The Tears of Elios

by Crista McHugh

  The children all screamed in unison. “Demon bunny!” one cried as they ran away.

  Her nose twitched as she mentally snickered. Stupid humans. Perhaps people would take less notice of a dog. She hopped behind the nearest tent and emerged on the other side loping along on four legs with her tongue hanging out of side of her mouth.

  She moved through the camp with ease. If she attracted any attention, it was only when people threw scraps of meat or bread in her direction, which she devoured. Food had been scarce between Gregor’s home and here. All the while, she kept looking for the man she came here for.

  Near the center of the camp, her ears picked up the sound of his voice. She moved in that direction and spied Galen in the middle of a conversation with a fat human.

  “I don't care what you say, Tyrrus. This is for the safety of the camp.” Galen didn’t need to raise his voice to express his anger. The low, even tone left little doubt to his emotions.

  “Galen, she is not a threat to anyone,” the fat man protested.

  “She has poor control over her powers. She lacks discipline.”

  “Nonsense! She’d never hurt a fly. It's not in her nature. I brought her up better than that.”

  Galen opened his mouth to speak, but a dark-haired elf interrupted by whispering something in his ear. Her eyes narrowed. So, Jaius was still alive and still playing the part of best friend. Perhaps that was all he was good for.

  “I will not argue with you anymore. From now on, you are relieved of your apprentice, as you have taught her all that you seem capable of teaching her. Either I or one of the other Elders will be responsible for her education. Please see that she gets the package I left for her and that she reports to my tent in the morning to begin her lessons.”

  Galen turned and walked away with Jaius at his side. Ranealya followed. They paid little attention to the dog behind them as she listened to their conversation.

  “You’re letting this human occupy too much of your thoughts,” Jaius said in Elvish. “We need to be more focused on what to do against Anilayus.”

  “I am focused on what to do against Anilayus,” Galen replied in the same language. “You know the old stories about how a single feather can tip the scales in your favor. I think she is our feather.”

  “And are you willing to gamble our lives on that?”

  Galen grabbed Jaius by the shoulder. “I have a plan that will work.”

  “If you don't anger the gods. You know what happened to the last person who attempted this.”

  Galen quickened his pace, causing Jaius to jog a few steps to catch up with him. “There is a difference. My intentions are not selfish.”

  Jaius said no more and followed Galen into the large tent. She could tell by the expression on his face that he would approach this topic with Galen at a later time. The flap snapped shut behind them.

  Ranealya wanted to learn more about his plan, but the two elves standing sentry at the tent discouraged her from strutting through the main entrance, even in the unassuming form of a dog. She went around to the back of the tent and found an opening large enough for her to peek under the canvas when she crouched low on her belly.

  Fourteen bodies filled the tent, most of them elves. She recognized a few familiar faces. In addition to Galen and Jaius, she recognized Thoranus, one of the Elders, and Elisus, who made no effort to hide his loathing of the non-elves in the tent. Two humans stood on the periphery, aware of the sneers and snide remarks Elisus and his attendants were making in Elvish, even though they probably did not understand the words. Three dwarves also huddled near each other, puffing on their pipes and watching the elves. The lone faerie waited in his full height rather than his diminutive form, his wings hanging down his back like a sheer cape and his chin barely rising above the head of a nearby dwarf.

  Galen moved to each group, welcoming them in their own language.

  The silence was broken as two more humans burst into the tent, allowing the sunlight to fill the dimness. “Sorry we’re late,” the younger of the two said. “We finally caught that boar that's been a frank pest lately.” He had a rolling sound to his words, most pronounced with the Rs. A Highmounter.

  “You're only a few minutes behind, Arlisle,” Galen answered as he shook his hand. “Thank you for attending to that matter.”

  He smiled, his white teeth provided a stark contrast against his dark beard. “Not at all, Galen. It was a large one, too. We’ll feast well tonight.” He leaned over Galen’s shoulder and addressed the rest of the tent. “There's plenty to go around, if any of you'd be liking some of the meat.”

