The Tears of Elios

by Crista McHugh

  “Come on, boy, let's head home.” As the dog pulled the sled through the snow, it occurred to Gregor that she might be angry that he saved her life after she told him not to. But he would deal with that when she woke up.

  CHAPTER 5

  Kira shivered and pulled her cloak close around her as the wind whipped over the plains. The clouds that had dusted the bleak landscape with a few inches of snow the night before were finally breaking up. She welcomed the sun after the last two days. “How much further, Master Tyrrus?”

  “I know it’s near here.” He leaned heavily on the sturdy branch he had converted into a walking stick. His eyes scanned the horizon, and she overheard him talking to himself. “I just have to remember the secret…” His voice trailed off, and the wind blew his scant hair into his eyes.

  She hoped the camp was close. They had been walking for the last three days, slaves to the elements. She was exhausted and cold. Her feet throbbed, and her belly growled. “What secret?”

  He appeared surprised she overheard him but regained his composure. “As a student of magic, you know things are not always what they seem. Magic can be used to hide what's right in front of you. Only those that have the eyes to see it can find it.” He scanned the horizon again before pointing his staff to the north. “I think we need to go that way.”

  She followed him down the hill into a valley that stretched out in front of them. A river snaked through the center of it and sparkled in the intermittent sunlight. “You're speaking in riddles again, Master Tyrrus.”

  “No, I'm not. Perhaps I haven't impressed upon you the mission of the Resistance. Naturally, the location of their main encampment shouldn’t be out in clear view for Anilayus to prance right in. It is well hidden, both by location and by protective spells. Finding the location of the camp is one obstacle. Seeing it is something entirely different.”

  They followed the river upstream to a point where it curved in the valley and disappeared from sight. The wind was milder here, softened by the high bluffs on either side. However, Kira couldn’t shake the uneasy chill that crept over her. The valley walls had eyes—eyes she couldn’t see but knew were watching their every step.

  They rounded the arch of the valley, which opened into a wide plain. “Ah, here we are,” Tyrrus said.

  Kira examined the plain. At first, it looked like green rolling hills, but as she stared longer, the air seemed to waver, distorting the landscape. She smelled smoke from campfires, but saw none. She strained to listen for any sounds, but an eerie silence filled the plain.

  “Now, what was that password?” Tyrrus muttered while tapping his shiny forehead. “Ah, yes! Operrus!” He took a step forward and disappeared from sight.

  She opened her eyes wider in disbelief, and she reached forward to the place where he once stood. The air brushed against her fingers like a heavy curtain, but she grasped nothing. “Master Tyrrus?”

  Kira drew in a long, shaky breath when he didn’t answer her. He’d mentioned something about a password and a spell that concealed things from view. Perhaps that spell was hiding him from her. She repeated the word she didn't recognize. “Operrus!”

  Her vision clouded, and her body felt like it was being hurled forward. She hit the ground and tasted dust in her mouth. She opened her eyes and saw the bottom of the familiar blue cloak in front of her.

  “It took you long enough, you silly child.” Master Tyrrus tried to sound cross as he helped her from the ground, but his eyes were filled with genuine concern.

  Kira brushed the dirt from her clothes before looking up. She saw the same valley they had come from, but when she turned around, she could not believe her eyes. Ahead of her, as far as she could see, sprawled a massive encampment. A sea of tents in various sizes and colors billowed in the breeze. Campfires clouded at the air with smoke, and the smell of roasting meats made her mouth water. A cacophony of voices sounded around her, some speaking languages she had never heard before. Then she noticed the members of the encampment.

  All of her life, she had heard tales of dwarves and elves, but she never dreamed she would encounter any. Yet before her eyes, the two races were interacting with humans as if there was nothing unnatural about it.

  The dwarves were short and stocky. Long thick beards concealed the roughened features on the men, but the women did not have that mask to hide behind. The men sat in circles, smoking pipes and talking in a guttural language. They paid little attention to the new strangers to the camp, although their wives watched in silence as they continued with the meal preparation.

