In The Depths Of Winter

by Bradley Mitzelfelt

  “Focus is in the mind,” his mother said, tapping herself on the head. “In here. If what’s in here isn’t completely dedicated to the task, then what you do outside of it will never work. You have to clear your mind of all distractions and then tell the magic what you want it to do.”

  “It’s not as if that’s easy,” he said.

  “No, it’s never easy, but you learn to do it because lives matter when it comes to the use of magic. Anything less than your full attention is dangerous and careless.”

  The fact that magic was dangerous was something he knew. He’d been throwing it around for a little while and had done more harm than good in the process. Well, perhaps not overly obvious harm, but harm nonetheless. If nothing else, I did manage to make a lot of people mad at me, he thought.

  “Alright, let me try again.”

  At first his mind was a jumble of images. Different places and people he’d seen. He wondered about the dwarves and what they were doing now that Gregor had found them. He wondered where Fanan had gone to, and why she hadn’t at least said goodbye. And what of Aiyana? Was that truly the only time he would ever see her? The more he thought about, the more his mind raced, the more determined he became. Slowly he started focusing on the stone in his hand. It could be used as more than just a channel for magic. He began to see glimpses of it between the flashes in his mind, until the images slowed and only the rock remained.

  He was alone.

  There was nothing around him but silence. For a time he just stood there, unaware he was even standing any longer. Then he pictured it, the portal opening, resolving into a pathway connecting two areas of the same plane. A line between two points, not straight but curved, creating the shortest path. It opened, and it remained open. He stepped towards it, oblivious to the fact that his mother was telling him to stop, that it might not hold.

  In he went, and he raced down the pathway to the other side, remembering the words about not stopping and not falling from the path. He paid no mind to anything but the light in the distance, which he quickly passed through and came out at the far end of the long hall. There was no light there. It was as pitch black as his mind had become. When he focused his attention on his surroundings he realized what he had done, a grin dawning upon his face as he searched around him for the light in the distance, knowing that was where his mother would be.

  The wind whipped through his hair as he raced back towards his starting point. Each column that he passed was just another number in his count to victory. He’d done it. He’d managed to successfully bridge two points with a magical plane that allowed him to travel out of sight and out of mind. It would allow him to travel great distances with ease.

  “It worked!” he said as he drew close to his mother, who was spinning about, looking every which way in the dark. “All the way to the end of the hall, which isn’t far-“

  “That was careless!” his mother said, cutting him off. “You’d failed again and again to create a stable portal, but the first time you get one stable you think it’s alright to go running down it? How did you know it would remain stable the entire time you used it? Or did you even think about what you were doing? I suspect the latter, but with you it’s sometimes hard to tell!”

  She was quite livid, but even he could see the worry in her eyes.

  “What’s done is done,” he said. “I made it through and there’s no point in dwelling on what could have happened.”

  “You don’t understand your magic, Dearic. You still don’t. Magic is not something you can treat as trivial. Yes, you understand now that Magic can be a great aid to you, but you still ignore that it can kill you, even as you use it. You understand that using it without a focus will destroy your body, yes, but there are other ways it can kill you, too. Even getting stuck in the travel realm is nothing compared to what else it can do. Magic is light and dark, good and evil. It takes the shape of all of the elements. It surrounds and flows through us and within us. We have an inherently greater amount of it within our being, which is why we can channel it.

  “But just like any action you take without the use of Magic, you must take into account the outcomes. An avalanche, for example, can be a very useful aid to taking down a horde of Blood Knights, but it is also outside of your control once you trigger it. Had there been a village directly in the path of that horde, it would have been wiped out as well. Summoning a giant rock beast to fight for you can lead to it turning on those you would have it aid. You create the beast, but you don’t control it. Leaping straight into something is only going to result in catastrophe. Magic use is like war: you must plan every maneuver on the battlefield meticulously in order to mitigate the loss of life but allow for the greatest impact. So yes, you survived this time, but there’s no guarantee that you will next time.”

  While she spoke he stood and listened. His elation at succeeding in what she’d asked of him faded rapidly. It seemed, at least to him, that making her happy would truthfully involve him never using Magic and just running away to hide. She loved him. Despite barely knowing who he even was, she loved him, and that love had created a fear of losing him. He sighed.

  “Alright, I understand. I’ll be more careful from now on, I promise.”

  “Good. The ability to travel using the Travel Realm is something that should truly only be used in an emergency and as a last resort. It’s dangerous even in the best of circumstances.”

  “The speed of travel will make it hard for me not to want to use it often.”

  “Having the abilities we have is never easy. We must exercise restraint, and that is difficult to do. The best mages of old were renowned and revered despite rarely ever using their Magic. They’re knowledge was so great, and will so strong, that their Magic did not burden them with thoughts of grandeur. Your idiot of an Uncle is the exact opposite. He delights in playing with Dark Magic and does so in such a way that it has caused his body to age rapidly. He looks far older than he is now, but I suspect he doesn’t care.”

  His mother sat down, her hand rising to touch lightly to her forehead. The color of her skin had become much lighter and she was sweating, he noticed. A frown creased the corners of his mouth as he stepped over towards her and knelt down in front of her.

