| The end of the story |
[May. 4th, 2008|03:21 pm] |
Hello dear readers,
I haven't given up on this story, but instead of continuing the saga of Leila and her friends on Livejournal, I've moved to the following website.
Spirit Saga
Several new chapters have been uploaded there. Please continue to read and enjoy. You can always leave comments here, and I will do my best to answer them.
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| Apologies for a long absence |
[May. 16th, 2007|12:41 pm] |
I admit, dear readers, that I had quite forgotten about this story during the sudden rush of every day life. Are there those who would like the journey of Leila to continue? Are there those who are still interested in this tale? |
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| the path to peace |
[Dec. 27th, 2006|10:22 pm] |
“We’ll go,” I said quietly, my eyes still on my lap.
Damaeon looked at me sternly and reached over to grip me by the wrist. I was surprised by his strength as I raised my eyes to meet his. I could see the fear and worry there, as well as anger.
“We should discuss this,” he told me.
The emotions in his eyes were mirrored in his voice. I drew my hand away from his, my skin white where his fingers had held me, and frowned. He blinked in astonishment.
“This offer is the best way to end the war without anymore bloodshed,” I decided. “I want to hear what this new queen has to say.”
“And Will?” Damaeon asked.
“I’ll keep him safe,” I promised, feeling my new untested powers welling up in my chest.
The Dyrel prince still looked doubtful. His eyes moved around the room to the few soldiers that remained from his army. They stood like statues, but I could feel their anxiety, echoing that of their prince. Cyrus risked a glance at me, his brown eyes full of the same awe and confusion he had been giving me since my meeting with the White Lady. Damaeon nodded his head slightly and the room cleared, even Cyrus slipped quietly out the door. The Prince waited a few minutes, his finger tented in front of his face as he thought.
“Listen,” I said, trying to explain myself. “This queen didn’t ask for you or Cyrus or Fynn or Jakob, only Will and me. I don’t know how much of the truth she knows, but I can find out. If we meet her, and this peace she’s proposing doesn’t last, at least we’ll know our enemy, right?”
Damaeon looked away from me for a moment. An elf came in with glasses of water, which he placed on the table before bowing to me and backing nervously out of the room. As I sipped the cool liquid, I thought back to the first elf I had seen on this world, the scout Roric had capture and delivered to Mattis what felt like a lifetime ago. I wondered if he was still alive.
“Take Fynn with you,” Damaeon spoke softly.
I smiled. “I don’t think I could stop him. He’s been a shadow since…”
I trailed off, knowing none of my friends liked to talk about what had happened after the Elven Queen had offered me the silver acorn. The Prince cleared his throat awkwardly in the silence, and I place my hand on his.
“We’ll be fine,” I assured him. “Fynn will look out for me, and I’ll watch out for Will. I’m not as helpless as I once was, you know. The three of us will be back before you know it.”
I didn’t wait for Damaeon to think of another reason to object, but rose quickly to my feet and left the small house to find Fynn. The Huryl messenger was being guarded in the hallway, and I passed him as I left. His brown eyes locked on to my face, and he bowed his head deeply. I was a little thrown by this reaction, wondering if the Huryl still believed me to be the Warrior of legend, or just a common murderer.
Outside the house, I found Will lingering by the door, drawing circles in the dirt with his foot. He looked up as I stepped into the sunlight, his green eyes devoid of the madness that had once possessed him. He took a step forward eagerly, dozens of questions on his mind, but unable to move past his lips.
“Cyrus found you, didn’t he?” I asked with a smile.
Will nearly blushed as he nodded. I laughed, and gestured for him to walk with me as I told him what had happened, omitting the part about answering for our crimes. He stopped when I told him we would be travelling back to the Huryl capital.
“Don’t worry,” I said soothingly, “you’ll have me and Fynn to watch out for you.”
The look he returned to me made it clear that he was far from convinced. He began to gesture rapidly in the strange pantomime language he had invented. I watched helplessly, unable to keep up with his movements, before placing my hands on his to calm him down.
“I won’t let them harm you,” I said.
He raised an eyebrow sceptically.
“For peace?” I tried, squeezing his hands.
He rolled his eyes and his lips parted as if to sigh. Finally he nodded, and threw his arms in the air as if submitting to my madness. I felt a pang of guilt for not telling him the whole truth, but the journey would be long and I could always tell him when we were underway. The self-justification did nothing for my guilt as I followed Will into the forest.
We found Fynn remarkably easily, sitting on a large overturned log with his back to us. A small brook babbled between the trees, and Fynn was staring at it completely lost in thought. As Will wandered over to the water, I pulled myself onto the log next to my protector and he turned to look at me with a surprised expression on his face.
“Leila!” he said, forcing a smile on his face.
His eyes were troubled, full of confusion and worry. I wondered if perhaps he had already heard about my plan to turn myself over to the Huryl, but he said nothing as he returned his gaze to the scenery around him.
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
For a moment, I thought he would actually tell me. He opened his mouth as if to speak, then the corner of his lips curled into an amused grin, and his mouth closed without uttering a sound. Instead, he managed to wipe the worry from his eyes as he faced me again.
“I should be asking you that, I think,” he replied. “What trouble have you stirred up this time?”
I blushed and bit my lip, the guilt I had felt earlier resurfacing. Fynn laughed and put his arm around my shoulder like he had done before, but suddenly thought better of it and withdrew his embrace. Softly, so Will would not overhear, I told Fynn everything that the Huryl messenger had told me. When I finished, he let out a low whistle and ran his fingers through his long white-blonde hair, moving it enough for me to see his long pointed ears clearly. Those ears reminded me at once of both the Elven Queen and the faerie Ellena, whom we had not seen since Mattis had become the Woodwalker.
“When do we leave?” Fynn asked.
I blinked. “You’re not going to talk me out of this?”
He shook his head. “You’ve been here long enough to know how this world works, and the Lady trusts you enough to get by on your own. That’s good enough for me.”
I suddenly felt isolated and alone, like I was an acrobat whose safety net had just been cut away. I slid off the log and landed onto the soft leaves that carpeted the forest floor. Will raised his head when he saw me move and hurried to join me, but I kept my eyes on Fynn. Something was still bothering him, but now he was doing his best to hide it.
“We should leave at once,” I decided, “before Jakob finds out. I know he’ll hate to be left behind.”
Will tapped me on the shoulder and pointed towards the elven village. Even without turning, I could sense the fury approaching.
“Too late,” I sighed.
Fynn smiled bemusedly and pulled his legs up onto the log, so he was sitting comfortably cross-legged to watch the spectacle. I winced inwardly as I turned to meet Jakob.
“What on earth has gotten into you?” Jakob exclaimed. “You’re taking on the Huryl by yourself now?”
“Fynn and Will are coming too,” I objected, looking over at them for support.
Will raised his hands and backed away, and Fynn calmly gazed up at the sky. The feeling of isolation returned as I faced Jakob alone. He was pacing back and forth, looking very much like his father, although I didn’t say it.
“I’m starting to think the only way to keep you safe is to lock you up,” the former Huryl sighed, shaking his head.
“You don’t need to keep me safe,” I protested. “I wasn’t brought here to be sheltered!”
Jakob looked at me helplessly. “What good will you do from a Huryl dungeon?”
“What makes you so certain that’s where I’ll end up?”
“Leila, haven’t you been paying any attention anything that’s happened? The Huryl have locked you up three times already. Remember the Tower? Remember the cage in Cedrik’s throne room?”
“Cedrik is dead,” I reminded him.
“So this new queen must be a saint?” Jakob countered. “I was Huryl. I lived most of my life in that country.”
“So did Will.”
“And he looks very excited to go back, doesn’t he?”
Will retreated behind the log, anxious to be left out of our argument. I found myself growing angry at Jakob, although I knew he was only trying to protect me, as he had sworn to do. Why couldn’t he understand that I’ve changed so much since our escape through the mountains?
“I’m going with you,” Jakob announced.
I shook my head. “The queen only mentioned me and Will.”
He seemed a little taken aback by that. Apparently his informant had failed to mention that part of the deal. I knew he had to stay with Damaeon to be safe. This time I would protect him.
“Please, Jakob,” I begged, hating to fight. “I’ll be fine. Damaeon has already agreed, and so have Will and Fynn. The Queen just wants to talk. Besides, you need to help Damaeon gather the rest of the Dyrel and rebuild Oponoe.”
Jakob put a hand on my shoulder and sighed. “Promise me, promise me that if anything happens, if anything goes wrong, you’ll use all your power to escape.”
“I promise.”
“No crazy heroics?”
“No crazy heroics.”
He pulled me close to him and squeezed me in a tight embrace. I heard Fynn clear his throat above us, and Jakob reluctantly pulled away. He still looked angry, but at least he had agreed. I put my hand to his cheek and brushed away a tear that had fallen from his eye.
*****
Damaeon, Safyra, Xair, and the Huryl messenger were waiting for us at the edge of the elven village as the sun shone high in the sky. Cyrus and a few guards were surrounding the messenger, but they melted back like butter as we approached. Safyra and Xair bowed deeply to me, and Jakob moved to stand beside the Prince. Two elves handed Will and I each a pack of supplies and kissed us on the cheek before disappearing into the forest.
“Good luck,” Damaeon whispered in my ear as we embraced. “I’m trusting you to represent the Dyrel.”
He shook hands with Will and took his place beside Jakob once more. Xair came forward, leaning heavily on his cane, and pressed something into my palm. I opened it to find a normal acorn, although much larger than average. The old elf winked at me and nodded towards the giant tree that loomed over the elven village, and I closed my fingers around the gift.
“Let’s get going,” the messenger said. “We’ve a long way to go before nightfall.”
I nodded and the four of us left the safety of the elves once more. As we moved away from them, I could feel the power of the spirits growing as that of the elves waned. Part of me thought that this was not right, that the power should always be flowing equally. I shrugged the thought aside and hurried forward.
“What’s your name?” I asked the messenger.
“It’s not important, my Lady,” he told me. “I’m to bring you to Her Majesty.”
“You already said it’s a long trip,” I reminded him. “I can’t just call you ‘hey you’ the whole time, can I?”
He gave a short laugh. “I’m called Jorge, my Lady.”
“I’m Leila. Stop with the ‘my Lady’ already.”
He shook his head. “You may call me what you want, but I know who you are, my Lady.”
By the time night was falling, we were out of the forest and in the large open field that lay between the Dyrel and the Huryl. I took a deep breath of the cool night air and gazed up at the unfamiliar constellations above me. Jorge, however, didn’t pause.
“We can be in the foothills in a few hours if we keep moving,” he said.
“But it’s dark,” I objected. “Shouldn’t we rest?”
“It will be safer if we keep moving,” Jorge replied. “Come.”
I hesitated, with Will and Fynn lingering beside me. The Huryl paused a few feet away from us, gesturing impatiently for us to follow.
“He’s not telling us something,” Fynn whispered to me. “He’s far too eager to be over the Dyrel border.”
I stared out at our guide, wondering if I could trust him. Should we continue across the grasslands in the dark, or wait in the relative safety of the trees until morning? |
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| heirs |
[Dec. 8th, 2006|11:09 pm] |
Samara, Queen of the Huryl, sat on the throne that had once belonged to her captors. She glanced down at the rows of nobles and courtiers who, at one time, had denied her everything. It amused her to see them now, scraping and fawning to give her everything her heart desired. She permitted herself a slight smile at her reversal of fortune, and cleared her throat.
"Bring forth the Commander of my armies," she said.
Jorge, always present at her right side, repeated the order so that it reverberated off the smooth walls of the columned chamber. The guards at the doors scrambled to fulfill her desire, and Samara smiled again.
As the doors opened, an elderly warrior came in, holding his horned helmet in his hands. He had a massive axe strapped to his back, the typical weapon of the Huryl tribe, and his armour was dirty and dented. He walked heavily, his footsteps echoing off the polished floor and he bowed awkwardly when he reached the throne. Samara smiled at him pleasantly, and he blushed.
"The people demand justice, Commander...?" she began.
"Roric, Majesty," the warrior muttered.
"Commander Roric," Samara repeated. "We must find the murderers of our beloved King Cedrik."
Roric paled slightly. He fiddled with the helmet in his hands as the Queen continued to speak.
"I have been informed that, among the escaped prisoners, was a traitor to the Huryl. Do you know anything about this, Commander?"
Roric stammered something incoherent, a thin sweat forming on his brow. The Queen watched him closely, wondering what role he played in allowing the prisoners to flee. All reports said that he had stopped them at the gate and exchanged words with them. If anyone knew of the traitor's guilt, it would be him.
"It must have been the traitor who slew our king," Samara continued. "I will have justice! Commander Roric, I need to know who Cedrik had imprisoned in the citadel."
"W-well, Majesty," the newly appointed Commander stammered, "there was the Dyrel Prince and one of his soldiers, the Woodwalker and the Warrior Leila, and..."
"And?" the Queen fixed the Commander with a stern gaze.
"And," Roric swallowed hard. "There was the traitor you spoke of, Majesty. A former soldier named
Will."
"Is that everyone, Commander?"
Roric hesitated again and nodded. Queen Samara watched him carefully for another moment, in case he decided to amend his story, before leaning back in her seat and smiling. She gestured to one of her soldiers to come forward, and he hurried to do so, carrying a scroll. Samara took it from him, along with a long feathered quill, and signed her name with a flourish. Rolling up the paper, she handed it back to the soldier, who bowed deeply and disappeared through a small door behind the throne.
"Thank you, Commander. Names were all that were missing from my message to the Dyrel Prince. The time for war is past, and I will have peace during my reign. Should the Dyrel accept these generous terms, our two kingdoms can one again live side by side," Samara rose to her feet and look out across the sea of faces. "Court is over. You are all dismissed."
The Queen swept from the hall, vanishing through the same small door that the messenger had used moments earlier. Roric was left standing in front of an empty throne, his hands trembling. He took a deep breath to calm himself and turned to leave. He may have condemned Leila, but he hoped he had saved Jakob. The gesture may come too late, but if his son was truly happy among the Dyrel, then perhaps everything that happened to their family was for the best.
*****
I walked through the leafy Elven forest with Xair. These morning strolls had become a habit for the two of us, although Fynn was always a step behind, as silent as a shadow. He had scarcely left my side since I had taken the White Lady's hand. I was still a little hazy on the details myself, but I could feel the power I had accepted bubbling within me, similar to the sensation I had felt when I had first met the spirits. The mark on my hand was gone too, but I could still see and hear the spirits around me, even in the Elven Forest. I hadn't realized it earlier, but they were here, just hidden from the eyes of the elves.
The Elven Queen had been kind to us. She had given us new clothes, food, and weapons to replace those lost in the Huryl citadel. I wore a white tunic that went to my knees over white hose, with soft white boots on my feet. A white cape was on my shoulders, fastened with a golden broach, and Clothis' sword rested comfortably on my back. I was grateful for its presence, and occasionally I could sense the slumbering spirit of my friend within the weapon.
"Tell me about the elves," I asked Xair.
The old elf nodded and sat down on a tumbled tree. I sat next to him, watching Fynn out of the corner of my eye. Although it had been several days since I had spoken to the White Lady, Fynn had barely said three words to me. He was always watching, and I thought I saw a hint of regret and sadness in his eyes.
"The elves you see today are all that is left of a once proud race," Xair began in a slow, steady voice. "Hundreds of years ago, before the tribes of man, there were clans of elves that roamed all the forests of the world. The noblest were our rulers, the clan of our Queen, who were said to be able to speak with the other worlds."
He spoke the last words with such sadness, that I nearly reached out to hold his hand. Before I could move, he regained his composure and continued.
"The elves have since lost much of the old ways. We live in the forest, but no longer have the power of our ancestors."
"What could your ancestors do?" I asked, curiously.
Xair smiled. "It would have taken a single elf to hold the shield that shelters us, back then. We could speak to the animals and treated them like brothers, not slaves. We had no need for an alliance with the human tribes, forgive me for saying so. We were strong."
The old elf look at Fynn. "The old clans may not have completely vanished, if I can believe my old eyes. I thought our Queen was the last, but another stands before me, one I had not expected to see during my life. Is it not so, my lord?"
Fynn was taken aback by the statement. "I don't know what you're talking about, ancient one. I am a creature of Faerie."
Xair shook his head sadly. "For a time perhaps, but you were not born to them. You were sold, or taken, I would guess. Your true self remains a mystery, even to you."
"Fynn is from the same clan as the Queen?" I asked softly.
"Don't be ridiculous," Fynn said. "I'm not an elf."
"Not an elf, not a faerie. What are you?" Xair questioned.
Fynn stared at the old elf for a moment, then turned on his heel and disappeared into the forest. I watched him, my heart fluttering with worry as he stalked off. Clearly the old elf's words had struck a chord, and I debated whether or not to go after him. My decision was made for me when another elf suddenly appeared, bowing to me.
"My Lady," he said. "A messenger from the Huryl has come, and seeks an audience with you and the Dyrel Prince."
Glancing at Xair, the old elf nodded at me. Quickly, I followed the guide back to the Elven village, wondering what the Huryl had to say to me.
