by Jeff Gunzel
It was an act of kindness from a desperate man with nothing to lose. Assirra could only hope he and his family would find the safety they sought, but it didn’t seem likely.
Everywhere she traveled, the scene was pretty much the same. Humans, a race that had dominated the realm for so long now, were suddenly few and far apart. When she did see them, it was always the same story, entire families loaded up in wagons searching for the next safe house. Stories of hope, fueled only by rumors and speculation, were all they had to cling to.
But hope was enough to keep them moving. It had to be.
Entering yet another of these endless ghost towns, the sound of her clopping mule echoed off the abandoned buildings. It looked as though nearly everything of value had been cleared out by looters, but she planned to check a few buildings anyway. Maybe she might find a few jars of preserved vegetables, or better yet, a bottle or two of drinking water. That was one thing she was running dangerously low on.
“Hello?” Assirra called out. Calling out at every abandoned town had nearly become a ritual at this point. She no longer entertained the idea that anyone was still around, but she still felt obligated to check. There were no bodies as far as she could see. That was a good sign. Hopefully they got everyone out before the ghatins struck. From the carnage she had seen so far, few villages had been that lucky.
A flicker of movement from above caught her eye, but when she glanced up, nothing. She stared a moment at the second-level window, the cracks in the glass nearly invisible against the pitch black inside. Perhaps after traveling through all these abandoned towns, her mind was beginning to play tricks. She glanced one last time, then shook her head before moving on. This vacant town in particular was giving her chills.
As her mule lazily clopped along, she kept her eyes on the road ahead. But it was getting harder and harder to shake the feeling that she was being watched. She turned her head at the sound of a rock skipping down the street. Stopping, she peered into the darkness. That was not imagined, and no animal could have kicked a stone.
“Who’s there?” Assirra asked, her rasp of a voice cutting through the silence. It had been so long since she spoke to anyone, the sound of her own voice sounded strange. “Show yourself. Don’t be afraid, I am not here to hurt you.”
“What’s a tarrin doing out here all by herself?” Following the voice, she saw an older man peeking around the corner of the building just ahead. Clutching a rusty shovel, he raised it high, as if hinting that he wasn’t afraid to use it. He looked terrified, and she could only guess at the horrors he must have seen. “There is nothing for you here, tree lady. I think you best keep moving while you still can.”
“It’s alright,” she said, slowly sliding off the back of her mule. Open hands raised in front of her face, she began to cautiously step toward him. “I’m here to help if I can.” She glanced around. “How many of you are there?”
“Now why are you suddenly so curious about our numbers?”
She stopped moving. “I just want to know how many survivors there are. If any of you are hurt, perhaps I can do something for them.”
Growing bolder, the man stepped all the way out from his hiding place, planting the end of the shovel against the ground. He turned his head to spit before glaring back at her. “And how did you know where to find us? As far as I know, you tarrins are helping those monsters. I’ll bet you’re just trying to get a head count so they can come back and finish the job!”
Assirra lowered her hands and slumped her shoulders in defeat. There was no reasoning with this man. He was obviously too frightened to listen to reason, so to keep pushing was only going to make things worse.
“Very well then,” she said, backing away. “I will go, and for what it’s worth, I wish you good fortune. Dark days lie ahead for all of us.”
A series of clicks from above made her halt. She looked up to see faces peering down at her through the darkened windows. More humans lined the rooftops, most holding crude bows with arrows loosely notched. Others had crossbows with bolts already locked into place. The night air creaked as strings drew back, each arrow zeroed in on its target.
Assirra let out a deep breath. There was a time when a situation like this would have had her shaking with terror. But this time all she felt was a deep sadness. The humans had become so mistrustful of everything and everyone. Yet how could she blame them? She knew what it was like to feel helpless.
“I’m afraid it’s too late for that, tarrin. You already had your chance to leave in peace.”
“This proves it, I knew the tarrins were working with those creatures.”
“Kill her now, before she goes and brings back more of them!”
On and on it went with one accusation after another. Knowing there was little point in arguing, Assirra knew she had better get the upper hand before it was too late.
She reached out with her mind and seized the power of the dead. The act that used to take a bit of effort had become second nature to her now, and was nearly as easy as breathing. Ghostly white faces appeared and disappeared all around her, each one racing through a series of random expressions before being funneled away through some unseen portal.
The humans gasped, some even screamed at the ghostly display of supernatural power. This proved it beyond a doubt—surely this creature of black magic was working with the ghatins.
Pebbles and stones scattered around her feet began to quiver, making the ground seem to come alive like an army of ants on the move. Pulling free from the ground, they rose into the air and hovered for a moment, before beginning to spin around her like a tornado made of seashells.
Bow strings snapped and arrows took flight, each one cutting the air with a whistling hiss. Not all were on target. but it wouldn’t have mattered anyway. Pebbles zipped away from their otherwise constant circular path, each one intercepting an arrow with pinpoint precision. With the arrow heads being struck dead center, the shafts simply shattered apart as the metal heads flattened.
