by Kal Spriggs
“No,” she said, “for that would not be possible. His spirit could not be reborn for Andoral Elhonas would not allow that, for the two lock one another in the realm of spirit. But he did make a champion, one who would have his mark and who would be a beacon to his people in the darkness... one to oppose the forces of Mukai Suli. He chose one who would share his name and share his strength and wisdom.” She reached out a spidery hand and touched Simonel on the chest, “It is you.”
Simonel stumbled back a bit at that, “That's not possible.”
“Is it not?” She asked, “The spirits whispered to me how our people would see the light of Maghali Mede in you. They showed me visions of the man you could become, have become. And they have told me how it is you will save our people from the call of Muhkai Suli. You will find the new Enchantress... and you will marry her.”
“What?” Simonel shook his head, “There is only one woman that I will marry.” He saw Amelia in his mind then, and how she would be shattered by this prophesy. He would not allow that.
“It is what must happen,” Aralanar said. “I do not know how it will... but I suspect.” Her smile was gloating, as if figuring it out was some great effort that had cost her much. “And that is not all. With the return of Medis Sakveri you bear the two mighty icons of Maghali Mede and you can restore the balance. You can piece together the shattered people, restore our own to their rightful status... or you could cast down the Viani and make them our slaves as they nearly did to us.”
Simonel shook his head, “I've no interest in that.”
“The Eastwood was a refuge for a time, but that time is ending,” she said. “And now I have spoken all that I know and some of what I suspect... and now you must free me of my prison.”
Simonel nodded, though his stomach still roiled at setting this madwoman loose. “I will do as I said.”
She bowed her head, “Thank you.” Before he could say more, she whipped out a long dagger and gave a cry as she leapt at him.
Simonel reacted with the reflexes that Nanamak had drilled into him. Before he even knew what he'd done, he had plunged his blade into her chest and caught her arm in one hand. She slumped against him as blood gushed out of the wound. “Thank you...” she sighed, “I knew you could not do it if I didn't provoke you.” Her voice, little more than a sigh, came at last, “Thank you, my King, for finally freeing me.”
***
Lady Amelia Tarken
The Heartwood, The Eastwood
25th of Laurel, Cycle 1000 Post Sundering
Amelia rubbed at her temples as the shades around her spoke. Some might be real, but at this point, she just didn't care anymore.
“Amelia?” the familiar voice asked and she looked up.
“Simonel?” She asked, too surprised to speak. “Are you really here?”
He gave her an odd look, part bemused smile and part worried frown. “Of course I am.” He looked around, “I'm sorry it took me so long, it must have been a terrible strain on you.” She could hear an edge to his tone though, as if he hesitated to say more.
“What is it, what did you learn?” Amelia stood up and to her shame, her body betrayed her and she swayed and nearly fell. Simonel caught her though and suddenly she was in his arms. His scent, part sweat and part forest, almost overwhelmed her.
“Careful,” he said with a gentle smile as he set her on her feet. He didn't let go of her, though.
“What did you learn?” Amelia asked.
“He learned quite a bit,” Tirianis said from the doorway, “Though apparently he's happier to see you than he is to have some answers, finally.” Her voice was chiding, but Amelia didn't miss the humor in her green eyes. “If you wished a bit more privacy, you could have told me to meet you later.”
Simonel shook his head and stepped away from Amelia. The shades around her seemed to come into sharper focus as he stepped away and their babble filled her ears. She blocked them out with an effort and focused on Simonel as he stepped back. “No,” he said, “We haven't much time.”
A shape filled the doorway and Seraphai stepped inside, “You called?” Her voice was sharp and Amelia had to swallow as she looked at her friend. Overlaid over her pale features was a dark presence, as if something oily sought to worm inside her skin. It seemed to emanate from the sword at her hip and Amelia realized that her spirit fought on, but it as a fight that she would soon lose.
