by Joseph Lallo
Myranda climbed from the cold ground to the edge of the sled. The cold would be distracting, and she could not afford that right now. She had found Ivy, she could find the others the same way. She clutched her staff, closed her eyes, and opened her mind. Ivy's essence flickered weakly beside her, and upon her lap was curled the small, pure spirit of Myn. She spread her consciousness. As her mind swept outward, she could feel the mountainside scattering her concentration more and more as it crept further south. Finally there came a mountain beyond which all else was obscured. This, no doubt, was the same mountain that the cave of the beast wound through, leading to Entwell. She shifted her focus. The faint, defeated souls of the people of her land glinted like stars reflected in a glassy lake, save one. One burned like a sun, drowning out those that surrounded. Ether. She strained to see more, but ever outward there was the same until her mind swept across the vast darkness that was the sea beyond the western shore. Nothing offered even a whisper of the strength that she had felt in Ivy, or that she had seen in Ether. Not even Lain could be seen. Here and there a presence seemed to flick in and out of sight, like an insect flitting past. Nothing more revealed itself.
The mountainside and its unique ability to blind the mind's eye concealed most of the south from her. There was the chance that what she sought could be found there. She focused harder. There had to be a way to look beyond. She strained, pulling and stretching her mind with all of her might. Slowly, agonizingly so, she could feel her vantage point changing, moving forward. The shift was accompanied by a peculiar feeling. It felt something like she was losing her balance, but in a far more profound and fundamental way. Whispers of the stronger souls to the south peeked tantalizingly at the edge of the hazy disruption the mountain caused.
Suddenly the feeling of disorientation grew a thousand fold. She felt as though she was falling. At the same time, all semblance of physical distraction dropped away. The cold, the sound of the wind at the cave's mouth, all vanished. The faint flickers around her became infinitely more vivid. The spirits of the people of the villages, once barely detectable, now shone brilliantly. Between them, and indeed everywhere around her, was a general glow. It was fluid and alive, shifting like wind. Tight clusters of black voids seemed to draw in this ambient glow. The nearmen. Three voids stood out among them. One was in the distance, where she reasoned the capital must be. Another was far to the west. The third was in a field, not far from her. Also in the field was something she could not immediately identify. It was muted, weaker than it seemed it should be, but undeniably there. It was Lain. He was concealing his spirit somehow, but it was certainly him. A similar essence, muted and concealed, was further to the west. Another Chosen? She tried to focus more intently on this unknown form, but her mind had reached its limit. It didn't matter. She had a direction. She had hope. For now, that would be enough.
She tried to release her concentration. Instead of the world rushing in, she felt the tumbling, spinning disorientation increase. She felt as though she was slipping away. Quickly she focused again, trying to get her bearings. A realization swiftly dawned upon her. She was viewing the world as though she were high above the field to the west of the mountainside. She was not in the cave. She was not in her body.
For the first time she turned her attentions to herself. She tried to move, but the muscles she tried to manipulate did not exist. She moved only when she willed it so, manipulating her 'body' solely through magic. She was unconstrained by the physical world, drifting to and fro according to her mind's desire. Though the motion was easy enough to master, it was not effortless. She could feel her focus weakening. She did not know what would happen to her if she weakened to the point that she lacked the will to move. She didn't want to find out. Desperately she searched for her body, but in this state only magic and spirit were visible, and her body had none. Instead she sought out Myn.
The dragon remained faithfully on her lap, and with the familiar essence to guide her, Myranda's spirit reached her body. The very instant she slipped her astral limbs into her physical ones she jerked into full consciousness. She was cold. Very cold. Her body must have been near death during her absence, leaving her chilled to the core. She began to tremble violently, waking the dragon. Puffing a few breaths of flame to ward off the chill, Myn slipped quickly back into slumber. Myranda, spent from her ordeal, soon followed.
