The Sah'niir

by Kim Wedlock

  "Petra," Rathen replied dutifully. "Her name is Petra. And she...died."

  His old, angled eyes softened and his mouth drooped into an expression much too powerful for one who had barely spoken a word to her. An expression that spoke instead of an experience that weighed heavily upon him, and had perhaps for an age. "I am so dreadfully sorry. My deepest condolences. ...May...I ask--"

  "Salus killed her." Rathen pushed successfully past the lump in his throat. "As for the other..."

  Eizariin glanced about at the sudden frost in the air. "I have the sense that the less said about him, the better?" He nodded then turned back to the cuff. The heartache remained in his eyes for some time.

  Anthis soon noticed a dark mark upon the elf's neck. A scar, steel-grey against silver skin. The elf's black-blue hair quickly shifted to cover it. "She's already punished you, hasn't she?" Anthis asked in quiet horror. "For helping us to escape."

  Eizariin pretended not to notice the shamed slump of Rathen's shoulders. "I don't regret helping you."

  "Can they not be healed away?"

  "Not scars like these, no." The elf's bleak tone was enough to end the matter.

  "How did you find us?" Anthis asked instead, a few long moments later.

  "A, ah...mutual friend."

  "A mutual friend? Who?"

  "It's not my place to say."

  Rathen sighed with far too belated understanding. "Kienza."

  Eizariin popped his lips and refrained from meeting his eyes. "For the record, I did not say it."

  "How in the world do you know Kienza?!" Anthis burst.

  "Gods..."

  "What?!"

  Eizariin shook his head and increased the flow of magic over the cuff. His silver face had become lined with disgust. "What has she done to you?"

  Rathen's eyes widened in alarm. "What is it? What's Kienza done?"

  "What? No, not Kienza - Tekhest. Whatever she told you when she interfered with this, she lied."

  "H-how do you know she lied if you don't know what she said?"

  "Because," he replied severely, "if she'd told you the truth, you'd never have left that room."

  "Explain, and quickly."

  Without warning, he reached out and grasped the metal band. Concentration fell over his face. Even so, he spoke. "Mages - you humans - you have only a small amount of elven blood in your veins, a trace of it. It's weak - but you've inherited just enough of the right bits for it to work, and how well it works depends on resilience as well as the amount of magic."

  "I know all this--"

  "In elves, the balance is perfect. In humans, it varies drastically. These do'osos are given to elven children for their safety - they're designed to limit the potency of the magic in the blood, rendering much of it inert so that they can learn to control a smaller amount of it. The do'osos is tweaked as they age so that less of it is restrained and they can adjust to increased strength, and so on, increasing incrementally until it's fully unleashed. It was a practice that came into use in the Kerenik Dynasty, the middle of the Third Age of the Second Era. You wouldn't give a three-year-old free rein over a sword or crossbow, would you?"

  "And what does that have to do with me?"

  His eyes closed in his focus, but still he continued his patient explanation. "You were given this cuff because your magic is much stronger than a typical human mage's - by your mother, no doubt, but it was never adjusted or removed. Perhaps she was concerned you wouldn't be able to handle it--"

  "Or because she died when I was three and never had the chance to make that decision."

  "...I apologise again. But when Tekhest interfered, your magic was released and clarified - clearer elven magic, clear enough to control your transformations, but not enough to rival us in strength. But she released too much and chained back any hope of your resilience keeping up with it. Or so she thought. It has managed, against the odds, because you're close enough to us physiologically to be capable of adapting. But not in full - not yet. Your power and resilience is stronger than an elven child's, of course, but the rate at which the magic has been released...the harmony the do'osos provided is gone. Because of this, you're also not as strong as you probably feel. The sudden increase in power must be quite a feeling, and I envy you the experience, but that means you're more likely to incite the loss of control yourself by trying to do more than you're capable of." Briefly, his eyes opened and turned him a deliberate look. "And with such pure power, not so muddied by human blood, if your magic gets out of control...it could be catastrophic."