Simonel nodded, “I know what we can do to halt the attack on my people.” He looked at Amelia though and he hesitated.
“What is it?” she asked.
“I'll need your help to do this... but you deserve to know why we must do this,” he said. He took a breath, “Seraphai might have told you some of our differences, between my people and the Viani.” He looked between Seraphai and her and Amelia felt confusion boil in her. Why does this matter now, she wondered.
“Our split goes back to the days of the Maghali Mede and Andoral Elhonas. It was a time of bitter rivalry, of ambition and anger and violence. Sides were drawn, brother fought brother and some favored their King... while others fell under the sway of Andoral Elhonas.” Every time he said the name, Amelia could see the darkness around Seraphai pulse, until she almost screamed for him to stop. “They consider my people wold because of the side we chose... because we gave into the whispers of ambition and power that he put in our ears.”
“But...” Amelia shook her head and forced herself to think. “You weren't even alive back then, most of your people weren't alive.”
“No, but we were marked by it, all the same,” Simonel said softly. “Our spirits were bound to his, those of our ancestors and those of our children. It is a binding of blood... for many of us are descended from him. My father was his firstborn child, which is why he was our King.”
Amelia stared at him in shock, it was as if he had admitted to being born of a demon. In a way, she thought, he just did. “So you're saying that... that he is your grandfather?”
“Yes,” he nodded. “But what I didn't know,” he said as he turned to Tirianis, “Was the role of the Enchantress in our exile or that the spirit of Maghali Mede took a role as well. He put some of himself into me, at birth, to champion the good in our people.”
The shades around her began to jabber and she shook her head, determined to force them back and hold the madness at bay. “And what about the Enchantress?”
“Her role was to protect our people's spirits, both those of the living and the dead, from Andoral Elhonas,” Simonel said, his voice harsh. “And that is where Listania's attack is focused. She knows that without the Enchantress, there is no one to guard those spirits and so she is attacking them where they are weakest, at the place where my people were born, where they swore themselves to Andoral Elhonas and where the heart of our spirits lie. The center of that betrayal has trapped us, bound us, and transformed us.”
Amelia gasped as she remembered the malevolent presence that had come form the island on the lake and she saw Tirianis blanch. “You mean...”
“He means the Entraluri Mitsa,” Seraphai said, “The place where Andoral Elhonas slew Maghali Mede, the Ancient King, with the sword I bear.” Her voice had a hollow quality to it and her green eyes were twin pits of hell. Amelia could tell that the thought of going out onto the lake terrified her and that the idea of standing on that island again almost broke her. Even so she gave a nod, “The sooner we go, the better.”
“Thank you,” Simonel said softly. He turned his gaze to Amelia. “I can't ask you to come... but we could use your help.”
Just then, she wanted to confess to the madness that had enveloped her. She wanted to tell him of the nightmares that had continued until she saw them even as she stood next to him. She wanted to tell him of the shining light that she saw enveloping him and the sibilant whispering shades that seemed to hound her every move.
But she didn't. She just gave him a nod, “We will do this, together.”
***
King Simonel Greeneye
Simonel felt the land tremor as his foot touched down upon the stones of the beach. The air seemed to hum with energy and he cursed himself for not seeing it before. Of course this would be where Listania's attack would be. Part of him wanted to call her before the Founding, but he didn't know how strongly she had already affected their people. Ironically, the eldest of them would be the most vulnerable, he knew. He had spoken with Nanamak, who had offered to come with them to the island, but Simonel had convinced him to ensure that no one else came, to prevent any of Listania's allies from joining her once Simonel engaged her.
Gantarel stood a few feet ahead, the youngster eager, his weapons held ready. To Simonel's side, Tirianis stood, yet he saw her tremble as the emotions of the place almost overwhelmed her. She gave him a confident nod, though. He watched as Amelia and Seraphai climbed out of their boat. “She's suffering,” Tirianis said softly.