#
Far across the field, high in the sky, Ether soared. A few bursts of dragon fire were not nearly enough to restore the strength she had wasted in her battle. She cursed herself for her weakness. The D'karon were far more formidable than she had anticipated. Of course, she'd had to compensate for the weakness of the human. That was surely the primary cause of her difficulty, but allowing herself to grow so weak was inexcusable. She trained her mind on the essence of her fellow Chosen. He was certainly below, but somehow he was still capable of concealing himself from even her keen senses. He was a testament to the superiority of those who could rightly call themselves Chosen. Not like the beast the human had found. The blindness of that weak minded and softhearted girl was astonishing. Any fool could see that the creature she had found had been corrupted by the enemy. How else could it have escaped her notice? The thought of the human having some ability that she lacked was laughable. Still, she had proven useful. And she did bear the mark . . .
#
Lain drew in a deep breath, analyzing the air for any hint of Myranda's scent. The wind was sweeping down off of the mountain, but the traces of her were weak. She was ahead, but she had come from the mountain, not through this field. He didn't care. The important thing was that she was near. Even he was not certain how he had known where to find her, but long ago he'd learned to trust his instincts on such matters.
The wind shifted and Lain swiftly sampled it. It carried a foreign scent, one far too near and far too fresh for comfort. He dropped low to the ground. The cloudy sky brought little in the way of light, but he'd been blessed with eyes that needed scarcely any. There was a form, far to the south, that stood motionless in the field. It seemed to be considering its surroundings. After a time, it turned south.
Lain held perfectly still for more than an hour. Not until the form had vanished completely from his view did he allow himself to continue. He immediately resumed his journey toward Myranda. He had not eaten in days and he was nearly frozen, but none of that mattered. Nothing mattered but the purpose to which he had devoted his life. No one must suffer as he had. If the war stood between him and his goal, then the war must end. There was no other option. As he drew nearer, Myranda's scent grew stronger. The dragon, Myn, was with her. And . . . something else. He couldn't place the scent. It toyed with him, undeniably present, yet barely noticeable.
As he slipped into the cave's dark interior. Myranda and Myn were asleep in a heap hunched against a sled. Something was asleep atop the sled. He drew in the scent, but still it eluded him. His eyes fought to make out the form strewn with makeshift blankets. He approached it. Only the head showed. It looked like . . . His heart began to beat harder. His legs seemed to weaken. His mind would not accept what was before him. Could it be? After all of these years? It was . . .
Myranda was shaken awake. Lain's face was inches from hers. Eyes she had rarely seen show a drop of emotion were saturated with angst, confusion, urgency.
"Who is she! Where did you find her! What happened to her!" He demanded, voice desperate.
"Lain! Where did you come from?" Myranda asked, sleep reluctant to release her from its grasp.
"Answer me!" He demanded.
"There was a ruined fort in the mountains. She was inside," Myranda said.
" . . . Tell me that she isn't one of them," he said, almost pleadingly.
"She is not a D'karon. She is on our side," Myranda assured him.
Rather than a look of relief, a far more desperate look came to his face.
"TELL ME SHE DOESN'T HAVE THE MARK! TELL ME SHE IS NOT A PART OF THIS SUICIDE!" he demanded, shaking her v
iolently again.
"S-She does. She is Chosen," Myranda shakily answered.
Lain released her and stepped away. The shaking and yelling had awoken Myn. She was overjoyed at the first sight of Lain, but something was wrong. He looked broken, devastated. He dropped to his knees, eyes distant and unfocused. His gaze shifted to the ground.
"In my life, I have been everywhere in this war torn land. I have been past the southern most of Tresson cities. I have been inside the Northern Capital. I have seen both oceans. In all of my years I have seen only three of my own kind. I only truly knew one. Since I last saw any of them five long decades have passed. I had come to accept that I was the last. That my race would die with me. It didn't matter anymore. Now I find one of my own. Not just one of my kind, but one of my kin, and fate has chosen that she must . . . " he stated, trailing off.
His fists clenched.
"Kin? She . . . she is in your family? You know her?" Myranda asked.
"I've never seen her, but her scent is almost identical to mine. What happened to her?" he asked, voice distant and defeated.
