by Ethan Spears
He was only just attuning his shield to her magic when the spears gave way to bolts of pure energy, crackling and smashing through decades’ worth of belongings as if they were of no value. His shield faltered for a brief moment under the barrage, but he brought it into harmony with her spell, canceling the force of it on himself. He could see the effect the intense spell-casting was having on her as circles of sweat expanded quickly from her pits and chest. One foot moved forward to steady herself and, for the briefest moment, she looked ready to collapse.
And then it was over.
The whole episode lasted mere seconds, but the destruction was total. Nothing of hers was in one piece, every last object in the hut slashed, pierced, burnt, and broken. The buzz of energy slowly faded. Hunched from the efforts of her spells, she looked up. He was already standing before her, his blade in his hand, his eyes sad but resolute. She felt like he was going to stare at her forever. Shakily, she reached for his hand, guiding the blade to her throat. She pressed the tip against herself. He placed his other hand on the back of her head and closed his eyes. With one motion, he thrust his blade, pulling her head forward as he did so. He could feel the spine sever and the body fall limp nigh instantaneously.
She fell into his arms. He lowered her to the ground, cradling her limp form, and began to shamelessly bawl. Even as her blood stained his clothing, he hunched over her body, racking with sobs, almost screaming from sadness. Minutes passed in this way until his eyes exhausted themselves and his sobbing settled.
He stood shakily. He pulled the watch from his pocket and saw that he was out of time. He had to leave. Before him was the entrance to her hut, badly abused by her magics and the enchantments on it broken, but otherwise the same as it had always been. But it wasn’t her hut anymore: it was just another abandoned hut on the arid plains of Astran.
He reached blindly for the mirror, pulling back as his finger found a jagged edge. The mirror was shattered, a great chunk of rapidly-melting ice run through its center, pinning it to the wall. After the embrace, he had completely forgotten to shield it as well, but for the moment he couldn’t bring himself to care. He placed one foot before the other as he had so many times before, passed through the door and closed it behind him.
Mergau stared blankly at the scene, the waters eventually clouding over, awaiting some other item to be dropped in. After a moment, the magic faded, the light dimmed, and the water vanished. Mergau let it go.
Despite what she had just seen, Mergau stood by stoically. She had not cried, watching the scene unfold with a surreal detachment. She had just witnessed something that should have moved anyone to tears or, at the very least, profound sadness, but Mergau found herself indifferent. Only one emotional part of her responded, and that was the part that was glad to see the author of all her recent misfortunes come to a brutal end.
Mergau clutched at the rim of the vision pool, disgusted with herself. She had been mostly raised well, mostly treated well, and had been taught from childhood that finding joy in the pain of others was the sort of thing the eastern orcs did, the savage followers of Kenta, not the civilized peoples of the west. What had caused her to become like this, where she was actually pleased with Ezma’s death? Was it some trauma caused by the slaughter in the forest? Was it her past obsession with revenge? Was it something even darker?
Mergau did not like this aspect of herself. It terrified her. It made her feel like a monstrous person, something she hadn’t felt even when she held murder in her heart because she had convinced herself it was for reasons of duty and fraternal love.
She wasn’t convinced anymore. She had let something sinister roost in her soul, and only now was she coming to understand that.
She forced these thoughts aside. For all her faults, Mergau had a duty to perform, a duty that a woman had just sacrificed herself for. Whatever her reaction, she’d be damned if she let Ezma die in vain.
She could at least take comfort in the fact that she was right about the basin. She left the room. She quickly found the book Ezma had indicated, locating and retrieving the note. She unfolded it, finding the paper to be covered in very small writing on both sides, top to bottom. Mergau knew she would be reviewing it for some time to come. She sat at the table, pulled her plate over, and resumed her meal as she perused the detailed instructions on how to kill Kenta and save Aden.
Chapter 30
Judgment and Snow
Late on Aoden’s first night in prison, well after the jailor had gone home to his family, Madeleine came to visit. She didn’t have her red cloak, but she was still wearing the blue shirt and brown skirt from earlier.
