by John Goode
“Trust me, the death Nystel has in mind is nothing compared to a dark elf death.”
Kor ignored the warning and asked, “But you do know where Stygian is, right?”
“Of course I do,” Ater snapped at him. Abruptly, he looked up the trunk of the nearest tree. “Stay here. I’m going to reconnoiter.” As silently as a great cat, he leapt to the lowest branch of the tree, and once certain of his path upward, disappeared from Kor’s view.
From the crown of the tree, Ater stared out over the lands below him, hoping to see the beginning of territory far beyond the lands of the elves. Expression much grimmer, he slipped down the tree a moment later. Kor glared at him, but he ignored the other elf’s temper.
“Did anyone ever teach you that when someone is lost and he starts to walk ‘out,’ most of the time he’ll walk in a circle and come back almost where he started? It isn’t a piece of lore.”
“What?” Kor sat down abruptly, stunned and weak-kneed.
“We’re within an hour of your house.” Ater did some pacing himself, although, in his case, each step was part of a recreation of the paths he knew from the elf lands to safety beyond their borders. And every single way out was too risky for the two of them. Kor might have spells on his side, but he was no experienced traveler, much less a trained assassin. And the nearest entry to Stygian lay…. Ater shook his head.
“Ater, you know I’m right,” Kor stated quietly, interrupting Ater’s thoughts.
“I know that we’re both going to be killed. That’s what I know,” the dark elf replied coldly. “I liked it better when you hated me enough to kill me right away.”
“If it helps, I still hate you.”
It didn’t.
“We need to move before they figure out what’s happened and we lose our lead on them,” Ater finally sighed. Kor nodded shortly and waited for him to take the lead. Ater walked as clean a line as possible, leaving virtually no sign he’d passed that way. He knew Kor didn’t possess the same skill but hoped he’d learn by watching. Kor followed behind him, instinctively taking the same path. At the edge of the clearing, they both turned to double back. Even to the trained eye, there was little to mark their passage.
The two elves walked for hours, neither one saying a word to the other as they pushed themselves to get farther and farther away from their pursuers. Once the sun began to set, they started to look for a safe place to rest for the night. Caves were out; the elves behind them would search those first. Even if there had been farms or a town nearby, Ater wouldn’t have taken the chance. He didn’t want to be boxed in, and the elves would show no mercy to anyone harboring fugitives. Briefly, Ater wondered if Kor understood just what he’d done to himself when he’d fled the elven home.
“We could always perch,” Kor suggested, referring the elven practice of sleeping high up on tree branches. Most elves learned the skill young in case they were caught outside their lands and found they were in need of safety.
Ater stared over at him. “Do you know how long it’s been since I have perched?”
Kor rolled his eyes as he moved toward the closest copse of trees. “Then you can strap yourself to me like you’re a child.” He produced an arrow and aimed it upward into the tree. “Montée,” he whispered and let the arrow go. A rope of light trailed behind the arrow as it slammed into a large branch. Kor pulled on the rope, turned back to Ater, and handed the end to him. “After you.”
Ater took the rope and looked up at the branch. All he could think of was how dead he would be if he fell out. It was ironic since he had gone to Evermore to die, but Kor was depending on him, which meant he didn’t have time to die right now. Left with no choice, he scaled up the trunk, the magic of the rope making him almost weightless. “Don’t let go of the rope once you’re up there,” Kor called up to him. “If no one is touching it, the spell assumes it’s done.”
Ater swung onto the branch and kept one hand on the rope as Kor scaled upward. Once the elf was secure, he let go of the rope, and it vanished. “We could have just climbed it,” Ater pointed out.
“Yes, and we could also leave markings as we climbed up the tree. This way, even if somehow they closed the gap, there is no evidence we’re up here,” Kor said, moving until his back was against the trunk. “Okay, come here so I can strap you in.”
Ater balked at the suggestion. “I’ll be fine.”
