by D E Boske
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Casting a gate spell, Darian left his tower, his supplies stored safely in his magical haversack. He was careful not to use his magic unless a situation demanded it. The enemy and any other magical being would feel it.
He had a difficult road ahead of him, a dangerous one indeed. He was secure in the knowledge that the elf did not know where he was and could not follow. As much as he would like the elf’s assistance, it was far too dangerous. Darian could not risk Kyler coming to Mogan Dar and possibly finding out more truths that he would rather keep hidden. He made sure that he cast his gate several miles outside the elves’ community, so as not to alert the border guard.
He wore the robes of his order now, cowl pulled close. He needed the benefits it gave him. No weapon could pierce the magical hide. It was also immune to all but the most powerful spells. His Shryvven would grant him invisibility should he will it to do so.
He was not afraid, though he did miss the elf’s companionship. It would be a long, dark road without him. However, he had been through much worse. Like his teaching, training, and the tests. That was something he was not prepared to share with Kyler, though he knew the elf was curious. Maybe someday he would tell him… but for now…
He thought of Tynuviel, how good she felt in his arms, her lips on his. When this was all
over, assuming he did not die, he would take her to his tower and make love to her for days. Then a curious thought struck him, what if she doesn’t want me then?
What would he do if she were with Trighton? Pain knifed through his heart at the realization that she may lose interest. Gods! He thought, life can be so complicated! He would have to take his chances. For her, he would walk through fire, with his Shryvven, because it would protect him of course. That didn’t lessen his commitment, did it?
He heard riders approaching. Willing his cloak to make him invisible, he dove in the tall grass off the side of the road. When the riders appeared, Darian relaxed a bit. There were only two, but… One was a bard, perhaps a traveling minstrel. He had several instruments tied down to his horse.
The other was the one Darian watched closely. He had a manner about him; the way he carried himself. Nothing escaped his dark gaze. The horses stopped right where the Mage was hiding. If he were a damned human, he would be nervous, covered in sweat. He was neither. He was a Mage of The Order. He feared nothing.
The tall stranger with the dark, calculating eyes jumped from his mount and began searching the area. He sniffed the air, bent low to inspect the earth, sifting it through long, slender fingers.
Somehow, he was on Darian’s trail, following it all the way back to where he emerged from the gate. This set the Mage’s teeth on edge. He called to mind several powerful spells, readying them just in case.
“What is it Mord…” began the minstrel, but the other cut him off.
“Never speak my name aloud!” said the other, storm clouds brewing behind his eyes.
“What have you found?” asked the minstrel contemptuously.
“Magic, don’t you feel it? Taste it in the air? There is a Mage around here. He cannot be far. Let us follow his trail; it leads to gold I’m sure.”
“Will you try to pick his pockets then?” asked the minstrel, mirth dancing in his eyes.
So, thought Darian, a thief; for that was surely what the tall one was; and a minstrel. What an odd couple, he smirked at the thought. What were he and Kyler, if not an odd pair as well?
How could a mere thief have sensed his presence? Only another magical being should have been able to do so. Darian cast a simple cantrip at the thief. If he was cloaked in illusion, Darian would know. His spell revealed nothing.
Darian ground his teeth in frustration, cursing under his breath. He could not cast another gate spell. He was not totally familiar with this area. A Mage must know his starting point and his destination or risk certain death.
In his time at Piri-Tuma, he’d been witness to many Mage’s mistakes. One he remembered
clearly. The Master was ordered to cast a gate spell to Al-Dan-Tir. He did so, however, he miscalculated his end point and his upper body merged with a rock. The Order of course, left him there to die. It was his stupidity that killed him, they said. They were better off without such a weakling.
The thief moved slowly, studying the ground intently. “He must not have come down this way. I see no tracks, no sign of his passing. Damn magic users!” the thief cursed. The Mage chuckled to himself. The time he spent with the elves had surely benefited him.
Of a sudden the sky darkened, the sun blotted out by a huge shadow. Darian looked skyward and saw… Morphindinaetlus! The dragon was circling in the sky searching… searching… for him, the Mage knew.
The minstrel and the thief jumped into the tall grass, an elbow’s reach from the Mage. The horses stomped their hooves, screeching in dismay, until the minstrel was able to calm them down.
Above, the dragon roared in anger, then flew north and quickly disappeared. Out of danger now, the two riders rode off heading west, coming very close to the elves’ border.
As he relaxed, the Mage laughed at the irony of the situation. If they only knew how close they had been to their goal. Invisible still, the Mage emerged from the tall grass, and kept going. Morphindinaetlus must have been close to sense his magic. Damn it! He thought. I must be more careful!
He knew what he had to do once he was in Mogan Dar, but was loathe to do it. Delvishan had warned him to stay away, but he needed information. They would never look for him right under their very noses. The Mages had become arrogant and sloppy. All he knew was that one of his own was after him. He did not know their identity. He did not know whom he could trust. He needed to talk to Aganor, his mentor and the highest-ranking Mage of his order.
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Branson Thundershield sat on his throne, his dwarven attendants surrounding him. He was sampling a batch of ale his clan had brewed and after twelve tankards, he was quite sure he liked it. He was a young king, not quite one hundred yet. His father had been killed in a goblin raid several years ago, and he had held the throne ever since.