*****
I followed my guide into the elven village, ducking through a low doorway as we entered the small house the elves had prepared for us. It sat on the outskirts of town, far from the curious eyes of the elven villagers, but it was comfortable and richly furnished. As I entered, I could see Damaeon in the sitting room, where we often gathered after meals for quiet conversation. He did not look as relaxed as he had after those meals. Cyrus stood protectively next to him, along with some Dyrel warriors whom the elves had rescued after the fall of Oponoe. I saw at the other side of the room was a man dressed in a typical Huryl fashion, although he had been disarmed and had two Dyrel soldier standing next to him. Damaeon saw me as I entered and smiled slightly.
“I’m glad they found you,” the prince said as I sat next to him. He gestured to the Huryl with his chin. “Repeat your message.”
The Huryl looked very uncomfortable, staring at me as if I had just appeared out of thin air. He cleared his throat noisily.
“Her Majesty, Queen Samara of the Huryl tribes, proposes a peace between our two kingdoms,” the messenger said. “She will withdraw her troops from Dyrel land, abandoning the Spirit Wood and Oponoe. No borders will be changed, and no reparations will be paid. Trade and commerce will begin between our two kingdoms, and it is her Majesty’s wish that both lands prosper.”
Damaeon listened grimly. I wondered why he was so agitated. This peace treaty sounded more than fair to me. The messenger cleared his throat again, and continued.
“Queen Samara asks only a small token; that the murderers of the former King Cedrik return to the citadel and answer for their crimes. The Queen calls for Leila, the Warrior of the Huryl, and the traitor known as Will appear before her for punishment. If Prince Damaeon of the Dyrel will comply, the breach between our two kingdoms can be repaired.”
Damaeon gestured with one hand and the two soldiers dragged the Huryl messenger from the room. When it was quiet again, the prince looked at me with large eyes.
“It sounds too good to be true,” I said encouragingly. “Everything will be restored to how it was before the war.”
He sighed deeply. “She’s asking that I turn you and Will over to her. We don’t know this self-proclaimed Queen. She could be worse than Cedrik was. She could have you killed.”
He fell silent, lost in thought. I looked down at my hands, folded on my lap, and turned over the peace treaty in my mind. The White Lady has asked me to repair the damage done to this world, which included stopping this war. Should I go with the Huryl messenger and speak to this new Queen? Or should I remain safely with the elves, and find another path to peace? I sighed almost as deeply as Damaeon. It seemed that finding the power of the White Lady had done nothing to ease my decisions. |
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| eyes opened |
[Nov. 30th, 2006|04:00 pm] |
Swallowing hard, I reached out with a trembling hand to touch the delicate fingertips of the white figure. I saw her features, so similar to my own, melt into an expression of happiness as she moved closer to me. I was overcome by a warm, soothing sensation, spreading from within my chest to every part of my being. I closed by eyes and exhaled slowly, relishing the calming heat of the new power being born within me. Every pore, every fibre tingled, and I could feel it all. It was unlike anything I had ever experienced, but I was not afraid.
I breathed deeply, listening to the steady beat of my heart. I could hear everything; the musical voices of the spirits, the lilting tones of the faerie, the gruffness of the elven tongue, they all flowed to my ears and milled about in my brain. The coarse human language joined them, thoughts, hopes, dreams, and prayers from every living being on the world. I listened, and silenced them from my mind with a soothing hush.
I flexed my fingers, and I could feel everything. The warm winds of the desert caressed my skin, even as the cool rains of the forest and the frigid snows of the north mingled around me. I was in the depths of the ocean where no fish lived, and in the sky higher than any bird dared to fly. I was everywhere, feeling everything, until I closed my hands and the sensation faded.
Look.
I opened my eyes and glanced down. Below me was the world I had adopted, spread out like a map. I could see the green trees of the Spirit Wood and the Elven Forest, the empty ruins of Oponoe, and the small sheltering mountains behind it. Beyond the forest, the Huryl lands were defenceless, the desert laid out like a glistening sandy carpet, nearly surrounded by the tall gray mountains where the capital city hid. The calm blue ocean nearly circled the land that seemed unbelievably small from so high up, and in the distance lay unfamiliar terrain of grasslands and jagged peaks.
Closer.
I adjusted my vision and saw my adopted world from an even further distance, as a round planet hovering in the centre of three transparent, vaguely coloured spheres. The spheres overlapped around the planet, nestled in the coloured space like a child wrapped snugly in a blanket. I frowned as I regarded the spheres; they did not seems as they should be, for some reason. The blue sphere was far too large, dwarfing the other two. In contrast, the red sphere was so small it barely covered the centre planet. The green sphere was long and narrow, as if it were desperately trying to hold onto the planet but was failing. I shook my head and reached out to the sphere-worlds, cupping them gently in my hand.
This would have to be fixed, I thought. Things must be set right.
As I gazed down at the tiny worlds in my hand, I felt a presence somewhere in the back of my head smile, and disappear. Before I could ponder the strange awareness, a blinding light rushed towards me with remarkable speed, and I clenched my eyes shut to avoid being blinded. The surprise of the light’s sudden appearance knocked me backwards, and I felt myself falling. As I fell, the warmth that had filled me vanished, and when I opened my eyes again, I was staring into the worried eyes of another.
“Leila?” Jakob asked.
I opened my clenched hand, feeling a desert breeze on my palm for a split second, and saw only the silver acorn in my hand. Even the mark that Ruella had burned into my palm so long ago was gone. Rubbing my temple with my free hand, I sat up and looked around the room.
I was once more in the Elven Queen’s chambers, below the great tree in the Elven Forest. I was sitting on the floor, Jakob kneeling beside me, with one hand on my back to steady me. Will was only a step away, his eyes full of concern, while Fynn remained on the opposite side of the room, staring at me with wide eyes. I looked over my shoulder to where the Elven Queen was still sitting on her bed, and immediately noticed the contented look on her face.
“What happened?” I asked, my voice sounding thick as if I had not used it in a while.
Relief washed over Jakob’s face. “You touched the acorn and passed out, but only for a minute. Are you okay?”
“Only a minute?” I repeated dully. Had everything I had experienced only taken a minute?
“Leila, what did you see?” Fynn asked urgently. He moved to my side in two quick strides, his eyes flickering from mine to the Elven Queen. “You saw her, didn’t you? The White Lady?”
“Is that who she was?” I said curiously. “She never gave me a name.”
Fynn looked accusingly at the Elven Queen. “You knew! You knew and you offered the acorn willingly. She isn’t ready yet!”
“She is,” the Elven Queen replied calmly. “The worlds are in agreement, Aefynnelldar. You would know too, if you care to listen to your own kind.”
Fynn blushed and turned his head angrily to one side. “I have no kind. I served only one, and was forsaken.”
“By your own choice,” the Queen reminded him, “when you chose to serve another.”
“I saw,” I stammered, trying to answer Fynn’s question. “I saw everything. I felt everything. I was everything. Fynn, it was incredible. I touched her hand, and the world unfolded before me.”
Fynn frowned sadly at me, and I could see the hurt in his eyes. I struggled to my feet, with Jakob holding my arm, and I nearly fell again as my head spun. I could still feel the power of the White Lady in my veins, the tingling in my fingers, and the image of the universe in my mind. As I stood reeling, the Elven Queen slipped from her bed and stood before me. She was very tall, her long white and rainbow hair falling just past her waist as she looked down at me with her regal eyes. The jewel on her tiara glimmered, and in once graceful movement, she was on one knee before me with her proud head bowed.
“My Lady,” she said to me. “I remain your servant.”
Fynn stared at the Elven Queen in shock as Xair fell to his knees behind his queen. Will’s mouth was hanging open, and Jakob held my arm tighter.
“The White Lady has given you the power to balance the three worlds,” the Elven Queen explained, answering the unspoken question on everyone’s lips. “You are the one who sustains the creatures of magic, the elves, the faerie, and the spirits. By your will, we live or die, my Lady.”
“Please, stand up,” I pleaded.
“Are you telling me that Leila has just become a god?” Jakob asked incredulously.
Fynn sighed. “Not a god, just very powerful. I – I was asked by the White Lady to guard her, to keep her safe, to guide her though the world until the time was right. I had no idea this is what the Lady had in mind.”
Will was waving his hands over his head to catch someone’s attention. As we all turned to face him, he pointed to me and mimed someone opening a book. He looked up in confusion.
“He wants to know what the two prophecies had to do with anything,” I translated.
Jakob blinked in surprise. “You got that from him reading?”
I shrugged and smiled innocently.
“The prophecies were to keep you safe,” Fynn said. “Not the greatest of plans, I admit, but when they were created there was no know way to know what kind of humans would be ruling the nations. If an outsider suddenly appeared in their world, to avoid persecution and suspicion, the prophecies were created. No one would harm the saviour of their world.”
“There was no way to predict when the White Lady would summon you, Leila,” the Elven Queen continued. “It was fate that brought you here when the strongest human tribes were at war.”
“So what am I supposed to do now?” I asked helplessly.
“You carry the three worlds within you,” the Queen explained. “The spirits have placed their trust in you from the start. You hold in your hand the silver acorn from the oak in the world of Faerie, and you have around your neck a close tie with my own kingdom.”
Reaching for my locket, I drew it out of my white robe and stared at it. Fynn’s eyes went wide and his fair skin paled. He stumbled forward, his hand outstretched as if to take the locket from my hand, but at the last minute he recoiled as if burned.
“Will took this from the Faerie Queen,” I said. “What does it have to do with the elves?”
The Elven Queen smiled slyly. “That, my Lady, is something you will have to discover. You have the support of the elves, as you are our support. You must do the same with the other two worlds.”
Will gestured again, and I nodded absently. “You’re right, Will. There is still the war to finish as well, now that I am promised to no one.”
“And the Woodwalker,” Jakob reminded me. I had told him about my encounter with Mattis as we walked to the elven village, and he shared my concern for Mattis’ growing power.
I sighed, still feeling high from my newfound power. Where should I head first? |
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| the white lady |
[Nov. 21st, 2006|10:29 pm] |
My hands were trembling as I reached out for the silver acorn. The Elven Queen watched me with gentle eyes, her body completely relaxed as she sat in her bed. Hesitantly, I glanced over my shoulder at my companions. Jakob had a slight frown on his face, his body tensing slightly and he stood protectively close to me. Fynn had his back to the bed and was watching the flickering light of the candles on the wall. I wished he would turned and smile at me, give me some indication that I was not about to do something stupid. The face that concerned me the most was Will. His lips were pursed tightly together, as if her were biting back a warning he was unable to express. His eyes were wide with fear, and I could see his hand twitching as if he wanted to snatch the acorn from the Queen before I could touch it. Still, he made no movement to act on any of these impulses, and so I reached out and brushed the silver acorn with the tips of my fingers.
It felt as if someone had pushed me, and I clenched my eyes shut until the free-falling emotion had passed. Before I opened my eyes, I had the feeling that I was no longer standing in the Elven Queen’s bedchamber. The air felt much cooler and damp against my skin, and a breeze stirred through my hair and white robe. I no longer felt the presence of my friends either, but I did not think that I was alone. Cautiously, I cracked an eye open and the shock of my surroundings made me open both eyes wide.
There was nothing but darkness around me, darkness pinpricked with tiny white and gold lights. I blinked rapidly to clear my vision, but nothing changed. There were no trees, no buildings or people, not a single feature to break up the landscape. I raised my eyes to what I believed was the sky, and found it as empty as the rest of the strange place. I couldn’t even tell where the sky ended and the ground began. Glancing at my feet, I could see so far below me that I though perhaps I was flying. I moved my hands in front of my face to make sure that I hadn’t changed along with the landscape, but the only thing that was different was the silver acorn clenched in my marked palm. The strange marking that Ruella had given me what felt like years ago tingled with the magic of the acorn, but I could not feel the spirits within me to answer any summons I might make. Swallowing hard, I turned full circle and noticed that one of the white lights in the darkness was growing brighter. I stared at it in fascination, the only changing thing in this strange place, until the glow became overwhelming and I was forced to cover my eyes. When the light subsided, a figure hovered before me, bathed in white light. I knew I had seen her before, in the forest with the wolf to guide me, and I smiled in spite of myself. Some of the fear drained away, and the face that resembled my own echoed my grin.
“Be welcome,” she said in my voice.
I shrugged aside the strangeness of speaking to myself and did my best to curtsey. The white figure laughed, a more musical laugh than my own, and drifted closer to me.
“You have changed much since we last spoke,” she said. “I am please with you.”
“Thank you,” I replied, straightening. I held up the acorn to her. “Could you tell me how I can use this to stop the war between the Huryl and the Dyrel? The Huryl King is dead, but I don’t think the war will stop.”
The figure shook her head. “No, not yet. It is not the human war that brings you here, Leila. I brought you here for a much more important task.”
I frowned. “You brought me here? But it was an accident. I just followed a marsh spirit and the next thing I knew, I was in this world surrounded by war. If I wasn’t supposed to end the war, why does each side think I can?”
“That was to keep you safe.”
I laughed. “I don’t think I was very safe. The Huryl wanted me dead, and probably still do. I was shot by an arrow, lost in the desert, possessed by the spirits, captured by an army!”
“But you were safe the entire time. You would not have died from any of those situations.”
“I’m glad you’re letting me know this now,” I snapped, thinking of Clothis. She died to save me, but if I had never been in danger, had her death been in vain? She should be with me now, standing with Jakob and Fynn and Will in the Elven Queen’s bedchamber, not buried under the rubble of a demolished city. I felt tears come into my eyes and I angrily wiped them away.
“You were brought here to save me and my children,” the figure continued, ignoring the spite in my voice. “Without you, the three worlds would disappear forever. We need you, Leila, to balance the three world again.”
“Balance the three worlds?” I repeated. “How do I do that?”
The figure smiled gently, like a grandparent to a child. “I am old, Leila, and my strength is failing. I have been searching for centuries to find the right person to help me, someone who is kind and fair, but also strong of heart and mind. I scattered some of my children into the far-worlds to search for someone, and they found you. Leila, you must take this burden from me. You are the only one who can do it.”
I stared at her as the realization of her words sunk in. “You want me to take over your power?”
The figure nodded. “I am the one who sustains the three worlds, the worlds given to my children, the elves, the faerie, and the spirits. Should I fail, their magic would fade at they would die. The balance of the worlds would be torn apart. Please, Leila, my children need you. They already trust you with their powers and have been united within you. All that remains is for you to accept my final gift.”
She stretched out one pale arm and extended her hand towards me. The gesture was so reminiscent of the Elven Queen, that I nearly accepted the hand without a second thought. I did pause as the impact of what the white figure was offering made its way through my mind. If I took on this burden, I would never see my home world again. I would effectively be a prisoner in this strange place, unable to see my parents. I would be responsible for the well-being of three whole worlds! On the other hand, my parents already believed me dead, if the vision Mattis had shown me had a grain of truth, and they would move on with their lives as they had when Nathan passed away. Perhaps my death will bring them back together, and they’ll find the happiness they lost when Nathan and I were born. I would remain in this world that had become more of a home to me than my own world had ever been.
The white figure smiled at me, as the Elven Queen had done, and waited for my response. |
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| awakening |
[Nov. 15th, 2006|09:51 pm] |
I shook my head in disbelief, staggering to my feet. I stared at him, my mind reeling at what he had just told me. As I stumbled a few paces away, Mattis only watched me with his wild green eyes, not moving from where he sat.
“I couldn’t,” I gasped. “Not now. I couldn’t just leave everyone, even if it means hurting my parents. I’ll make it up to them when I get home.”
“If you get home,” Mattis corrected gently, gracefully standing.
I backed up more until I felt the rough bark of a tree against my back. I knew I was alone and defenceless, the spirits locked within me as long as I remained close to the Elven Forest. I had fled from the only ones who could protect me, yet Mattis only stopped and shook his head sadly.
“Foolish Leila,” he said. “You still have no idea why you’re even on this world.”
“I – I followed a marsh spirit,” I stammered.
Mattis laughed and shook his head, an amused grin on his lips. “I had hoped to spare you, out of thanks for what you have given me. My gratitude was true, Leila. Please remember that.”
He vanished in a whirlwind of leaves, and I was once again alone in the forest. I found myself breathing hard and staring at the toadstool circle where only moments ago I had seen my parents. Part of me regretted my decision, the part that yearned for what my life had been, when Nathan was alive and my parents had been happy. That happiness had been destroyed when Nathan was killed, and even if I did return, it could not last. I closed my eyes and turned my head away, only to feel something rush past my face and strike the tree I leaned against. Opening my eyes, I saw dozens of dark eyes staring at me.
Faerie archers, I thought. What are they doing here?
Another arrow came flying towards me, and I had to duck and roll to avoid being hit. Rising quickly to my feet, I began to run blindly through the trees. I could do nothing as the faerie followed me. I saw them, matching my pace, their long hair and delicate wings fluttering behind them. One smiled at me before he released his arrow, and I dropped to the ground as it soared over my head.
“Don’t move.”
Peering up from where I lay, I saw a figure standing over me. She held a wooden staff which she used to deflect the arrows, and her long brown hair hung loosely down her back. I could make out her small pointed ears as she moved, and her dark eyes.
“Safyra!” I gasped, relieved to have been found by an ally.
“We’re right at the border,” Safyra said as she fought. “When I say so, run for the white birch grove ahead to your right. The faerie can’t follow us there.”
