted to sit up and discovered the dragon was laying on her chest. Amischel held out her arm and, after a moment’s contemplation, Irakyll clamped her claws gently around it and spread her wings to support most of her own weight. She chittered again softly, and then thrummed contentedly as Amischel stroked her neck.
“Shhh. What are you doing out here?” Ami asked, mostly to herself. To her surprised, the dragon made eye-contact, inclined her head towards Geri’s sleeping figure, and chirped. The message was clear, though Amischel didn’t quite know how she understood it. Hallahna had sent her dragon to look for Geri.
Even with all the time she’d spent with Hallahna following the battle at Ainon Caseia, Amischel hadn’t interacted much with the dragon. The Shaari were still very secretive about their companions. Irakyll seemed to like her though, so Hallahna had shown Ami how to hold the dragon once on the journey to Doraicolé. Ami had paid enough attention to how the Shaari interacted with the creatures to know that there was more to communicating with them than just reading body language. The bond between dragon and warrior included some sort of mind-to-mind connection, much like Ky’ara and Joran’s Link. Or at least she had thought it was similarly exclusive…her ability to understand Irakyll somewhat seemed to suggest otherwise.
The little dragon chittered again, pulling Amischel away from her wandering thoughts. If Hallahna had sent the dragon for Geri, likely that meant Calistra was actually the one behind it. That could mean help was on the way.
“Are they close?” she asked Irakyll, looking into the creature’s eyes and trying to gauge whether her question was understood. The dragon tilted her head sideways, and then thrummed briefly. Amischel was startled when a vague image…more of an impression really…of flying over hills and circling the town popped into her head. Irakyll had flown here in just a few hours. That meant a few riders might be able to get here in time to help with the rescue…if she could get Irakyll to carry the message.
“Please tell Hallahna we need help,” Amischel said, still making eye-contact with the dragon. She tried to project an image of the prison-carriage with Jenie’s family inside, along with a sense of urgency. “We have to rescue them in the morning, before the soldiers take them somewhere else. The sooner Calistra can get here, the better.”
Irakyll chittered quietly, bobbing her head toward Geri’s sleeping form.
“He didn’t return because he stayed to help with the rescue,” Amischel explained. “You did your job—now go tell Hallahna we need them!”
She thrust her arm upwards to launch the dragon into the air. It felt somewhat awkward, like her timing was off, but it seemed to do the trick. Irakyll took off into the air, her wings beating furiously. Her form was only visible in the darkness for a few seconds before it was swallowed by the cool night air. For the first time Amischel realized that the moon was partially in shadow. An eclipse—no wonder the night was so dark.
She lay back down and glanced over at Geri’s sleeping form. He hadn’t even flinched at any point during her conversation with Irakyll. Maybe the creature’s noises had been quieter than she’d thought. Amischel hoped sending the little dragon away was the right thing to do – she could’ve helped them with the distraction, or harried the guards to aid the escape…either way it was too late now. Ami closed her eyes and tried to get back to sleep so she’d be alert for the rescue. Morning would be here all too soon.
* * * * *
“…My children are dedicated to continuing this fight until my error has been atoned for. I fear it is an impossible task.”
Ky’ara read the last line with a heavy heart. The story contained in this book was both informative and terrifying. It seemed her predecessors had known little more than she did about how to stop the Destroyer. If she understood it correctly, the woman who had written this had created the crystal hundreds if not thousands of years before Taren’s birth. She had failed to pay the proper price for its creation and the universe had overcorrected by producing the Destroyer. That woman went on to become the founder of the Druid Order. Her descendants had dedicated themselves to restoring the balance between Light and Darkness—because otherwise this world and all the others would eventually be destroyed. Most of this she had already learned from Taren when he first offered to train her as a mage, but the book explained in much greater depth.
