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Rain moved backward at the last moment, and for a split second she felt the awful, piercing pain. But Dar’Quath hadn’t expected her move and fell forward, losing his concentration. Seizing her small window of opportunity, she ran to the back of the room to the door.
Rough hands on her shoulders spun her around and pushed her against the door. Dar’Quath forced his hand around her throat, not quite choking her, but not letting her look away from his eyes, dark pits of fear. With his other hand he pinned her arm holding the dagger to the door.
“I would kill you right now if I knew how to open this door,” he hissed. “You were able to make the handle. There’s no keyhole. Why can’t I pull it?” His eyes bored into hers, and she was unable to move. “Of course you wouldn’t know.”
He let go of her throat, grabbed her other arm, and flung her away. She hit the floor hard, skidding across the cold stone on her back.
When she regained her senses, she saw Dar’Quath had grabbed the handle and was pulling, bracing his leg against the doorframe.
“If you’ve been trying to open it, you’ve surely already tried that,” she said through gritted teeth, glad his eyes were not fixed on hers. Whatever he was up to, she didn’t want him to succeed, and tried distraction. “What does Myrna need the door for?”
“Why would I tell you?” he said. “And of course I’ve tried it already!” He kicked the door. “Blasted thing.” He ran his hands along the wood, searching for something, grumbling in frustration.
She stood up, sheathing her dagger. She had to do something, anything to keep him from completing whatever Myrna’s plans were. But what? She considered what her magic might be able to do.
He turned around and looked at her, glaring as if forming an idea. “You made the door and its handle appear—you must have the power to open it.”
Before she could decide how to deal with him, he grabbed her mind with such force that she felt she was going blind with pain. Her body moved on its own accord. Her feet dragged her forward. She felt rather than saw her hand touch the key-shaped door handle. Something probed her mind, her memories, making her feel utterly violated. The probing entity found her dream of this place. The entirety of it replayed in her head, sending waves of fear through her when the dreamwalker talked to her. Dar’Quath apparently hadn’t found what he wanted. More memories replayed—learning about her magic from Whiskey.
“There we go,” Dar’Quath said with a grim smile in his voice.
A burst of red energy was forced into her hands, and she felt herself pull the door, as if someone else were in her body, making the movements. Without much effort, she pulled the door open to the abyss of black nothingness.
The hold on her mind was released. She dropped to the floor and crawled a few feet away, trembling and defeated. It felt like she’d been laid bare, like he’d seen every inch of her body and mind, completely unprotected. She couldn’t move properly, couldn’t think.
Finally other memories came, of their own accord this time. Ones that hadn’t been found by Dar’Quath’s magic. Celena and Fergus. Whiskey. Shea. When they were all healthy, caring people. She held on to the memories and replayed them in her head. Myrna could take away the people, but she couldn’t take away the memories.
Dar’Quath was doing something for Myrna. No matter what it was, it was bad news. She couldn’t let him win, or hundreds of thousands of people would lose their minds and lives to the Soulblight. No one was here to help her except her memories. But she would lose them completely if she didn’t try.
Raising her head, she saw Dar’Quath standing before the open door. Now that she’d come to her senses, the utter emptiness of the doorway startled her. It seemed to suck in the torchlight, darker than the forest outside, darker than she remembered from the dream. But it wasn’t just dark. It was nothing.
Dar’Quath raised his palms toward the doorway and began chanting in a harsh language, his voice slowly growing louder. Clearly, he wasn’t just traveling.
Thinking of what he had just done to her, her anger began to build. All her common sense drained away, as if it was also drawn into the deep darkness of the doorway. A residual amount of red energy from pulling the door open flared up inside of her and began to grow. Her hands soon pulsed red and she had only one thought.
Make him pay.
She sent the energy forward, extending her arms to direct it at Dar’Quath. It shot like an arrow, a bolt of pure force, shattering his invisible shield with a loud bang. A shockwave hit her body and she staggered backwards to keep her balance.
Dar’Quath had stopped chanting and looked over at her with mingled surprise and anger. He seemed unharmed, but she knew his magical defenses were down. Bringing back her own anger, she threw another force of red energy at him and it hit him hard, knocking him to the ground. When she was sure he was still, she let the magic go and walked forward to see what had happened.
