by C D Beaudin
I’m…not…going to…die! She gasps as her throat clears. She can hear again, but her eyesight is still gone. She’s never been more thankful to be conscious.
There’s a moment of just footsteps. Her head feels fuzzy and her eyes grow heavy. What’s happening to me? She’s trapped in a shell of herself, like she’s coated in Awyn, but the real human is inside.
And she realizes that nothing she does or says will be audible or visible to Kaniel or Aradon.
Suddenly she feels liquid pour into her mouth, and the tickle as it washes down her throat, soothing and cool. Kaniel sighs in relief. “This should slow down the changing process, but only by a few days. We have to hurry.”
“Kaniel, what’s happening to me?” she asks, but no words come out. She’s trapped. She’s lifted again and taken outside, unable to comprehend what’s happening.
“The Everbreed. Do my eyes deceive me?” Aradon says breathlessly. “Said to be the horses of the spirits, used in the War of Ardon in the First Age. Creatures of light.”
“They are beautiful, are they not? Angelic,” Kaniel says as he carries her, the soft nickering of horses nearby. Did Aradon just say “Everbreed”? She feels Kaniel putting her atop the horse. The heat is there but it’s not warming her. “They will take us to the Kawa.”
Kaniel mounts the horse, and Aradon lets out a short, painful groan as he must do the same. Kaniel gave him a draft that should help with the pain, but it won’t work right away. It amazes Awyn he can even walk in the state he’s in.
But that’s the least of her worries at the moment.
“Onward?” Aradon asks, but the worry doesn’t pass by Awyn.
“With Godspeed.”
They urge the horses on, through the forest of darkness.
Awyn feels her soul wrenching from her body. She can no longer hear, and what she can feel is fading, only a terrible sense of loss as her soul escapes her.
Revera watches them move through the Dark Woods. The orb reveals Awyn, locked in darkness, turning to shadow. Her lips form a smile as she sees the ice-cold princess.
“And upon this day, a kingdom will fall, the last heir turning to shadow.” She pauses a moment. “Where she belongs.”
Revera walks around the short, black stone pillar, the orb sitting on a bed of black silk. Behind her, Calzack hobbles toward the orb, looking fascinated by the image in the sphere. With his hunched back, and short figure, it’s hard for him to see, but he cranes his neck to catch a glimpse at the horses Revera sees.
“The Eye of Aiocille reveals many things.” Revera’s eyes look into Calzack’s brown ones, a small smile on her face. “The present of another becomes clear to one’s mind, even the future can be shown, but only to the wisest.”
“What are you seeing now, My Lady?”
“The downfall of a once great house.” She walks over to her bed, covered with furs and silks. The black room around her is chilled with the cold of her heart, as the Tower of Nethess is the pinnacle of her darkness, said to be the very source of despair. Her bed, resting in front of a great balcony, looks over the Desert of Asgoreth, a barren land, once filled with bustling cities and towns. Even Nethess was once a shining capital city. Now, the rivers have dried up, and Totowa rests miles away, but still in the view of the tower.
When Revera closes her eyes, she can hear the hiss of the snakes that lie in the valley at Totowa. Walking over to the balcony, with her elf eyes, she can see Radian, and now of her own creation, the Dark Woods. She smiles, baring her teeth, and she looks up to the sky, closing her eyes as she feels the breeze against her cold face.
The Kawa has many legends, and each of them tell different futures.
A great kingdom shall fall,
At the hands of the greatest sorceress alive.
Those who follow her will live,
And those who resist will perish.
It seems the one of Revera is coming true. But she watches them ride furiously through the Dark Woods, the horses thundering through the trees, the exit in front of them. The sky darkens with every passing second, and the princess is turning to shadow along with the sky above.
“Will she make it?” the injured man asks, looking at the limp girl in the Delcah’s arms. Looking forward, the Delcah answers his question, his expression seeming to answer it without him saying anything.
“What will happen to Mortal?”
“We must not worry about that now. Let’s focus on getting her to the Kawa.” The Delcah looks over at the other, galloping alongside him. “All we can do is hope that she has enough strength to fight the darkness.”