I kept close to the ground as I readied myself to fly. It felt like an eternity as the elven woman stood above me, twirling her staff expertly to keep my safe. I raised my eyes and saw a few faerie were circling around to stand in front of me, and I bit my lip to keep from crying out. I wished I had Clothis’ sword at least, but I had left it with Fynn what felt like ages ago.
“Run!” Safyra barked.
I leapt to my feet like a frightened deer and dashed for the birch trees. I couldn’t hear anything around me as I focused on the white branches and green leaves, until I wrapped my arms around the trunk and hugged them. Only then did I notice I wasn’t alone.
“Where did you go?” Jakob snapped, striding towards me.
I ignored the anger in his voice as I wrapped my arms around him, hugging him tightly. The former Huryl soldier tensed, and put one arm around me as I sobbed into his shoulder.
“I’m sorry, Leila,” Jakob whispered into my ear. “I had no right to accuse you.”
Releasing him from the embrace, I wiped the tears from my eyes and smiled, thinking about how close I had come to abandoning him and my other friends. I saw Cyrus, Will, Damaeon, and Fynn standing behind Jakob, each with a bemused expression on his face. Safyra materialized behind us and cleared her throat noisily to get my attention.
“Let’s go,” she said briskly.
As I followed the elven woman through the trees, I couldn’t help but reflect on the last time I had come here. Back then, Safyra wouldn’t have let Fynn and Will close to the border, let alone in the Elven Forest itself, but she didn’t say a word of protest as we walked. It was quiet and peaceful, and despite everything that had happened, I felt myself relaxing and enjoying the wilderness. It wasn’t long before we reached the escarpment and began our descent into the secondary forest that the elves called their home.
My eyes were locked on the central tree, towering over all the other vividly green boughs of the elven village. The massive tree canopied everything beneath it, and its leaves were the shimmering colours of the rainbow, sparkling in the sunlight. Safyra didn’t say a word as she led us through the streets of the village, towards the base of the tree.
Last time I had approached this tree, Jakob and I had been led inside. This time, however, the ancient elf Xair waited for us outside the opened doorway leading into the tree. He looked much as he did when we had last met, with his long white beard and bald head. He held a walking stick in front of him, on which both his hand rested, and he smiled as we approached.
“Leila,” he said amiably. “Welcome. I trust your mission was a success?”
I nodded. “We have retrieved the acorn.”
The old elf’s smile broadened. He peered past myself and Jakob to the others, frowning slightly as he spotted Will and Fynn.
“Prince Damaeon,” Xair said with a bow, “be welcome. Some of your people have found refuge in our village. Safyra will take you to them.”
Damaeon’s eyes lit up with joy, but he inclined his head graciously to Xair. “My thanks for treating my people with kindness in these troubled times.”
“The elves will not forget the old alliances,” Xair assured him.
“Come,” Safyra said, taking Damaeon by the elbow. Cyrus followed him after one last lingering look in my direction.
“The others will follow me,” Xair announced. “Leila, Jakob, this way.”
He paid no attention to Fynn or Will as they followed us into the bowels of the tree. Once again, we walked forward without any indication that our path was taking us deep underground until the roots of the tree appeared above our heads. Xair stopped at an intricately carved door and, without pausing to issue a word of warning, pushed the door open and stepped inside.
The room was brightly lit by candlelight, with a bed woven from tree roots in the centre. The Elven Queen lay on the cushioned bed, her long white hair faintly tinted with a rainbow of colour, like the leaves of the great tree. She had long pointed ears and pale skin, and wore a silver circlet with a deep green pendant on her brow.
“The acorn, if you please,” Xair said urgently.
Jakob removed it from his pouch and placed it into the gnarled hand of the old elf. Eagerly, he moved to the Queen’s bedside and pressed the silver acorn into the palm of her hand, closing the fingers around it. He stood back and we all waited with baited breath to see what would happen next. Fynn was prowling around the room like a caged animal, his hand crossed in front of his chest as he tried to appear disinterested. Will stood still, but stayed so close to me that I could feel his breath on the back of my neck. Jakob was at my side, and I stood next to Xair as we all waited for the return of the queen.
Slowly, her eyes opened. They were a deep purple, so dark they were nearly black, and they blinked several times before moving about the room. Xair nearly wept with joy as the Elven Queen pushed herself into a sitting position on her bed, still grasping the silver acorn in her hand. She looked at the old elf and smiled gently, cupping his cheek in her hand with motherly affection. Then, her purple eyes found mine.
“I see,” she said, her voice clear and musical. “You are the one she found.”
“Majesty,” Xair said, “may I introduce Leila, and her companions Jakob of Huryl…”
“I know the others,” the Queen interrupted as she spotted Will and Fynn. Her eyes hardened on the frightened man behind me. “Was not my warning and curse enough?”
Will nodded and bowed deeply to the Queen. She regarded him a moment longer and sighed. “You have redeemed yourself through betrayal, I see. By retrieving the acorn, the curse I placed on you has vanished, but you have brought another’s wrath on your head.”
“Can you do anything for him, Your Majesty?” I asked.
The purple eyes snapped back to me, and I found myself unable to break the gaze. She shook her head. “I cannot, but I know of another who can.”
Will looked hopeful, but before I could ask anything more, the Queen’s gaze had passed us by and was settled on Fynn. The former Woodwalker had stopped fidgeting about the room and stood locked in the Queen’s gaze. She inclined her head towards him.
“My lord,” she said pleasantly. “You have returned. I am glad to see you.”
Fynn’s brow furrowed in confusion. “Your Majesty, I have never set foot in this forest. The faerie once respected the wishes of the elves.”
“But you are no faerie, no matter how long you dwelled with them,” the Queen objected. She turned back to me.
By now, I had a million questions floating through my mind. Everything the Queen had said was cryptic and it didn’t seem to me that she would give up the answers willingly. As I stood next to the bed, the Elven Queen held out the silver acorn to me.
“Are you ready, child?” she asked quietly.
“Ready? For what?”
She smiled. “To find out why the marsh spirit chose you, out of the millions of people on your world. Are you ready to embrace your destiny?”
I started to reach for the acorn and hesitated. Something told me that once I touched the acorn, nothing would ever be the same again. My world – this new world that I had come to know and love – would be altered forever. Was I prepared to risk everything to find out why I had been brought here?
The Elven Queen smiled gently at me, waiting for my decision. |
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| where i belong |
[Oct. 29th, 2006|10:28 am] |
“I suppose we should wait here,” I replied warily, my eyes locked on Jakob’s. “I’m sure the elves will know we’ve arrived and come to meet us.”
Jakob huffed, turned his back to me, and stalked off into the forest. Behind me, I could hear the now familiar sounds of my companions setting up camp. I didn’t move from my spot, staring at the trees through which Jakob had disappeared. When I felt a hand land on my shoulder, I turned.
“Leave him for the moment,” Fynn said.
I glanced over his shoulder to where Will was setting up wood for a fire. Damaeon was helping, while Cyrus followed behind him, cautioning him not to strain himself. The Prince of the Dyrel laughed at his protector, assuring him that he was fine. Cyrus, however, was not entirely convinced and I noticed him glancing over at me on several occasions. I sighed.
“I don’t think I can,” I told Fynn. “Something is troubling him, and I want to know what it is.”
I shrugged off Fynn’s hand and ran into the woods after Jakob. Immediately I noticed the lack of spirits so close to the elves. The ones within me stirred impatiently, but I ignored them. They knew as well as I that they could not be released here, so they would have to wait. I kept running until I heard the sound of splintering wood. Following the noise, I spied Jakob hacking at a tree with his sword. I could tell from his expression that he was not happy, and that the tree was an innocent victim of his anger.
“Jakob?” I said, stepping into the clearing.
The former Huryl lowered his sword, breathing heavily from the exertion of attacking the tree. Still, the anger did not leave his eyes as he turned to face me.
“Why are you here, Leila?” Jakob demanded suddenly. “What are you dong? Is this just a game to you? Are you fulfilling some childhood dream of magic and faeries? Well, even if that’s all this world is to you, it’s real to me. It’s my world, Leila, not just a playground. It’s real.”
I stared at him, taking a hesitant step backward from his barrage of words. They echoed in my mind, his harsh tone of voice making them sound much more cruel. Jakob waited for me to answer, his chest heaving and his hand clenched tightly around his sword. I lowered my eyes to my clasped hands, blinking away the tears that were forming in my eyes. Anger and confusion mingled in my mind, and I could scarcely believe the things he was suddenly accusing me of.
“It’s not a game,” I said quietly, raising my eyes to meet his. “All I’m after is a way home. For a while, I thought maybe this would could be my home too. My world has nothing for me, no family and no friends. I found those here, the things I had bee missing. But you’re right. I don’t belong here. I’ll never belong here. It’s not my world after all.”
I fled deeper into the woods before the tears stinging my eyes could escape. I fled from Jakob, who made a sound that may have been asking me to wait, but I ran. Fynn, Will, Damaeon, Cyrus, I left them all behind. They were not of my world. Branches tore at my arms and legs, and gradually the sunlight began to fade.
When the wood was absorbed by shadows, when I was alone at last, I fell to my knees and allowed myself to cry.
“Hush, Leila,” a voice said soothingly in my ear.
I raised my head and saw a figure crouching in front of me. He smiled kindly, but I recoiled from his touch and scrambled to my feet, putting as much distance between us as I could.
“No,” I whispered, shaking my head. “It can’t be.”
“But it is,” Mattis replied, rising gracefully. “I have you to thank, and Aefynnelldar.”
The former Huryl commander looked different from before, less human and more faerie. My eyes moved up and down, trying to take it all in. As a living human, Mattis had short black hair that was always trimmed neatly. He had piercing green eyes and a pale complexion. He had worn the uniform of the Huryl army. He had looked normal.
As the Woodwalker, Mattis’ black hair was streaked with gold and red, and was longer and wild. He looked as if he had been caught in a fierce wind, with black curls flowing in all directions. His skin was silvery and shimmered in the moonlight, and his green eyes had found new depths. His ears were pointed, although not as long as Fynn’s, and he wore a strange outfit of autumn leaves and soft leather shoes on his feet. He walked smoothly, like a fish would swim, and the smile on his face revealed rows of pointed teeth.
“Stay away,” I warned, moving until I felt a tree at my back.
Mattis frowned slightly. “Really, Leila, that is an empty threat. Your friends are far from here, and I know you are too close to the elves to summon the spirits. It is a welcome moment of privacy for us, but you have nothing to fear. I have only come to offer my thanks.”
He stopped a few feet away from me and gestured to a toadstool circle that was barely noticeable through the underbrush. Still wary of my former enemy, I moved to stand beside it but was careful not to enter the ring. The new Woodwalker smiled again.
“You have given me what I always desired, Leila,” Mattis said. “When I was a human, I could only rise as high as king. Now, as a spirit creature, my power can be limitless!”
“The Faerie Queen,” I began.
Mattis laughed. “The Queen will never deny anything to her favourite, and I am her favourite now. She hardly cares what happens to the mortal world anyway, as long as I bring her souls.”
I shuddered in spite of myself. Fynn had shown mercy by giving Mattis to the Faerie Queen in his place. He had assured me that it would be centuries before she would let Mattis roam free, and with Ellena restored to Faerie, I thought perhaps we would have an ally.
“I will give you a gift, Leila,” Mattis told me. He laughed at the look I gave him. “I don’t doubt you mistrust me, but what I did as a human is long behind me. I want to start fresh, turn over a new leaf between us. Look.”
He snapped his fingers and the leaves within the toadstool circle began to churn. They swirled around so quickly that I found myself growing dizzy as I tried to watch them. Eventually, deep within the vortex, I saw a place I thought I would never see again. It was my childhood home, where I had grown up with my twin Nathan and my parents. I saw the outside of our house, the long driveway leading to the concrete steps and the brightly painted red door of the red brick house. I smiled and looked up at Mattis, who was controlling the leaves like a conductor of a symphony.
“It’s my home,” I whispered to him.
“Look deeper,” Mattis said.
I returned my gaze as the image shifted. Suddenly I was inside my house, looking at the unchanged furniture. The television was off, and bookcases lined the walls. There was a fire in the fireplace and paper scattered across the coffee table. Seated on the blue sofa were my parents.
“They’re together,” I gasped. “They haven’t been able to stand each other since Nathan died. What happened?”
“Watch,” the Woodwalker replied.
A police officer came into the room, holding more papers which he dumped onto the table. I could see my mother was crying, a tissue balled up in her hand as she sobbed on my father’s shoulder. The officer sat down on the matching blue chair and shook his head.
“Still no sign of her,” he said sadly. “After this long, with no leads, we’re inclined to give up.”
“You can’t,” my father objected. “She’s out there, alive, waiting for us to find her.”
“I can’t dedicate the manpower to this case, Mr Sinclair. It’s gone cold. We’ve had no fresh leads, and all the others have brought us to dead ends.”
My mother blew her nose and sat up straight, pointing an accusing finger at the officer. “You haven’t done everything, you couldn’t have. There must be something more we can do to find her.”
The officer rose to his feet. “We’ve scoured every inch of the woods where you daughter lives. We’ve questioned everyone who’s ever met her, and put posters and rewards all over the place. We’re out of options. I’m sorry.”
As the police officer left the house, my father patted my mother soothingly on the back and whispered into her hair. My mother shook her head and looked up at the fireplace mantle, where a picture of my brother and I sat.
“I can’t believe we’ve lost both of them,” she cried. “Leila, where are you?”
The image in the toadstool ring vanished as the leaves settled back to the forest floor. The sound of my mother crying was replaced by the cheerful songs of the birds in the trees. The Woodwalker looked at me sadly as the tears rolled down my cheeks.
“Why did you show me that?” I demanded. “Why did you want me to know how miserable my parents were without me?”
“You said to Jakob you had no family,” Mattis replied. “But you do have a family, and they miss you.”
I sat down on the ground outside the circle and put my head in my hands. I didn’t belong in this world, that I fought to protect. The world I was born into was searching for me, but I had no way to returning. My parents thought I was dead, like my brother, and their grief had brought them together again. If I could just get home, maybe we could be a family once more.
“There is a way, you know,” Mattis said, sitting next to me.
I looked at him expectantly, my eyes red and raw from crying. The new Woodwalker twirled a small twig between his fingers.
“Aefynnelldar had the power to send you home all along,” he continued. “That first time he met you in the woods, he could have sent you home. He doesn’t have the power now that he has forsaken the Queen, but I do.”
Mattis turned to face me, and I found myself falling into his deep green eyes. He took my hand in his and held it tightly.
“Just ask,” he told me, “and I will set you free. I will bring you home.”
***
Many, many apologies, dear readers, for the exceptionally long delay. I will do my best to post new chapters more quickly from now on! |
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| the forgotten |
[Sep. 23rd, 2006|09:19 pm] |
The screams died on her lips as she faced the room full of strange men. She pressed herself against the wall of her tower bedroom, close to the window that overlooked the sandy arena where she often watched the soldiers drill for battle. Clutching her blanket to her chest as if it were a magical shield, she stared in horror at the intruders. They were all armed and armoured, their features hidden beneath masks of steel. Most of them held the fierce battle axes that the Huryl were famous for, but others held swords. She knew they could only be here for one reason, a reason she had long expected. Still, she found that bravery did not come as easily as acceptance. For all the long years she had spent as an accessory to Cedrik’s court, this was the first time she truly felt fear.
“What is the meaning of this?” she demanded, her voice sounding more shrill than she had hoped.
One of the masked strangers stepped forward, lowering his weapon and removing his helm with his free hand. As he shook out his long brown hair, she recognized him from Cedrik’s court. He was one of the captains of his army who served under the cold Commander Mattis. She searched through her fear-addled mind for his name.
“Captain Jorge,” she finally said, her hands trembling beneath her blanket shield.
“My lady,” Jorge said with a bow. “Please, do not be alarmed.”
She raised an eyebrow at him, wishing her pounding heart wound not beat so loud. Still she thought that if her wish came true, her heart might never pound again. Swallowing and taking a deep breath, she tried to compose herself. She was, after all, her father’s daughter. It would not do for her to seem frightened of a few men.
Jorge moved to the window and gestured for her to look. She kept a lingering eye on the remaining armed men and followed the captain’s gaze. She saw a few figures running through the wooden gates that lead into the city. One was obviously injured, relying on another to support him. The second-to-last figure lingered for a moment at the gate before being shoved out of the citadel by the final fugitive.
“The Warrior of the Huryl,” Jorge said with contempt in his voice.
She looked down again with renewed interest, but the figure of the Warrior had already disappeared.
“She murdered our king,” Jorge finished, turning away from the window.
Cedrik is dead. I am doomed, she thought.
“The citadel is in disarray,” Jorge continued. “The lords are fighting amongst themselves, the army has gone after the Warrior, and Commander Mattis has vanished without a trace.”
She straightened her back, as befit her station. If Captain Jorge was here to behead her, so be it. Her life had not been her own since she had been brought here all those years ago. A pretty bird to sing in a gilded cage, in exchange for her father’s allegiance.
“Do what you must, Captain,” she said, grateful to know that her bravery had finally arrived.
She closed her eye, expecting a sword through the stomach or an axe to the neck. Instead she heard the creaking of armoured joints and the clash of steel against stone. Opening her eyes, she found the men in her room kneeling before her, including Captain Jorge. Startled, she let the blanket fall, revealing the diaphanous gown which she wore.
