Wanderer

by Nancy E. Dunne

  “Yes you will!” the dragon roared as a curling bolt of flame shot from his nose and danced along the floor toward the three of them like a lit fuse as they moved out of its path. Gaelin followed along, finding himself marveling at the magic possessed by the enormous creature. They were kindred spirits in a way, and had been at this business of magic for a long time. However, unlike the dragon, Gaelin had only ever sought to use his power and training for good.

  “May you never realize your dream, Lord Taanyth,” he whispered as he followed the trio out the doors and back along the corridors, assumedly headed for the room where Gin had been kept.

  “Keep moving, Gin,” Dorlagar barked. “You could at least show some fear when you are being tested. Something to make Lord Taanyth think he is getting somewhere since this one,” he said, shoving Taeben forward, “isn’t making progress on the spell.”

  “I won’t play your game,” Gin replied, her voice tight and pinched. The spell had done some damage, but she seemed unwilling to reveal that. Gaelin was again very proud of this little wood elf, and thought how proud the Fabled Ones would be of her if they knew. “I wasn’t afraid.”

  “She wasn’t afraid of Taanyth,” Taeben snapped. She was just disgusted by you,” Taeben said, and even as he spoke, he wondered why he was sticking up for the druid.

  “As are we all, in truth,” said Gaelin as he appeared behind them. Dorlagar nearly toppled over backward in surprise, giving Gin the advantage she needed to grab for his sword with her still-bound hands and push him down with her boot. The elder wizard smiled at her, and then pointed a slender finger at Gin’s wrists and the rope burst into flame, freeing her. “Well done, my girl. Now then, for you,” he said, turning to Taeben as Gin leaped on top of Dorlagar, sword raised.

  She took a deep breath and without another word, plunged the sword downward into a very surprised Dorlagar’s neck, leaving him gurgling and staring up at her in confusion. As she tightened her grip the hilt, she leaned down close to him and smoothed the hair off his forehead. “Go, be with your Raedea,” she whispered as she tugged at the blade, removing it from the wound as the light went out of Dorlagar’s eyes. She stood still a moment, looking down at him and imagining him reuniting with his sister on the other side.

  After tearing his gaze away from the carnage behind him, Taeben rubbed his wrists. “I appreciate that, Gaelin,” he said, eyeing the mage cautiously, “but I do not understand why you have done it.”

  “You are my kin; we are both sons of Alynatalos. You are a prisoner here, just as I was, Taeben,” Gaelin said. “I could not leave my brother wizard to rot if I had a chance to make it right.” He leaned in close to Taeben, changing his language to Elder Elvish so that Gin would not understand him. “You have a chance to make right the wrongs you have committed while being held here, my brother. Do not help the evil of Lord Taanyth and the dragonkind that follow him to spread any further. Do not forget the lessons learned in the Forest Wars. Take this wood elf back to her kind and then use your freedom to do good things.”

  “I am sure that I have no idea what you mean,” Taeben said as he stepped in between Gaelin and Gin, who was still standing over Dorlagar’s body, a solemn look on her tiny face. “What else would I do but take care of her?” Her eyes were vacant. “Ginny, you need to transport yourself out of here, yes? If they find you here with his body they will kill you.” He took her shoulders and turned her around. “Do you hear me? I will take care of myself and Gaelin. Just go.” She stared up at him, eyes blank and unseeing for a moment. “Never killed anything before, have you?” he said, clucking his tongue and then spoke magical words of transport to the Forest, just below her tree city home. A ring of fire appeared around Gin’s body and then she just disappeared. “Now then, you were saying?” he asked as he turned back to Gaelin.

  “What are you playing at, Taeben?” Gaelin asked as he raised an eyebrow at his fellow wizard.

  “Nothing, Gaelin. I am just tired of being left behind when rescue parties come, I guess. What made you so special that they took you and not me? Why did Nelenie make it out of here in one piece,” he said, clenching his fists by his side as his voice rose, “and I stayed here to suffer? Do you know what they do if you do not comply, Gaelin? Of course you do, you were a test subject.” Taeben smiled menacingly. “A particularly tenacious one if I remember correctly.” He took a step toward Gaelin and frowned when the older wizard did not back away.

