'Til Death Do Us Part
an excerpt

Cael’enne

The kurgan lunged at my throat, its sharp teeth bared in a grimace that should have terrified me if I hadn’t been wearing the heaviest plate that Derowen had to offer. Its fur, scarred with the imprints of its mate’s teeth, lay flat against its back, save for a small ridge of bristles along its back, which stood straight up like the knobs on a half-giant’s head. I had to smile as I brought my blade to bear on its skull, for the fool thing really believed it had a chance against me and the arrows flying from big brother’s and Father’s bows. Aye, it was a fool, for about ten of its companions lay bleeding on the ground before us, and the stench of their coppery blood filled the air around us.

Andarion’s arrow pierced its eye as I brought my blade down on its skull. The impact rattled me, for the foul beasts had thick skulls that no other beast could easily penetrate. But my blade did knock it flat and it slumped to the ground, its brains dripping in a grey and bloody mess from its wound.

“Kale, well done!” Dar called. “Your prowess astounds me, sister!”

“Aye,” Father said. “Every day, you grow more and more like Fia…” His voice trailed off into nothingness.

I slammed my blade into the last of the kurgan, tearing its heart from its chest in a huge gout of blood. It doused me before I had a chance to step back and my stomach lurched as the stench hit me. Poor Father! It had been five years since she died, and he still mourned her with the same grief that had almost slain him when he saw Ressa take her.

“Father,” I said, once I managed to step away from the carcasses around me. “Are you all right?”

The sorrow in his deep purple eyes bored into me like an awl but he forced a smile. “Aye, Kaya. The forests bloom in this beautiful afternoon. What more do I need, when I have those I love around me?”

I put the Shield of Azunai down gingerly and lay my blade atop it. The kurgan blood dripped from both in a steady stream and slowly was sucked into the dirt and leaves. For just a moment, I tried to imagine what the original Calennor Woods must have looked like before the cataclysm and the Vai’kesh magic corrupted it into festering foulness. It was in those years that Father first met and befriended Mother. Now, the forests had returned to a less sickly green and many of the trees that had been planted during Mother’s reign as Elder bloomed in bright pinks and blues.

It wasn’t easy moving in such heavy armor, but I managed to clank my arm around Father as best I could, the mythril scraping against Father’s light but sturdy Elven chain. He still wore the green and silver armor of the Estelath even as the need for the band he’d started after the cataclysm dwindled. We had slowly banished the kurgan to the furthest reaches of the woods, and the Vai’kesh were little enough threat these days. Unfortunately for Father, there was little enough in the way of battle to keep his mind busy and away from his loss.

“Kaya, I’m fine,” he said as I kissed his cheek. “Truly, daughter, there’s little need to worry for me.”

I snorted. “Aye, Father, there’s no need to worry when your eyes scream in pain every moment and threaten to slay me! Mother whispered to me once that you were a fool, and I see it every day from the moment I wake.”

“How can I miss her when her daughter has her tongue?” he asked, and his small smile this time was genuine. Rihael, in spirit more of my brother than Dar, told me once I shared that smile. I couldn’t help but be flattered, for Father’s smile was among the most beautiful I’d seen, and was the kindest I’d seen in all of the Edhel.

“Let’s skin these beasts and head home,” Dar said. In his voice was the strangest sort of impatience. “Niet’ta awaits.”

Ah, so that was the reason! I felt the familiar acid seep again through my veins. He’d spent but two hours hunting with us, and already he was through with his family! I wondered sometimes if Dar really was my brother, but the traces of Mother were so strong in his face that I couldn’t doubt his heritage for any more than the briefest second. Poor Father!

“It’s up to Father, Dar,” I said, trying to keep the anger out of my voice. By his wince, I could tell that I had failed.

“Aye,” he said, his eyes narrowed. And yet his voice didn’t hold the slightest note of apology! I bristled but said nothing as Father spoke.

“Stop it, Kaya. If Dar needs to return, we shouldn’t delay. Perhaps we might spare a round in the Arena instead.”

I groaned and picked up my blade. The Shield could wait as I gutted the beasts. It was then that my nostrils twitched at the hint of smoke in the air.

“Do you sense anything, Father?” Dar asked. “This moment feels strange to me, much like a dream I once had.”

“Nothing.”

“What dream?” I asked, and the bile burned deeper within me.

