by Ben Hale
To everyone else, the underground was solid, but to her it presented an open expanse, like an unmoving pond, each piece of earth bound in place, the harder stones murky, while lighter earth was clear. She floated upward, ascending past dark tunnels and empty chambers, past the ruins of Verisith, and continued to climb until she reached Cloudy Vale.
She rose through the ground, into the rain. The water washed through her ethereal body as she strode toward her house. Steeped in darkness, the hidden refuge brightened when lightning crackled in the sky, briefly illuminating the darkened doors leading to the fragment quarters and the meal hall. She passed them by and ascended the steps into her home, turning corporeal once she was under the porch roof.
Lightning crackled again, and thunder briefly overpowered the patter of rain. Elenyr, her thoughts ahead, entered her home and passed through the entrance hall to the library at the back. The circular chamber contained her archives, a multitude of books on the three balconies and the ground floor.
Elenyr reached to a light orb next to the door, and it brightened at her touch, the others in the room igniting as well. She turned ethereal and passed through the fireplace at the heart of the chamber, the black chimney briefly obscuring her vision before she crossed to the opposite side and ascended to an innocuous bookshelf on the second balcony.
While the rest contained records by historians, this particular shelf held memory orbs by herself or the fragments. Still ethereal, she passed through the bookshelf, entering the secret chamber beyond. Without door or window, the room was inaccessible from without and was the one space that not even the fragments knew about.
More memory orbs littered the space, most salvaged from the Requiem trees beneath Dawnskeep, the fortress that had been her home as high oracle. Many dated back thousands of years and included those created by her ancestors. Several of the collection drew her gaze, those of Elsin, guildmaster of the Verinai.
Elenyr stepped to the orb and activated it by touching the rune. Like all the memory orbs crafted by the Verinai, the orb did more than just show a memory inside the glass, it filled the room, light turning the walls into a training hall.
“Guildmaster Elsin,” a woman said. “You have our gratitude for creating a memory orb for our training.”
“It is my pleasure,” Elsin said.
Elenyr gained little from the memory, so she sifted through the remaining memories of Elsin. On the fourth, she found what she sought, and her lip curled in disgust, for standing behind Elsin stood one with familiar features.
Serak.
He looked young and had yet to gain the cruel twist to his lips. Here he gazed upon the woman he loved with the utmost adoration, an affection that had been unrequited, since Elsin had married another. Elenyr watched the memory to its conclusion, and then selected another, scanning the memories for clues about Serak’s fate.
She began with her own memories, carefully noted after each conflict. Being ageless did not grant perfect memory, and so she’d begun the habit shortly after starting Draeken’s training. Selecting the events where an unseen hand might be suspect, she searched the orbs, several times reliving multiple memories at once.
The hours dragged by, the voices of Elenyr’s past echoing in the secret chamber. Elenyr found signs of Serak but did not locate him in her memories. Irritated, she continued the search, until she found what she sought.
In a memory from three thousand years ago, when Elenyr and Water had gone to the orcs to resolve a dispute, Elenyr watched herself and Water speaking to an orc chieftain. Unlike his predecessors, he’d hired a multitude of mercenaries, and with the increased forces the orc was set to crush the other clans. Elenyr managed to talk him out of the plan, with her sword on his throat.
In the background of the memory, one of the mercenaries stood watching. Half in the shadows of a large statue, he did not take part in the conflict, where Water fought dozens of humans, orcs, gnomes, and dark elves.
Elenyr advanced to the edge of the memory and circled the man. He stood watching, his sword still in its scabbard, his eyes lit with dark intelligence. Just as the conflict had ended, he retreated into the corridor and departed.
Elenyr returned the image to the previous scene and watched it again, and again. The man had Serak’s height and build, but his features were different, and he had a beard. But the eyes were the same, barely visible when Elenyr’s gaze had swept the room, passing over the battle, the gaudy statues of orc wives, and teeth of slain beasts. She had not noticed the observer at the time, but now she did.