“Ah,” he said when she walked in, “the girl who doesn’t keep her word. Come to see the elf you captured through honorless trickery?”
She was unperturbed by his words. She walked over to the bench across from the cell and sat down, the boys Jon and Arin following closely behind.
“Dad said we should stay away from him,” Arin was saying, hugging the wall and keeping as much distance between himself and the cell as possible.
“He’s your father, not mine,” she said. “And I didn’t ask you two to come.”
“Hey, someone’s got to protect you,” Jon said.
“Oh? And who’s going to protect you two?”
Jon tried to look like he didn’t care about the comment, but his cheeks turned red.
“What do you lot want?” Aoden said. Even the sight of the girl rankled him.
“Maddy wanted to see you,” Jon said. He received a cuff on the head from the girl.
“Shut up. And stop following me around. Go back home.”
Aoden leaned into the bars of his cell. “And why did you want to see me? Didn’t get a good enough look over the shaft of that arrow?”
“I didn’t take you because I wanted to. I had to. I have a duty to—”
“You didn’t have a duty,” Jon cut in. “You’re not a watchman. You’re not even old enough to be one.”
She shot him a scathing look. Maddy was about to speak again, decided against it, and stood up instead. “You know what? You’re right. We shouldn’t be here. Forget about it. Let’s go.” Jon and Arin jumped to their feet as she made her way swiftly out. Aoden was glad they were gone. He had enough people looking at him through the bars without adding those kids as well.
***
Madeleine returned two nights later with no boys in tow. She was wearing the same clothes. Aoden was starting to wonder how absolute the poverty here must be if even the Triarch’s daughter had only one set of clothing. Admittedly, hers were in better condition than others he had seen.
“You again?” he said. He had cooled considerably to her presence. His imprisonment was taking its toll on both his energy and mood.
“I didn’t want to talk to you with those two idiots around,” she said.
“You want to talk to me?
“I want to know about Adgronius Zeion.”
“Oh?” said Aoden. “Well, I’m not in a talkative mood right now.”
“Then I’ll wait.” She took a seat on the bench. Just like the last time, she visited so late that no other people were around. She probably didn’t want others to know she was here. If she wanted, she could stay until morning and nobody would see her.
They sat in silence for a while, he on his tiny, hard bed, sitting tall and straight, and her sitting on the bench, her feet folded under her on the seat and her hands clasped over her ankles. She had such an unnerving blank stare. He soon tired of trying to match her gaze and lay on his bed, staring at the ceiling instead. It was late, he was tired, and he began to drift off to sleep.
“Don’t you be going to sleep,” she said harshly.
“You can’t stop me.” He yawned and closed his eyes.
He heard the girl stand. She walked over to the bars of the cell, wrapping her hands around and placing her head against them. “What does ‘Saliel’ mean?” she asked.
“It’s an Elvish word,” he answered
automatically. “It means—”
He opened his eyes. He rolled onto his side, looking out towards the girl. She was staring at him intently. “How do you know that word?”
She smiled slowly. “Now you want to talk, do you? That’s curious. So, what does it mean?”
Aoden sat up. He couldn’t wipe the confused look from his face.
“If you want answers, then I’ll need answers,” she said.
Aoden shook his head. “I don’t know how you know that word, but it was a name that many elves use to refer to me.”
“A nickname?” she said. “What does it mean?”
He considered her. The question was innocent enough, but she had an oddly expectant look on her face. “It’s a combination of two elvish words. The main word is liel, which simply means ‘elf’ or ‘elven.’ The second is the prefix sa, used to denote ‘part’ or ‘half.’ Essentially, it means ‘half-elf,’ or close enough.”
She suddenly looked displeased. “That’s not true. You’re lying to me.”
Aoden was taken aback. “And what, do you speak Elvish?” he snapped at her.
“No.” She pushed off the bars of the prison. “I’m going. Maybe when I come back, you’ll feel like being honest with me.” She headed toward the exit.