"Some soldiers and a wizard approached. We fought off the soldiers but the wizard nearly destroyed us. She managed to break his grip somehow and she was gone. I found her half of a mountain away, like this. She hasn't moved since," Myranda said.
"She is weak . . . Will she live?" Lain asked.
"Time will tell," Myranda said.
Lain was silent for a time. Myn nudged his tightly clenched fist. The fingers opened and stroked the adoring creature. The pained look on his face faded into a look of contemplation. His eyes closed.
"The war must end," he declared.
"You saw the proclamation from the king," she said.
"What does it matter? It is what you wanted," he said.
"Why have you come to me?" she asked.
"I know you. I know that you are devoted to this cause. I know that you have talents that will be indispensable," he said.
"Won't Desmeres be of more help than I?" she asked.
"He is not foolish enough to involve himself," he said.
"You called this suicide. Do you believe that?" Myranda asked.
"We are too few and too weak to bring this war safely to an end. Powerful men wish for it to continue. The war is what gives them their power. They would sooner see their own children die than give up that power. Reaching them will be difficult, killing them more so. The consequences will be inescapable. This will lead to our deaths. There can be no doubt. But it must be done," he said.
"You are talking about the five Generals. You plan to end the war by killing the leadership of the Alliance Army," Myranda said. His words did little to help her confidence, save one. He had said 'we'. From this point forward, they were in this together.
"It is the only way," he said.
"The army will crumble. The south will overrun the north," she said.
He was silent.
"Do you even care?" she asked.
"The south has no interest in the continuation of the war. They are a stronger, more able force. They have little to gain from this wasteland. They only wish to retain that which belongs to them. The day the soldiers on the north side of the border drop their weapons, those in the south will do the same," he said.
"So . . . the deaths of these five men will bring this war to an end for certain," she said.
"It is by no means certain, but it is as likely a method as any," he said.
"Won't others arise to take their place?" Myranda asked.
"If more must be done, more shall be done," he stated.
Myn suddenly decided that she had been lax in her duties and streaked off to fetch a meal for her long absent friend. Lain stood and turned to the sleeping form on the sled.
"Her name is Ivy," Myranda said.
He placed a hand on her head.
"I need to warn you. She isn't . . . she must have been in their clutches for a long time. Whatever they did . . . she isn't well," Myranda said, finding herself in the unique position of protecting Lain's feelings.
"What is wrong with her?" Lain asked.
"She can't remember anything. What happened to her, even who she is. She is like a child," Myranda said.
"It is just as well. What happens at the hands of the D'karon is best forgotten," he said.
"I don't think I will ever forget," Myranda said, shivering. "Epidime was the one who tortured me. He was among those that Ivy had to endure as well."
Lain shook his head.
"I faced Demont . . . playing against our strengths," he muttered.
"What?" Myranda asked.
"Epidime specializes in the mind, Demont the body. Had our captors been switched, we each might have been broken. They are testing our strongest qualities," he said.
"The General called Teht. Did she have a specialty?" Myranda asked.
"She deals with wizards," Lain said.
"We found her dead in the ruined fort," Myranda said.
"Then our task is made somewhat simpler," he said. After a moment more of contemplation, he came to a swift decision. "We must leave."
The suddenness of the comment and the conviction in his voice took Myranda by surprise.
"Leave? Now?" she questioned.
"There are a few more hours of darkness. We will need them. The longer that we delay, the more likely our discovery," he said.
"But where are we going to go?" Myranda asked, gathering together her things.
"Tressor. There are a number of people there who have yet to settle their debts. They shall be made to protect her," he said.
"But, the prophesy says . . . " Myranda objected.
"I do not care about the prophesy," he said.
"Surely even you cannot deny the truth now," she said.
"I deny nothing. I intend to keep this creature from the fate that I have chosen for myself," he said.
"But if you hope to succeed you will need her help!" she cried.