  “Are you alright?” he asked.

  “I’m-” she started, and then shook her head from side to side.

  Dearic removed his glove and reached his hand over to touch the back of it to her forehead. Her skin was warm to the touch. Too warm.

  “You’re feverish. We need to get you warmed up.”

  As he reached to put his arms around her, she batted his hands away.

  “Leave me be,” she said, looking up at him. “I have dealt with this long enough to know that the fever will eventually subside on its own. Putting me beneath a mountain of blankets will do nothing. It’s a curse, not a physical ailment.”

  “A curse? Something applied to you by Gregor?”

  “Yes. The only time he’s gotten close to me since your father was died. He managed to lay a curse upon me that will ultimately kill me. It’s called the Curse of Sorrows. It forces me to live and relive my greatest fears over and over again while ultimately attacking the body when the mind is distracted.”

  “But if he’s cursed you in such a way, how are you even still alive?”

  “The Laradain,” she said, taking a deep breath and seeming to relax a little. “They couldn’t lift the curse, of course, but they managed to put a spell in place to slow its effects. It’s worked so far, but I can feel it continually getting worse as the days go by. Eventually that spell will fail and there’s nothing that can be done of it. My days are numbered, Dearic, but that has been so ever since your father was taken from me.”

  “Can I not strengthen this shield and give you more time?”

  “No,” she said, reaching a hand out to pat his cheek lightly, a smile tugging at one corner of her mouth. “I thank you for caring enough about me to wish to offer. You are a good son, even if
I never got to treat you as such. My time is drawing to a close here, but I still have some fight left in me, do not fret.”

  “Are you not going to come with me to deal with Gregor? I want you to be with me when this is all over.”

  “Dearic that isn’t my lot in life. Besides, you won’t be going to deal with Gregor. You may face him at some point in your life, but your quest, the one you must undertake, is not to defeat Gregor, it’s to protect and save as many of the people of this world as you can. He already has one of the keys and he will eventually get the second. When that happens, only you will be able to save people. You can’t do that if you’re dead, so you can’t go hunting your uncle.”

  “But wouldn’t stopping him protect the people that you say I need to protect? Wouldn’t it stop him from bringing Chaos back into this world?”

  “Yes, but you can’t beat him.”

  She said it so bluntly that he rocked backwards, and fell back to sit upon his legs rather than kneel.

  “How do you know?” he asked.

  “I know, trust me. I know that all of the greatest of us tried to defeat him, together, and lost. He is too powerful. The only reason the Laradain have held him at bay is because his attention has been divided and because they are numerous. They are also born of Magic and possess a stronger connection to it than we do. They’ve fended him off, but they won’t beat him now that his attention will have shifted all to them. Soon enough the elves will fall, and with them the fate of this world will be sealed. It is inevitable, I’m sorry. You cannot beat your uncle, you can only strive to make it so he doesn’t win.”

  Fingers tapped lightly against his knees before curling into fists. He wanted to fight. He wanted to defeat his uncle, not be sat on the sidelines just trying to keep people alive. How does she know I can’t beat him? I’m not like the others. I don’t even need words. But even though he told himself these things, even though he heard the bitterness in his mind, he knew that she was right. If Gregor had defeated an entire kingdom of mages with only himself, orcs and goblins, then there really was no way to stop him. All of the magic in the world wouldn’t be enough any longer, and one young mage with the ability to use Magic without words wasn’t going to make enough of a dent.

  A sigh passed between his lips and he turned his head to the side to look at the wall. Not that he was studying something there, he just couldn’t think straight if he was looking at her.

  If she wanted him to protect people, to save people, then he would have to start first with the Elves, then the Dwarves, then the Mists, then his own people. But how would he even make them listen to him? The Elves were going to fall, but would they believe that? The Dwarves would think his words laughable, surely. And they most certainly wouldn’t join in with the Elves being involved. Then there was the matter of the Mists. He hadn’t even gotten what he needed from the Blood Knights thanks to his mother disposing of them. How was he to free the Mists then?

  “One group of people that I must save are the Mists,” he said, lifting his eyes to look into hers. “I met one of them. Her name is Aiyana. She called me her one and said I had an important future ahead of me. But they’re trapped in the valley by a spell placed on them. She told me I could break it, and when I went to the Laradain they told me I could as well. Thromiel, the one who helped me get my stone, said that I could break the curse.”

  “I know Thromiel. If he says you can then you can.”

  “He told me that I needed several things to free them. Most of the things I can easily get, but one of the things I need is the essence of a Blood Knight. I was hoping to get that earlier but you buried them. Do you know how I can get their essence?”

  She said nothing. Her eyes had gone out of focus and he felt utterly exposed, as though he were wearing no clothing. Her mouth opened and closed but no words came out. Dearic didn’t know what exactly to do. Is she alright? Is she suddenly getting sicker? Should I try to heal her? Before he could do anything she turned her face up to his.

  “You have been betrayed,” she said. “You need no such items to do what must be done. You could have done it when you met your Mist back then, but you lacked the knowledge and the stone. Thromiel would know this.”

