Chapter 32: Not this time

Shina woke with a start, bolting up on her sleeping pallet. She’d felt an arm on her. It was a soothing, caring arm.

Am I dreaming? Shina wondered.

Opening her eyes, she looked up into the handsome face of Kellar, leaning over her. She was lucky to still be half asleep, or she’d send out such a fierce bolt of electricity that not even she would survive. “Good morning, Shina. The sun’s just about to rise, and I thought we could watch it together.”

Shina bit her tongue, hard, forcing every last bit of control she had over her flowing magic. She felt herself blush, and worried that there’d be no blood left in her body at the rate it was charging into her face.

“S-s-sure,” she croaked, rolling up her sleeping pallet and placing it in the bag on Pancake’s back. He was still sound asleep, the big cutie. She kissed his nose and he purred, licking his lips with his hand-sized tongue. She loved her Gryphon.

They never flew at night. It was too dark to see the ground from their normal altitude, and too risky to fly low enough to make out the terrain. More than just a few riders had died attempting night travel.

One of Shina’s favorite things about traveling by Gryphon was the ability to sleep in places no other people could. This morning, they were camped on a relatively small ledge of an impossible to climb mountain. Shina wondered if she’d been the first Elf to ever sleep on it, likewise Kellar and Mistress Orellia the first humans. It was almost tall enough to reach the clouds. It gave Shina a feeling of empowerment to be in such inaccessible places.

In just two days, they’d crossed a distance that would take months by normal means of travel. In another day they’d be in Sehn’s general area, and from there Shina would be able to pinpoint his precise location.

Kellar prepared her a small breakfast of dried fruit and nuts, sitting next to her with their feet hanging off of the ledge. Shina wiggles her toes, looking below her and feeling a pinch in her stomach. If she leaned forward, she’d fall thousands of feet to her death.

The sunrise was beautiful, made more so by the fact that she was viewing it with Kellar. One day she’d get the courage to tell him how she felt, but that day wouldn’t be today. No, right now she had to stay focused on capturing her idiot brother.

Mistress Orellia woke with a yawn, rubbing her face and spitting. “Yuck, Oona,” she said. The Gryphon had walked over to her, slurping at her in its version of kisses. “Someone has bad breath,” she muttered.

She sat up, and wiped her face off with the soft tip of her sleeping pallet. Before she put it down, the giant animal licked at her yet again. “Oh, come on,” Orellia complained. “I get it, I get it. You love me. Kiss someone else, what’s wrong with Pancake?”

Gryphons were smart, and the animal had no problem understanding her words. The Gryphon stood straighter, made a “hmph” sound, and faced away. Pancake, awaking only moments earlier, lowered his head in shame, and Kellar laughed at the exchange. The two Gryphons were in the midst of a lover’s quarrel, and Shina pitied her poor Gryphon.

“It’s alright,” Shina said. “Whatever it is, I’m sure she’ll forgive you.”

Pancake moaned, clearly not trusting her assurances. Shina gave him another kiss on the nose, and packed up the rest of her belongings from the makeshift camp. She stretched, yawning, and placed the riding harnesses on Pancake’s back.

I still can’t believe I’m riding with Kellar, Shina thought. All the girls are going to be so jealous when we get back to Magia!

They mounted a few moments later. “On three,” Orellia said. “One—two—three.”

Normally a rider would follow on three by giving their Gryphons the command to fly. Shina didn’t need to. Pancake was so used to flying in formation with Mistress Orellia and Oona that the moment the two took off Pancake followed on his own. Shina glanced over her shoulder, seeing the mountain grow smaller in size and gain distance behind her. She loved the sights just after a takeoff, that very first burst of air that brought the feelings of adventure.

