Legend Warrior

by Liara Woo

  "Don't do that!" she exclaimed in an indignant voice, facing the scientist.

  "Do you think I'll just sit over there while you take my subject?" he asked, even angrier than she was. He tore the X-acto knife out of her grasp and held it to Joran's neck. Joran looked up at her with wide, terrified eyes. "Get out of here now, before I call the police and this blade slips," the scientist ordered. "I can study it just as effectively when it's dead." The knife was already drawing blood, and a thin stream of red liquid was dripping down Joran's neck.

  Katie stormed out of the workroom and headed downstairs. Time for plan B, she thought, quickening her pace. She stuck her head out of broken screen door. "Wolfbane, we need reinforcements!" she yelled.

  The howl of a coyote responded swiftly. "We hear you! We're coming!"

  Katie waited, watching the darkening woods, squinting through the lengthening shadows. Soon she saw Wolfbane's massive, lumbering form shoot out of the woods, followed by the smaller coyotes.

  The bear crashed through the door and the coyotes raced in, instantly causing havoc. They raced around, yipping and yapping, knocking over everything in their path: desk lamps, sofas, coffee tables, chairs… Katie whistled through her teeth and they stopped. She pointed to the staircase. "He's up there! Go get him!"

  Wolfbane led the charge, galumphing up the stairs and barreling through the door to the lab. It was knocked off of its frame and crashed to the ground. Katie heard the scientist scream as the massive black bear roared at him. The playful coyotes ran around her and into the workroom, knocking vials of chemicals off of the shelves and yipping like mad. One of them distracted the scientist, biting at the hem of his lab coat and tugging at it.

  "Don't hurt anyone!" Katie shouted desperately as another vial of chemicals crashed to the floor on top of the others—and ignited. The scientist saw the flame and, in a rare display of courage, ignored the coyotes and forced his way to a fire extinguisher in one corner of the room, spraying white foam at the flames and swiftly quenching them.

  Making good use of the distraction, Wolfbane ripped through the straps binding Joran to the table (unintentionally scratching his chest) and pushed him to his feet. "Down the stairs. Quickly!" she commanded. The elf limped towards Katie, his eyes wide with amazement. "Quite the rescue," he panted. Then his gashed leg buckled and he tumbled head over heels all the way down the stairs. For one brief moment the chaos halted and the coyotes, Wolfbane, and the scientist looked towards where Joran had fallen, grimacing.

  "That must have really hurt," one coyote commented, shaking his head.

  Alarmed, Katie raced down towards him. "Oh, my goodness! Are you alright?"

  Joran nodded, white faced. "J-just a bit bruised," he responded, pushing himself to his feet. "Quick; let's get out of here!"

  "Wolfbane! Come back!" Katie shouted, and the bear wasted no time in hurrying back down the stairs. But she was too eager; in her haste she also tumbled and rolled all the way down the stairwell, landing in a heap at the bottom. With a low groan she stood up again, giving herself a shake.

  "I'm alright," she growled, noticing Katie's anxious face. "Now where did those stupid coyotes get to?"

  As if in response, there was a loud bang! And a bullet sank into the wall just above Wolfbane's head. Katie screamed and saw the scientist at the top of the stairs, holding a gun that aimed directly at Joran's chest. "Run!" she shouted, grabbing his wrist and hurrying towards the ruined screen door. Wolfbane was faster; in her terror she sent Katie and Joran sprawling over an upended chair as she raced outside. The coyotes were right behind her, yipping and snapping at each other. "Faster! Faster!" they chorused as another gunshot rang out.

  Katie pulled Joran to his feet and sprinted outside, hearing the thud of the scientist's feet as he came downstairs but not pausing to look behind her. She could feel her legs burning with exhaustion; she ignored the feeling and dragged Joran onwards. Because of his mauled leg the elf couldn't run nearly as fast, so Katie was in the lead. She jumped as another gunshot rang out, and Joran gasped, one hand flying to his shoulder.

