by Lee Dunning
Raven’s scowl returned. “It’s important to me. I care because an entire segment of the Shadow Elves split off from the rest of the Elven Nation due to what happened. For some reason, my ancestors went from staunch supporters of Umbral, willing to exile themselves in protest over his harsh treatment, to a people who hate him so much they consider all males tainted. I want to understand what happened so I can fix it.”
“Fix it? After all these years?” Linden managed to stop just short of laughing, but his voice had once again risen above the accepted library whisper. A mixed group of humans, dwarves and halflings rose from their seats, muttering angrily, and headed deeper into the library, presumably to find some peace and quiet.
“Like you said, I’m young,” Raven said. She’d never spoken of her dream out loud before. Now that she’d said the words, they seemed ludicrous. Something a foolish child would dream up.
“Hey, I’m sorry,” Linden said. “It’s unlikely, but it’s a worthwhile goal. And despite doing my best to avoid philosophical discussion most of my life, I have to admit I’m a little intrigued. So where were we?”
Raven knew he was just being nice, but she allowed the kind words to lure her back into the conversation. “Deadly assassin or pitiful wretch?”
“Hmmm, I’m going to go with the ‘deadly assassin’ scenario myself,” Linden said. “That seems much more likely given the times. I’ve never seen a deformed elf—ever. If one existed, they would have dumped him off a cliff.”
“There’s more. The historians get into trouble because many of them cannot decide whether Umbral was an intelligent, capable killer, who made a power grab, which ultimately failed, or a sickly, twisted monster, who shouldn’t have posed any kind of threat to someone as powerful as the First, and yet somehow, nearly managed to destroy him.
“Also, one has to wonder what he thought he’d accomplish by murdering his father. There have never been all that many Shadow Elves, so he couldn’t have thought he could take over with only their backing. There just weren’t enough of them to win in a civil war. Regardless, patricide isn’t usually all that well-received. I’m certain the full story lies hidden somewhere.”
“Maybe the First had already been injured and Umbral thought he could kill him and place the blame on one of the elves’ enemies?” Linden said. He’d managed to get his voice under control and spoke in little more than a whisper. Raven wondered if it had finally occurred to him her snooping might ruffle feathers. The nervous way he peered around suggested as much. However, as best Raven could tell, no one, not even the grumpy gnome, paid them any mind. The other visitors seemed too engrossed in their own studies to notice.
“You really think you’ll find your answers here?” Linden asked.
Raven tried to keep the unease from her voice. Up until now, she had refused to entertain the possibility of failure. She’d convinced herself it would take simple perseverance to uncover the truth. Linden’s words forced her to consider a less positive outcome. “I hope so. The information might have been destroyed, or no one bothered to record it. But if the full story does exist, I can’t think of a better place to look than here.”
“Maybe,” Linden said. “Certain archives in the Tower of Magi back home aren’t allowed off the island. They’re considered too sensitive.”
Raven’s stomach dropped. “If that’s the case then I’m out of luck. I wasn’t born on First Home, so they’d never let me visit.”
“Not entirely accurate,” a new voice interjected.
Raven jumped and her head shot up in alarm. A Sky Elf stood directly behind her. Raven was certain the elfess hadn’t been there a second ago.
“Councilor Stormchaser!” Linden said, disturbing the peace of the library yet again. The councilor glared at him in exasperation. He closed his mouth, eyes wide.
Satisfied, the councilor turned her attention to Raven, and set down a small pile of leather-bound texts. “A provision exists stating that an Exile may gain citizenship if they provide a great service to the Elven Nation. Something heroic in nature.”
“That sounds simple enough,” Linden said. “Lady Raven, sixty pounds soaking wet, slays the ancient red dragon with her dry wit.”
“You really have no impulse control, do you, child?” the councilor said.
“No ma’am. I apologize.” His abashed expression was spoiled by a smile that refused to completely leave his face.
