Chapter 8
Chapter Eight
Harper
I n the unlikely event that I live through the witch queen’s torture, I search the long throne room for anything that might help. Faded gold and white arches reach to a high ceiling. It was probably a beautiful hall where parties were held. Now it’s a black and gray tomb with shadow demons hovering around the perimeter. Soot darkens the dozen tall windows, and barely any sunlight comes through. It’s like a long-forgotten Gothic cathedral, but nothing holy could exist here.
Darkness and shadows.
I thought I would be brave in the face of whatever Venora did to me, but my screams echo off the towering, singed stone walls. Black lightning shoots from her fingers and rips into my body. It feels like my blood is on fire, and my bones are being crushed. I collapse to the rough bloodstained stone floor. I will die soon. Blood, my blood, marks everything. I should be dead already. This horrible magic is far worse than the portal.
Venora screams in frustration. “Why won’t she turn? What magic does this puny human have that can thwart my spells?” She strides down the steps of the dais and approaches, but stops a few feet away. “What is the source of your magic?”
“I have no magic.” I try to focus on her face, but my vision is blurry as every part of me wants to fall into oblivion and make this agony stop.
“Lies!” she screeches. “I am the most powerful elf that has ever lived. I am the witch queen. None can resist my magic. You will become part of my shadow demon army. You will be my shining warning to all who would act against me. None will dare come to aid them once one of their prophesized humans is mine.”
Still not breaching some invisible line between us, she shoots her magic at me, and I careen across the bone-breaking floor. My skin tears and scrapes in a dozen places. Pain beyond measure fills my soul.
Where Aaran’s magic had been easy and cool, like grass in a spring breeze, Venora’s magic hurts, even when not directed at me. It’s like a nail digging a path through a steel pipe or the stripping of a metal screw where everyone around cringes.
“There are no old trees to protect her here. Why won’t she die? Why won’t she be taken?” Panic tinges Venora’s voice.
She’s afraid of me. There’s power in that.
“She will fall, my queen. They all will. We will find the right magic to break these human interlopers.” The masculine voice sounds calm and confident.
Venora storms past me, still keeping her distance, and another set of feet follow her.
As my gaze clears, I keep my movements slow and slight, hoping they won’t notice me watching. Knowledge is my only power now. A few feet from me, on a dais, Venora is slouched on an ornate throne. The wood is dark green and gold with inset jewels that have been polished to a shine. It’s the only clean spot in the room.
Strange she would make one spot clean. Why not keep the entire castle alive for her use. I don’t know much about magic, but it seems a small thing to clean or make someone else do it. Unless what looks like charring is something darker. Maybe her evil has permeated the walls. So why not the throne? Too many questions without answers.
With her elbow on the padded arm, Venora leans on her hand. She’s even paler than she was in the woods. Perhaps trying to kill me has weakened her.
Aaran said that even Venora had to deal with the limitations of magic and its costs.
“I want her to feel the emptiness of shadow.” Her voice bites with rage.
A tall, slim man stands at her right hand. “I will help you find the magic that will destroy her and those like her. We will make the humans from the prophecy wish they’d never been born, and when we are done with Domhan, we will take the human world for our own.” With hair as white as snow, he has a face as young and fair as all the elves. His eyes are black as night, and his lips rosy, like a child’s. He is a hideous amalgamation of contrast. Once, he might have been handsome; now evil emanates from his every pore.
With eyes filled with adoration, she looks up at him. “Do you promise, Ciaran? I’m tired and need to rest. Will you go through the old scrolls and find the magic to destroy that?” She waves a hand in my general direction.
I close my eyes and hold my breath. Going unnoticed for a time is my best hope. I don’t think I can survive more torture.
Ciaran commands, “Take it away. Put it in the dungeon.”
Footsteps pad across the stone, and two sets of dirty bare feet approach me. I’m lifted gently and removed from the hall. A tall, sallow-faced elf with his head covered by a brown hood is my transport. He follows a smaller elf with a similar hood.
Rather than being handled like baggage as I expect, I’m reverently held like a child, carried down several passages and staircases, and placed on the floor of a cell.
“Who are you?” My voice is rough and scrapes painfully against my raw throat.
“Dorian.” He gestures to the female elf. “Cara.”