“Nothing,” he said. “It was just a glimpse and nothing more. I felt burning and saw flame…”

“The air reeks of smoke,” I said. The stench of blood was quickly replaced with the odor of an evening campfire.

Father sighed. “There haven’t been fires here since…”

I looked up and caught a brief glimpse of glowing red through the thin-trunked trees. “What?”

“Fire! We must warn the others!”

I picked up the Shield, and with my blade at the ready, I ran toward the Stronghold which lay just a few minutes hike through the woods. The glow intensified as I moved closer and closer to its source and brightened to a furious orange ripple that near burned my eyes out. I usually hated to wear heavier helms, but today, I wished for something that would shield my eyes. As I pulled closer, it seemed clear that whatever this thing was, it was no ordinary fire. In its wake, it left a trail of blackened earth behind it. The flames that sprouted from its flattened face didn’t spread in the afternoon breeze as they might were it a simple fire. Fire elemental, I thought, but rejected that thought soon after, for I’d seen the occasional tamed elemental in Aman’lu. Those creatures looked much like little men engulfed in flame.

This creature, for it was clear it must be a creature, seemed much like the walls of Kalrathia—broad and tall, and flat. Flames rippled over its surface and as I approached it, I noticed that in the middle of its vastness, a cavernous slit opened and closed, giving glimpses of deepest jet and pure emptiness. How it knew that I came near, I still cannot say, for though most of the races and beasts upon Aranna are blessed with some kind of sight, this creature had no discernable eyes. It seemed to glide forward over the leaves that littered the forest floor, but it lacked feet or a tail. Perhaps I should have been paralyzed with fear, but, instead, acid flowed through me and burned me much like the trees falling in the creature’s wake. To see Mother’s hard work destroyed so quickly inflamed me in ways I never would have imagined.

I raised my blade and called out, “For Xeria! Let’s destroy this thing!”

“For Xeria?” Father puffed behind me. “I must have been a fool to let you spend so much time in the Reaches!”

“Aye,” Dar said. “Every time you’d come back, you’d mutter, ‘Xeria’s eyes!’ and ‘By the Shield!’ Riha would spend hours trying to remind you how to speak properly again!”

“Human speech is perfectly proper, Dar,” I said. “You’ve spent too much time in too close proximity to a particularly traditional Elf, and you can’t remember your true heritage.”

I heard a suppressed half-laugh behind me, and I knew it was Father. “Aye, Dar, Fia would be most horrified by your words!”

To banter at a time when we faced something completely unknown might seem the very height of foolishness, but I found it eased my nerves and kept me focused on my blade. I hadn’t realized just how far we were from the creature until it finally nearly glided atop me. Its maw, truly, was closer to the length of six men and it was taller than the oldest trees in the forest, those that had not yet collapsed from corruption. Behind the curling flames that clothed it in a lurid orange, the creature was black, blacker than obsidian and shinier. It was flat, and it lacked the arms and legs and eyes that nearly all creatures had upon Aranna. Perhaps it had depth to it, but the blackness behind the flames seemed to eat all of the afternoon sunlight.

“By Istaura,” Father cursed. “What is that thing?” He didn’t wait for an answer before I saw one of his arrows fly close enough by my cheek that its small breeze tickled me.

I reached inside myself for the strange magic that Mother had taught me when I was in my teens and felt the ground shake in front of me as a fault line opened before me. The creature bellowed through its maw in a huge roar that made my stomach lurch and nearly felled me with its force. The fault usually stunned creatures that stumbled into it, but this thing, this beast of fire and stone barely seemed to notice. I brought the Shield to bear and hid behind it as best as I could while I waded in toward the thing with my blade poised. Dar’s arrow, imbued with every ounce of his strength, slammed into the creature’s open maw and it let loose with a jet of liquid fire that doused me and roasted me through my armor. But it did little enough damage. I slammed my blade into its maw and pulled down, trying to sever what I knew then was stone behind the flames, for the blade screeched and scraped with a horrid shriek.

“Kaya, are you all right?” Father called.

“Aye, worry not,” I said, and jammed my blade deeper into its jaw.

