"What Maki Remembered When She Looked into the Portal" | Maki
Pale’s Time: A Week Ago
Ashnuw’s Time: 15 Years Ago
Vyta’s wails wrenched through the cavern, like a young child in her death throws. She glowed white, trembling as Pale slowly withdrew the sword from her husband’s heart.
King Espero of Pura fell to the stained rock floor, dead as stone.
Pale then turned to Vyta, and the blue Viridian female who gasped, kneeling in her own blood, her wings spread out as if trying to put some barrier between her queen and the monster before them. Her fire had already been spent. The bravest and truest of the royal family’s friends, Elfe and Animaloid and Human, also crouched around the edges of the cavern, unable to move from their wounds and the pale warriors standing over them.
Pale lifted his sword to Vyta and held it there.
The queen wept, her silver eyes shining like a million diamonds. Her long purple-red hair fell into her face as she bowed her head.
The Viridian managed to rise, pushing back against the queen. Hot tears poured down her cheeks and when she spoke her words came out as a roar.
“We die today only by the will of Elyon, even here, in your world, even here we die under His name and by His wish—”
Pale raised his hand slowly.
Unseen energy surged at the two, pinning them against the cavern walls. It stole their breath. Around the room, their compatriots shouted in grief.
“—You will not die today. Only those who I will can die in my land.” Pale said, though his mouth did not move. He lowered his hand.
The Viridian fell to her face and Queen Vyta dropped to her knees. She wrapped her arms around her friend and buried her head against the dragon warrior’s dark indigo hair.
“You all are my children…” Pale murmured… he gestured back to the King. “Only, not this one. Not anymore.” He pointed towards the group of Pale warriors gathered around the room.
One, Lord Gall, the Pale Lord set over their region, hurried forward eagerly. He grabbed Vyta by her arm and dragged her across the room. The Viridian, lunged forward, but several pale warriors fell on her. She fell back with a strangled cry, unable to rise.
The Elfe Queen stumbled to her human husband. She ran her small white hands over his weathered dark skin and the thick brown dreadlocks. She closed his eyes, a small keening sound escaping her. She began to glow brighter.
Pale nodded at Lord Gall. “Do not ask me for assistance again. I go to bring all of Ashnuw, all of my children, here.”
Lord Gall bowed illustriously at once. “I am ever grateful, wonderful Master, it shall be as you have requested. I will keep your children occupied and grateful and one by one they will bow to you in true love and devotion. I will do all in my power to bend their wills and pry this presence of their false God from their souls. With their King dead now, surely much of their resistance will crumble.”
“Nevir,” spat an Animaloid across the room, a red ferret who was being held down by two warriors. One of them kicked him in the ribs.
The Viridian hissed the same word under her breath, barely conscious.
Pale lifted a hand to Lord Gall, then he turned. In a blink of an eye, he vanished from sight.
Lord Gall hissed at Queen Vyta. He hefted her up again and began to take her out of the cavern room and down into the tunnels. She looked back over her shoulder, sobbing.
“We will keep them under guard and give them access to healers so they can comprehend.” he shouted back to his warriors. “They will recant and devote themselves to Pale, as we have. No longer will we fear raids on our armories and sabotage to our strongholds. All the rebels of Pura are now our loyal compatriots—or our slaves—for once and for all.”
Dim lights flickered through the cavern cell. Queen Vyta lay motionless on a single blanket on the ground in the corner of the room. She was unchained, the chains in her now-grey eyes doing more to hold her down than any physical bond could. A young Elfe child tended to her nearby, wringing out sweat laden rags and preparing poultices, none of which had any true power in them. For the plants of Pale’s world were nothing compared to the plants of their home world. Celynia knelt before her Queen, barely able to repress her grief. Her body burned with inner fire, like rust eating her from the inside out. She had been relieved from her cramped cell. The Queen had asked for her. She must have asked for her often, for the guards had finally relented and allowed the dragon being to come. The chain around Celynia’s neck now ran to the wall of the Queen’s cell, her wrists and wings were secured behind her, and sharp fire quenchers had been gouged into the fire channels in her forehead. It was nothing to her though. They had been trying to make the Queen recant for four days now. It was apparent from the paleness of the queen skin and the dimness of her light and the greyness of her eyes and garb, that the interrogations were taking their toll. “I’m glad you are here, Celynia,” the Elfe Queen murmured. She raised her hand and pressed her cold fingers against the dragon’s wingtip. “I…I wanted to say for once and for all…” “Do not, my queen,” Celynia ordered, her voice firm. “You must hold fast. It matters not what our fate is. It matters not that our king has met it first.” Hot tears shone in her moon-blue eyes. “We must remember the truth. Elyon, we still belong to him even here, the King himself would say so, my lady.” “My heart is broken, Celynia,” Queen Vyta whispered back. Her voice was young and faint, like that of a small child. “I am sorry…” Celynia again felt the throbbing pain in her own soul. She held back the keening roar that surged through her and bowed her head. Was her heart not also broken? “Thank you for carrying me,” Queen Vyta said. “For your strength, my very faithful friend. But you will have to let me down now…” Her breath was so faint. “My Espero calls me. I may not be allowed by our captor to join him in body…but I will join him in spirit.” “Our king, Espero, is in a land of pure life and perfect fulfillment, my lady,” Celynia said. “Should you join him, your eyes would glow like the stars.” Vyta hesitated. She dropped her hand. “No…” she said simply. “…there are…no stars in this world….” And with