He was troubled though; Stryker and Kibblewolf had just returned from Al-Dan-Tir and reported seeing signs of heavy goblin activity. Already, he ordered his clan to shore up the defenses and begin preparing for war. He knew it was only a matter of time. Had he known the scope of it, he would have been more troubled.
He contemplated sending a detachment to the elves, but thought better of it. He knew magic guarded their ancient forest home. The dwarves would never get there; the magical wards would kill them before they were able to reach Galavad. Still, he felt it was his duty to do something.
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Kyler and Nephraete slipped away at deep night, making their way quickly and silently past the night watch. Their elven cloaks made them invisible, blending them with the night’s shadows.
Passing through the wards, he concentrated on blending them in with the magic. He knew the secrets of the magic and how to manipulate it. This knowledge served him well now.
Nephraete remained by his side, clutching his hand in silence. He sensed she had an idea of what he was doing and was grateful she did not speak. Her small hand felt good in his, cool against his hot flesh.
Once they were through, he did not let go of her hand and she did not ask for its release. They kept their cowls up and kept to the shadows. The less they were seen, the better. They had agreed that they should keep on the move as much as possible and not stay at any inns along the way.
They did not need much rest; they were not humans, after all. They carried only what they needed to get to Limmin. Kyler led her to a secluded spot where he had previously tied two horses. They moved swiftly as there was no one about at such a late hour.
They arrived near Mishkalan under a cloud heavy sky. They went out of their way to avoid the town. They could not spare any time for distraction.
Kyler’
s apprehension grew with each league the horses covered. He chided himself for his uncustomary behavior. He was an elf! He should not let things get to him like this. He could barely concentrate. He knew he should only be thinking of Destiny, but Nephraete was looming large in his thoughts. This time, if Destiny would not leave with him, he would make sure she was safe before returning home.
It had taken weeks to reach Kiri A’ Nouell. They had been in the elven homeland close to two months now. The need to see her again and make sure she was alright nearly overwhelmed him. They were far enough from Mishkalan that Kyler felt it was safe to stop and rest the horses.
Kyler took note of the changing of the season. The Plains, once lush with the life of summer, were now preparing for the onslaught of the long winter months ahead. It was late summer and autumn would be upon them before they returned to Kiri A’ Nouell. Farmers were preparing for the last harvest of the year and the scent of pumpkin spice was in the air.
The grass, once green, now had turned a sickly yellow. The trees were beginning to shed their leaves for the cold months coming. Only the coniferous trees retained their bounty.
Nephraete watched him closely, easily reading the emotions that were flitting across his handsome face. How she wanted to take him in her arms! To tenderly kiss his brow and wipe away his despair. For she knew what they would find when they arrived at their destination. She had seen it. Sometimes, she hated her ability and felt it was a curse. Few would desire to make a life with her, even among her own people. In fact, T Ama’ Ro took their Crebellan as their lover.
She was sure the handsome prince was different, though she knew his heart belonged to another. Yet, of all people to accompany him, he had chosen her. When she looked up, he was looking at her, eyes cloudy with indecision. Her heart reached out to him, but she did not know what to do.
He stood, walked over to her and sat beside her. Her heart hammered in her chest, sounding loud to her ears. He took her hand in his, saying nothing for some time. She did not want to ruin the moment; her skin came alive at his touch. He made her feel things she never thought were possible. She was in love with him, she knew, and it pained her because it was unrequited. Their friendship grew as the days flew past, but it was not what she wanted. She wanted so much more!
How ironic, she thought. I can see so many things, catch glimpses of others’ lives, but my own future remains unknown to me. Kyler let his fingertips gently stroke her hand. Somehow, fate had brought them together, they could not stay away from each other and yet… Tenderly, he touched her face, looking deep into her eyes.
“Nephraete… I’ve done something incredibly rash, I…” he trailed off putting his head in his hands. The moment was gone now, the spell broken.
The inner turmoil that consumed him was unbearable. He was tormented with every moment spent in Nephraete’s presence and yet, he wouldn’t have it any other way. Over the days they had spent traveling together, Kyler had begun to harbor deeper feelings than mere friendship for the seer. He was unable to reconcile what he was feeling. He’d been so sure he was in love with Destiny and yet, when he looked at the seer, he knew he’d been mistaken.
“I fell in love with a young girl and asked her to marry me. Father was so upset. I’ve never seen him so angry! If he knew where we were right now… I just have an overwhelming feeling that she needs me. That if I don’t hurry… If something happens to her, I’ll never forgive myself.”
“Never, is a long time for an elf.” The seer replied, without a trace of humor in her voice.
“Indeed. We should keep moving. We’ve still a long way to go.” Wordlessly, they rode on.
Nephraete could not help but wonder what could have passed between them, what she wanted most to happen. She felt a part of him wanted it as well. But he was fighting it, he was committed to Destiny. She admired him for it and hated herself for feeling what she did. They rode in silence for some time, neither knowing what to say. The day was chill, the sun did not emerge, and before long, it began to rain, slow and steady.
