by JW Baccaro
Then, the magicians of Cyteria used their power, casting ice spells over the flames, crystallizing the burning wood or heated brick, but it seemed to do more than just ‘extinguish.’ The crystallization held a red vapor or rising mist that formed into a large glowing sphere—the magicians had ‘captured’ the energy of the fire, and molded it for their use. Hovering in the air above the armies, they together cast the sphere to the other side of the battlefield, striking Morgalians about to charge in, reducing them to flames and dust.
All of it interesting to watch, Talvenya thought. Then a host of lights shined upon each Cyteria soldier, rejuvenating their strength, increasing failing courage, pushing them to fight harder against an already exhausted enemy. And fight harder they did, pushing the crazed cult fanatics into the near-by sea, turning the water dark red.
It seemed to be over and Cyteria shouted in joy, until a great rumbling underground shook the land. At first many thought it an earthquake, but the wisest knew better. This seemed—unnatural, like a giant creature moving around, to and fro, preparing to strike. Suddenly, the ground broke apart in numerous directions all at once. Soldiers fell into the cracks, their screams terrible, and out sprung what seemed to be—roots? Large black roots, like from a tree. They were everywhere, wrapping around men and women, crushing them into jelly, whipping against the castle walls, breaking the rocks to pieces. Swords could not cut these roots. Fire had no affect either.
Then green gases began rising out from underground, spreading through the crowd quickly, choking each individual taking just one breath. Then came a hideous non-Human screech piercing everyone’s ears, like a screech of anger. Perhaps the Morgalia Tree the enemies worshipped, springing into action now that its army had been destroyed? What was it, a type of evil God or Goddess? No one had time to figure it out, as another great cracking of the earth swallowed up half of the twelve layer castle, with the other half falling into the sea.
The only three survivors were the King, Queen and little Princess Ceutaiche. The King hurried them out of the castle once this nightmare began, and carried them down to the sea, where a small boat dwelled. Into the boat they went, oaring as fast as he could while the Queen held their daughter. They watched their kingdom, even the land it rested upon, sink into the ground. It happened too fast and made no sense.
Talvenya found herself suddenly flying through the air following after the boat, with the lady beside her. Talvenya glared at the ‘dominatrix,’ clearly disliking the fact this woman held total control over her every movement. She had no choice but to obey the lady’s will. How uncomfortable.
As for the fleeing family, food was no problem. The child fed off her mother’s breast milk while the King and Queen worked together, using powers of White Magic. The Queen would draw fish toward the surface by singing strange hypnotic melodies, look for the edible ones swarming around and quickly cast them into air bubbles and levitate the squiggly things onto the boat. The air bubbles popped and the King would grab them and cut off their heads, then gut them for eating. They were used to raw fish in fact they savored the taste, as it was a custom food back on Cyteria.
Water seemed no issue either. Again, the Queen would draw up salt water trapped in bubbles, set them aflame with a wild pink fire blazing around the parameter to purify the water. Then, she would levitate the bubbles over the King, Ceutaiche or herself and pop them, causing the fresh water to splash in their mouths for a drink. But the day grew unusually hot, and having no cover or shade to protect them, especially the child, was playing with death. If they were going to survive, they would have to do something quickly.
Now the King would use his real powers. He stood up, stretching out his arms and a strange wind blew, the water rose, and the boat began moving fast—so fast it almost seemed too difficult for the Queen to stay on, but she managed. Up and over the waves the little boat sailed, the winds hollowing and screeching. The King never moved a muscle, remaining in the same position, except his hair, which twirled every which way. Not only were they making good time, the constant breeze cooled them off also.
For how long this continued Talvenya did not know, once again the lady took her into the future, appearing during the night and in the middle of a horrible storm, a typhoon! The royal family of Cyteria still remained in the boat with the King repetitively reforming it, drawing back each piece of wood, down to the last particle as deadly winds were continually tearing it apart. He looked to be tiring quickly and hadn’t much strength left.