Now that she had found Serak, she continued her search, and found him again just a hundred years later, in a rebellion in Griffin. Then again, on a pirate ship on the South Sea. Each time his appearance was altered, each time the eyes were the same.
Elenyr paused and returned to the orbs, sifting through her memories of the events leading up to the conflict, and discovered snippets of tales, all suggesting someone had provoked them to anger.
Serak had been smart. He’d manipulated events but done so subtly, just enough to measure the magic of the fragments, to watch their temperaments. He was the Father of Guardians, and the possessiveness in Serak’s eyes was evident.
Elenyr closed the memories and stared at the line of orbs she’d collected, each resting on a small stand along a bookshelf. There were likely dozens more if she looked hard enough, and likely even more where he’d been present, but she had not seen him in her memories.
“What do you want?” she wondered aloud.
It was obvious he wanted Draeken, but for what purpose? Elenyr’s thoughts shifted to the secret she’d kept since Draeken had split, since the moment the fragments had been born. It was the secret she feared the most, and the one she had never shared, not with the fragments, not with Senia, not with anyone. Had Serak discovered the truth about Draeken?
She shook her head, doubting that possibility. He might be the Father of Guardians, but he could not have guessed such a secret. But what did he intend? In some of the memories she noticed Serak had an opportunity to strike at the fragments, but he made no move to attack.
Starting at the beginning, Elenyr parceled together Serak’s past. He’d loved Elsin, a love she had not returned. He’d probably become the first guardian in an attempt to gain her attention. But Elsin had recognized his power and caged him in the abandoned krey temple in the north, in the secret Gate Chamber beneath. By the time he’d escaped, the Mage Wars were over, and he’d set out to find the last of the Verinai. He’d found Draeken.
Gathering the Order of the Ancients, he’d prepared them for the return of the krey, and even discovered how to contact Wylyn. All the while he studied Draeken’s fragments, watching and waiting.
How were Draeken and the krey connected? Did Serak wish to ally himself with the fragments, as he’d claimed to Water, or did he want to give Lumineia to the Empire—including Draeken—and live like a king?
Realizing she’d gotten all the answers she could, she departed with her questions. Extinguishing the lights, she phased through the outer wall, entering the balcony of her archives. Although she’d been inside the secret room all night, daylight did not stream through the windows. The storm had picked up while she’d been inside, and the rattle of rain echoed from without. Elenyr crossed the threshold and made her way to the door. Closing it behind her, she stood on the porch, and watched the rain batter the refuge. Phasing to ethereal, she stepped into the rain . . .
She noticed the trap too late. Hiding in a puddle, it was nearly invisible, just a circle of white energy, crackling and spitting. She tried to shift her weight but her ethereal boot touched the water, and energy crackled up her body.
She screamed, her back arching as the lightning forced her to become corporeal, the trap cinching around her ankle. She scrambled backward, putting herself on the porch, fighting for breath. Once out of the water, the spell diminished, and she sucked in a grateful breath. Then her gaze lifted, and she spotted the figure striding out of
the rain.
Serak.
Chapter 41: Execution
Others appeared behind Serak, a dozen Order members, all with blades in hand. The scars and tattoos on their flesh marked them as experienced, but it was the masked man at Serak’s side that drew Elenyr’s eye.
Dressed in white and blue, the man wore a mask of the same colors. No weapon rested in his hand, except for a sparkle of white energy between his fingers. Elenyr bared her teeth as she realized the man possessed lightning magic.
All at once she saw the last few years from a different perspective, of the assassin that had come for her. His failure had revealed her weakness, and the lightning mage had placed the magic on Gendor’s sword, a magic that would have killed her without Loralyn’s intervention. Elenyr had assumed the weapons were from a past lightning mage, for it was difficult to keep such a secret private. But it was clear the magic had come from a living lightning mage, one allied with Serak.
