by Greg Curtis
“There are tales being told. Stories of strange beasts being seen, strange people arriving and others vanishing. But we do not listen to the tales.”
Of course they didn't! Chy had to keep himself from laughing at the thought. The elves were above such things as wild stories! Or at least elves like her were. But there was one thing he still wanted to know.
“The sprites, are they too being dragged across the worlds?”
“Word of that has been spoken,” she replied. “Why?”
“Because it means that they have been caught in their own trap,” he answered her sadly. “They will have no answers for us.”
“Their own trap?” The Lady arched an eyebrow at him. “This is the sprites doing?”
“Yes.” Chy was surprised she didn't know that. There were a lot of elves with the gift. Surely they would have spread the word? But he kept his surprise to himself as he told her what Elodie had told him and the others.
“They are despicable creatures!” she commented when he was done. “Always seeking advantage at the expense of others. The Lady Myra surely despairs of them.”
“Surely,” he agreed, though he knew little of the elves' gods and goddesses. And of course there were four different worlds of elves, and each he would guess had their own gods and goddesses. And while he agreed with her about the sprites, he wasn't sure that the same thing couldn't be said about some elves. But he suspected that she wouldn't want to hear that. “And with luck the Great Beast will sup on their bones in time.”
The Lady didn't agree with that judging from her silence. But then she probably knew no more about the gods of his people than he knew of hers, and she likely didn't care. Still the sprites had enslaved his friends. They needed to suffer whether she agreed or not. And he was happy to walk in silence for a while.
In time he got to walk alone. The Lady Lialle De Clara of the Clara Legacy made an excuse after she realised that he wasn't going to tell her anything more useful, and decided to leave him along with her party.
But he was fine with that too. She was too arrogant and cold for his liking. And far too dour. The mammoths were better company. In any case he was happy just doing what he was doing. After all he was using his gift to help the people of his home town instead of simply hiding it away. That was a pleasant change. And there had been no blood shed. No strife.
Several hours later he was happier still when he was able to leave the mammoths in the slightly marshy willow forest surrounding the lake. It seemed that the beasts actually enjoyed the willows – and that he thought was useful. The reason no one lived out by Lake Bosun was that the damned willows grew with surprising speed and undermined any structures people built. Their roots went everywhere. And the ground was a bit soft. They really needed to drain the lake.
But if the mammoths ate the willows, he thought, the land might become better for farming and housing in time. And even if it didn't, the chances were that they'd find plenty of places to wallow.
Maybe this crisis didn't have to be a total disaster – unless of course the world did end.
But that was before he finally returned to his home to find that the goats had got into his new bushes and were munching away contentedly, while the damned cat had been in the chicken coop, helping herself to the eggs. She looked very pleased with herself, except when he got too close and she hissed at him. Then she just looked angry. The chickens for their part didn't look happy at all. In fact they were clucking like crazy and they might stop laying for a while. Meanwhile he had a coop to repair to make sure the cat couldn't get in again.
“Damn it flea bag, aren't you fat enough already?!” he growled at the little monster, and earned an evil looking stare in return, before she returned to licking her claws and no doubt dreaming of sticking them in him.
But at least she hadn't harmed the chickens he supposed. But they were probably too big for her – and she was too lazy! Chy let out a heavy breath. It seemed that even now, when there was no restriction on using his magic, when everyone knew what he was, he still couldn't magically make his life perfect.
Chapter Eighteen
Her head ached. Her body burned. And all Elodie could think as she sat out on the roof terrace was that she hadn't done enough.
The Heartfire was now out there in the shadow worlds. And so were the thrones. They would allow the various casters among them to battle whatever threats the primordial chaos would bring to them as it undid the very fabric of everything. They were bringing a little order to the fury of the Heartfire as it seeped through the shadow worlds. She had heard and seen through the summoning portal that the skies were less wild and the lands shook a little less. And maybe too, just the very presence of the thrones in those worlds would battle the primordial darkness, and slow it down. But that she couldn't be certain of. Nor could she guess how long they had.
But for the moment it was difficult to concentrate on anything but the pain – and the huge wall of black fire five hundred paces away. A wall that stretched from the ground around the volcano to the stars above. She hated looking at it. Seeing the doom so near. And she hated the way that towering wall drank all the light of the sun. When the sun was high in the sky, things were tolerable if frightening. But when the sun sank too low and disappeared behind the darkness, a feeling of utter hopelessness overcame her.
This was the future. No light. No life. Nothing. A return to the void. It was something so horrible that she could barely even stand to think about it. And her head still throbbed, even days after having cast the magic that had released the thrones to the shadow worlds.
It wasn't enough. She knew that. But she didn't know what would be enough.
“So you've made a mess girl!”