“Please just a little longer my love,” the Queen urged. “I know we’re close to land.” Seeing how he seemed about to pass out, she reached over to lend him strength.
He snapped back up, casting her arm away. “No my Queen, you need all your strength for Ceutaiche. Lend me nothing!”
“But—?”
“Do not argue with me!”
Another gust of wind struck them, nearly breaking the crackling boat to bits, but with every last ounce of energy the King kept it together, reforming the pieces. The stormed seemed to settle as the winds and rain slowed. Thinking they were safe, they both laughed happily, but all too soon. Immediately, the sky became darker, waters sprayed everywhere, rain increased—the very cyclone of the storm itself was heading straight for them, charging like a cavalry. It just wasn’t fair, like fate bullying them.
The King of Cyteria gazed into his wife’s eyes and smiled. He held her hand. "I love you, dearest Queen."
Instantly, she knew what he was planning. “No!” she yelled.
“Farewell my love,” he jumped out of the boat, swam away toward the approaching clone and it sucked him up. Then just as it would have struck the boat, a great yellow light shone within and scattered the whirlwind apart. The King had struck the eye with the very last energy he possessed—his life force and made silent the storm. But even so, it still wasn’t over, for the remainder of the chaos had yet to come, and was on its way, a great wave sailing at least a hundred feet high.
The Queen heard the roar, felt the danger, saw the rush. In no way, would she survive this. She held her crying child close and looked into her eyes. “Oh, little Ceutaiche, do not be afraid. No harm shall strike you young Goddess; you are the child born among the one-thousandth generation of Cyteria’s royalty. As was promised, you will one day redeem Cyteria from the evil which plagues it.” She put a finger over each sobbing eye and her mouth to Ceutaiche’s mouth, blowing a white mystic breath into her. “I give my life for my child. Please, Angels of righteousness keep her afloat, keep her safe.” The Queen backed off and gazed up at the approaching wave, towering over her like a giant.
A white globe surrounded Ceutaiche.
“I love you my daughter,” she said, holding out her arms, enjoying the feel of the spray. “I now go to be with my husband.”
The great wave hit and all became darkness.
Talvenya burst into tears. "Why did you not help them?” she screamed. "Why? WHY?!"
“This is the past,” the lady responded. “We can do nothing but watch.”
“Then take me to another place! I wish to see this no longer!”
By those very words accompanied by the desperate tone, did the lady in white see there existed warmth and kindness within Talvenya’s heart. “As you wish.”
Early the next morning on a shore, washed up broken pieces of wood, probably once a boat. Beside the clustering wood rested two individuals—the King and Queen of Cyteria, lifelessly lying side-by-side.
Not too far from them, cried the child Ceutaiche, alive and well. The globe her mother encased her in just before the massive wave hit must have given enough oxygen and kept her afloat.
Then, along the beach walked a man—no—an Elf, Athanasius, the Lord of Ashhaven, Talvenya’s adoptive father. Gently, he picked the little girl up, rubbed her brow and she ceased from crying. The elvish lord smiled, naming her ‘Aurora’ then vowed to return to bury the King and Queen after getting the child to a secure place.
“Why did you
show me this?” Talvenya asked.
“As you have witnessed,” the lady began, “You are a princess of Cyteria, a land that once possessed great wisdom and power, knowing more secrets about the earth than any other tribe. Your father and mother were the one-thousandth King and Queen to rule the land’s existence. Prior to that era, there’d been a prophecy proclaiming a great evil soon to rise, enforcing all to worship it or be slain. Terrible war would erupt; lives will be lost, civilizations gone, unless a girl born to Cyteria’s one-thousandth King and Queen would bring about change. It was said she would have great powers no Cyterian had ever seen, a Goddess she would be, a being of natural mastery, having the strength to take on the hand of evil and save her long-lived kingdom. That child is you Talvenya. Or should I say Ceutaiche?”
“I am no being of Light! I am a mistress of the Dark, a sorceress.”