A second wave of crossbow bolts met the same fate, each one deflected in midair after being intercepted by a perfectly placed stone. Lost in the void of the dead’s energy, Assirra’s reflexes were heightened tenfold. The streaking projectiles may as well have been lightly tossed rugs. To her eyes, the targets were large and slow, even to the point where she felt compelled to wait before intercepting each one.
Her hope was that they would relent after realizing they were hopelessly outmatched. But the arrows kept coming, each one meeting the same fate as the one before it. Is it not bad enough these stubborn humans can’t tell friend from foe, and now they actually believe they can match a shadow mage?
“Enough!” she roared. The tornado of rocks burst apart, sending them streaking in all directions at once. Although it looked like a chaotic attack, each projectile was still being controlled. Bows and crossbows cracked and splintered right in the hands of their wielders. Swords and daggers went tumbling, yet through the mass disarming not a single human was hurt.
“I, nor any tarrin that I am aware of, are any friends to the ghatins! Blinded by your fear, you have all given in to your emotions and created an enemy where there was not one before. If I was here to finish you off, don’t you think I would have done it by now? We are on the same side. If you would just stop and listen to me—”
“You say you are no friend of the ghatins, yet they hunt us down while the tarrins go untouched!” She glanced up to see a man still clutching a piece of his shattered bow. “And you dare to tell us you were not sent by them?” Assirra bit her lower lip, knowing his words rang true enough. The ghatins were undoubtedly targeting the humans first, while all other races were being largely ignored...for now. But how could she explain such a thing to a group of terrified humans who were only seeing what they had convinced themselves was real? “Enough of your lies, tree witch!”
Unable to grasp the dead’s energy in time, she watched his hand dip inside his coat. Steel flashed, the dagger reflecting just e
nough light to make its presence known. Assirra braced, preparing to dive to one side or the other. But the dagger fell harmlessly from his hand as he clutched his chest. When he spun sideways, she saw the arrow shaft protruding from between his fingers just before he fell from the rooftop.
Assirra turned around to see a group of charging tarrins on horseback with their bows drawn. “No, stop!” she yelled, just as another arrow cut loose. Zipping past a human’s ear, it missed its mark but was enough to send the others running. “Don’t hurt them! They’re just frightened, that’s all.”
Like rodents, the humans seemed to just disappear right back into the buildings they came from. They had already seen what Assirra could do, and knew they were no match against this many tarrins.
“High Cleric!” one of them called as she came charging up on her horse. The others came trotting up from behind and filled in around her.
“Prestine?” Assirra said, her eyes moving from one tarrin to the next. Of course she knew every face here. “What are you all doing here?”
“High Cleric,” the tarrins said in uneven intervals, bowing their heads.
Prestine’s grin was nearly the width of her face. “At last we have found you!”
Chapter 3
“Stop that at once,” Assirra demanded, pacing back and forth while waving her hands. The idea that these tarrins could actually still be loyal to her after her lengthy and unexplained absence made her feel guilty and small. “Up, all of you, back on your feet!” Reluctantly, the kneeling tarrins stood up. Smacking her hand against her forehead, Assirra tipped her head back and closed her eyes. “What are you doing here?” she muttered, not asking anyone in particular.
“We...We’ve come to rescue you…” But the man’s voice began trailing off long before he finished. Clearly she was not in need of any rescue.
“I don’t understand,” Prestine admitted, clearly confused. “Did you escape from your captors? High Cleric, you are safe now. We are ready to take you back—”
“How did you find me?” Assirra pressed. With her initial shock now wearing off, she began to sound irritated. “And where did you get these horses?”
“Have you not noticed the broken world around you?” asked another man, his own mounting irritation matching her own. “Horses, livestock, abandoned crops and farms—the fleeing humans have left behind nearly all their possessions. Finding abandoned horses was not difficult. As far as tracking you, a lone tarrin still attracts a reasonable amount of attention, even in the current state of the realm. And you weren’t exactly hiding, according to those we asked. Many humans spotted you heading this way, not chained or bound, just riding a mule. So they claim, anyway.”
He spared a quick glance toward the others. Apparently they had been discussing this very topic at length. Looking back, his eyes narrowed for a moment. But his look softened after a second, and a deep sadness appeared to wash over him. “Is it true, High Cleric? Have you betrayed us like Yuznal said?”
“Yuznal?” she repeated as the sudden moment of clarity took hold. Of course Yuznal would tell them that. No doubt he had taken over as acting High Cleric in her absence. Long had he desired her position, always bidding his time while gently criticizing her every move for years. Subtle, understated, yet always a disappointed presence disguised as the typical grumblings of an old man. He always seemed harmless enough.
In hindsight, his hidden ambitions should have been more obvious to her. And now that he finally held her position, he would do anything to keep it, even deceive those around him into believing she was a traitor.
The problem was...this time he was actually right.
“Is it true?” the tarrin repeated, his words pulling her back into the moment.
Assirra glanced up, forcing herself to meet his eyes. She wanted to explain everything, to prove that it was not so simple as that. But her mind spun and her thoughts were garbled. Her knees felt weak and she began to sweat. All she could do was utter a single word...
