The Tears of Elios

by Crista McHugh

  “Because it will burn your hands.”

  “I doubt it will be as bad as that,” he said as he walked past her, searching for the orb. “After all, Travodus was a human.”

  She winced at the mention of the mage’s name but said no more. Every time she tried to peek around the sphinx, it hindered her view, like a cat toying with a mouse. He needed to get her out of here before she lost her temper.

  He scanned the room and found the orb waiting at the bottom of a pile of treasure in the back of the cavern. He longed to finally hold it, to see the locations of the other orbs for himself. He reached out and grabbed it, careful not to touch any of the surrounding gold and gems. His hands grew warm, but they didn’t burn like she said they would.

  There was a flash of white light, and an image slowly came into focus in the center of the orb. As if he was flying at a speed faster than the wind, he saw the top of the canyon carved out of the Green Mountains disappear. He travelled westward to some stone ruins on the other side of the mountains. Buried deep within the rubble, another orb sparkled in the sunlight. Then the visions disappeared.

  He had seen those ruins before, he realized as he carried the orb back to Ranealya. They were the Ruins of Rhodus, where Travodus reportedly cast his ill-fated ritual. He now understood why she didn’t want to find the third orb.

  She shoved him into the tunnel. “Let's go.”

  “Wait!” He turned and bowed to the sphinx. “I appreciated our meeting, sphinx.”

  It narrowed its eyes, and Ranealya pushed harder.

  Once they were outside the cave, she snatched the orb and examined his hands. “Why aren’t they burned? You're not of elvan blood.”

  He looked down and saw she was right. “I've had enough of your blood on my hands, both with me healing you and you healing me. Perhaps it offered some sort of protection.”

  “Maybe.” She ran her finger over his palms.

  He met her eyes and saw a momentary glimpse into her mind. She had been worried about him, and his skin grew warm where she touched him. He inched closer to her, wanting to feel the warmth of her touch elsewhere.

  Her face suddenly grew stony, and she pulled away. “Let's move before the sphinx goes hunting for his dinner. We may still be on the menu if we linger here too long.”

  They weaved their way through the narrow canyon and back to their horses. As before, he cast a shrinking spell on the orb before she stowed it with the other one. Then they mounted up and continued to hug the outline of the mountains.

  “I'll take you most of the way to the next orb,” she said when the sun hung low on the horizon.

  “To the Ruins of Rhodus?”

  Ahead of him, she flinched. She nodded, though, and said nothing more to him as they rode. At the source of the West River, she turned north and began to ride up into the mountains along another trail known only to animals and foot travelers.

  Later that evening as they made camp, Gregor asked her why she refused to go with him to find the third orb.

  Her face twisted with anger. “Why do you persist in asking me questions you know I don't want to answer?” She crossed the campsite in three steps and crouched in front of him. “Shall I share a memory with you?”

  It took him a moment to form a coherent response to her offer. “You’ll let me into your mind?”

  “Yes, if it will satisfy your curiosity once and for all.”

  He was so eager to learn why she wished to avoid returning to the ruins, he reached forward and placed his hands on her head without thinking about the consequences. He closed his eyes and formed a connection between them. Then he began to pry into her mind.

  The first image he saw was a griffin pinning her to the ground as a gray-bearded man looked down upon her. “An elf without the gift?” The man smiled, and a chill rippled through Gregor’s body. “Yes, she’ll do nicely.”

  The image faded and was replaced by another. It was dark. Voices chanted around him. He began to sense what she sensed and, oddly enough, felt her emotions. She was sharing her complete memories with him. Her fear grew as she understood what was happening around her, making her heart pound against her chest.

  An eerie incantation floated through the air. Blue lights flashed and slowly intensified, and her breath hitched.

  Suddenly, a sharp pain filled his body, as if his flesh were simultaneously being ripped and burned from his body. His screams in the present mingled with hers in the memory. He tried to pull away, but she dug her fingers into his hands and pressed them tighter to her head. His eyes burned with tears as the pain finally passed, and the scourge of the three goddesses began.

