“In time, though, I reached a place in my
searching, in my listening, that was quiet. I had thought I’d
reached beyond the beyond, past where even the most far-flung of
spirits might wander… but then I heard it. A whispering voice, a
yearning will. It was seeking someone, anyone, to listen. I did not
understand the words, but night after night I sought it again. And
somehow without understanding, there came knowledge. I learned the
spell, the keyhole. It was so simple, so elegant, and yet so
profound in its power and brilliance. And with it came the promise
of more if only I could cast this first spell. I knew that
this
knowledge came from those who might help me finally
tend to the matter of my sister properly.
“The instructions were simple. First find a
place safe from those who might seek to break the spell. Someplace
no one would ever go on their own, yet a place strong with magic.
The Ancients were the natural choice, in the Dagger Gale Mountains.
It took me… oh… I imagine it was over a century to gather the
strength to finally open the keyhole. And the best place I could
find in Tressor was not nearly so potent, so it is taking ages
longer, but someone with your power, and your connection to the
D’Karon, could surely open it far more swiftly…”
Turiel trailed off, her eyes suddenly wide
with realization.
“You… you could
help
me.” The
necromancer was inspired, almost giddy with the prospect of joining
forces with Ivy.
“Perhaps… perhaps if you told me where the
keyhole was…”
“Tell you! If I had the strength to spare at
the moment I would just
take
you. Even
with
you, it
could take years, but I
know
together we could do it.”
“But if you could just tell me, perhaps we
could go together and… is something wrong?”
The joyful expression was slowly fading and
her eyes were drifting aside. She looked as though she’d heard a
curious sound and was trying to determine its source.
“That’s intense… a pinpoint of magic…” she
said vaguely. “And coming quite swiftly and quite directly.”
Ivy began to feel something as well. The air
had a tingle and a vitality to it. She realized that the sensation
was familiar, and at this moment she wasn’t certain if she was
relieved or panicked.
“Ether…” Ivy said.
“Ether… Ether. Mott, from where do we know
that name?”
Mott chittered and spiraled down the staff to
dart to the doorway.
“Yes,” Turiel said. “Yes, the
shapeshifter
we were told about.” She turned to Ivy and
narrowed her eyes. “Another one of the adversaries… Did you
lead
her here?”
“No. I assure you, I didn’t lead them here,
but when you use your magic to move from place to place, we can
detect it. That’s how I found you, and I promise, that’s how she
found you.”
“And what will she do when she gets
here?”
“She’s the one who destroyed this place to
begin with.”
Turiel’s chair thrust upward, and Ivy’s did
the same, standing them up and leaving them face to face. She
grasped her staff and glared at Ivy.
“And what will
you
do when she gets
here?” Turiel asked.
“I’ll help you. I’ll hold her at bay. I’ll
reason with her. I’ll do whatever you need me to do, but
only
if you tell me where the second keyhole is.”
The necromancer glared at her, stricken with
indecision. “I want desperately to believe you, but I do not know
how much of their treachery clings to your mind. … And I’m
concerned for the strength it may take to defend myself against a
foe strong enough to banish the D’Karon.”
Ivy clenched her fists and gritted her teeth.
Her heart was fluttering in her chest, and flares of blue were
beginning to mix with the violet light of the room.
“Then let me help you,” Ivy said.
The wind outside seemed to have reversed
itself, shifting from blowing behind the fort to rushing in through
its door. Turiel’s gray and black hair streamed and her tattered
robes billowed, but she gazed, unblinking.
“I need to know what you know. And you need
to know what I know. You’ve offered me the benefit of your
strength. I believe, if you are sincere, I have a solution for each
of us… But it will require trust.”
Ivy looked to the door. She could hear the
unnatural whistle of Ether’s windy form approaching. There was no
telling what Ether would do, but she very much doubted the
elemental would control herself, even if she knew that crucial
information could only be found in Turiel’s mind.