He was knocked out, for sure. It looked as if he’d been struck with a boulder, with his nose bleeding and limbs at an awkward angle.
Dread hit her stomach like a fist. It wasn’t that she felt pity for him—only sickening hate—but the power she had wielded gave her magic a new meaning. She stared at him in shock for a minute before she understood.
Her magic was a weapon.
Sure, she knew it already. But it was immensely powerful. Using magic like that felt dirty. Just what he’d been telling her.
She swallowed and tried not to look at his battered body closely as she dug in his pockets for her aegis. As soon as she had it, she backed away from his body, not wanting to know if he was dead. She couldn’t stomach it. He was out and not moving, that was all that mattered to her muddled mind. She looked up. The only way to go, now, was through the door.
The emptiness seemed to envelop her as soon as the thought crossed her mind. Picturing a crescent moon in her mind, she walked the last few steps to the door. Standing on the threshold and knowing she was going into the unknown gave her sudden fear and she nearly turned back. Knowing she had to push on, for everyone’s sake, she put on her aegis and clutched it for comfort. With the moon symbol firmly in her mind, she stepped forward into the void.
***
For a time, there was only thought. All that Rain felt, saw, and heard was nothingness. Time spanned seconds, and at the same time, eternity.
Straldun.
No voice spoke the name, as if it just appeared in her mind. Somehow she knew it was her destination.
First came the strangely heavy feeling of being in a body. Cold air sent shivers through her skin. Hearing came back next, the sharp cries of birds far above and the whistle of the wind over flat ground. An unusual stale smell seeped from the ground. The rest of her senses soon followed, and she finally opened her eyes.
Barren land spread out in every direction around her. The sun leaked hazily through strangely dark clouds overhead. Black vulture-like birds circled above, searching for small prey within the brittle brown grass below. She stood in a circular area about five paces wide, rimmed with red mushrooms speckled with white. Inside the circle, the grass was healthy and green. Looking straight up, she found she was standing under a stone archway that lay inside the circle of mushrooms. There was no sign of the dark void she had come from, and she suddenly worried she wouldn’t be able to get back.
She tried calling on her connection with the other Council members through her aegis, but she couldn’t sense anything. Since she was probably worlds away from home, it wasn’t surprising, but it deepened her sense of being alone.
Despair touched her when she stepped out of the ring of mushrooms, as if it came from the land itself. Looking around, there were no visible landmarks. The bleak brown expanse stretched on to meet the horizon in every direction. To keep from walking in circles, she chose to head towards the weak sun.
The dry grass crunched under her boots and small insects scurried away from her footsteps. The cries of the dark birds overhead added a sense of fear to the already desolate land. If the moon elves were here, she wondered if any were still alive.
***
After what felt like hours of walking, exhaustion and thirst crept up on her like a shadow come down from the dark sky. With nothing to look at except the birds that followed her overhead, the monotony sapped her energy and she found it difficult to put one foot in front of the other. If only she had brought water.
But wait. She could create things.
She stopped walking and closed her eyes to focus, imagining a leather waterskin lying on the ground at her feet. The surge of energy to her hands was slower and weaker than expected, like thick liquid through a fine sieve. Using what determination she had left, she continued to channel the orange-colored energy through her to the ground, and opened her eyes to watch the waterskin appear before her.
Even with the surrounding gloom, her small success made her smile. She reached down to pick up the waterskin and opened the stopper. It was empty. She held the skin in her hands and tried conjuring water to fill it. Ever so slowly, water began to fill the skin.
Exhaustion soon overtook her and she stopped with the waterskin only a third full. It felt like she’d just created fifty wooden logs. Her knees gave way and she fell to the ground, the waterskin landing out of reach. Roused by the thought that her hard work could be lost, she crawled to the waterskin and pushed in the stopper before turning over on her back and staring at the dark sky, catching her breath.
Once she had enough energy to keep going, she took a sip of the water. It was warm and tasted somehow metallic, but it was enough to soothe her parched throat and help her go on.
***
As she continued, she watched the faint light of the sun weaken as it slipped behind the dark black clouds above. Without its direction, she would surely continue on in circles. After waiting for the sun to reappear with no luck, she stopped walking and surveyed her surroundings.
