by D. H. Aire
The column slipped back into the ground, then abruptly surrounded Thomi with a crack of thunder. His clothes smoldered beneath Niota’s glowing touch as Walsh gasped and ceased his chant, his arms aching from the strain. That was when the light instantly faded and Thomi collapsed, wearing clothing now marked with Niota’s ancient symbol.
Walsh had rushed to Thomi’s side. Only when assured by Thomi’s mother and Balfour both that the boy had come to no harm would he allow Balfour to heal his hands. The refugee in habitants came out of hiding and were looking about them in awe at the keep. The walls were shiny and new. Where fallen buildings had been, now stood ones whole and hale.
Se’and remembered the enchanted image of this place that Raslinn had conjured before them. Niota was more beautiful than that fancy.
George looked about him as the ogre rose, looking at his healed hands. He came before George and muttered, “Niota – fine – now... Walls – strong... We – can – beat – them – now.”
“Who?”
Walsh frowned and shook his head, then tapped his head, “Raslinn – boasted... They – come – to – in – invade, yes – that – the – word... Invade – not!”
Se’and met his gaze and muttered, “Fenn du Blain.”
Balfour shook his head, wondering if this place could really hold against the army that that madman had raised. An army that they had thought was aimed at bringing the city–states in the Crescent Lands under his tyrannical rule.
Se’and took George’s arm as he grimaced in a well-recognized agony. The
Summoning drew him now. It was time to leave this place. Niota would have to see to its own defense in the unlikely hands of a boy lord and a kindly grinning ogre, who doted on Thomi
as he struggled to sit up.
Come, the fading presence behind the Summoning demanded. Hasten to me!
Elemental
Chapter 2
Se’and had been angry; although, she knew she had no right to be. She tried not to take it out on her horse. The poor thing had been through far too much of late. They had fled the Crescent Lands before the advancing marauding soldiers of the Fenn du Blain’s Trelorian Regulars.
They had taken the old mountain road up the cliff face of the escarpment, which served as the northeastern border of the Empire, up to the ancient fastness of Niota… and which was another deadly trap.
She unconsciously grimaced. They’d survived the trap of Niota and… well… she’d received what she and every Cathartan woman like her sought most. Her family was now not just one in name only, her lord was finally acting like one – and she was jealous.
Hers were a Cursed of people, a nation of tens of thousands of women, but less than thirty men. With every passing generation there were fewer Households. Once there had been hundreds, but no longer.
In gratitude for saving her brother’s life, her father rewarded Je’orj and his elfblooded companion, Balfour, by making them Cathartan Lords by Bond… something only done in legend.
Je’orj had been particularly difficult about accepting the reality of the Bond, constantly reminding her that the rest of the world wasn’t suffering from the Curse, and sons were not a rarity. He also infuriated her by stating that being given bodyguard wives didn’t mean he or Balfour were married.
Whether he recognized it or not, they were Bound.
I’m such an idiot, she thought. I’d pushed the young and attractive Fri’il at Je’orj every chance I had, figuring Je’orj would begin to accept their reality – not just count on the Cathartans to defend him. The problem was Fri’il had become even more frustrated with his lack of attention than she had, and the goblin mage ensconced at Niota had used that against them. That had nearly seen the young woman killed and Je’orj, well… Je’orj had more than comforted the young woman.
That’s what I wanted, wasn’t it? But it felt like a dagger through her heart. When did I fall in love with Je’orj? He said he was “merely an archea––ologist” – apparently a fancy name for the human mages from his world.
“I know that look,” Me’oh said, urging her mount closer to Se’and’s. She was the oldest member of the Cathartan escort. She understood Se’and best. Having been Bonded to Balfour du Winome, who shared her love of healing, Me’oh found herself falling in love with the elfblood as she had not since…
Life had always held its surprises for Me’oh. She had married Se’and’s father, Sire Ryff, who had turned to her for her medicinal healing skills several years before, seeking to provide his son relief from the Curse’s agony. She’d lived Houseless for long enough in Catha. The marriage assured her young daughters security and a future.
Se’and glanced back at the blonde-haired black liveried Fri’il riding several lengths behind, close to Lord Je’orj. She half-whispered to herself, “By the Lords, does she have to be so young and beautiful?”
“Hide your feelings deep,” Me’oh warned. “They do you no credit, Se’and. Establishing a House is no easy thing.”
“Me’oh, how did you survive being Houseless for so long?”
“Long? My Sire gave me to that bastard who raped me when I was only fourteen. I made my choice. I walked out and chose to live free. That I made a life and had my daughter, Mahr, was not easy. But, Se’and, you don’t need a man to be fulfilled. Every woman in
Cathart knows that.”
“But, you did so much more – and you’ve raised not one, but two daughters.”
Me’oh shook her head, “And what did I go and do, but accept your father’s invitation to join his Household the first chance I got.”
“And father just gave you up. How… how can you forgive him that?”
She chuckled, “Se’and, there’s nothing to forgive. Being Bonded to Balfour is a reward. My knowledge of herbal healing with Balfour’s healing gifts make quite a combination… And he’s good in bed.”
