Taber

by K Fisher

  My aunt’s sudden scream tares through the house, her eyes clearly now able to see what I had touched, which only makes the fur stand up on Iris’s back and a growl fall from her muzzle. My aunt is waving her arms towards the wolf as if she means to swat it, trying to grab my arm to pull me away.

  “Auntie, stop, please. She’s not going to hurt us,” I say, trying to calm her, but she will not see reason and only screams louder.

  Already I can hear movement in the house as my cousins and family awake with the commotion. Without taking a moment to think further on what I would do, I grasp onto Iris’s crimson fur and swing myself onto the large back of the ghostly wolf.

  As soon as I am holding on tightly, the wolf takes off. Sucking in air, I almost fall off her back as Iris takes the stairs three at a time and launches herself down towards the front of the house, her nails skidding along the wooden floorboards. When she reaches the door I gasp, for it is already swung wide and open to the night air outside as if it meant to beckon us. By the shore’s edge, the bodies of the pups are no longer seen, only a shimmering glow upon the sand where they had laid once before.

  Iris flings her head upwards and I can feel the howl from the depths of her chest. We are running again, racing into the forest as trees and their branches snag at my nightdress but they merely go through my amber wolf beneath me.

  Finally, she slides to a halt near the edge of a massive cliff. Below, the ocean beats against the rocks and sings a calming song into the night with each crash of the waves. I slide off her back and lightly touch Iris’s head, still unable to wrap my head around what had happened between the two of us and how I could have possibly brought her back to life.

  How can I return to my home now that the courage to leave has been dropped in front of me? If anyone in our parts knew I possessed magic as dark as necromancy, a power only whispered about, I would surely be put in a worse situation. Magic is not loved near the High Mountains as it is so close to the castle.

  Let my father come, let him try to harm me. I will not go back or return to him. I am not yet home, but I will find a new one.

  By my side, Iris would remain.

  Chapter One

  Above the forests of Nevina

  Close to the Great Mountains

  “Although there’s no spell or incantation that can directly teleport us to where we are heading, there’s a great many ways you can learn to assist with a faster journey. It’s just important to stay aware during your travels! Anything can happen!”

  Bethinium’s voice was loud and low, cutting through the winds that pushed at Silthia’s wings. They were just breaking through the last of the Nevina forests, the jagged High Mountains in the distance no longer a far-off heading, but instead a mere half day away walking.

  Thankfully, the five-month journey had been tackled in only a few weeks with the help of Silthia’s speed.

  “Stay…Aware,” Alni responded, the words slow and slurred as his head nodded forward, eyes half-lidded with exhaustion as he fought the sleep that threatened to overcome him. Alni’s arms were lazily wrapped around one of Silthia’s large spikes, a shimmer of amethyst magic encircling both his waist and Bethinium’s the only thing keeping them securely on the dragon’s back as they traveled towards the mountainside. She was careful to keep just above the trees, high enough to accommodate her wingspan, and yet not too high that others could observe their travel too closely.

  Even with the rightful heir to the throne in place, the dragons were still without order and the Kingdom was far from understanding and accepting of all that had transpired just a few weeks prior; especially with both Alni and Bethinium absent from the castle. Not that a half-elf with mysterious magical abilities, a dragon and a knack for finding trouble, or the previous King’s warlock were too essential during that time, but Dora should have received all the backup necessary to transition into the castle. Still, Bethinum felt he did not have another choice but to leave temporarily and now, so close to the mountainsides and where he knew his son would be, he prayed it had been the right decision.

  Alni’s head nodded downward again and a snore escaped his lips as his body slacked forward and the magic around his wrist flickered with his lack of focus. Silthia had lowered towards a field on the outskirts of a small village in the shadow of the mountainside, and although they were closer to the ground, it was still too dangerous to remove the magic keeping him safely on her back. Bethinium’s hands reached for the spike before him, securing himself as he swung a leg towards towards Alni’s body. At the same time, he released the weak magic keeping them both firmly on Silthia’s back and pressed his foot against Alni’s side. Without the magic to hold them and no grasp on Silthia, his body moved easily with the pressure of Bethinium’s foot.

  Alni’s emerald eyes snapped open and a panicked noise left his lips, turning quickly into a bellow of panic as his body slipped from Silthia’s back and hit open air. He was falling towards the ground, arms beating the air wildly as the only mentor he had ever known laughed above, foot outstretched where it had kicked.

  “STAY AWARE!” Bethinium yelled after him.

  Silthia’s grumble of disapproval vibrated through her entire body below him. “Shouldn’t we get him?” her voice rumbled out above the wind as her body lowered towards the ground, wings cutting through the air.

  “No, he’s got it!” Bethinium said, but he was frowning at Alni’s flailing and falling form. The boy was almost to the ground and although the height of the fall would not kill the half-elf, it would certainly hurt if he didn’t think quick on his feet, and fast. “At least, I hope he’s got it…”

  Alni’s yells were still loud and terrified, hands extended in front of his face and towards the ground as he became dangerously close to impact. Just as he was about to hit, a blast of amethyst magic erupted from his fingertips, hitting the ground below with a force so powerful it pushed his body away from the painful landing, instead launching him upward a few more feet in the air. It lessened the speed of his fall, but still he landed awkwardly in the grass close by with a thump.