  Then there were the elves. Tall and slender, they moved with a mesmerizing grace she had never seen any human possess. The pointed tips of their ears peeked from their hair, calling attention to their angled facial features. Unlike their dwarven allies, it seemed every pair of elvan eyes in the area took note of the new visitors and followed their every move. They spoke among themselves in hushed tones, their language soft and melodic with slightly lisping sound.

  But it was two humans that finally approached them. “Who are you, and what's your business here?”

  Tyrrus straightened his Master's robes and tried to appear taller. “I am Master Tyrrus of Dromore, and this is my apprentice. We have business with Galen.”

  Whether it was the mention of his own name or the mention of Galen, the men seem satisfied with Tyrrus’ reply and let them pass.

  “Come along, my child, and try not to stare so blatantly.”

  Kira pulled the hood of her cloak over her head and followed him as he hobbled through the camp. Her eyes darted from tent to tent. There was much more to this camp than she had imagined. On the surface, they appeared to be going about their normal activities, but underneath it were the subtle signs of a group on edge. They sharpened their weapons and tested their bowstrings in a compulsive manner.

  They approached a clearing in the center of camp. Just outside the opening of a large tent, several elves stood huddled in a group, engaged in a conversation in their own language. Master Tyrrus halted and held his arm out in front of her, indicating she should stay behind him. He waited for the elves to finish.

  One of the darker-haired elves noticed them and said something to the others, nodding in their direction as he spoke. The golden-haired elf he spoke to broke away from the discussion and turned to address them.

  Kira was glad for the concealment of her hood and sunk further into it. She had never seen anyone so, so… Beautiful was only way she could describe him. His long blonde hair shimmered in the sunlight, radiating its own glow. His eyes were bluer than the sky, set in a face more exquisite than any she had ever seen before. She studied the curve of his lips, the angle of his jaw, the way his lean muscles rippled under his clothes as he approached them, and her face grew warm. She lowered her head as he stopped in front of Tyrrus, feeling the flush spread to other parts of her body.

  “Master Tyrrus, what brings you here?” His voice was smooth and deep, full of authority but nonthreatening.

  “It seems our gate was finally discovered. Dromore is no longer safe for me, nor any other part of the Kingdom for that matter, so I decided to come here and find another way to serve the Resistance.”

  “Did you take precautions that you were not followed?”

  “Of course, Galen. I've been playing this game long enough not to bring the enemies here. We were able to get through the gate and close it before our pursuers could follow. My apprentice made sure to grab the crystals so the gate could not be used again.”

  Kira flinched when Galen’s attention turned to her. In a movement swifter than she could imagine, he grabbed her chin and yanked her hood back. He stared into her eyes as if he was trying to examine her soul. Silver flecks floated in his pupils, becoming larger and forming a silver rope that drew her into their depths. Her knees wobbled. She averted her gaze to avoid falling deeper under his spell.

  His finger stroked her cheek. “Why is she dressed like a boy?”

  Kira lifted her eyes,
and relief washed over her to see him staring at Tyrrus, not her. No one had ever seen through her disguise before. But then, no one had ever examined her so thoroughly before, either. He was still holding her chin as Master Tyrrus fumbled over his words to answer the question. Somewhere deep within her, she found the courage to whisper, “It was safe.”

  His head snapped back in her direction, but she had already backed away out of his reach. He assessed her from head to toe, and for the first time in her life, shame over her appearance seared her skin. She retreated further behind Master Tyrrus and pulled the hood over her head again.

  “You know the human laws don't allow the training of women in magic,” Master Tyrrus explained, “but when I saw how strong the gift was in her—”

  A green light flashed from Galen's fingers. Kira braced herself for the impact, expecting some intense pain or other means of torture once it hit her. Instead, a warm blue glow surrounded her for a few seconds, increasing in intensity before fading.

