by Liara Woo
Halthren looked at him intently. "Have you never heard the legends? The tales told by the Great Elves long ago, at the dawn of our world? They had the power of foresight, and they saw that the Darkness would grow in power until it could defeat us. But they also prophesied about one who could save us."
"Who?" Joran asked urgently.
"The legends say that Allagandrian magic leaks through the Forest of Mist to Earth, where it may choose to embrace a Human," Halthren responded, his eyes lighting up as they always did when he spoke of legends. "This child of Earth would become incredibly powerful. He or she would be a fantastic ally. By going through the Forest to Earth, you may be able to find someone there who has Allagandrian powers, and should you convince them to help us, we could hold the Darkness at bay, perhaps even destroy it forever. This person will also have the power to help you return home, so this isn't really goodbye. Now go! With enough searching the demons may find the passageway. I'll stay behind to distract them—I promise they'll never find you."
Joran looked at his friend in fear. "You… you'll let yourself get captured? What if they killed you? I couldn't live with that! Is there no way for me to stay?"
"No, my prince. Not without getting captured yourself. You must go for reinforcements. And… I appreciate your concern for me, but I've been in a few tight situations before. I'll escape eventually." Halthren tried to smile reassuringly, but in his handsome face there was only fear.
Joran looked at him fearfully. "You will escape, right?"
Halthren nodded. "Of course. This will be my sixth time being captured by the Darkness. With all modesty, I'm good at escaping. Don't worry about me." He tried to smile again, but suddenly both elves heard footsteps starting down the stairs to the dungeon, and Halthren looked panicked. "Go!" he hissed. "Run, Joran!"
"I will not leave you!" Joran insisted defiantly. Wildly Halthren shoved him into the blackness of the passageway, shut the trapdoor, and locked it. Joran landed with a grunt on his side, sprawled across one long stone step. He staggered to his feet, using Halthren's sword to help him. Then he heard Halthren's voice, strained and nervous.
"Good evening, demons. What brings you here?"
Joran heard a sharp smack and heard Halthren cry out; his friend had been punched.
"I think you know," a deep voice answered, low and menacing, full of hatred. It sent shivers racing down Joran's spine. "We're looking for an elfling even younger than you. He was said to be living here. But we searched the whole castle, and he's nowhere to be found."
"I am sorry to hear that. Who are you searching for?" Halthren asked innocently, although Joran heard the worry in his voice.
"Take him," the horrible voice growled. There was a clatter of metal against metal, and Joran heard the sounds of a short scuffle taking place above him. He heard several shouts and grunts of pain from the demons following sharp, painful-sounding impacts and felt a surge of pride for Halthren's combat skills. He desperately wanted to go to his best friend's aid, but the trapdoor was locked above him. He was stuck.
Then he heard a choking sound, and the voice spoke again.
"Where is Prince Joran, heir to the throne of Kylaras?"
"I have no idea," Halthren gasped weakly. He was being slowly, painfully strangled. Joran could hear each one of his labored breaths.
"I don't believe you. You're obviously lying. Tell me now—or later. We have ways to make you speak," the harsh voice snarled. "Let me warn you; it hurts far worse than this does. So if I were you, I'd tell us what we want to know. Now!"
Joran jumped at the anger in that yell and heard Halthren let out a horrible strangled moan of agony. "I will…tell…you…nothing…" he managed to say, as defiantly as he possibly could. Much to Joran's dismay, his friend's voice was growing weaker. His breaths were slower and more uneven, with a lot more space in between.
"Tell us!" the voice roared, and Joran could guess that his grip on Halthren's throat had tightened.
"No…" Halthren croaked. "N-never…" His choked voice faded into nothing. Joran's eyes widened. Not him, too! He can't be dead!
The voice of the demon above him sighed. "Fabulous. Now he's unconscious. Chain him up and let's move out."
Joran heard several heavy footsteps above him, and then nothing. He released a sigh of relief. Halthren wasn't dead. So what do I do now? Joran wondered. But the answer was obvious. He had to follow this tunnel and get to the Forest of Mist. And to do that, he'd need a light.
Joran closed his eyes, drawing Light from deep within himself. He gathered it in a place over his heart and exhaled slowly. He placed the pointer finger of his right hand on that spot and drew it away, wincing at the sharp pain that followed. Opening his eyes, he saw that the Light had gathered into a large ball hovering just above his palm that brightly illuminated the tunnel.
That was one of the magical talents unique to the elves: they had the ability to take Light from their souls and use it for illumination in the darkest of places. Of course, the process was slightly painful; after all, they were taking a part of their soul out of their body. But the pain faded rapidly.
Joran took a deep breath. He got to his feet and walked down the stone steps to more level ground, flinching at how cold it felt to his bare feet. I wish I'd brought shoes, he lamented, drawing his cloak tighter around his thin shoulders with his free hand. His right hand was held out before him, cupped, and within it he held his Light as it shined brightly. A lengthy stretch of the tunnel was illuminated, but it was so long that there was still darkness in the distance. As he kept walking, the shadows didn't seem to grow or shrink, but eventually he saw moonlight piercing the darkness ahead.