“Get over here,” Kor growled. “You’re out of practice, and if you fall out of this tree, we’re both caught.” When Ater didn’t move, Kor glared at him. “What is your problem?” Realizing his reluctance was more telling than his acceptance, Ater moved next to Kor and allowed the elf to strap their legs together. “See? This way if you begin to fall off, my weight will keep you steady.”
“I recall how perching works,” Ater snapped at him.
“Fine,” Kor said, confused. “I was just assuring you we are fine. Get some sleep. I’ll take the first watch.”
Ater let the matter drop and tried to get some rest, knowing it was going to be an extremely long day tomorrow. As always, the moment his thoughts slowed, his memories came to rest on Pullus. The image of his partner holding Ruber’s brother, the small grin that passed over his face… and then the hit. A bolt of fire that killed him instantly, the look of shock as Pullus simply ceased to exist. One second he was grinning, the next he was a burnt pile of meat.
Ater jerked awake as he called out.
Kor was staring at him. “Dear Koran, what is your problem?”
The dark elf cleared his thoughts as he tried to banish the image of Pullus from his mind. “Bad dream,” he remarked. “I’ll take watch. There is no way I am going to sleep after that.”
Kor looked like he was going to argue with him but then thought better of it. “Fine,” he said, closing his eyes.
Ater made sure not to look at the elf as he rested. His resemblance to his brother was unsettling. After about ten minutes of silence, Kor asked, “So what’s it like?”
They both knew he was asking about Stygian, the hidden city of the dark elves.
“Secluded,” Ater began to explain. “The founders modeled the city on the Under, carving out huge sections underground with only a few entrances to the surface.”
“How can you stand not to see the sun?” Kor asked softly. It was obvious he was drifting off.
Ater answered, “It’s easy when the sun hates your very existence.”
He waited for Kor to say something in response, but when he looked over, the elf was already asleep.
SEVERAL MORE people came rushing into the room, all intent on making sure Demain was safe.
Of course, when I say people, I mean things that walked and talked but were in no way people. The hatstand that had greeted us was now a loaf of bread that talked through the slice in his crust. “Sire, sire, are you okay?”
I tried not to wonder what the crumbs he was leaving behind meant.
“Oh dear, Pol, you’re perishable,” the bird commented.
Only then did it seem to occur to Pol that he was a loaf of bread. “No, oh please no. Your Highness, I beg for a better flip. Please.”
His voice was pure despair.
I could tell the queen was affected, but she hid it well as she looked to the goose and said, “Ocell, please take Pol somewhere colder so he will not rot as quickly.” To Pol she said, “I’m sorry, but you know the rules. If someone is willing to trade a flip with you, you’re free to take it, but I cannot play favorites. There are simply too many people in need.”
“I’m bread!” Pol screamed at her as Ocell tried to usher him out of the room. “I am in need.”
The two of them walked out and the crystal door closed behind them. There was an uncomfortable silence in the room afterward. So, of course, I was the one to say something.
“Okay, what the hell just happened?”
Demain examined her desk. The edges on either side were crystal, but the center was still wood. “The basic laws of reality are falling
apart,” she explained. “We call it Fluctuation, and it occurs when the fabric of the current reality wears itself out. No one can explain why, but when it happens, everything hit by the wave is changed into something else. People, places, anything is simply converted into something else. I assume it was your portal that caused this one. The fabric was just too thin to take an unplanned insertion.”
Milo began to wring his paws. “I am so sorry, mistress. I hadn’t thought the spell would….”
Demain waved off the rest of his apology. “It’s not your fault. If it wasn’t your portal, it would have been something else.”
“Why do you blame my mother for this?” Hawk asked. I could sense the incredulous nature of his question.
She looked over to him, and I could see a burning hatred in her eyes. I don’t think it was toward him per se, but with fairies in general. “Because when your mother planted the world tree on your world, it caused everything to be misaligned. The natural connection between realms was shattered, and this is the result.”
