Wings of Light Special Edition

by Lloyd Baron

  “Men we move,” he yells. None of the stunned soldiers around him shift and he lets them be. He takes two steps when a single thought becomes coherent. He stumbles to his knees and great sobs shudder through him, the woman must be put on trial. And she will be hanged.

  Katilena takes a sip from a silver goblet. It’s a good V’et red, and studies the group before her. Three children in dirty rags are huddled on the floor of her dining room. She slowly takes another sip and places the wine down beside her soup. She twists her mouth at the hideous mixture of vegetables and gives the bowl a shove, spilling some over the pure white lace tablecloth. She groans to herself and adjusts her hair before looking back at the children. “So,” she begins. “I need one of you to do me a favor. I need one of you to escape.” Two of them look up at her, something close to hope reflecting in their eyes but it is the third one she is interested in.

  She is a small girl with pale skin and almost white blond hair. As dirty as she is now, she still holds a regal air about her. And so she should for she is the Princess of Common.

  “Grendel,” Katilena purrs as she pushes the chair beside her away from the table. “Royalty should not huddle on the floor. Please sit.”

  She lifts her face slowly and Katilena sees why she had tried to keep it hidden. Defiance burns strongly in her, and she now meets the Witch’s stare, but does not rise. “I will remain where I am,” she says in a solid tone. Katilena almost laughs but she schools herself to calm. She waits for a few seconds before kicking out her own chair and grabbing all three of them in a web of air. The two other girls begin to sob softly, but Grendel maintains her composure.

  “You will choose which of these you think will be best to take the message I need delivered to your father.” She barely holds her temper as the rotten girl simply smiles at her. “If that is your choice!” she hears herself scream, her own composure not holding as that of this girl of nine suns. “Then I will need to give you something to think about.” The thin webs become thick ropes, and the two girls either side of Grendel grasp their throats as they are lifted to the vaulted ceiling. Grendel shudders, and tears spill down her cheeks, though she still just stares defiantly. Katilena cuts the cord holding her, and two guards move into the room to remove her. She sighs and settles back to her wine, staring once at the children who hang lifeless from her ceiling. She will bring two more each day until that little brat gives in. A strong will is not what she needs if she is going to bleed the little whore into the void.

  The entire palace seems to shake and her goblet topples over. She gets to her feet and sweeps over to a large window overlooking forest. Far to the north she can see a plume of black smoke rising behind the mountains. Perhaps that is an omen. She smiles to herself as she rings a silver bell. A maid appears in the doorway and drops a deep curtsey. “Fetch me more wine,” she says retaking her seat. “Oh, and send in the cook. This soup needs explaining.”

  ***

  A hint of a thought flickers into being, Crashing waters, sweep a body against the rocks at the base of the spire which once housed the great Angel City.

  Who? Is what begins. How? The new thought drifts close to the first. Images tumble over themselves, great beasts forming from fire, giants made of the earth, winged snakes crackling with lightning and armies of men upon horses made from woven grass. A bear: an elf: taking flight on a dragon: the howling laughter of a beautiful and demented woman: falling through the air towards death: dancing corpses of tiny birds: a lagoon deep within a forest: the face of a girl who cries and the absolute hatred of being close to her.

  The pictures fragment and shatter across the sea of Gossamal. Eyes snap open and stare into the night sky, the steady rhythm of the waves knocking the body against the rocks. Two voices echo over each other as they speak the same words from the mouth of the corpse. “Who am I?”

  Memories of kings and of the old world flood across the mind of the voice as simple duties of a farm hand buckle under their weight but it is the mind of the child who had died at the hands of his friends that screams the loudest.

  Damilayas gasps a breath and in that moment he feels the soul of the Dark Wizard scream and withdraws. He raises his arms and stares at the stumps where hands should be. Thick black oil pulses from the lifeless body, swirling down the arms and fingers flex and open as the power of decay forms into hands. He will need to wear gloves.

  The thought makes him laugh as the body he now inhabits crashes once again into the rocks. Somewhere he feels the soul of Razzork form into a twisted phantom, much as he had once been. But not anymore. He can still remember much of the Dark Wizards life, for they had joined briefly during their struggle against each other for this body. He had won. He marvels at his victory over the beast. Even though this body is dead it is his to move, to animate in any way he wishes. And his first wish is to return home and see his family.

  Clayton Cr’aig strides through the trees of the Forest of Erther, although he believes that the humans have another name for it. His knees protest slightly but they are healing nicely. The longer he spends in the world the better he becomes. His skin is softer, greener; his limbs supple and strong. The soft warm sunlight filters gently through the thick canopy and warms his face. The world is a wonder. He has always enjoyed the world.

  Hundreds of Woodland Elementals flood from the forest around him. They all look old and worn. Many of them hobble like the elderly, nursing backs and knees, muttering bitter words at the state of themselves and those around them. At first he had tried to sooth them, calm them about their aches, tell them that they would improve the longer they spent in the forests. They had not listened to him of course. They continued to moan over his words even though he could see them improving before his eyes. Now many of those who had been bent and staggering are hail and still they whimper and moan. Sometimes he despairs at the trees. Ancient as they are they do not age well and they can hold a grudge for centuries.