Joran snapped his fingers, and his Light reentered his body with a flash. He continued through darkness, towards the vertical beam of light shining into the tunnel. After a while he reached the foot of more stairs and he walked up quickly, blinking at the sudden light illuminating the woodland around him.
The Forest of Mist. Only pine trees grew here, and they were much different than the other pines Joran had seen. All trees in Kylaras were huge, but these were so tall that they left the others far behind. Joran could hardly see their crowns, and they creaked and murmured, apparently more alive than they seemed. He could feel in his bones that these trees were enchanted with deep, powerful spells. And the Mist was even more magical.
Joran saw it coming; a thick, grayish-white cloud, blowing straight at him, even without wind. Soon he couldn't see the trees or anything else. He heard the rushing of water, and through the fog he could barely see the outline of what appeared to be the shore of a lake rapidly approaching him. He tried to run, but his feet wouldn't move. He couldn't move at all. He tried to call out for help, but he couldn't open his mouth.
The water rushed up to him, lapping at his toes and swiftly rising to his ankles, and he was stunned by the dreadful cold sneaking up his legs, but he couldn't shiver. The water reached his knees and continued to surge upwards, soaking his leggings in iciness. All the while the Mist rushed past him as if it were being blown by hurricane-force wind. But Joran couldn't feel even the faintest whisper of a breeze on his face.
Gradually the Mist blew off into the night, barely more than wisps of cloud. Joran's heart was pounding and he was struggling to calm his ragged breathing. The freezing water had risen to his armpits, and he was shivering violently. Shakily he looked around. The shoreline in the near distance was all dark rocks and dirt; beyond that were rolling fields and pine trees. The only sounds came from insects—mostly crickets and cicadas.
He began making his way to shallower water. The rocky part of the shoreline he was heading to had a dirt road just above it. Beyond that was a sheer slope that led to a ring of pine trees and a clearing with several log cabins in it, dimly lit by some kind of orange light that didn't quite seem like a fire. Joran didn't pay much attention to the light since there was so much else to look at, such as the unusually short trees. They seemed fully grown, but they were severa
l times smaller than those Joran was used to. Crickets were chirping loudly, and a gentle breeze lifted his hair from his shoulders. He shuddered from cold.
I'm not in Kylaras anymore, he told himself grimly. Holding Halthren's sword high, he waded out of the lake, scanning the landscape before him for signs of unfriendliness. Perhaps I should go to those cabins. Maybe someone can tell me where I am. Hesitantly he walked forward, wincing at the sharp rocks poking his bare feet. He approached the dirt road, standing hesitantly on the edge, and cautiously studied the tracks on it. There were the footprints of humans; he recognized the sight from when a dragon (in human form) had walked into a mud pit. The tracks of horses he knew very well and recognized them instantly. There were also paw-prints from wolves or dogs. But there was something else, as well… something he'd never seen before.
Joran looked down the path and saw two glowing lights steadily coming closer to him with incredible speed. Eyes? Just in case it was dangerous, he backed off of the road and hid in the bushes where he'd be hidden. Reaching out with his senses, he detected a life force within it, so it had to be some kind of animal. It whooshed past him, roaring as it went, and Joran caught a brief glimpse of shining metal plates coating its body. It had odd black wheels, like those on handcarts or carriages, but much smaller and thicker… apparently it used them instead of legs. The two lights were definitely its eyes, and its mouth was open, teeth bared in a snarl. In its wake it left clouds of dust, along with something else—something that hurt Joran's lungs more than the smoke of the demons' torches.
I'm definitely not in Allagandria anymore, he realized with a shiver. Halthren was right. I'm on Earth.
And then a human stepped out from behind a boulder and started towards him. Joran gasped.
Katie Smalls
Katie Smalls
"I can't believe school's finally out," Katie sighed, her shoulders slumped in relief. "I love school and everything, but my brain feels dead right now."
"I know. That history exam killed me," her friend Nora commented. "They're working us all too hard."
"Yeah. So people in charge should give us a little bit more vacation time to let us recuperate," she proposed without any hope of her suggestion actually coming true. Summer break had been getting shorter and shorter every year, or at least it seemed that way.
"Well, let's make the best of the vacation time we get," Nora said optimistically. "What are you going to do?" She tucked her short, light brown hair behind her ears, her face glowing with excitement.
Katie smiled. "This week I'm not really doing anything, but the week after that I get to go to a summer camp." Her grin widened, and her heart fluttered with excitement as she remembered the camp's description.
"Sounds cool. What do you get to do there?" Nora asked.
Katie's bright green eyes twinkled. "Archery, horseback riding, canoeing, navigation, survival skills, rock climbing…adventurous stuff, you know."
Nora smiled widely. "That sounds like it was made for you! I wish I could go. But…I'll be in Hawaii all summer with my grandparents."
Katie's eyes lit up. "Hawaii? You're serious? Why didn't you tell me earlier?! That's amazing! I've never been over an ocean! That sounds like so much fun!"