“My lady Samara,” Jorge stammered, “Your Highness. We beseech you.”
Princess Samara of the Samran tribe could no longer hide her confusion. “What do you mean?”
Jorge bowed his head to her. “The King is dead. Long live the Queen.”
***
Our journey through the Huryl mountains was quick and silent. We dared not linger or even speak in case the soldiers Commander Roric sent out were close by. I stayed near Fynn, or perhaps I should say he stayed near me. He was like my shadow during our escape, never more than a few feet from my side. Jakob and Will lead the way, and their arguments were reduced to frantic hand gestures and stamping feet. Cyrus cared for Damaeon, upset that I had decided that we should first return the silver acorn to the elves before we attempted to restore Oponoe to its former glory.
As we moved, I could not help but think of Mattis. He was the Faerie Queen’s problem now, but I had a nagging suspicion that I had not seen the last of him. I could not share my concerns with Fynn, who stubbornly refused to talk to me about it. I could not talk to Jakob either, since I knew he was going through his own difficulties. His father had attempted to kill us, had sent the royal army after us, only seconds after admitting his love for his son. Although I had never been particularly close to either of my parents since Nathan’s death and their divorce, I knew the pain of rejection.
In no time, we made it to the open plain where Fynn had confronted the Faerie Queen for the last time. I put my hand to the locket I still wore as we passed the place where she had forsaken him, and was comforted by its presence. I could see the tall trees of the Elven Forest, and I smiled gratefully to myself that we were nearly there.
“Come on!” I shouted to my friends, running through the grass to the trees.
“Leila!” Fynn called in alarm, but I ignored him.
Beside me, I saw the grass spirits leaping through the plants like dolphins in the sea. I laughed and ran faster, noticing the tree spirits around the edge of the forest beckoning me closer. The mark on my palm tingled and I felt happy for the first time in a long time.
“Leila!” Fynn said again, and I saw that he was next to me, matching my speed effortlessly. “Wait for the others. You know Damaeon can’t move that fast.”
I slowed to a halt and nodded. “You’re right. I should do something about that.”
I could hardly control the feeling of freedom within me. It threatened to burst out of my chest and I wanted to scream for joy, for anger, for everything. The tension of being in the Huryl citadel was finally allowed to escape, and I wanted everyone to be released from its grip.
“Damaeon!” I called, skipping back to him.
The Prince raised his head weakly and smiled. He was breathing hard, and I could see the pain in his eyes, but he bore it bravely. My mood was dampened slightly, and I grew all the more determined to share my exuberance with everyone.
“Here, sit down,” I told him, motioning to a nearby rock.
Damaeon regarded me warily but did as he was told. Cyrus stepped back, and for a moment I thought I saw relief on his face as he was able to set down his burden. I shook my head, chiding myself for not doing this sooner. Damaeon was living with the pain of being tortured and imprisoned by Cedrik, and Cyrus was dutifully shouldering as much of that pain as he could.
“I should have done this a while ago,” I told the prince softly.
“Leila, what are you doing?” he asked me suspiciously.
“Taking away the pain,” I replied. “Just sit still.”
“Leila,” the prince began, but I just smiled at him and held out my hands. Cautiously, he took them in his own.
The smile never left my face as our hands began to glow with a soft white light. Jakob, Cyrus, Will, and Fynn crowded around us as the glow spread to engulf both myself and Damaeon. The prince gasped, although I knew what I was doing did not hurt him. How could it, when it felt so warm and right? I felt his pain melting away, his wounds healing, and the strain of our journey vanish. As the glow faded, I released his hands.
“How do you feel?” I asked.
Damaeon rose to his feet and moved his shoulders. He took a few steps and smiled happily. He threw his arms around me, squeezing me so tightly I saw spots floating before my eyes. As he released me, he seemed to remember what had just happened and held me at arm’s length.
“Are you okay?” he asked. “What did you do? Are you … yourself?”
I laughed. “I’m fine Damaeon, really.”
The prince smiled. “And so am I. Thank you, Leila.”
“We should keep moving,” Jakob said as he stalked past us and continued towards the forest. With a final squeeze of Damaeon’s hand, I moved to join him in the lead. We made it to the edge of the forest, with only a short distance to go before we arrived at the Elven border. I wondered what kind of reception we would be likely to get from the elves, especially since we were returning with Fynn and Will. Once we were within the trees, Jakob halted our party and looked at me.
“We could stop here for the night and reach the elves by morning,” he told me, “but since you seem so full of energy, perhaps we should keep going?”
The tone of his voice was sharp and bordering on unfriendly. I wondered what I had done to deserve his harsh words. He stood in front of me impatiently, waiting for my answer. |
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| family reunion |
[Aug. 17th, 2006|02:28 pm] |
“Leila!” Jakob called again.
I bit my lip in frustration as the woman’s screams began to die down, leaving only their lingering echo in my mind. I turned to my friends, who were anxiously gathered by the gate. Will and Jakob had each picked up a discarded sword, and Fynn was holding Clothis’ sword, which he had used in his fight with Mattis. Cyrus was holding Damaeon upright, his eyes moving quickly around the courtyard for signs of trouble.
“Can’t you hear that?” I asked. “We have to help her!”
Jakob shook his head. “It’s too late for her, Leila. If we go back into the palace now, we could be captured again ourselves. With Cedrik and Mattis gone, we need to use this time to escape.”
Will was gesturing urgently to me, his mouth angrily forming words that only he could hear. I took one last glance at the citadel where the screaming woman remained, and ran across the sandy arena to the gate. Jakob waited until I had passed him before following, as if to ensure that I would not change my mind and run back. Fynn and Will were pushing the large wooden gates open and peering outside for signs of ambush. As they disappeared into the city, Jakob pushed me after them and I stumbled out of the citadel.
Raising my head, I found myself in an open yard that surrounded the steps to the palace. Houses lined the yard on three sides, with broad streets running from each corner and much narrower alleys snaking between them. A fountain bubbled in the centre, devoid of spirit life, and a few merchant stalls were set up around it. I paused to take in the scene and wondered where all the people had gone. Jakob took me firmly by the elbow and lead me down the steps where the others waited. Quickly, we skirted around the closest building and into the shadows of the alley.
I saw that Damaeon was breathing hard, leaning heavily on Cyrus’ shoulder. The young Dyrel also did not look like his normal self, and I wondered what happened to him in Cedrik’s dungeons. Shrugging free of Jakob, I moved to crouch next to Damaeon and put my hand on his arm.
“Are you all right?” I asked softly. “I can try to heal your wounds again, now that I’ve rested.”
Damaeon shook his head and raised his eyes to meet mine. He smiled, although I could see his vision was clouded with pain.
“Save your strength,” he told me. “I’ll be fine.”
“Someone must have seized control of the palace by now,” Jakob muttered to himself, peering out of the alley towards the citadel. “The troops will be out soon in force to find us.”
I shuddered. “Revenge for killing the previous king?”
Jakob smiled wryly. “I doubt we’ll be offered a reward. We better keep moving.”
Will motioned for us to follow him and headed down the alley. Jakob seemed less than pleased with the idea, but would not be left behind. Cyrus and Damaeon were already moving when I felt a hand in mine. Glancing over my shoulder, I saw Fynn standing beside me with Clothis’ sword still in his other hand. He didn’t look at me, but gently lead me down the darkened passage. I relished the feel of his warm hand in mine, the same hand that had ripped Mattis’ soul from his body not long ago.
At the end of the path, Will raised his hand to stop us from moving and disappeared into the street. I peeked around Fynn’s shoulder and saw that this area of the city was just as empty as the courtyard in front of the palace had been. Had the citizens of the capital been evacuated? Were they all hiding? Will returned and put a finger to his lips, pressing his back against the brick walls of the houses. A minute passed and I could hear the pounding of boots on the cobblestone, a small detachment of troops marching by as they combed the city for us. Will waited a minute longer before motioning for us to follow him into the street.
I expected more resistance as we crept further away from the Huryl citadel, towards the main gates where we had entered undetected only yesterday. Then, the city had been filled with the sounds of life. I had heard them from my hiding place in the cart, thinking that any one of those voices could reveal us. Now, the city was deserted, the doors to the houses closed and the windows blocked with curtains or boards. The people were terrified, like the citizens of Oponoe had been after the Huryl assault. I squeezed Fynn’s hand tighter, realizing for the first time that the people of Oponoe were gone, and perhaps Cyrus and Damaeon were all that remained of the once beautiful city. I had failed them again.
We hid as another patrol marched by, and Will gestured for us to hurry. Ahead, I saw the broad main street spread out before us, usually a turbulent river of people and animals. We would have to cross it in full view to reach the road leading back into the mountains. I took a deep breath and let it out slowly as Will motioned for us to move.
We ran, Will in the lead followed by Cyrus and Damaeon, then Fynn and I, with Jakob guarding our rear. The gate drew closer, increasing in size and clarity as the distance between us shrank. My mood began to improve, and I thought we would make it after all. No more blood would be shed, and no one else would die. The Huryl would let us depart with the silver acorn and the war would be ended. I almost laughed for joy when a single form stepped from the shadowed archway to block our path. The laughter died unused in my throat as we skidded to a halt in front of Roric.
He held his axe loosely in two hand, an almost apologetic expression on his face as he stood between us and our freedom. Fynn began to push me behind him, but I stubbornly remained by his side. Will held his sword ready, but it was Jakob who stepped to the front to face his father.
“Stand aside, Father,” Jakob said.
“Father?” Cyrus repeated, looking inquiringly at Damaeon. The prince shrugged.
“Surrender, Jakob,” Roric countered. “I can’t let you or your friends leave.”
“Who are you going to give us to?” Jakob laughed. “The King and your precious commander are dead. No one rules the Huryl now.”
“But someone will soon, and you’ll have to answer for your crimes.”
Jakob raised his sword, tears glistening in his hardened eyes. Roric lowered his weapon and frowned, his torn emotions evident from the expression on his face.
“What happened, son? You were always such a good boy, so helpful around the farm. You were a soldier with a promising future. Why did you throw it away?”
Jakob shook his head. “It was your future, not mine. Father, you enlisted me in the army without asking me. How could you force me to fight?”
My eyes widened as I was brought suddenly back to the night in the Tyrzel fortress, when the sand spirits had shown each of us our deepest regrets. I had faced the ghost of my brother, and Jakob had been consumed in a duel with his father. I brought my hand unconsciously to the locket beneath my shirt and felt Fynn’s grip on my hand tighten.
“Being a soldier is a good life,” Roric was saying. “It was good enough for your grandfather and your father, but not good enough for you? Is that it? Jakob, when will you see that serving your king is the greatest joy anyone can have!”
“I don’t serve any king,” Jakob replied. “I followed my father, hoping to win his respect. But I see now I have lost it forever. If you continue to love me at all, let me leave. I won’t be a disappointment to you anymore.”
Roric’s face fell, and the axe sagged slightly in his grip. He glanced over at me, his face echoing some of the kind man I had met in the forest long ago. Serving the power-hungry Cedrik and Mattis had changed him, I could see, but I knew he was still a good man to have had a son like Jakob.
“Jakob, I do love you,” Roric said pleadingly, as if by sheer sincerity he could convince his son to believe him. He sighed and stepped to one side. “You’re not a disappointment to me. Hurry up, and-“
“There they are!”
I gasped as Huryl soldiers suddenly materialized all around us, running down the main street with parade ground precision and stepping clear of the alleyways that we had used to make our escape. There were about twenty in total. A man dressed similarly to Roric stepped up beside him and put his hand firmly on Roric’s shoulder.
“Good job, Captain,” the man said. “When we find Commander Mattis, there will be a promotion for you for sure.”
“Wait,” Roric objected weakly.
“Something wrong, Captain?” the other soldier asked. “Or should I say, Commander?”
Roric went pale and mouthed the new title to himself. Jakob moved backwards, as our small group converged together. Damaeon and I were pressed in the centre while Cyrus, Will, Jakob, and Fynn guarded us.
“Seize them,” Roric finally said, almost regretfully.
“Not without a fight,” Cyrus declared.
Will nodded vigorously in agreement. I closed my eyes and grasped Damaeon by the arm as the sound of swords clashing together assaulted my ears. One by one, I felt my protectors leaving their post, drawn into the battle until Damaeon and I stood exposed. I opened my eyes to see the Dyrel prince holding a sword in one hand and grasping his wounded side with the other, keeping the soldiers away from me. I had no idea where he had picked up the weapon, but I knew we would not escape until all the Huryl were gone.
“No more,” I whispered. “No more deaths. Cireno, Clothis, Cedrik, Mattis, Gael, the people of Oponoe, and all the bodies lying in the Spirit Wood.”
The wind picked up around me as I called to the spirits with the strength of my conviction. I felt myself rising into the air, my tattered white robe swirling as all eyes gazed my way. The battle forgotten, my friends and the Huryl could only stare.
“There will be no more human blood spilled,” I said loudly. “I was not brought here for that purpose. The time is almost upon us and I will be delayed no longer.”
Part of my brain pondered that last statement, wondering exactly what I had meant. Meanwhile, the rest of me was preparing our departure. I returned to the earth as the wind disappeared and with two swift gestures, the fire spirits came to my aid and pushed the Huryl back with two walls of flame. Calmly, I walked between them to where the gate lay undefended. I heard my friends stumbling to follow and soon we were out of the Huryl city. Fynn was by my side in a heartbeat, his arms ready to catch me if I fell, but rather than feeling drained, I was invigorated by the spirits.
“What was that?” Cyrus asked, his eyes wide and voice full of awe.
I shook my head. “I’m not entirely sure.”
“Hurry, before the flames die down,” Jakob urged, leading them through the mountain pass, away from the city.
“Fynn,” I asked as we moved.
“Is this going to be another explanation?” Fynn asked, catching me as I stumbled over some loose rocks.
“I know, I’m never content to let things be,” I said for him, “but I wanted to know what you did to Mattis.”
Fynn smiled. “I made him the Woodwalker.”
I blinked in confusion and stopped dead in my tracks. Ahead of us, the rest of our group carried on. Fynn looked down at me in annoyance.
“You did what?” I repeated.
“I gave his soul to the Faerie Queen. He’s locked in the servitude I was forced to ensure for centuries. A good punishment, don’t you think?”
I shook my head. “He could still come after us.”
Fynn’s eyes narrowed. “Did you want me to kill him?”
The image of Fynn with Clothis’ blood on his hands and pooling around his feet leapt unbidden in my mind. As much as I despised Mattis, I didn’t want anyone to die.
“Of course not.”
“I didn’t think so,” Fynn’s easy smile returned. “Besides, if she does to him what she did to me, Mattis won’t be out of her sight for at least a century. Maybe longer, if she really likes him.”
His smiled was contagious, and I laughed as I began to move again. Mattis, at least, had survived. This gave me some comfort, knowing that it was one less death I was responsible for. Still, the thought of Mattis as the Woodwalker gave me chills and I was shivering by the time we caught up to Jakob and the others.
“We’re far enough from the main road to rest for a bit,” Jakob decided.
Will was already scrounging around for some wood for a fire. Damaeon was leaning against a
rock, his head tilted up and his eyes closed. I could almost feel his pain as he laboured to breath. Cyrus sat next to him, doing his best to make the prince comfortable.
Will returned with a few twigs and dropped them unceremoniously to the ground. Mimicking the task of striking flint and steel, he raised his hands and shook his head, indicating that there was no way to light the fire. I pointed to the wood and a flame ignited, causing Will to jump back in surprise. He looked at me with wide eyes, then relaxed and smiled in thanks.
Jakob took the wrapped acorn from his belt and held it carefully in his hand. “What should we do next, Leila? The elves need this acorn.”
“And Damaeon needs to return to Oponoe,” Cyrus spoke up. “We need to gather any people who survived and rebuild.”
“The citizens are either in the caves or the mountain stronghold,” Damaeon said weakly. “From Oponoe, I can send runners. I’m sure some people have returned by now.”
I nodded as I sat next to the fire, Fynn beside me. I leaned back against his chest and thought about what to do next. Without the acorn, the Elven Queen would die and with her all the elves. But if I didn’t get Damaeon somewhere safe soon, he could possibly die as well. It was important for the Dyrel to gather some strength before the Huryl did, or whoever seized the Huryl throne would be able to claim Oponoe without a fight. I sighed, wondering why such difficult decisions were always left to me. |
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| one-year summary |
[Aug. 14th, 2006|11:41 pm] |
I have just completed the summary of the first year of Spirit Saga. I will place it behind an LJ Cut since it is quite a bit longer than my usual entries.
It might interest you to know that the story encompasses 78 chapters and over 200 pages in my word processing program. I have manage to boil the summary into 12 pages.
I hope this will encourage new readers to join in for our second year, and I apologize for the delay in the next chapter. It took me longer than I expected to write out the summary!
( Spirit Saga: Year One ) |
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| anniversary |
[Aug. 2nd, 2006|10:14 am] |
Many thanks, dear readers! We have made it to our one year anniversary!
I would like to post a summary of what has happened in the saga thus far, but I have not had the opportunity to write it.
And fear not, the next chapter will be coming soon. It's amazing how busy ones life can suddenly become, is it not?