“If you feel you can trust me, then I can
trust you. But please, for both of our sakes,
hurry!
” Ivy
said.
“Then you have both my thanks and my
apologies. But rest assured that you
will
recover. I would
never damage so perfect a creature as you.”
Ivy held her breath, unsure of what to
expect. Mott galloped over to her and curled his tail around her,
chittering sweetly and rubbing his head on her in what felt
curiously like an emotional goodbye. Turiel gently placed her hand
on Ivy’s head…
In the same moment, there was everything and
there was nothing. She saw her life, what she could remember of it
and brief instants of the pieces she’d had stripped from her, fill
her mind. Mingled among the memories and visions were alien
thoughts and feelings, moments of another life. Moments of
Turiel’s
life.
The torrent of feelings, memories, and
emotions was almost enough to overcome her on its own, but as two
lives flashed before her eyes, a third sensation asserted itself.
She could feel her strength wicking away. Her eyes locked on those
of the necromancer, the room for once brilliantly lit by Ivy’s
icy-blue aura. Years were melting away from the woman. Black once
again whisked away the gray in her hair. Lines faded to smooth,
flawless skin. Fueled by the rush of energy spilling from Ivy, the
woman was restored from someone beginning to bend under the weight
of the years to someone in the prime of life.
Turiel’s hand lifted away, and Ivy felt the
room spin around her. She felt drained and drawn; her mind was
swimming. The assault had pushed her to the very brink of
unconsciousness, but as she stumbled back, Mott scuttled behind and
helped keep her on her feet while the renewed and invigorated
Turiel stepped toward her.
“I wish you a swift recovery, and know that
your strength will not go to waste,” Turiel said.
The necromancer tenderly kissed Ivy on the
forehead and lowered her gently to the floor. As the darkness
finally claimed her, she heard a few final words.
“Come, Mott. Quickly. Let us prepare you to
defend Mommy…”
#
Ether’s howling form roared down from above
and hung before the yawning door of the fort. The already potent
fury broiling her mind burned brighter as she saw a small army of
D’Karon design marching on clattering claws and scrabbling feet
back into the fortress. She drew her form together and sparked it
to flame, darting to the ground and charring the slowest of the
creatures into cinders. Through the door, barely visible in the
violet glow and the light spilling off from her own burning form,
twisted black and purple shapes clattered and crawled into an ever
larger mass. She streaked inside and set her brilliantly glowing
eyes on the sight before her.
Turiel stood in one corner of the room. She
held her staff high, its gem pouring indigo light and waves of
black. Like a conductor leading an orchestra through a spirited
symphony, she wove intricate patterns through the air. In the
center of the floor, the creatures that had until moments earlier
lain lifeless and awaiting orders at the end of the stone island
fed themselves into a chaotic swirl of lashing black tendrils. The
threads plucked away plates of shell and whole chitinous limbs,
joining them again into a form that was becoming familiar. It had a
long, serpentine body, spindly spider legs, and a sleek canine
head. The form was that of Mott, but crafted from scale, bone, and
armor plate. It was massive, barely small enough to coil in the
available space, and each detail was stouter and more vicious than
before.
“Ah… the elemental. They call you Ether, I am
told,” Turiel said, venom in her tone. “But to me you will only
ever be an adversary. Your name is meaningless.”
Ether ignored the woman’s words, narrowing
her eyes and gazing up at the patterns in the ceiling. The D’Karon
crystals were scattered there, and few things were more painful and
detrimental to her than those gems. The flakes were small, and
their hunger largely sated, so they did not feast on the
shapeshifter’s energies as larger stones might. Nevertheless, even
as they were, she could feel their presence like a thousand
needles.
“You’ll forgive me, Ether. I am only
just
peeling back the layers of what I’ve learned about you.
Since I’ve awoken I’ve been trying to pull together the edges of my
sanity into something resembling a whole. I’ve not had much
success.” She rubbed her temple. “It is beginning to become
bothersome. But mental infirmity is no excuse to abandon one’s
purpose.”