that, she turned her back on Celynia and buried her face against the wall. The Viridian did not move. The tears spilled down her cheeks. They steamed when they hit the floor. Celynia bowed her forehead to the dust, unable to speak. Scars shown on her arms and shoulder and neck and wings from the raids and the battles Lord Gall had hurled on them ever since they had first been sucked unwillingly to his world seven years ago. She began to cry with her heart to Elyon. As she had many times, believing with all her might that He could hear her in this accursed dimension. She begged, though she could form no words. The young Elfe working nearby cleared her throat. “I’ll…get some food for the queen,” she muttered quickly, rising to her feet. The child hurried out of the cave cell, past the single guard standing at grate. He let her go. Lord Gall’s people were lax. They always had been. Pale was busy with great plans to take all of Ashnuw to his realm and the pale warriors were eager to fight with him in this endeavor… not to be left behind to babysit Pale’s “children” of Pura. The guard glanced back at Celynia’s bent form. He was tall and his black eyes shone unnaturally against his grey skin. “Are you bowing to the queen or to your long lost Elyon?” Celynia did not respond to him. “He is not strong enough to sustain you here.” He said simply. “It will soon be your turn, and you will recant.” Amusement rang in his tone. Celynia did not lift her head. “He is strong enough, or there is nothing,” Celynia murmured. “There’s nothing then, snake. You know they allowed you to come here so the queen could see you before they torture you in front of her. They know she is fond of you. Maybe they will give you mercy if you recant quickly. After all, your race belongs to Pale from the beginning and you know it.” The fire channels in Celynia’s skull panged as they tried to make fire but were unable to. She still did not move. “We destroyed those of us who served him,” Celynia hissed. “It was before my time—” “I sense…” the guard hissed. His beady eyes seemed to smile at her. “The shame that your race carries…you know you are cursed, you know your service will be worthless when you perish and look into Elyon’s eyes, and when he smells the black, power-lusting snake blood in your veins—” the guard paused. “…wait.” The guard paused. He hesitated for a moment, and to Celynia’s surprise, she heard him leave the room. Silence. Merciful silence. She breathed hard. She did not know how long she lay prostrate, ignoring how the pressure on the fire quenchers burned her skull. The pain soothed her somehow, as if it could cleanse the evil from her. Yes, she was of an accursed race and that shamed her, but her fear and doubt in Elyon shamed her even further. Her Lord Espero had had golden eyes full of trust, like a child. Many times had he stopped, even in the midst of pressing duties, and had looked into her eyes, and had reminded her of the truth. The truth of Elyon’s kindness and mercy and how He could pay justice and redeem the fallen at the same time. “Lady Celynia?” The voice was small, but unafraid. Celynia lifted her head and raised her gaze. The young Elfe had returned. She stood in the entrance of the cavern room, her eyes flickering. Back in her own land of Alte Rynn, she would have been a creature full of life, but here, in Pale’s dimension, she was separated from her tree and the very air and magnetism of Ashnuw that fed Elfe vigor. She was pale and thin. Her mop of unruly red hair was disheveled and dim. Dark circles shown under her eyes. “Lady Celynia,” she said. Her voice was tired, but she tried to sound upbeat. “I have some water and cake.” She produced a large slice of iced brown ginger cake from a basket and lifted it in triumph, forcing a crooked little grin. Celynia allowed herself a small smile. “Thank you, Eolimakialial.” Only a few months ago she and a few of the royal guard had raided another of Pale’s army smiths. They had found the Elfe kept as a slave there, lighting the smith fires and working the bellows. Many, many of Pura had been taken prisoner over their last seven years of desperate survival in Pale’s dimension. Only the few who had found shelter underground with the King and Queen had still been somewhat free. Until now. Celynia had destroyed the smith, injured the enemy as close to death as she could in Pale’s world, and carried the young Elfe back. Eolimakialial they called her, “Flame of the Forest” in the common tongue. “I will not eat or drink now, but see the queen does.” Celynia said. “…You…might…live longer to be there for the queen if you at least drink,” the Elfe child said. She began munching on the cake herself. Celynia’s shoulders heaved. She shook her head. “I cannot.” Eolimakialial paused, then scrambled into the room with the nimbleness that characterized her people. “Hold still, Lady Celynia.” She took ahold of the fire quenchers embedded in the dragon’s skull. She pulled them free. Celynia’ closed her eyes against the pain. When she opened them, the Elfe child was wiping blood droplets off the fire quencher needles. She then dropped the helm and stepped on it with her calloused bare feet. “That’s better.” Celynia could not hold back another small smile. “How are the others?” she asked. Eolimakialial dropped lightly down onto the ground in front of her. “Only the royal guard are in chains, like you. Most of us are just grouped together. They tried to keep us sitting down for awhile, but then they got tired of it. They let us make food and take it to everyone. They say we’re to head out in three days to recant,” she shivered a little. “The guards talk about Pale all the time, and I just stick my fingers in my ears and stay quiet. I set one of the warriors pants on fire and he didn’t notice until another saw the fire and saw me laughing. They slapped me up pretty good after that, but that’s all.” Celynia listened intently, her moon-blue eyes filling with a sad fondness. Eolimakialial continued. “Yesterday they happened to grab me and just told me I was to tend to the queen.” She looked down at Queen Vyta, still lying unresponsive with her face to the wall. “She’s been…not well…I know she can’t die unless Pale allows it…but I think she…and