Elodie jumped as she heard a woman address her. And even as she was falling back down into her chair, she knew that that wasn't possible. There was no one here to speak to her. She was alone. Completely alone. And when she finally collected enough of her wits to turn around, she could see no one there.
“And now we have to fix your mistake,” another voice added.
“Who's there?!” She called out, her heart beating too fast. “Where are you?! And how are you there?!”
“You would question us?” the first voice – a woman – replied. “Have you no shame?!”
“I don't know who you are,” Elodie pointed out. “So how can I know whether its right or wrong to question you?”
“Damn! The tongue and the thoughts of a law talker! How these mortals have fallen!”
A man appeared in front of Elodie. An elf in the prime of his life, with the power radiating from him of something that was anything but mortal. But then she knew immediately she saw him that he was no mortal. He was no elf either. He was just presenting himself in that form. But whatever he actually was, it wasn't that.
“But did they ever rise?”
A woman appeared beside him, and she too was of Elodie's people. At least that was what she appeared to be. But she was no more an elf or a mortal than her companion. But one thing was obvious to her. If they were here, inside the Temple and criticising her for her failures, they had to be connected to the Temple somehow. Because they couldn't have come through the primordial fire. Not even if they were gods. At least as far as she could tell.
“Whoever you are, know that I am a guardian of this Temple. And I have done all in my power to protect the Heartfire. If it is not enough, I am sorry for that. But I am alone and there has been no one to guide me. And yes, if you can fix what the sprites have done, I would want that. Because I cannot.”
“At least this one knows her limitations.” The woman pursed her lips as if considering something. “But you have released the Heartfire?”
“What else could I do?” Elodie asked her. “The primordial darkness completely surrounds the Temple. None of those who would normally come to receive the blessing of the Heartfire can do that. The worlds beyond this one are falling into chaos. The barriers between them are breaking down. And ev
en the endless forest is being consumed by it. My only hope was that the Heartfire released to the other worlds would battle the darkness and empower those with the gift to help fight the disasters unfolding in their realms. I hoped it would at least slow the end long enough for a solution to be found. I know of nothing else that can fight it. And if we do not stop it there will be nothing but void remaining.”
“But you released the Heartfire?” The woman repeated.
“Yes. If that was wrong I regret it.” She guessed there was no avoiding the fact of what she'd done. And she still didn't know who these two were. Or even if she'd done wrong.
“She speaks the truth,” another voice announced, and then another man appeared. Another perfect elf male. “At least as she understands things. But she is so limited.”
“Tell me of these sprites,” a second woman ordered her. “What are they?”
“They –.” That was as far as she got before she was unexpectedly lifted out of her chair to face the quartet of perfect elves. Except that there weren't four of them any more. There were more. And then she forgot about all of that as she could do nothing other than remember what she had seen through the port hole on the day that they had attacked. They were making her remember what had happened so that they could see what she had seen.
She could feel them in her thoughts. Intruders. Alien beings. Studying her. Dissecting her like scientists did to mice. Prying into every nook and cranny. Learning things about her that she had never wanted anyone to know. Exposing her innermost thoughts and feelings.
It was shocking. A violation of her very being. She was being stripped naked and then displayed for all to see. Discussed coldly as though she was nothing more than a piece of meat. But there was nothing she could do about it. She struggled against it. Trying to hide her deepest secrets. The ones that she didn't even tell herself. The things that were too shameful to even acknowledge.
But maybe she suddenly thought as more memories started being played in her mind, she shouldn't want to. Not if these people – assuming they were people – were here to help. Maybe she should give in. Except that she'd rather be dead than be exposed like this.
In the end she did her best to simply give in to them. To let them do as they would. Even if it was the rape of her very soul. Because it was all she could do.
At least they were quick. Examining everything of her memories in a matter of mere minutes. But by the end she felt sick. Wronged on every level. Ravished against her will in ways she couldn't even describe. And when they were done it took all she had just to lie there on the ground quietly. To not scream her outrage at them. But instinctively she found herself curling up into a foetal position and rocking. Shaking uncontrollably. Tears rolling down her cheeks. Wanting to scream and shout. Just to cry.
“Now where did they learn that?” One of the perfect people asked out loud.
“Indeed,” a woman answered him. “Who could have shown them such a thing?”
They continued like that for what seemed like ages, asking and answering vague questions that had no real context, while Elodie lay there on the cold stone, rocking and crying quietly. Hating them, fearing them, but mostly knowing complete helplessness. She couldn't run from them. She couldn't hide. Begging wouldn't help. And she certainly couldn't fight them.
