Chapter 4 Peoples Plight
They were half starved when she found them. Her eyes took in the miserable trio huddled beneath the fuchsia trunk of a tree with weary resignation. The small forms were caked in a thick layer of travel dust and grime. Three sets of lips left hanging open in the noon-sun, chapped and peeling from dehydration. Six small feet, blistered and bloodied from what appeared to be days of desperate travel, twitched in exhausted spasms- as if to escape the flies buzzing around them and the small chunks of flesh hanging from them. The smallest one, she couldn't be more than six, whimpered in private terror, sucking her thumb even as she cried in her sleep. The eldest whom Glimmer estimated to be thirteen or fourteen clutched the child closer in the crook of his arm. Even in sleep trying to protect the child in his charge. The third was a boy of around eight, curled into a tight, little ball, his arms wound tightly around the oldest boy.
Leaning forward, Glimmer gently shook the eldest child awake. Blue eyes shot wide in terrified confusion, the boy's entire body tightened like a spring and he began trembling.
"Hey, easy. You're going to be alright. I'm here to help." Glimmer smiled with gentle reassurance. The boy's trembling did not cease as he gazed with quiet dread at the woman above him. She reached for the water- skin at her waist. The liquid was warm and stale but it was all she had to give until she could get the children to the whispering woods. She held it out to the lad, who gently shook the younger ones awake. Never taking his guarded gaze from Glimmer he stood, biting his lip to keep from crying in pain, his face twisting in suppressed agony. He pulled the younger boy to his feet. The child gripped his leg for support, burying his face in the eldest' pants and sniffling softly, attempting to hide the fact he was crying. The little girl, however made no effort to hide her tears or pain. She began wailing. Great gulping, rasping sobs emitted from her tiny throat, Glimmers heart twisted with compassion. She watched in amazement as, oblivious to his own pain the adolescent scooped the little girl up into the crook of his arm, holding her, sparing her the agony of standing. She continued to cry, though her tears were somewhat muffled into the boy's shoulder.
Glimmer offered him the waterskin again. He eyed it warily, his stiff posture betraying his distrust.
"Go ahead, take it. It's okay. See." Glimmer took a swallow, proving it was safe and smiled, offering him the water a third time.
Snatching it from her hands, he quick flash of gratitude and relief in his eyes was her only thanks. He offered it first to the little girl at his shoulder. She swallowed greedily, crying in loud protest as he pulled it away lest she get sick. The boy at his side was already reaching for it, he took a couple swallows before handing it back to the oldest.
"Can you tell me where your parents are?" Glimmer asked gently. She regretted the question almost immediately as the words achieved what his obvious pain had not. His eyes grew large and bright as if he fought the tears. He took deep gulping breaths and his mouth moved but no sound was forthcoming. Finally he shook his head in denial. Glimmer surmised they were of the many refugees on their way to the whispering woods or Brightmoon Her cell had been finding them in similar shape for the past six weeks. She was rechecking the road to Grenvale for survivors left staked to the road when she found these three.
"Well, its obvious you can't walk in your condition," she muttered ruefully, "so I'll just have to improvise." Knowing she would pay for it afterward Glimmer put her hands to her temples and summoned the energy within her. A lavender orb of light appeared to encompass the children and her, lifting them from the ground and flying them swiftly over the once green and carnation earth, now stained red and black from turned sod and clay trampled in an ugly disarray, due to the hundreds of hooves and wheels and feet of a large army recently marched through. Her concentration was fierce and her power great but even the princess of Brightmoon had limits; she found her focus failing as fatigue washed over her body in a numb rush. The orb flickered briefly and they plummeted perilously close to the ground. Desperately Glimmer struggled to maintain cohesion. The panicked gaze of the blue eyed boy flashed into her mind- she refused to fail him.
Glimmer reached deep. Deep into the recesses of her soul, her powers feeding on hidden reserves even she didn't realize she had. The Orb floated into the whispering woods, right into the main camp to land gently on the ground at Madame Raz's feet where it abruptly dissipated. The three children gazed around them in wonder and fear, but Glimmer had no chance to reassure them as she collapsed to the ground in an unconscious heap. The little girl looked at the fallen woman and struggled out of her brothers arms. She crawled on her knees across the ground to touch her soft, pink hair.
"Angel." She whispered in awe. Madame Raz took in the scene before her gazing in dismay at the children's feet.
"Oh dear!" She squawked. The three looked to the peculiar woman, fright, wonder and curiosity warring for dominance on their young faces. Madame smiled. "It's alright dearies, you're among friends now." Her eyes slid away from the children to Glimmers fallen form. "What is going on here?"
"Are we in the Whispering woods then?" The oldest boy questioned, glancing uneasily at Glimmers collapsed form before locking eyes with Madame. She smiled gently.
"Yes dearie, your safe here, no need to worry."