  Lightning flashed from a goddess on the ramparts, and the walls of the fortress crumbled. He watched in horror as two other goddesses reduced Travodus to a pillar of ashes to be scatted by the gale-force winds. Like Ranealya did then, he wanted to do nothing more than to hide from their wrath, but she wouldn’t let him out of her mind.

  The fear ebbed as the elvan goddess approached Ranealya and held her chin. “You did not choose this fate, yet it has been given to you,” she said. “But all this has happened for a reason, Nyelle. You are the first of your kind, and you will be the last. Do not squander these gifts.” Elios smiled and returned to the other two goddesses.

  She finally released his hands as the goddesses faded away in her memory.

  Gregor trembled and stumbled backwards. Even after the Azekborn attacks, he’d never experienced that level of terror, nor had he dreamed he could tolerate that much pain and live to tell about it. Yet she had experienced all that and more. He wiped his tears away from behind his glasses and tried to slow his pounding heart.

  Ranealya was shaking, too, watching him with regretful eyes. “I'm sorry.” She sulked away to the other side of the camp and placed the saddle on her horse. “I shouldn't have done that to you. You don't need me anymore. I'll leave you now.”

  “But I want you to stay, at least for tonight.” He’d probably need her to protect him from the nightmares he would probably have later. He reached for her, but she kept her distance. “How will I find you after I retrieve the orb?”

  She lowered her head. “Now that you know my mind, you can send me a message, and I will send Galen to teleport you to the camp.”

  He resisted the urge to cast some spell to stop her from leaving him. He had asked for this, after all. He was the one who wanted to know why she refused to go to Rhodus and why she flinched every time the word “Travodus” was mentioned. “Now I understand why you wish to forget it.”

  He wished he could, too.

  She looked at him from the corner of her eye and moved away from the horse. “I'll stay tonight. Go to sleep, Gregor, and pray you’ll forget what you just saw.”

  He lay down as instructed and watched her sit across the camp from him, keeping guard against anyone that would bring them harm. She seemed so strong on the outside, but he was only beginning to understand how fragile she really was underneath her tough exterior.

  His eyes grew heavy. When he opened them the next morning, she was gone.

  CHAPTER 21

  Kira stared into the bonfire as Arlisle stroked her hair. She’d lost count how many times she’s asked herself why she had come here, but the answer remained the same. She was trying to feel the same way about him that she did for Galen. The faerie’s taunts echoed in her mind. Humans should stay with humans. And there was no shortage of male attention here in the Highmounte camp, especially since she returned looking more like a girl.

  Arlisle bent forward and kissed her on the forehead. His lips felt nothing like Galen’s. They were wet, sloppy, surrounded by a prickly beard. She responded by burying her face in his shirt, hoping to avoid another assault. Nothing about this felt right, but she was unsure how to proceed with the whole courtship nonsense.

  The music stopped, and she looked up. Jaius strode into the camp, paying no attention to the eyes that followed him. “Not another pointy-ear,” she heard rumbling thro
ugh Arlisle’s chest.

  Jaius stopped in front of her. “Kira, Galen needs to see you now.”

  “About what?” Arlisle replied.

  “That’s between him and her.”

  “I think I’ll come along this time.” He moved from under her, but she stayed still. “That is, unless the lass refuses to go.”

  Arlisle tensed as another hand touched her shoulder. A strange feeling of calm washed through her. “Please, Kira,” Jaius said, “he would not bother you unless it was important.”

  She nodded. Of course it had to be important—that was the only reason he would bother her. She rose with Arlisle close by her side and looked up at Jaius. The corners of the dark-haired elf’s mouth angled downward. “Let’s go,” she mumbled.

  The three of them crossed the camp and came to Galen’s tent. The lights inside burned brighter than normal tonight, and she wondered why. Jaius held open the flap and waited for her to enter.

  Inside, Galen sat on his trunk, his forehead resting in his hand.