“I am Harper. Why are you here?” Why are these beautiful creatures filthy and living in this evil place?
Dorian cocks his head. “She took everyone from our village, bound our magic, and brought us here to serve her. She turns those who oppose her into shadow demons.” He points out the barred window high on the wall where dark wisps of evil troll the sky.
“I’m sorry.” I try to sit up, but every molecule in my body hurts, so I rest my cheek on the cold stone floor.
Removing his hooded cloak, Dorian says, “Our enslavement was not your doing.” He lays it on the ground, and then lifts me onto it. “You must be important and powerful to have resisted her magic and made her so angry.”
“I’m supposed to help two others defeat her.” Even shrugging hurts. I ball up the hood and rest my cheek on the rough fabric. “Thank you, Dorian.”
He nods gravely. “Cara will return with food, and if we can find some medicine, we will bring it. Her voice was removed with magic, and she cannot speak. The witch queen needed Cara’s healing magic, so she wasn’t completely bound like the rest of us. Many other forms of magic require spoken spells, but she can still heal and help you as healing magic is through touch.”
My chest tightens thinking of what these elves have suffered under the thumb of a tyrant.
They turn, walk out of my cell and close the door.
A moment later, the lock clicks into place, though I see no jailer.
Maybe this is where I’ll die. My heart knows Aaran will come for me. I don’t know how or when, but he will do whatever it takes to free me. All I have to do is stay alive long enough to be rescued.
The portal could have taken me a day or weeks away, so it’s impossible to know how long before Aaran, Bert, and Nainsi will come to help me. The idea of weeks of the torture I just endured makes me ache in my soul. My body hurts too much to sob the way I need to, but the tears come and dampen Dorian’s cloak.
Outside, demons screech as they circle the castle. The window has no glass, and the sound grates on the inside of my skull and grows louder until my cell rings with their horror. My skin prickles with their pain, as if I’ve touched someone deeply troubled and can’t get away.
This is its own kind of suffering. I cover my ears with my hands, but their pain bleeds through, and I’m riddled with the pain of the demons’ purgatory. I want to save them, but they are hers and beyond help from me or anyone else. I think about Dorian and Cara and wonder how many other elves are held here as slaves. At least they might be rescued. Trying to focus on what can be done eases the flow of shadow demon pain, but doesn’t remove it.
Unable to sleep, I shake and have no control to reel in the emotions or the effects.
It might be hours or minutes that passed before Cara returns. Silently, she places a tray on the stone floor and kneels beside me. Placing her hand on my cheek, she somehow dims the onslaught of the shadow demons’ torment. Her touch is feather-like, and her fingers cool. Without a word, she conveys that I must build a wall in my mind to keep them out.
I pray for the strength to build that wall, and the screeching leaves my head. Though they can still be heard outside.
“Thank you, Cara.” I struggle to sit.
Offering her hand, she silently helps me, but will not meet my gaze.
I take the cup of water, and with shaking hands, I drink. After one bite of the hard biscuit, I put it down. The effort is too great.
Cara takes a packet from inside her cloak. The beautiful green dress I borrowed from Selina is ripped along my side and the silver has lost its sheen. Cara pulls the fabric aside. She smooths something cool on my skin along my battered ribs.
I jerk away from the touch. “Sorry. It hurts.” I keep my voice low so I don’t scare her off.
Cara’s eyes are soft blue and full of sympathy. She continues to tend my cuts and bruises. The light buzz of her magic eases my pain enough that I can take a full breath.
Venora made me bleed. No. It was the stone floor that cut me when I fell. “Why doesn’t she use a sword or knife?”
The hint of a smile plays on Cara’s lips.
I don’t expect a reply, but I like that she smiles. At least I know she can hear me, even if she can’t speak. “She could shoot an arrow through my heart and kill me. I’m only flesh and blood. Is it pride or something else?”
As Cara smooths the salve along my shoulder blade, it hurts so much I wince. Her hand stills for a moment, and then she continues. When she finishes, she looks at me and presses her hands together as if in prayer.
I don’t know if she means to say that she’ll pray for me or that I should pray. I can promise her that I’m praying. Instead of saying that, I give the same gesture. My father’s ring no longer sits on my finger. It must have fallen off. “Thank you. You are very kind.”
