Shadows

Part Two: The Western Road

Ambriel opened his eyes gingerly. Then shut them again. He cautiously opened one eye, then the other, and blinked several times. He was certain he’d been standing on a mountainside knee deep in snow. He was certain he had felt the biting wind and numbing chill of ice against his skin. There had been the definite sensation of a wolf leaping towards his neck.

None of that was there now.

Instead of the thick furs he had been wearing on the mountainside, he was clad in a ceremonial robe of yellow and orange with silver trim, and instead of a frozen landscape he found himself stood in a courtyard of polished marble. An impressively carved fountain gently trickled crystal clear water into a large basin. Bees buzzed back and forth between an array of brightly coloured and sweet smelling flowers, and birds sang delicately in the trees around the edge of the courtyard. Crimson and ochre leaves fell from the branches of the trees, and the whole scene reminded Ambriel very much of his home in the South before he had had to flee to the North to escape the rage of his kinsmen. He half expected his wife to come sauntering into the courtyard from the arched walkway around the square. That was impossible though of course – his beloved wife was long dead.

“Ambriel?” came a lilting voice from behind him that made his hair stand on end. It couldn’t be. It just couldn’t.

Slowly, with a steely determination not to surrender to hope, Ambriel turned around. Before him stood the woman who in his eyes was the most beautiful of all, his darling wife Clarys.

“It can’t be,” breathed Ambriel, his voice wavering, “You died. I saw it.”

“Yes. I am dead,” nodded Clarys sadly, her rich raven hair tumbling down her shoulders.

“Then I must be too, for I can see you before me as if you were alive.”

“I’m afraid so, my love. What of our daughter?” Clarys inquired tentatively, her deep green eyes wide and her lips quivering, unsure she wanted to know the answer.

“Safe, I hope,” reassured Ambriel. “I hid her from the humans, and she should lie there undisturbed until it is safe to awake. No-one will be able to find her hiding place in a thousand years.”

“Good,” sighed Clarys, “You have done well, my dear. I had no doubt you would keep her safe.” She rested a slender hand upon Ambriel’s shoulder and leaned in close to kiss him, rising on tiptoes. Ambriel inclined his head down to meet hers.

Clarys snorted and turned her head away, laughing to herself at some joke unknown to Ambriel.

“Are you alright, my darling?” Ambriel inquired nervously. He stepped back as Clarys transformed before his eyes, her black hair igniting and sparkling away into silver strands, her pale white robe shimmering and twisting into a deep blue gown flecked with resplendent jewels. Of course, Ambriel groaned to himself. He watched as Clarys’ face morphed into that of Marielle Aquall of the Water Spire[16], who was laughing so hard her eyes watered.

“Oh, you sentimental old fool!” she chuckled, as Ambriel saw Varkun Ferrinus, leader of the Earth Spire, emerge from behind a marble arch and enter the courtyard, arms folded. Ambriel seethed with fury, and stepped towards Marielle, fist raised. Varkun’s hand shot out and stopped Ambriel before his blow could connect.

“Don’t be foolish,” growled the tower of a man, lowering Ambriel’s arm with little effort. “And that’s enough from you Marielle!” he barked at the woman, still giggling to herself.

“You should watch how you speak to me, Varkun. You may sit at the right hand of the King but we both know who has his ear,” smirked Marielle. “I just thought our dear old brother Ambriel could do with seeing a familiar face to greet him here.”

“You always were skilled with illusions sister,” spat Ambriel, “Perhaps you could conjure yourself up a more palatable persona.”

“You lost the right to call me sister when you married that creature,” Marielle countered, her words laden with venom. Ambriel felt his anger rise once more but Varkun stepped between the two of them.

“Enough! I grew tired of your sibling rivalry long ago. Do you know where you are, Lord Ambriel?”

“He is no lord, Varkun, do you not remember? He was banished along with the rest of the filthy traitors I once called family.”

“Silence, Marielle!” rumbled Varkun. “I shall not suffer you to speak again, understood? You have had your fun, now leave us.” Marielle glared at Varkun and shot a malicious look at her brother before sweeping out of the courtyard.

“Thank you, Lord Varkun,” sighed Ambriel. The giant man nodded in response.

“I did not expect you to arrive here, old friend. I feared you were dead. What of the rest of your family? Your mother, Maelaan?” Ambriel hung his head and shook it sadly. “I am sorry,” replied Varkun with genuine sympathy. “The King will want to see you, as I am sure you realise.”

“I dreaded as much,” groaned Ambriel. “Permit me a question. Where is ‘here’?”