  Rathen looked across the others and found similar expressions of alarm on their faces, as well as Aria, who had taken refuge between the two while she watched the elf with a wary fascination. "Lose control?" Anthis repeated, though everyone wished he hadn't. "Like...the other mages?"

  Eizariin pursed his lips with a deep, pensive breath. "It wouldn't be quite the same thing. It may not kill him – not directly. Drive him mad, perhaps, or plague him with convulsive fits, seizures and the like. If he were to bite his tongue and pass out... In such a moment, he could clear a third of the forests for fifty years along with anyone and anything in them."

  "That's ridiculous!" Rathen almost yelped, his voice tainted by the hue of alarm at the much too familiar suggestion. "If anything, it's crippled me! I wanted to give all this over to the Order - I can't finish it!"

  "Oh that's nonsense, and you know it is," he declared with sudden impatience, as though scolding a blustering child. "That's fear talking. Fear of failure. Of proving you're not as powerful as you feel - or, perhaps, of proving yourself right. You wouldn't wish to be like us, would you? I know I certainly don't."

  "You said you were going to help?" Anthis reminded him, intercepting any potential altercations, and the elf nodded decisively.

  "Yes. By removing the do'osos."

  Each face blanched as yet another blanket of apprehension descended over them like fresh, muffling snowfall. "Seriously? After what you just said? Are you mad?"

  "I might just be," he smiled, which did nothing to soothe Rathen's thundering heart, "but thinking about it will only make it worse, so..." he glanced over his shoulder to the others, "stand back." There came the slightest click, and the cuff fell inertly into the elf's open hand.

  In a single heartbeat, Rathen braced himself with instinct while his surroundings melted away, as though he'd been thrown into another existence. The surge of heat formed immediately in his bicep and passed through his arm, shooting down to his fingers and up into his shoulder, moving as quickly as it always did, and he gritted his teeth in preparation for the agony that would follow, helpless to the impending torment of his own physiology.

  But the pain didn't come.

  Instead the heat quickly began to wane; rather than burn and sear, it warmed and emboldened, and in its wake came power, strength, invulnerability, flowing freely like a river. His blood practically buzzed with it, surging and coursing through his veins like wild animals tamed by the strength of some primal compulsion. It felt unusual, peculiar - but...good. Enjoyable. Incredible. He almost laughed. What power! The Elders had been right after all. This had been inside him all along!

  The power continued to mount; with every moment he felt he could achieve more and more - enough, even, to protect Turunda from a magic-wielding madman. He would avenge Petra, he would free Taliel from his entrapment, he would protect Aria to the edge of the world and over. He wouldn't be stopped, especially not by someone whose only skills were limited magic and lying. Even if he was a professional in the latter.

  The buzzing in his veins grew stronger and his head began to spin, adding to the confusion in his blood. It continued to swell with the power, and he continued to enjoy it, until a thumping began to creep into his skull.

  He began to stumble. The power grew, the thumping increased, and it steadily overwhelmed him.

  It was as though there were a thousand horses suddenly stampeding in his chest. The magic was becoming too much, moving too q
uickly, and the thought that he would never find control over it until it utterly consumed him accelerated his state. So much so that the fact that he was keeping up with it so easily escaped him entirely.

  He became suddenly aware of the terrible sounds and sensations of his body changing, and true panic set in. But it was different this time; disconnected, distant, numb, and where in the past he had been almost incapacitated by the pain, now he was acutely aware of every shift and growth. And the fact that it didn't hurt equally escaped him. Instead, he felt it, understood it, and predicted it. His mind began to slow down as it focused on the details, and his own riled magic seemed to slow in the distraction. His grasp finally closed.

  The moment he seized it, those details blurred and distorted, and he lost them in seconds. His efforts crumbled.

  Frustrations roared through him, and his eyes, squeezed shut in his torment, ripped open.