most of us…would wish he would just get this all over with and kill us anyway.” Celynia did not respond. Back when they had first arrive in Pale’s dimension, a few had tried to commit suicide without success. Eolimakialial leaned forward. “I was able to get to the tunnel in the back pantry to get fresh air. It was so stuffy, I had to get out for a bit. I don’t think anyone even noticed I was missing…I think if I had more energy I could light a fire to burn a bigger hole and I could sneak the Queen out.” Celynia’s eyes sharpened. “The tunnel…in the back pantry? I thought it had caved in.” Footsteps sounded down the hall. Eolimakialial’s eyes grew wide with fear. “What’s this?” the pale guard sniffed. He stood in the entrance. Eolimakialial spun around, stuffing the cake into her back pocket. “Just delivering water and food, sir.” “Get out of here, you’re not needed anymore today,” the guard hissed, obviously annoyed that they had been talking in his absence. Eolimakialial hurried. She cast a quick glance over her shoulder and winked at Celynia. Then she snatched up her buckets and baskets and drudged on down the hall. The guard gave her a swift kick as she past, but she dodged it and broke into a trot. Celynia watched her leave, her mind at work…there was more than simply an opening to the surface of Pale’s dimension down that tunnel…and she knew it had been closed. Someone must have been trying to reopen— The guard was just about to open his mouth to speak when two black arrows whizzed into his trachea. His eyes grew round. He clutched at his neck and dropped to his knees. Something from the shadows shot up behind him, tackled him to the ground and buried a dagger in his back. The figure whipped upright. It was the red ferret. He dashed through the cavern room opening and mock bowed to the Viridian, strands of red head fur falling into his green eyes. Cashel, Rogue of the royal guard. “It’s taken you long enough,” Celynia stated simply. Eolimakialial skidded back around the corner of the room, her eyes wide with shock. She looked down at the unconscious guard, then back at Cashel. “Are we escaping?” she hissed. “That we are,” he said shortly. “Sirry fir not comin’ sooner,” the ferret dashed behind Celynia and began working on her neck ring at once. His wrists were matted with blood. “I tried sevir’l times. We’re goin’ t’have t’be fast.” “Very fast, Cashel,” another voice snapped. A precise, fine-tuned voice. A white fox took her place at the entrance of the cell, clothed in a red hood and cloak. She clutched a strung bow, guarding the hall. Holland, Ranger of the royal guard. “I hear shouting. Andran can only hold them off for ten minutes at best.” Cashel pried at the lock with a pin he had pulled from his hair. “We’ll give ‘em a good chase, Holland.” He pulled the neck ring off and dropped to his knees to work on the bands around Celynia’s wrists and wings. “Celin’a, if there’s evir a time fir us t’send someone through the portal, ‘tis now, before we are dragged away from the keep—” Holland made a sudden jerk and loosed her bow. Far down the halls something thudded. “King Espero allowed it to be covered again for a reason,” Celynia said. “It is unknown, he fears travelling through could kill the traveler—we don’t even know for certain it leads back to Ashnuw.” “It may be unknown, m’lady,” Holland said, taking a quick moment to turn towards them. Her black eyes glinted in the dark. “But we are willing to face the unknown if it means stopping Pale from enslaving any more kingdoms like he has ours. Should we die in the travel, death would be preferable to being eternally tortured and unable to die here.” Celynia did not respond. The bonds on her hands broke free. She stood up, flexing her fingers. “I will take Vyta,” she said quickly, picking up Vyta. “Gira should be blasting through the barrier now.” Cashel easily unclasped both of Celynia’s wing restraints. “Now, let’s run.” Celynia, carrying Vyta, followed out of the chamber and down the hall, Holland watching their back. Shouts came from the far end of the hall and the fox hissed, losing several arrows in quick succession. “Make haste!” she commanded as a black arrow of pale embedded in the dirt at Celynia’s tail. The pale warriors rounded the corner. Behind them all, little Eolimakialial followed, running as fast as she could. Her eyes were wide with disbelief. “A portal?” she finally managed to blurt out. “All this time—we had a portal--!?”
They ran down the tunnels of their occupied stronghold. Cashel took the front, Holland took the rear, they all pressed further into the dark. They took the side tunnels, the ones that and led down to the pantries and doubled behind the main cavern halls, where the majority of the prisoners and guards were. Even there, pale warriors roamed, but Cashel quickly found them first. They made it to the pantry. Cashel struggled to push back a tower of crates and Eolimakialial yanked out a pile of old rags stuffed in a hole in the wall. Then they all got down on their hands and knees and began to push through, Holland carefully replacing the crates behind them. Celynia hissed, her wings scraping against the top of the small space. She adjusted her hold on the queen and pressed on. A chorus of raging shouts suddenly rang in the pantry. The crates toppled. They had been followed and there were a lot of them. Holland spun about on her knees in the tunnel, without a word, and emptied her quiver on the ground. Celynia froze for a moment. “Twenty six arrows, Celynia,” the fox declared sharply, knocking her bow once again. The first face of a pale warrior appeared in the opening to the pantry. Holland loosed the arrow with a deadly whistle. All of the royal guard, though comrades, put the safety of their King, their Queen and their kingdom above all else. Even each other. That was the life they had chosen. That was completely understood amongst them. Celynia crawled faster, leaving the fox behind and pushing Eolimakialial forward. There was a light up ahead. The smell of smoke. The sound of rocks grinding. “Gira!” Cashel cried. An Elfe appeared at the end of the tunnel. Gira, the only Elfe who still had enough power to sometimes set off an explosion the size of a decent