Thanks again, and please continue to journey with Leila and her friends. |
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| servitude for freedom |
[Jul. 12th, 2006|10:33 pm] |
I looked from right to left, weighing my options. Neither passage seemed particularly friendly in my opinion, and neither looked like it would bring us safely out of the Huryl citadel. I walked to the centre of the crossroads, past Jakob, and made a pretence of studying the area as if it would somehow make the decision for me. I turned to meet the eyes of my companions, hoping that one of them would give me a look other than blind trust. Jakob, Cyrus, Damaeon, and Will all regarded me with the utmost confidence that I would lead them to safety. Fynn, on the other hand, was not looking at me at all. He was staring down the right hand passageway, his brown eyes narrowed in concentration. Blinking, I allowed my gaze to follow his, curious as to what had caught his attention.
The voices that had been coming from the right had abruptly ceased, and then came back as softened whispers. I strained to hear what was being said, but the sound of rapidly approaching footsteps filled my ears instead. As the echoing sound grew nearer, I spun around and pointed down the left passage.
“This way,” I decided. At least, I reasoned, the people down this hall didn’t know we were coming.
We hurried towards the sound of clashing swords, away from the voices who threatened to chase us down the hallway. I winced as the clang of metal on metal grew louder, and realized miserably that I was the only one of my companions who was armed. Clothis’ sword bumped against my back and I wondered if my guardian spectre would make another miraculous appearance.
I lead the way, followed closely by Jakob and Will. Cyrus came next, still supporting the injured Damaeon, and Fynn brought up the rear. It wasn’t long before I saw a bright light in the shape of a doorway ahead of us, and a smile flew to my lips. Sunlight! We were heading in the right direction after all. I picked up the pace, eager to be free of the dismal stone walls of the citadel. At the doorway, however, Jakob caught my arm and pulled me back, putting a finger to his lips. I dutifully pursed my own lips shut as he cautiously peered out. Curiousity getting the better of me, I peeked over his shoulder.
It looked like a large playground to my untrained eyes. Surrounded on all sides by tall stone walls, it was an open courtyard about half the size of a football field. The ground was covered in yellow sand, with a stone walkway lining the rim. The sky above it was a dazzling blue, a flock of birds flying across the hanging sun. I took a deep breath of the fresh air and nearly stepped into the light when Jakob pointed to the cause of the clashing swords.
The arena was full of Huryl soldiers, doing mock battles with each other to prepare for the war with the Dyrel. There were hundreds of them, all armed and determined to serve their country. I swallowed hard. On the other side of the drilling soldiers was a tall wooden gate that undoubtedly lead to the city itself.
“We can sneak around the edge,” Jakob whispered, his mouth so close that I could feel the warmth of his breath on my ear.
I nodded and allowed him to take the lead. Motioning for the others to follow, we silently made our way around the sanded area towards the gate. We made it about half way around before our movement was noticed by the drill sergeant and a sharp whistle brought us to the attention of all the soldiers in the courtyard. Jakob pushed me behind him, drawing Clothis’ sword from the sheath on my back as he did so. Will held a long dagger he had stolen from somewhere and stood at my other side. I knew at once that resistance was pointless; we were outnumbered a hundred to one. The Huryl recruits surrounded us, their swords drawn and aimed at our throats.
I heard applause from somewhere among the soldiers, coming closer as whoever it was advanced. The troops melted away from the man, creating a channel through which he could pass safely to us. I recognized him right away.
“Mattis,” I said, my voice dripping with hatred.
The self-proclaimed prince of the Dyrel stood before us, clapping his hands together and smiling smugly. With a negligent gesture, all the Huryl surrounding us back off, disappearing through doorways until we stood alone in the now deserted courtyard.
“Leila,” Mattis said, ignoring the sword Jakob held at him. “I really must thank you for killing Cedrik. With him out of the way, nothing is stopping me from being king.”
I paled at the thought of Mattis in charge of all of the Huryl tribes. Glancing behind him, I saw Ellena standing a few paces away, watching with a worried expression on her face.
“To thank you,” Mattis continued, “I shall kill you first, Leila, so you won’t have to watch your friends suffer. But they will suffer, believe me.”
Jakob cried out in anger and tried to rush at Mattis, but Fynn put his hand on the former Huryl’s shoulder, holding him back. With a slight shake of his head, Fynn walked out from behind Jakob and stood unarmed in front of Mattis.
“You hold something you no longer deserve,” Fynn accused Mattis. “Release it.”
“Fynn?” I asked, wondering what on earth he was talking about.
“Never,” Mattis laughed. “It was given freely to me, and I will keep it forever.”
Behind him, Ellena lowered her head and clasped her hands in front of her. Fynn kept his eyes firmly on Mattis, holding out his hand as if expecting the Huryl commander to return something. Mattis drew his sword and swung at the Woodwalker, who easily avoided his clumsy blow.
“The locket you wear around your neck,” Fynn reminded him as they circled each other. “It contains a faerie’s wings. Return them to her.”
“No!” Mattis roared, clasping at his neck with his free hand.
“Aefynnelldar,” Ellena spoke up suddenly, taking a step towards him.
“He is not worthy of you,” Fynn spat, turning to face the sorceress.
“I love him,” she whispered.
“He does not love you. He cannot love you. All he desires is power, which you have given to him.”
My eyes widened as the full impact of the conversation hit me at once. I recalled my meeting with Ellena in the dungeons of the palace in Oponoe. She had spoken of her youth with Mattis, how easy it was for her to love him, until it was too late.
“I had alienated my family against me, and they cast me aside. I was bound to Mattis by an unbreakable bond, and I am still bound.” Ellena had said.
Ellena shook her head, her long blonde hair whipping across her face. “He does love me. I know he does. He has strayed from his path, but I can lead him back.”
Fynn backed up to where we were gathered, standing in slack jawed amazement. The Woodwalker held out his hand to Jakob, who placed Clothis’ sword in it without a word.
“Whatever happens,” Fynn said to me, “don’t interfere.”
I nodded mutely as Mattis lunged at Fynn again. This time, Fynn held up his weapon to block the attack, the sound of the two heavy swords clashing together echoed off the stone walls of the citadel. Ellena stood with her hands at her mouth, tears forming in her eyes as she watched the two men duel. I forced my eyes off the battle to look more closely at her, finally seeing the resemblance between her and the other faerie who served the Queen.
Fynn swung at Mattis, cutting him in the arm. The commander cried out in pain as blood welled to the surface, but the madness remained in his eyes as he screamed in anger.
“Give me strength so I can kill him,” Mattis cried to Ellena.
Wordlessly, she raised her hands to do as he bid. She hesitated and lowered her arms, shaking her head as she did so.
“Do it! I command you!” Mattis snarled. “I need more power.”
“I have given you too much power,” Ellena whispered.
Mattis roared in frustration and threw himself at Fynn again, lashing out with his sword and nearly striking. Fynn was able to dodge all of the blows, while inflicting several more minor wounds on his opponent. Ellena gasped and took a few steps towards him, her eyes full of worry.
“Stay away,” Mattis snapped. “I don’t need you if you won’t give me more power. Don’t come near me anymore.”
I winced inwardly as I saw the impact of those words register on Ellena’s face. She went limp, looking more like a porcelain doll than ever before. Tears streamed down her pale face as Fynn succeeded in knocking Mattis down and stood with the sword to his throat.
Reaching down with his free hand, Fynn tore the locket from Mattis’ neck and tossed it to Ellena. The sorceress caught it easily, her eyes still locked on Mattis. Glancing over his shoulder, Fynn’s eyes met those of the sorceress, and he nodded once to her. Lowering his hand once more, Fynn passed his hand through Mattis’ chest. I felt a sudden sickening feeling in the pit of my stomach and a wave of nausea swept over me.
“Leila, are you all right?” Jakob asked as I put my hand on his shoulder to steady myself.
I nodded, my eyes locked on Fynn. Mattis screamed in pain as Fynn extracted a glowing white sphere from his body and held it on the palm of his hand. Dropping Clothis’ sword into the sand, Fynn rose to his full height and raised his head to shout at the heavens.
“Majesty, a parting gift,” he called. “I give to thee my replacement, a new walker of the woods at night to gather for thee the mortal souls you desire. Accept it!”
A shimmering portal materialize in the courtyard of the Huryl citadel, and a faerie walked out, his wings shimmering in the sunlight. He held a silver wooden box lined with purple velvet. Bowing once to Fynn, the faerie opened the box, revealing a small silver locket inside. Fynn gently placed Mattis’ soul inside the box, watching as the locket absorbed it and the faerie snapped the lid shut.
My hand went to the locket around my neck, the one that had belonged to the Faerie Queen, stolen by Will and given to me for safe keeping. The soulless body of Mattis rose mechanically to its feet at a gesture from the faerie, and followed him through the white portal. In an instant, the faerie and the Huryl commander were gone. Fynn bent to retrieve Clothis’ sword and walked back to where we waited. He did not smile as he handed the weapon back to Jakob, but turned to face Ellena.
The sorceress stood with the locket in the palm of her hand. With trembling fingers, she opened it. He hair flew back as if as sudden gust of wind had struck her, revealing her pointed faerie ears. Glowing lights circled her warily, finally settling on her back as two large opalescent wings appeared, shimmering in the light. She gave the wings a shakes, a sad smile spreading across her delicate features.
“Thank you, Aefynnelldar,” she said. “I will speak to Her Majesty on your behalf.”
Fynn shook his head. “We are both freed now.”
Ellena bowed her head and disappeared through another white portal that appeared and vanished in the twinkling of an eye. Alone in the deserted courtyard, my head spinning at what had just happened, I could only stare in shock at Fynn.
“Shall we go?” he asked.
I nodded, when suddenly a blood curdling scream came from the citadel. It was a woman’s cry, reverberating off the stone walls. It sounded like whoever was screaming was terrified, or in pain. I wondered if perhaps it was one of Cedrik’s forgotten prisoners.
“Leila, come on,” Jakob said.
He and the others were already half way to the gate, but the memory of that scream still bounced through my head. If it was another prisoner, should we not try to save her? Or should we escape from the citadel while we could? |
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| the toad king |
[Jul. 4th, 2006|04:07 pm] |
I awoke with a start as the curtain was yanked off my cage. I stretched my back, stiff and sore after yesterday’s battle and spending the night sleeping on a hard floor. The weight of Clothis’ sword was a small comfort, although I wondered why I had been allowed to keep the weapon with me while my other friends had been disarmed. Perhaps King Cedrik knew as well as I did that in my hands, a sword was largely ornamental. Blinking against the sudden light, I saw two guards standing impatiently by the door of my prison. I hesitated a moment before crawling towards them, lacking the space to stand in my small cage. Without a word, they swung open the small door, grabbed me by the arms, and dragged me across the polished floor. I was roughly dropped before the throne and I quickly scrambled to my feet before anyone could accuse me of kneeling before the Huryl king.
Cedrik sat on his throne as if he had never left. He stared at me with an amused smile on his lips. I knew I must have appeared desperate, my clothes torn and stained, my hair a mess and my skin covered with dirt. Still, the king wanted something only I could give, so I stood with my head high and my eyes hard.
“Good morning,” he greeted me. “I trust you slept well?”
I didn’t give him the satisfaction of an answer. Cedrik waved his hand and the guards disappeared from the hall, leaving the two of us once again alone. He leaned forward, his eyes twinkling with greed.
“Give me the power of the three worlds,” he ordered.
“No,” I replied.
The response seemed to shock him at first. He sat back in his throne, his massive bulk readjusting to compensate for the shift in his weight, and he frowned at me.
“Need I remind you that both you and your friends are my prisoners?”
“You’ll kill them and me no matter what I do.”
“Now, now, Leila,” the king chided. “I can be fair. You will all go free if you give me what I desire.”
I shook my head, surprised at how brave and calm I felt. “I can’t give you the power you seek.”
The toad king’s calm face rearranged its features slowly to express his anger. His skin turned red and his beady eyes blazed. He curled his hands into fists and screamed a terrifying noise. I closed my eyes until the moment passed, then reopened them to find the king staring at me, his chest heaving.
“No one refuses me!” he cried.
In the height of his anger, his appearance changed more. His skin did not lose its flushed hue, and his eyes became wider and black as night. I took a step back in spite of myself, my earlier bravery fading away as my heart pounded in my chest. One of my hands went to the locket at my throat, clutching at it like a life preserver.
“The power will be mine!” Cedrik yelled, extending his arm in my direction.
A blast of energy struck me full in the chest and sent me flying. I hit the wall with such force, I’m sure I left an indentation in the stone. Gritting my teeth against the pain, I rose to my feet and faced the king once more. I didn’t dare summon help in case Ellena’s threat was still true. I would not put my companions in any more danger. I would not see another friendly face lifeless on a stone slab.
Cedrik laughed and closed his extended hand into a fist. I felt some strange pressure around me, squeezing me on all sides like the coils of a snake. Spots swam before my vision and I began to feel fain when the pressure suddenly dissipated, and I was tossed into the air and caught like a ball. I tried to regain my breath as I was thrown about the room, sometimes caught and other times missed. As I fell towards the hard ground, it was as if something was pushing me from above, and I struck the tiles with unbelievable force.
I wanted to stay down, to give up and die in that place, but a strength surged inside of me. Rising unsteadily to my feet, I wiped the blood that was trickling down my face. I was beaten, broken and bruised, but not defeated. Never defeated by a man like that. Cedrik smiled pleasantly at me, his face still red and his black eyes glistening. Slowly, I reached behind me and drew Clothis’ sword. Holding the naked blade before me, I faced the demonic Huryl king.
“That’s not a toy, Leila,” Cedrik spoke in a voice that reminded me eerily of my father. “Give me what I ask.”
“You will never have the power of the three worlds,” I told him, although I was unsure exactly what he asked.
Cedrik unleashed another blast of energy at me, but I stood firm. The sword cut through the attack and I felt a spirit presence stirring nearby. Still fearful for the safety of the others, I silently pleaded for the spirit to disappear. I could sense its disappointment and reluctance as it faded. Cedrik held out his other hand, intensifying the blow. It was sharp, like tiny icicles flying through the air, cutting at my skin. My felt slid backwards, but I held the sword like a talisman against the king’s magic.
“Leila!”
My eyes widened in surprise as I turned my head slightly towards the sound of the voice I knew so well. It was Jakob, standing in the doorway, pounding on thin air as an invisible shield kept him from leaping to my aid. He appeared haggard and dirty, as did the three men behind him. My heart soared as I recognized Cyrus and Will, apparently unhurt. I did not know the final man, taking him to be a poor soul rescued from the dungeon when my friends escaped.
But they were safe! My friends were safe!
I turned back to Cedrik, catching movement from the opposite side of the doorway. A staircase descended into the throne room, and at the base of the stairs I saw the concerned face of Fynn. Strengthened by the presence of my companions, I smiled to the king.
The spirits leapt to my command, the wind picking up around me and dispelling the vicious attacks of the king. The torches along the walls flared to new heights and licked at the tapestries and coverings. I advanced through the chaos of my creation towards Cedrik, the Huryl king. I once again felt the stirring of an unfamiliar spirit, and I called to it. Clothis’ sword began to glow with an unearthly light as I stood before the throne.
“I will have your power!” Cedrik snarled, heaving himself to his feet and drawing a jewel encrusted sword from beside his throne.
He moved surprisingly swiftly for such a large man, and before I had fully realized what was happening, he was upon me. Hastily I raised my sword to defend myself and heard the clash of metal against metal. I had closed my eyes before the blow and now I cracked them open. Clothis’ sword was no longer in my hands, but hovering in midair before me. The Huryl king’s blade was still against it as he fought the unmanned weapon.
The blade broke free and Cedrik stumbled a step back. My heart pounded as a while hand materialized, gripping the sword. An arm formed quickly after that until a whole figure shrouded in a dazzling light stood over me.
“Clothis?” I breathed.
The white figure didn’t turn to acknowledge me, but I could see her features with remarkable clarity. It was the Dyrel huntress, or her ghost, who had vowed to protect me and who had returned from the grave to fulfill that vow.
As Clothis and Cedrik duelled, I felt warm hands on my shoulders and realized Fynn knelt behind me. I turned into his arms, staining his white shirt with my blood as I cried into his shoulder. He pushed me gently away, still holding my arms as he peered into my eyes.
“Leila, how on earth did you do that?”
I blinked in confusion before a cry from the king drew my attention back to the battle. The shade of Clothis had knocked Cedrik’s sword from his hands, and the king now knelt at her mercy. Clothis held her sword to his throat and I could only watch in numb horror as she calmly slashed his neck. A fountain of blood gushed out, passing through the ghostly figure. As the king toppled over, Clothis raised her sword to me in salute and vanished. The weapon clattered to the ground and the invisible barrier that held back Jakob and the others vanished. All my companions came rushing into the room and surrounded me, their faces full of worry.
I felt overwhelmed by emotion at seeing the faces I thought I would never see again. Jakob hugged me and I winced in pain, battered from my own fight. Will retrieved my sword and held it out to me, his eyes downcast and his face sombre. I took the weapon and sheathed it, still unsure of what to say to the traitor I called friend.
It was then that I got a closer look at the half-dead prisoner Cyrus helped across the hall. Moving slowly as if a sudden motion might cause him to bolt, I fell to my knees before him.