  From across the glade he sees a sight that warms his sap. A beautiful creature sweeps from the trees. She wears a gown of sewn white flowers and butterflies swarm about her like drifting petals. He raises a long branch like arm to get her attention. He realizes then that he has not dressed himself. Most of the tree people around him walk only in their bark. It is the natural way of things but some of them back in the times before became accustomed to wearing flowers about themselves. He had enjoyed the scent of moss and earth; he grew a suit all over himself and trimmed it with tiny pink flowers at the cuffs and neck like lace.

  He drops back out of sight and walks away from the swarming butterflies. She must not see him naked and old. The forest he is in has a carpet of soft spongy moss, a yellow color tinged with green. He has never been fond of yellow but it would have to do. He carefully lowers himself to the ground and begins to work the magic within the Mana trail of nature. The moss crawls up his legs and begins to weave around him. He smiles as it tickles gently over his bark. Soon the moss settles and he stands. He now wears a perfect set of garments. A long coat which hangs almost to his knees with breast pockets and a high collar; boots laced with grass and a hooded cloak tumbles from his back. The yellow catches the sun and seems to shimmer. He smiles to himself. She will think him silly for hiding but she does not need to hear those details.

  “Are you hiding from me?” A song-like voice whispers from behind him. Clayton spins around a little startled. He feels instantly foolish of his actions and has a right mind to let the garments fall back to the soil. He does not do that though. What he does is bow slightly and let the moss at his cuffs grow into a lacy hanky which he gestures with.

  “Moonwell,” he coos. “You are radiant.”

  “Oh stop that,” she purrs but her eyes have lit up at his words. “Were you hiding from me?” She repeats with a causal gesture back to the trail they had been following. “I saw you raise a hand and started your way and then you ducked in here.”

  “Hiding! Why would I do that?” He is aware that his voice went up a
pitch at the end and he mentally kicks himself. “I simply saw this moss and thought it would make a fine set of garments that is all.”

  Moonwell’s pale brown eyes appraise him for a moment and then she seems satisfied with whatever she has decided. She more than likely does not believe his story but she will never tell him what she is thinking. As she stands before him, her petite mouth twitching at a hidden smile he takes his first real look at the creature in front of him. She is slightly shorter than him but that would be tall for a human female. Her skin is a soft silvery white with tiny hairline cracks making patterns and peeling slightly here and there like that of her tree. She is slender but shapely with long limbs and gentle green foliage cascading from her head, the leaves of which are also silvery. Her face is soft and set with perpetual joy. The gown she has woven clings to her bosom and hips before flaring out to trail along the ground. The butterflies he notices have all settled upon her and look like a ruff around her neck. She seems to notice his study of her and she nervously tucks a few stray leaves behind her ears.

  She reaches out and takes hold of his arm. “We should not delay,” she says as she leads him back to the trail. “This is an important time.” She gently strokes the moss of his coat as they stroll like two old lovers back onto the path and into the sea of woodland elementals. Some of those which pass give them funny looks, some are smiles but most are frowns. They are a funny race of beings.

  “Do you remember that glade we visited, oh it seems like forever ago?” She pulls him closer to her so that their bodies are touching. “It had the most wonderful carpet of yellow daisies. I clearly remember you stating that of all the colors in the natural world that yellow was by far the worst,” she giggles to herself as she reveals in his lie. “I think you also mentioned something else about it but my mind has yet fully formed and I cannot quite remember it.”

  Clayton grins broadly. He should not have even tried to hide anything from her. Her mind is as sharp as a woodcutters axe and just as deadly. He signs loudly for the effect of it and gives her a slight squeeze. “I said I would rather cover my bark in the black flowers of the forest of X’oded in Dinthiv. Even though they are poisonous and would cause me pain. At least they would look regal.”

  “And you can never look regal in buttercup yellow,” she finishes with a tinkling laugh. “Oh you are a silly old thing Clayton. But I have missed you.”

  “And I you, Moon. It was so long ago that we walked upon the world. Life here is different.” A melancholy feeling begins to settle across him. The lives of the Elementals are complex. They have existed for eternity. They were the beings who shaped the world, who gave it life. They followed the design of the God who summoned them but it was they who built and sculpted it to perfection. Once it was complete they took mortal forms to live on its surface so they could tweak the finer points before the God placed his peoples upon it. Things did not run like that however. Only five of the great spirits took form that first time. Later they would be known as the Elemental Monarchs but at that time they were simply the first to arrive. They walked the nameless world fixing and growing it into perfection. It was then that they stumbled upon a glade of huge trees in the middle of a burning desert. The Elemental of fire wanted to burn them away as he claimed they had no place within the heat and sand. Earth agreed that they were out of place and should be removed or at the least altered. Woodland refused to change the beautiful trees and asked what harm they were. Water sided with her as they always do and claimed that even in the harsh desert there is a space for nature to bloom. Wind held up her hands and claimed that she was neutral in the matter.