Nora laughed. "Sorry. I guess I can try and pack you in my suitcase."
Katie chuckled and absently ran a hand through her long, dark auburn hair, which went down to the middle of her back. "Right. You do that. Make sure you pack lots of food, then. And poke air holes."
Nora giggled. "Don't worry, Ash. I'll take lots of pictures. So many that you'll feel like you're there! You can come over when we get back and I'll show you everything."
The girls walked along the sidewalk to their neighborhood. Clouds rolled across the sky; every few seconds the sun would be blotted out. The temperature was perfect: warm, with a soft, cool breeze blowing. Katie closed her eyes briefly, feeling the sun and wind on her cheeks. She could smell the flowers in her neighbors' yards, the sharp and sweet scent of nasturtiums and the malodorous aroma of daisies almost entirely masked by the ever-present smell of pine sap… she heard the wind rustling the pines' needles, whispering through the branches and between buildings; the sounds of children playing in nearby backyards and the creaking of a swing-set reached her ears, along with the twittering of two barn swallows teaching their children how to fly.
"No, no, Freckle! First you flap your wings. We'll teach you how to glide later—FRECKLE!" The mother swooped down after her errant hatchling, saving him from a nasty fall.
That was one of the odd things about Katie; not only were her senses extra-ordinarily keen, but she had a connection with animals. Once as a child she'd gone into the forest behind her house alone, and an elk had approached her. At first she'd been terrified and sank to the ground in fear. Then the elk had approached her and nuzzled her shoulder gently. Suddenly unafraid, she had stood and stroked his head.
Another time a flock of little finches had landed on and around her, twittering, and she had discovered that she could understand them. At the age of eight, she found out that, not only could she understand them, but she could also speak back. She kept her gift a secret from everyone—her parents, her sisters, even Nora. She had no idea why she could speak to animals, but she knew that if she told anyone about her gift, she'd sound insane and people would think she just wanted attention or something.
She could also tell the value of jewelry simply by looking it, and while looking at rocks and minerals on a nature hike or in her backyard, she knew instinctively whether they were sandstone, quartz, or obsidian. When clouds rolled in she felt a certain excitement, and if she wanted a storm badly enough, one would come only a day later. Electricity couldn't shock her. And she thought that she had breathed underwater once, when she was really young, although it had happened so long ago that she wasn't certain if it had been a dream or not.
She said goodbye to Nora when she reached her house, and walking inside she paused only to grab a drink of water before walking into the woods outside. The clouds had all blown past, and the blue sky was now unobscured. The sun was slowly heading west.
Katie hurried to a certain tree, old and gnarled, stretching into the sky as if desperate to catch every passing cloud in its branches. This was her favorite tree to climb, mainly because no matter how many times she did it, it was still a thrilling challenge. She'd always loved climbing trees, ever since she was in kindergarten, but when she was able to climb over two hundred feet, her parents begged her not to climb anymore. It was dangerous, especially without the proper equipment.
But Katie was positive she didn't need that equipment. She'd never slipped, never fallen, and never expected to. With a running start, she raced towards the tree, kicking off of the trunk and jumping to catch the lowest branch—at least ten feet above the ground. Bracing her feet on the trunk, she climbed up to the next branch. From there it was like climbing a vertical ladder. She'd reach up for the next branch and step up onto one beneath her.
She reached the crown of the tree and pulled herself up to the highest branches. The world was spread out before her as she gazed upon her home: a sea of pine trees in one direction, and the city in another with the San Francisco Peaks behind it, tall and proud.
Her tree swayed in the wind; a rush of exhilaration shot through her veins. She spread her arms, relishing the feeling of almost flying. It was absolutely exhilarating.
She heard a familiar bird call, and a red-tailed hawk alighted on her shoulder. Katie smiled. "Hi, Drorin," she said to the bird. Drorin was the one animal who returned to her almost daily, and he always seemed to know where she was.
"Felt something new today," he said.
"Like what?" she asked.
"A tingling in my wingtips; a buzzing in my brain. The presence of someone, someone like you. All over the land I flew, but I found not the One. The tingling, the buzzing, is very faint, very faint indeed." Like all hawks, he spoke as if singing an otherworldly song. There was an ethere
al rhythm in every syllable.
Katie frowned. This was the first time he'd come to tell her about something other than his latest hunt. Even stranger, she'd felt something exactly like what he'd described earlier in the day, while at school. She'd blamed it on her feet falling asleep and not enough water, but it was interesting that Drorin had felt something similar. "Weird. That happened to me, too—the tingling. It made my last few exams harder than they should have been. What do you mean, there's someone like me?"
"Similar abilities, yet entirely different. Not human, not animal. Something, something this Earth knows nothing of." Drorin peered solemnly at her.
"Weird," she said again, but her enthusiasm was waning. Drorin would tell her that the lizard he'd caught was a fire-breathing dragon depending on his mood. This was probably one of those days. "Well, thanks for telling me."