They flew through the clouds, and over the forests and lakes that passed below them. Even after two days of flying, Shina was still unable to get used to Kellar’s hands around her waist. He was oblivious to her feelings, of that she was certain. Kellar was naive in many ways. He was kind, caring, bold, and adventurous, but he didn’t seem to pick up on other people’s feelings. Shina had wanted for so long to tell him the way she felt, the unbearable crush she’d carried since they first met. Yet, she couldn’t. Even the possibility of rejection was enough to almost overpower her rubber gloves, and send electricity coursing through her Gryphon.

The scenery changed after they flew above several more forests. Orellia lowered their altitude at Shina’s request. Now Shina could make out small villages every few miles, people shuffling around with water jugs and planting crops. Many looked up at them in wonder. Parents held up their young as they passed, the little ones waving at the people in the sky. Most knew of Magia, the order of magic, and the extravagant way they traveled. Many were never able to see it for themselves, however, and the thought of the little human children bragging to their friends someday about what they’d seen made her laugh.

“Mistress Orellia.”

“Yes, Shina?”

“Do you think that someday we could visit one of these places? Imagine how happy they’d be to see us land in one of their villages for a bite to eat. It would be the most excitement they’d get for years.”

Mistress Orellia laughed. “I guess I could take you some day. Who knows, your story might spread among the children.”

“Yeah,” Kellar said adding to the laughter. “They’d all go to neighboring villages and brag about the beautiful Elven girl that came from the sky.”

Shina blushed furiously. He called me beautiful!

“Well,” she said. “It would make a pretty exciting tale for the villagers. I think they’d be more interested in spreading the story of Kellar, though, the boy who—”

Shina trembled, her hands shaking, dropping the reins. She moaned, then tilted her head back and shrieked. Images flashed before her eyes, appearing and disappearing so fast she couldn’t discern them.

“What’s wrong!” Kellar shouted. “Mistress Orellia! Something’s wrong with Shina!”

The landscape changed, twisting, and fire and screams filled her mind. She joined, adding her own screams. Her head exploded in pain, and she shrieked even louder. What were these images? What was she seeing? She grabbed the sides of her head and howled in agony, twisting on her saddle. She twisted again, and began to fall. Pancake squawked in fear, seeing his beloved rider only moments from plunging off his back to her death.

Shina didn’t care, she was only distantly aware of her own impending death. More images exploded in her mind, and her screams increased in intensity. She felt Kellar’s powerful young arm around her, grabbing her for dear life, while in the corner of her eye she saw him assert control of the gryphon. All this, she noticed in a distant part of her. The real part, the one at the foremost place in her mind, was trapped in the hellish reality taking place behind her eyes. There was a village, not unlike the ones they’d been passing.

The children were screaming, dying, and begging for someone, anyone, to save them. Their parents cried in misery, forced to watch the slaughter of their young. There were men, maybe sixty or so of them, pinning down the women and committing unspeakable acts. They burned it to the ground—Shina could smell the disgusting reek of smoke and decay. Yet, there was another realization.

“TEN MINUTES!” she shrieked. She fought, feeling held down by something.

She shook her head, returning to reality. They were no longer flying. Kellar and Mistress Orellia held her down, telling her everything was okay. The two Gryphons watched, looking at each other and squawking in worry. She was lying in tall, soft grass. Deer and other animals ran at the sound of her frantic voice.

“I’m alright now! Let me go!”

“Easy now,” Orellia said. “What just happened to you?”

Shina sat up, the memory of her terrible vision etched in her mind. “I saw something.” Tears fell from her eyes. “Oh, Gods, but I saw something.”

Kellar grabbed her, pulling her into a hug. She was too shaken up to feel excited over the gesture. She only felt glad to have the boy in her life. She hugged him back. “Tell us,” he whispered.

Shina told them what she’d seen, trying her best to recount every grisly detail. “How can that be possible?” Orellia said. “You’re a sensor, not one gifted with the sight. Shina, are you certain this was not some dream?”

“Yes! It’s going to happen, and soon. There are these men, in black armor. I felt them, they’re emotions, I mean. They lust, they crave, they’re like animals, but only malicious. They’re something called a scouting party, and they’ve come to attack lightly defended villages. I don’t know how I know this, but, oh Gods, I swear to you it’s the truth. They’re going to kill the entire village, even the children.”