Hawk seemed unimpressed by her explanation. “Faerth has been the center of the Nine Realms forever. Why is this happening now?”
The queen gave him a double take, which would have been funny if it had been followed by a “What you talking about, Willis?” but in this case was not funny at all. “Forever? Is that what she told you?”
“I didn’t need to be told,” Hawk shouted back. “It is history that we have been the center of everything.”
Demain didn’t miss a beat as she screamed back, “She changed the history, you idiot. She has the ability to manipulate reality. Do you honestly think she would leave proof of her crime?”
I could feel the shock in Hawk’s mind, but his face didn’t show it at all. “You’re insane. The world tree has been in my family for generations.”
“Your mother destroyed the last world tree and planted a new one in your homeland almost a century ago. It only seems like thousands of years because of her spell.”
“Destroyed?” I asked confused. “Where was it?”
Demain looked at me, and I felt like she was boring a hole through me. “I’m sure you never heard of it because she severed the world from the rest of the realms, but the old world tree used to reside in a place called Earth.”
Ruber was the only one of us who could talk, and all he could say was “Oh my.”
THE ICE spear lodged itself into the lion’s mouth and was instantly shattered as its metallic jaws snapped shut. The sales voice began to speak again. “I see the Felineomatic has encountered a drastic temperature shift. Watch how the unit instantly adjusts its attack to compensate.”
The lion opened its mouth again and a small nozzle slid out.
“Get down,” Molly screamed.
Ferra hit the deck as a gout of blue flame came spraying out of the cat’s mouth. She could feel the heat from where she lay and knew it wasn’t a strike she could easily take. “As you can see, the standard model comes equipped with a bottled Promethean Flame Thrower. Extra tanks available for an additional cost.”
The giant knight stopped moving toward Caerus and dropped to a battle stance, its knees slightly crouched. “As you can see, the Goliathtron has identified its target and is now about to respond aggressively.”
The sapphire called out to Molly, “What does that mean?”
She didn’t have to wait long for the answer.
The knight’s blade became a blur as the construct’s arms began to swing in a series of intricate loops, making the area in front of it a field of death. Caerus could see the knight’s arms had pulled out of their sockets, allowing them to move freely in complete circles. She floated back as the swords began to extend outward, cutting off any chance of exit.
Molly watched as the missiles from the Siegealator launched toward her. She froze, not sure what to do. Her friends were about to die.
And then Molly went away.
A pair of red lenses slipped down over her eyes as she launched herself forward. She intercepted the first projectile and grabbed it by its shaft, making sure not to touch the trigger equipped in the warhead. The other weapons, sensing they had missed their target, slammed unexploded into the wall. There was a clicking sound from her waist as her torso lock released itself. The momentum of the missile spun her top half around. When she was facing the corner where the knight had backed Caerus into, she let it go.
The machine staggered forward as the Hellfire missile impacted it from behind. The unexpected movement threw off its balance, and its arms became entangled with each other. There was a deafening sound of grinding gears as the servo motors in both limbs burned out. If Molly was aware of her victory, she didn’t show it as she kept charging at the Siegealator as fast as she could. Two razor-sharp blades slid out from her wrists as the tank tried to reorient on her.
The lion was slowly moving back as it lowered its head, trying to get the jet of flame to hit Ferra. Taking a deep breath, Ferra formed a tower shield of ice in her hand and concentrated on it as she stood. The heat was incredible; it was like nothing she had experienced before, but it reminded her of the stories of He Who Shall Not Burn and the endless pits of fire that awaited sinners. As she took a step forward against the flame, she wondered if this was what it would be like when she finally died—an eternity of fire and screaming that could never make up for a life wasted in sin.
She ignored the thought and pressed forward another step.
