Remnants of Night

Zofeya Aldridge. The name was connected to a woman of proud carriage and straight shoulders, of long mahogany hair and eyes so lustrously dark one could nearly drown in them.

That may have been the name connected to such a person but it was not her true name—was not my true name. My true name was not to be known, less it be used against me. Not here and not by anyone.

For I was not a good person.

Or at least, I hadn’t always been…

Oregon wasn’t exactly the place you would expect one such as me to live, but I enjoyed it. It was the rain—the near constant lovely dismal rain. Not to say the sun never shined—for it did, as it was this day—but it was just enough to remind me why I truly felt at peace when the skies opened up and did its best to wash away…

Wash away what? It’s not like I harbored guilt. Oh no, not I. There was something else but I couldn’t quite put a finger on it. Perhaps it was a longing. Perhaps it was just that my stocks were down.

Ah well, I wasn’t really the type to carry a grudge for… ten years? Twelve? Is that how long it had truly been? Ok, perhaps I have grown a wee bit wistful and homesick but feelings pass. Power, however, was forever in my eyes. I’d lost my chance at such power that would cause most people of this world to tremble merely at the offer. I’d lost it and that loss still burned.

Much like the sip of a delicious macchiato that I had distractedly drank down. I winced, wrapping my energies around the pain, relishing in it before making it disappear altogether. I had no time for such irritants; there was a sale at Nemdis and I needed new shoes.

Settling into an outside chair at the small café, I surveyed my domain like a queen her kingdom. Blowing gently onto the steaming cup of espresso, I dropped its temperature to something drinkable. Ah, I had to admit, it was lovely being able to openly weave my spells without notice. None of these people could sense anything I did. None of them could sense what I was. They only saw what I wanted them to see.

I hate to brag—it’s such an uncouth act—but I was… am… that powerful. So powerful, in fact, I almost took over an entire world. Yeah, try placing that on your resume. But that was the past and my macchiato was the now. Sipping, I took in the residents around me from behind Cavalli sunglasses. I resided in the ritzy side of Kingston. The streets were of a sandy brick, clean swept. Little purple flowers in baskets hung from contemporary black lamp-posts. Shops lined the two-way road and there were many people out walking, shopping.

Kingston was a pleasant city. Big without being overwhelming—for even I was overwhelmed when I first came here. The morning rain had broken off to reveal a blue sky that teased from behind fluffy white clouds. The sun hit me blindingly bright momentarily and I had to look away down the street. That’s when I noticed I had an admirer across the way. Well, when one has power, one of course isn’t going to let oneself fall behind in the looks department. Let’s just say I don’t have the teeth of a heavy coffee drinker.

My admirer wasn’t trying very hard to not look like he was staring. Surreptitiously as I could behind my shades, I sought a better glance. He wore a plain dark-colored hoodie and jeans, nothing fancy but nothing that would stand out amongst the ritzy citizens of Kingston and I could see his face from where I sat. His skin was pale and as flawless as no one had the right to be without powerful magic. The eyes that watched me were of the most magnificent shade of blue, his nose thin and straight over a luscious cupids-bow of a mouth. Perfect. He was perfect. Yet…

A warning bell went off in my mind like the sound of a cell phone battery on low life. No one was that perfect. Or should I say, no human was that perfect so that made my admirer something else entirely. I knew a term now from my years living with humans and it was a well-rounded, if crude, term: Shit.

I had been found after all these years. In a way, I was slightly relieved but at the same time a little piqued. A decade has gone by, yet they still sought me out? Why? Did I not lose and was forced to flee to a completely different world? Was that not enough for them? ‘Forces of good’, my pale round arse. A surge of anger welled up, boiling the coffee in my hand. The popping bubbles snapped me out of my aggravated musings and I quickly harnessed the, energies lest they make a scene.

Speaking of making a scene, if you have never laid eyes on a Zarhsha, you may have much the same reaction I did moments earlier—they are perfect. Beautiful creatures, I will easily admit. And good too, but in my humble opinion that was one of their greatest shortcomings. They were pure in their views, unswayable and unwavering. Oh how I loathed them. The incorruptible always stuck in my throat. Were a human to lay eyes on one, it could cause a commotion. The literature of this world had a word for a being similar him and it was fairly accurate though I wasn’t sure if this world’s Elves were nocturnal.

As if thinking something much the same, my Zarhsha onlooker tugged his hood a little lower on his visage. It didn’t help much. As I said, Zarhsha were all inherently breathtaking unless you were used to seeing them. Even diamonds lost their luster if you saw them day in and day out. Well, so I’ve been told.

Another thought came to me then: how did this Zarhsha even get here? My portal had been found -that much was obvious—but how did they manage to open it? Had my lands been overrun in my absence and taken by the Pelthocians and their allies? The thought rankled. My lair had been found, but there was much to my lands that the Pelthocians could never even hope to secure. Plus, the Sarkkrai territory was right at hand; a new conquest so close by would tempt them to war once again. I was sure the Sarkkrai had survived and returned to their lands, much like cockroaches would when faced with the unfettered light of mid-day. The Pelthocians would not be able to press them—not after so narrowly achieving victory. The years I have been absent could have seen much change, but subsequent fortification of the Sarkkrai was a given.

Alas, things come and go. This world brought me a kind of contentment I had never sampled before. And I wasn’t about to give that up now and certainly not because of the very ones who lost me my own world. Now then, what to do with my visitor that wouldn’t expose me or make me miss the sale at Nemdis? I took another sip, savoring what could possibly be the last of my relaxation. Damn them….

As casually as I could, I got to my feet and straightened my earthy-gray shrug. Taking my cup of deliciousness with me while feigning interest in the buildings around me as if I hadn’t seen them a hundred times, I made sure the Zarhsha had time to follow. He did.

Not about to lead him back to my residence, I had to make the decision to either catch this wayward Elf and find out why he was here, lose him and hope he went away or… kill him. Make no bones about it—if it comes down to him or I, just remember they called me a villain for a reason.

There didn’t really exist a “bad side” of Kingston; there wasn’t a seedy back-alley that I could lead my admirer down but there was a lonesome construction site not too far from the café (my hopes were pinned on a new clothes boutique but I heard hellish rumors of a sporting goods outlet). I passed a garbage receptacle, took one last swig of coffee and tossed the cup in. Once out of the view of the majority of shoppers, I made a quick right to wait between a stack of lumber and the unflattering teal wall of my future money-absorbing dress shop. There was no point to pretending I didn’t see him—the Pelthocians wouldn’t have sent an idiot.

Crossing my arms, I waited. The moment he should have come into view came and went. Mumbling a curse under my breath, I paced to the corner where the building met the sidewalk. Still, no Elf. Let me tell you something now, when you get to be my age, your temper gets sharper, your patience gets thinner and your power swells like an intake of breath. Well, you do when you are me.

A small sound behind me alerted me to company. I let my irritation lash out without turning and felt it hit with a satisfying thump. Knowing that only gifted humans would be able to sense what I was doing, I had free rein. The Elf had snuck over the roof of the building in order to get behind me—the devious fool—and my irritation sought to wrap around him. What I wanted was to wring his devious neck but I needed information first. With a snap that backlashed sharply back to me, my twisting spell was broken. Blinking roundly, I didn’t let my shock upset me for long. Drawing in my power like a mink stole, I crossed my arms and smiled darkly. “Mage….”

I turned to face my Elven visitor. His topaz gem eyes glowed with inner strength. Though he stood perfectly still, I noted he held his hands away from his sides, palm-down and ready to draw on his magic at a moment’s notice. We studied each other for several breaths. I saw an edge of doubt cloud his eyes and could practically read his thoughts’ path.

“Why have you chosen to seek me out, Zarhsha? You couldn’t possibly have been sent—alone—to defeat me after all this time has passed.” Right to the chase, yep that’s me.

“Then it truly is you…” His voice was soft, accented and had a melty feeling to it as if it could wrap you up in its milk chocolate words. I, of course, was not affected. I already told you about my opinion of the pithy Elves.

“I had doubts that anyone had the ability to follow me here. At least, doubts that anyone alive had the ability. I take it the Pelthocians found my portal?”

“We did.”

His use of the term ‘we’ meant that I had only succeeded in cementing the alliance between the Pelthocians and the Zarhsha. Delightful. “So tell me, why are you now seeking me out?”

“I am an emissary. My name is Trinathe,” the Zarhsha replied formally. He took down his hood, revealing that beautiful chiseled-marble visage and pointed ears. Let me be the first to tell you, books don’t quite have the Elven ears right. Close, but they are more slender, less like ours; more horizontal in their tilt. This Elf had the kind of straight glossy black hair that human women would literally kill for. “I am here to entreat you to return to Lehiras, to abandon whatever machinations you have devised for this unsuspecting land and its people.”

“Oh? And what concern is this land to you, Elf?” I uncrossed my arms, which caused the pale man to stiffen even further. “Ten years it’s been! Ten. Return to your masters. I’ve no time for their games.”

“They told me you might be recalcitrant but I can assure you, the Council is willing to swear your safety if you would but meet with them.”

I chuckled. Who was he trying to kid here? “You are trying my patience. Return to this Council and inform them this land still stands and they are welcome to keep their own as I’ve grown tired of it. Count yourselves lucky.”

“Then current happenings… you…” Trinathe exclaimed, as if only to himself. “Have not … The Sarkkrai are acting on their own? Oh this is news the Council must hear. Please, return with me. They must be aware of this.”

I was growing weary. Ten years ago, I had decimated his people. Through the Sarkkrai, I slaughtered his friends and allies and destroyed his precious forests; and now, this Zarhsha was requesting my presence like I was something else altogether. Fear and hatred—that I would expect. But this? How was a girl supposed to react? In confused aggravation, of course! He needed to be reminded of just who he was addressing.

“Have you forgotten?” I demanded. “Have your flittering-butterfly-wings-for-brains swept aside what I had tried to do? Or perhaps my theory on moonlight deteriorating rational thought was correct.”

“Things… have changed. Much has changed…” Trinathe replied, his voice tight.

“Oh? How so that I am no longer afforded the abject terror I deserve?”

“After your defeat,” Goody for him, he did not burst into flames for uttering such a thing. “The Sarkkrai retreated. For a time, we had peace. We worked on rebuilding our lives, but then rumors began. My people could no longer ignore it, we sent eyes and…” his gem eyes darkened, the perfect skin in between his arched brows furrowed. “their heads were sent back in burlap bags.”

“The Sarkkrai never did care for spies. What does this have to do with me?”

“The Council had suspected you were behind their rousing. A party was sent to take your abode but we found, not you, but a portal gateway.”

“And your assassins put two-and-two together? How nice.” I knew what he meant by ‘party’ and it had nothing to do with obnoxious music and libations. “Get to it, Elf. What are the Sarkkrai doing that concerns me—other than further attempting to rid Lehiras of your presence?”

“They’ve found themselves a new patron—one that whispers poison in their ears and incites them to war once again.”

A jolt of cold lit down my back. They replaced me? Me? True, a decade is plenty of time to find a new hobby but I couldn’t help but feel a tiny spark of jealousy and bitterness. I swallowed down the feeling. “Regretful but not my problem. How the Sarkkrai act without my influence is—”

“This path will lead to their destruction as well as the ruin of Lehiras.”

I frowned at the interruption. “Who is this new patron?”

“We have not been able to discern such as of yet. They are taking extra precautions in their security and our mages have not been able to pierce the curtain that has befallen Rakmorath. All we know is war is imminent.”

It wasn’t difficult to not feel sorry. I tried, really I did, but the fact the alliance had sent assassins to my lair because they thought I was up to something irked me something awful. “Well then thank you for coming all this way to update me on current affairs. Next time, just send me an email. I am a very busy woman.”

“Please, Darkest Despair, the Council only wishes to speak with you. They will not take up too much of your time.”

Ah there was a title I hadn’t heard for quite some time. I smiled. “And what, pray tell, do they wish to speak to me about? Are we to reminisce about the time I was the one behind an ‘imminent war’? Or do they wish to hear about the most joyous affair known as a jewelry sale?” I flicked my hair over my shoulder imperiously. “Return. Tell them I have nothing to say to them anymore.”

“Please, my Lady…” In a startling move, Trinathe lowered his long lean form down to one knee. “If you truly no longer have attachment to our world, then we need your counsel. The Sarkkrai were once your followers—if you do not intervene, many will die. This goes beyond their usual barbaric nature. We fear what they are planning will destroy everything—them, us, the land itself!”

I had no qualms with lying to the Zarhsha before me, but I couldn’t lie to myself. I did… sort of… miss Lehiras. I suppose I even missed the Sarkkrai, in an odd way. The Pelthocians not so much but then I had a very large reason to not like them. Who could be behind the new aggression in the Sarkkrai—they atypically were aggressive but the way Trinathe spoke….

“Who is on this Council you speak of?” I asked.

“The Pelthocian King, his Champion, Chancellor as well as the Zarhsha Trine.”

“Ah, you’ve been busy!”

“I believe you taught us much more than you had cared to, those many years ago.” Trinathe smiled an ice-melting smile.

Perhaps it was that longing for even a taste of home, no matter how brief, had me returning that smile. Some despot I turned out to be. “I am not sure what they hope to gain but,” I paused as he got to his feet, “they may have their meeting. I promise you this though, if they are trying to deceive me or trick me in any way, I will not be repeating my last mistake of letting my enemies continue to draw breath.”

Trinathe had the decency to lose his smile but I could feel his excitement. Home. Could I really be considering this? I guess so…however, first… “I must collect some things. Tell the Council that I will meet with them when I arrive.” I turned to leave but a sound from the Zarhsha brought me back around. I raised an eyebrow.

“Ah, would I be able to accompany you? Back to Lehiras?”

I stared at him for a few moments before replying. “They gave you a one-way ticket, didn’t they? They sent you here without giving you a way back.”

A touch of color rose to his cheeks. His eyes dropped. “It was necessary. I volunteered for this mission because the Council deemed it of utmost importance. I knew what would happen if I failed.”

“How confident were they that you would be returning?” I couldn’t help letting a bit of my anger slip; the wind picked up and sent a flurry dancing around our feet.

“They were optimistic but we all harbored the same thoughts.”

“Which were?”

“That Darkest Despair might not be so interested in Lehiras’ plight if she already held another world in her thrall.”

“Hmph.” I pivoted with a swish of hair. Yup, I did take that as a compliment but I wasn’t about to let him know that. Trinathe pulled his hood up over his ears and followed.