“Damaeon?” I whispered, tears brimming in my eyes.
The Dyrel prince raised his head slightly at my voice, his face a map of cuts and bruises. He kept his left eye closed, a river of dried blood on his cheek beneath it. His cracked lips parted and he raised a shaky hand towards me.
“We found him in the dungeon,” Cyrus said angrily. “When Oponoe fell, he was captured and brought here.”
“He’s been tortured,” Jakob added quietly as I held the princes’ hand. “Who knows what’s been done to him, physically or mentally. Leila, I’m sorry.”
The tears in my eyes made clean rivers down my dirty cheeks. The kind, gentle, scholarly Prince of the Dyrel, forced into a war to protect his people, and treated like a disobedient dog. Closing my eyes, I summoned the spirits to help him, as I had done before. A white glow surrounded us both as I opened my eyes once more. I could see the most harmful of the Huryl ravages fading away, but his left eye remained closed. A wave of dizziness swept over me and I released his hand, unable to do anything more.
“Thank you, Leila,” Damaeon said gratefully. “I knew you would come.”
As the adrenaline from the recent events began to wear off, I found I was utterly exhausted. No longer able to keep my eyes open, I fell backwards into the waiting arms of slumber.
***
I woke not long later to find I was being carried on someone’s back down a long hallway. The whitish blonde hair and pointed ears gave my saviour away, and he glanced back at me as I moved.
“Stop squirming or I’ll drop you,” he warned.
“I can walk on my own,” I protested.
Fynn ignored me and I rested my cheek on his shoulder, breathing in the forest scent he always carried. The rocking motion of his steps nearly lulled me back to sleep when I remembered our original mission to the Huryl capital.
“The silver acorn!” I gasped, sitting up as best I could.
“What did I just tell you?” Fynn said irritably.
“I’ve got it,” Jakob replied quickly, holding out a small bundle wrapped in cloth. He gestured to Will with his chin. “He tried to steal it.”
Will shook his head and pointed to Fynn, pantomiming the Woodwalker touching the acorn and Will covering it with a cloth and handing it humbly to Jakob. The former Huryl snorted in displeasure and resumed his task of leading our group down the hall.
I fell back against Fynn, my thoughts wandering to the recent battle. The Huryl king – former king, I corrected myself – had used magic. That in itself was enough to confuse me, but he also kept shouting about the three worlds.
“Fynn,” I asked, “what are the three worlds?”
The Woodwalker hefted me a bit to adjust my weight on his back before answering. “The three worlds are the lands of the elves, the spirits, and the faerie.”
“What about this world?”
“The correct term for the three worlds is the Otherworlds. The human world isn’t considered, since it is the bridge between the three. Why do you ask?”
“The Huryl king kept demanding I give him the power of the three worlds,” I mumbled, getting sleepy again.
Fynn nodded. “It is within your power to give.”
“It is?” I exclaimed.
“Eventually,” he replied vaguely.
We continued in silence for some time. I was amazed at how long this hallway could be, until I recalled the elven tree and how we had descended deep beneath the earth without ever turning a corner. Perhaps the hallway was the same. I smiled sleepily at the thought of us slowly walking towards the centre of a spiral, only to find a dead end. Cedrik would be the type of king to desire such a feature in his palace.
“Fynn?” I asked again.
“Aren’t you asleep yet?” came the reply.
“The Huryl king could use magic,” I continued, ignoring the comment. “Does that mean the Faerie Queen has his soul?”
“Always questioning, never content,” Fynn sighed. “I’m not sure but I don’t think Cedrik was human. He was probably a fae.”
“Fae?” I repeated the unknown word.
“A disgraced faerie, stripped of his wings and power and exiled to the human world. Most fae die of old age before they realize they’re no longer immortal.”
I fell silent, pondering what Fynn had said. A disgraced faerie, thrown from his world to live among strangers. Is that what I had become, disgraced and exiled? Would I fill with the same kind of rage that had driven Cedrik until I found someone who could send me home? I had not thought of home for a while. I wondered how much time had passed, if anyone missed me or if they had presumed me dead and continued on with their lives. It was hard to picture either of my parents worried about me.
“Hey,” Fynn’s voice interrupted my thoughts.
I opened my eyes, surprised that I had dozed off again. Fynn still carried me tirelessly through the strangely deserted palace. I lifted my head to see that we had come to a crossroads. Jakob stood staring at is, scratching his head in confusion. Cyrus, still supporting the injured Damaeon, stood behind him while Will leaned against the wall.
“It’s been a while since I’ve been in the citadel,” Jakob admitted. “I can’t remember which way takes us out.”
I glanced at Will, who met my gaze reluctantly and shrugged. Once again, it seemed my companions looked to me for a decision. I could hear the sound of voices to the right, and the clatter of swords to the left. I sighed and slid off Fynn’s back to take a closer look. Both ways seemed equally passable, so the decision seemed pretty arbitrary. Should we go left or right? |
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| end of the road |
[Jun. 14th, 2006|10:34 pm] |
I glanced at my surroundings, desperately searching for an answer. Jakob and Cyrus were fighting back-to-back against the Huryl guards, while Fynn held his own a short distance away. I could see the determination in their eyes as they fought, convinced that they would not die. More soldiers were pouring from the citadel, surrounding us in a loose ring and preventing any escape. I turned to Will and Ellena, the sorceress' face shining with victory as Will kept his gaze firmly downcast. Finally, I looked to Roric, the soldier who had saved me in the woods, who had been first a friend and then an enemy. His face was firm, but there was some pleading behind his eyes, and I knew that although he didn't want to hurt me, he would follow his orders.
"Very well," I said. "We will surrender. Just swear that no one will be hurt."
Ellena nodded once and Roric moved his axe from my throat, holding out one hand to help me to my feet. As I took his arm, I saw Cyrus and Jakob staring at me incredulously. The Huryl disarmed them and tied their hands behind their back, but the whole time they looked at me as if I had betrayed them. I was spared this guilt from Fynn, who had his eyes on Ellena, looking as if he had seen a ghost. He barely objected as he was manacled in heavy irons and roughly pushed in the direction of the citadel.
I was kept unbound, but Roric held my arm tightly as he brought me to stand before the sorceress and the traitor. I avoided Will, keeping my eyes on the beautiful face of the Lady Ellena, and regretting any kindness I had shown towards her.
"If I see a single spirit, your friends will die," Ellena warned me. "Come, the King is expecting you."
Taking Will by the hand, she turned and entered the citadel through a small doorway. Roric pulled me after her, and I heard my other companions being shoved behind us. In spite of Ellena's warning, I sent a silent plea to the spirits around the city, asking them to stay near my friends and protect them from harm. The mark on my palm itched in reply, and I could advance feeling slightly better about our situation.
We were brought through twisting corridors which opened into a large pillared hall, decorated with pendants and war trophies. People were milling about, speaking to each other in hushed tones lest their words echo through the massive hall, and they stared at us as we were brought past. I kept my eyes straight ahead, ignoring their hostile eyes and muttered curses. Ellena led us up to a pair of polished wood doors and pushed them open without hesitation.
I had first met the Huryl King after my brief imprisonment in the Tower, when he had brought me to his tent city to test my powers. I was not surprised to see that the fat toad-king had not changed. He lounged on his wide throne, his bulk spreading to each side. He wore only purple pants with golden threat woven into them, his upper torso bare. His body was decorated with massive gold chains, and thick bracelets disappeared in the folds of flesh on his arms. His chubby fingers were decorated with large precious rings. His black hair had grown longer, still hanging in greasy threads from his wide head, with a tiny crown perched on top. His long thin mouth curled into a smile as we approached, and unlike our last meeting, this time I did nothing to hide the contempt in my gaze.
"Welcome," King Cedrik said to his prisoners.
I could almost see Jakob tensing behind me at his words, spoken as if he were greeting distinguished guests. Ellena bowed to him and the figure who stood beside his throne, dressed similarly to the king but with far less jewellery, his face masked in shadow.
"Well, Leila," Cedrik continued, focusing his beady eyes on me, "I have been more than patient with you. I should be angry, but you have come with such wonderful presents for me."
He gestured with one fat hand to my companions standing behind me. I noticed that both Ellena and Will had inched further away from us, standing to one side as if avoiding any association with us.
"The Woodwalker, a Dyrel soldier, and the two traitors," the king named my friends almost eagerly.
Will raised his head at last to look at the king. He looked haggard and defeated, but he refused to turn his head in my direction.
"Forgive me, Majesty," he spoke up, "I was promised forgiveness."
The king shot a look at Ellena, who put her hand on Will's shoulder and whispered something to him. Will's eyes widened in surprise and his face lost what remained of its colour as he dropped his eyes once more to the ground.
The king laughed and began speaking again, but my attention was focused on Will. I wondered what the sorceress could have said to cause him so much alarm so suddenly. As I watched him, he raised his head slightly so his eyes met mine. I thought I saw him flinch, but his gaze didn't waver as he stared intensely at me. I knew he was trying to tell me something, so I watched closely, trying to decipher his message. Suddenly, his eyes moved to his right and then back to mine. I blinked as Will did it again, and this time I allowed my own gaze to follow Will's. He was gesturing to a thin pillar that stood next to the toad king's throne. I looked more closely, noticing that it was covered by a glass lid, and beneath it was something small and silver. I nearly gasped out loud as I realized what Will was showing me - it was the silver acorn!
"Forgive my interruption, Majesty," the shadowed figure interrupted smoothly in a voice that sent a chill down my spine, "but perhaps we should escort our guests to their chambers? They are probably tired from their journey."
My eyes snapped back to the throne as the figure stepped forward and realization struck me like a physical blow. It was Mattis, dressed like a Huryl prince. He wore blue pants and silver sandals, his chest bare with a few heavy silver chains around his neck and a single delicate locket. He wore a diadem on his forehead and smiled down at me from his position next to the king.
"Mattis!" Jakob hissed, vocalizing the anger I felt.
Mattis raised a finger in objection. "Prince Mattis now. His Majesty has granted me the kingdom of the Dyrel as my own, as a reward for my service."
I glanced over my shoulder and saw Cyrus pale and fall to his knees. Tears shimmered in his eyes, but his jaw was locked in anger. My own thoughts were racing at this sudden
declaration. If Mattis was proclaiming himself prince, then what had become of Damaeon?
"I believe you're right," Cedrik agreed. "Bring the traitors to the dungeon. Leave the Woodwalker with the prince, and keep the lovely Leila with me."
"The dungeon?" Will repeated. "Majesty, I did as you bid. You promised to break the curse upon me if I delivered Leila to you."
"What?" Jakob exclaimed as he and Cyrus were surrounded by Huryl soldiers. "You gave us to the Huryl to save your own skin? You gave them Leila?”
Will kept his eyes on the king, who responded to the former soldier’s request with a deep, throaty laugh. I stood frozen in one spot, the full weight of Will’s betrayal sinking into me. I had trusted him to lead us to the Huryl city so we might end this war, never thinking that the victory Will was working towards was not our own. I barely felt the guards holding my arms behind my back, as the king’s cruel laughter rumbled through the hall.
“You demand a reward for your treachery?” the king asked.
“I was cursed by the elves retrieving the acorn for you, Your Majesty,” Will protested. “I was imprisoned in the Tower and left to die on your order. I have brought you the Warrior of the prophecy, and all I ask is that my mind be restored.”
King Cedrik listened thoughtfully for a moment before nodding once to Ellena. The sorceress put her hands on either side of Will’s head and closed her eyes. I could smell the fragrance of lilacs drift through the room as Will’s eyes widened in surprise and a smile spread slowly across his face. As Ellena released him, his eyes moved back and forth as he searched for lingering traces of the elven curse.
Will bowed deeply and opened his mouth to thank the king. His lips moved, but no sound came out. The happiness in his eyes froze at once into terror as he put one hand to his throat and tried in vain to make a sound. The king and sorceress watched him impassively as he stared at them both with pleading eyes.
“You are still a traitor,” Cedrik told him plainly. “Take him to the dungeon.”
Unable to scream, Will’s face contorted in rage as two Huryl guards dragged him, Jakob, and Cyrus out of the throne room. Both Cyrus and Jakob were silent, the one mourning the loss of his country while the other kept his eyes firmly on mine, until our eyes were blocked by the heavy wooden doors.
“Well, Mattis,” Cedrik said to his newly appointed prince, “you have your wish. The Woodwalker is yours to do with as you like.”
Mattis bowed to his king and snapped his fingers at the two guards who stood on either side of Fynn. Even though he wore iron, Fynn stood tall and strong , his face betraying no emotion or thought on his captivity. As the guards pulled him out of the room behind Mattis and Ellena, he winked at me reassuringly. I tried to smile back, feeling anything but reassured at having my friends separated in the Huryl citadel.
Alone with the king, I faced the throne with my head held high. I had already proven myself to this man, long ago when I had been forced to fight their greatest warrior unarmed and alone. I had learned a lot about this world and the spirits I controlled since then, and I found that I felt no fear towards the fat toad-king.
“Leila,” Cedrik said almost hungrily, spit falling from his mouth and dribbling down his chin. “You have failed to fulfill the Dyrel half of the prophecy. This leaves only one way to complete your destiny and return to your world. Give me the powers of the three worlds.”
“I don’t think so,” I replied smugly. “The prophecy says I must give the power to the mightiest Huryl, and you’ve done nothing to prove yourself to me.”
The king’s beady eyes narrowed dangerously. “So, you require a demonstration of just how powerful I am? Foolish girl.”
He snapped his fingers, and the servants and courtiers who had been milling about the hall quickly made for the exits, disappearing behind curtains and down shadowed hallways. In moments, only the king and I remained, facing each others like adversaries in a duel – which, I quickly realized, is what we had become.
The king pressed his hands together at the wrists, keeping the open palms facing me. He gritted his teeth, and suddenly I was picked up off the floor and tossed across the hall like a plastic bag caught in an updraft. I crashed into one of the tall columns that supported the vast ceiling of the hall, and slid to the ground. I sat, stunned and winded, wondering what on earth had just happened. Obviously the Huryl king could use magic, but what did that mean? Had he sold his soul to the faerie, like Damaeon had told me long ago?
Humans have always been known to be unable to use magic. It is in the blood of the spirits, the elves and the faeries.
I felt myself being picked up and dragged back to the throne, where Cedrik sat with a smile on his stretched face. He dropped me unceremoniously to the ground and began to laugh.
“Well, Warrior,” he said. “Have I proven myself to you?”
I stood up and made a show of brushing myself off. The more the king toyed with me, I thought, the longer my friends would be safe. I met the king’s eye squarely and smiled.
“Tricks,” I told him. “Anyone could do it.”
Cedrik’s skin turned red with anger and embarrassment and his face wrinkled in anger. My heart lurched, and I wondered if perhaps I had insulted him too much, but before I could do anything, I was in the air again. This time, I slammed into the ceiling of the hall, held spread-eagle facing down. The king continued to push at me, the pressure making me feel like I was being shoved through the stone ceiling.
“Tricks?” Cedrik roared.
His magic released me and I plummetted head first to the ground. I kept Ellena’s warning firmly in my mind, knowing that if I saved myself from Cedrik’s attacks, the others would die. I knew the king didn’t want me dead, not until I had given him what he wanted, but I wasn’t entirely sure how alive I had to be. Inches above the tiled floor, I stopped. He turned me until I was floating above the ground but facing him in a standing position, unable to move on my own.
“That is enough, for now,” Cedrik said. I could see the sweat pouring off his brow and his chest heaving with exhertion.
He snapped his fingers and the two guards who had brought me to the throne room appeared. Cedrik lowered me into their waiting grasps and gestured to a curtained off area at the back of the throne room. At his motion, the curtains parted and I saw a large cage behind it.
“Make sure she is secure,” Cedrik ordered as the guards dragged me towards the cage. “I’ll deal with her in the morning.”
I was thrown inside only to discover that the bottom of the cage was lined with straw. There was a bucket in one corner that was empty, and other filled with water. I curled my nose in disgust as the curtain was once more drapped over the cage and I was lost in silky shadows.
Sitting on the ground, I drew my knees to my legs and thought of my friends. I had sent spirits with each of them, and now that I was no longer behind watched, I knew I could easily check on them through the eyes of the spirits. The thought gave me some comfort, but I knew I would be left vulnerable while my consciousness was out wandering. I sighed. Should I risk a glance, or stay aware and in my cage? If I did decide to peek at my friends, who should I spy on first? |
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| the traitor returns, part II |
[May. 25th, 2006|10:04 pm] |
It was still early morning as Fynn, Cyrus, and I crouched behind some boulders at the side of the road, waiting for Will and Jakob to return. Will’s madness had resurfaced during the night, and it was with great difficulty that he attempted outlined his plan. When it was clear that no one understood, he growled in frustration and pushed me behind the boulder. Cyrus began to draw his sword when Fynn stopped him and took his place beside me. Will hooted in approval, grabbed Jakob, and ran off. Confused, Cyrus joined us in our hiding spot and we began our long wait.
Fynn sat with his back against the cool stone, his hands behind his head, and his eyes closed in relaxation. I sat across from him, while Cyrus kept a close watch on the path.
“How are you doing?” I asked abruptly.
Fynn opened one eye to look at me and raised an eyebrow.