  Chapter 64

  The barn Rathen had forgotten he stood within was bright - much brighter than it had been before he'd closed his eyes. So bright, in fact, that it really should have hurt. And yet it didn't. Instead, everything was impossibly sharp, crystalline in its clarity. He saw every crack and splinter in the old, wooden floor, surprised he hadn't noticed them before; he saw every grain in the planks, every straight and crooked nail holding them together, while the floor itself seemed further away than usual, as though his perception of distance had become more acute. He even grew certain that he could predict the shift of his shadow cast by the campfire behind him. All after-effects of his dizziness, most likely; delayed responses; a moment to marvel at mundane details before their reality sank in.

  He ignored the peculiarities and looked up towards the elf for an explanation as to just why his power had fizzled out, but his voice caught in his throat when he found Anthis, Eyila and Aria seized by wide-eyed horror, while Eizariin stood beside them, notably untroubled.

  'We've been tricked.'

  The realisation hit him like a kick to the head, but just how, and why, eluded his rapidly churning mind. It took him a long moment to notice that the horrified stares were directed towards him, and as his eyes flicked past them at a sudden, sharp, equine squeal, he found the horses gathered tightly in the corner where they were hitched, rearing and pawing at the air with their hooves, tusks bared forwards, eyes wide and rolling.

  He swallowed hard. A dreadful thought coalesced. And though his heart warned against it, he looked down.

  The cracks and splinters in the floor. He'd not noticed them before; they hadn't been there before. The planks had been raked and shredded. It wasn't age or rot; they had been torn up by claws. And there were splinters nearby, shards of wood scattered across the ground. His eyes tracked them unwillingly. The support beam standing closest to him had been almost obliterated. It probably wouldn't hold for much longer.

  His throat closed. And while his heavy arms refused to obey, even as his heart now screamed against it, he looked down at his hands.

  His fingers were too long; slender and tapered, almost fleshless, like bony talons, and white - white as the dead. His eyes widened as distress and revulsion rapidly swelled.

  Heart in his throat, his monstrous hands rose to his face, passing his still-fleshy, black-veined palms tentatively over unfamiliar features. His breath caught short. His cheekbones had never been so sharp.

  "Rathen?"

  He looked up towards Anthis, who flinched back from his gaze. His movements seemed slow.

  "...Are...you...?"

  'Myself?' A deep, reluctant breath filled his lungs and, slowly, he nodded. Then his attention crashed grievously upon Eizariin. "What did you--" But it was not his voice. He bit his lip to cut back the foul and guttural sound, but cut his own flesh instead. His teeth were as sharp as needles.

  His black eyes grew even wider, until the elf stepped forwards and filled his enhanced vision. Menace returned as he stared down at him, talons cutting into his palms as he squeezed his fists in rage, but the elf merely smiled back soothingly.

  "You can revert," he told him in a calm voice made sickening by his rough and brutal accent. "You have full control, so go ahead. Don't wait to be asked."

  Hope sparked through him so quickly that he spared no time for his suspicions, and dove back into his magic on the blind faith that instinct would show him how. The thumping was swift to return to his skull. "Breathe," he heard the elf say as he fumbled desperately to find the spell to retract his bones and return his colour, "ease back into your body." As if it could be so easy.

  But it was. As some abstract part of his mind considered the suggestion, a strange relaxation laced through his blood, diluting his adrenaline and widening his veins, and as quickly as that, he felt his body begin once again to shift.

  The pain that finally forced his eyes open was decidedly more than uncomfortable, and while his fingers were red with blood and a trail trickled slowly down his forearms from his elbows, his skin had coloured fair once again.

  Eyila hurried towards him immediately.

  He smiled shamefully as Aria followed her, surging out from behind Anthis to throw her little arms around his leg. She cried while she smiled, blood smearing her coat, but she wouldn't release him. He squeezed her tightly while Eyila busied herself with his wounds.

  "Congratulations, Rathen Koraaz," the elf declared ceremoniously. "Your magic is freed."

  "What happened?" Anthis asked, stepping forwards a little more warily.