Eventually they went away. She didn't know where they went. She hadn't even seen them leave. But it didn't matter. They had done everything they wanted to. Learned everything. Judged her every thought. Weighed and measured her every desire. Left her with nothing. No secrets. No privacy. Not even a hope of a comforting lie she could tell herself. She had nothing left except the cold stone floor she was lying on.
But then she didn't even have that!
She was lying on dirt and grass. There were goats grazing nearby. And a man was swearing in surprise. A moment later he was with her, his hand on her shoulder, asking her if she was alright.
Elodie didn't answer him. She couldn't. She couldn't do anything more than lie there and cry. And it didn't even matter to her when the man picked her up and carried her inside to a couch where he set her down and covered her with a blanket. When he put a cushion under her head and told her to rest. Because all she could think about was what they had done to her.
And as she finally began to slip away into darkness all she could think was that she still didn't know who or what they were. But she hated them. Almost as much as she feared them.
Chapter Nineteen
How long had he been wandering the worlds? Fylarne didn't know. He tried to count back the days as he sat by the fire which his tea was cooking on, but he couldn't. It was just too many days, and too many times he'd gone through a portal and ended up on another world and at another time of day or night. He'd lost track.
The portals weren't working as they should. At least not the one at the entrance to the road. Maybe it was something to do with the barrier of void that had surrounded the grand portal on the terrace. They were all linked somehow. Whatever the reason, it had spat him out, but not where he'd wanted to go. And after that he hadn't been able to get back on it to try again.
Ever since then he'd been wandering. Hunting for portals – thankfully there were plenty around – though they didn't seem to work properly either. Often they didn't work and when they did, he could end up anywhere. Maybe it was something to do with the changes that were happening to the worlds. Maybe it was simply that his gift with dimension wasn't very advanced.
So he wandered. He crossed worlds, often at random. And when he arrived he never knew where he was or what time it was. He just slept when it was dark and ate when he was hungry. And mostly he tried to make sense of what simply didn't make any sense. When he wasn't busy feeling sorry for himself.
But what else was there to do? The worlds were ending. The Temple was gone. His friends were dead. And his family was likely the same. And it was all his fault. Somehow.
He still didn't know what the sprites had done. What enchantment they'd miss-cast. Or how it had gone so badly wrong. But he'd travelled to the Temple with his thoughts after he'd received Elodie's sending, and he'd seen everything she'd said. No Temple. No volcano. Just a wall of nothingness reaching up to the stars. He couldn't get to the Temple. Nothing could.
After that he'd wandered. And he'd seen the worlds slowly falling apart. People and creatures appearing and vanishing. Pieces of other worlds turning up in the wrong places too.
There was no hope. He knew that. Though he tried not to think about it as he used a stick to turn the rabbit he'd caught on its spit. Whatever the sprites had done, it was complete. And they could do nothing about it. The clearest sign of that was that he'd heard that some of them were wandering the worlds along with everyone else. Lost and frightened. Helpless. Trying to get home.
He should have killed them! Hunted them down and slaughtered them! For a while that had been his only desire. But what good would that do? It wouldn't save his family. It wouldn't help him find them in N'Diel. And it wouldn't bring the worlds back into order. And they were dying anyway. They too would become a part of the primal void. They too would become nothing no matter what he did. He had at least destroyed them. But that was little comfort in the darkness.
Sounds intruded on his self pity. He suspected that that was a good thing. Even if he suspected it was the locals. Dwarves from the Obsidian Reach Clanhold. The portal had deposited him not far from the stone city. Fylarne wondered what they were doing out at this hour. Most of their people should be either tucked up in their homes or the alehouses. But he didn't fear them. He could control a dwarf or two. They were a stubborn people but he had enough magic for that.
“Who's there?” he called out when the sounds became louder.
“Just wanderers,” a gruff voice called back, answering in the same ancient tongue Fylarne had used. “We would share your fire if we may.”
“You may,” he replied. And why would he refuse? He had nothing. By the sounds of things they didn't ha
ve a lot either. And maybe there would be some good to come out of company. But when he saw the first of the people arrive, he had second thoughts.
“You're not a dwarf!” He shot out at the human lad in surprise. “And there's a dragon around your neck!” In fact it was one of the miniature dragons that the ogres of Prima seemed to keep as pets. More proof perhaps, that all the worlds were descending into chaos. Even Prima. The end was upon them all if Elodie was right. And he couldn't imagine that she was wrong. Not about this.
“No. I'm human,” the boy replied nervously. But before he could say any more the next of his companions emerged into the firelight, a dryad. And he was followed by a sylph.
“By the grace of the Ladies!” Fylarne mumbled under his breath.
He was shocked. This was dwarven land. Yet here he was being approached by a human, a dryad and a sylph. And he himself was Darisen. The world – all of the worlds – weren't making sense any more.