“No they’re not,” Kellar said. He let go of Shina, and stood to his feet. “I believe you, Shina.”

Orellia left her side as well, and dashed after Kellar, grabbing his arm. “Kellar, you must stop this instant! All alliances are forfeit for those in the Order. We do not get involved in wars, or battles. Quit thinking like a human, and more like a mage.”

“Mistress, with all due respect,” Kellar said. “Were they Elves, or Dwarves, it wouldn’t make a difference. Did you not hear what Shina said? In a few moments, innocent lives are going to be destroyed. You’re just gonna have us fly right by it?”

Orellia looked disturbed, she held out a warning finger, but there was no confidence behind the gesture. “You’re talking about using our Magic to…that’s for last resorts. We need to speak with the Order—we can’t just use Magic to…”

To kill, Shina thought. She knew her Mistress wouldn’t be able to bring herself to form the words. Nothing among Mages was taken as serious as the notion of killing using one’s Magic. Allowed only in the most extreme and pertinent situations.

Shina was back on her feet. “Mistress, there’s no time!” she shouted. “We’ve got maybe seconds to spare, or their deaths will be on us.”

Orellia trembled. “Are you certain of what you saw? Perhaps they simply loot and burn the village? It’s standard practice among bandits. They’ll send the villagers packing, and…”

“No,” Shina said. “These are no bandits. They’ll kill every last one of them. Mistress, please.”

“Damn, this is too sudden. We need to think, we need to plan! Five minutes ago we were flying through the sky without a care, and now you tell me this? What do you do?” she whispered. “What do you do, when there’s no good choice to be made?”

Kellar walked over to her. His boyish face had yet to fully develop into the one he’d wear later in life, yet right now he seemed older than them all. He took her hand, and held it to his heart. “You do what you feel in here.”

Orellia nodded. “When did you kids manage to grow up? Shina,” she said turning to face her, “have you ever killed a man before?”

“No.”

“Well, unless you want to start now, you’ll do everything I say. I have an idea.”

******

“Nora, fetch me some more water, sweetheart.”

“Okay, daddy!” Franklin watched in pride as his daughter ran off, kicking up dirt behind her tiny feet. She loved to help her father and mother tend to the crops. She was his treasure, his heart.

“She’s going to be taking care of us one day, dear,” Britta said. “Let’s just hope that day doesn’t come too soon.”

Franklin pulled in his wife for an affectionate kiss, making good use of the few seconds of alone time before their daughter returned with water. Tending the land was never easy, and he was grateful to have such a beautiful wife and daughter to help him. He wiped the sweat off his forehead, and looked around at the land his father had left for him.

Dad, he thought. I truly am grateful.

His daughter returned a few moments later, smiling, with a pail of water held in each arm. “Did I do good daddy?”

Franklin bent down, and ruffled her hair. “Of course you did. You always do, sweetheart.”

The sound of an approaching pair of horses caused him to turn. “Ah, Geoffrey, have you come to buy some potatoes? I’ve got some freshly grown right here, and I’ll even give you a discount. Say, fifty copper and one free meal at the inn?”

Geoffrey didn’t answer, and it took Franklin a moment to see the fear covering his face. “F-Franklin, B-Britta, we’re…we’re being invaded.”

The words didn’t register in Franklin’s mind, and judging by his wife’s blank stare, she didn’t seem fazed by them either. “Calm down,” Britta said. “What’s wrong, now?”

Geoffrey leapt from his horse, and grabbed Franklin’s shoulders. “Listen to me, damn you! We’re being invaded. There are sixty men on horseback, heading towards us as we speak.”

“T-that’s ridiculous! This is Kingdom land. Who would dare invade the land of our good Prince Patrick? He’d have their heads on a pike.”