  “You are free now, my brother. Your choices are between you and your deity now,” Gaelin said as he smoothed out his robes with his willowy hands, their near translucence a stark contrast with the ruby red color of his robes now that the protection of his magic had dropped away. “I do not need you to port me out, I can do that myself. Have you enough strength to get yourself to freedom?”

  “Alas, I do not,” Taeben said, licking his lips and smiling at Gaelin. “Will you permit me to cast a spell that will allow me to use some of yours?” Gaelin nodded, a suspicious smile on his face. He held out an arm, watching Taeben warily. Taeben took Gaelin’s arm in his hand, then closed his eyes to recite the spell. For a moment, both of them stood still, eyes closed, as magical energy flowed between them. Suddenly Gaelin’s eyes flew open.

  “Stop this, Taeben,” he commanded, but Taeben held fast to his arm. “STOP! You are taking too much!”

  “No, just enough I think,” Taeben whispered, his eyes still closed. As his grip tightened, Gaelin struggled but could not free himself. Taeben’s eyes opened and his gaze held Gaelin’s own. His silvery eyes blazed and his face split into a maniacal grin. “Just enough. Goodbye, Gaelin,” he said as he let go of the arm of the now dead mage. “You’re right, my choices are my own.” He kicked the corpse to the side and then spoke magical words that would transport him to the forest. He had much work to do and he needed the druid. “See you soon, Ginny,” he whispered. “Forest!” Clapping his hands above his head, he disappeared in a flash of light and flame, leaving Gaelin’s body to stare with its dead eyes up at the night sky.

  Twenty-Three

  Gin lay in the grass in the forest for a long time. When she found that she could close her eyes and not immediately see Dorlagar’s dead eyes staring at her in her mind’s eye, she sat up. She had taken lives before while hunting with Naevys. That part was not new. However, she had never taken the life of one unarmed…or one that was a friend. But was Dorlagar a friend? Gin rubbed her eyes with the heels of her hands. She felt as though the fabric of her soul had been ripped to shreds.

  Everything that she knew, everything that made her who she was had been destroyed in that one moment, that one act. She couldn’t even remember making the conscious decision to attack him. There was no memory of the planning of the attack, no thought to make sure she would knock him down. She had seen her chance and known what she had to do and that was all there was to it.

  What did that mean for her now? Was she a killer? Was she a martyr? Was she a hero? Gin moved her hands from her eyes and focused pressure on her throbbing temples with her fingers. As she continued the small, circular movement, she let her thoughts wander to Taeben.

  Admittedly, her memories of him were through the filters of childhood, so the coldness of his demeanor may have seemed more exaggerated than it truly was. In addition, to find that he had been hunting with Nelenie before she was banished… Gin recalled long nights huddled around the campfire with Nelenie and Dorlagar, swapping stories of their past. She never had much to add, but the others had fantastical tales of glory in battle. Had Nelenie ever mentioned Taeben by name? She honestly could not remember.

  She remembered how taken she was with Taeben when she was only a child. Often, if she was playing with Nelenie and Taeben joined them, Gin would become so enthralled with him that she could not speak, and he would tease her about it. As they grew older, she saw his attention turn toward Nelenie, and then he was gone for his training. She hadn’t thought of him in ages, but now here he was…his part in the dragon’s plot
troubled her greatly.

  Gin’s mind swam. It was all too much. All of these different parts of her life were converging, like streams running toward the sea, and at the joining points, there seemed to be the most awful turbulent waters. Nelenie had been in those dreadful cells like Taeben and Gaelin…and Teeand and Sathlir, apparently, if their tales were to be believed.

  Sath. The sparkling teal eyes appeared in her mind’s eye now, pleading with her to trust him, to forgive him. However, right on the heels of that memory was the vivid recollection of the scene on the drawbridge, the showdown between Sath and Dor. Every bit the Bane of the Forest in that moment, she had seen Sath for what he truly was…and wasn’t. Why had he warned her before he struck? Why had he come for her when Dor held her prisoner? Was he just trying to make right an age old wrong between himself and her kind? She was certain that he was not just trying to gain an advantage over her so that he could return to his former ways and kill her. The thought of Sath harming her on purpose caused a strange pain in her chest that she had not felt before. However, that pain was nothing compared to what followed when she realized how her choice to stay behind in the ruined castle must have appeared to her friends…to Sath.