Councilor Stormchaser pursed her lips, but refrained from commenting further on Linden’s shortcomings. “True heroes don’t go searching for trouble, but when the need arises they find within themselves a strength they never knew they had,” the councilor said. She pushed the books over to Raven. Despite their excellent condition they appeared terribly fragile, and much too thin to contain anything of importance. “Perhaps these will give you some of the answers you seek. They’re journals from the very beginning.”
Raven gaped at the elfess, but quickly turned her attention to the books. With the greatest care, she opened the top one and scanned through a list of names on the inside cover. She could only read the last few as the writing of the earliest owners appeared only vaguely Elven. The three she could read clearly had the family name of Stormchaser.
“By the First,” Raven said. She looked back up at the Sky Elf. “These books look new, but that’s impossible—how old are they?”
A flicker of sadness followed by resolve emanated from the councilor. “They’ve been in my family since Lady Uruviel Stormchaser first created our written language—over ten thousand years ago. I’m giving them to you now.”
“What?” Raven shouted. She ducked her head and continued on more quietly. “That’s ridiculous. You don’t even know me. How could you simply hand over something like this?”
“You’re an empath, no?” the Sky Elf asked.
“Yes …” Raven said, wondering how this lady could know about her single psionic talent. She’d never allowed even her mother to know about it.
“And something more?”
Raven shrugged, hoping her growing fear didn’t show. “Sometimes I have dreams of things that will happen. They never make sense, though, so I can’t interpret what they’re trying to tell me—pretty useless.”
“What did you dream before you came here?”
Raven’s fear turned to embarrassment and blood rushed to her face. Linden looked back and forth between Raven and the councilor, apparently unable to follow the conversation. Raven hoped he stayed confused. “I dreamed of metamorphosis. I changed into someone I’m not. I met my one true love.”
“Child, you don’t transform into someone you’re not. You evolve into who you’re meant to be. Our people will face many changes and you shall help lead them.” Her gaze moved to Linden, and Raven felt the councilor’s sadness again.
“I don’t understand,” Raven said. The councilor wasn’t making any more sense than her dreams.
Councilor Stormchaser turned to go. “Read the books. Keep them safe. Help unite our people.”
“But what about you?”
The Sky Elf swallowed hard. Tears threatened to spill down her face. “I have scried the future and I am not in it. You are.”
Raven stared in shock as Councilor Stormchaser moved toward the exit.
“Councilor!” Linden shouted, jumping to his feet. He ignored the glares he drew.
Lady Stormchaser gazed back over her shoulder. This time she openly wept. “I’m so sorry,” she said.
Raven cried out as flames erupted through the doorway of the library, sending Linden reeling. Before Raven’s eyes, Councilor Stormchaser simply ceased to exist, consumed instantly by the inferno. The entire complex rocked, hit by a tremendous explosion, throwing everyone to the floor.
From somewhere, deep in the city, came a sound more felt than heard. And the screaming began.
Chapter 2
Thrown from her seat, Raven hit the floor, shrieking. She tumbled partway under the table, the councilor’s books clutched tightl
y to her breast. An arm’s reach away, Linden stared at the spot where Councilor Stormchaser had died, the horror of what he’d witnessed plain, even for a non-empath.
Another explosion tore through the room. The floor tilted and flaming books began to rain down. The burning missiles smashed into tables and struck down those trying to regain their feet. Flames began to take hold. Smoke started to choke and blind.
“Gods! What’s happening?” Raven’s voice came out high-pitched, frightened.
“I don’t know,” Linden said. He reached across the floor, grabbed Raven’s arm and dragged her closer. “We can’t stay here. We’re both pretty resistant to the smoke and heat, but eventually those book cases will collapse and crush us.”
Linden pulled Raven against his chest. The First Born began chanting, his brow furrowing. Once he completed his spell a glow encircled them. “Magic isn’t really my strong point, but I can manage to shield us from falling debris,” he said. “It should help keep the smoke back too.”