  A female elf approached her, and Kira wanted to run away. This stranger was graceful, beautiful—everything she wasn’t. Her dark blue eyes searched Kira’s face. “Is this the apprentice?”

  Her pulse quickened. Is Galen trying to send me to someone else to complete my training?

  Galen looked up, his face contorted in agony. He scowled for a second when he saw Arlisle behind her. “Kira, I—” He stood and turned away. “Paleah, Orin, you tell her. You were there.”

  The dwarf reached into a brown sack and pulled out a heap of dark blue fabric. It was tattered, singed, and bloodstained, but as he unfolded it, she could see it was the robe of a Master. Her head swam. “Master Tyrrus?”

  The elves all simultaneously winced at the mention of his name, but Paleah nodded. “Your master died bravely. He distracted the red dragon, Kyrisha, so we could retrieve the Tear of Elios.”

  Kira’s throat constricted until she found it hard to breathe. Her eyesight blurred. She didn’t need to hear anymore. She saw it all before it happened. Another one of her visions had come to pass. Orin pressed the remnants of the robe into her hands. Her body stiffened, and she rushed out of the tent.

  “Kira, wait!” Galen called after her, but she kept running.

  Arlisle caught her before she got too far away. “Easy, lass, you don't have to run away to cry.” He wrapped her in his arms, steadying her.

  Galen stopped a few feet away from them. “I'm so sorry, Kira.”

  Rage like she had never felt before pounded through her veins. She wrestled out of Arlisle’s arms. “Why did you send him?” She rammed one of her small fists into Galen's chest.

  He stumbled back a step but bore her assault without trying to stop her.

  “You sent him on purpose. You sent him on this death mission just to get him out of the way.” Her words turned into sobs.

  Arlisle grabbed her wrists and tucked them under his arms as he tried to comfort her. “Don't hold it in, dearie.”

  “Kira, please listen to me. I never intended for this to happen. He wanted to go and went even after you warned him.”

  “Haven't you done enough, Galen?” Arlisle pulled her in the direction of the Highmounte camp. “You've taken away the only family the lass has ever had. You'd do well to leave her alone.”

  Galen didn’t follow them back to the Highmounte camp. Arlisle took her to a tent and lowered her onto a pile of furs. “Wait here, Kira. I’ll go get my Dah.”

  She pulled her knees up to her chest and allowed the hot tears roll down her cheeks. I should have stopped him. What could I have done differently to save him?

  Arlisle returned with Fergan and told him what happened. The older man knelt in front of her with a grunt and stroked her cheek. “It's all right to grieve, lass, but remember he died a hero's death. There's no better way to pass from this life than as a warrior.”

  ***

  She woke the next morning to the clanging of swords and shields. The Highmounters were practicing for war, the way they did every morning. She threw back the deerskin blanket and let her eyes adjust to the light. They felt gritty from the saltiness of her tears.

  She wasn’t surprised to find Jaius waiting for her outside. His eyes followed her as she left Arlisle’s tent. “Galen was worried about you.”

  “Tell him I'm fine.” She walked past him. The sunlight hurt her eyes, and she had a slight headache, but she wasn’t going to let Galen know that.

  Jaius, however, was on to her. “Are you?”

  “Am I what?”

  “Truly fine? Maybe he's just as confused as you are, Kira,” he continued before she could get a word in.

  Impossible. Galen always seemed so confident, so in charge of things. It was one of the many things she admired about him. Yet since they left Sylvania, his whole demeanor had changed. She began to wonder what else Mab had done to him.

  She said nothing and continued on to her tent. Jaius followed close behind, his steps falling into sync with hers. When they arrived at her tent, he reminded her of her lessons that afternoon and disappeared.

  Inside, she was unable to concentrate. She paced the floor. Everything here reminded her of Tyrrus. Her heart ached, but no more tears would fall from her eyes. A feeling of hopelessness consumed her, as if no matter what she did, she would never find joy again. She remembered the feeling of despair from her recent vision and wondered if it was related to what she felt now.