Caerus used the momentary lull in the combat to take the offensive. She flew past the twisted arms that were slowly untangling from each other and darted into the open hole where they connected to the knight’s shoulders. Once inside, she began to fire bolts of energy at any mechanism she could see. The effect was instantaneous. The knight began to shake in place as if having a seizure, and smoke issued from its seams.
Molly had reached the Siegealator and swung both blades at the tank’s treads. The chain plating that surrounded the wheels parted as if made of paper. The machine listed to its left as it lost its footing and began to move in a slow circle. Once it was clear the machine could no longer move, Molly used the blades to pierce the side of the tank and climb up its side, making her way to the missile launchers on the top.
Ferra took her last step forward and jammed the shield into the lion’s mouth. The jaws tried to snap down automatically again, but this time Ferra was ready. She generated more and more ice, and the jaws slowly stopped closing. Then, inch by agonizing inch, they began to widen. The barbarian felt as if she were prying the machine open with her bare hands as the metal began to bend upward while the ice grew in mass.
“In the name of Logos, die!” she screamed as she forced everything into one last push.
The top of the lion’s head exploded upward as spikes of ice pierced the steel. The body shook for a few seconds as if it still wanted to fight, but it finally stopped moving and collapsed to the ground.
“Fire in the hole,” Molly called out from the top of the tank.
She had twisted one of the missile launchers around, facing the far wall. Caerus came flying out of the knight in time to see half a dozen Hellfires come streaming toward her. Not sure if she could withstand the impact, she ducked back into the shell of the knight, taking cover in its body. The entire building shook as the missiles tore into the salesroom wall, making a hole twice the size of any of the war machines they had just fought.
The tank continued to limp in a circle as the one functioning tread kept trying to move forward. Molly reached into the other missile launcher and adjusted something before she jumped off the vehicle, taking cover behind the lion’s body. Ferra was about to ask what she had done when the tank erupted as the Hellfires detonated in their launchers. No one talked for several seconds after as the chaos faded. Caerus floated out of the knight’s body slowly, making sure the coast was clear.
“Did we win?” the gemling asked hesitantly.
The red lenses slipped upward, and Molly came back.
; “What…,” she exclaimed, realizing she was somewhere completely different than she remembered. “Where…,” she began to ask before looking around. She found Ferra staring at her, an odd expression on the barbarian’s face. “How did I get here?”
Ferra looked at the companion skeptically. “You jumped here after destroying the tank.”
Molly stood and looked over at the charred remains of the tank. “I did?”
“You don’t remember?” Caerus asked sounding concerned.
Molly looked back at her companions. “I really don’t. I did that?”
“YOU LIE,” Hawk said, jumping out of his chair.
Demain rolled her eyes at him. “Yes, because I was the one who summoned you here, just so I could spin a tale maligning dear sweet Titania. Obviously I am far cleverer than even I knew, so what chance do you have, little prince?”
Hawk was pissed. His mind was ablaze with rage, and the only thing stopping him from swinging was the fact that she hadn’t raised a weapon against him. Normally I would have been busy trying to hold him back or trying to calm him down, but I was busy with something else. You see, in that quarter of a second when she told us what Titania had done, there was a flash of panic from Hawk. Not fear, not shock, but panic, like someone afraid of being caught doing something. I was trying to track that thread back, and the fact he was infuriated helped because he wasn’t actively blocking me.
“You knew,” I said after a few seconds. He stopped in midsentence and looked over at me. “You at least suspected, and you didn’t say anything?” I could feel the doors in his mind slamming shut, but it was too late; he knew I had the truth. “Why wouldn’t you tell me?”
His face went from anger to pleading to sadness as quickly as it takes to describe it. I could feel the wash of conflicting emotions stirring in him, and that was answer enough for me. “I am here risking my life to help your family, and it turns out the people I am fighting for stole the most important thing in the universe from my people?” I looked up at Ruber. “Is this why we don’t have magic? Did we have it at some point, and the fairies took it?”