bomb. Though he looked far from being able to do so now. He was thin, white, wiry. His brown-green hair fell in dreadlocks and tangled s___ around his face. He was panting hard, almost unconscious, looking more haggard than usual. “I’ve almost blown through to the portal chamber,” he cried. “It is just behind these rocks.” Vyta coughed on the smoke. She lifted her head from where she was still clasped in Celynia’s arms, coming to. “Almos’?” Cashel gasped. His eyes flickered in realization. “…I just…need another twenty minutes to recharge—a little—then, I think I can have another go,” he gasped. “Twenty minutes is impossible, Gira,” Celynia said. The fatedness hung in her tone. “Holland can only hold them off for ten at the most.” Eolimakialial looked back at the way they had just come. They could hear Holland’s shouts. “The portal…” Vyta whispered. Her eyes began to flicker with light. Celynia adjusted her hold on the queen. “It’s our only hope, Vyta…ours as well as Ashnuw’s.” “…yes,” Vyta said. She was thinking. “There is a hole this big,” Gira held out his hands about a foot length. His fingers shook. “And the hole to the surface is clear—perhaps we—perhaps we could come back for the portal—” “No,” Celynia’s voice quickened. “Now that they have found this tunnel, they will find the hold as well. When they discover the portal, they will destroy it, or guard it with utmost care, or seal it off completely...” “I still can’t believe we’ve had a portal all this time,” Eolimakialial murmured. “Why didn’t we use it years ago?” “The king said nae,” Cashel muttered, obviously irritated. He’d always been cheekier than his station allowed for. “So many died when we were brought here…” Celynia murmured. “Espero hoped there was another way, a way that may not end in death...” “—But we don’t know for sure if it will kill anyone!” Eolimakialial piped up, her bright eyes flashing. Holland’s shouts turned to a howl. Then a scream. Without a word, Cashel pushed past them, back towards the tunnel. Gira snatched his arm. “Cashel—” Cashel shouted back, easily breaking free of his hold and charging down to the tunnel. “You’re too weak and Celynia must stay with the queen!” Pain registered in Celynia’s eyes. Gira looked on the verge of panicking. Eolikalialial swallowed. Celynia scrambled past them to the small hole in the tunnel that led to the portal. She set down Vyta, braced her legs against the rock and pushed with all her might. She curled her hands into fists, she grit her jaw. A roar escaped her— Then she stopped. She stared at the rock. Immovable. Like him. He was only feet away from her, out of reach, in the next room. Through a portal. Tears filled her eyes once again, as the truth registered in her heart. “Vyta is too weak to pass through the portal,” Celynia said. “There is too great a chance that it would kill her. And we have no time. I will take her to the surface and fly her to safety and from there we will rescue as many as we can. We must leave the portal for good—” at this, she swallowed, unable to speak. Vyta lifted her hand and pressed it against Celynia’s shoulder. “Wait.” Gira, lying prostrate on the ground in sorrow, lifted his head. Celynia swallowed back her tears. Eolimakialial stared from where she crouched, her arms wrapped around her knees. Vyta was glowing a little more. She turned her head and faced the Elfe child. Queen and waif met each other’s eyes. With effort, the Queen sat up, her child-like face growing peaceful. “Will you go, Eolimakialial?” Everyone held their breath. The child Elfe’s eyes widened in shock. Then wonder. Gira gasped in understanding. “She is so small, a nobody!--they wouldn’t even notice her missing. If one of us escaped, they would know for certain—Pale could even be alerted.” Eolimakialial still did not speak. “I cannot guarantee your life…” Vyta said, her voice soft. But her gaze never wavered. “But death is not to be feared.” Eolimakialial swallowed. Then nodded hard. “I’ll go,” she said. Queen Vyta raised her hand. She pressed it against the child’s forehead, taking a deep breath. “Go to all the kingdoms of Ashnuw and tell them what Pale is planning to do. Tell them what he has done to us. And if by some miracle, you can find the means to free us…” tears glistened in the queen’s silver eyes. She did not finish. “Do so. So that my servants can live. So that I can die.” Vyta’s glow increased. It wrapped around the small Elfe’s body, engulfing the two of them. Gira breathed in deeply, watching with reverent happiness. Celynia bowed her head, averting her gaze respectfully. The queen was whispering. Words in their native language, ancient tree words. Eolimakialial’s eyes glowed with hope. Her small shoulders sagged in peace. “…remember Elyon’s truth with all your might. You have spent years in slavery here and in the innocence and indulgence of youth back on Alte Rynn.” The Queen said. “You have not yet tasted His goodness for yourself…only heard of it. You must meet him for yourself, child, or else your heart will falter. Though I hope this testimony I have given you will come back to your memory when you need to be reminded most.” Eolimakialial smiled at the Queen, as if dazed. She hugged her. Then she scrambled past the queen, like a little spider, and hugged Celynia and Gira as well. “Hurry, hurry, Eolimakialial,” Gira urged. Celynia snatched the child’s hand. She pressed a small hard object into it. When she spoke, her voice was so tight it sounded like a whisper. “When you land, find a Viridian, like me, but with iron dark scales and night black hair. His name is Xkoll and he will do all in his power to assist you. Give him this and tell him his king is dead.” Eolimakialial uncurled her hand. It was a ring with a stone blue moon set at its center, encased in silver wire and strung with diamonds, like stars. The sound of battle was just around the bend. “Hurry, child.” Gira urged. Celynia once again took Vyta. Eolimakialial began to scoot through the hole into the chamber next door. “Tell him I’m alive!” Celynia cried as she began to crawl further down the tunnel. “Tell him—!” She did not finish. She hurried on, towards the surface, towards freedom…or at least…the closest to freedom they could have in that world.