Franklin refused to accept the man’s words—the idea of an invasion was ridiculous. Yet, Geoffrey had never been one to spin tales, and the look of fear in his eyes was far out of the ordinary for the man.

“I beg of you, friend. You must listen to me. They are real, and they are coming. I know what you’re thinking, that it must simply be Kingdom soldiers on some new kind of training regimen. No, I assure you this is not the case. They are coming, and they are coming now!”

“Daddy, what’s going on?”

“Nothing, sweetie, it’s alright.”

Franklin gathered his family and followed Geoffrey to the village square. There were always defense protocols set in place in the unlikely event of a bandit raid or invasion. Each and every month a Kingdom noble would appear to collect taxes, discuss any possible outbreak of disease or dangerous animals, and to ensure proper defense standards. In their humble village, the plan was very simple. In the event of any kind of danger, they were to gather at the square, and wait for the soldiers to diffuse the situation. There were only three or four stationed guards. No threat was ever expected to befall such a peaceful place.

Franklin looked around, and he could spot the terror on the faces of every man, woman, and child.

Please, he prayed. Let this be a false alarm.

There were screams, followed by the gurgling cries of death. Franklin recognized their voices. They were the few soldiers sworn to protect them. Every villager moaned, huddling together as sixty armed men clad in black armor swept through the village square and surrounded them. Franklin clutched his daughter to him for dear life, sobbing into his farmer’s shirt.

“Everyone just stay calm!” Franklin called out. “Just do as they ask, and I’m sure they’ll leave us in peace.”

The lead rider dismounted. He was a disfigured man, with scars covering every visible portion of his sickly-looking skin. “I be called Delatore, leader of this here band. Who be leading here?”

Franklin let go of his daughter, and stepped forward. They had no leader, but he was certain he could diffuse the situation. He’d make sure the other villagers gave up their valuables without a fight. The last thing Franklin wanted was for some pig-headed jewel-salesmen to get himself or others killed because of refusal to cooperate.

“I am, sir. I’d like to offer you and your men our unconditional surrender. Please, take what you’d like and leave us in peace.”

The rider, Delatore, looked at him. His face was disgusting, most of his teeth either yellow or missing. “Who be that girl? The one that be over there?”

Franklin looked to where he was pointing, and filled with alarm. “That is my daughter, sir.”

“I be wanting her,” he grinned, the disgusting stench of alcohol joining his words. “Give her here.”

“I-I’m afraid I don’t understand,” Franklin said. “Why do you want my daughter?”

“What are ye, a moron? For slave, of course. Ye be givin her here, ye will.”

With the man’s words, every last trace of fear, worry, and even the desire to surive, was instead replaced by a terrible rage. “I’d sooner die than give you my daughter!”

The man laughed. “Ye be dying either way, I just like it when daddy watches.”

Franklin couldn’t believe his words. He refused to accept what the man was saying. He mind tried to put together some rationalization, some explanation for all of this. Nothing in life had prepared his mind to cope with what he now faced. Before Franklin could utter another word, he was thrown to the ground. The villagers cried out, but none made a single move. They were paralyzed with fear. Even hearing they were to be slaughtered, they still chose to huddle together rather than fight back. Franklin didn’t blame them—they were as confused and frightened as he was.

“Daddy! Daddy! Why are these men grabbing me, Daddy!”

They dragged over his daughter, and Franklin struggled against the men pinning him down, filled with an overwhelming desire to protect his offspring. He screamed, fighting with every ounce of strength he had. He would not allow them to hurt her, no, they couldn’t!

“Hey there,” Delatore said, unsheathing his knife. “You looks like you be some fun. You screams I cut, get it?”

“GET YOUR HANDS OFF OF HER!” Franklin roared. He needed to stop this. He needed to protect his daughter. Britta tried to charge at the man, and she too was thrown to the ground, helpless to protect her child.

“Now, now, don’t be fighting.” The man ran a finger along Nora’s cheek, and then howled in agony as she bit down on his finger.