Se’and frowned.
Me’oh nodded, “Which is your problem, isn’t it? Lord Je’orj has kept himself rather chaste until matters tipped in Fri’il’s favor.”
“I know I shouldn’t feel this way… He just makes me so damned mad sometimes.”
“Se’and,” Me’oh whispered, “have you really looked at him back there?”
“What are you talking about?”
“Se’and, Lord Je’orj is miserable.”
“What?”
“Yes, he slept with her, but it’s tearing him up inside…”
Se’and glanced back.
:George, would you like me to replay that conversation?:
“Shut up,” he muttered seemingly to himself.
Fri’il looked over at George, confused. “Milord?”
“Uh, just arguing with Staff…”
:An argument you’re losing,: it replied.
Me’oh looked at her long and hard, “Perhaps, Se’and, you would rather talk to Cle’or about this? At least she’s your half-sister.”
“Oh, no,” she replied, shaking her head. Cle’or was trained as a weapons master. Her battle–scarred sister would offer rather unsympathetic advice. She smiled at the older woman, “I would rather sheath my dagger in my own ribs, thank you.”
Grinning, Me’oh remarked, “Now that would really be leadership by example.”
The pale falc with a black crest soared above the small group as they rode northeast through the Imperial Province of Lyai.
Balfour knew the geography from the maps he had been taught over the years as a student at the Healer’s Hall in the Imperial Capital. In his time there, during his struggles to master the healing spells, Balfour had spent a great deal of time in the Hall’s library, which had extensive maps of the Empire and neighboring regions.
“Je’orj,” Balfour said. “Raven seems unconcerned.”
The staff in his hands abruptly glowed as he closed his eyes and mentally reached out. George touched the falc’s thoughts and murmured, “Any sign of pursuit?”
The falc squawked and sent in reply, ‘Clear all directi
ons, foster–father.’
He held out his staff, offering her a perch. She dove, then as she neared back–winged. She briefly alighted on the perch before shimmering and hopping over to his saddle. Completing her shape change, the small, petite girl settled into the saddle before him.
He reached back into his saddlebags and retrieved her livery and draped her into it. She sighed and rasped, “No like wear.”
“And you have such a pleasant voice, child,” he replied. “You should consider using it more often – like clothes, it grows more comfortable with use.”
Raven glanced at the chuckling Balfour and shook her head. Se’and had adopted Raven in Edous, one of the city states in the Crescent Lands to the east of the Empire, after they had broken the enchantment that had bound her. That they had accomplished it at all without wielding spells still astonished Balfour, who now served as the foreigner’s apprentice, learning the ways of long forgotten human lore.
Balfour had left his studies in the Capital in disgrace; unable to effect the healing mageries necessary to save lives. He had gone home to the distant Barrier Mountains, hoping to forget that pain – until he had met Je’orj, a man who claimed to be from another world and bore a staff of power like no other. In many ways, the computer staff was more his teacher than Je’orj, teaching him to truly use his human–born gifts to heal.
However, there was one area of knowledge he had excelled at during his studies in the Empire; he knew the Healer Hall’s texts better than anyone. He knew the theories about the reasons for illness and everything about the areas they most commonly occurred around the Empire and the neighboring lands. Thus, he knew much about the Empire and the province ahead of them.
The ancient barrows were an unlikely place for the Demonlord’s followers in the Empire to track them. One thing they desperately needed was a respite from their continuous mad flight.
Fri’il urged her mount beside Je’orj on the opposite side, then leaned over and half whispered that she would happily change places with girl. Raven smiled and instantly moved from mount to mount.
George almost choked in surprise as Fri’il laughed heartily. “Why, thank you, Raven!”
Balfour shook his head, wishing that his sensitive elvin hearing had not
been privy to the exact inflection of her offer. Je’orj hastily rode forward as
Fri’il and Raven laughed.
One thing that seemed odd to the elfblooded healer was that Staff, whom only he, Raven, and Je’orj were able to hear, didn’t take the opportunity to needle Je’orj as usual.
The Barrows
Chapter 3
The old barrows lay just ahead. “We had best stay clear of them, Je’orj,” Balfour advised.
The archeologist’s interest was piqued, “A burial mound?”
“It’s ancient,” Balfour said. “It’s said to date to a time that may even go back to before the Elf and Human War.”
George’s interest was plain to see. He raised his staff, which glowed as he went into deeper rapport with his computer, which was, in essence, an extension of his mind and vice versa.
Balfour shook his head, “I would advise against that. I guided us here because the wards are so good that the Demonlord’s servants fear coming within miles of the place.”
George half closed his eyes and had the staff run a scan. All he sensed was a series of rolling hills before them. There was no sense of anything out of the ordinary, but George Bradley was a keen observer and could see the signs that the barrows had been used in recent years.
:But I cannot verify that,: Staff asserted.
“You do not have to,” George muttered back, then looked at Balfour who nodded. “So, I guess my curiosity will miss out this ti…” he cried out as the now too familiar and utterly devastating agony of the Summoning’s enchantment struck him like a wave.