  Silthia had lowered herself to the ground, wings beating the air and kicking up wind around him as she slowed her own landing, talons embedding into the soft ground beneath her feet as her long head craned towards Alni quizzically. Her oval nostrils flared as she sniffed his body, turning her head to Bethinium as he slid from her back and adjusted his robes, her face nothing short of cynical.

  Alni slowly stood, his shaking hand snatching out to grab his maroon cap on the ground beside him. Stuffing it on his head over his red hair, he glared at Silthia and Bethinium, his voice was venomous.

  “Really? Truly! What in Desin were you thinking?”

  “That you really can stay aware! Well done, Alni.” Bethinium was grinning ear-to-ear, even as Alni approached him with rage in his eyes, hands shaking at his side.

  The old warlock had burst into a fit of laughter as Alni’s hands lifted and reached forward to the warlock’s shoulders and shook the old man, who was not seeming at all phased by the anger of his comrade. Silthia stretched out her wings, ignoring the both of them as she looked towards the evening sky.

  “Don’t ever, ever do that again,” Alni managed out, letting go of Bethinium as he stormed towards Silthia, taking a seat on the grass near her, breaths still coming out in fast, quick gasps as his hands spanned the ground below and relished in safety.

  “Alas, but it worked so beautifully. You really are getting better and better at using the power that has been gifted to you. Tell me, Alni, what were you thinking of when you summoned the magic to save yourself?”

  “What my body would look like splattered on the ground, I imagine,” Alni sighed, letting his body fall back on the grass as he stared upward at the stars above. He turned his head slightly to glare over at Silthia. “You were absolutely no help, I thought we were supposed to be bonded or something? Some friend you are.”

  “I would not have let you die,” she responded s
imply, the smallest of a twitch at the edge of her scaled, opal-colored mouth appeared friendly enough, but almost made Alni second guess the honesty. “This is the last town before we take on the High Mountains. We can set up camp here or you two can take refuge at an inn and alert me when we take our leave in the morning.”

  At the mere mention of an inn and the thought of a comfortable bed as opposed to what they had been enduring previously, Alni’s head popped up from the ground, looking over to Bethinium.

  “That’s where my vote is. I’ve gone a week without a proper sleep, been training day in and day out and thrown off the back of a dragon. I’m going to have a clean bed tonight,” he stood from the ground slowly, dramatically stretching his hands above his head and groaning as he extended his body as far as it would go.

  “Yes, yes. That does sound like a good plan,” Bethinium responded, one hand moving to his beard, toying with the red bead braided into one of the long, white strands. “Well, we better get going, then! It’s becoming later and later by the second. Thank you again, Silthia for the lift thus far. We will come back to this same field tomorrow morning and start the final leg of our journey. Let us hope Taber is known in these parts. With the absence of many magic users this side of Desin, I imagine he will stick out, if he has made any of his magical ability apparent.”

  Silthia nodded lightly, already turning towards the forest without a further word. Alni gave her a small wave as her large body disappeared between two large oak trees but there was nothing more than a nod from her in their general direction. She was often quiet during their travels, distant and reserved as she observed the training and discussions between Alni and Bethinium, he could not help but wonder what she had experienced during her time before the Mystic Dragon brought her back from beyond and how much it would change her ultimately. When he turned back to Bethinium, the old man was already starting off towards the shadows of the village.

  Running after him, Alni quickly caught up, eyes scanning the town roofs and buildings before stopping at the jagged mountainside just beyond. There were a great many mountains that side of Desin but it was clear which ones were the High Mountains, the jagged edges of the tops reaching like gnarled branches to the skin. The largest of peaks was said to be the home of the dwarves, although not many had reported back about the comings and goings of dwarves, the small beings preferring to be with their own kind.

  The cold wind made him shiver and he pulled his cloak tighter against his body. Their boots kicked up mud as they entered the town and made their way towards the sound of music and laughter, an old, shabby tavern illuminated before them by nothing more than two lanterns swinging in the wind.

  “Suppose we can start here,” Bethinium said rubbing his hands together and giving Alni a wink as he reached for the sack of coins tucked away at his side.

  “Suppose so. What harm can come from a rowdy tavern, anyhow?”

  Chapter Two

  The Elven Lands, Castle Herrick

  Formerly Castle Mallor.

  Choking.

  Dora was choking on something deep within her throat, her hands grabbing at her chest as if to relieve herself of the pain twisting inside her body. There was no escaping the sensation that weakened her more and more with each passing second and each struggle to breathe, knowing the end would come for her in time. She was reaching with hands that seemed foreign and too large for her body, grasping the edge of her mother’s old, familiar vanity to help herself to her feet.

  When she looked into the mirror, steadying her body through the pain, it was not her own eyes that peered back at her, but the clear blue eyes of her father. King Herrick was choking and dying in her reflection, his life fading from his eyes, a milky hue taking over and stripping the last of her father from his body. Behind her, behind the dying body of the King, an evil laugh filled the room. Now she was falling to the stone ground but this time the hands that fought to steady the body were her own, no trace of her father remaining as she looked down at him on the ground below.

  Dead. He was dead and there was nothing she could do to stop it. Still, Dora was able to comprehend somehow that she was in a nightmare and couldn’t take control of the situation before her. Despite the knowledge of falsehood in the world around her, emotions and fear were still heightened and tore at her reserve with every staggering step she took towards the man who had been laughing at her father’s demise.

  Instead of seeing Mallor, the vile evil who had killed her father King Herrick and died during the battle for the castle, she saw someone that surprised her and placed an instant weight on her chest. Mallor’s evil laugh barked from behind Alni’s mouth, his tall frame standing in the doorway of her father’s room as he glared down at the King’s motionless body.

  His bright green eyes were sparkling with a happiness she knew he would never truly possess in such a situation, long fingers gripping onto the door to the room before he closed it slowly behind him, blocking them both in. With long strides, Alni made his way to Dora and she refused to back down, knowing it could not be him and it was all still but a nightmare.

  “Little princess of mine, never to be Queen. You think they will accept a woman on the throne? You should have begged me to stay, I would have put things right… They would have trusted me.”

  Dora had a great many biting responses on her tongue ready to be thrown at the imposter Alni, only to find she was unable to speak once again. The choking had continued, her fingers back at her own throat as she fought to rid herself of the strangling feeling, a pressure at the front of her neck prohibiting her from breathing.

  Closing her eyes and concentrating, Dora tried her hardest to escape, deep laughter erupting once more from the false Alni and surrounding her.

  Not really him. Not really him. Wake up. Wake up.

  ~

  Dora’s golden eyes shot open, wild and dilated as she searched her room for the cause of her nightmares and who was behind the lingering laugh that echoed all around her. A laugh that had not dissipated when her nightmare ended.

  It had been a restless night filled with dreams of those who had died; Her father, crying out to her for assistance from behind a closed door, her mother, running with a baby in her arms as she tried to escape the grasp of Mallor. Every time it was the evil man she hated hidden behind the face of Alni. Mallor…The very warlock who had killed everything dear to Dora and taken over her birthright before plunging Desin into a world of chaos. There was no being alive or dead that could convince her Alni was anything like the man that had previously been King, no matter how short a time she had known him.

  Just a dream, it was all just a dream.

  Her breathing started to regulate, mind slowing down as she grasped where she was and that her nightmare had finally ended. The bed was firm beneath her fingertips and grounding as she pulled away the sheets and slipped from the warmth. Sweat trickled down her spine and she wiped at her face viciously, clearing it of tears she did not remember shedding.

  Dora made her way across the large bedroom she had come to call her own, cursing the lack of windows and open air as she paced from one corner to the other before heading back to the bedside. Airflow, she needed it to think and the confines of the room pressed into her, leaving her feeling like a bird in a cage that could not stop picking at her own feathers in anxious desperation.

  She had spent the entire day speaking to those in Glade and the Elven lands who needed her help, keeping up with a variety of menial tasks while her treasurer, guards and personal scheduler hovered closely. There was never a moment to simply breathe those days and it had been brought to her attention that a great many more troubled groups would be traveling in to speak with her in the following days. Never ending. It was all never ending. But worth it, Dora had to remind herself.

  “You’ll never be rid of me, Princess.”

  Her head snapped towards the door to her room, body lunging towards the side table near her bed in a movement quicker than the eye could see. Dora tore
open the top drawer and grasped the heavy knife from within, waving it out in front of her threateningly as her eyes searched for the root of the voice.

  There was nothing but empty air surrounding her, revealing no enemy and certainly not the dead man she knew the voice belonged to. She could still see his long black hair matted to his face, confident dark eyes sizing her up as he decided she would die for treason. It was a death sentence that had not worked out the way he had intended in the end.

  “You’re dead. You’re dead,” Dora repeated the words, slowly lowering her knife as she tried to calm herself, refusing to give in to the trickery that had plagued her nights.

  Usually, by the time the words were uttered the taunting voice of Mallor would leave her be, ending her torment and reminding her that a mind under pressure could see and feel a great many worrisome things. This time, Dora knew things were different, a shadow in her room caught her eye as she brought the knife at her side back up to action.

  It drifted across the wall of her bedroom, an outline of a tall, broad-shouldered man that shrunk and manipulated itself downward until it was upon the floor, manifesting into a massive shape. It was too dark to see its face, but still a threat came with each word it spoke to her. Dora felt like her throat was swelling, gut twisting as she listened intently to what it had to say, the knife still held tightly in her hand.

  “Never dead, never gone. I’ll always be here.”

  Her heart was racing, body trembling with fear and anger as she swallowed the lump in her throat. All she had to do was cry out for her guards and get their attention and the door would be thrown open for assistance. They would attempt to apprehend the presence that dared make her feel uneasy in her own castle and most certainly validate whether or not it was a risk to her life. Instead of giving her further reason to yell, however, the shadow darted towards the large, wooden door leading into Dora’s room and shrunk, leaking and pressing beneath the doorframe and into the hallway beyond until it was no longer in the room.