  “I- what?”

  “He knows you don’t need those things!” She stood up quickly. “He sent you on a tangential quest to delay you. Which means he has the second key and intends to betray all of Amarand! Dearic you must hurry back to Laradain and stop him! It’s too soon, you won’t have the time you need to save everyone if he gives Gregor what he wants now!”

  “The Travel Realm.”

  They were the first words out of his mouth and the first idea that had appeared in his mind. He knew she would be against it, but he wasn’t going to give her the time to think. Still, he remembered what she said and the dangers it could impose upon him if he used it, and if he charged right into the heart of the Laradain village he could potentially come out right into danger. He focused until he couldn’t hear his mother anymore, and made the portal.

  “Be safe, mother. I’ll see you again soon,” he said without paying any mind to her. The words just rolled out as he moved into the shimmering gateway, and ran down the path towards the light in the distance.

  Chapter Eighteen

  As soon as he stepped out of the portal into the cold of winter he wished he’d taken a moment to grab a cloak. Not to mention he’d left behind his armor, but quickly reminded himself that he moved better without it. While he’d felt safe wearing it, it did hinder his normal movement patterns.

  Slipping the stone free and wrapping it around his hand, he prepared for whatever was to come. At the same time, he used his Magic to create a shell of warmth around himself before running into the forest. Truthfully he had no real idea where he was going. The smell of burning wood was pervasive, but the forest had been burning for quite some time so the smell was of no use to him. Neither were any of the landmarks. They’d traveled by Magic to escape the village before, and he really didn’t know where it was other than that it was somewhere in the trees themselves.

  He left a streaking trail of snow behind him that anyone could follow. Each tree he passed was another of no use to him. A thought did occur to him, but it seemed so simple that it couldn’t possibly work. It couldn’t, could it? Could I simply use my Magic to see Magic? I have to try. After all, it might work.

  It was as simple as picturing what he wanted to do and focusing on that. His eyes blurred momentarily and he stumbled over a root. When the world came back into focus his vision was quite tunneled, and tinged a vibrant red that was completely at odds with the green sky above them. It was disorienting. He held his hands out in front of him and noticed the glow surrounding his bracers. These he knew had magical properties. It worked.

  “Useful,” he said, before dropping his arms.

  Standing still, he focused on looking about him. There was nothing in his immediate surroundings that drew his attention so he moved forward. The way was difficult so he kept to a steady walk rather than a run. Despite the urgency, running would likely lead to injury or he’d have to give up the sight, which would be useless anyway because he’d never find what he was looking for. Each plodding step brought him deeper and deeper into the forest’s heart. He saw no sign of any beings around him, and didn’t even hear the grunts of orcs or goblins about him. It was disturbingly quiet.

  As he moved beneath a large Great Tree, and stepped around its trunk, he was greeted with a body splayed out in a mountain of red snow. It was mostly bones, but the color of the blood as it seeped between each flake of the crystallized water was still so red that he knew the kill was fresh. Judging by the remnants of cloth and the weaponry that lay nearby, it was an elf. Judging by the prints in the snow, it was orcs that had done it before moving off and away from him.

  He knew at this point that he would be too late. The elves would not be caught in the forest in such a manner. No orc would ever find them. Not unless they moved in haste a
nd let their guard fall.

  Following the orc tracks proved easy enough. As he did so, he began to hear them in the distance. He thought he was going to have to fight them, but as more tracks joined the ones he was following, his eyes distracted him. A shimmer of light drew his attention. Looking upward showed him a concealed lift system, waiting for use. The orcs had walked right past it without even knowing it was there. Maybe there was some hope for the elves in the village after all. If their spells were still in place to protect the entry system, then some of them had to still be alive.

  His foot slipped into the loop and he slapped the latch before shooting up to the platform above, also hidden behind magic. Once on the platform, the light around it shimmered and disappeared. He shook his head and cleared his eyes, allowing the Magic to dissipate. He was on one of the long bridges that led to the village. In the distance he could hear the orcs, and he could hear crackles and muffled roaring of burning timber.

  It felt wrong.

  His feet pounded the wooden platform as he raced towards the village. Each thud of boot brought him closer. As it came into sight, he knew his earlier fears were justified. He was too late. Flames spread from one house to the next. Bodies were strewn everywhere. Dead elves. Only elves. Nothing else. No orcs, no goblins. Just elves.

  The smell wasn’t bad yet. It was all fresh. The smoke was worse than the death. Each body he stepped past was another person that he’d celebrated with not long ago. Each face he saw was accompanied by a brief glimpse of that person when they were still alive, smiling, enjoying a good meal and music and dancing. His hand itched for his rapier. Fingers wrapped around the hilt. The other continued to keep the stone in contact with his skin.

  He passed one house, and then another. In the center of the village he found more death. And in the center of it all, an elf standing with a cloak wrapped about him. Even with his back turned, Dearic knew it was Thromiel. He looked completely at ease, even though, as Dearic drew closer, he could see Thurmiel at his feet, dead.