They were much the same as before, with the same dry, brittle grass under her feet and the barren plain stretching on to the horizon in all directions. The birds had left, yet there were still a few small rodent-looking animals scurrying through the grass. Before she panicked that there was nothing in this world but grass and a few animals, she examined the far-off horizon to make sure there were no landmarks in sight.
Off to her left, the terrain was the same, but she felt a strange pull, much like she’d felt near the Dark Wood and in the Hollow. She let it lead her onward.
The wind picked up, pulling at her cloak with its cold fingers. It intensified the stale scent of the land, forcing her to cover her nose with her sleeve. She put one foot in front of the other despite the aching exhaustion in her legs. Every so often, she took a sip of her water, being careful not to drink too much. But it was soon was nearly empty.
The sun did not reappear, and the sky steadily darkened until night settled over the land. Deeper despair swept over her as if the wind carried it, and she worried she was going nowhere. When she realized it was almost too dark to go on without a light, saw something on the horizon, in the direction of the pull.
A fire.
Filled with renewed vigor, she ran full speed toward the light. As she neared it, she realized it would be better to be careful and slowed down.
“… getting harder to find game these days.”
Two male elves sat facing each other around a small campfire. One had short black hair, but the other had red hair like hers, pulled back in a long ponytail. It relieved her immensely. She was in the right place. Not ready to betray her presence yet, she stayed far enough away that the darkness would obscure her. Their fire was burning perfectly straight, without logs; the flames were free-floating a few inches from the ground.
“It is. It feels as if something about this place is changing. As if… it wasn’t meant to last this long,” the red-haired elf said as he stared into the fire. “Just consider how much energy it takes, now, to make a fire like this. It didn’t used to be as much, even after we came to this godforsaken—”
She took a tentative step forward so she could hear better and stepped on a particularly dry patch of grass. It crunched loudly under her boot.
“Who’s there?” she heard the other elf ask. They squinted out into the night to try and see her.
As there was nowhere to hide or run to, she walked forward.
“I’m Rain,” she said, feeling thoroughly out of place, shifting from one foot to the other.
“I hope you’re not the black rain,” the red-haired elf said, chuckling at the joke he seemed to expect her to understand. When she only frowned, he smiled curiously. “I’m Maruck, This is Camaran. What are you doing out here so late? You should know it’s not safe.”
She realized they thought she was one of them, and decided to go along with the charade so she didn’t draw too much attention to herself. “I was… out for a stroll, and I think I’ve gotten lost.”
“A stroll?” Camaran said, almost laughing. “There’s not much to see out here.” He pointed at the waterskin in her hand. “You don’t happen to have any water left in that, do you? Maruck won’t ‘waste his energy’ and I’m thirsty.”
“I’m sorry, it’s empty,” she said, a little more curtly than she’d intended.
“Give her a break,” Maruck said. “You’re lost? We can take you back to the city if you’d like, we were just heading there.” He looked up. “It’s about time, too. The clouds look menacing.”
“I wouldn’t want to bother you—”
Before she finished her thought, the fire vanished and the two other elves stood up.
“How far is it?”
“Not far,” Maruck said.
A small flame sprung out of Camaran’s palm and he let it float out in front of him so they could see. “Let’s go.”
Maruck started out first, followed by Camaran and then Rain. It was an awkward silence at first, but before long, Camaran let Rain catch up to him. “Where do you live?” he asked. “I haven’t seen you around. You’re a studying Sister, I expect?”
She had no idea how to respond without telling why she was really here. “Well, I don’t exactly live in the city…”
He looked at her, puzzled. “Then you live in the outskirts of Dolmeria?”
The name of the lake was the name of their city? She thought about evading the truth again, but decided she wouldn’t get anywhere that way. “No, I’m not from Dolmeria at all.”
At that, they both stopped walking and stared at her.
“How can you not be from Dolmeria?” Maruck asked. “I’ve never heard of anyone living out in the wastelands.”
“I came from Ellwood. Belmaeron.”
“We all did,” Camaran said. “What do you mean?”
“This place is called Straldun, right? I only arrived a few hours ago. I’ve been walking from that circle of mushrooms.”
Both elves were struck dumb. Camaran’s expression was fearful at first but turned to disbelief, and then amusement. Maruck stared curiously, almost in awe. Rain didn’t know what to think.