“Where do you think we are?” replied Varkun after a thoughtful pause.

“There is only one place where I would be subjected to my sister’s foul torments. I must be in Hell.” Varkun chuckled, a deep resounding laugh.

“Hell would be a blessing compared to where we find ourselves. Contrary to your sister’s words, none of us are dead in the traditional sense. Look up.”

Ambriel looked up past the marbled walls of the courtyard, past the canopies of the trees and it was then he realised something was very wrong. Instead of a calming blue sky dotted with wispy clouds, the sky was a tumultuous rage of scarlet and orange hues, dancing and clashing furiously. Runes criss-crossed through the battle of colours, smaller ones darting about trying to hide from the storm whilst larger runes soared across undauntedly. Ambriel’s mouth dropped as he gazed into the maelstrom of madness.

“You mean to tell me we are inside the Orb?” Varkun nodded sagely.

“Indeed.”

“My eyes must deceive me. It is another of my sister’s illusions for certain. The Ether Spire said it could not be done.”

“And yet our King achieved it. His final gambit.” Varkun sat down on a polished stone bench and gazed up at the sky too. “We were losing the war with the humans. We had fought too long amongst ourselves; grown too blind in our bloodthirst and ignorance. There were too few of us left to stand against the tide of their rage. The King ordered the leaders of the Spires to gather our people back to his stronghold of Ashhollow, where he was to reveal his plan to save our race.

“When we all arrived, it was frightful how few of us remained. I found myself thinking that even if we blessed few could survive, our race could not. Nevertheless, the King told us of his proposal.

“‘The Orb has granted us immeasurable power’, he said, ‘Now we must trust in its strength once more. Despite the scepticism of many, your King has concocted a great spell that will bind us within the Orb and keep us safe from the miserable humans!’

“Their armies had followed us to Ashhollow, and they had rallied a great force indeed, sensing our weakness. We could hear them assailing the walls of the fortress as we cowered inside like the rats we were. Still our king spoke:

“‘Place your faith in me and in the power of the Orb! We shall hibernate safely down the years within its embrace, and once the humans have grown fat and ignorant and weak, we shall emerge once more to wipe them off the face of the world like the vermin they are!’

“As the castle shattered around us we all joined in chanting with the King as he began to cast his spell. Many who were weakened from their flight to the safety of Ashhollow, or who did not fully believe in the King were destroyed by the power of the spell as it raged around us. Even I caught myself doubting in his leadership and was nearly ripped apart by the twisting vortex, only being saved by convincing myself this was what was best for our people.

“When I awoke I was lying in the chambers of my old home, and initially I hoped the war had been nothing but some foul dream. As I explored my surroundings I began to worry that I had died and been transported to the afterlife, but then I opened the doors to my chambers. Outside I saw what you see above you, the swirling anger of the Orb surrounding me. We had succeeded in secreting ourselves within the Orb, but we had not been as successful as we had hoped.

“After what seemed like millennia of searching for other survivors within the chaotic turmoil I happened across another member of the Earth Spire. Slowly but surely we found more survivors of our race, including your sister and our King. At first he revelled in his success, but as it became apparent only seven of our once mighty race had survived, he descended into despair and madness, stewing in his hatred of the humans and brutally slaughtering any who considered his final gambit a miserable failure.

“Only I, your sister, and the King remain now. None of the Ether Spire survived, and I thought none of the Air Spire had either, until you arrived. I do not know why you are here, or why the King’s spell saved you as well, but I do not wish to question it. It is good to see you again, Ambriel.”

“And you, Varkun,” grinned Ambriel weakly. “It is a grave situation we find ourselves in.”

“Indeed,” agreed Varkun, “But I do not think we would both be here if we did not have hope, have some belief that one day our people may yet grow strong again.”

“I believe in the future of our people with all my heart,” smiled Ambriel wistfully.

“You speak of your daughter?” enquired Varkun. Ambriel nodded.

“My dear Keliashyrr.”

“‘Child of two worlds.’” Varkun smiled, translating roughly. “You named her well.”

“Thank you.” Ambriel smiled in response. “Now come,” he said, drawing himself up, “Let me see the sorry state our King is in.”

Like the slow melting of glittering icicles, the enchantments within the cave dispelled. Deep inside, the precious child who had slumbered there for centuries felt life return to her, in a rush of smell and sound and sight. Gracefully she began to unfold, stretching sensation back into long slender limbs and reversing the embrace of rigor mortis. She rolled her neck to relieve the stiffness of sleep, arched her head back… and promptly smacked it against the ceiling of the cave.