Days passed them by in much the same manner, until one day the sun emerged from behind the clouds. They were nearing their destination. They were so close now that Kyler’s anxiety began to show. Something’s wrong, he thought. Nothing felt right. His surroundings were telling a story, but he was too absorbed in his own fears to pay any heed.
The town of Limmin appeared on the horizon, a dark stain against the clear blue sky. Kyler gently pressed his knees against his horse’s flesh, galloping toward the town. Thick black smoke rose in the sky, blotting out the sun. The Copper Bottom was heavily damaged, much of the roof gone, burned. The fields and crops were gone as well. The smoky air held a tinge of magic to the sensitive elves’ nostrils.
“Morphindinaetlus! He’s been here,” the handsome elf exclaimed. At the sound of Kyler’s voice, Shermin turned and met his gaze. There were tears in his eyes as he wrung his hands, giving an almost imperceptible shake of his head. Kyler urged his horse onward, to Destiny’s cottage.
What he found there knocked the wind from his lungs. The once bright, warm cottage was cold and lifeless; an empty shell. Kyler felt evil here, it was palpable. Briefly, he hesitated before crossing over the threshold. The dragon had been here as well; the inside was destroyed by an unnatural fire.
Tears he was not even aware he was shedding traced a path through the ash smudged on his face. When he found Destiny’s body, it was only recognizable by the ring on her finger, his ring. He gently removed it from her crisp flesh to place it on his left index finger. Her belly was torn; it appeared as if something had been removed… Frantically, his eyes searched the gloom until… There, tucked in the corner, he saw it; a cradle with a small still form. His mind reeled. This was his child!
“No!” The scream that erupted from him tore the Magical Fabric. Every magical being within five leagues could feel the disruption.
The scream rent Nephraete’s heart, leaving her ears ringing. She wanted to go to him, but felt Kyler needed distance right now. Her vision had not prepared her for this, and her own eyes burned as hot tears fell freely. Nephraete’s heart ached in time with Kyler’s. This was a terrible, dark deed. It was unthinkable. She could not fathom the depth of the prince’s pain.
He sunk to the floor amidst the filth and wept uncontrollably, his shoulders shaking with the force of it. Nephraete could stand it no longer. She went to him, holding him as he wept. His arms encircled her waist and he held her close. After a long while, he stopped crying but did not let go of her.
“This is my fault. I should have taken her with me,” he whispered so softly, her sharp ears barely caught it. She pushed him back gently to look into his eyes.
“This was not your fault. You cannot be everywhere, elf prince. You cannot possibly stop all of the evil in this world.” She stood, then clasped his hand and helped him rise.
“Come, let us put them to rest and do the elven Rites of Passage,” she said, not letting his hand go.
Kyler dug the graves while Nephraete spoke the words in their ancient tongue. Then she danced and sang while Kyler wept. It was almost dark when they were finished. Shermin stood watching them, drying his tears with a soft cloth.
“They came upon us five nights past. The dragon burned our crops and anythin’ else in his path. They was lookin’ fer you and the Mage. They would not believe we did not know what’d become o’ you. Even had we known, we never woulda’ told ‘em. Pure evil, that. By the time I know what they was doin’, well, it was too late now. I got here, the house burnin’ ‘n all. I tried to get inside but the heat… n’ I call t’ her, no answer. Took almost two full days for the fire t’ die out n’ I went inside n’ found ‘em both. I left things the way they was. I had a feeling you’d be back. I’m sorry boy. Boy, now there’s a funny thing. I call you boy and you’re probably double my age at least. Well, that’s that then. I should get back, rebuilding n’ all. You’re always welcome Kyler, if ever you’re in these parts again. Ma’am
,” he acknowledged Nephraete, clasped Kyler’s hand and left for the Copper Bottom.
Kyler knelt by the gravesite. She could hear him whispering softly, but she dared not intrude. He drew his belt knife and slid the keen blade across the flesh of his hand, letting the blood drip to the ground. Nephraete stayed back, giving him his privacy. Nothing she could do for him, nothing she could say, could ease the pain of his loss. She could be there for him when he needed to talk, to be a friend and maybe someday, when his heart was mended, his lover.
“Nephraete, thank you for coming with me. I don’t know what I would have done had I been alone. You’re a good friend,” he knelt in front of her, clasping her hand. He raised it to his lips and kissed it tenderly.
“There’s no reason to stay here now, we should return home,” he told her.
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“Where could he be? I hope he has not done anything rash. If he’s gone after that girl I’ll…” the king’s argument was cut off by his wife.
“You’ll what? He can take care of himself. Would you rather he let her die?”
“Yes, I would. He is to be Ac Quay’ A one day and he needs to start being more responsible.”
“Do you hear yourself? Letting innocent people die, that’s being responsible? If he’s to be king, isn’t his responsibility to protect the innocent?” she asked, trying to reason with her husband, who was visibly upset. “We must assume that Darian is with him, he would not have left without him.”
“Then the Mage is gone as well?” the king asked, surprised.
“He has not been seen for several days. In fact, they both disappeared around the same time. They have been inseparable since they met. What do you think we should do?” Tiriel asked.