  "Did it hit you?" Katie exclaimed, horrified.

  "Y-yes," Joran replied in a high-pitched, frightened voice. He fell to his knees and to study the wound on his upper shoulder. "B-but it only grazed me…whatever it was…"

  "Come on; next time you might not be so lucky!" Katie said, again pulling him up and running towards the trees. Wolfbane and the coyotes were nowhere to be seen, but a gray horse was standing in the shelter of a douglas fir.

  "You never called," she snorted.

  "Sorry," Katie gasped, panting heavily. "I forgot."

  "Get on," the mare told them. "Unless you wish to be stuffed and hung on a wall."

  Joran cringed at the thought and swung himself onto the horse's back. He reached down and pulled Katie up behind him, and the horse galloped away as a third gunshot rang out.

  "Sorry I left you back there with the rangers," Katie said unhappily, holding tight to his waist to keep from falling off. "I was… scared."

  "Do not worry about that," Joran replied without turning around. "Everyone is afraid of something…except perhaps Halthren."

  "He's that brave?" Katie wondered skeptically. "Wouldn't torture scare him?"

  Joran shook his head. "He's the bravest elf I know. Torture will hold no sway over him. When I rescue him, he will be fine. He'll probably only say something casual, like 'Hello, Joran. How was Earth?' He will be perfectly fine when I reach him."

  Katie could hear an undertone of fear and tension in his voice. "I'm sure he will," she said reassuringly. Then she sighed. "My parents will kill me when they find out about all of this. Somehow that's more frightening than guns, scientists, and falling off an elk combined."

  "At least you have parents to return to," Joran said emotionlessly. Katie instantly regretted her words.

  "Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't mean it like that…"

  Joran didn't reply, and they rode on in awkward silence. They passed through the dark forest, among spidery shadows crisscrossing the ground. The aspens swayed gently in a light breeze.

  Eventually Joran broke the silence. "You would love Kylaras, Katie. It's a bit of heaven that's come down to the ground. There are long, winding rivers and lakes filled with waters so clear that you can see the smooth, sand-colored pebbles at the bottom, no matter how deep.

  "The trees are my favorite. Most of them are twice as tall as the ones here on Earth. The trunks are all mossy, and the leaves are a deep, vibrant green all summer. In autumn, they become dark, dynamic colors—red, orange, or yellow. The sun shines through them as if they were stained glass. In winter we get so much snow that the trees are almost buried, and the rivers and lakes freeze so thick that heavily laden warhorses can cross them as if they were sturdy bridges.

  "Then in spring, it all melts away, and for a few weeks the whole country is comprised of spectacular waterfalls cascading down the mountainsides. Afterwards the leaves of the trees begin to grow, and the blossoms of the fruit trees spring out of the branches in such perfect shades of pink. The pines, of course, never lost their needles to begin with, but with the arrival of spring they seem to glow with life.

  "The grass is a pale yellow-green, and a few blades grow to be as tall as I am, but most of them only reach my waist. Flowers are a few inches shorter…I feel so much taller here among your miniature vegetation. I… it's actually kind of enjoyable."

  "That's all wonderful," Katie said thoughtfully, trying to envision Kylaras in her mind. Then she frowned. "But if your land is so beautiful, how can demons, who sound like they'd despise Kylaras, live within it?"

  "They don't. They prefer to dwell within the volcanic wasteland of Kratchene located several days south of Kylaras. A black cloud of Darkness hides it from the gaze of the stars. The water is thick and polluted from the smoke that fills the air. There are eleven volcanoes, and at the foot of each one is a demon camp. In the center of Kratchene lies the largest volcano of them all…and
within it, so the tales say, dwells Nashgor, the Shadow Lord. No one knows for certain what It looks like. Some say that It's a spirit that can change form at will—a massive black dragon or a human. Others claim that It is a demon twice the height of an elf, unable to be defeated in battle.

  "The most frightening tales speak of a shadow made from pure evil, with glowing red eyes like embers. Its very presence is poison to elves.