The two struggled to their feet. Despite her terror, Raven retained enough presence of mind to protect the precious books the councilor had given her. Sliding them inside her kimono, she and Linden began their escape from the library.
“The attack came from out there,” Raven said, her fear making every word an effort.
“I know, but I don’t see any alternative. We’d never make it to a different exit. My powers aren’t strong enough to keep us protected that long.”
Raven nodded, though she doubted Linden noticed. She allowed him to guide her through the smoke while she tried to focus on the councilor’s words. She’d said they had a future, so that had to mean they would survive this. Her dreams had indicated a great change would come into her life. She just had to keep her head and let Linden guide them. She felt her trembling lessen and her stride steadied.
Linden blinked through the soot stinging his eyes. They had made progress, but the books, furniture and bodies littering the floor made it impossible to take a straight path to the exit. He worried that his magic would fail. No ordinary fire could have affected anything in the magic-built library. As it was, the protective bubble he’d summoned did nothing to improve visibility. The young elf willed his eyes to penetrate the smoke. Was that movement ahead?
With startling suddenness, a powerful wind swept away the smoke, and the phantom movement proved to be two chainmail-clad Sky Elves. Their helms made it difficult to see their eyes, but anger had set their mouths into a grim line and fear had turned their normally blue-tinged skin pure white. They worked their magic in unison, clearing the lingering smoke from the front of the library. Rain, much weaker than Lindon would have expected, began to drizzle down, hissing and sputtering as it hit the flames.
More elves poured into the library, nearly trampling Linden and Raven. At least three dozen elves split into units of four and began working their way through the inner portion of the library. Survivors, many of them injured, stumbled past them toward the exit. People clung to one another, struggling forward in desperation.
Another Sky Elf shouldered her way in. Dressed in the black and red plate of a blood mage, she belonged to an elite sect of casters who used the blood and bones of the elves’ enemies to heal and protect their people. She scanned the devastation, an awful array of emotions playing across her pristine features. She gestured with her scythe, and others swarmed in to tend to the wounded. “Save as many as you can,” she ordered. “Only do what’s necessary to get people mobile. Make sure they know we’re evacuating to the Eastern Glade. I don’t want anyone thinking they can hole up here and hide from what’s coming. That’s not going to happen.”
As if on cue the ground rippled like water, tearing up tiles and spilling people to the floor. Linden and Raven staggered painfully into a wall. Screams echoed throughout the cavernous structure. Frightened people cried out to their various gods. Cries and curses in a dozen different languages added to the chaos. “What in the hells in going on?” Linden said, adding his own voice to the din.
The plate wearing Sky Elf swung around and spied Linden and Raven. “You two,” she said, “you’re not hurt?”
“No ma’am,” Linden replied immediately. “I’m part of Sergeant Bloodmane’s company. I should regroup with him.”
“He’ll have to manage without you, soldier. I need you to lead the folk still able to walk to the Eastern Glade.”
Linden started to protest, but another explosion drowned out his words. Green flames streaked down the causeway outside the library. People tumbled by, shrieking, burning and fighting off unseen horrors.
“Commander!” one of the chain-clad casters called out. “The defense in the Western Glade is failing. We’re out of time.”
“Shit!” the commander snarled. She dug into a pouch at her waist and pulled out a triangular-shaped tooth the size of her hand. She raced to the doorway, fast and sure for someone in plate. She threw the tooth into the causeway, chanting all the while. As the tooth hit the ground she made a sharp, cutting motion with her scythe. Black smoke writhed up from the tooth and an infernal roar rose up, shaking the walls. From out of the smoke uncoiled an immense skeletal nightmare.
“Dracolich!” Linden gasped, as he and Raven caught up to the commander.
“Not anymore,” the commander said. “Now he’s just an undead servant. He won’t hold for long, but long enough for you to make your escape. Now go!”