  The dwarves and humans nodded in acceptance, and Elisus wrinkled his nose in disgust. “I'm sure we can find better things to dine on than wild boar.”

  Galen turned, a frown etched into his face, but the Highmounter seemed unfazed by the insult. “Suit yourself—that leaves more for the rest of us.” He helped his grey-bearded companion to a chair. Both were bears of men, but the older man limped as he crossed the tent.

  “You didn't get hurt in the hunt, did you, Fergan?”

  “Ach, no, Galen. My knees are just causing me a wee bit of grief after all the excitement, that's all.”

  “Can we get this meeting started?” Elisus drawled. “These humans are aging before my eyes.”

  “Everyone, please, have a seat.” As the crowd parted, Ranealya saw sixteen chairs had been laid out in a circle. Galen waited for everyone to sit before he did the same. “Think you all for coming. I'm pleased to see representatives from all the peaceful races here. I wish to discuss the plan I have that would offer permanent protection from Anilayus and the other humans that think like him, but it requires the cooperation of all of us.”

  “I'm only here to see if the rumors are true.”

  “What rumors, Elisus?”

  The elf leaned forward, and his eyes filled with suspicion as they darted among the non-elves. “You know what I speak of,” he hissed in Elvish.

  Out of the corner of her eye, Ranealya saw one of the dwarves slide his beefy hand along the handle of his ax. Elisus’ son, Seron, saw it as well and reached his hand back to his quiver.

  Galen jumped to his feet. “We need to work together if we are to succeed, not attacking each other. No one race is superior to another. We all have a part to play in the Resistance, and the sooner we overcome our petty rivalries, the sooner we can live our lives in peace.”

  “And what makes you think you're the proper person to lead us?”

  Unable to endure any more of Elisus’ questions, Ranealya slipped under the edge of the tent, shifting to her normal shape as she stood. “Having a meeting without me?” She wrapped a blanket around her body, securing it under her arms, and held her head high as she crossed the circle to stand next to Galen, all too aware of the stares that followed her.

  “This meeting is for beings of intelligence, not half-animal monstrosities like you.”

  She snarled at Elisus, a sharp retort sitting on her tongue, but Galen stopped her.

  “What are you doing here, Nyelle?” he whispered in her ear.

  Her claws elongated. “I told you, never call me by that name.” She shook his hands free from her shoulders. In a slightly louder voice, she added, “You said this was a meeting of all races, and I'm here representing the shape-shifters.”

  Elisus smirked. “You mean to say the Azekborn hasn’t cleansed the earth of your accursed race yet? Pity. Perhaps they are not as dangerous as I first thought if they can't hunt a group of beasts to extinction.”

  “Perhaps they would be better occupied removing an arrogant bigot like you,” she snapped, her teeth bared and her claws extended.

  Two of his attendants stepped in front of him, arrows drawn, shielding the elvan elitist.

  “Ranealya, control yourself!”

  “What do you expect, Galen? After all, it is little more than an animal. Why don't you just let me put the Cursed One out of its misery so we can resume the meeting?” The two elve
s pulled back on their bows and took aim.

  Galen placed himself between her and the archers. “Enough!” He grabbed her wrists and forced her hands to her sides. “You're no help to any of us if you're dead.”

  She stopped fighting him and remained still as Elisus asked, “What possible use could it be to us?”

  Galen turned to face him. “That is enough from you, too, Elisus.” He continued in Elvish, “Yes, the rumors are true, and out of everyone here, she's the only one who knows how to use them.”

  “Use what?” she asked as she pried Galen’s hands away.

  Elisus signaled for his attendants to lower their bows.

  “Ranealya, go to my tent, and I'll explain later.” She opened her mouth to ask another question, but he shushed her by placing his index finger over her lips. “I said later. Go, and please try not to cause any more trouble along the way.”