The thought of my treasure in the hands of that horrible witch is somehow worse than torture. It’s completely stupid considering my situation, but I wait for Cara to leave before I let the tears fall. I shouldn’t cry over a ring. I’m alive, and I should be thankful for that. Still, that ring felt like the last link to my world.
Somehow, I have to live. This world may not survive if I die. That horrible man said they’d go to Earth next. I can’t let either world suffer if I can stop it. “Why doesn’t Venora stab me through the heart?”
With my eyes closed, I float in a space between asleep and awake. The liminal state is soft, and the pain of my flesh ebbs away. This is how I imagine death will feel.
“You are not dead, Harper Craig.” The voice is strong and feminine.
I open my eyes, and rather than the cold cell of my prison, I’m in a field where a breeze moves the grass. But I don’t feel the wind or the grass. “This isn’t real.”
An elven woman with long blond hair and bright blue eyes walks out of a cloud and stands in front of me. “It’s not false either, daughter of the human world. You are here with me in your mind. I hoped you might relax enough that I could speak to you.”
There’s something familiar about her. Her gaze is direct with command and kind with concern. “You’re Aaran’s mother?” She barely looks older than him, but I know I’m right just the same.
She smiles and dips her chin in the slightest nod. “Elspeth Riordan. He blames himself for you being in danger.”
“Is he coming for me?” I’ve never had a dream so real, yet I know this is more reality than vision.
“He will do what he can, but it will be up to you to survive.” She steps closer and puts a hand on my cheek.
I can’t feel her touch, but I sense the mothering it conveys. “He saved my mother’s life. Even though I told him I wouldn’t come and help him, he saved her life. It nearly killed him. You should be very proud of him.”
Staring at me, she cocks her head. “He is a fine man. You have changed him. I only saw him in the scrying pool, but I could see the change.” She shakes the thought away, and her expression grows serious. “Listen to me now. There isn’t much time. Venora will try to turn you, kill you, and even make you a demon. You must hold on. You’re not elven or of a world she’s learned the magic of. It will take her time to learn enough to do you real harm.”
“Why doesn’t she use a blade?”
Elspeth tightens her jaw in the same way Aaran does when he’s considering something. “She doesn’t wish to get too close to you. It’s wise not to touch unknown magic.”
“She could shoot an arrow or throw a spear. There are so many ways to kill a human. Why does she only use magic?” It feels like this is important.
“I will ask the oracle. In the meantime, we shall count it a blessing. Stay alive, Harper. Help is coming.” Elspeth fades away as a cloud blows in and covers her.
Lying on the stone and Dorian’s cloak, I shiver, even in my sleep.
Aaran
Twenty miles doesn’t seem like much, but when you factor in rough terrain and no roads, it takes longer than I’d like, even on the fine horses meant to make the journey easier. The entire way, I’m near panic thinking about what Harper might be enduring.
She’s still alive. I can’t quite explain how I know, but I feel her inside me, as if her heart beats alongside mine. There’s comfort in that, but it’s not enough. I want to tear a hole in the world to get to her, but I have to settle for an ancient portal created by the old gods.
When we reach the stand of trees marked by a jagged stone jutting from the ground, we dismount.
Jax hands his reins to his son. “You’ll take the horses and meet your mother on the road.” He ruffles his hair.
Once the animals are tethered, Broc mounts, and with one last look at his father, he rides down the mountain toward the road where Selina’s people will migrate toward the new city.
I step past the stone and through the edge of the forest. Blinking until my eyes adjust to the shade of the woods, I focus on two large pillars capped by a black stone to form an arch. Like the trees near Clandunna, these trees are old. They sway and creak, and a wiser elf might know what warning they give. I have neither the time nor the skill to listen to their message.
Lifting my hands, I bring the portal magic.
“Speak one word, boy, and I’ll flay open your elven gut.” The gruff voice comes from behind the tree just left of the portal.
“Show yourself.” I draw my sword, as does the rest of the party.
Bert narrows his eyes and holds a small throwing knife near his ear.
A man perhaps four feet tall, but wide with muscle, steps into view. His eyes are dark brown, and his hair is of similar color and wildly tangled with his beard. His leather armor and knee- high boots leave no doubt this is a dwarven warrior. “You have no business here. This gate is held by my father’s father.”