  "All three versions of Nashgor have been seen in Kratchene. The shape shifter was seen in Vernisgard, the largest of the demon camps and a prison. The demon king stays in Kerrion, the second-largest demon camp and the training ground for the army. And the shadow has been seen in both places. Personally I think that Nashgor is a powerful shape-shifter.

  "It doesn't really matter what he is, though. Nashgor is trying to destroy us, and we elves are horribly outnumbered. Without aid, we will fall, and all of the goodness in the world will die with us.

  "Halthren told me something about you, Katie. He said, as we parted, that you would have incredible powers. Powers strong enough to overcome Nashgor. You mentioned some when we first met."

  "Did Halthren go into any specifics about the powers I have?" Katie asked.

  "There was no time. Demons were already coming for us," Joran answered. "But he probably had an idea. He is fascinated by legends, magic, and prophecies. The problem is…no one has ever returned to Allagandria from your world."

  "What's Allagandria again?"

  "That is what we call our world. Kylaras and Kratchene are two of its countries. There are others, of course, but elves rarely travel across the two oceans to get to them. Only dragons can survive the terrible hurricane that's been raging over the Ocean of Storms for millennia. And no one has the endurance or resources to either fly or sail to the other side of the Eternal Ocean. But Kylaras has long maintained trade with Dralantia, the land of the dragons. They bring us tales of griffins, dwarfs, mermaids…not unicorns, though."

  "Unicorns?!"

  "Yes; no one knows much about unicorns. Really, the only tales about them come from the most ancient of stories. Halthren told me about them."

  "Dragons," Katie whispered. "Mermaids. Griffins. Unicorns. This is just like something out of a dream."

  "This isn't fantasy," Joran assured her. "But neither of us will get there if you can't figure out some way for us to return."

  Katie's heart sank. There was no hope. Should I tell him what Drorin said? That the only way to find out how to get to Allagandria lies at the bottom of a lake? Should she tell him that it was impossible? What was the point in hiding the truth from him?

  Katie sighed. She was afraid—afraid of his disappointment, of seeing his face lose all hope. Hope is said to be a light, she thought. Since he's made of Light, would losing hope kill him?

  She shuddered. Of course, she was thinking ideologically, and it was more than likely that losing hope wouldn't kill him. When we reach the safe place Blackmane told me about…then I'll tell him. Maybe he can live forever in the White Mountains, and I can go back to camp and act as if nothing ever happened.

  She'd tell him the truth, and all of it: Yes, she had powers, but they were far below his expectations and she couldn't possibly help him.

  Katie felt sorrow weigh down her heart. She was disappointed in herself. For most of her life she'd gone above and beyond her parents' hopes for her. Now, when it really mattered, she couldn't succeed at anything. It was a heavy blow to her spirit and her self-confidence, and she saw in her mind a presage of Joran's expression when she told him she'd failed him. She saw his face, bright with hope and expectant; she saw his smile droop and his eyes lower away from hers.

  I'm sorry, she thought. I'm really sorry…

  Interrogation Begins

  Interrogation Begins

  Halthren sagged to the floor, drenched in sweat, as most of the iron links were taken from his starved body. But then he was chained spread-eagled to the wall and Blacknack paced in front of him.

  "You know something, elf," he snarled. "We searched that castle from top to bottom and we didn't find your prince. So tell me: what have you done with him?"

  Halthren glared at the demon. "I shall never tell you," he stated matter-of-factly. Blacknack kicked him in the stomach, and he let out his breath in a gasp.

  "But you will," the demon grinned. "You most certainly will. Garrock, bring in the vial of Terrors."

  Halthren felt a tremor go through him at the menacing name, but he forced his features to remain impassive. One of the other demons who'd brought him to Kratchene walked over to the wall, holding a vial of black liquid. He handed it to Blacknack, who stepped up to the chained elf and grinned widely. Halthren felt his heart beat faster. If this was some kind of potion that forced the drinker to tell the truth or enabled the interrogator to read the captive's mind…he didn't know if he could resist it or not. But I'll try. For Joran's sake, I'll try!