  Galen's eyes grew wide as the spell dwindled. Perhaps it didn’t do what he intended it to do.

  Master Tyrrus stepped between them and attempted to lead the elf in the direction of the large tent. “Yes, you see what I mean. I had to train her, but with the laws being what they were, I needed to disguise her as a boy. I'll be happy to explain everything in a more private setting.” Kira took a step after them, causing Tyrrus to pause. “The child, of course, is exhausted from this ordeal and could use a warm meal and a place to lay her head.”

  Galen nodded. “Jaius, please take the girl to a tent and see to it she gets everything she needs.”

  The dark-haired elf beckoned for her to follow him as he left the clearing. Kira followed without speaking, replaying the encounter in her mind. It wasn’t until they reached a small yellow tent that she realized he hadn’t even asked her name. She was just a girl to him—a girl dressed like a boy with a dirty face, even dirtier clothes, and short hair sticking out in every direction. She sank into a pile of blankets inside and pulled her knees up to her chest.

  Jaius returned a few minutes later with a wooden trencher containing a slice of roasted meat and a boiled potato. She thanked him and devoured it, hardly noticing that she burnt her fingers and tongue with the hot food. Full and exhausted, she pulled one of the blankets up to her chin and drifted off to sleep.

  She awoke to snoring from the other side of the tent and smiled as she burrowed deeper under the covers, not quite ready to face the early morning chill. Master Tyrrus had found his way to the tent and was at last catching up on sleep. She wondered what he wanted to discuss privately with Galen. Her master had his secrets, even though it frustrated her that he shared few of them with her, even after all these years.

  Her thoughts turned to Galen then, and she sighed as she rolled over onto her back. In Dromore, there were plenty of attractive men, but none worth betraying her identity for. Galen far surpassed them. She closed her eyes and traced every inch of his face in her mind, from his lapis-colored eyes, along his beardless cheek to the delicate tips of his pointed ears. No human could ever compare to him.

  And more importantly, he saw her for who she was—a girl.

  Her excitement was fleeting when she remembered her appearance. She needed a bath. She grabbed several blankets and crept out of the tent, taking advantage of the moment. The water was icy cold when she jumped into the river fully clothed, and she made quick work of scrubbing her face, hands, and hair. Shivering, she crawled out of the river and wrapped herself in a blanket. With the murmur of a few words and a flash of magic, her clothes were dry, and she tried to comb her unruly short hair straight while she made her way back to the yellow tent.

  “Where have you been?” a voice asked as soon as she entered. Master Tyrrus sat in a chair he had procured somehow in her absence. He tapped his foot and waited for her reply.

  “I went down to the river to get cleaned up.” Kira tossed the blanket back in the pile and ran her fingers through her hair once again.

  “Why wouldn't you look Galen in the eye last night?”

  The directness of his question stopped her in her tracks. Did she dare tell him about the silver haze? “You told me not to stare,” she finally replied and began folding the blankets.

  Master Tyrrus wasn’t convinced with her answer, but he didn’t pursue it. “Well, because of the way you acted last night, he doesn’t trust you.”

  “Whatever have I done to make me untrustworthy?”

  “You're a human who can't look an elf in the eye. To Galen, that is a confession of guilt.”

  “But I've never even seen an elf before.”

  “I spent most of the evening trying to explain that to him, but he wasn't convinced. He told me he was going to keep a close eye on you while you’re here, which was a vast improvement over his original plan to teleport you somewhere in the middle of nowhere.”

  Frustration welled up within her. She was being convicted for a crime she no idea she was committing. “But I haven't done anything!”

  “There was something about you that unsettled him. He wouldn't tell me what it was, but I've never seen him agitated like that before, which is saying a lot about an elf.”

  “Was it because of that spell he tried to cast on me?”

  “What spell? Oh, that one. That was just a spell to see your aura.”