The flames of Ether’s form continued to
sizzle as her eyes shifted now to the motionless form huddled in
the corner behind Turiel. It was Ivy. She was sleeping, at least;
perhaps worse.
A renewed anger rushed through Ether.
Something inside her recoiled at the thought of something happening
to Ivy. It came almost as a surprise to her. The malthrope was a
liability, practically an abomination, and yet she felt nothing
less than raw fury at the thought of someone doing the beast any
harm. As much as she had despised Ivy in the past, they had been
through many battles together. The creature was
Chosen
, and
they were united in a cause. That, Ether told herself, was the
reason for these feelings.
“What have you done here?” Ether fumed.
“What have
I
done? If I have been
informed correctly,
you
are the one who desecrated this
place.
You
were the one to shatter the works of Demont the
Crafter. I’ve merely done what I could do to heal the damage you
caused.”
“… You are a creature of this world. Is it
true? Is it true that
you
brought the D’Karon here?”
“It is by leaps and bounds my greatest
achievement. And is it true that
you
are responsible for
banishing them again?”
“It is the whole of my purpose.”
Turiel clacked the point of her staff down to
the floor angrily. “Then it seems we each are destined to be at the
throat of the other. Because if you would chase away beings of such
wisdom and power, then you are nothing less than a demon.”
“You will release Ivy from your clutches. I
will not see her harmed while I mete out your punishment.”
The sorceress stepped closer to the sleeping
form of the malthrope like a protective mother staring down a
charging bear. “I
will not!
You’ve done enough, twisting
this poor defenseless child to your ways. Her mind is a tangle with
your lies. Leave her to me and
perhaps
she may be
salvaged.”
“If you know anything of what has happened in
this world, you know that you brought a terrible evil upon your
people and a blight upon your land. And you know that I and those
like me made short work of your beloved D’Karon.”
“Short work is a boastful claim. But yes.
I’ve learned much of what you’ve done. And I’ve learned much of
what was done to you. None of you are invincible, Ether. And I now
know your weaknesses.”
Turiel raised her staff and knocked its head
to the ceiling. The fragments of crystal she’d embedded there
drifted down like fireflies disturbed from the branches of a tree.
In rapid succession the points of light drove themselves into the
hide of Mott’s latest form. Curving, precise patterns of crystal
studs traced themselves out on Mott’s tail, the clawed pincers of
his many legs, the horny ridge of his forehead, and along his black
daggers of teeth. What remained of the gems drew stripes along the
rest of his tail and armor. In essence, Turiel had armed her
creation with the one weapon that might truly sting Ether.
“This does not need to occur,
adversary
. I will permit you to leave this place. I
urge
you to leave. It is never too late for a creature to
learn the error of its ways, and enough damage has been—” Turiel
began, her voice steady, reasonable, almost
pleading.
She did not reach the end of her thought
before Ether burst toward her, columns of flame billowing behind
her.
Mott was swift, swiping his tail with great
force and greater precision. It swept through the air, demolishing
the support beams in its way, and clipped Ether a split second
before she could lay a searing finger upon Turiel. A purely
physical attack would have been of little use against Ether’s
flaming form, but the gem studs raked at her like thorns, driving
her back.
Ether cried out in pain and flitted back to
safety, but the sheer size of Mott’s new form left no place within
the now-cramped interior that the monster couldn’t reach her. He
released what would have been a gleeful chitter at his natural
size. Scaled to his new form, it was a rumbling roar that seemed to
come from the very bowels of the underworld.
Though the giant thing moved with greater
speed and precision than one would have thought possible, it was
still no match for Ether. She drove her body forward, dropping low
and facing upward as she skimmed across the ground. Her upraised
hands burned deep, smoldering furrows across Mott’s armored
underside. It was almost wholly without the protection of gems, and
the deep gashes prompted an otherworldly howl of anger and
pain.