The young Elfe stepped down into the portal chamber. It was dark except for a whirring grey light, like a miniature whirlpool, on the roof of the cave. The air in the cave was alive. Eolimakialial took a deep, deep breath. Her eyes lit up. Color returned to her skin and hair and eyes. She could smell Ashnuw. She could smell her tree. She began to make her way beneath the portal. Wind whipped her hair about her face. She looked up. She smiled. In the midst of the whirl pool, she could see a sky. Not grey, but blue. Just like she remembered. Eolimakialial could hear Cashel’s cries. Gira would soon be overwhelmed as well. They were doing their duty. It was much harder than hers, she thought. But then again, if she failed. It would be hard for her and them and everyone. She could still feel some of the Queen’s glow in her veins. Even before this moment, for the short time she had been there after her rescue, the King and Queen had treated her with love and honor. Even though she was just who Gira had said she was…a nobody. They didn’t even know which of their people’s love had brought her tree to life. But that had not changed anything. The King and Queen had treated all their subjects like valued souls in Elyon’s name. Both the testimony the Queen had pressed on her only moments before, and the kindness Eolimakialial had been given…the kindness that had made her feel warm and had made her hope linger…these were the only two reasons she believed Elyon might still be with them. Eolimakialial raised her hand to the portal. She closed her eyes, and clenched her fingers into a fist. With a gasp, she felt it catch her. It began to tear her into pieces, just like the first time they had all been sucked out of Pura and thrown into Pale’s dimension ten years ago. She screamed. Begging to live…
It had been 700 years. 700 years since the Kingdom of Pura and everyone in it had disappeared overnight, leaving nothing but shattered ruins. On the surface of Alte Rynn, a tall black Viridian walked among the trees. He stopped short and caught his breath, his golden eyes flashing. He fell to his knees over the small body of the Elfe girl curled up in the grass and scooped her up against his chest. He held her close, listening to her breathe, his pupils contracted to slits. The child’s hand uncurled. An object fell from it. He stared at it in the dirt. Its shape registered in his mind as if it he had seen it yesterday, the image tearing great stab holes into his heart. He snatched up Celynia’s ring. He looked back at the child. She stirred, catching her breath. “My…head…” she murmured… “I…need to tell them…” Xkoll waited, his entire being clutching to her words. “Speak, Elfe,” he whispered. “Speak…” “I…I can’t…” she winced. “I can’t remember.”
Dim lights flickered through the cavern cell. Queen Vyta lay motionless on a single blanket on the ground in the corner of the room. She was unchained, the chains in her now-grey eyes doing more to hold her down than any physical bond could. A young Elfe child tended to her nearby, wringing out sweat laden rags and preparing poultices, none of which had any true power in them. For the plants of Pale’s world were nothing compared to the plants of their home world. Celynia knelt before her Queen, barely able to repress her grief. Her body burned with inner fire, like rust eating her from the inside out. She had been relieved from her cramped cell. The Queen had asked for her. She must have asked for her often, for the guards had finally relented and allowed the dragon being to come. The chain around Celynia’s neck now ran to the wall of the Queen’s cell, her wrists and wings were secured behind her, and sharp fire quenchers had been gouged into the fire channels in her forehead. It was nothing to her though. They had been trying to make the Queen recant for four days now. It was apparent from the paleness of the queen skin and the dimness of her light and the greyness of her eyes and garb, that the interrogations were taking their toll. “I’m glad you are here, Celynia,” the Elfe Queen murmured. She raised her hand and pressed her cold fingers against the dragon’s wingtip. “I…I wanted to say for once and for all…” “Do not, my queen,” Celynia ordered, her voice firm. “You must hold fast. It matters not what our fate is. It matters not that our king has met it first.” Hot tears shone in her moon-blue eyes. “We must remember the truth. Elyon, we still belong to him even here, the King himself would say so, my lady.” “My heart is broken, Celynia,” Queen Vyta whispered back. Her voice was young and faint, like that of a small child. “I am sorry…” Celynia again felt the throbbing pain in her own soul. She held back the keening roar that surged through her and bowed her head. Was her heart not also broken? “Thank you for carrying me,” Queen Vyta said. “For your strength, my very faithful friend. But you will have to let me down now…” Her breath was so faint. “My Espero calls me. I may not be allowed by our captor to join him in body…but I will join him in spirit.” “Our king, Espero, is in a land of pure life and perfect fulfillment, my lady,” Celynia said. “Should you join him, your eyes would glow like the stars.” Vyta hesitated. She dropped her hand. “No…” she said simply. “…there are…no stars in this world….” And with that, she turned her back on Celynia and buried her face against the wall. The Viridian did not move. The tears spilled down her cheeks. They steamed when they hit the floor. Celynia bowed her forehead to the dust, unable to speak. Scars shown on her arms and shoulder and neck and wings from the raids and the battles Lord Gall had hurled on them ever since they had first been sucked unwillingly to his world seven years ago. She began to cry with her heart to Elyon. As she had many times, believing with all her might that He could hear her in this accursed dimension. She begged, though she could form no words. The young Elfe working nearby cleared her throat. “I’ll…get some food for the queen,” she muttered quickly, rising to her feet. The child hurried out of the cave cell, past the single guard standing at grate. He let her go. Lord Gall’s people were lax. They always had been. Pale was busy with great plans to take all of Ashnuw to his realm and the pale warriors were eager to fight with him in this endeavor… not to be left behind to babysit Pale’s “children” of Pura. The guard glanced back at Celynia’s bent form. He was tall and his black eyes shone unnaturally against his grey skin. “Are you bowing to the queen or to your long lost Elyon?” Celynia did not respond to him. “He is not strong enough to sustain you here.” He said simply. “It will soon be your turn, and you will recant.” Amusement rang in his tone. Celynia did not lift her head. “He is strong enough, or there is nothing,” Celynia murmured. “There’s nothing then, snake. You know they allowed you to come here so the queen could see you before they torture you in front of her. They know she is fond of you. Maybe they will give you mercy if you recant quickly. After all, your race belongs to Pale from the beginning and you know it.” The fire channels in Celynia’s skull panged as they tried to make fire but were unable to. She still did not move. “We destroyed those of us who served him,” Celynia hissed. “It was before my time—” “I sense…” the guard hissed. His beady eyes seemed to smile at her. “The shame that your race carries…you know you are cursed, you know your service will be worthless when you perish and look into Elyon’s eyes, and when he smells the black, power-lusting snake blood in your veins—” the guard paused. “…wait.” The guard paused. He hesitated for a moment, and to Celynia’s surprise, she heard him leave the room. Silence. Merciful silence. She breathed hard. She did not know how long she lay prostrate, ignoring how the pressure on the fire quenchers burned her skull. The pain soothed her somehow, as if it could cleanse the evil from her. Yes, she was of an accursed race and that shamed