She swore unintelligibly, though any keen listener could have discerned the words meaning. Then, pain suddenly forgotten, the girl exclaimed again, delighting in the act of speech. Her voice was croaky and strained, her throat dry from disuse, but that did not stop her squeaking high and rumbling low, shouting then whispering, exploring the wonders of language. She paused, panting and smiling, and slightly regretted that her first spoken word in this world had been a profanity.

But that did not matter now! She grinned, filled with boundless energy. I am awake, and I am free; free to explore! Brushing dirt off herself, she reached out towards a large rock around which light was shimmering, and pushed it to one side. Bright, blinding light burst in, and the girl began to make her way towards it.

Clambering forth on hands and knees towards the dazzling light streaming in through the cave entrance, the girl emerged into the world. Climbing to her unsteady feet, she gasped and smiled as the sun beat down on her, closing her eyes against the harsh but brilliant light. She could hear the birds tweeting in the trees, the soft trickle of a distant river, the lazy buzzing of the bees between the flowers. She could feel the gentle caress of the wind, the warm embrace of the sun, the soft tickle of the fresh grass between her toes. Blinking, she opened her eyes and took in the array of vivid and gorgeous colours painted across the landscape. The bright, calm blue of the open sky, the luscious greens of the trees and grass, the plants and flowers bursting forth with brilliant yellows and reds and purples and pinks.

She could sense the heartbeat of the world, and her heart beat in time with it.

Being in the cave had been safe, been secure… been boring. But this, this was living! The girl grinned, and she whooped loudly to the open sky. Life was so wonderful! She took a clumsy step forward and slipped on a dewy patch of grass, landing abruptly on her bottom. Life was so dangerous! She laughed – why, any minute she could be harmed! That tree could fall on me, the girl thought, or that bee could sting me. Momentarily distracted, she gazed in wonder as a fat bumblebee lazily buzzed across her vision and landed on a blue flower, the stem of the plant sagging slightly under the creature’s weight.

How wonderful it must be to fly through the air like that, the girl thought. How I wish I could fly…

Standing again, she planted her feet firmly on the ground and gazed into the open sky, licking her lips with anticipation. Practically buzzing herself, she forced her hands down, palms stretched out to the ground. She urged forth energy, desperately trying to force herself into the air by propelling herself up with magic, but nothing happened. She took a deep breath, flexed her fingers, and tried again. Still nothing. The girl sighed, and rolled her head to the sky. Whilst perhaps her own magic didn’t come as readily as she had hoped, that was no reason not to have fun. No reason not to experience the rush and thrill of flying through the air.

With careful precision she tumbled forwards into a handstand, before toppling forwards into a front flip. Giggling to herself as she went, she flipped again into a cartwheel and squealed happily as the world became a blur of wondrous colours as she glided across the ground, no one hand or foot touching the ground for long before parting to sail round in a graceful arc. It was only as she tumbled into her sixth flip that she realised she had no idea how to stop.

She collided with a fir tree and yelped as the thin branches whipped against her skin, letting out a breathless gasp as she tumbled back to the ground and landing in the grass next to the roots of the tree. The grass was prickly, her body ached from the fall, and her skin felt as though it was cut in a hundred tiny places from the tree’s branches and leaves.

Quite contrary to the situation however, the girl laughed.

Being alive was fantastic!

At the back of her mind, she could hear her father’s voice chiding her for such reckless behaviour. Quite literally. He had left a magical impression of himself behind in her head that she could hear talking to her, telling her how silly it was to be doing such irresponsible, dangerous things – but she didn’t care. Too long had she lain in that cave, listening to her father’s ghostly voice as his protective spells surrounded and nurtured her.

Now’s the time to do what I want to do, thought Keliashyrr, daughter of Ambriel and Clarys; heir to the Air Spire of the Olossa. And I want to have fun.

[16] The people of the Olossa were led by a council of the ‘Five Spires’ – Earth, Water, Fire, Ether, and Air. In the beginning they had periodically elected a Speaker of the Council’s Will, whose job it was to relay their orders and see them carried out. Over time the role of Speaker had grown in importance until those in its position often held it for life, and gradually their role became less of a mouthpiece and more of a leader. In a move that had sparked outrage and a civil war amongst the Olossa that eventually led to their downfall, the current Speaker, Fortis Arcturus, had named himself King and ruler of all. He had disbanded the council and made his word law, which naturally had not sat comfortably with many, chief among which had been the Spire of Air, Ambriel’s family.