Serak lifted his hand and waved, orange light blossoming on the gauntlet, silencing the storm. The rain continued to fall, but it no longer roared in Cloudy Vale. In its absence, Elenyr heard the crackling of power from the ring of lightning on her boot.
“Elenyr,” Serak said. “I have waited for this moment for ages. A pity that our first meeting will be our last.”
Elenyr’s eyes flicked to the lightning mage and returned to Serak, realizing his intent. He’d come to Cloudy Vale, sought her out when she was alone, and brought his secret lightning mage for a single purpose.
An execution.
She gritted her teeth and caught the handle of her door, pulling herself to her feet. The lighting continued to crackle, shooting pain up her leg, but she could walk. Serak wanted to enjoy the moment, not kill her outright. His desire to gloat gave her time.
“You must be so unused to being weak,” Serak said, his voice echoing oddly through the silent rain. “I’ll give you a moment to recover. One such as yourself deserves to die on your feet.”
“What do you want with Draeken?” Elenyr asked.
“Ah, the most important question,” Serak said, his eyes lighting with delight. “But I expect nothing less from the Hauntress.”
“All your intrigue will be for naught.” Elenyr grimaced as power coursed up her leg.
“Are you certain you know them?” Serak asked. “Because I have studied them as long as you have been their teacher, and it won’t be long until all the fragments of Draeken are in my possession.”
“He will never join you,” Elenyr said.
“Is that what you think I want?” he asked.
“Is it not?”
Serak smiled, but the amusement failed to reach his eyes. He reached up and pointed to the sky, and the water abruptly parted, turning to either side and flowing across a dome. The dome grew, expanding to reveal the breadth of Cloudy Vale.
Elenyr’s eyes widened when she saw collections of krey explosives set against the other buildings, each blinking brightly. She raised a hand as if she could stop the destruction, just as the first ignited.
The meal hall exploded, the stone shattering, fire filling the interior and belching smoke into the rain. Light’s quarters exploded next, and then Water’s, the blast shaking the porch beneath Elenyr, heat washing across her frame. Every room, every home, every chamber in Cloudy Vale disappeared in fire, the flames igniting the sodden trees, the smoke passing through the water barrier into the rain. Last to detonate, the chamber where the fragments had slept when they were young, the bunk beds and Shadow’s secret exit, all filled with fire, spilling debris into the clearing. Only Elenyr’s home remained intact.
“Why?” Elenyr demanded, watching in horror as her home burned.
“Last night your fragments destroyed Mistkeep,” he said. “It’s only fitting I return the favor.” His features hardened. “And because you have guided the fragments long enough. You have trained them well, but it’s time they were on their own.”
“So you can take my place?” she spat.
“You are the wisest woman on Lumineia,” he said, “yet still you know nothing about a true threat. And that is why the fragments need me.”
“They will not follow you,” she said.
Serak smiled again, the expression making her shiver. “Goodbye, Elenyr. Few know your identity, so few will mourn the loss.” He motioned to the masked man. “I call him Carn. I think you’ll see why.”
Carn reached outward, and the lightning answered his summons, a bolt passing through the water shield to strike the earth at his side. Instead of knocking him away, the lighting swelled into a giant wolf.
Cast from pure energy, the beast snarled and pawed the ground, its jaws snapping, spilling lightning into the water. At Carn’s command, it began to stalk forward. Elenyr’s eyes widened in shock at the instrument of her execution.
An entity of lightning.
Elenyr spun and yanked the door open. She dived inside and slammed it shut. The lightning entity crossed forty feet in a heartbeat, blasting into the barrier. Fashioned of dwarven steel and hardened oak, it held, barely.
Wood crunched and steel bent beneath the onslaught, and the entity slammed into the barrier again, knocking dust loose from the ceiling. Elenyr stumbled into the hall, her gaze lifting to the painting above the hearth, the one of her daughter, Alydian, holding an infant girl.
Elenyr’s fist tightened and she dropped to the floor. Grabbing the ring of lightning with her bare hand, she hissed in pain, and then began to pull it from her boot. It burned into her skin but she continued to pull, even as the door crunched behind her, and the lightning entity’s jaws appeared.