her, but her fear and doubt in Elyon shamed her even further. Her Lord Espero had had golden eyes full of trust, like a child. Many times had he stopped, even in the midst of pressing duties, and had looked into her eyes, and had reminded her of the truth. The truth of Elyon’s kindness and mercy and how He could pay justice and redeem the fallen at the same time. “Lady Celynia?” The voice was small, but unafraid. Celynia lifted her head and raised her gaze. The young Elfe had returned. She stood in the entrance of the cavern room, her eyes flickering. Back in her own land of Alte Rynn, she would have been a creature full of life, but here, in Pale’s dimension, she was separated from her tree and the very air and magnetism of Ashnuw that fed Elfe vigor. She was pale and thin. Her mop of unruly red hair was disheveled and dim. Dark circles shown under her eyes. “Lady Celynia,” she said. Her voice was tired, but she tried to sound upbeat. “I have some water and cake.” She produced a large slice of iced brown ginger cake from a basket and lifted it in triumph, forcing a crooked little grin. Celynia allowed herself a small smile. “Thank you, Eolimakialial.” Only a few months ago she and a few of the royal guard had raided another of Pale’s army smiths. They had found the Elfe kept as a slave there, lighting the smith fires and working the bellows. Many, many of Pura had been taken prisoner over their last seven years of desperate survival in Pale’s dimension. Only the few who had found shelter underground with the King and Queen had still been somewhat free. Until now. Celynia had destroyed the smith, injured the enemy as close to death as she could in Pale’s world, and carried the young Elfe back. Eolimakialial they called her, “Flame of the Forest” in the common tongue. “I will not eat or drink now, but see the queen does.” Celynia said. “…You…might…live longer to be there for the queen if you at least drink,” the Elfe child said. She began munching on the cake herself. Celynia’s shoulders heaved. She shook her head. “I cannot.” Eolimakialial paused, then scrambled into the room with the nimbleness that characterized her people. “Hold still, Lady Celynia.” She took ahold of the fire quenchers embedded in the dragon’s skull. She pulled them free. Celynia’ closed her eyes against the pain. When she opened them, the Elfe child was wiping blood droplets off the fire quencher needles. She then dropped the helm and stepped on it with her calloused bare feet. “That’s better.” Celynia could not hold back another small smile. “How are the others?” she asked. Eolimakialial dropped lightly down onto the ground in front of her. “Only the royal guard are in chains, like you. Most of us are just grouped together. They tried to keep us sitting down for awhile, but then they got tired of it. They let us make food and take it to everyone. They say we’re to head out in three days to recant,” she shivered a little. “The guards talk about Pale all the time, and I just stick my fingers in my ears and stay quiet. I set one of the warriors pants on fire and he didn’t notice until another saw the fire and saw me laughing. They slapped me up pretty good after that, but that’s all.” Celynia listened intently, her moon-blue eyes filling with a sad fondness. Eolimakialial continued. “Yesterday they happened to grab me and just told me I was to tend to the queen.” She looked down at Queen Vyta, still lying unresponsive with her face to the wall. “She’s been…not well…I know she can’t die unless Pale allows it…but I think she…and most of us…would wish he would just get this all over with and kill us anyway.” Celynia did not respond. Back when they had first arrive in Pale’s dimension, a few had tried to commit suicide without success. Eolimakialial leaned forward. “I was able to get to the tunnel in the back pantry to get fresh air. It was so stuffy, I had to get out for a bit. I don’t think anyone even noticed I was missing…I think if I had more energy I could light a fire to burn a bigger hole and I could sneak the Queen out.” Celynia’s eyes sharpened. “The tunnel…in the back pantry? I thought it had caved in.” Footsteps sounded down the hall. Eolimakialial’s eyes grew wide with fear. “What’s this?” the pale guard sniffed. He stood in the entrance. Eolimakialial spun around, stuffing the cake into her back pocket. “Just delivering water and food, sir.” “Get out of here, you’re not needed anymore today,” the guard hissed, obviously annoyed that they had been talking in his absence. Eolimakialial hurried. She cast a quick glance over her shoulder and winked at Celynia. Then she snatched up her buckets and baskets and drudged on down the hall. The guard gave her a swift kick as she past, but she dodged it and broke into a trot. Celynia watched her leave, her mind at work…there was more than simply an opening to the surface of Pale’s dimension down that tunnel…and she knew it had been closed. Someone must have been trying to reopen— The guard was just about to open his mouth to speak when two black arrows whizzed into his trachea. His eyes grew round. He clutched at his neck and dropped to his knees. Something from the shadows shot up behind him, tackled him to the ground and buried a dagger in his back. The figure whipped upright. It was the red ferret. He dashed through the cavern room opening and mock bowed to the Viridian, strands of red head fur falling into his green eyes. Cashel, Rogue of the royal guard. “It’s taken you long enough,” Celynia stated simply. Eolimakialial skidded back around the corner of the room, her eyes wide with shock. She looked down at the unconscious guard, then back at Cashel. “Are we escaping?” she hissed. “That we are,” he said shortly. “Sirry fir not comin’ sooner,” the ferret dashed behind Celynia and began working on her neck ring at once. His wrists were matted with blood. “I tried sevir’l times. We’re goin’ t’have t’be fast.” “Very fast, Cashel,” another voice snapped. A precise, fine-tuned voice. A white fox took her place at the entrance of the cell, clothed in a red hood and cloak. She clutched a strung bow, guarding the hall. Holland, Ranger of the royal guard. “I hear shouting. Andran can only hold them off for ten minutes at best.” Cashel pried at the lock with a pin he had pulled from his hair. “We’ll give ‘em a good chase, Holland.” He pulled the neck ring off and dropped to his knees to work on the bands around Celynia’s wrists and wings. “Celin’a, if there’s evir a time fir us t’send someone through the portal, ‘tis now, before we are dragged away from the keep—” Holland made a sudden jerk and loosed her bow. Far down the halls something thudded. “King Espero allowed it to be covered again for a reason,” Celynia said. “It is unknown, he fears travelling through could kill the traveler—we don’t even know for certain it leads back to Ashnuw.” “It may be unknown, m’lady,” Holland said, taking a quick moment to turn towards them. Her black eyes glinted in the dark. “But we are willing to face the unknown if it means stopping Pale from enslaving any more kingdoms like he has ours. Should we die in the travel, death would be preferable to being eternally tortured and unable to die here.” Celynia did not respond. The bonds on her hands broke free. She stood up, flexing her fingers. “I will take Vyta,” she said quickly, picking up Vyta. “Gira should be blasting through the barrier now.” Cashel easily unclasped both of Celynia’s wing restraints. “Now, let’s run.” Celynia, carrying Vyta, followed out of the chamber and down the hall, Holland watching their back. Shouts came from the far end of the hall and the fox hissed, losing several arrows in quick succession. “Make haste!” she commanded as a black arrow of pale embedded in the dirt at Celynia’s tail. The pale warriors rounded the corner. Behind them all, little Eolimakialial followed, running as fast as she could. Her eyes were wide with disbelief. “A portal?” she finally managed to blurt out. “All this time—we had a portal--!?”