  This had to be put right, but how? Gin gnawed on her fingernail for a moment, losing herself to a memory of her mother correcting her for that bad habit. “How will you attract a mate when you act like an animal, Ginolwenye?” she whispered, a melancholy grin spreading across her face. “I suppose you will take up with the beasts before you will find a good wood elf male!”

  Again Sath’s face barged in on Gin’s musing. He was not a beast, not really, even though she had accused him of that more than once. He was a good male, a male of much worth, and she had to be fooling herself to think that her actions had made a bit of difference in his life. He and the Fabled Ones were probably at the tavern in the Outpost right now, laughing over pints of ale and planning their next adventure…without her.

  Gin glanced back over toward the towering edifice of Alynatalos and noticed someone on the path. Her heart caught in her throat as she recognized the voice. It was Taeben, and he was free! He had not noticed her yet. She was not sure if she was ready to approach him, though; his deeds at the behest of that dragon were still fresh in her mind and she found that now, looking at him, she was a bit afraid of him. She quickly spoke magical words of camouflage and blended into the background so that she would be able to move closer, and nearly gave herself away, for when she saw the condition that Taeben was in she gasped. He looked up, but seeing no one returned to his musing.

  His hair, as red as the crimson berries that Gin had collected as a child for her mother’s oatmeal, was now a shock of white. His face was pointed and sunken, as though he had not eaten in some time. His robes hung on him, much the way that Gaelin’s had when they found him. Gaelin. Gin’s mind raced. Why had Taeben transported her out without the elder mage? She was not able to understand what they were saying to each other in the Keep because they were speaking the dialect of the high elves, but she had felt that something was wrong. Now, to look at Taeben from a distance, she could have mistaken him for Gaelin. As she pondered that thought, he dashed off into the forest. Gin decided to follow him.

  She kept up with him until he ran into the cave cut into the mountain that joined the Forest to the Grasslands. Gin doubled back and darted into the cave, almost colliding with Taeben who was seated there in the dark, meditating and chanting in a low voice. The words were an elder form of Elvish, and she was frustrated that she could not understand all of them. Finally, he stood, his chanting growing louder, and a bright white light began to coalesce around him. It started as a cloud clinging to his feet, then spread until it covered the whole of his body. Gin stepped back a bit, shielding her eyes from the unearthly glow. Finally, it faded and she gaped at what she saw.

  Taeben stood before her; red hair pulled back in a ponytail and his deep blue robe hugging the contours of his now healthy and filled out frame. He stared right at her as though he could see her. Gin started to suspect that he could, actually, and began backing out of the cave. He smiled at her, holding up one of his slender hands.

  “I can’t let you just leave after what you’ve seen, Ginny,” he said, his voice seeming to resonate in her mind rather than her ears. “No one would believe tales about a wizard that can do what I can do, now would they? Far too dangerous.” He moved toward her, his hands up and palms open, and then there was a bright flash of light. When Gin next opened her eyes, she was again in the grass where she had been before.

  “Could I have dreamed…what did I…?” Gin wracked her mind but drew a blank. There was something clinging to the edge of her consciousness, a memory of…Taeben? She hoped that he and Gaelin had made it out of the ruined castle. Gin shook her head to clear it, got to her feet and pulled out a map to plot a journey to the Outpost. There was much to apologize for with the Fabled Ones, and her first stop would be the great hall. The image of Sath coming out of the shadows in the healing pool flitted through her mind, and for the first time Gin felt safe and warm in that memory. Perhaps her amends should start with the Qatu.

  Several weeks Later…

  Shhhink. Shhhink. The room was silent, save the sound of the sharpening stone honing the blades of Sath’s clawed weapons. A single candle illuminated the corner of the room in the great hall where the Qatu sat, hunched over a table. Spread out before him was a collection of weapons, all sharpened to a deadly accuracy.