“Wait a moment,” said Aoden. “How do you know that word? Why do you think I was lying?” The girl didn’t answer or look back, and soon she was gone, and Aoden was again alone.
***
“My name is Gale,” the woman said, offering a hand through the bars. Aoden shook it awkwardly, reaching up from the ground where he was getting what little exercise he could. Her eyes lingered on his shirtless form, her cheeks a light pink. “I’m heading a coalition of citizens who think that you should be set free.” She pointed behind her, and several people gave him vigorous nods.
“That’s… appreciated,” he said.
Gale was young and spoke enthusiastically, but her clothes and hair were a mess, giving her a harried and undependable look. All the people with her were likewise young and he could practically smell the idealism on them. “It’s such a dreadful shame, this whole imprisonment business,” she said. “Swinging a hammer around to determine innocence or guilt is no way to run a judicial system, especially when it never seems to work. I don’t know what Lady Mira is thinking. Anyway, she at least has to listen to your case, and we’re going to make sure it’s a good one.” She smiled brightly.
“That’s great,” Aoden said. “Hey, quick question before we start talking about my trial.”
“Sure, whatever you need, just ask.”
“Lady Mira’s girl, Madeleine, is there anything special about her? Is she psychic or a seer or anything like that?”
Gale let out a surprised laugh. “Maddy? Oh my, no. She’s a bit strange, I’ll admit—as I’m sure you must have noticed if you’re asking that question—but psychic? I don’t know what gave you that impression.”
“I see,” said Aoden. Gale began to babble on about the trial and the information and testimony she would need, but Aoden couldn’t concentrate on it. He couldn’t stop thinking about the girl and that word, saliel.
***
When Maddy returned three nights later, Aoden nearly leaped from his bed. “Finally, you’re back,” he said.
Maddy crossed her arms, pleased with his response. “That’s more like it. Now, it’s about time you told me about Adgronius Zeion.”
“Okay, but you have to tell me how you know the word saliel. It’s been driving me crazy.”
“No deal. Zeion first.”
Aoden sighed. “Alright, alright, fine, let’s do this. Why do you want to know about him, anyway? And why from me? Everyone here must know Zeion as least as well as I do.”
“Because everyone talks about him like a legend,” she said. “The stories are far-fetched and ridiculous. It’s gotten to the point where I can’t rely on the truth from anyone. I thought an outsider might know better.”
Aoden remained silent, making it clear that he didn’t consider her answer good enough. His look said, ‘who’s lying now?’.
“Okay, fine. I want to know about him because my mother is obsessed with his memory,” she said with a mix of irritation and embarrassment. “You saw how she treats his hammer and how she reacted to your wanting it. I’m surprised she didn’t order you killed right there and then. He’s talked about with such reverence that it’s like he’s a god. I want to know why.”
“Well, that’s curious,” Aoden said. “He was a well-renowned hero, no doubt, but that seems excessive. I don’t know what to tell you, though.”
“All those stories can’t be true. They say he slew a hundred men in a single battle, or that he once held off an army of orcs by himself, or that he once killed a dragon single-handedly.”
“Twice, actually.”
“What?” Her face showed a spark of interest.
“I’ve heard that story as well. He killed two blue dragons that had roosted in Mt. Dulagi—separately, of course. I hadn’t heard the other two stories, but they seem plausible.”
The girl frowned. “Don’t be ridiculous. No single human could do such things. Those would take armies to accomplish.”
“You’re right, they would. But you know that Lord Zeion was the chosen warrior of Annowyn, right?” The girl nodded. “You must not understand what that means, then. He was given Senmozar, his famous hammer, by the goddess herself.”
“That’s as unbelievable as the other stories about him.”