“Seraphai?” Simonel asked, “Of course she is, this is a place of power to her blade's master.”
Tirianis nodded, “Her as well, but also Amelia. Something has plagued her. I worry that her strength in the powers of mind magic has grown too quickly and that she can't shield herself well enough.”
Simonel's eyes went wide, “You think the attack affects her?” That troubled him, for of them all, she had no part in the events that had cursed his people. If she were affected too, then he didn't know if he could trust anyone to face what was about to come.
She shook her head, “I'm not certain. She shows no sign of the violence, anger, or hunger that plague our people, but she seems distracted and off balance.”
Simonel saw Amelia stumble and reach out, as if for a hand that wasn't there. He rushed to her side and caught her. Was this some other attack, perhaps by Listania's hand? He couldn't say and he wished that he knew more about wizardry. He only knew enough only to use the weapons and artifacts of his people, not what might be capable for such a powerful wizard.
She gave him a wan smile, but now that he knew to look, he saw the lines of weariness around her eyes. I should never have asked her to come, he thought with self-disgust, I should have seen how weary she was. It was too late now. She would be safer at his side than alone on the shore. He held her close even as he wished he could tell her that it would all be alright.
“We have little time,” Seraphai said as she brushed past them.
“Unfortunately, she's right,” Tirianis said with false cheer.
Simonel released Amelia and stepped back. She gave him another wan smile, though her eyes seemed to be drawn to something nearby. He felt his heart sink as he saw her lips move, in an echo of words only she could hear. I'm losing her, he thought with horror. Suddenly he thought of Aralanar's words... that he would marry the next Enchantress. If Amelia died today, that might well happen.
I won't let it happen, he thought. He stepped forward and matched Seraphai, step for step, as she walked into the dense green growth.
Yet as he felt the malevolent energy of the island wash over him he felt as if his determination were melting as fast as Amelia's sanity.
***
Lady Amelia Tarken
Amelia felt as if she were wading through sound. Cries, screams, and mad cackling surrounded her. Shades tugged at her as she strode through them, begging for attention, forgiveness, condemnation, or just acknowledgment. She didn't try to filter it out anymore, she just let the madness wash over her... which was how she sensed the attack. The shades shied away from the presences and she called out a warning before they could act.
She saw several of them go after Simonel and Seraphai, but they were the distraction, she knew, and she turned to face the looming presence which drove the shades before it. “I see you,” Amelia said, her voice harsh, “you can't hide from me!” Illusory attackers boiled out of the trees and Simonel, Gantarel, and Seraphai fought them as well as the real ones in a fight where she could sense their desperation.
Amelia gave out a shout of anguish as one of the real attackers struck Gantarel and the young Wold fell, either dead or seriously wounded. She saw Tirianis shy away from one of the illusory attackers and Amelia focused her attention and the illusions around them shattered. The shadows that screened the presence wavered as the illusions vanished and suddenly, Amelia could sense Listania's mind. “That's right, bitch, you feel me now?” Amelia strode through the shades and they seemed to boil around her as she strode forward to confront their tormentor.
***
Seraphai
Seraphai swept her fingernails across the face of one attacker and heard a sharp scream as the toxins stored under her fingernails began to eat through his eyes. The other pair on her, though, seemed to elude her strikes, though she managed to dodge theirs at the same time. The sword at her hip ached with need and her fingers tingled, knowing that she could defeat anyone who opposed her, if only she would draw the sword.
Suddenly, the two attackers before her shattered and she cursed as she recognized the illusions now that they were gone. She looked over and saw Amelia stalking forward, her voice raised in a cry that Seraphai couldn't quite understand.
Listania, though, was not without her defenses. Seraphai bit back a cry as she saw the wizard form a sphere of darkness in her hands and cast it at her friend.
Seraphai activated one of her spellgrafts and as energy pulsed into her body she moved fast, faster than a blur, to shove Amelia out of the way.