“Dwarves have no place this far south,” Jax bites out with his sword ready to battle. “Go back to your mountains and greedy ways.”
“The old gods gifted this to my family. I am the honored one to guard it against the likes of you.” The dwarf holds a two-handed sword high.
With a sigh, I lower my weapon and make a formal bow. “Good dwarf, we have urgent need of this portal.”
He scoffs, but his eyes are intelligent, and he lowers his sword. “What need could you have that would interest me, elf?”
Think Aaran. Don’t be rash just because Jax looks ready to lop off the dwarf’s head.
I motion my crew to lower their weapons. Nainsi and Bert instantly stand down, and after a tense moment, Jax and the others do as well. The warriors look to Jax for what to do next. Four men, all well trained and ready to kill this dwarf with whom they have no issue, but solely based on bad blood between the races from before any of them were born.
In a formal tone, I say, “I am Aaran, son of Elspeth Riordan.”
The dwarf pulls his shoulders back and holds his sword in front of him with the point facing down. “I am Fancor, son of Fan.”
I bow again. “Are you forbidden to let anyone through the portal, Fancor, or is the use at your discretion?”
His chest puffs up. “The portal of the old gods is for urgency, not to get a pup home to his mother.”
The way he growls makes me smile, but I hold my amusement. “I can assure you our need is far greater than seeing my honored mother, though that would be a valid use in my opinion, good dwarf.”
Fancor laughs. “Perhaps it would, but I would be remiss in my duty if I let ye pass for that purpose.”
“Perhaps so.”
Jax steps forward. “Just kill him. If you won’t do it, I have no qualms.” He lifts his sword.
For his part, Fancor only raises an eyebrow, making me wonder if he could have killed us all before we stepped into the trees, but waited to find out our purpose.
Placing my hand on Jax’s arm, I bite my tongue, not wanting to have to remind him that on this occasion, I am in command. “Wait.” Keeping my voice soft and cordial despite my mounting worry over Harper, I choose reason. “Fancor, perhaps you might let me tell you why we need this gate.”
He scratches his beard. “I have been here for three moons without company and am not opposed to hearing a tale. Tell your story, Aaran, son of Elspeth. But be warned, if you are agents of the witch queen, I will kill you all.”
It’s not often that a threat is good news, but in this case, I take Fancor’s words as hopeful. I tell him a brief version of the past few weeks, beginning with the prophecy and ending with Harper trading her life for the lives of the villagers and being taken by the witch queen. “So, good dwarf, you can see why we need to reach the old city with great haste. I cannot leave Harper with that monster. Even if we didn’t need her help, I could not leave her to such a fate.”
Fancor runs his hands over his long beard. “I had not heard that a prophecy had been found. This human woman, Harper, how can you be sure she’s not already dead or worse?”
Rage fights its way up my chest, but I push it down. “She lives and is whole.”
He cocks his head. “You sound very certain.”
“If it were a simple thing to destroy Harper, then Venora would have done it with all of us as an audience.” I give Nainsi a nod. “She couldn’t destroy her with the magic she knows. That’s not to say she can’t hurt and ruin someone so pure of heart as Harper. Nor is it assurance that the witch won’t learn new magic and try again and again.” My heart is pounding, and I have to still my shaking hands. I have to get to Harper.
With a curt nod, Fancor sheaths his sword at his back. “I will go with you. If this human holds the fate of our world within her, my sword will be hers.”
Jax growls. “You have no need to spy on us, dwarf.”
Hands perched on his hips, Fancor faces the much taller elf. “Don’t I, elf? It was your kind who raised the witch queen, and then when she turned to dark, you allowed her to prosper. If the elves had stopped her all those years ago, you would have female babies. Your doom is counting down, is it not? Do not forget that it was your soft belief in reasoning with a witch that is the peril of all of Domhan. Dwarves have seen only sons all these years. We lost the dragons, who hide from this cursed place. I know the fairies, who keep to their own, have also been damaged by the incompetencies of elves to manage their own.”
“She is evil, but that is not our fault.” Jax’s conviction wavers, and his tone eases. He shakes his head. “We never believed she would go so far, and when she did, it was too late. All elves bear the shame of Venora’s betrayal.”
“Either I go with you, or none shall pass.” Fancor reaches for his sword.