“From what I’d heard,” Aoden said, thinking back, “when Zeion was a young paladin, before he became Lady Mira’s personal defender or had any fame to speak of, he was clearing out some ancient cave complex in Nuutson—apparently some peasants complained of horrifying noises emitting from the caves at night or some such. Anyway, Zeion spent days traversing the complex without finding a single creature. According to Zeion himself, he was lost and exhausted when he stumbled across an underground lake. Dipping in his hands to drink from these waters, he was overcome by drowsiness and collapsed. During his slumber, images of great battles and graphic slaughters assaulted his mind, in the midst of which was himself, crushing his faceless foes with a mighty hammer that glowed with the power of the gods.
“He awoke several days later just outside the cave, the hammer lying on his chest. He knew it to be called Senmozar and took it as his own. It would only be a few months afterward that the story of him slaying a blue dragon began to spread.”
“And you believe that story?”
Aoden shrugged. “Admittedly, he was the only one present when he received the hammer, meaning he must have spread the story himself, but there was little doubt the hammer was an incredibly powerful artifact. I never met Zeion myself, but I did see a battlefield that he’d fought on some days afterward. One would think that a dragon had been there: trees were demolished, the earth was torn up and churned about, great gashes were carved into the faces of rocks; had I not seen it myself, I’d probably doubt the story as well. It doesn't make his story true, but it makes it more plausible.”
Madeleine’s mouth opened slightly, the first sign of wonder she had shown. “Then he actually could fight a dragon?”
“Possible. All I know is that one day people were complaining about a blue dragon and its mate wreaking havoc on the heart of the land, and the next Zeion was being lauded for slaying them.”
“He slew them both the same day?”
“Well, no, not literally one day to the next. He actually slew them months apart from one another, but that doesn’t make it any less impressive.”
Her face was full of wonder now. For a moment, it was even possible for Aoden to recall that she was still a child. Then the wonder vanished, and her face was stark once more.
“Then how did mother’s kingdom fall? If he was able to fight an army of orcs by himself, how could they have overrun her cities?”
Aoden sighed. “I don’t know. He couldn’t be everywhere at onc
e, but if the legends were true, Azurcourt at least should have held strong. I was in the elven military for the vast majority of his career, but I had received letters from friends filled with gossip from the kingdoms, including tidbits about Zeion and his exploits. In the years leading up to the Fury, more than one mentioned rumors that the power of Senmozar had been waning for years. That, or he was losing his goddess’s favor. I don’t know where the rumors originated, but if his goddess let him die in battle, perhaps it was true after all.” Letting his face grow grim, he added, “And to elves, apparently.”
“You sound like you respected him.”
Aoden nodded. “He was an admirable man. He dedicated his life to protecting people and killing vicious monsters. As a proper paladin should, he demanded no reward, pleasing his goddess being reward enough.”
Maddy sat back on her bench and thought on this for a while. “I thought mother’s stories were exaggerated.”
“I’m sure some are,” Aoden said. “I myself find I remember things as being better than they really were in retrospect.”
Madeleine looked unhappy, sliding back into thought. “This wasn’t what I was looking for,” she mumbled. She stood and walked past the cell towards the front curtain.
“Hey,” Aoden called after her. “You said you would tell me how you knew that word. Don’t tell me you’re reneging again.”
She looked over her shoulder. “I’ll tell you, but not now. I need you cooperative.” And then she was outside, her footsteps receding in the snow.
***
The novelty of the captured elf had worn off.
He had lost count of the days, but perhaps a month had passed since he had been thrown in this cell. The discussion of what to do with him was still raging. Gale, perpetually in crinkled clothing and high spirits, had spoken to him over the course of several visits, trying to get his side of the story. Not that there was much to tell, or much he was willing to tell; he didn’t know why Reggy couldn’t talk about the humans in these woods or why the lizardfolk hid their presence, but he was not about to tell the humans that he had been sent there by the lizardfolk. The story he stuck to was that he was allowed passage in the lizardfolk lands and was passing through to the south, having no intention of bothering the humans, nor any plans for the hammer. He made it clear that, despite the children attacking him first, he had caused no harm. Additionally, he had been one hundred percent cooperative with everyone involved.