His horse shifted uneasily as George spurred it toward the Barrows. His staff flared, forcing the Summoning’s inexorable will back. Grunting as the brunt of the unexpected driving agony left him. George struggled to stay in the saddle.
Se’and spurred her mount to chase his and soon grabbed up his reins as behind them all the riders raced pell–mell after Je’orj. She shouted, “Whoa!”
The horse slowed as George slumped, fighting to stay both mounted and conscious. His staff was ablaze with light. Se’and carefully steadied him without coming in contact with the staff.
Balfour privately cursed. “It seems we are going to the Barrows, after all. Cle’or, is there any sign of pursuit?”
The woman turned her mount about suddenly uncertain, and moments later replied, “No, Milord.”
“Then why does the Summoning want us there?” he rasped as his friend took deep breaths and steadied him. “Perhaps,” George thought aloud, “it’s even more curious about something than I normally am.”
The elfblood saw he was not the only one disturbed by that idea. Se’and asked, “Balfour, is there any way clear of the enchantment protecting the Barrows?”
He shook his head, “There is only one way I have ever heard of people being permitted to enter – and that was as part of a funeral procession.”
“That would not be my first choice,” George responded with a shake of his head.
Se’and gestured, “After you, then.”
George nodded with a grim smile and led them closer.
The Summoning seemed to know a way, opened the way. A dirt trail appeared before them, which periodically vanished. “That way,” George rasped.
That earned him looks, but no one gainsaid him, so off they went.
Raven grew tired of being confused by its tricks and quickly threw off Fri’il’s hand––me––down old livery that she wore. Me’oh grabbed it before it could fall to the ground as Raven leapt to the ground and ran before their horses.
Her whole body shimmered as she changed and padded forward along the trail as a tawny-haired beast with a black mane. She could sense the trail more clearly, glancing back at her foster-father, who gave her a weary smile. She gave him a lupine smile back in return, then got back to business.
Suddenly they found themselves amid a labyrinth of barrows, somehow seemingly in the very heart of the place. “How?” Me’oh wondered aloud.
George leaned back, the Summoning suddenly stilled. “Uh, something is wrong… very wrong.”
A cold wind began to howl around them; the horses reared in panic. As the riders fought for control the temperature dropped below freezing. Thick snowflakes started to fall around them, then to deluge them.
Balfour cried out their only warning, “Ice Elemental! Run!”
Trap
Chapter 4
The elemental rose with a terrible roar. The wind battered them as the vaguely seen creature within a flurry of snow shambled toward them, seeking its target.
So long it had waited. It had no will of its own. Killing its target was all that mattered. Many had come here, but none were the one. But they were here, the dreaded ones liveried in ebony black.
It reached out to crush out the life of the nearest black liveried one, radiating an icy cold that would freeze its victim even as its grip shattered her life.
Raven had little time to reflect on the danger as the elemental reached out for Fri’il. She knocked Fri’il off the horse, which bolted, and dove off herself, shimmering with the change to beast form.
Yet, it was fast. A jagged hand of ice reached out of the swirling snow and brushed the horse’s flank. The poor mount screamed and fell kicking, mortally injured. Fri’il gaped as Raven’s furred form urged her to rise and flee.
Blasts of energy burst from Je’orj’s upraised staff. The elemental roared as its icy form melted. It staggered backward, trying to ascertain the source of its hurt. Then it saw the mounted man and one of the hated black liveried women defending him with her puny sword upraised.
The elemental roared a thunder of snow and frigid wind as it charged.
Balfour shouted, “Cle’
or, no!”
The woman urged her frightened mount headlong into meeting the creature’s attack.
George saw that she had somehow managed to light a torch and was trying to use it as a weapon. “Shield to widest dispersion!” he cried.
:Acknowledged.: The staff flared. Light rippled outward and just passed Cle’or before she would have come into contact with the elemental’s form.
She was rebuffed and knocked askew even as the creature made contact with the protective field. It blazed as it impacted the elemental, which howled in agony as its now dripping form melted.
In but moments, the snow pelting around it was reabsorbed, building back its lost mass. But that respite was long enough for Balfour and Me’oh to forcibly pull Cle’or back and retreat.
Se’and saw Je’orj stagger during the attack. “Milord? Are you all right?”
:George, that took full rapport… I estimate that you will lose consciousness after no more than three more such contacts.:
“Ye of little faith,” George muttered as he turned. “Split up! Give up the horses if you have to! But get out of here!”
“No!” Fri’il cried, even as Raven’s teeth clamped about her wrist and drew her away.
Balfour struggled to think about what to do, as he realized that with his healing abilities, dealing with an elemental was completely out of his ken. He met Me’oh’s gaze and knew that they would have to trust to Je’orj’s gifts and skills.
The creature of ice and snow impacted the shield once more.
Se’and caught George before he could fall. He gasped as the shield blazed with heat. The elemental shrieked in fury and agony.
:Redefining field parameters… The dispersion is taking too much energy to support, George. I am sorry, but we cannot maintain this without doing you permanent injury.:
