The Ways of Mages: Two Worlds (15 page)

After the brothel, they went into a tavern that had thick oil char built up above the lanterns.  The smells of sour ale and other, more unmentionable things, thickened the air. The straw on the floor had to have been from several years ago. The dirt floor sloshed in some parts. Duncan refused to think about
what
made it slosh. Thick reed smoke clawed at the ceiling. It made Dunca
n’
s eyes water. Chastity led them behind the bar and into
a‘
privat
e’
room. 

Chastity turned toward them once they entered the room
.“
Wait here. Someone will be along to fetch ya
.”
With that, she left.

Duncan and Trevor glanced at each other
.“
Now what
?”
Duncan mouthed.

Trevor shrugged
.“
We wait
.
”

They waited for a long time. There was nothing to do. Duncan was glad he had learned meditation. It gave him time to think. A strange dream that he had had once kept nudging against him. Something about threes and something important being los
t
…

“
Duncan
.”
Trevo
r’
s voice caught his attention. The knight looked at his companion. Trevo
r’
s eyes were wide. A strange scent filled the room. The thick smoke got even thicker. Duncan swore as the substance made itself known to his lungs. Coughing and wheezing, the two men collapsed. Just before he lost consciousness, Duncan saw black boots step from a secret doo
r
…

***

19 years before present- Arathin (Marlhema)

Jewel walked through the night time forest. She had lived centuries now in this strange land of Arathin. Over the years she had discovered that she could take the form of another creature. Jewel had discovered that she enjoyed the form of a wolf. In her wolf body, Jewel perched upon an outcrop of rock and howled to the moon. When she trailed of, the fur along her spine stood on end. There was a scent in the air. If destiny had a smell, this would be i
t
…

***

The blinding light had faded and her senses returned. Ainara was not dead; she hurt too much to be dead. It seemed an eternity since she had been sliced by monstrous claws. Decaying leaves and damp earth provided a very comforting mattress. It was a nice scent to breathe after all the horror of this night. Only two things soured the comfort of the forest floor. The first was the large stick that was digging into her ribs. The second was focused on the crazy red eyed man. Where was he?

Sometimes ignorance truly is bliss.

“
Time to rip, time to rend. Time to
kill
.”
The man hissed. His voice sounded more labored than before.  That did
n’
t seem to matter to him. He was coming closer to her. She could hear his shuffling tread in the crunchy leaves. Her fingers wrapped themselves tightly around the stick. She would have only one chanc
e
…

The creature kicked her onto her back. Luckily it had
n’
t kicked her wounded side. Still hurt though.
 “
Tim
e…
t
o…
die
.”
It rasped. Ainara whipped the stick up opening her eyes at the same time. Just in time to watch her attack miss. The crazy man appeared not to have even noticed.
Splendi
d
…
Ainara planned on swiping at it with the stick again, hopefully hard enough to spin its head. Maybe even knock it out. But her aching body would have none of it. She missed.  Using the colorful language that she had picked up from the soldiers, Ainara pumped herself up. The crazy man was leaning over her now, its rotting breath repugnant. NOW! She swung the stick. Luck of the fates, the damn thing finally connected.  The third time truly is the charm.

Ainara tried to roll away from its stunned position, it sort of worked. Pain grated through her torn side; her body whimpered. The small voice in her mind that worked to galvanized her to move whispered.
It really would
n’
t do to still be near it once it got over its stunned state.
The stunned state would
n’
t last too long; the attack having not been a stellar example of stick vs. head. How she had wanted the blow to have been as spectacular as it had been in her min
d’
s eye.

The monster in the shape of a man growled and started to move. There was
n’
t a word in her expanded soldier-fed lexicon that could encompass what she felt at that moment.

GO!
The voice within forced her to ignore the pain and scramble to her shaky feet. She ran like a colt who had
n’
t found its legs yet. She could hear it behind her. The stick was still gripped in her hand. It gave her strength. But that did
n’
t mean it could
n’
t betray her too.  It got snagged in some bush or other. The unexpected break wrenched her to the side, her foot stumbling over an upraised root. She fell onto her back with a grunt. Her traitor stick broke free of its snag. Before Ainara could get her bearings, the man pounced.

He screamed in her ear, his dead weight pressing into her. Wet warmth washed over her hand that was between them. The hand holding the stick. In panicked horror, Ainara flailed at the body. Pushing and kicking it off of her. Finally free, Ainara rolled to her knees and stared at her hands in the frail moonlight. They were dark, wet and sticky. And warm. What was left of her gown was as wel
l…
Oh spirits and Fate
s
…
 
 
Ainara glanced at the man. He lay where she had pushed him, her stick buried in his chest. It was as black as her hands.

Ainara shuddered and tried very hard not to retch. She hurt too much to do that. And her child was not helping. She put a bloodied hand to her swollen stomach
.“
Stop kicking
.”
She begged of the child. Trembling, Ainara worked her way to her feet with the help of a tree. She looked around at the shadowy forest. She had no idea where the village was that Seith told her about. Nor did she know where Seith was
.“
Seith
?”
She whispered to the darkness. Nothing replied. She was alone with a corpse. And she was lost. Ainara leaned her forehead against the smooth bark of her support tree. The pain in her side made her thinking sluggish, not to mention ill. And her child was fussing again.

A tingling sensation curled up her spine. It was like something was watching her.  Ainara turned her head. She expected to see the man standing again.  She did not expect to see the silver and black wolf that was sitting there. It gazed at her with intelligent, gold flecked green eyes.
Odd color for a wolf
she thought
.“
Sieth
?”
She asked hesitantly. Seith was a shapeshifter, but it had green eyes. A shapeshifter kept their eyes in whatever form they took. Now that she really thought about it, they were vaguely familiar. She hurt too much to puzzle it out further. The wolf cocked its head questioningly
.“
Tha
t’
s a no, huh
?”
Ainara asked tiredly. The wolf blinked and yawned. It stood and stretched. There was something feminine about it. It really was
n’
t Seith, he had told her that he could
n’
t change sex when becoming something else. Could it be a true wolf? Crap. She was too tired to run, could
n’
t out run a wolf anyway, and she had no weapon. Crap, crap, cra
p
…
“
Do
n’
t eat me, please. I just want to find that village
.”
Ainara whispered.

The wolf yipped and wagged her tail. She looked off to her right and glanced back at her. Ainara had the distinct feeling the wolf was pointing with her nose. She even took a few steps in that direction before looking back at Ainara. She yipped again.

“
You want me to follow you
?”
Bark. A few more steps. Ainara stared, blinked, and then shrugged. Weirder things had happened to her. She followed the wolf. The canine set an easy pace and was patient.  Even so, it had to be the longest walk Ainara had ever taken. It seemed to be miles and miles. In truth it was probably no more than a mil
e…
The leaf strewn floor was slanted and hilly. Fallen trees loomed out of the dark and holes snatched at her feet. Stray branches snagged her ruined gown and tangled hair some more. She tripped often and was punished by her side. When she tripped, the wolf came back and helped her up.  Every time she made a sudden movement she felt the hardened blood crack and she felt warmth flow farther down her side. She begged the steadiness of many trees as she waited for her swimming head to slow down. Breathing was getting harder and harder. She coughed a lot too. It was a warm and sticky substance that would come up into her mouth. She would spit it out only to have the tangy taste remain; in moonlight it was the same black as that on her hands.

By the time Ainara stumbled into the village there was nothing to show she was really a high born lady who was married to the dragon prince. But at the moment she could not really care. She was delirious and light headed. Her breathing was shallow. It would take but a breath of wind to knock her down. The she-wolf left her at the edge of the village. She hardly noticed. Her eyes settled on a lit window and her blind feet followed. Her foot found an uneven part in the path and down she went. She put her arms before her so she did not smash her baby and she settled on her side
. I made it to the village Seit
h…
can I rest now?
Her thoughts aske
d
…

Maybe time passed. She could
n’
t tell. There were voices and there was pain. Voices prodding and needling. She told them what had happened, but they kept asking. It was infuriating. There was so much pain. Spirits take her! There was so much. Then the pain faded away as she drifted closer and closer to the edge of oblivion. A soft, whimpering cry brought her halfway back. A little bundle wrapped in cloth with copper fuzz on its little head was near her gaze. Her baby, she knew instantly. A voice told her the bundle was a girl. She had already known
.“
Te
r…
ana
.”
She gasped.

“
Terana
?”
A male voice asked.

She summoned her strength to answer him
.“
Terana
.”
She sagged a little and focused for the first time on hazel eyes
.“
Will you take care of her? Love her
?
”
 
Vaguely she heard something that she hoped was assent. She was so tired, everything felt heavy. She would close her eyes for jus
t…a…
se
c…
on
d
…

In the distance a she-wolf howled.

1,715 years before present day- Thioden

The man gasped.  His leg was throbbing. His head pounded and he was having trouble seeing through his swollen and blood-encrusted eyes. He had lost somebody... Somebody near to him but his mind refused to focus.

He had been stumbling through dimly lit back alleys for hours.  How he got to b
e“
where he wa
s”
or eve
n“
who he wa
s”
were items lost in a haze of pain and desperation. The knife wound on his leg was bleeding again. The poison that had been on its blade was doing its work. Somewhere deep within him a long dormant reserve of magical potential awoke in his body's own internal attempt to salvage the situation.

He clutched a small bundle wrapped in fine linen close to his chest. This was his little girl. He would protect her at all costs. An evil was after him. He desperately wanted to rest but he could not. The evil was here. He could feel it.

He stumbled and half dragged himself around a corner into a main thoroughfare.

The finely dressed ladies and gentlemen walking the street startled at the sight of this strangely clad and disheveled man clutching a baby.

His eyes darted about as if half crazed. He spotted a church perhaps a hundred yards away.  The street ran up to the impressive marble steps and ended. He would be safe there.  The evil would not reach him. He raced as fast as he could to reach the steps.  It was little more than a shuffle but it was all he could manage. He crawled up the steps leaving a bloody smear on the white marble in the process.  The door to the church was closed.  It was inlaid with golden runes, which he could not read. Something was not right. It was
n’
t wrong. It just was
n’
t right. He was confused. There was safety of a sort here. He beat a feeble fist on the door. Then with the clarity of thought that sometimes precedes unconsciousness, his mind cleared enough to realize that this was not a church after all; but rather a great library. He knew a brief flitting moment of peace just as darkness took him.

***

19 years before present- Northern Arathin (Sheyestiva)

The bright white light faded; leaving the darkness to consume him. But now, even that was fading. Eye lids coated in something thick fluttered open. Pain as the something got in them. He sat up quickly blinking the substance out.
Telecy
helped as he mentally pushed the substance out of his eyes. He gazed at it. Gray and powdery it sat in his hand. Dust. His eyes traveled to his arms which had a cracking layer of the stuff. To his leg
s
…

“
Shrakh
!”
He swore as he stood. Disturbed clumps of dust fell from the rafters. He was covered in dust. And now it sloughed off of him. How did this come to be? He looked about him. The hall was familiar. Black stone gleamed through its own layer of dust in the faded light coming through the windows. On the floor were other people. People he knew. He knew he knew the
m…
he looked out of the window over a wide plain covered in blue grasses. Distant moving creatures stirred a long dormant hunger in him.
Elleroshek;
the wandering hairy leviathans of the Sheyan: a vast blue grassed plain. The Sheya
n…
It all came back now. He was Kaishan Varcress, the Winged Dagger and heir to Illusio
n’
s Throne. He was in the Great Hall of the Kikel Varcressi. He was in Sheyestiva.

Which made no sense.

He had been in Marlhema last he remembered. They were wining against the dragons and Marlhem
a’
s allies. It had all been so simpl
e…
but now he was home, covered in dust with many of his countrymen around him. Kaishan knelt beside one and touched him. The man was warm, had a pulse, but did
n’
t wake. He shook the man and called to him. Nothing.

Kaishan went from one to the next to the next. They were all alive that he could tell, but none would wake. What had happened? He had
n’
t been in the throne room when his father had gone to kill the king. Kaishan had gone after the Dragon prince and his wife. Before he could find the
m…
there had been a bright light. A blinding ligh
t…
then nothing.

“
Marana
. Raw
maran
a
…
”
he whispered to the hall. The dragons had done something to them. To all of them. And now they were back home. Apparently unharmed, but covered in dust. Centuries of dust. How long had he lain here?

A faint bugle called to his stomach. His black-veined blue gaze settled on the window. He would solve the mysteries of their situation after he assuaged the ache of hunger.

***

Present day- Arathin

From the Journal of Ari
té
Versilrom: a brief history of the land.  

I have seen many things in my life; the paradox of man evident through everything. Through ages I have seen the wonders of creativity, such as art and music and science. I have lived through times of such plenty that even the worst of enemies could get along. Children knew nothing but peace and only worried about childish things.

Then, I have seen the terrors of man; war in all its bloody insanity. The brutal savagery that could tear all before it in the flames of hatred.  I have seen things that would make the stoutest heart quail in hopeless tremors.

Through all of it, I waited. 

I have been around for a very long time; long enough to see kingdoms rise and fall. My own life had been turned upon the very rages of ambition and greed.  I watched the pinnacle of civilization crumble beyond repair. How could the world become so mad? How could it forget the strength of fellowship?

My fathe
r’
s blood was what gave fuel to the most horrendous of wars, the like of which I pray never comes again. It became a living beast that ate us. Devoured us like candy.  Storms of living flames lit the night and fed upon the very earth. All things alive fled the enraged magics. Deceit ran rampant. Illusions convinced many of safety, leading only to the hottest tempests.

What I describe pales in comparison to the real thing. I may have been a little girl when this all happened, but I remember. My nightmares are only memories of watching the palace that I had called home crumble to dust, magic flaring and the scream
s…
Oh night, the scream
s
…

So much waste, so much deat
h…
the rivers ran red, the vultures grew fat.  Magics became so wild that they turned the very earth. Sheer mountains were wrenched from the flat ground. Bedrock screamed as its sides were slashed by the wild magics that tortured it. For tens of thousands of miles, the newly made mountains became.