"Myranda, it is a war. We face an army at best, a pair of them at worst. There are only two ways to face a force of such size. The first is to meet it with equal strength or greater. One hundred and fifty years of failure is all that can be shown for that. What remains is our only viable option. To strike with a small enough force to avoid notice, and to strike at the very highest level. Cut off the head. If the king were truly the seat of power then the deed would already be done, but our targets are more numerous, and far too canny to allow themselves to be taken in a single blow. They will need to be taken one at a time, but in swift succession. I will require your aid to recover quickly enough from the injuries I am certain to endure. It is for this reason alone that doubling the size of the force should even be considered. Even allowing Myn to remain with us is a risk I hesitate to take. To imagine that a force of five, even five that match my skill, can slip through as easily as one is foolish. To suggest that a force which includes one such as the shape shifter could do so is madness," he said.
Without another word he wrapped the makeshift blankets more tightly about the unconscious creature and threw her across his shoulders. It was futile to argue any longer. His mind was set. Myranda gathered the bow, arrows, and rope from the sled and quickly followed Lain. Even with Ivy to carry he set a pace that was difficult to match. They had been back in the cold of night for several minutes when Myn came trotting up with her gift for Lain. When he showed no interest she carried it faithfully behind him. Lain seemed tireless as the sun struggled to turn the black clouds of night into the gray clouds of day. All the while he seemed more cautious than usual, sniffing the air and casting nervous glances to the southwest. The short day had passed without a single word from any of the travelers. Night was well and truly upon them again before the silence was broken.
Lain's previous departure had been a sudden one, and had left Myranda with a mind full of questions. The intervening time had done little to dull the edge of her uncertainties. The silence, and having Lain so tantalizingly near, had stirr
ed the thoughts to mind with renewed intensity.
"Lain, earlier you spoke of Demont. You said you faced him. When?" she asked.
"When you were in Ravenwood with the white wizard," he answered.
"What happened?" she asked.
"The Elites were after you, and you were in Wolloff's tower. I knew it was only a matter of time before they found you. I, too, was a target. To keep them from you, I allowed myself to be taken," he answered.
"And they took you to Demont?" she asked.
"To be tested, though any other man but Demont would have called it torture. He wanted to break me, to know my limit, but in time he lost interest and moved on, taking only the blood he had collected from me. I was left chained to a bed of spikes, dangling over a pit of flames. I was alone. I managed to wrap a chain around one of the spikes and levered it free. By the time the guards had noticed, I'd managed to free myself and escape. The Elites were dispatched to find me. You found me after I'd finished them," he explained.
"That . . . that's horrible," she uttered.
For a time she contemplated the ordeal he must have endured, but soon another question forced the thoughts aside.
"Lain. Desmeres . . . He told you about the book," Myranda assumed.
"The one you stole from me. He did," came the reply.
"I found the page . . . the entry with Sam Rinthorne. The one from the day of the massacre. There was one beneath it. I couldn't read it . . . but it was in Kenvard," she said.
Lain was silent.
"Lain . . . after the massacre, Kenvard was gone. How could . . . " she began.
Her voice was being choked off by a knot forming in her throat. Her vision was blurred by tears.
"It happened during the massacre," he said.
"What . . . who?" Myranda managed to ask.
"Rinthorne had hired me to find and seal the leak. Shortly after I recovered the intelligence, I was found. One of the Elites. They had been searching for me for years by that time. The man who found me. He was your father," Lain said.
The words shot like a bolt of lightning through Myranda's mind.
"He captured me. Before bringing me in, he found the intelligence. He read it. He seemed to think that something was wrong with it. A bargain was made. I was to be released, and he would destroy any information they had accumulated about me. In exchange, I was to go to Kenvard and save his family from the coming siege. When I reached the city walls, the gates had already been breached. The building he had told me to search was empty. In the chaos I managed to locate two blood relatives by scent. You and your uncle. I cleared an exit, your uncle found it. Despite the fact I could not save the others, your father kept his word. Overnight the hunt for me came to a halt, the trail rendered cold. I learned shortly after that his treachery was discovered. He was put in the dungeon in Northern Capital," Lain said.