“Let’s get going,” Maruck said, and turned back around, continuing to walk. Camaran didn’t budge. “Cam, walk with me. We need to talk.” Reluctantly, the dark-haired elf drew his eyes away from her and caught up with Maruck.
Even though they whispered, she heard every word in the midst of the barren, quiet plain.
”She’s crazy!” Camaran exclaimed. “No one’s been able to go through that portal for a hundred years. How could she have come from Ellwood?”
“Cam. Think about it. Magic has been steadily growing weaker. Even the land is losing its nutrients for growing food, and we have to scavenge for weak animals out in the wasteland that are going hungry themselves. Something’s coming. Perhaps this is a sign.”
“A sign? You can’t be serious,” Camaran scoffed.
“You can’t deny it. You feel it, too.”
“But it may mean nothing,” Camaran said so quietly she could barely hear.
“And it may mean something. We’ll take her to the Crone.” Maruck left no room for negotiation.
Rain pretended she hadn’t heard it all, but was glad she was going to meet someone in charge. I’m more than a sign, she wanted to say. I’m here to find a way to get you out of this place.
***
In a short while, the lights of houses shone in the distance. Thin, gnarled, leafless, trees grew sporadically here, the only vegetation apart from the brittle grass. Eventually they came to a dirt path that led into the city.
The buildings on the outskirts were mostly made of wood, but as they advanced further, they appeared to be much older and mostly made of stone. The further they went the more detailed and intricate the buildings were. The path turned into a stone-paved road, and street lamps flickered as they passed in the darkness. They barely saw anyone walking the streets.
They passed inns and taverns, blacksmith shops and tailors, and many other shops she couldn’t name. But even in the night, it was clear that many of these places were abandoned.
She couldn’t help asking one question. “Why is it so empty?”
Both elves looked back at her. “The Crone can explain best,” Maruck said, and they continued on in silence. His bluntness kept her mouth shut the rest of the way.
***
Eventually, through the darkness, Rain saw an enormous building sitting in the center of a large plaza. As they neared the building, she figured they were at the center of the city; streets extended from the circular plaza in all directions.
The front of the building was intricately designed. Inside a border of runic designs were panels depicting the elves using their magic: creating food to feed their families, forging blades and armor in times of war, and calling upon a female deity when they were in need. In fact, the deity looked a lot like the Goddess at Lake Dolmeria. Above her, the roof pointed at the top with a thin spire extending from its tip.
“Here is the Temple of the Crone. Keep quiet while inside, unless spoken to.” Maruck let his little flame extinguish and pushed the door open.
Inside, torches lined massive pillars that extended upwards into arches. Fantastic art lined the walls in bright colors. Seats curved outward from the center of the building. The grandeur and the stillness of the place made it feel somehow holy.
Sitting in the center of the temple in a simple yet elegant large dark brown chair—a throne—was an elf-woman. As they approached, Rain noticed the elf had a distinct feeling of old wisdom about her, yet her face didn’t show signs of aging like a human’s would. She had long golden hair, and wore elegant white robes.
They stood before her on the stone floor, a few steps below the raised platform which her throne sat upon. Maruck bowed, Camaran followed suit, and Rain, not knowing what to do, did a clumsy curtsy.
“Welcome, Sister.” The Crone spoke with a voice that carried power.
“How did you…?” she asked, before she could stop herself. Was it that obvious she could wield innate magic?
Camaran scowled at her for speaking out of turn, but the Crone smiled. “Most moon elves have this magic, but I can also sense magic in others. It is a gift very few have, and it is one of the reasons I am Crone.” She stood up from her throne and stepped forward.
“There is no need to get up, Great Mother—” Camaran stammered.
“Nonsense. I sit in that chair all day long. I had to come closer to sense your depth of magic, Sister. In you I sense the ability to become quite powerful.” She smiled kindly, but her expression turned to a curious frown. She pointed at the chain around Rain’s neck, which held the aegis. The stone was tucked under her coat collar. “May I see it?”
Rain nodded and pulled the aegis out from under her collar.