  “My aura?”

  “Yes, your aura. Don't you ever listen to me? Your aura tells two things—what kind of magics you’ve cast and how strong the gift is in you.”

  “And was there something wrong with my aura?” She looked down at her hands and remembered the warm glow that radiated from them the night before.

  “No, though I think he didn't expect the intensity of it. And of course, he demanded to know everything about you—where you came from, how long you have been apprenticed to me, what spells you know—”

  “You mean he actually wanted to know more about me?” Her voice squeaked at the end of her question, but she didn’t care. Her heart fluttered in her chest. He wanted to know more about boyish, insignificant her.

  His face lit up with understanding. “Ah, so that's how it is then? You fancy him?”

  She bit her lip and watched her fingers tangle in each other. “Well, it's just that he’s so—so—” Her cheeks were on fire, and she moved closer to the opening of the tent to catch a cool breeze from outside.

  Tyrrus frowned. “Listen carefully to me, my child. It is best to banish those silly thoughts from your mind right now. Even if we forget the situation we’re in, nothing will ever come of your foolish girlish fantasies. Elves and humans don't mix like that.”

  Her heart became heavy, weighing down her entire body. “Why not?”

  He sighed and beckoned her to him. “I forget that you’re still young, and the world seems to be full of endless possibilities to you. You've been sheltered from the harsh lessons of life. You are mortal, and you will eventually grow old and die. Galen, on the other hand, is immortal. Even when the dust that was once your body is scattered to the wind, he will be as you see him now, and he will forget that you even existed.” His voice softened. “Do you understand, my child?”

  She nodded and fought to control the frustration that burned in her throat.

  “I'm not trying to be cruel. On the contrary, Kira, I'm trying to prevent you from setting yourself up for heartache. So cleanse your mind from any silly romantic notions and focus on trying to gain his trust and the ways you can contribute to the Resistance. Otherwise, you're just a useless mouth to feed.”

  She nodded again as she stood and straightened her oversized tunic. She could at least prove herself useful here, maybe even impress them with her skills as a mage.

  “I'll go see if I can find something for breakfast,” she mumbled, not wanting to endure anymore disappointments on an empty stomach.

  CHAPTER 6

  Pain seared every inch of Ranealya’s being like a branding iron, focusing in her right thigh. She now unde
rstood why a minx would chew its own leg off when it was caught in a trap. She would, too, if she could manage the strength to change into one. But the Azekborn's poison was much stronger from the sword than from the arrows that had wounded her in the past. It burned as it pounded through her veins.

  Something cool bathed her face. She tried to open her eyes again, but the light was still too intense. A muffled voice in the distance tried to tell her something. Please, let death come quickly so the pain would end. The coolness traveled from her face to her right leg, and the pounding slowed. Someone lifted her head. The voice was nearer now, but still indiscernible. Was the Goddess trying to speak to her again?

  Something bitter filled her mouth, causing her to choke. The liquid overflowed her mouth and drained down her cheeks onto her shoulders. She swallowed, and the liquid stopped. It was inside her now, coursing through her throbbing veins, cooling them on contact. Relief had come at last. She had never feared death, and now she welcomed it. She would no longer be Ranealya, the cursed one. She would at last come home to a place where she would be welcomed, where she belonged.

  Her body grew heavier, and she felt her head sink. The pain was nearly gone now. It was time to go home.

  ***

  When Ranealya opened her eyes, her surroundings were not what she expected. She knew this place. The high crossbeams in the ceiling. The rows of books and scrolls haphazardly stacked on the shelves. The large stone fireplace. A dog licking her face. She recognized all of this, and her hands clenched into fists.

  “Ranealya, are you awake?” a voice asked in the distance.

  She knew that voice, too, and it irked her. She swatted the dog away from her.

  A face leaned over her. The familiar hazel eyes behind the glass spectacles seemed more worried than filled with their usual analytical focus.