Revera’s brow lifts, triumphantly. Fools.
Inside her new cell—a white abyss—Awyn sees a woman dressed in white, shining brighter than the sun. Her hair flows behind her, and her fair skin sparkles like the Lake of Kings, a crown of white leaves sitting on her head.
“Are you Sericia?” Awyn’s voice is like the wind, soft and wispy. “The Spirit of Light? Creator of the elves?”
“I am Raea. A descendant of the light.” Her voice seems to come from the earth itself, but soft like the sky. Now Awyn sees her pointed ears.
“Are you an elf?”
“I am a daughter of the Elven Majesty.”
Awyn watches Raea’s face shift to concern, and she looks down at her white dress, already the shadows are starting to envelop her. She looks at the elf, fear pounding through her heart. “What’s happening to me?”
“You’re turning into a creature of dark. The Dalorin.”
“Can you help me?”
Raea nods, her white eyes shining, the white abyss around them seeming to envelop her, and out of Awyn’s mouth the shadow retreats, scared off by the light.
She feels limp for a moment, but her heart is no longer pierced. Or her soul torn. Awyn looks at Raea. “Will I see you again?”
Raea smiles. “Sooner than you think.” She disappears, and a wind sweeps Awyn up, rolling around her, then a sleep sensation fills her, and asleep she falls.
Chapter Four
Kera looks out on the city from her balcony. Her wild, black curly hair whipping in the wind, her hazelnut colored hands grasping the wooden railing of the Great Hall, as she looks onto her people below. There are children playing games, and women weaving, and husking corn. The men carry their recent kill or fish with their young ones as boats with traders and fishermen ride along the river in the valley.
The Great Hall. Where the leaders of the Kawa have lived for centuries. The wooden building sits on a mountain, the stairs stretching to the valley below. From the balcony, one can see as far as the Eastern Fields on the other side of the valley.
Kera’s yellow, silk nightdress flows behind her as she turns into her room, sitting on her soft bed, looking at the sleeping Kepp. His long eyelashes touch his cheek as he sleeps lightly between the sheets. “It’s a beautiful day. We should get up.” Kera’s soft voice prods.
Kepp grumbles, rolling over. “Don’t make me,” he tiredly groans.
“Come on, we have to,” she says with a smile, softly rubbing his upper arm.
“No!” He playfully grabs Kera’s arm, pulling her in for a kiss, her squealing. She runs her henna covered hand through his tousled, short brown hair, lightly touching his elf ears. She takes his fair face in her hands, kissing his lips.
“Let’s go.” She stands up, walking behind the brown straw divider, pulling off her nightdress to slip on a light blue skirt with a blue and gold top, her sun-designed henna on her stomach showing. Kera walks out from behind the divider, prancing over to Kepp, who’s still in bed, and kisses his cheek. “I’ll be outside when you choose to get up.”
She runs through the hall, past servants who carry piles of cloth and baskets of food. Guards are posted at each door, backs as straight as the walls they stand by. Her feet lightly thud against the timber floor. The wooden room and high ceilings are illuminated with the warm light washing in through the large windows.
Outside,
she bounds down the steps, feeling the sun on her skin, and the touch of the dirt on her bare feet. A young boy runs up to her, tugging on her skirt to gain her attention.
“Kera! Kera!”
She looks down, smiling at her young nephew, and picking him up, she ruffles his black hair.
“Hello, Rethu! What have you been doing? You’re all wet.” She flings the water from her hand, wiping it on her skirt. “Have you been in the river again?”
“Yes, and he knows it’s not allowed.” Keshu walks up to her, taking Rethu from her arms. “You shouldn’t have been in there without an adult. I’m sorry, sister.” As he says this, he looks behind her, and Kera turns to see Kepp coming down the stairs. Keshu’s face glowers as Kepp comes up beside her.
“Hello, Keshu! Beautiful day, isn’t it?” Kepp cheerfully asks, egging Keshu on, knowing fully the disdain Kera’s brother feels for him.