  She cast a sideways glance at Elisus, who leaned back in his chair with a smug expression, before looking back at Galen. His blue eyes pleaded for her cooperation, so she nodded. She pulled the blanket off, and before it hit the ground, she’d already changed into a large gray wolf. She circled the group, growling at Elisus as she passed.

  The delegation watched her with a mixture of fear and awe. Most of them had never seen a shape-shifter before. The Elgean humans appeared to be the most ill at ease with her presence, lifting their feet off the ground as she passed. The only exceptions in the group were the four elves who knew what she was and Arlisle, who was no doubt trying to figure out how to hunt her. She slipped through the tent flap, startling the sentries as she passed, and went to Galen's tent as instructed.

  As soon as she was inside, she resumed her normal shape and reached for a tunic to wear without thinking. Several hours passed, which she spent reading his papers and searching his tent. A locked trunk in the center of the tent sent a shock through her hand when she tried to scratch through the leather surface, but otherwise, she found nothing of interest. She curled up on the cushions and waited.

  “It is rather nice not to have to remind you to cover up,” Galen said as he entered the tent.

  She smoothed out the tunic that reached the middle of her thighs. “Yes, a nasty habit I picked up recently.” She thought of how pink Gregor’s ears became whenever she was not wearing one and smiled.

  “It still doesn't hide your new scars.” He sat on the trunk and leaned forward on his elbows. “You’re too reckless, Ranealya. You always have been.”

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  He frowned. “You're becoming less and less like your former self. It used to be in your nature not to lie.”

  She sprang to her feet. “Why can't you see that I am what you see before you? Why do you keep comparing me to someone who is long since dead?” She paced in front of him like a caged animal, but he remained calm and motionless.

  “Perhaps because I still see glimpses of her from time to time. In your core, you are still the same person.”

  “You're wrong!”

  He shrugged. “We are each entitled our observations.” He waited for her to slow her pacing. “So what brings you here today?”

  “Can't I just want to pay you a visit?”

  “That's not like you at all. What do you want so badly that you would come out of hiding?”

  “I'll answer that question after you explain your big plan to stop Anilayus.” She stood still. “He'll be marching this way as soon as the snow melts.”

  Galen rubbed his chin. “That doesn't give me much time. Perhaps you can help me find the rest of them.”

  She didn’t like the sound of this. She had come to tell him about Gregor, and he was trying to recruit her for the Resistance. “Find what?”

  He opened the trunk. Inside were two ordinary appearing crystal globes, but Ranealya knew what they were the moment she saw them. Ice filled her veins.

  “The other eight Tears of Elios.”

  She slammed trunk closed. “Are you crazy? You know what they are capable of doing in the wrong hands!”

  “Which is why we need to find all of them before Anilayus does.” She stared at him in disbelief. “Like Travodus, he believes in the legends, too.”

  “Then let him use them and suffer the same fate.”

  “And what about his victims?”

  She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. How did he always find a way to make me feel guilty? “Why do you need me to help you?”

  “Because you can move around Elgeus easier than most of us. With your ability to shape-shift, you can fly into an area, recover the orbs, and fly out of without being noticed.”

  She lifted her tunic to show him the fresh scar on her right thigh. “The Azekborn are becoming quite skilled at finding me lately, in case you failed to notice.” He looked away, his mouth twisted in a grimace, and she lowered the tunic. “If Gregor hadn't found me and nursed me back to health, I wouldn't be standing here.”

  “Gregor? Who's Gregor?”

  Finally, she’d turned the conversation to something she wanted to talk about. She smiled and leaned against his desk. “Gregor Meritis. He’s a human that is rather sympathetic to our plight and may prove to be useful.”

  Galen frowned. “Meritis, you say? Hmm.”

  “What have you heard about him?” His reaction worried her, and she wondered if she’d told Gregor too much during her stay with him.

  “That he's rather fond of acquiring elvan knowledge.”

  She relaxed a little. Galen knew more than he said, but if there was something concerning, he would have told her. “He has the Scrolls of Corang.”

  She had his attention now. “And is he aware of their contents?”