“Fascinating. I haven’t seen one of these in… probably over a hundred years.” She looked into Rain’s eyes intently. “An aegis from the Council. Able to resist fear magic, bring comfort to the wearer, and help those wearing one communicate. Created when Myrna began growing in power.” She looked away, troubled. The frown vanished almost as soon as it appeared. “You are not from here, not from anywhere in Straldun.”
There was a pause, an invitation to speak.
“Yes, Great Mother,” she said, copying Camaran’s address of her. “I came from Belmaeron, in Ellwood. But I am originally from Willshire.”
The Crone’s expression was unreadable. “So you traveled by way of the Hollow?”
“Yes.”
“But Great Mother, it is impossible to travel that way,” Camaran exclaimed. “We’ve tried over and over, with no success. For a hundred years. Why is it different now?”
“Just because it doesn’t work from this side of the door, doesn’t mean it won’t work to travel from Ellwood to here. Besides, times are changing. A new era is dawning, soldier.”
Maruck gave Camaran a sidelong glance. “What did I tell you?”
“You’ve sensed something in the air, correct? We have now lived in this wasteland for about a hundred years. This new era… it is hard to read what will happen. Complete destruction or liberation from our banishment? It is hard to say.”
“Great Mother, about the banishment,” Rain said, hoping for more answers than she’d been given by Whiskey, “I am curious to know exactly how you came to be here. People speak of Myrna making you just vanish off the earth, but I know there is more to it.”
“I suppose no one in Ellwood knows if we are dead or alive?” When Rain nodded, she continued. “Myrna was a troubled young elf-woman born without innate magic. Fairly rare among our people. She made some bad choices, and fell for the darkness that is spirit magic. She used the Hollow, which has been in Ellwood for countless years, unused and forgotten, to send us to this world. It is likely she tapped into some great power source and created the world herself.”
She paced as she talked. “It is becoming ever clearer to me that this world was not made to sustain us forever. I sense a weakening in our connection to magic in this world. Why that is, I do not know.” She stopped pacing, standing once again in front of Rain. “That is not the only reason you have come to see me. What is your true purpose for being here?”
Rain’s thoughts instantly switched to thinking of Shea, and she felt a burst of emotion flood through her. She took a deep breath to keep from breaking down in front of the three elves, who listened intently. “I… I came because a horrible curse, the Soulblight, has begun to spread in Ellwood. It turns the animals into rabid monsters, and kills fairies and weaker creatures. It can give Myrna and her minions a way to possess whichever body they wish and force them to do things against their own will. I went to Lake Dolmeria and called upon the Goddess for help. I was led here, to your people, for the cure.”
“We are your people, too, dear one,” she smiled. “You are lucky indeed to be able to speak to the Goddess yourself. I have not been able to sense her presence for ever so long… one hundred years to an elf is not a long time, but here, it has felt like eternity. We have been separated from the Goddess’s light. Without it, our people have not just lost their powers, but lost hope. What I would give to be in Her presence once more…” She sighed. “But you came for a cure? The cure for a curse that takes over someone’s soul…” Pausing, she thought for a moment. “Our healers know quite a bit about curses, but only a few know about the ones involving spirit magic. You should see them for help.”
“So you can help me? You can find a cure?” she asked in astonishment. She almost broke down in tears in her relief.
“We probably can, yes,” she said, smiling at Rain’s exuberance. “I have great pride in our healers, though they have lately been overwhelmed with patients. You should visit them tomorrow. Faramond!” she called.
An elf-man came through a door in the back of the temple’s main room. The Crone addressed him. “Please make up a room for this Sister. Bedding, a meal, and everything.”
“Right away, Great Mother,” he said, smiling at all of them, and rushed back through the door he used a moment ago.
“You will stay in a room in the palace tonight, and meet me tomorrow morning. I will explain where the healers reside then,” the Crone said.
“Great Mother!” a voice yelled from the back of the hall. Faramond came dashing inside. “You must hurry to your palace quarters! The rain is coming.”
“Oh!” she said, startled. “Right away, Faramond. You may all come with me and stay in the palace rooms tonight. You two won’t be able to make it to your soldier’s quarters, I’m afraid.” She hurried to follow Faramond out through the back door, and Maruck urged Rain on, following the Crone. Camaran was the last of them through the door into the dark night. Along the way, Rain wondered what was so frightening about a bit of water.