“Yes.”
She waited, bracing for the inevitable backlash of hate. They were supposed to scream in anger, then threaten to drag her back to Eldham by her eyelashes. There she would be tried and hung, then hung yet again for good measure. Odao himself would come down from the skies and rip out her still-beating heart for all to see. Her body was to be burned and shredded, and everyone in the village would get a turn to cut a piece off from the traitor who dared to turn her back on their god.
But after enough time had passed, she nearly began to hope for it. Somehow, the judgmental silence and sorrowful expressions were worse than anything her mind could conjure up.
“Why?” Prestine finally asked, breaking the eerily calm silence. With her milky white eyes glistening, she blinked, unleashing a stream of tears that ran down both cheeks. “How could you betray us? How could you betray our god?”
“Because he betrayed me first!” Assirra screeched, fists clenched as she was suddenly forced to mentally relive that moment for the thousandth time. “Thatra is dead!” Strangely, there came a far bigger reaction to that news than her own admission of betrayal. She spoke right over their shocked gasps before her news could fully sink in.
“She died right in my arms, and yet I could do nothing to save her. I reached out to Odao, your god, whose power knows no boundaries. He could have saved her, but instead he decided to turn his back on two loyal servants. I shall remember that day for as long as I live. Her blood is on his hands, and I shall never let it go!”
“Do you believe it is wise to question Odao’s motives?” another woman asked. “If he did indeed allow her to pass on as you say, then doesn’t that mean it was part of his great plan?”
“Great plan?” Assirra hissed, all the uneasy tension in her body going up in smoke. Suddenly, this was no longer about suffering the humiliation of being judged by her people. It was about having to stand by while others willfully defended the indefensible. It was too much, and a stark reminder of why she had turned her back on Odao in the first place.
How had she ever preached such blind ignorance in the first place?
“And why don’t you tell me about this great plan, Kaha?” Assirra said, advancing toward her in a menacing fashion. “Where do you think you fit into this...plan?”
“Who-Who am I to question such things?” Kaha stuttered, backing away with her hands up defensively. Having never seen their High Cleric act like this, no one knew what to say or do. “My fate is in the hands of Odao.”
“Or perhaps it is in mine!” Now right on top of her, Assirra towered over the tarrin. Taking hold of her wrists, her hands moved up along her arms, stopping just short of her throat. “I am your High Cleric, am I not? And therefore I speak for Odao himself, or so you seem to think. So if I decide that your time has come, is that not to be questioned? Do you take your own life so lightly that you would turn it over to me without questioning my reasons? That is not loyalty or faith, that is blind ignorance of the highest level!”
Assirra’s hard glare softened as she noticed the terror in Kaha’s eyes for the first time. “And it is all my fault,” she whispered in a far softer tone.
Releasing her, she turned away. How could she blame them when this was all her fault? She not only created, but nurtured this sort of thinking. They believed in her, trusted her, and now after all these years of preaching the word of Odao, she had to tell them she was wrong the whole time?
How was she supposed to do that, and why should they believe her?
They followed me once before because I told them the truth as I saw it. Now is no different. Things have changed, my beliefs have changed, but in my heart I am still the woman they remember. I still love them as I always have. I never told them what they wanted to hear, only the truth as I saw it. I must do so again and trust that they will do the right thing.
“I do not dare ask for forgiveness for what I have done,” Assirra began, standing tall as she addressed them all at once. “But I ask that you listen to the t
ruth, and then decide for yourselves whether or not I am truly the traitor.
“Yes, I have turned my back on our ancient religion. This I do not deny. If you have come here to bring back your High Cleric, I am afraid you are too late. That woman is gone forever. But if you have come in search of your old friend who still loves you and always will, then she is standing right before you.”
Assirra reached out with her mind and seized the dead’s energy. It flooded into her body, filling her, feeding her, quenching a need she wasn’t even aware of until now. Her hair began to wave up and around as if gravity no longer existed. The power was sweet, yet burned her soul at the same time. She was so lost in the absorption that she nearly forgot about those standing around her.
Resisting the urge to run, the tarrins watched in awe as ghostly white faces flashed in and out of existence around her. Both horrible and beautiful all at once, the scene was mesmerizing beyond anything they had ever seen. Black magic it was for sure, and yet their curiosity won out over their fear. The very thing Assirra had always preached against was taking over her body right before their very eyes, and still she had not turned into some monster or demon. It was her, the same woman they had always known.
“I am a shadow mage,” Assirra said, her voice crisp and clear through the void of blinding energy. White spheres appeared above her head, rotating around like tiny suns. With only a thought, the spheres began to twist and pull, shifting through a variety of different shapes. Squares, triangles, and spirals of white light all circled overhead, morphing every second as she controlled them with ease.
“Look upon me with your own eyes, because I will not hide who I am. Each of you must search your own hearts and decide whether or not you can accept that Assirra the High Cleric is no more. I shall never be addressed by the title again. However...”