They ran down the tunnels of their occupied stronghold. Cashel took the front, Holland took the rear, they all pressed further into the dark. They took the side tunnels, the ones that and led down to the pantries and doubled behind the main cavern halls, where the majority of the prisoners and guards were. Even there, pale warriors roamed, but Cashel quickly found them first. They made it to the pantry. Cashel struggled to push back a tower of crates and Eolimakialial yanked out a pile of old rags stuffed in a hole in the wall. Then they all got down on their hands and knees and began to push through, Holland carefully replacing the crates behind them. Celynia hissed, her wings scraping against the top of the small space. She adjusted her hold on the queen and pressed on. A chorus of raging shouts suddenly rang in the pantry. The crates toppled. They had been followed and there were a lot of them. Holland spun about on her knees in the tunnel, without a word, and emptied her quiver on the ground. Celynia froze for a moment. “Twenty six arrows, Celynia,” the fox declared sharply, knocking her bow once again. The first face of a pale warrior appeared in the opening to the pantry. Holland loosed the arrow with a deadly whistle. All of the royal guard, though comrades, put the safety of their King, their Queen and their kingdom above all else. Even each other. That was the life they had chosen. That was completely understood amongst them. Celynia crawled faster, leaving the fox behind and pushing Eolimakialial forward. There was a light up ahead. The smell of smoke. The sound of rocks grinding. “Gira!” Cashel cried. An Elfe appeared at the end of the tunnel. Gira, the only Elfe who still had enough power to sometimes set off an explosion the size of a decent bomb. Though he looked far from being able to do so now. He was thin, white, wiry. His brown-green hair fell in dreadlocks and tangled s___ around his face. He was panting hard, almost unconscious, looking more haggard than usual. “I’ve almost blown through to the portal chamber,” he cried. “It is just behind these rocks.” Vyta coughed on the smoke. She lifted her head from where she was still clasped in Celynia’s arms, coming to. “Almos’?” Cashel gasped. His eyes flickered in realization. “…I just…need another twenty minutes to recharge—a little—then, I think I can have another go,” he gasped. “Twenty minutes is impossible, Gira,” Celynia said. The fatedness hung in her tone. “Holland can only hold them off for ten at the most.” Eolimakialial looked back at the way they had just come. They could hear Holland’s shouts. “The portal…” Vyta whispered. Her eyes began to flicker with light. Celynia adjusted her hold on the queen. “It’s our only hope, Vyta…ours as well as Ashnuw’s.” “…yes,” Vyta said. She was thinking. “There is a hole this big,” Gira held out his hands about a foot length. His fingers shook. “And the hole to the surface is clear—perhaps we—perhaps we could come back for the portal—” “No,” Celynia’s voice quickened. “Now that they have found this tunnel, they will find the hold as well. When they discover the portal, they will destroy it, or guard it with utmost care, or seal it off completely...” “I still can’t believe we’ve had a portal all this time,” Eolimakialial murmured. “Why didn’t we use it years ago?” “The king said nae,” Cashel muttered, obviously irritated. He’d always been cheekier than his station allowed for. “So many died when we were brought here…” Celynia murmured. “Espero hoped there was another way, a way that may not end in death...” “—But we don’t know for sure if it will kill anyone!” Eolimakialial piped up, her bright eyes flashing. Holland’s shouts turned to a howl. Then a scream. Without a word, Cashel pushed past them, back towards the tunnel. Gira snatched his arm. “Cashel—” Cashel shouted back, easily breaking free of his hold and charging down to the tunnel. “You’re too weak and Celynia must stay with the queen!” Pain registered in Celynia’s eyes. Gira looked on the verge of panicking. Eolikalialial swallowed. Celynia scrambled past them to the small hole in the tunnel that led to the portal. She set down Vyta, braced her legs against the rock and pushed with all her might. She curled her hands into fists, she grit her jaw. A roar escaped her— Then she stopped. She stared at the rock. Immovable. Like him. He was only feet away from her, out of reach, in the next room. Through a portal. Tears filled her eyes once again, as the truth registered in her heart. “Vyta is too weak to pass through the portal,” Celynia said. “There is too great a chance that it would kill her. And we have no time. I will take her to the surface and fly her to safety and from there we will rescue as many as we can. We must leave the portal for good—” at this, she swallowed, unable to speak. Vyta lifted her hand and pressed it against Celynia’s shoulder. “Wait.” Gira, lying prostrate on the ground in sorrow, lifted his head. Celynia swallowed back her tears. Eolimakialial stared from where she crouched, her arms wrapped around her knees. Vyta was glowing a little more. She turned her head and faced the Elfe child. Queen and waif met each other’s eyes. With effort, the Queen sat up, her child-like face growing peaceful. “Will you go, Eolimakialial?” Everyone held their breath. The child Elfe’s eyes widened in shock. Then wonder. Gira gasped in understanding. “She is so small, a nobody!