  The four walls of the tent threatened to smother her, and Kira ran down to the river to escape them. The melting snow had turned the quiet river into a raging torrent, but she didn’t fear it. She climbed a boulder on the shore and watched the rapids foam white as they tumbled over the rocks in the riverbed. It fit her mood—angry and uncertain. She closed her eyes and imagined how it would feel to float down the river, but then frowned. She would probably get banged up as she was shoved into the rocks and pulled under the water until her lungs burned for air. But would it hurt any less than what I’m feeling now?

  She sat on the boulder until night fell and her stomach growled. For a moment, she considered diverting her path to the Highmounte camp but decided against it. Arlisle already wanted more from her than she was willing to give, even if it meant a hot meal.

  When she entered her tent, Galen rose. “Where have you been? You missed another lesson.”

  She brushed past him without meeting his eyes. “Relax, Galen. I haven't been convening with the Azekborn.” Excitement rushed through her at the sarcasm in her voice. Maybe she was learning to forget about him, although she still kept her back to him so her face wouldn’t betray her.

  “You've changed since Sylvania.”

  “And you haven't?” She regretted sounding so harsh. The sadness in his voice tugged at her heart. She turned and kept her eyes downcast. “I'm just trying to find my place, that's all.”

  “You need to complete your training.”

  “I will eventually.” She busied herself with folding a blanket.

  He placed his hands on her shoulders, stopping her. “We need everyone at their full potential if we are to defeat Anilayus, especially you. Your gifts are extraordinary—”

  “Please,” she interrupted, “just give me a few days to grieve.” Her bottom lip began to tremble. “Right now, it feels like my whole world is crumbling around me. Everything I thought was safe and dependable has betrayed me.”

  Galen let go of her and took a step back. “I'm sorry if I had a part to play in this.” He turned, stopping at the tent flap to add, “We completed the archway here. The other side should be finished by tomorrow.”

  Her hands clenched into fists. The only reason he sought her out was for the ritual. “I'll create a gate if you'll just leave me alone.” She hurled the blanket at him.

  She realized how much her words stung when she saw the pain in his face. “If that is what you want,” he replied as he placed the blanket on the ground and disappeared.

  That night, Kira tos
sed and turned and she considered her options. She could continue to be hurt by Galen, or she could force herself to settle for Arlisle or some other human who covered her with sloppy kisses. Neither seemed adequate to her.

  The next morning, Arlisle brought her breakfast. She gratefully accepted the warm porridge and filled the gnawing void in her stomach as he sat next to her. “Dah told me they're expecting you to create some sort of teleportation gate.” He pried apart some of her tangled curls. “Do you think you can do it?”

  “I've done it before.”

  “Kira, I'm not as good with words as I would like, so I’ll get directly to the point. I'm worried about you being alone, and if you want to join our clan, we’d be happy to have you.”

  She smiled at him and his kindness, and his eyes lit up with hope. He deserved her honesty. “I'll have to decline for now. I need to figure out what I want.”

  He ran his hand through his hair, causing it to stand up on end. “I suppose you're still not over him yet.” He stood. “Not to worry, though, lass, I can be patient,” he added with a wink. He took the bowl with him and left her alone with her thoughts.

  Kira spent most of the morning wandering around the Resistance camp. It was the children who drew her attention the most: the apple-cheeked dwarf babies, the elvan children with eyes wise beyond their years, and the human children playacting what the adults did every day. A barefoot girl ran by her wearing threadbare blanket that had been transformed into a makeshift cloak. Her old cloak.

  There was a reason why Master Tyrrus, Fergan, Arlisle, Galen, and everyone else here were willing to risk their lives—to create a world where all the races could live together. And she knew then that she needed to put their needs before her own and contribute to the Resistance in the only way she knew how.

  She sought out Galen. He was easy to find, still in his tent, surrounded by Jaius and Paleah. For a brief second, she regarded the female elf with some suspicion, wondering if there was some sort of history between her and Galen. Then she scolded herself for letting such thoughts distract her from the task at hand.