  "He reversed it," he explained as he his eyes fell upon the tribal girl with open curiosity. "When I unleashed his magic, it surged, then settled, like water breaking out from a dam, and that triggered the transformation."

  "Did you know it would happen?"

  "Absolutely. But it won't happen again now that it's out - not unless he wants it to."

  "Why is he still injured?"

  "Well," Eizariin stepped aside to peer even further around Eyila's shoulder at her fingers, "he is only half-elf. The Vahzik'i'kaan ukhsuun was never going to be perfect."

  "...The...what?"

  He sent Anthis a slow look. "Becoming the image of Zikhon."

  "...I see... So now, he's..."

  "His magic is unrestricted, but his resilience will take some time to catch up."

  "So he's at risk?"

  "Only if he's foolish enough to try to exercise the limits of his power in the next few days. It will take some time to catch up, as I said, but there's no knowing just how long. He is a...unique case."

  "How did you find out about the cuff?" Rathen asked, his voice and eyes having also returned to normal, and were remarkably strong for his ordeal. "Tekhest couldn't have told you, not with your differences."

  He sighed and folded his arms ruefully. "Indeed she didn't. Kienza told me. She had ideas, said it seemed to her that the cuff had weakened rather than been turned down, but she couldn't work out why. It turns out that she simply didn't expect my people, at present, of sabotage. And she came to me, I answer before being asked, because it was out of her ability to fix."

  "Out of Kienza's ability? How could that be?"

  "Because the very nature of the do'osos prevents tampering – apparently – for everyone's safety, including the individual's. The spell is highly refined. When she realised what it was, she came to me. But I suppose I wasn't easy to find, even for her. There are spells in place on the island to detect and misdirect non-elven magic from the outside. Young lady," he walked now to Rathen's other side and openly stared at the healing, "how ever did you work out how to do that?"

  She spared only a brief moment from her concentration. "Work with magic, don't force it. Then it will work with you."

  "...My, that's wise."

  "I thought elves could heal," Anthis mused.

  "Yes, we can - but you're human."

  "A fair point. And you never did explain how you know one another - you and Kienza."

  "Well," he chuckled evasively, "we're both very old. I myself am in my third teens."

>   "Third teens?"

  "Two hundred and seventeen," he said proudly. "You're as old as you feel."

  "...And Kienza?"

  He frowned disapprovingly. "A gentleman shouldn't ask."

  "Enough," Rathen grunted impatiently. "How did you do this? Tekhest needed the aid of several--"

  "No, she didn't," he sighed, "it was a show to frighten you and set herself above you, and probably above everyone who 'helped'. That's all. Anyway--"

  "I thought your people worshipped Zikhon - that you were 'enlightened'--"

  "'Enlightened' has many definitions. The one you're thinking of is the only one that doesn't exist. Everyone suffers some kind of greed, some kind of vice, and hers is power."

  "And yours?"

  He smiled. "Knowledge. Now: this 'Sah'niir'..."

  Aria suddenly clambered away from his side and reached for the wooden carving still standing where her father had put it before the night fell into shambles. She handed it wordlessly to the old elf who proceeded to study it for some time, and watched him with big eyes, glimmering with a hunger for approval. Rathen pulled her gently back towards him and kissed her remorsefully on the head, but didn't discourage her hope.

  His black-blue eyebrows eventually rose, and he nodded in concedence, turning it over in his hands. "I'm impressed."

  "Thank you."

  His eyes drifted down onto the big-eyed child who seemed ready to burst, somehow with both pride and modesty, and frowned in bewilderment. "Pardon? No, no, I--oh...oh." He looked again at the carving, seeing for the first time the wood rather than the spell, and his eyes brightened in marvel. "Oh my...you, young lady...you would surely have been worth your father's weight in gold to my people in the old days..."

  "And she's worth four times my weight right now."

  He smiled joyfully. "That, I'm sure, she is! You have a highly enviable talent, my dear. Treasure it."