--they wouldn’t even notice her missing. If one of us escaped, they would know for certain—Pale could even be alerted.” Eolimakialial still did not speak. “I cannot guarantee your life…” Vyta said, her voice soft. But her gaze never wavered. “But death is not to be feared.” Eolimakialial swallowed. Then nodded hard. “I’ll go,” she said. Queen Vyta raised her hand. She pressed it against the child’s forehead, taking a deep breath. “Go to all the kingdoms of Ashnuw and tell them what Pale is planning to do. Tell them what he has done to us. And if by some miracle, you can find the means to free us…” tears glistened in the queen’s silver eyes. She did not finish. “Do so. So that my servants can live. So that I can die.” Vyta’s glow increased. It wrapped around the small Elfe’s body, engulfing the two of them. Gira breathed in deeply, watching with reverent happiness. Celynia bowed her head, averting her gaze respectfully. The queen was whispering. Words in their native language, ancient tree words. Eolimakialial’s eyes glowed with hope. Her small shoulders sagged in peace. “…remember Elyon’s truth with all your might. You have spent years in slavery here and in the innocence and indulgence of youth back on Alte Rynn.” The Queen said. “You have not yet tasted His goodness for yourself…only heard of it. You must meet him for yourself, child, or else your heart will falter. Though I hope this testimony I have given you will come back to your memory when you need to be reminded most.” Eolimakialial smiled at the Queen, as if dazed. She hugged her. Then she scrambled past the queen, like a little spider, and hugged Celynia and Gira as well. “Hurry, hurry, Eolimakialial,” Gira urged. Celynia snatched the child’s hand. She pressed a small hard object into it. When she spoke, her voice was so tight it sounded like a whisper. “When you land, find a Viridian, like me, but with iron dark scales and night black hair. His name is Xkoll and he will do all in his power to assist you. Give him this and tell him his king is dead.” Eolimakialial uncurled her hand. It was a ring with a stone blue moon set at its center, encased in silver wire and strung with diamonds, like stars. The sound of battle was just around the bend. “Hurry, child.” Gira urged. Celynia once again took Vyta. Eolimakialial began to scoot through the hole into the chamber next door. “Tell him I’m alive!” Celynia cried as she began to crawl further down the tunnel. “Tell him—!” She did not finish. She hurried on, towards the surface, towards freedom…or at least…the closest to freedom they could have in that world.
The young Elfe stepped down into the portal chamber. It was dark except for a whirring grey light, like a miniature whirlpool, on the roof of the cave. The air in the cave was alive. Eolimakialial took a deep, deep breath. Her eyes lit up. Color returned to her skin and hair and eyes. She could smell Ashnuw. She could smell her tree. She began to make her way beneath the portal. Wind whipped her hair about her face. She looked up. She smiled. In the midst of the whirl pool, she could see a sky. Not grey, but blue. Just like she remembered. Eolimakialial could hear Cashel’s cries. Gira would soon be overwhelmed as well. They were doing their duty. It was much harder than hers, she thought. But then again, if she failed. It would be hard for her and them and everyone. She could still feel some of the Queen’s glow in her veins. Even before this moment, for the short time she had been there after her rescue, the King and Queen had treated her with love and honor. Even though she was just who Gira had said she was…a nobody. They didn’t even know which of their people’s love had brought her tree to life. But that had not changed anything. The King and Queen had treated all their subjects like valued souls in Elyon’s name. Both the testimony the Queen had pressed on her only moments before, and the kindness Eolimakialial had been given…the kindness that had made her feel warm and had made her hope linger…these were the only two reasons she believed Elyon might still be with them. Eolimakialial raised her hand to the portal. She closed her eyes, and clenched her fingers into a fist. With a gasp, she felt it catch her. It began to tear her into pieces, just like the first time they had all been sucked out of Pura and thrown into Pale’s dimension ten years ago. She screamed. Begging to live…
It had been 700 years. 700 years since the Kingdom of Pura and everyone in it had disappeared overnight, leaving nothing but shattered ruins. On the surface of Alte Rynn, a tall black Viridian walked among the trees. He stopped short and caught his breath, his golden eyes flashing. He fell to his knees over the small body of the Elfe girl curled up in the grass and scooped her up against his chest. He held her close, listening to her breathe, his pupils contracted to slits. The child’s hand uncurled. An object fell from it. He stared at it in the dirt. Its shape registered in his mind as if it he had seen it yesterday, the image tearing great stab holes into his heart. He snatched up Celynia’s ring. He looked back at the child. She stirred, catching her breath. “My…head…” she murmured… “I…need to tell them…” Xkoll waited, his entire being clutching to her words. “Speak, Elfe,” he whispered. “Speak…” “I…I can’t…” she winced. “I can’t remember.”
Remove these ads. Join the Worldbuilders Guild
HEY! I know the author of this will be reading this. SO!!!! Man you're a good writer! That whole scene with Celynia and the queen and the lines about the stars did get me crying. And I love it so much when a story can effect your emotions that much. Also all your class royal guards! Maybe it's because of the call back to the class team at the beginning but I connected so well with each of them and felt like I understood their personalities and loved their characters within just a few paragraphs, (because that's all they got). Just respect friend. You do great work that's glorifying to God.