“Ahh!” he screamed. “Ye be dying for that one, missy. Ye be dying for sure.” Delatore grabbed her by the throat, lifting her off of the ground. She kicked, screamed, and struggled, but much like her parents, she was as helpless as the rest of them.

Delatore pulled back his knife, ready to strike. Franklin watched in horror as the most precious thing in the world to him was about to be destroyed. “Boss!” came a shout from behind.

The man turned, a look of annoyance crossing his grotesque features. “What ye be wanting? I be trying to have me some funs.”

“There’s something weird above us.”

Franklin looked up, along with the rest of the villagers, the black-armored soldiers following in suit. “What in the gods?” Franklin whispered.

Two humongous bird-like creatures soared over them. There were people on top of them, like the ones spoken about in children’s tales, the magical people that lived in the skies. Three people leapt from the animals, and Franklin’s heart felt like it would burst out of his chest. They were hundreds of feet in the air—surely they’d die!

As the three fell through the air, Franklin could make out their features. One was a young Elven girl, alongside an equally young human boy, his tunic flapping in the wind around him as he fell. The other was human woman, perhaps in her mid-thirties.

The three crashed into the center of the square. Rather than end up as a smear on the chalky-brown pavement, they landed like anvils, crashing into the ground with a loud boom, sending pieces of rock flying in every direction. There was a flux of lightning surrounding all three of them, forming a circular barrier around them, and sending waves of blue electricity scattering along the broken rocks and into the parts of the pavement still intact. The electricity surged along the road, stopping inches from the feet of the frightened soldiers.

Franklin was too confused to care who they were. All he wanted was his daughter, his little Nora.

“What in the Gods? Who do you be?” the man, Delatore, spat. He was still clutching Nora by the throat. She kicked and screamed, but the man paid it no mind.

The lightning ceased, and the young Elven girl stepped forward. There was a look of dark fury in her eyes. “My name, you ugly, disgusting, turd of a man, is Shina, and unless you wanna find out why they call me the ‘Lightning Goddess,’ you’ll let go of that girl.”

Delatore growled at her. “What ye be saying to me! After this sweet is no more, ye be next!”

There was a violent shaking, and it took Franklin a moment to realize that it was the Elven girl, Shina, trembling with anger. Each time she shook the ground rumbled along with her, causing more rocks to scatter. Perhaps she really was a Goddess!

She looked over to Franklin, and the two met eyes. “That girl, her name is Nora, isn’t it?”

Franklin nodded, far too flooded with terror and rage to feel any surprise. “Y-yes, Shina,” he answered.

The other two stepped forward. The boy’s face turned from bold to vengeful, and the older woman’s took on a similar look. “So, she was right, Kellar,” the woman said.

The boy called Kellar answered. “It’s Nora, just as she said it would be.”

Shina pointed a finger at Delatore. “I know what you were going to do!” she hissed.

“Ye think I be caring?”

“You will now. Mallos Salas!” Every villager gasped as a thick bolt of lightning left the girl’s fingertip, striking Delatore in his extended hand. He dropped the girl, and danced on his feet, crying out and flailing around his burned hand.

Franklin wasted no time. He didn’t know who the mage was, he didn’t know who the invading army was, either, but as his child fell to the ground, he dashed at her for all he was worth, clutching her in his arms.

Delatore’s hand was dark, and burnt to a crisp. He’d never be able to use it again. “KILL THEM!” he bellowed. “KILL THEM ALL!”

The villagers cried in terror as dozens of black-armored men drew bows, and began firing arrows into them. Franklin closed his eyes, not wishing to see the death of the men and women he had grown up with. Through the darkness he thought he could hear their screams, but they were off, something was odd about them. They weren’t the screams of death. Instead, they were shouts, filled with surprise and wonder.