Linden, Raven, and a dozen or so others fled and headed toward the east. The skeletal dragon filled most of the area and they had to press against the north wall to slither past it. It bellowed a challenge to the host of death approaching from the west. As one they turned to see what terrible foe bore down on them. Raven cried out in fear.
Demons.
Linden had never seen one, but he knew without a doubt they were demons. Nothing from this plane could have spawned such grotesque abominations. Some flew, some crawled or slithered. Some even scuttled along the walls. Yet others leapt from spot to spot, savaging anyone or anything they landed upon. Many possessed no stable shape, using undulating tendrils of flesh to pull themselves along.
They drove before them the remnants of the soldiers sent to keep them from spilling into the rest of the city. The soldiers had done little more than slow down the horde. Even now, the elves fired spells into the demonic host, but it was just too little against so great and numerous an enemy.
Confused by the poor showing of the soldiers, Linden tried to call upon more of his own elemental power and felt it sputter, weak and nearly useless. He had never excelled at magic, but something clearly interfered with what power he did have. A hollow pit opened up inside him as the answer came to him. The thick walls and floor kept him and the other First Born from reaching Father Earth. The enclosed ceiling kept the Sky Elves from the sun and the wind. Gods! No wonder none of the soldiers had earth or air elementals assisting them. Their beautiful new city cut them off from the bulk of their power. We’ve killed ourselves.
Two magi exited the library to take up defense next to the undead dragon. Finding Raven and Linden wedged between the wall and the dragon, gaping at the oncoming demons, one of the magi leveled an angry glare at them. “What in the hells are you still doing here?”
Linden and Raven looked around and found themselves alone. The others from the library had fled the instant they’d seen the demons. The Sky Elf shook his head. “Idiots. Is that sword of yours even magic, soldier?”
“No,” Linden said. His stomach churned. The commander had given him one simple order; escort people to safety. Already he’d failed.
On the far side of the dragon, civilians and those too wounded to fight stumbled past. A few clusters of evacuees with a caster and a heavy fighter in the red plate of a seasoned soldier, moved by at a more orderly pace.
A human woman staggered nearby, clawing at the remnants of her clothing and boil-covered flesh. Her insides had partially liquefied and started to ooze out, clinging to her legs. She collapse
d with a squelch. Immediately, creatures squirmed and erupted from the boils. The Sky Elf pulled a wand from his belt and sent a searing bolt of magic toward them. White and blue flames engulfed the newborn monsters.
“Gods!” Raven cried. She clamped a hand over her mouth in an effort to keep from vomiting.
“Oh, you’re one of those,” the Sky Elf said, rolling his eyes. “You’d best get over that quick. If you’re expecting some great and powerful being to blast these bastards back to the Abyss, you’ll die faster than the rest of us. Here, take this.”
The mage waggled the wand in Raven’s faced. She swallowed hard, and removed her hand from her mouth so she could gingerly accept it without having to relinquish her grip on Linden. The Sky Elf expelled an exasperated puff of air. He started to trace glowing symbols in the air over Linden’s sword. “It has only nineteen charges left, so use them wisely.” To Linden he said, “The magic I cast on the sword should last until tomorrow. If you’re not gone from here by then it won’t matter. Now get going!”
The mage gave the two young elves a shove that sent them squirming past the rest of the skeletal dragon. They joined the other panicked people fleeing the demons. Overhead, the sound of wings made the hair on their necks rise. A shadow dropped out of the sky and snatched up a hapless gnome. His shrill cry disappeared into the dark.
Dark? When had night fallen? Linden risked a glance up and saw a boiling mass of clouds where before beams of light had made their way through the canopy of sculpted leaves. Black streaked with green and ochre, the mass covered the sky, shutting out the sun. Flying demons, only discernible through their movement, streaked about the folk racing east.
Ahead, more soldiers appeared. Armed with bows, they shot at the flying monsters. Glowing streaks of light soared skyward. Wails of pain attested to the archer’s success. Heavy bodies spilled out the air, creating a new hazard.