She pulled with all her might, and the ring moved across her ankle, shifting across her foot towards her toes. Then the door crunched and the wolf charged again, more wood clattering to the floor. Energy crackled in the steel and Elenyr realized she was out of time.
Leaping to her fleet, she limped into her archives, reaching the hearth as the door shattered. The lightning entity leapt into the opening, its snarl like thunder, the lightning crackling off its frame to ignite the room.
Elenyr leapt into the hearth and jumped, catching a stone within. The entity crossed the space as quick as thought, raking its claws down her leg. She cried out but managed to pull herself into the chimney. Soot filled her hair and covered her face and clothing, but she fought for height.
The wolf entered the chimney and clawed its way upward, power crackling off its flanks, striking the stones and her. Blood from the wound on her leg dripped into its jaws, and its thundering snarl reverberated in the confines of the chimney.
Elenyr scrambled upward, only saved by the tightness of the space, which made passage difficult for the large wolf. Its speed made up for it, and the entity closed the gap, inch by inch bringing its jaws closer to her foot.
Elenyr spotted her goal, a side chimney leading to another room in her home. The wolf’s jaws snapped shut a hairsbreadth from her feet, so close she felt energy crackle into her flesh. Crying out, she lunged and caught the edge of the smaller shaft, and dragged herself into the curving channel. She squeezed her way into it, while the wolf clawed his way after.
Elenyr fell ten feet and landed in a heap on a pile of wood. Bleeding and limping, she caught the hearth and pulled herself to her feet as lightning from above ignited the wood, and the wolf forced his way into the chimney.
From inside the room, the stones of the chimney crackled with power, and bulged as the wolf pushed his way downward, its claw appearing in the fireplace. Elenyr limped across the room and reached upward, to the staff hanging on the wall.
A gift from Water, the staffblade was the same he favored in combat. Lightning may have been powerful, but its weakness was water, which would dilute the magic. She gripped the weapon that could kill the wolf, knowing she had to first land a blow. She retreated to the closet of the guest chamber, entering as the fireplace crumbled. The wolf landed on the carpet, burning holes as it stalked forward. It shook itsel
f, and stones clattered to the floor.
Elenyr held the staffblade pointed at the wolf. An entity of lightning was faster than even the fragment of Light, but he was forced to attack through the narrow aperture into the closet. He slashed with his paw, testing her defenses, and she flicked the staff blade. Too slow.
Its snarl was tinged with triumph, and it prepared to lunge. Elenyr braced herself, and then the wolf darted forward, closing the gap in the time Elenyr tightened her grip. The beast struck the staff blade, driving her into the closet, his claws raking the air, clawing her from shoulder to wrist. But the blade had cut into its chest, forcing it to withdraw. Drops of lighting blood spilled to the floor, sparking and spitting.
In the closet, Elenyr screamed at the beast. “Come and get me!”
Although the wolf would not hear, its caster would, and the wolf dropped low to the ground before surging forward. But Elenyr was off the ground. Leaping to the ceiling, she caught the wood paneling above the door and swung herself over the wolf, landing in the room beyond, crying out as the impact sent pain spiking from her wounds. The wolf collided with the back of the closet, power arcing into the clothes and setting them on fire. Rebounding back into the room, it lunged for Elenyr.
She sprinted to the window and jumped free. She flew over the porch and landed in the wet ground between the house and Serak. The wolf exploded through the window and fell toward her, its claws wide, its jaws open. She turned and jammed the staffblade into the earth under the falling beast, and aimed the blade towards its throat.
Pointed upward and held against the ground, the entity could not turn aside, and the blade entered its jaws and passed through its body. Both exploded, the lightning crackling in all directions, forcing Serak and Carn to retreat. On her knees, blood seeping from her wounds, Elenyr glared at Carn.
“Is that all you have?”
“Impressive,” Carn said. “But so is this.”