I chipped off an enormous chunk of rock that landed on my plate greaves with a clang. Fortunately, the mythril held firm, and I felt little more than a vibration in my gut. Father’s arrows and Dar’s arrows seemed to do little to slow the beast down—each arrow merely released a small spray of gravel. My blade seemed to do just a bit more damage, though many whacks and many slices did little to damage it. With a bellow, it let loose a stream of molten rock that seared my face though I ducked behind the Shield. If I hadn’t had the Shield, I might well have been lost. Ordinarily, it seemed no more than an typical shield—it protected as any other buckler might. The only hint it gave to its abilities was in the detailed engraving of the lion’s head surrounded by the four Azunite symbols: the Tree of Life, the Tree of Death, the Blind Eye and the Sighted Eye. However, it was only then, when I was surrounded on all sides by rivulets of boiling lava that the Shield finally gave a hint to the magic that the Agallans had forged into it. My armor had become so hot that I felt it burning through the leathers I wore underneath. But the Shield remained cool on my arm, and as I summoned my strength to deliver a massive blow, it sent waves of ice over me, cooling the armor that I thought would surely slay me.
Just as I poised to strike my blow inside the thing’s gaping maw, I felt the healing magic brew inside me. It burst out, a glowing ball of light that bounced over each of our heads.

“Pull back!” I yelled, and turned back toward Father and Dar. Both were covered in blisters and welts as they tried to dodge the streams of cooling lava that pooled about their feet. At least they had the good sense to follow me a few hundred feet.

“We can take it, Kale,” Dar said. “Worry not for me, little sister—there’s nothing wrong that a little potion won’t cure later!”

Father nodded in agreement and pulled out a small vial of potion that he began to drink.

“Will you both take some, then? And hurry!” The thing closed in on us faster than I would have thought possible, though I knew by now the small quake I’d summoned had faded away.

“Aye, mother,” Dar spat, but he finally obeyed as I whirled to face the thing again.

I summoned all of my strength into a blow that I hoped would shatter the creature’s maw, and perhaps its vile mind, if my blade could penetrate that far. Father’s arrow spiraled past me, and I knew that as it spun in the air, it gathered power to stun and to shatter its way through the beast. Alas, it only chipped a small spray of gravel from the creature, though the arrow cleared a hole through what would have been its eye, had the creature been like any others upon Aranna. The creature’s body seemed to be solid obsidian, and flames danced on the other side of the hole, mere inches away. How might one slay a beast of solid stone? But it mattered little, for I slammed my blade with all of the strength I could muster upward into its maw.

The creature bellowed again and spewed forth such a vast stream of lava that I thought I would surely drown in it. Father screamed and Dar groaned. The healing burst from me twice as the arrows flew out of me, but, alas, my mana drained out of me before I could even begin to heal our wounds.

“Water…” Father groaned. “We must lead it to the river…”

I slashed at the creature with my blade as the Shield gradually sent its cooling waves over me. Dar and Father, far less armored than I, ran toward the river, several hundred feet to the west of us. The beast seemed somehow to sense them leaving and belched a huge rope of lava at Father, missing Dar and me by several feet. Father screamed as the lava coiled around him and dripped through the gaps in his chain mail. The healing energy screamed within me, but I didn’t have the mana to let it free. I near swooned under its power, and my head spun from the lack of mana.

Aye, I nearly fell as I screamed, “Father, run! I’ll hold this thing!”

He tried to move his feet, for they twitched, but he fell before he could move. He gasped as his body slumped to the ground. I ran to him, screaming, “Father! Father!” over and over, like the bloodiest fool that had ever been seen on the face of Aranna.

“Kale, move!” Dar yelled. “You can help him once we’ve slain this thing!”

He was right, as he could be sometimes, even in all of his selfishness. Choking back a sob, I followed Dar through the woods as the creature drifted behind us, trees crashing to earth in its wake. I turned occasionally and slashed it with my blade, but luring was foolish, for the thing pursued us with a relentlessness I’d never seen in any creature, even the ferocious kurgan. Finally, I heard Dar splash behind me as I slammed my blade with all my strength into the creature’s maw, severing an enormous chunk of stone. I ducked as the stone nearly brained me, and the Shield sent out a huge repulsive wave at just the last second that shattered the stone into small fragments of dust.

“Kale, over here!” Dar called. I turned toward him to see him waist-deep in the shallow waters of the Sacred River.

“Aye!” I yelled, panting like a wounded Va’arth.