Hoping for peace, I hold up my hand palm out. All this arguing and placing blame is taking up time. I need to get to the old city. “Your generous offer to assist is welcome, Fancor. Will you open the gate, or shall I?”
“This magic isn’t for the faint of heart, Aaran Riordan. Are you certain your heart is pure enough to wield such a spell?” Fancor’s voice is full of gruff warning.
“Perhaps that is the true test, friend.” Without waiting for more, I lift my hands and call the magic, all the while considering my mother’s words of warning. My magic must be pure. I know from my studies that the gates of the old gods can transport anywhere another gate is present. No one knows how many of these exist in Domhan and beyond, so I keep my focus on the old city.
In the center of my mind, the image of Harper alone, beaten and crying forms. Her pain echoes through me. She is my only goal, the source of my most powerful magic, and where my loyalties lie. I see nothing but her. I hear only her voice and sorrow. Within her, I feel hope and her belief that I will come for her.
“That’s quite good.” Fancor laughs and slaps me on the back. “For an elf.”
In the center of the arch, rainbow colors swirl, throwing wind toward us.
“This is going to hurt.” Bert grips Nainsi’s hand, and the two walk in before I can, planning to protect me from whatever might be on the other side.
Worried about whatever that might be, I jump through the portal. It pulls me in every direction at once. Light and dark come in waves. Images flash through my mind in random succession, first of my mother, and then of the witch queen. Harper glows with dark magic and screams in pain. Slashing with his battle sword and throwing magic, Fancor bullies his way past a crowd of dark elves. Bert ducks, a dagger barely missing him.
I can’t tell what’s real, or if any of it is. The images are disjointed. My stomach roils, as if I’m rolling down a steep hill in an out-of-control cart. Landing with a hard slam against the ground, I instinctively shield my face as thorns bite my skin.
“We’ve got you.” Bert grips my arm and yanks me from the briars.
Nainsi pulls back the tangled bramble, but not before Fancor tumbles through, effectively flattening out most of the thorn bush.
“What in the demons’ dark is all this?” He rips a thorn from his biceps. “I’ve not been through here before. I never wanted to get this close to that witch.”
“I’d say no one has been through in quite some time.” I help Nainsi pull the rest of the bush back just in time to save the warriors the pain. They still come through hard and grunt as they impact the limestone ground.
The portal took us across the Beò Ocean to the eastern continent of Ear Talamh. Night falls earlier here. In the distance comes the shadow demons’ wails. The castle spire and battlement in the old city peek over the ridge. My gut twists. Harper is in that terrible place. I am to blame, but those thoughts will not help her. It’s more important to get her out of there, and then beat myself up later when I beg her forgiveness.
Bert slaps my back, and I wonder if he’s thinking the same thing.
Fancor takes his place beside Bert, who guards Nainsi’s back as we march toward probable death. “You are neither elf nor dwarf.” He narrows his eyes. “What manner of being are you then?”
Always easy in manner, Bert grins. “I’m a human, like the woman we go to save.”
Fancor gapes. “Are you now? You’re the first I’ve met. So, if I understand such things, you have no magic in you? How do you live?”
Bert shrugs. “We don’t miss what we never had. Until I met Nainsi, I didn’t even know such things were possible. Humans managed quite nicely without what you call magic. We have an occasional miracle, and we’re happy with it. Besides, where you have magic, we have electricity.”
With the rocky path getting steeper and the ground less forgiving, we’re forced to climb in single file. As the sun dips below the horizon, the shadow demons’ wails grow louder.
Fancor says, “I’d like to hear more about your world and its miracles, sir.”
Nodding, Bert grips a rock to keep steady. “I’ll be happy to tell you as soon as we have Harper safe, friend.”
My gut twists. She’s alive, I tell myself. Clutching my chest, I feel her there. Closing my eyes, I listen for the song of her soul, and it whispers weakly to me. Steadying my breathing, I pull myself together and focus on the job before us. Get to the old city, find Harper, and get her out alive. It’s hard to ignore my affection for her, but I have a duty that supersedes my desires.
As we crest the next rise, a clearer view of the second tower and shadow demons swirling around the old castle further darkens my mood. Attacking the tower at night when the demons are more active is suicide. “Stay low, but keep moving.”
Jax steps beside me. “We’ll have to wait for daylight.”
“I know.” But I don’t like it.