  Ranealya grinned and shook her head. “They’re buried in a stack of scrolls he has yet to translate.”

  “Very interesting.” He sank onto the trunk, lost in thought.

  She sat next to him. “I was wondering if I could arrange a meeting between you two. That way, not only could you get the scrolls, but perhaps you could persuade him to join the Resistance. He seems to be a skilled mage.”

  “Yes, Gregor Meritis could be a powerful ally. Let me talk it over with Thoranus, though.”

  “If you must.” She stretched. “It'll give me some time to rest. Do you mind if I sleep here?”

  “Not at all, so long as you don't cause any more trouble.”

  “I'll try not to, so long as Elisus and Seron stay away from me.” She rose and went to a curtained-off corner of the tent, dragging two cushions behind her. She was just getting comfortable on her makeshift bed when she heard another woman's voice in the tent.

  “Oh, Galen, it's beautiful! Thank you so much!”

  She peeked from behind the curtain and saw a blaze of red. As a woman stood still, however, Ranealya grew mildly amused. The stranger was small and slight, hardly more than a girl, with short dark hair. She twirled around in the red dress once more and fixed her adoring eyes on Galen.

  “I'm glad you like it. It's about time you started dressing like a woman.”

  The girl beamed at him with such admiration that Ranealya wanted to vomit. She pulled the tunic off as she changed her body into something slender and sleek with glowing ivory skin and shiny golden hair. A female version of Galen. She then wrapped a blanket around her before stepping out from behind a curtain.

  Her entrance had the desired effect. The girl’s expression froze, followed by the smile sliding off her face. The skirt of the red dress slipped from her fingers as she stared at Ranealya's golden beauty.

  “Galen, who is your little friend?” she asked as she stood behind him. She rested one slim hand on his shoulder, causing the girl to wince in pain. Perfect. The little girl was getting the message to leave him alone.

  “Ranealya, this Kira. Kira, this is Ranealya—” He turned around and noticed her form. His eyes darkened, but the damage had been done.

  Kira's bottom lip trembled before she stuttered, “Pleased to meet
you,” and dashed out the tent.

  Ranealya snickered as soon as the girl was out of earshot, morphing into her normal form.

  Galen, however, was not amused. In a rare display of intense emotion, he snatched her hand off his shoulder so hard that the pain quelled her laughter. His voice dripped with venom as he asked, “What was the meaning of that?”

  She tried to pull her hand free, but he only tightened his grip. “Consider it a favor to you.”

  “A favor?” His grip loosened a bit.

  She took advantage of the moment and wrenched her wrist free. “Yes, a favor. Any fool can see that the girl’s in love with you.” Any fool but Galen, she added as his anger melted into confusion. A slow smile crept along her face as she rubbed her injured hand. She had regained control.

  “Not that anyone could blame her. To the young girl like her, a handsome, dashing elf like you would be the man of her dreams.” She circled him like a predator toying with its prey before delivering the killing strike. “Then you shower her with all this special attention and gifts like a pretty red dress.” She took care to speak slowly, using each word as a weapon against him. “I just saved you the trouble of explaining to her that you could never return her feelings of love. After all, she is just a human.”

  Her last sentence, meant to console him, instead refueled his anger. “Just because you've chosen a lonely, miserable existence for yourself doesn't give you the right to impose it on everyone around you.” He lifted the flap to leave but lowered it halfway as he said over his shoulder, “You can stay here tonight, but I want you gone in the morning. Go find Gregor Meritis and tell him I will meet with him in seven days time.”

  “Galen, please, wait!” She couldn’t bear the thought of him being angry at her. Regret seeped into her skin, making it burn with shame. After everyone else had shunned her, he’d always stood by her side. “I'm sorry.”

  When he turned back, the pity on his face stung like a whip. “I'm not the one you should be apologizing to. I'll find Kira and explain things to her. But I meant what I said—in the morning, I want you gone. You’ve caused enough trouble for one day.” He exited the tent, abandoning Ranealya to her regret.