Such a creation scattered my sorry people. The very earth had declared that enough was enough. I was drawn to those mountains. They were the last true place where all the magics settled. I guess I could have gone to one group of what was left of my people, but by that time I was so used to hiding. So used to being alone with Jewel as my only friend. I did
n’
t know how to interact with others. And how could I choose one side over the other? That earth tearing war had not only been life wasting, it had also been long.  I was a young woman whose only company had been the magics. Jewel and I went to where the magics had gone, where they had taken my fathe
r’
s remains. Together we buried him and we named the mountains after him so the world could never forget him.  I named the mountains the Niram
i’
s Grave.

They remain a haunting reminder to what we have all lost.

I later found out that the wild magics did
n’
t only tear apart the opposing sides, but also the gifts of my people. To the north they retained the magics of the mind; telecy. Because of their lack of the rest of the magic, known as fire or ana, but for the spark of the shapechange, my northern people called themselves Sheyestivans. Translated, it mean
s‘
those of a starless nigh
t’
.

Nigh
t’
s darkness means everything to my northern kin. So much mischief can be achieved in the absence of light. And mischief they have done. All the nations to the north of the Nirami they have conquered. Nothing but they remains, not even the Night Eagle which they have usurped. The Night Eagle fascinated them. I
t’
s cunning, finesse, and strength became the greatest qualities in Sheyestiva.  Their last spark of shiana, or shapechange, latched upon the Night Eagle. Of all the things they used to be able to become, they were limited to the one.

The Sheyestivans became the Night Eagle. The mighty eagle of the north was driven to extinction a mere ten years after the Nirami rose. The great bird now only exists in Sheyestivan tales and my memory. 

To the south, the people retained the ana and lost the telecy. Eventually the ana became known as marana after the favorite of my southern ki
n’
s shiana. In toda
y’
s tongue, they are referred to as the Dragons. Marlhema they named their nation; a nation that soon became known as th
e‘
Nation of King
s’
. They were respected for their nobility, knowledge, and power. Such things they managed to hold onto from before the war.

Because of this, they did not conquer their neighbors. Instead, they became one people, learning from each other. This unity gave me hope of the healing of my people. They were so like how we had bee
n…a‘
Nation of King
s’
.

Their wealth became well known. When I write wealth, I do not mean just a full treasury, though they did have that. I mean the land itself. Almost as lush as it had been before the war. Knowledge was vast and all could get to it. Marlhema was not perfect, but it tried. Its wealth and guidance was known.  Even to the north. The Sheyestivans hungered for that wealth and power. Desperately they sought for a way south.

It was around that time that I made my first big mistake.

Hoping that the Marlhemans would have a mellowing effect on the Sheyestivan rage, I let the Sheyestivans come. At first, things went well and my hopes seemed to have been realized. But that was only at first.

Alone, ambition can be good. Mixed with greed, it can never be.

Shan
té
v, Emperor of Sheyestiva, was a conqueror to his core. He was addicted to power and wanted more. Always. There was no more power to be had in Sheyestiva. So, he had turned his eyes to the south. He had heard the rumors of the power held by Marlhema and he craved it. Craved it to be his own and no one els
e’
s. I regret opening a pass for him, but at the time I truly hoped.

After seeing with his own eyes the splendor of the southern kingdom, Shan
té
v knew he must possess it. A few months after I opened the pass, the Sheyestivans returned for blood. The insanities of war will never cease to sicken and amaze me. It was a relatively quick war, a passing shadow. But it was not unlike most chaotic situations. To those involved it seemed to drag, each minute becoming an hour, an hour becoming a day. Each passing day seemed the passing of a lifetime. Many a thousand lifetimes seemed to pass.

It was only a year.

The Sheyestivans are nothing without their militaristic prowess. They used the element of surprise with deadly effect. Confusion and fear ran wild on the outskirts of Marlhema. It took precious time for the people to figure out that they were actually in a war. It took even more time to figure out what was attacking them. They were slipping fast.  However, that did not stop them from fighting back. Desperately the Marlhemans clung to life like a burr. The Sheyestivans were forced to change their attacks to cope with the dragons dangerous magics.

I watched the Shadow War unfold and felt sick. Was the rift between my people so great that they could
n’
t reconcile? I worried. Hope was dying in me as it became apparent that Marlhema was drowning under the hoards of the Cursed.  About me, the Nirami became horribly restless. I had never seen its storms so riled. My dreams were like the storms of man and nature; chaotic.  The only solid thing was a verse whispered to me. It was the only thing that stayed with me between waking and sleeping;

Hope rests in the Star;

Something that is seen in the endless darkness of night.

Hope rests in light;

The light that shines the edge of a blade.

Hope rests in balance;

A sword can preserve as easily as it can take.

Hope rests in the soul;

A blade is a mirror, reflecting its wielder.