Keshu gives him a doubtful expression.
“Okay, then.” The elf clasps his hands together. “Any of you seen my brother around here?”
“He was out at the watchtower, last time I saw him,” Keshu answers, no doubt eager to get the elf away from his big sister.
“Okay, thanks.” Kepp pats Keshu’s broad shoulder as he walks past, going to see his brother.
“Why must you hate him so much?” Kera asks as Rethu runs off, chasing after a rabbit.
“Because you’re so naive, Kera. You may be the leader of a wise tribe, but that does not mean you are wise.”
“What’s wrong with Kepp?” Kera crosses her arms.
“His reputation, that’s what!”
“Reputation?”
“Kera, he has had many loves in his life. And has broken many hearts.”
Kera, crinkling her eyebrows, bites her lip.
“I don’t want to see you get hurt, big sister.” He puts his hand on her shoulder.
“He loves me. Okay? You cannot protect me forever.” She walks away from her brother, not wanting to listen to what he has to say.
Keshu sighs behind her.
Kepp comes to the top of the stairs on the mountain, spying his blond twin looking out onto the plains behind the mountains of the valley. The shelter here keeps a beacon, a large pile of wood, with an oil pan hanging above it. Two chairs and a table rest on the stony ground, made flat on top of the mountain.
“Boo!” Kepp yells behind his brother Eldowyn, who doesn’t even flinch at his attempt to scare him.
“Give up, Kepp. No one can sneak up on me.” His “better than thou” voice annoys Kepp, who is as nontraditional as elves get. He cut his hair, has a three-day growth of beard, and doesn’t know any of the traditional elf songs or chants. His brother on the other hand, has long, pure-blond hair, and is clean shaven, with elf eyesight and hearing. It has always puzzled Kepp how they are twins, and yet so different, even in looks. Mind you, his mother is a twin, and her sister is very different.
Their mother is an elf princess, and their father an elf lord, but Eldowyn is always the better son, while Kepp is just the younger brother no one talks about. His mother sure doesn’t. Not that she’s saying much of anything these days. They haven’t seen her in…eighteen years?
Kepp looks out onto the green fields of Nomarah. “Why are you up here?”
“I wanted to relieve the guards for a bit. And I’m glad I did.”
“Why is that?” Kepp asks.
Eldowyn points out on the fields. Kepp squints but can’t see what his brother sees.
Eldowyn hands him a spy glass. Putting it to his eye, two horses thunder down the plains, a dark figure in one of the men’s arms. But the horses catch his attention. It’s the marks on them. “Is that—”
“Yes, but there’s something more interesting than the Everbreed horses they ride.”
Kepp looks at him in confusion. “They’re riding spirit horses. Not to mention, one of the men is a Delcah, a creature who rarely travels from their homes,” Kepp argues.
Eldowyn turns to him. “They’re riding with a Dalorin victim.”
Kepp’s confusion turns to concern and shock as he looks back at the riders, seeing the dark figure as a poor victim of one of the evilest creatures in Mortal.
He follows his brother down the many mountain steps, running across the plains, through the fields of corn and other vegetables, then through the town to the river.
“Lower the bridge!” Eldowyn calls up to a guard on a wooden tower, and they watch as he lowers a section of the large wooden bridge.
They rush across to the elder’s hut on the other side of the river, and swing open the door, to a hut full of pots and books, with tribal heads painted purple, green, yellow, and brown. Jars of potions line the walls, and in the middle on a carpet, sits the elder Gwanawa.
Kepp and Eldowyn kneel on one knee, their heads bowed. “Great Elder Gwanawa. Visitors are coming from the east. They carry a Dalorin victim,” Eldowyn says, his voice neutral in respect.
The old man stands up, his purple robe falling behind him. “We must call the elf healer. Only he can save this poor soul.” He turns around, his wrinkled old face turning to the light as he looks under Kepp’s foot. “You’ve broken one of my amulets.” His face remains without expression.
Kepp looks under his foot, blue glass crunches under his brown boot. “Sorry.” He looks up awkwardly at the old, bald man.