“I mean,” I stammered, “it’s been two days now since we left the forest, and you haven’t had to … I mean, we haven’t met anyone that you could…”
Fynn opened both eyes and sat up. “Leila, don’t you understand? The forest hold no sway over me anymore.”
“But how are you still here? I mean, without the Faerie Queen’s magic, won’t you fade away?”
A grin spread across his face and he nodded. “I’m not a creature of this world, but a new power sustains me, one that is more … pure than anything I have ever experienced.”
“Who is it?” I asked cautiously.
Fynn shrugged and leaned back. “You’ll meet her soon enough.”
“They’re here!” Cyrus reported before I could argue with the Woodwalker.
Jakob and Will had returned, driving a cart pulled by two old mules. Jakob had a disapproving frown on his face, but Will was singing loudly – and badly – beside him. The cart pulled up next to us and Jakob jumped down. He threw back the old musty covering that sheltered the back of the cart, and gestured for us to enter.
“Not very glamorous,” he apologized, “but Will says this is the only way in. Since we’re Huryl, we’ll drive the cart as close to the citadel as we can, then we’ll all figure out a way inside.”
“Where did you get the cart?” Cyrus asked as he climbed in.
Jakob made a face. “You don’t want to know.”
I followed the Dyrel soldier, curling myself into a ball to ensure that all three of us would fit. I found both Cyrus’ and Fynn’s faces close to mine and forced a smile. Jakob threw the filthy covering over us and we were lost in darkness. The cart started forward with a jerk, and we began the last leg of our journey.
It felt like hours had passed before we stopped again. I could hear the muffled sounds of voices as we moved through the hostile city towards the towering palace in the centre. When the cart slammed to a halt, I tried to calm my pounding heart as I listened. I could hear Jakob’s voice, normal at first before rising in anger. I felt Cyrus tense next to me and saw Fynn’s face harden, when our covering was suddenly flung back and I was blinded by the sudden light.
I sat back in the cart, blinking as chaos erupted around me. I heard shouts, the clashing of swords, and the cries of men. As my sight returned, I saw a familiar face staring at me as the blade of an axe rested carefully by my throat.
“Call off your friends, Leila,” Roric ordered.
I looked around. Jakob, Fynn, and Cyrus were fighting valiantly against at least fifty armed Huryl soldiers. Standing to one side, not participating at all in the fight, was Will. Next to him was Lady Ellena, one hand on Will’s shoulder and a smug expression on her face.
“Will?” I whispered.
He turned his head away from me, his gaze downcast. Ellena tightened her grip and smiled almost pleasantly at me.
“What did you expect from a traitor?” she asked casually. “He would betray his king and country, but not you? Call them off, Leila, or Captain Roric will be forced to kill them.”
Tears filled my eyes as I stared at Ellena and Will. I felt hurt and confused, and in my anger I felt the spirits stirring within me. I disliked being a puppet, having my strings pulled by everyone I met. Fynn, Jakob, and Cyrus were holding their own in the fight, yet Roric and Ellena demanded surrender? If we fought on, we would be grossly outnumbered and outlawed in an enemy city. There would be little chance of escape. So, I asked myself, do we surrender or do we fight? |
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| the traitor returns, part I |
[May. 24th, 2006|04:59 pm] |
I smiled at Jakob and gently removed my arm from his grasp. Cyrus was standing a few feet away, watching me with a frown on his face. Clearly he could not hear what Jakob and I had been discussing, and was not impressed with being left out of our conversation. Will had already starting moving towards the mountain pass with Fynn following. I put my hand on Jakob’s shoulder and looked into his eyes.
“We’ve trusted Will this far,” I said. “I see no reason to mistrust him now simply because he’s not going the way you would choose.”
Jakob continued to look uncomfortable at the situation. I sighed and closed my eyes for a moment, searching for nearby spirits. I located a few rock spirits nearby and smiled to myself.
“I’ve asked the rock spirits of the mountain to warn us of any danger in the pass,’ I assured Jakob. “We’ll be fine.”
“If you’re sure,” Jakob conceded, starting off down the path where Fynn and Will had already gone.
I waited for Cyrus to catch up and trailed after my friends. The Dyrel soldier was unusually silent as we walked, his eyes staring at the ground or wandering aimlessly around the rocky landscape. I wondered what was on his mind.
“Are you all right?” I asked him.
He looked up quickly, his face flushed from embarrassment, before lowering his eyes once more. “Fine, my lady.”
I frowned and hit him playfully on the arm, hoping to encourage him to talk. He looked up the path at our companions, then back at me again, and sighed heavily.
“I guess I’m not used to this,” he admitted. “I’m a soldier. I see an enemy, I fight him, I kill him. But now, now there are enemies appearing out of nowhere, controlling the air. I can’t fight what I can’t see! How am I supposed to protect you, Lady Leila? How do I make sure you fulfill the prophecy?”
I found myself unable to answer his questions, simply because I didn’t know. The questions had plagued me as well, many times since coming to this strange world. How was I supposed to fulfill the prophecy, governing the trials and leading the lands? I didn’t even know what that meant!
“Do your best,” I said to both him and myself. “That’s all anyone can ask for.”
He looked at me, and a smile spread slowly across his young face. He nodded sharply and clasped the hilt of his sword.
“I’ll protect you from whatever those Huryl dogs throw at you, my lady. I swear it.”
I couldn’t help but be amused and flattered at his enthusiasm. I looked up the line of my companions and felt a weight form in my stomach. How far would they go to protect me? Was I really worth their lives? I felt Clothis’ sword on my back and shook my head slightly. They swore they would protect me, and I would do all I could to look out for them.
Our encounter with the Faerie Queen had delayed our journey slightly, and so by the end of the day we were within sight of the Huryl city but still several hours walk away. The rock spirits had found nothing in the mountains that would threaten us, save a few young lions. I turned their presence to our advantage, asking the animal spirits to guard us as we made camp.
I kept a close eye on Fynn, far from his forest home, watching for any of the signs of weakness he had displayed on our last quest. To my surprise, he seemed stronger than ever and just as energetic. I saw the Fynn I had first met in the woods so long ago, yet I still worried how long this would last. Without faerie magic to sustain him, without a connection to the forest, would he vanish without a trace?
“Leila,” Fynn called, motioning for me to join him.
We were camped in a small alcove off the main path, and I walked over to the opening where the Woodwalker stood. He grinned and pointed down the mountain where the Huryl city could still be seen in the fading twilight.
I had half expected the capital to be a series of tents, like the nomadic Tyrzel we had encountered in the desert. Instead, I saw a fortress. It was surrounded by a high stone wall with watchtowers placed at regular intervals. The gates were tall and wooden, reinforced with metal bars. I could not see the buildings behind the walls, but a great citadel rose out of the centre, its features bleak and without decoration. It reminded me of a prison, and I shuddered at the thought.
“I’ve never seen the capital,” Fynn commented. “I’ve never been this far from the woods.”
“How are we going to get in there?” I asked despairingly.
Fynn laughed and put his arm around my shoulder, pulling me close. “Don’t worry, little milkmaid. I suspect Will knows a way.”
I glanced over my shoulder to where Will was slowly sharpening his dagger, a look of extreme concentration on his face.
“Jakob doesn’t trust him anymore,” I remarked softly.
“But you do?” Fynn asked.
I nodded. “I know he’s the reason I’m in this world, but I’m glad I’m here. He may be a thief and a traitor, but he’s a friend.”
“That’s all that matters, isn’t it?”
I bit my lip, my eyes still on Will. I heard Fynn laugh in a low voice and held me tighter in his arms. I turned to face him and found his eyes already on me.
“Always questioning,” he sighed.
“What about you? Now that you’re free, what will you do?”
“Follow you, of course,” he replied without a moment’s hesitation.
I blinked in surprise at the conviction I heard in his words, and felt myself starting to blush. I broke free of his hot embrace and took a few steps away into the night air. I was flattered but at the same time I wanted to scream at Fynn to go away, to live his newfound life and not to waste it on me.
“Leila,” Fynn said softly, misunderstanding my actions.
“It’s late,” I told him, struggling to control the emotion in my voice. “I should get some sleep.”
I heard him turn and walk away without another word. Taking a deep breath, I spun around to rejoin my friends only to find Will standing directly behind me. I gasped and he held a finger to his mouth.
“Shhhh,” he whispered. “We must talk.”
He took my hand in his and pulled me to the other side of the path, far from the flickering firelight that sheltered our friends. He moved with determination, and without any signs of his usual madness. Once again, I saw the wounds on his wrist and the doubt that was surfacing in Jakob began to trickle into my awareness.
When we were safely out of hearing, Will released me. I stood silently as he licked his lips nervously and wrung his hands before him. I wondered if perhaps this was another symptom of his curse, a brief moment of rationality dangled before his eyes only to be quickly snatched away.
“What’s your plan?” I asked carefully.
His head whipped up, his eyes locked on mine, and I saw the panic behind them. He was like an animal caught in the headlights of an oncoming car, watching death approach. I thought of my brother’s last moments before pushing the imagery firmly aside and focusing on the little man before me.
“To get us into the city?” I added helpfully. “The acorn is there, isn’t it?”
Will relaxed visibly and nodded. “The acorn is with the king, in the citadel.”
“How will we get there?”
“You must trust me, Leila. I will bring you there, but you must trust me.”
His madness seemed to have completely vanished, and he stared at me intensely. I found my resolve wavering, wondering why he was being so insistent. Jakob’s warning echoed through my mind.
“Will, what’s this about? You’re behaving like-“
“A normal person?” Will finished the thought for me, arching an eyebrow. “I know. It will pass, it always does. Please, listen. I don’t know how much time I have.”
He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, running one hand through his shaggy brown hair. I watched him, wondering what he could possibly have to say that was so difficult to get out.
“Leila? Is everything okay?” Jakob asked, coming towards us with a torch in his hand.
Will lowered his eyes and began to mutter under his breath. Jakob held the glowing torch higher against the darkness, glancing suspiciously at Will as he did. He moved the light to illuminate my face, and I squinted against the sudden brightness.
“We’re fine,” I assured him.
“Come back to the fire, both of you,” Jakob said, taking me by the arm and leading me across the path. “There could be Huryl scouts out.”
I looked at Will over my shoulder and he raised his head. His eyes were large and pleading, repeating his request to me as he followed me back to camp. I lay down on the cold ground and turned over to face Will, who was still watching me.
“I trust you,” I told him softly.
He smiled hesitantly before rolling over to sleep. I lay motionless near him and the snoring form of Cyrus, wondering what the morning would bring.
***
Apologies, dear readers, but this chapter ended up being longer than I expected. I will post part two tomorrow. In the meantime, please feel free to comment on this chapter. Until tomorrow! |
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| to the dragon's den |
[May. 13th, 2006|05:14 pm] |
Will watched me with pleading eyes, slowing inching away from the group and deeper into the forest. Fynn, too, was eager to move as his gaze swept over the trees for signs of another faerie attack. Cyrus stood firm, with his arms crossed over his chest and a disapproving frown on his young face. I took a deep breath and exhaled slowly.
“Will,” I said at least, “do you know where the acorn is?”
The mad soldier nodded energetically, his long hair leaping around his face. I smiled at him and moved to stand next to him.
“Will can lead us,” I decided. “Since he’s the one who stole the acorn in the first place, I bet he knows who has it. The Huryl won’t realize we have Will to guide us!”
Will flinched a little at my last words, but took me by the hand and steered me through the woods, back in the direction he had come. He moved quickly, increasing the distance between us and our companions, until I could scarcely hear them moving in our wake. I followed willingly, grateful to have found him unharmed and safe. After the battle Fynn had described, I had feared the worst. Glancing at our joined hands, I noticed a red mark circling Will’s wrist. The wound was fresh, and I could see small pinpricks of blood where the skin had been rubbed raw.
“Leila,” Will spoke, his voice soft and hesitant. I waited as he gathered his thoughts, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze.
“Have you still the faerie trinket?” he asked, keeping his back to me.
I reached into my pocket with my free hand and drew out the silver necklace that had once belonged to the Faerie Queen. I held it in my palm, the sunlight breaking through the canopy and glinting off its shiny surface. Will glanced over his shoulder at it for a split second before turning away.
“Put it on,” Will said, “but keep it hidden.”
“Will,” I began, “what’s wrong? You’re acting – “
“Please,” he interrupted, the word barely audible.
Releasing his hand, I slipped the silver chain over my head and tucked the locket away from sight. I felt the metal cool against my skin, and my marked palm began to tingle. I rubbed my hands together absently as I regarded Will. Behind me, I could hear the others catching up.
Turning slightly, I saw Cyrus in the lead, loudly muttering about the insanity in my decision. A few steps behind him was Jakob, rolling his eyes and sighing at the young Dyrel’s rant. Fynn, stoic as ever, ignored his mortal companions as best he could.
As the sun began to set, we reached the edge of the forest, where it began to rise into the foothills of the mountains. The spirits within me were eager to be released after their long dormancy within the Elven Forest, and I proposed we stop for the night. As I gathered wood and permitted the fire spirits to ignite it, I saw Jakob standing on his own a little ways off. I joined him, standing quietly at his side while trying to determine what had caught his attention. Ahead of us, the tree line thinned visibly, replaced by the rocky paths of the mountains. I was reminded of the journey Jakob and I had taken, of the rock spirits, the Huryl, and of the wild man Cireno.
“Penny for your thoughts?” I offered.
Jakob looked at me in confusion. “What for my thoughts?”
I smiled. “It’s a way of asking what you’re thinking.”
The soldier nodded in understanding and returned his eyes to the mountains. “We’re heading for the Huryl capital.”
I blinked in surprise. “Are you sure?”
He pointed to the left of the mountains. “That pass brings you to the road leading to my village. I grew up around here, although I’ve never approached it from this direction.”
I swallowed hard and brought one hand to touch the locket hidden beneath my shirt. For some reason, the motion comforted me. Jakob pointed further up the mountain pass.
“There’s a well used track from the capital to this forest. The loggers use this area for wood, since there aren’t a lot of forests on Huryl lands.”
“Where’s Will leading us?” I asked softly, not yet willing to betray Will’s trust.
“If we follow the mountain pass, we’ll be at the capital tomorrow. I guess we wait until then to see what Will’s up to.”
“Lady Leila! Jakob, sir!” Cyrus called. “Come and eat!”
I tried to smile reassuringly at Jakob as we turned to rejoin our friends, but my expression only served to betray my anxiety. Instead, it was Jakob who tried to reassure me by putting his arm around my shoulders and leading me to the fire.
***
The following morning, we broke camp early as Will lead us confidently towards the mountain path. I exchanged a nervous glance with Jakob, who only nodded slightly and rested his hand on his sword. As the trees began to thin, I could once again see the faeries who hunted us. I’m sure Fynn saw them as well, but he kept his eyes forward and moved purposefully to the forest edge. At the last copse of trees, before the woodland melted into the rough rocky terrain, a sudden chill wind picked up. The breeze quickly became a gale, tearing at our clothes and faces, preventing us from moving forward.
“Leila!” Jakob yelled over the shrieking howl of the wind. “Call off the spirits!”
I shook my head slowly against the force of the storm. “This isn’t their doing!”
“It is hers,” Fynn said calmly.
I looked over at him and found he was completely untouched by the maelstrom around us. He stood relaxed, his arms hanging at his sides and a sad expression on his face. His eyes were focused on a particular spot before him, and I followed his gaze to the root of our problem. Hovering before Fynn was the angry, howling face of the Faerie Queen.
“Aefynnelldar, you have forsaken me!” the Queen moaned. “You have abandoned me for another!”
“It is time,” Fynn told her almost gently. “For centuries I have served you. Release me.”
“Never!” the face cried. The wind picked up as her anger grew. “I found you when all the others had left you. I made you what you are!”
“A heartless collector of souls,” Fynn said. “I have found a new purpose and will no longer be bound to your selfish whims.”
“You cannot live in this world without me,” the Queen laughed.
I felt the necklace begin to burn on my skin. Wincing against the sudden pain, I closed my eyes for a moment. A scene I had never seen before flashed before my closed eyes. I saw a forest, deeper and more ancient than any I had ever known. I heard childish laughter as a small figure with long white-blonde hair and long pointed ears dashed before my eyes. The moment passed, and I was returned to the real world.
“The Lady will sustain me,” Fynn was saying.
The face of the Faerie Queen laughed and spoke, but her words were lost in the wind. Fynn stiffened, but held his ground. I desperately wished there was something I could do.
“Very well, Aefynnelldar,” the Queen grinned slyly. “We shall see how you fare without my love. I cast you from Faerie. You are exiled, and homeless once more.”
Fynn fell to one knee as the wind began to rip at his hair. He was growing pale and his skin was becoming translucent as the faerie magic vanished. I was reminded of our brief sea voyage, when he had been without the magic of the Faerie Queen and had almost disappeared forever. A thought flickered to life in the depths of my mind. I had sustained Fynn and the spirits while on the boat. Perhaps Fynn would not be lost after all.
Another vision appeared. A dozen tall, lean figures, each with the same long white-blonde hair and pointed ears. They stood amongst the trees in a frightened huddle, women and men, clinging to each other. One raised his head, terror spreading across his features as he opened his mouth to call out. Suddenly a rain of arrows descended on them, bathing them in a shower of crimson blood. One by one they fell, their eyes and mouths wide open in surprise as a small army of mounted men thundered past them. I blinked to clear the tears forming in my eyes and was brought back.