  He clenched his teeth as Blacknack approached with the small bottle, unstopping it and trying to force it past Halthren's lips. But the elf would not yield, and the demon growled aggressively. "So you want to be stubborn, then? Very well."

  He then proceeded to land five very powerful punches to Halthren's jaw. Halthren closed his eyes and clenched his teeth tighter together, forcing himself to ignore his throbbing and possibly broken jawbone. The next thing he felt was a painful blow to his stomach that forced him to expel his breath through his mouth. Blacknack reacted quickly, forcing the elf's head up with one massive hand and pouring the black potion down his throat. Halthren coughed and spat, trying to get rid of the stinging, burning liquid in his mouth, but Blacknack held his head with both hands and clamped his sore jaws together. On instinct, Halthren swallowed, and the demon let him go when he saw the elf's Adam's apple bobbing. Blacknack released him, and Halthren's head dropped to his chest. He coughed violently, painfully, as he felt the potion infiltrate his body.

  You fool! he scolded himself. Now they'll get anything they want out of you. He bit his tongue as hard as he could, drawing blood, in an effort to keep his mouth closed. Blacknack kicked him painfully in the shin. Halthren cringed and looked down, waiting for the questions to come and hoping he'd be able to hold the answers down.

  Blacknack counted to ten and approached his prisoner once more. Halthren closed his eyes and tensed, waiting. But the demon's voice never came. Instead Blacknack ripped through the thin material of Halthren's tunic and pressed a cold, black claw over the elf's heart. Halthren flinched at the icy touch and closed his eyes tightly.

  Are they reading my thoughts? he wondered fearfully. Are they hearing what I'm thinking even now as I'm asking myself? Of course, if they are, that's good, because I'm not thinking anything that could be harmful to Goodness…Hah! You like what you're hearing, Blacknack? Do you like all of this gibberish? Well, what do you think of this? Blah blah blah blah blah! So there!

  He heard Blacknack's horrid laughter again and felt the claw withdraw. He opened his eyes and looked up into the demon's glaring yellow gaze, feeling proud of himself for hopefully resisting the possible mind reading.

  "So," Blacknack hissed. "You are afraid of heights."

  Halthren blinked. The demon's words were absolutely true, but he definitely hadn't been thinking about his fear of heights while Blacknack had read his mind.

  The demon sensed his confusion. "No, I didn't read your thoughts, elfling. No potion can do that. The vial I forced you to drink was merely a way to find out what your greatest fear is. That knowledge should make our interrogation…easier." He licked his lips with his forked tongue, as if relishing the thought of an elf in great terror.

  Halthren found himself attacked by two very different emotions: relief and dread. He was relieved that there was no way for a demon to read his mind, but he was dreading what would next happen to him. "What will you do?" he asked in a low voice, not really expecting an answer. Then Blacknack's massive fist collided with the side of his head, right on the bruise Halthren had
gained in the demon camp, and rendered him unconscious.

  * * *

  The first thing he was aware of was a throbbing headache. He groaned and struggled to raise his heavy eyelids. He was sweating profusely; it was terribly hot wherever he was. At first he thought there was something wrong with his eyes; everything was a bright, burning orange.

  He closed his eyes and his mind was drawn to a burning pain in his wrists and a throbbing in his hands; his arms were wrenched high above his head and he was hanging from something by his wrists, which were tightly bound. His feet were prickling uncomfortably, and with a jolt he realized that there was nothing beneath them. His eyes flew wide open and he looked down, into a bubbling pit of magma hundreds of feet below him. Halthren shrieked in terror as his vision blurred and swam and bile rose in his throat. He was struggling to somehow reach one wall of the circular stone walls around him when he heard a startling SNAP! And he dropped several feet with a not-very-impressive-sounding squeal of terror. His stomach lurched uncomfortably, and he looked up, gasping for breath.