“And why do you think mastering the Blackened Arts came so quickly and easily, compared to others who for years have practiced yet never achieve your level?”
Whipping her hair back, setting both hands on her hips, and casting a dominant stare she answered, “Because I am better.”
“No, it is because deep within lies a Goddess.”
“I have proclaimed myself Goddess for three centuries, even before I became Queen of Asgoth. Long, have I demanded to be worshiped by every living thing on the earth, except my lords. So what?”
“You misunderstand the term, ‘Goddess.’ In no way does it mean you are to be ‘worshipped.’ Rather, it means you hold a fantastic power, strength and authority above the common. As a Cyterian it is expected, or hoped for that you use those gifts to protect life, as you once did when coming across that bear. Compassion shined brightly then. The only reason you changed was because of the Samaeltho who severely corrupted your soul. However, these last few weeks have you not desired mercy for the everyday killings your country commits? Have you not ended the torture Asgoth inflicts upon slaves? Even the animals must suffer under the Dark’s Rule, burning the forests, chasing them out of their homes, killing many caught in the blaze, and for what? Mere pleasure! Mindless greed! Such things you hate, as I have witnessed in your thoughts.”
“This all began when I looked into a certain Elf’s mind,” she retorted, a little startled by the lady’s accuracy. “Kelarin was her name. Ever since then, I have been—infected by emotion.”
“You cannot gaze into a mind of purity and remain untouched. Nevertheless, what she did was merely awaken your sleeping powers. Since then, little by little each day your thoughts have been straying to kindness, respect and compassion toward living things. You yourself know the Dark uses creatures for selfish reasons, only then tosses them away. And the one you proclaim as lord, Abaddon, loves nothing but himself. Even King Tanarokai despises you and attempts to take your life today.”
Her eyes lit up. “WHAT?”
“He foresees what you are becoming, and will take no chance of failing the Demon Lord.”
“Tanarokai wants me—his Queen, DEAD?”
“Think about it, you know this in your heart.”
She did. Tanarokai had been acting hostile toward her ever since she started giving mercy; blamed her for their son’s death, cursed her for abolishing the torture of slaves. In fact, thinking about it now she and him were two totally different people. Would he really want a ‘Dark’ Queen who practices mercy, the very opposite of the Dark’s ideology? “How will he attempt this?” she asked.
“When you awaken you will not be alone in the woods. Even as I speak the assassin lurks, seeking his target.”
“Then awaken me woman, so I may kill him!”
“You will die.”
“I do not fear Tanarokai. I know he is strong, but so am I.”
“It is not he but another, wielding an object of great power.”
Talvenya wondered whom she might be speaking of. What soldier of darkness in their right mind would attempt to challenge the Dark Queen?
“There are only two options,” the lady continued, “Flee Asgoth forever or unleash the Goddess from within.”
“Unleash the—Goddess?”
“Yes. Please do not hide from your calling any longer Ceutaiche. Unleash the Goddess and join the Light in this war.”
She sank to her knees. “I cannot, I am sorry but there is hatred in my heart for the Light.”
“In time that will cease. And you will be drawn back to Cyteria to save the land just as prophesized.”
Talvenya raised her gaze, meeting the lady’s enchanting ice blue eyes. “Save it from what? You never told me the nature of that hideous beast.”
“I do not know. My gift has limitations as well, and I am not permitted to look everywhere. But that battle shall be another time, if we are to survive the Second Great War. As of now, Abaddon remains the greatest threat. If he wins, you will never find peace in your heart—ever. The world shall become what even you would truly despise. Please Ceutaiche, please come back to the Light; engage the teachings Lord Athanasius taught you long ago. Your heart has not forgotten.”
Thrice now the lady called her Ceutaiche and Talvenya had to admit there seemed to be a certain power in her voice whenever she spoke the name, a power attempting to draw out the ‘Goddess’ within.