  Shhhink. Shhhink. Gin’s image floated through his mind for a moment, and he paused his work to consider her. Into the scene in his mind entered Dorlagar, and Sath watched as the human wrapped himself around her like an octopus. A low growl emitted from Sath’s throat as he clenched his fist, not noticing as the blades cut into the tender flesh of his hand. The image faded as the pain shot up his arm, catching his attention and causing him to howl in pain. He threw the stone to the ground next to where he had already dropped the weapon, then grabbed a tunic lying close by to stop the bleeding.

  How had that wretched wood elf wormed her way into his soul, her tiny fingers nearly clutching his heart? Sath knew how. He had read her diary so many times and been seared to his core by the emotions she had written about. He too had lost his family, and had been lost in the world. He too had been seeking some way to make that wrong right, and had taken many wrong paths in that quest. Raedea had seen that lost young one still in him and had helped him get started back on the right path, but he had failed her. How Elysiam, who found him bleeding at the lift at by Aynamaede, had managed to see through her own fear to bring him to the Fabled Ones was a mystery.

  No mystery, really, Sath mused. Elysiam isn’t scared of anything. How different she was from Gin. Again, the image of the druid filled his mind and heart and he ached to see her again. He could not imagine how she could stay with that human. His thoughts shifted to Gin as prisoner in the Keep; and to what the human had done to her in the name of his dark Lord, Taanyth. We went in to save you from that, nearly got ourselves killed, and you thank us by staying, he thought. The familiar bloodlust creeped in around Sath’s vision and his teal eyes narrowed. If we find that you have escaped from your human lover, we should make you pay, Gin, he thought, ignoring the pain in his chest that accompanied the thought. I will make you pay. Suddenly the hair on the back of his neck stood up, indicating that someone was watching him. “Be gone,” he grumbled without turning around.

  “Looks like you’ve sharpened that one quite enough, Sath,” a familiar female voice said from behind him. Sath closed his eyes, willing himself to be calm before he turned around.

  “I said, be gone, wood elf,” he snarled. His heart felt as though it would split in half. Part of him wanted to run to her and grab her up in his arms, but an equally insistent part of him wanted to rip her to shreds. He kept his attention on the sharpening stone in order to keep from closing the space between them, but his heart was in his throat.

  “I only want
to talk to you, Sath,” she said, taking a hesitant step closer to him. “If you hear what I have to say and still wish me to leave, I will.”

  “I have nothing to say to you, Gin,” Sath said, his voice not much more than a growl. “Say what you came to say and then leave.” He finally turned to face her, and nearly dropped to his knees at the sight of her.

  She was clothed from head to toe in what looked like black chain mail armor. Tiny vines of carefully crafted steel wound around her arms, and the same vines coiled down her slender legs on her boots. As she moved, he now noticed, the soft chink-chink of her mail tunic almost sounded like tiny bells. Her hair was loose, out of its standard ponytail and flowing down her back. All of the wounds inflicted at the hands of Dorlagar, Lord Taanyth, and even Sath himself seemed to be healed. She took a step closer, and he tensed, flexing his injured hand. “Does that mean you will listen to me?”

  “Do I have a choice? And how do I know you’re who you say you are, or that you’ve returned to do anything more than kill me where I stand? Perhaps it would be safer,” Sath snarled, “for BOTH of us if you return to your human lover and leave me be, as I asked?”

  Instead of running as he hoped she would, she took another step closer to him. She cocked her head to one side, studying him. “What’s with the black armor, Sath?”

  Sath smiled. “Ah, you noticed that. Dyed black, compliments of the blood of more wood elves than I’d care to count, my dear.” He grinned as she paled at his comment, though a pain shot through his heart. “It seems that your kind aren’t as generous and honest as you made me think, my dear Gin. If one I loved…we trusted as much as the Fabled Ones trusted you could betray us the way you did, then it seems we are safe from none of them.”

  “How many?” she asked, her voice barely audible.

  Sath grinned as he took a step closer to her. He had never noticed it before, but he could smell the fear on her. “Many,” he whispered. “Many such as you, pretty little druids and rangers.” He took another step closer, a bit annoyed that she was not moving away. “All of them dead, as dead as you are to me.”