  Without warning the Elemental of fire raged up and burned the trees from the world. The others were shocked by his actions, even Earth who had sided with him, for these had been the only trees of their type and he had removed all trace of them. They were lost forever. The Woodlands cried with the loss and they lashed out at the desert. They grew from every side, eating it away, casting shade over the harsh place. Fire became angry and tried to hold back the growth but he was just one. He relented and let the desert become a vast forest. His only place in the world was a single mountain in the far north which was filled with molten magma.

  They returned to their places and called more of their kind into the world. It was not yet ready and would take all of them working together to finish it to perfection. They had not heard from the God who had summoned them which was unusual but they were not of a mind to question the thinking of a God. They carried on growing and burning, shifting the lands and spreading the rivers and oceans. This went on for hundreds of suns and soon they tired. Had they been forgotten? Was this world no longer needed? Why had it been so long?

  The first of them, the oldest and wisest, decided to meet to discuss the situation. This was the first time they had been together since that day the desert had died. Morrowseed, the Eternal Life, Queen of the Woodlands created a glade for them to meet. It was high upon a mountain with views of the ocean and the rush of the wind between the branches. Only fire was missing from her design. Fairrinnia, the Shifting Breeze, Queen of the Fairies, arrived second and welcomed her sister with a flurry of petals and sweet scents. Then came Sol’din, the Relentless Mountain, King of the Gnomes and he grew a throne for each of them from the very rock. Forth to arrive was Caressa, the Sweeping Waters, Queen of the Undine and see lifted the seas into a great sphere and placed it in front of the sun and magnified its warmth upon them. There they waited for the last of them to arrive. Time shifted and they grew impatient with him. They were about to depart when he arrived. Magmass, the Raging Inferno, Lord over the Imps, came from the sky and swept his flames about him. The trees burned, the scents were tainted, the thrones in which they had sat melted and become of glass and the heat of the sun was devoured by the heat of his gift. He laughed that day and exclaimed that they could not be angry with him for they had brought a gift of their element and so had he. Was it his fault if fire does not have a place amongst the trees and the delicate breeze, with the toughened sand or the gentle waves? He roared that they were abandoned and the world which was their prison was now their world. He took to the sky, burning it red with his flames and it was then that they noticed the smoke from the lands below. For as they had sat and waited for his arrival he had sent armies to burn the lands they held as their own. It began the first war of the Elementals and it was not to be the last.

  After that day the others banded together. Fire was pushed back and he retook his mountain in the north. It was then that God spoke to them and they returned to the world between, the world of the spirits to wait for the next world they would create. But here in this world they have no form, no life to speak of, and no names to call. They are but energy stored within a box. Sometimes a thought will come over one of them, an idea remembered from their time spent upon a world. They crave to live but know that they cannot for they are the tools of the Gods and they have a purpose greater then a shallow life upon a world. However, that does not make those memories of lives less sacred or the desire to live again less real.

  “What is on your mind dear Clayton, you have gone awfully quiet.”

  Moonwell’s sudden question spears through his bleak thoughts and he brightens somewhat. “I was thinking about time. When we return it always feels like no time and all time has passed. I can remember things that happened the first time we walked upon the world before the humans were placed. Those days seem like they could have happened only yesterday. Then I struggle to remember something from the last time we came here which was less than two hundred sun ago by human terms.”

  Moonwell pouts and gives him a shove. He laughs to himself and she drags him closer to her again. He wraps an arm about her shoulders and they continue to stroll. The presents of the other Woodland Elementals forgotten. “I am sorry for teasing you my dear,” he says once he has regained his composure.

  “And so you should. As I recall that time you have mentioned was when we decided to test out that thi
ng the humans so enjoy. It was delightful in a way but mostly it was just plain fun and a little naughty.” Her bright voice dispels all of his dark thoughts and he lowers his arm to encircle her waist. She gives him a surprised look before cuddling down into his moss. “I do so miss you when we do not exist.”

  “And I miss you. I miss all of this,” he sweeps his free arm around him at the forest and the Woodland Elementals. “It is so very strange that we are eternal in spirit and yet we have lived for such a short time in mortal bodies.”

  “It is not the way of things. We are creators not livers,” she scowls at her own use of words. “You know what I mean.”

  “Yes. And yet I would love to give up all of eternity to spend the rest of a mortal life here within the world, within the forests with you.” The words come out of his mouth so fast that he does not have time to think clearly on what he is saying. They are the tools of the Gods, without them no worlds could be made and yet here he is stating that he would turn his back upon all of Valarlorn for a normal life with a female. Moonwell's reaction is not what he is expecting. She grabs hold of both of his limbs and drags him close to her. The cascade of vines and leaves that make up her hair tangle across him as she brings her face close to his and places her soft lips against his rough bark mouth. This is what the humans call a kiss and it is a joyous thing to do.

  She lets go of him and staggers back, slightly breathless. Many of the Woodland Elementals around them have stopped. Some look shocked even appalled by the kiss but most try to hide smiles and even a few look upon them with desire to have a moment like that. Moonwell comes to her senses first and retakes his arm. He feels himself being dragged along before he can get his legs working again. “We said that we should only do that in a private location,” he stutters as they move towards the opening in the trail.