The sphere of darkness struck her full on the chest and Seraphai stumbled back as she felt the cold energy envelop her. She gasped out as she felt coils of it latch onto her very soul as she dropped to her knees. Her hand clenched on the hilt of her sword and it's sweet words whispered to her, draw me, draw me and you will live, draw me and I will slay your enemies.
She turned her head and smiled at Amelia as her body trembled and the coils of darkness gathered tighter around her. She felt her ribs snap and tasted blood as they punctured her lungs. “Goodbye, my friend,” she gasped, and then the dark coils swept over her head.
***
King Simonel Greeneye
Simonel cursed as several of the attackers around him melted away, all but one familiar face. “Gedrain,” he hissed.
“False King,” the shadow hunter hissed back. He wore an odd set of black leather armor, segmented like that of a beetle or perhaps a spider. He also, Simonel saw, bore a black-hafted spear, whose tip glistened with a green poison. “Feel my sting!”
The man whirled into an attack and Simonel realized instantly that he had spellgrafts of some kind. The attacks were fast, the motions jerky but with the speed of the spider Gedrain somewhat resembled. Simonel barely blocked the first thrust and the following thrusts seemed to come from every angle. From the corner of his eye, he saw Amelia advance on someone, but he didn't have time to see more.
He saw Gedrain's weakness, then, for though his movement was fast, it was jerky, poorly controlled, and as he saw that, the shadow hunter made his mistake. He leaned forward just a hair too far and Simonel caught the haft of his spear behind the head before the hunter could draw it back. For just a moment, Gedrain froze as he tried to decide whether to let go of his weapon or to try to wrench it free. In that instant, Simonel plunged his sword up under the other man's armor and wrenched it out.
He released Gedrain and turned away as the hunter collapsed like a puppet with its strings cut.
Simonel turned just in time to see black coils envelop Seraphai as she smiled at where Amelia lay. “No!” he called out. He strode forward, but before he could take even a few steps, the roiling darkness condensed and then exploded.
***
Lady Amelia Tarken
Amelia felt pain wash over her as she heard Seraphai speak, “Goodbye, friend.”
The coils of darkness washed over her and then shrunk into a ball before they exploded. The force of the detonation threw Amelia onto her back and made her head spin. Rage flowed over her then, a hot, pure rage that washed away all of her aches and pains. She l
ooked up and saw no more than a smoldering crater where Seraphai had stood.
Amelia rolled to her feet and she saw Listania struggling to her feet, tangled in her robes, “You bitch,” Amelia said, her voice low and angry. “You tried to kill me, but you failed, again. This time you hurt my friend.” Amelia stalked forward and the shades seemed to choke the very air around her. “Now I'm going to hurt you.”
The wizard stepped away, her pale skin going white. “That's not possible!” She cried.
Amelia lashed out with her mind and she felt the wizard cringe away as her mental defenses crumbled. The ancient wizard went to her knees and blood flowed out of her nose as she clutched at her head. “No!” she called out, “Please! Master, save me!”
A wall of darkness enveloped the woman then, and when it cleared, only bare dirt remained where she had knelt. Amelia looked away, angry at being foiled. She saw that Tirianis and Simonel had started to rise to their feet, their eyes wide. Amelia almost felt like laughing as she saw the looks on their faces, but then the noise of the shades rose to a crescendo around her.
The madness, she thought. But then she saw another looming presence, this one seemed to draw out of the very ground and as it swelled, the other shades were drawn into it. She saw Tirianis, petrified, as the waves of dread and hurt and anger poured out of it. This is real, she thought, this is not madness, this is real.
She saw Simonel draw his blade, ready to take the being on, but she sensed more than the attack from it. She could feel it like it was a lonely child, hurt and alone, it just wanted that which it had lost.
Amelia stalked towards it, her arms raised, “I see you. I am here.” All her concerns, all her worries, melted away. “I am here for you.”
