Chapter 19
Luthien looked from the old elven women to the bewildered elves milling about them, and then at the unspoiled forest all around him. Azarielle and Lucien’s power still hung in the air, so thick that they could choke him if he breathed too deeply. But there were no pillars of black flames scorching the heavens, nor were their unrelenting waves of flesh searing heat pouring over him. The smell of leaves and unidentifiable flowers pervaded the clearing that had, only a moment ago, consumed the clearing.
The young knight opened his mouth to speak but found himself unable to compose even a single string of coherent words. Breaker, who stood behind him, was just as stunned. The gray elf’s normally stoic face had transformed into slack-jawed shock. And when, sensing Luthien’s stare, Breaker turned to him, the elf seemed equally incapable of speech.
“Well now, aren’t any of you youngsters going to greet your elder?” the old elf woman asked in perfect Achiendian. “What is the lot of you doing, staring at me like buffoons for?”
“G… Good day, mist… mistress,” Ofeera was the first amongst the companions to find her voice as she rose unsteadily to her feet, half wondering whether she was hallucinating.
“Ah, a lovely young healer of Abihayil,” the old woman nodded her head at Ofeera, “Why don’t you come over here and tend to this undisciplined little mage friend of yours. She needs a good talking to, that’s what she needs! Using fire… in these old forests! Not only are these young mages severely lacking in skill and control, but they are a disrespectful bunch too! I am going to give her a piece of my mind, I will... and, oh… what are you still doing here?”
The old woman suddenly turned to regard Lucien and the three mages and waved gnarled, stick-like hands at them, “Shoo.”
An invisible force wrapped around the three Dark Empire mages, picked them up, and promptly tossed them out of the forest as if they were nothing more than pebbles. Lucien fared a little better, managing to resist being lifted into the air, but still stumbling backwards until his back hit a tree. The pale-haired prince opened his lips to hurl death at this unexpected enemy, but a sudden wave of malevolent power, so cold that it burned him, rolled over him, pinning him to the spot.
“Little human, it would put me into a foul mood if I couldn’t keep my word to not spill blood in this forest again. You seem quite fond of splitting open flesh, but really, you haven’t mastered that art yet. Shall I show you a new trick or two?”
Lucien’s eyes narrowed as he felt cold fingers wrap around his heart. The old elf woman smiled serenely at him as she beheld him with eyes every bit as merciless as his own. He knew that the old woman, or rather, the creature that dwelled within the old woman, could and would crush his heart and tear him limb from limb.
And he knew too that this was not a foe he could battle in his current state and emerge victorious. The corners of his mouth curved up into a mocking smile as he nodded his head, “It is as you wish, Ancient One.” Then, without another one, he turned around and strode out of the forest.
“Lucien!” Luthien snapped out of his shock when he saw his brother retreating. Drawing his sword from its sheath, the young knight gave chase, only to slam into an invisible barrier and stumble backwards. And then, just as he was once bound by Azarielle, he suddenly found himself unable to move, bound by a power that he could neither see nor break.
“Well, it would seem that the passing of centuries haven’t changed the idiocy of the Knights of Whatever,” the old woman scowled at the breathless young knight. “I told him to shoo, and as you can see, he is shoo-ing. Did I tell you that you can chase after him and be turned into ground human meat? Is that moron, Korbael Thewin’s mental retardation some sort of a curse that passes from generation of idiot knight to generation of idiot knight? It is truly a miracle that your Order hasn’t somehow gotten itself devoured by a dragon or something! Now, be a good little stupid knight and just lay there for a bit alright? When I think you aren’t going to accidentally off yourself somehow, I will let you move.”
With a satisfied humph, the old elven woman turned her attention to Theredoniel. Just like everything else in the forest, the young elf lord was miraculously unharmed, the grievous wound he had received from Luthien having vanished without a trace. Theredoniel knelt on the ground, breathing hard and staring around himself with the look of a man who had just awoken from a terrible nightmare. When he caught sight of the old woman, his eyes widened with alarm and he stumbled back several steps.
“And so, what will you do, little Gwenevar?” the old woman asked, switching to high elven as she stood in front of the young elf.
Theredoniel’s eyes widened in recognition, “You…! Was everything... was it all a dream?”
“What’s a dream, and what’s real… perhaps this is all just another dream,” the old woman shook her head.
Theredoniel turned this way and that to find his wife, and his eyes found Azarielle’s prone form instead. He remembered unleashing the lightning strike against her then, and watching his friend fall. And then, the knight had charged him…
“Where is my wife?” Theredoniel asked, looking away from Azarielle.
“Where faithful followers of the Eternal Father go when their time is accounted for on Faearth, I suppose, or with that malnourished, white-haired human, depending on what you are asking.”
Theredoniel bit back a response and climbed slowly to his feet. Resolutely, he said, “I am leaving. You cannot stop me.”
“Cannot? That is hardly true, little Gwenevar,” the old woman arched an eyebrow at him. “But I won’t. You walk as you will.”
Theredoniel gritted his teeth and turned away, walking out in the direction where Lucien had left, knowing that the pale-haired prince would await him outside the safety of these ancient green boughs. Eowyna would be waiting for him there as well.
“Brother, please don’t!” Ofeera cried out as she ran after him. “My sister is gone, but she is with our Father. Please, she would not wish for you to do this! Neither do I… nor would Azarielle!”
A shimmering shield of lightning sprung up between Ofeera and Theredoniel, halting the young healer in her tracks. With his back turned to her, Theredoniel said, “You are mistaken, Ofeera. Eowyna is just… she’s just unwell. But I will make her better. I am sorry.”
“Theredoniel!” Tears fell from Ofeera’s eyes like pearls from a broken string. She knew that her brother-in-law was deaf to her words just as he had been deaf to Azarielle’s words.
* * * * *
Azarielle was floating above the mouth of a roiling, fiery maelstrom that twisted and churned and sent tongues of hungry red-black flames her way. She could hear a hundred thousand voices howling from within its depth… screaming in despair or singing, she could not tell which. Only moments before, she had been one of those voices.
She remembered being struck by Theredoniel’s lightning, and when the pain of flesh and betrayal had seared her body, she had fallen into the fiery maelstrom of power. As the flames hungrily wrapped around her, her scream had joined the other shrieking voices and discordant, ear-splitting sound had drowned out reason.
The darkness of her own soul had poured out in red-gold flames that reduced everything to ash. She could not see her friends or hear their voices. All that there were, all that she saw were flames, red gold flames and a cold black form that challenged her power.
And when her flames and clashed with that cold blackness, when she had unleashed her power without feeling a need to rein any of it in, without regard of what else she might harm… oh, it had been exhilarating! Fire had coursed through her veins, burning so brightly until everything was transformed into beautiful red gold blossoms.
She had heard a voice laughing, an echoing, dissonant sound, and she had known that it was her voice, along with the hundred thousand other voices in the maelstrom with her.
Then, abruptly, she had felt cool arms wrapping around her and yanking her out of the fire. And since then, she had been floating in darkness, dangling just above the mouth of the maelstrom, wondering if whether or not she would plummet back in.
“I should certainly hope not! Do you know how much trouble it is to prevent you from burning down the forest and plucking you out of your personal little mess, little mage?”
“Red.”
The strange red-headed man was floating some distant away, scowling at her and shaking his head, “You know, when I showed you the Sentinel Grove, it was not for you to have jolly fun being a little pyromaniac. One of these days, I am going to give that Azariel boy a talking to – I mean really, how did he turn such an undisciplined apprentice loose?”
“So the forest didn’t burn down. Did any of the people burn down?” the young mage asked, feeling fear and dread coiling around her like serpents.
Red frowned at her, “Are you suggesting that the great and mighty me, who has seen civilizations rise and fall, would not be able to deal with a little upstart like you?”
“I am suggesting that I am not entirely sure if you are an epic hero or villain yet,” Azarielled replied.
“Ah, well, it would seem that you are not entirely hopeless,” Red replied, his lips pulling into a strange smile. “No one died in the forest, not the elves that lived there, and not even that idiot knight friend of yours, despite his best attempts to have himself thoroughly murdered.”
As relief washed over her, the scenery around them changed. In place of empty darkness and the terrible maelstrom, there came to be a garden filled with beautiful flowers, gently floating mage lights, and a pool that reflected the inky blackness of the night sky and the myriad of stars scattered across it like glittering pearls.
“It is beautiful.”
“It was beautiful, once,” Red’s eyelashes drooped, covering his strange two-colored eyes as he gesture for Azarielle to follow him. “Elucielle’s power was very much like yours. When she was much younger, before she became an Archmage, a… friend of hers presented her with this garden as a gift. Beneath the pool lay a large piece of White Moon Jade, a rare material that retains below freezing temperatures under all circumstances.”
“Sounds like an admirer to me,” Azarielle remarked.
“One of many,” Red replied. “Elucielle would submerge herself in the pool whenever she felt disturbances in her power.”
Azarielle regarded Red for a moment, “Are you telling me to look for it. You said that it was beautiful… it’s not there anymore is it?”
“The garden was destroyed by the army of the Avatar of Acedia centuries past,” Red nodded. “But fortunately, Elucielle took the piece of jade with her when she moved to the Spire of Everstar.”
“So…?”
Red sighed in exasperation, “So, little mage-ling, go ahead and lay in the pool. Do you expect me to sit around and put out your fires all the time?”
“This won’t stop it from happening for good,” Azarielle said.
“No, you will struggle with it for as long as your mortal body walks this world,” Red replied, looking at the young mage with what might have been compassion, or perhaps, understanding, in his eyes. “The power will always roil inside of you. You’ll always hear be tempted to use it as you did today. And you will always hear their voices whispering to you. The Abyssal Ones will always call to you. They will offer you the world in return for your soul. Elucielle Gwenevar never gave herself over to them.”
Azarielle found herself standing on the waters of the pool. Her feet were bare, and a soothing coolness seeped through the skin of her toes. She felt her body slowing sinking beneath the water. The temperature of the water seemed to drop as more of her body was submerged, and the young mage wondered why it was that she didn’t feel alarmed in the least. She also noticed that she didn’t feel any wetness, just a slow numbness filling her with calm.
“And what did they tempt you with?” Azarielle asked, looking at Red.
Red’s answer was another strange smile, “Ask that little Gwenevar friend of yours when you see him again.”
Then, the red of his hair blurred with the two colors of his eyes, and his face stretched out until everything blurred together in one dizzying swirl.