The locket around my neck flared up suddenly with an intense heat. I thought for a moment it would burn a hole through my chest, when it cooled down as suddenly as it had heated. I squinted into the wind and saw Fynn rising to his feet, some of the colour returning to his otherwise pale complexion. He said nothing as he stood before the gasping face of his former mistress.
I fell to my hand and knees against the force of the Faerie Queen’s wind, bowing my head momentarily. I felt someone push up against me, and saw Jakob’s hand next to mind. Peering at him through my blowing hair, he smiled at me and winked. His sword was drawn and he held it tightly in his other hand as he rested on one knee. I took a few deep breaths and raised my head to witness the confrontation between Fynn and his queen.
“I will never allow it!” the Queen was shouting.
She struck at Fynn again, faerie darts disguised as rain in the wind. Fynn was hit, blood appearing on his exposed flesh in thin ribbons, but he held his ground. I winced sympathetically, almost feeling the sting of the darts on my own skin. Suddenly I felt the presence of the wind spirits nearby, and turning my head saw two of them hovering at the edge of the magical storm. They were drawn here by me, I knew, but feared to intervene against the powerful Queen. That they had exposed themselves was a good indication, I thought, that the Queen’s storm was weakening. Silently, I urged the two spirits forward, asking them to protect Fynn from the faerie’s fury. They gleefully leapt forward, circling around the Woodwalker on the air currents and deflecting most of the wind away from him. Jakob shifted his position, placing his body between the Faerie Queen and me. In the slight calm that he created, I could focus my energy on helping Fynn.
He had not moved an inch since rising to his feet. He kept his arms hanging at his sides, his sword firmly in its sheath. It was clear from the pained look in his eyes that he had no desire to fight his mistress, or accept her punishment. The Queen’s face, on the other hand, was tiring. Much of the rage had escaped from her expression, and the vicious scowl was becoming more of a disappointed frown.
“I made you!” she shouted out of desperation. “I will unmake you!”
“No,” Fynn said quietly. “You saved me, and I thank you for it, but the debit is repaid. I am yours no longer.”
The wind gradually faded, much to the disappointment of the wind spirits. Jakob rose to his feet and helped me to mine. Close by, Cyrus released the tree he had been cling to and moved to join us. Will popped up from behind a rock, and climbed on top of it to watch the final scene.
The Faerie Queen had grown smaller until her face was its normal size again. It floated up to stare deeply into Fynn’s eyes and drew closer. Gently, the Faerie Queen kissed him on the lips, and a tear rolled down Fynn’s face. With a final nod, the Queen of the Faeries vanished from sight. Will began to applaud.
“What just happened?” Cyrus asked.
“I’m free,” Fynn stammered. “But, I don’t understand how.”
I smiled and ran towards him, wrapping my arms around his muscular chest and hugging him tightly. He returned the embrace, and I felt him rest his cheek on the top of my head.
“Onward, brave potatoes!” Will shouted. “Not far, not far!”
Jakob caught me by the arm as I released Fynn and moved to follow Will once more. I looked up, surprised at the sudden motion, and saw the doubt and mistrust in the former Huryl’s brown eyes.
“Wait a moment,” Jakob whispered to me. “Remember what I told you. This way will lead us right to the Huryl capital’s main gates. Not a great place for us right now. If we follow the other trail, we can head through my village and come at the city undetected.”
“Come, come!” Will called. “The end is in sight!”
I bit my lip in thought. Either way, we would end up at the Huryl city, but would it be safer for us to follow Jakob’s advice? I had trusted Will this far, perhaps I should have enough faith in him to lead us. |
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| on the silver path |
[Apr. 26th, 2006|10:20 pm] |
“Finally awake?”
Will’s eyes cracked open and he blinked a few times to focus them. He kept his gaze downcast, examining his feet which dangled a few tantalizing inches from the ground. His arms were drawn over his head, and he could feel the manacles that held his weight digging into his wrists. He was a prisoner, and his prison was dark and damp, and most likely underground. It smelled of stagnant water with a few lingering traces of lilac, an unusual combination at best. He raised his eyes to stare angrily at his captor, not in the least surprised at who it was. Lady Ellena stood before him, her arms crossed over her chest and a slight smile on her tiny lips.
“I’ve temporarily removed the curse that was placed on you,” she said. “I want to make sure you fully understand my generous offer.”
Will spat at her. It landed on the stone floor by her feet; she ignored it, her eyes never leaving his face.
“I can make the spell permanent,” she continued. “All I ask is that you lead Leila to the Huryl city.”
“And directly into your hands,” Will finished. “I would rather be mad then betray her.”
“But you already have,” Ellena laughed. “She knows everything. The elves told her about your little act, how you started the crisis that brought her to this world.”
Will said nothing, his eyes narrowing angrily as the truth of her words reached him. He had tried to tell her several times what he had done, but the blasted elven curse had made it all but impossible to explain. Leila would only smile gently at him, hold his hand comfortingly, and reassure him that she would never leave him.
“She also knows it was your fault that her friend died, Clothis, was it? All because you wanted a trinket from the faeries. Do you think she’ll welcome you back, after all the trouble you’ve caused her?”
The prisoner lowered his eyes again. Leila had been forgiving, but what was her limit? She had been reserved around him lately, since Clothis had died and the war for Oponoe had begun. She had left him alone, spending more time with Jakob than him, or with the Dyrel prince. Perhaps she had already begun to hate him. Perhaps he was never meant to be her friend.
“Return to your own kind,” Ellena was saying. “Your mind will be free, and your life will be yours. Is that not your greatest desire? Am I not the only one who can grant it?”
Slowly, Will nodded. Leila had saved him from the desert, but the truth was that the only person looking out for Will was Will. In the end, he would survive.
***
“Will! Fynn!” I called into the forest.
Jakob came up beside me, irritably pulling branches from his scabbard and brushing leaves off his hair. I giggled, and he frowned at me.
“How much longer are we going to look?” he asked.
“Until we find out what happened to them,” I replied sweetly.
Jakob grumbled something under his breath and marched off. From the bushes in front of me came Cyrus, a concerned expression on his face.
“I never thought I’d be looking for the Woodwalker,” he told me. “Are you sure it’s safe?”
I nodded. “He’s my friend. You’ll be perfectly fine.”
Jakob, Cyrus, and I had emerged from the Elven Forest not long ago, guided back to our original entry point by one of Xair’s helpers. The clearing where we had left Fynn and Will had become a battlefield, littered with broken arrows, dead bodies, and stained with blood. I had found no sign of either of my friends, and rather than assume the worst, I decided to hope for the best and begin to search for them. Jakob had grudgingly agreed, and the three of us were combing the outskirts of the Elven Forest for any traces of Will or Fynn.
“Leila!”
Cyrus and I both turned at Jakob’s call and ran through the woods. One downside to my plan was that we were too close to the elven border for me to summon the spirits, so I couldn’t even ask them for help as we searched.
We found Jakob standing in a small area of toppled trees, looking around. His sword was drawn, and I was instantly on my guard. Clothis’ sword was still strapped to my back, but I had not drawn it. I wouldn’t know how to use it even if I did. Cyrus, on the other hand, had taken out his own weapon and was standing protectively close to me.
“What is it?” I asked.
Jakob shook his head, his eyes sweeping the treetops. “I thought I saw a faerie. I was in the trees, staring at me.”
“A faerie? This close to the elves?” I repeated.
The Huryl soldier nodded. “I don’t know where it’s gone to now, though.”
As if in response to his comment, an arrow embedded itself in the soft ground by his feet. He leapt backwards with a curse, still trying to spot his attacker. I still could not wake the spirits within me, and could do nothing to help my friends.
“Where are they coming from?” I asked.
“And why are they shooting us?” Cyrus added.
“They’re after me, I’m afraid.”
I smiled broadly as Fynn stepped out of the forest and into our small clearing. Almost immediately he was besieged by a storm of arrows. Most of them missed, a few struck his leather armour, and the rest he deflected simply by raising his hand. I heard angry muttering in the trees as the Woodwalker approached us.
“We have no time to spare,” Fynn said. “We should hurry.”
“Not before you tell us what’s going on,” Jakob insisted. “Are the faeries attacking you?”
I noticed that Cyrus had shrunk behind me, but was staring at Fynn intensely. Fynn either hadn’t noticed this new companion, or was too preoccupied with what was happening to care. Fynn brushed a few of the faerie arrows from his armour and motioned for us to follow him.
“I’ll explain as we move. Hurry!”
With a sigh, Jakob sheathed his sword and moved after the Woodwalker. Cyrus did the same, keeping me between him and the legendary soul stealer. I smiled inwardly, wondering how long it would take the young soldier to realize Fynn meant him no harm.
“My Queen summoned me after you left,” Fynn said as he moved quickly and silently through the woods. “I could not leave Will to die at the Huryl’s hands, so I resisted. Her magic was too strong, and I was taken to Faerie in the middle of the battle.”
I could see a few faerie archers matching our pace as we moved away from the elven border. They were dressed in the colours of autumn leaves, their skin pale and glittering in the sunlight. For the most part, their hair and eyes were dark, and they had pointed ears similar to Fynn’s, although slightly shorter.
“I broke free of her spell, but when I returned to this world, Will was gone. I tried to follow the Huryl tracks, but my Queen sent her archers after me,” Fynn continued. “There are a lot of people in these woods, souls she desires, but I could not abandon my duty to Leila.”
He glanced over his shoulder at me and I felt myself blushing. My foot caught on a root, and I stumbled a few steps. When I regained my footing and looked up, I found that I was alone in the woods. Fynn, Jakob, and even Cyrus had vanished. Straightening, I spun around slowly but all I could see around me was the forest.
“Hello?” I called.
“Hello,” someone replied.
I rubbed my eyes in confusion. A figure stepped out from behind a tree, her arms crossed over her chest and a frown on her once smiling face. She wore the uniform of a Dyrel guard, but there was a gaping hole in her chest that was stained with blood.
“Clothis?” I whispered.
The huntress nodded, but did not move. “What are you doing, Leila? Why are you following the one who killed me?”
I tried to stammer a reply, but I could only stare into the face of my dead friend. I couldn’t sense any spirits around her, although the ones under my control began to stir so I thought some magic was in play. I had not yet encountered real ghosts in this world, and I wondered vaguely to myself if they existed.
“Do you value his friendship over the one you had with me?” Clothis continued. “Is he more important to you than I was? Did I waste my life, saving yours?”
“No, Clothis, I’m sorry!” I pleaded.
“Is that my sword?” Clothis started walking towards me. “You betray my memory by working with my murderer and you steal my sword? Really, Leila. I expected more from you.”
Tears were forming in my eyes as the ghost of my friend stormed towards me. Without knowing precisely why, I reached over my shoulder and drew out her sword. The ghost stopped in its tracks and stared at me. The blade of Clothis’ sword was glowing a bright white. The ghost of Clothis threw up her arm to shield her eyes, a hiss escaping her lips as I held the glowing blade before her. I blinked in confusion, the light not bothering my vision at all. The full force of the light was directed towards the ghost, sparing me from its brilliance.
“She died for you! You must wield her sword!” Ellena’s words echoed in my mind.
The weapon felt as light as air in my hand, and I held it at the ready. The thoughts the ghost had planted in my mind drifted away, carried by the true emotions of the one who had died for me. I felt the love, respect, and lack of regret that Clothis had felt while alive.
"You killed me!" the ghost cried, a final vain attempt to darken my spirits.
"No," I told her, my voice full of conviction. "You saved me, and for that I will never forget."
With a final scream of frustration, the ghost of Clothis faded. As it vanished, I caught sight of its true form, a dark haired being with pointed ears and malicious eyes. The light of the sword faded, and I breathed a sigh of relief as I placed it once more in the scabbard on my back.
"Lady Leila!"
Turning, I saw Cyrus running towards me, an expression of relief plastered on his face. He slowed to a halt right in front of me, restraining himself from throwing his arms around my neck and hugging me. I smiled, and looking up saw Jakob and Fynn a few steps behind him.
"What happened?" Cyrus asked. "One minute you were right in front of me, then you were gone."
My smile faltered and I shook my head. "I don't know."
"Faerie magic," Fynn replied for me. "They're trying to separate us, wear us down."
“What did you see, Leila,” Jakob asked me, his voice full of concern. “You look pale.”
I shook my head and forced a smile on my face. No sense in worrying him about me, not while Will was still missing and the faeries were roaming the woods. “I’m okay,” I assured him.
“Hurry,” Fynn said, starting to move again. This time, I ran beside him as Jakob and Cyrus brought up the rear.
I noticed that he was moving very cautiously, his eyes darting around the shadows and one hand resting on the sword at his side. His face was stern and serious, and I found myself missing the teasing smile he often had when speaking to me. I wondered why the Faerie Queen had summoned him in the first place, and how he had broken free of her call.
“Fynn,” I said suddenly, “how did you escape the Faerie Queen?”
He waited a long time to answer me, so long that I thought perhaps he had not heard me. Finally, he glanced down at me and smiled that familiar smile I had been longing to see.
“Since you came to Faerie, her powers haven’t been that strong. She’s disorganized, and I managed to slip through the cracks when she wasn’t looking. But we have to keep moving, or she’ll find me and I might not be able to get away again,” he replied.
I frowned. Part of me mistrusted his answer. Why would the Faerie Queen allow her favourite to slip through the cracks? Of all the faeries, I thought Fynn would be the most difficult to ignore. I opened my mouth to ask him, when he suddenly raised a hand. Behind me, I heard Jakob and Cyrus come to a halt and slowly slide their weapons free. I was beginning to sense the spirits around me once more, although they were still reluctant.
Ahead of us, some bushes rustled. They were too loud for it to be an ambush, and I realized that whoever was ahead of us probably had no idea we were there. If it was a Huryl soldier, Fynn would be on him in an instant, with Jakob probably not too far behind. Xair had also mentioned that there were Dyrel wandering about after the destruction of Oponoe. I bit my lip and hoped for a friendly face.
I was not disappointed. As the bushes parted, a figure toppled through. He was tanned and muscular, but short, and his face was entirely covered by a mass of wavy brown hair. He fell to his hands and knees before us and raised his head, revealing a bushy brown beard and bright green eyes that stared directly at me.
“Will!” I gasped, pushing my way past Fynn to kneel in front of him. “Will, are you all right?”
A confused expression passed over his face, something that looked almost like relief and puzzlement at the same time. He bowed his head for a moment, then returned his gaze to mine.
“Flee! The dogs are out hunting the goats. We mustn’t keep the lady waiting, or the lord will be displeased,” Will said, leaping to his feet and pulling me to mine.
“What happened, Will? Did the Huryl catch you?” I asked.
Again, he hesitated and I wondered if he understood what I had asked. Instead, he began to pull at my arm, bringing me deeper into the forest. The others followed without saying a word.
“Will, I need to ask you about the silver acorn,” I said. “You told me about it before, didn’t you? When we were captured by Mattis in the desert, and when we left the world of Faerie. Do you know where it is?”
“I do,” Will whispered, dropping my hand and bowing his head, his back to me. “You must hate me.”
Fynn, Jakob, and Cyrus had been left behind, and I could hear them hurrying to catch up as Will spoke. I was taken aback at his sudden rationality, when only seconds before he had been caught up in his madness.
“I don’t hate you, Will,” I assured him. “You must have had a reason for taking the acorn.”
“The silver acorn?” Cyrus spoke up as he caught up to us. “This is the Huryl soldier responsible for stealing the acorn and starting this war?”
“And bringing Leila to this world,” Jakob added, “or so the elves told us.”
Cyrus laughed sharply. I saw Will clench one of his hands into a fist and squeeze it tightly, but I said nothing. He was torn inside, that much I could see, but he was my friend and I wanted to help him, no matter what.
“This way,” Will said suddenly, turning and grinning at the others. “The party’s ahead and the soup is asking about you. Hurry! Hurry!”
“Wait a minute,” Cyrus said, shaking his head. “We’re going to follow this traitor? It doesn’t even sound like he knows where he is, never mind the acorn. The Dyrel fortress is not far. We can head there, get some reinforcements and supplies, and map out our route.”
“And do you know where the acorn is?” Fynn asked coldly.
Cyrus paled a little but held his ground. “It’s probably with the Huryl in Oponoe. They must have used it to breach the city’s walls.”
“The parrot speaks but does the cracker hear?” Will asked. “The dogs are barking! Giddyup!”
I looked helplessly at Fynn and Jakob. Should we travel to the Dyrel fort, and from there make our way back to Oponoe; or should we follow Will, who claimed to know where the acorn was?
****
Apologies, dear readers, for the temporary set-back. I hope there are still some out there who are enjoying this tale |
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| temporary hiatus |
[Apr. 16th, 2006|12:17 pm] |
My apologies, dear readers, if you have been eagerly awaiting the next chapter.
Due to circumstances beyond mortal control, Spirit Saga will be taking a leave of absence until things are once again settled. I hope it will not last long.
In the meantime, I invite new readers to take this opportunity to catch up with the story, and if there are any questions in the minds of the more dedicated readers, I encourage you to ask them.
Thank you for your understanding
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