“Never mind now. We must meet these visitors.” The three of them walk out of the hut, across the bridge, and toward the growing crowd at the entrance to the valley. The crowd separates for the elder, Kepp and Eldowyn following closely behind him. Kera runs up to them, standing beside the elder as the riders approach the city.
The two strangers gallop through the pass, their horses snorting and heads bobbing, as if they’ve been ridden for many days without rest. They trot up close to the crowd, looking down on the people. The man on the red horse catches Kepp’s attention, as he’s a dark figure with a black cloak pulled over his head, and clearly in pain by the way his body contorts. But it’s hard to see past the shadows the hood casts over his face.
“We wish to see Lord Eldorian,” the gray man demands loudly. When no sound comes from the staring crowd, the Delcah gets impatient. “Now!”
His commanding voice sends two guards dressed in red robes, to collect the Dalorin victim, and both men dismount. The hurt one collapses on the ground, his leg writhing with pain. He groans, and another guard rushes to his aid, which he dismisses, getting up and hobbling after his friend, who follows the guards to the waiting elder and leader of the Kawa.
“Kaniel, my old friend.” Gwanawa holds out his hand, and Kaniel takes it in his.
“Gwanawa, the princess needs help or she won’t make it.”
“The princess?” the elder repeats in confusion.
“The Princess of Mera.”
Gwanawa’s eyes widen for a few moments, then he hurries into action. He nods in respect as he passes Kera. “My Queen.”
The injured man passes with a nod as well, the man’s gait lethal and with his hood slung back, his hollow face. But Kepp senses some truth to the danger lying in the man’s eyes.
“My Lords, I will lead you to Lord Eldorian.” Eldowyn beckons them to follow him to the Great Hall, and as they climb the steps, the cloaked man eyes Eldowyn and his brother as they lead them.
“Kaniel, are they—”
“Yes, Aradon. The sons of the Elf Lord Rowan. They managed to escape Revera, but their father was killed.”
Aradon looks at the two brothers. “You’re princes of Radian. Where is your mother?”
“She disappeared,” Kaniel speaks for them as Aradon looks up at Kepp, who glances at him.
“Eighteen years ago. When Revera took over. She just...” Kepp looks off into the distance as they climb and the pain washes over him afresh. “Vanished.”
Turning forward again, he exchanges glances with his brother, who also has a solemn expression on his fair face, his blue eyes mirroring the sadness
he feels. Kepp steals another glance at the cloaked man.
So, his name is Aradon. He seems like someone to watch out for. A glint of a sword handle shows as Aradon walks, his cloak lifted over his arms.
In the Great Hall, Kera leads them to the healer’s quarters. “In here.” She gestures to a set of wooden doors, marked with blue paint in the shape of flowers, and the two guards holding the fallen princess burst through the doors. Lord Eldorian looks up from his scrolls at his desk. It takes a moment, but he stands up when he realizes what’s happened.
“Lay her on the bed.” He points, and they gently place her there. The girl’s hair sprawls across the white pillows, her eyelashes touching her fair cheeks. Even in a dark slumber, she looks beautiful.
Lord Eldorian walks beside her, stretching out his hand, letting it hover over her heart. He closes his eyes and shudders as though a strong sensation fills him, and pulls back his hand, opening his eyes. “She’s been touched by light.”
“What?” Kaniel stands on the other side of the bed, looking confused.
Eldorian motions to his apprentice, a young blonde girl with bright blue eyes, and she grabs a small vial. “She’s in a deep sleep, but she has been healed.”
Aradon and Kaniel look at each other.
Eldorian grabs the vial. “Thank you, Leah.” He pours a single drop of the blue liquid onto the sleeping girl’s forehead, and it seeps into her fair skin. He utters an old spell, and her eyes flutter as she breathes, moving slightly. “Let her sleep. She will wake shortly.” Eldorian and Leah walk over to his desk, where they resume their reading. Taking their cue, the group walks out into the hallway.
“What was that spell he spoke?” Kepp asks Eldowyn.
“If you had read any of our books after we had to flee Radian, you would still know.”