Franklin opened his eyes, and shouted his own cry of surprise. The arrows were still being fired, yet rather than ending lives, they were instead bouncing off of a giant orange beam of light, transparent and invisible, except for when an arrow crashed into it. It continued to turn invisible, reappearing only when a soldier fired an arrow into it.

The human woman was responsible for it, it was obvious. She was standing in front of the villagers, each one of them huddling behind her. Her arms were crossed over her chest, and she continued to chant something indiscernible.

“Kellar!” Shina called. “What are you doing?”

The boy, Kellar, was walking to the soldiers, slowly, his hands empty. He mumbled a few words, something Franklin assumed to be magic. The pavement in front of him rumbled, and then exploded, rocks levitating in mid-air. It was spectacular, yet everything these people did transcended the ordinary. The rocks hung in the air for a moment, before twisting, reforming, and then fashioning themselves into a blade. Franklin held his breath, while he watched the transformation. What had been rocks, had changed into something else altogether. Now the boy brandished a real weapon, the bright blade glimmering in the sunlight.

“Shina,” he said. “After what you told me, I cannot let these men leave here alive. No good Drashian would allow that.”

So, he’s a Drashian? Franklin thought.

The Drashians were an honorable tribe of people that roamed mountainous areas, said to be among the strongest living humans. In recent times they’d developed somewhat of a bad reputation as some of them had gone into the slave-trading business. But as a whole, they were an honorable and noble people.

“We had a plan!” Shina yelled. “We agreed we would scare them away, and then leave.”

“Then they’ll just go to another village, and do the same things they were going to do here. Shina, turn around. I don’t want you to see this.”

“But Kellar, I—”

“Turn around, Shina!” the human woman commanded.

“Mistress Orellia, why are you allowing this?”

“Because he’s right. Shina, turn around, that’s an order.”

Kellar approached the men, standing before them without fear. Franklin had no doubt that he was a tough child, but he’d have to be crazy to think he could take on sixty armed men. “You’ve seen what we can do,” the boy said. “I’m sure you know what comes next.”

Delatore, still clutching his ruined hand, growled at Kellar. “Ye be dead, boy! Ye be dead. Kill em!”

“Remmos MAHR!”

There was a deafening explosion, followed by a blinding display of light. For a few terrifying moments Franklin became senseless, clutching his daughter while the blinding light filled his eyes and a painful ringing filled his ears. Screams of agony and pain rang out across the town. When the light faded, Franklin could make out the forms of about forty men, rolling on the ground trying to put out the flames that consumed them. The center of the square was an inferno, the smell of torched bodies overpowering all else.

In an instant, the boy had slain more than half of them. He charged at the rest. The men drew their weapons, rattled and confused, yet determined to live. They didn’t even have a chance.

Kellar danced around them with ease, dealing death each time his summoned weapon made contact. Each time he moved his powerful young arms, another limb would fly, or blood would spray from an open mouth.

One tried to decapitate him with an overhead swing. He dodged it as easily as the rest, returning his own horizontal slash, and cutting the man open, displaying his insides for his companions to witness. There was something off about the blade, too, something Franklin couldn’t grasp. It seemed that even if the blade barely made contact, something that should have resulted in nothing more than a scratch, it still resulted in a mortal wound. A gruff-looking soldier managed to narrowly dodge one of the boy’s attacks, something that at the most should have given him a nick on the cheek. Instead, Franklin had to jump back as the soldier's head rolled along the pavement next to him, leaving a streak of dark blood.

Magic is a fearsome thing, Franklin thought.

When the carnage had ended, and the village was colored red by the insides of the attacking soldiers, Franklin ran to his wife. He’d never know who the men were, or what they wanted. He’d never understand why the three mages had arrived, or who they were as well. But he’d always be grateful.

The mages spent the night, and the villagers showered them with gifts and thanks, offering their most prized possessions. The three mages accepted none of them, and when they flew off on their wondrous animals early the next morning, Franklin shed a tear. If not for them, his daughter and wife, the only things in the world that had ever, or would ever matter to him, would’ve been lost to him forever.