The lady in white came closer, staring straight into the Queen’s now timid violet gaze, causing Talvenya to scarcely breathe from the presence. “Release the Goddess dear child.” While she said this, everything faded.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
COLD VENGEANCE
Talvenya awoke withdrew her blanket and sat up. The morning dew saturated the ground and brush, and she pinched herself to make sure the bizarre dream had passed. She went over to the river, cupped some of the cold water into her hands and splashed her face, then gazed at her reflection. “A dream, that is all. Just a vivid dream.”
There came a noise in the woodlands not far away, a noise like two individuals walking, tearing through brush and at a fast pace.
She thought back to the dream when the lady warned of assassination, how the prowler would be searching for her ‘this very moment.’ Yet it was only a dream, wasn't it?
Unsure what to do, she stepped off the embankment, slipping into the river. The current seemed slow and the water deep. If there is truth in the lady's warning, then there seemed no point in these assassins spotting her first. She needed to know with whom she might be dealing with. Though now, she regretted abandoning her magic staff at the castle, wanting nothing to do with it then. Yet the staff brings out her greatest power and from the words of the lady regarding this warrior of darkness wielding a great weapon, she may need all the help possible. For the first time since she could remember fear crept into her soul, and the feeling made her laugh, because it’d been so long—too long since it’d been present.
The footsteps came closer and closer until they ceased at the spot where she’d been asleep, no longer than ten minutes ago. She debated peeking up for a quick glance. Who—what were they and why does—one feel so familiar in presence, like someone from the past?
“Talvenya,” came a voice, slow, seductive, ringing through her ears. “I know you are hiding. Come out. Do not make me hunt you, precious one.”
Her eyes widened, jaw dropped, for there’d be no mistaking the voice. She couldn’t believe it and had to see for herself. Out of the water she came, her long raven hair drenched, her black dress and shiny boots dripping wet.
Before her stood one she could never forget, the lord of the Samaeltho, Lord Ormehthone, the only Samaeltho she didn’t kill. He’d been another she called ‘father’ this creature who’d been the sole corrupter of her spirit. He stood very tall, about eight feet…quite unusual for an Elf with dark skin, yellow-green eyes and overly long pointed ears that ended in a sharp curve as if they were horns. His black dreadlock hair and a face resembling a serpent or reptile, which is how the Samaeltho commonly appeared. Though despite it all, admittedly he’d always been attractive—his eerie s
educing eyes.
Talvenya’s glare remained bent on him. “You!” she hissed.
“Precious one, my creation. It has been a long time dear child.”
“You are not my father.”
“Now now, dearest mistress, I trained you and taught you everything. There is not a dark deed among you I cannot take credit for, my love. And how did you repay me? By annihilating my people and taking my fertility!” Slowly, he shook a finger at her.
Talvenya remembered, she’d created a dagger, fashioning the steel with such strange unique ingredients she received from foreigners. Then mixing them in with ancient and rare gemstones, melting the elements together within the molten liquid before shaping it into a weapon, and finally placed a spell of infertility amongst the blade. Becoming Ormehthone's mistress for one night only, which he allowed because of her seduction, she took advantage of the situation and castrated him. She wanted that ‘monster’ to suffer for all the pain he caused. Death seemed just too simple. And being aware he might find a way to heal his wound, the spell taken directly from the Blackened Arts Book of Moloch made sure he could not, it became irreversible.
Being immortal and never able to have sexual relations again—Ormehthone’s most greatest pleasure, or unable to breed in order to restart his race, especially after witnessing his people wiped out, seemed like the perfect revenge.
"Tell me, Ormehthone," she mocked, casting a grin. "What is it like to be the sole survivor of your kind for all these years?"
He made no response.
This only caused Talvenya to grin even more."Well then, how about the inability to enter into anything sacred as this?" She swayed a hand down along her belly stopping between her legs, caressing that area of ‘sacredness,’ watching his gaze follow. “Lonely, are we?”
“Heh, heh, heh. Oh dearest, witness the one beside me and you will see what madness you drove me to, what revenge I thought up.”