Knowing the details of the crystal’s history could help her decide what she needed to do in order to restore balance, but it also felt a little overwhelming. How was she supposed to find a way when so many before her had failed? Ky’ara sighed in frustration and raised the crystal above the book, capturing the moonlight so that she would be able to pour over the book’s contents at a later date. She didn’t know if that would affect her ability to read the other book, but it was a necessary risk. After the hours she’d spent pouring over it in Doraicolé, she practically had it memorized anyways. In hindsight, creating a non-magical copy would probably have been the smart thing to do.
Ky’ara felt her eyes grow heavy, the weeks of exhaustive searching and mental strain were catching up to her. Besides that, it was easily past midnight and the mostly dark room was difficult to see in. She would just close her eyes for a moment, and then she’d go down to the boys and let them know what she’d read…
* * * * *
“Hello Ky’ara.”
Her eyes snapped open. Myrnai? No, the voice was similar, but a little deeper—more resonant. Ky’ara looked around for its source, and realized she must’ve fallen asleep. Here in the Dreamworld, the library was pristine. Scrolls and books lined the shelves without a cobweb in sight.
A woman stepped out of the shadows of the archives.
“This is how I remember it,” she said sadly, resting a hand on a shelf almost reverently.
Her resemblance to Myrnai was unmistakable. They had the same pointed nose, high cheekbones, and piercing blue eyes. This woman’s hair was darker, however, and her face a little more angular than her sister’s.
“Arys,” Ky’ara greeted her, “I thought you were…”
“Dead?” the druid finished her sentence for her, and then shook her head. “After sealing Taren, I invoked the city’s protective enchantments and then entered the Dreamworld myself.”
“You entered it physically?” Ky’ara asked, “When you knew you’d be unable to come back?”
Arys nodded. “It was the price I paid to ensure that Taren would be able to awaken. Though, I did not anticipate that Eléirathös’ protective magic would stretch into th
e Dreamworld as well.”
“You set the wards and then found that you had trapped yourself,” Ky’ara surmised. “But what about the rest of the druids? All the people that were here…did you trap them as well?” she asked.
“No,” Arys replied, “The magic I invoked was a spell set in place long ago to hide the city in case of attack. In the real world it made the city invisible and kept anything from entering, but left the druids free to leave. That way it could never be used by our enemies to lock us in. What I didn’t realize was that it works differently in the Dreamworld. From studying it further I’ve learned that it here it only allows those with a physical presence in Eléirathös to cross the boundary—in or out.”
“And as soon as you entered the Dreamworld physically you no longer had a presence in Life, so it would not let you out,” Ky’ara bobbed her head a little in understanding.
Arys smiled somewhat sadly. “Luckily, my being unavailable was not an excessive hindrance to my plan. I had prepared for the possibility that I would die, knowing as I did that the cost of sealing Taren might be more than I thought. There were just so many variables I could not plan for—no one had ever tried it before.”
“How did you—” Ky’ara started to ask, but Arys cut her off.
“Our time is limited. I have more important things to tell you.”
Ky’ara closed her mouth and nodded. Arys picked up the book from the floor and handed it to her.
“Do you understand now why it is so important to stop the Destroyer?” she asked the girl.
Ky’ara nodded, “but I do wonder…this says that the creation of the crystal and subsequent overcorrection put the universe on a course towards destruction…but here we are hundreds or even thousands of year later, and while I know our kingdom has some serious problems, it doesn’t seem quite as drastic as a world teetering on the edge of chaos would be…”
Arys considered her thoughtfully. “You are right of course. That is because we are not yet past the point of no return. The balance was tipped with the creation of the crystal somewhere around fourteen hundred years before I sealed Taren. Five hundred thirteen years have passed since then. But time in the cosmic sense is different than how we see it. To the universe, the struggles of the last nineteen hundred years have been but the teetering of an object before it slips off the edge. You are particularly important because this time you live in is the very brink—if the Darkness transitions one more time it will grow enough to send us over. There will be no way to recover. It may take thousands of years, it may only take one, but if you fail, this world and many others will be completely destroyed and given over to the Darkness.”
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