My heart sang in relief as the beast followed us into the river—Dar waded further and further back into the waters until the waters swirled like a dancer around his waist. Whatever the thing was, it clearly lacked intelligence, for as the waters hit its bottom edge, its flames sputtered and then died. It seemed not to notice as it was reduced to mere stone, and I set to hacking away at it with a vengeance. The fury burned in me as the lava had once burned me. I would avenge Father’s fall if it destroyed me! Behind me, Dar’s arrows flew faster and truer than they had during the hunt. He might well have been every bit as angry as I was, for he and Niet’ta spent every spare minute strolling in Mother’s replanted forests. The beast groaned and ejected more molten lava from its ever-larger mouth, but the rock solidified instantly when it hit the water. With its the fires out, the creature’s flesh fell away more quickly, and after slashing for what seemed centuries, I sighed as it fell, finally, in pieces to the ground.

The scorched leaves ground menacingly under my feet, and the scorched trees mocked me as I ran back to the place Father fell. He’d managed to scoot a few feet off of the burning path, but he lay on the earth, knocked out of his senses and burned nearly black. The healing cascade burst out of me almost without warning, and I groaned as the magic forced the spell gestures out of me. Father was so wounded, though, that the spell didn’t even bring him back to his senses. I cast again and again until he groaned and opened his eyes, his skin a somewhat healthier bright red. But with the mana gone, I couldn’t do anything but wait for him to speak. I sat next to him, cradling his head in my arms. My heart screamed and I couldn’t stop the tears that fell.

“Kaya...” he whispered, and his voice, burned to a crisp much like the rest of him, grated on my ears.

“Are you all right?” I asked and the tears that fell from my cheeks splashed onto his forehead.

“I love you, Kaya,” he whispered.

“Stay with me, please! I can heal you if you can just hold on!”

“Kaya, I see the shores, and I’m ready to go home... Give Dar my love.”

“Father...”

“Don’t, Kaya,” he said, his voice drifting to nothing. “It’s time for me to see Fia again...”

“No, Father! Please...”

“You remind me more and of her... Seek your adventure, Kaya, now that there’s nothing to hold you back... Be well and be loved,” he said and then he went limp in my arms, his gentle smile spread across his lips one last time.

“Father!” But he didn’t respond.

“Kale!” Dar yelled, “is he?”

The words choked me like a pair of hands wrapped around my neck. “Dar...” I said and I felt a wail burst out of me.

“You can resurrect him, can’t you?” Easygoing Dar’s voice filled with panic.

“Kale, bring him back!”

“I can’t,” I managed. “He’s gone... to the shining shores beyond... “

“You have the magic!” he screamed.

“I can’t, Dar. He left by his own will...”

“Kale, you must!”

“I can’t, even if I could give all of Mother’s gold to Istaura. Nothing can bring him back if he doesn’t wish to return...”

“By the Agallans, Kale!”

“He’s with Mother, and he seemed happy to leave, Dar. He was only here for us...”

“I refuse to believe that! Bring him back now! If you don’t, I have a scroll!”

“Dar...” He seemed almost mad, downright insane. And I was in no state myself to make him see reason.

He brought the scroll out, and unrolled it. I lay Father’s head down gently on the ground and rushed to restrain my grieving brother. I threw my arms about him and I felt him tremble in my arms. “He’s gone, Dar,” I whispered. “Now we just have each other...”

“No! I can’t accept that!” he yelled and threw my arms from him, knocking me over. The air rushed from my lungs as my rump hit the earth. “Damn you, Kale! May the Agallans take you!”

“Dar... I can heal you now...” I whispered.

“Heal Father, Kale!”

The ball of energy exploded from me, and I sighed as it bounced first from me then to Dar, spreading a soothing balm over our burns. Though Father had passed to the shores beyond, the ball still returned his flesh to its healthy pale olive. I swore then to Isteru, Istaura and all of the holy ones that I would do all in my power to ensure he received the greatest burial our people had yet seen. Dar, on the other hand, stared at me, his eyes blazing fire.

“Kale, you’re the most cold-hearted woman I’ve met,” he said. “I’m going home. Follow if you wish, but I care little.”

“Dar, wait!”

“No, Kale. You could have done something for him, but you chose not to. You’re a disgrace to the Edhel!”

“Dar!”

He stormed off, leaving me to move Father’s body to a place it might not be disturbed while I sought help. Aye, and he stormed off to his dear Niet’ta, who... Oy, what did it matter? Father was gone, and I didn’t even know why or how to avenge him properly! I lifted him, cradling him in my arms, and placed him precariously on a tree branch. Then I hefted the Shield and my blade and headed for the teleporter to take me to the Calennor Stronghold, battling the blackness that threatened to overwhelm me.