"Can you help my brother and sister. We've been traveling for three days and two nights. I tried not to stop." His quavering voice dropped to a muted whisper, "Momma said don't stop. But we were barefoot. The road, it hurt our feet." He took a deep ragged breath, sticking out his chest in a child like show of courage, "I, of course, could handle it but my little sister and my brother, well, I'm older, it was harder for them. Madame eyed the boy struggling so hard to be a man with empathic pity and concern.
"Of course I can help them dear. You as well." She turned her head, addressing two passing rebels. "Rolland, Gus, please, take the children and this young man here," she gestured to the boy, who visibly straightened at being called a man, "to the infirmary to recover. They've been through an ordeal." The two were gazing at Glimmer's prone form with horrified concern. Madame shooed them along dismissively.
"She'll be fine, I'll have her taken to my tent to recover; all she needs is a bit of rest." The two took the children to the infirmary and Madame knelt at Glimmer's side. Placing a hand on Glimmer's brow, Madame breathed energy from her own life force into Glimmers. The princess moaned, struggling to sit up.
"The children, Madame are they-"
"They're fine sweetie, as are you, now. You took a foolish risk. You above all people know the limits to your power. You could have failed and left yourself and those you sought to protect exposed and vulnerable to the Black Guard." Madame's tone was severe but her eyes shone with concern. Glimmer shrugged tiredly.
"We all take risks Madame. And you are not one to lecture me on exceeding the limits of my power." Madame Raz flushed lightly. She had been drawing on her own stores of energy more than wise lately as the circles beneath her eyes could surely attest.
"We must all do what we can to keep freedom alive." Glimmer said softly.
"Or at least the hope of it." Madame replied, thoughtfully.
"I need to get to Spikeheart. We're reinforcing Brightmoon tomorrow. Netossa is sending a regiment from Mystacor and we will force the Black Guard back! Ahgo can't plan the attack because he doesn't know the terrain as well as I do." Glimmer struggled to stand. Madame smiled gently, lending her arm as support as Brightmoon's princess rose to her feet.
"Good Journey then." Glimmer looked sharply at Madame.
"I'm beginning to wonder if there is any goodness left at all in the universe." She bitterly whispered.
"There's us." Madame offered. Glimmer said nothing, instead, collapsing to her knees, placing her face in her hands she began weeping, angry brittle sobs of frustrated despair and exhaustion.
"It's not enough!" Glimmer cried, "the Horde is too big." Wrapping her arms around Glimmer's crumpled form, Madame rocked her gently back and forth, compassion welling up in her heart; she smoothed her pink hair back over her temple and out of her eyes.
"So, do we just give up then?" Madame asked the young woman softly, a sad smile on her kindly face. Glimmer seemed to take strength from Madame's soft words.
"No." Glimmer gritted through clenched teeth, her slender hands fisting at her sides. "We fight. We fight until we die because some things are worth it and because I would rather die free than live as Hordacks slave."
"Or maybe we fight until we win." Madame answered, even as she said it her voice empty of hope or belief. Glimmer stood, squeezing Madame's hand as she did so.
"Goodbye Madame. I… I don't expect I'll see you again, outnumbered you know, and I'm so tired." Glimmer turned, slowly walking through the trees. Madame watched her leave, worry and fear in her face. Not just for Glimmer but for them all.
All the rebels remaining in the whispering woods were combined in two groups equaling around a thousand women and children and two hundred men. However the number was growing daily as refugees managed to make their way to the pastel sanctuary. Food was scarce and many went without and it was getting worse. The infirmaries were overcrowding as members of Glimmer's cell rescued more civilians from the three day torture of the roadside stakings made by Adora and the Black Guard, as her honor guard was being referred to.
Madame smiled absently at people she passed, moving deeper into the woods. Her concern for the people weighing heavy on her mind. The wind was blowing hard. Winter was setting in. Many would be without warmth. Madame stepped into a small clearing. The twiggets and Broom sat in a circle around what appeared to be a ball of dead foliage. She sat in the circle with them.
"Things are gettin' desperate, aren't they Madame?" Broom questioned, somberly. Madame Raz nodded.
"They're beyond desperate. They're dire." The twiggets gazed in supplication at their leader. Years ago Madame cast a spell on the Whispering woods, granting it sentience and the Twiggets were a byproduct of that sentience; they loved her. They knew the only reason they existed were due to her selfless act of love and devotion in granting the woods a part of her life force. They looked to her for guidance, for a solution to end the suffering they saw all around them. With She-Ra gone, she was their last hope. Madame knew of one solution that would end the hunger and their food worries but she was unwilling to consider such a final solution.
Yet.
Glimmer's words rang in her ears. We fight until we die because some things are worth it.
"The wind is blowing cold tonight."
"Its winter." Broom answered sarcastically. Madame's eyes flashed.
"Well, I for one am going to do something about it. There are children in these woods. They could become ill."
"Won't do 'em any good to be healthy if their isn't any food. The streams are fished out. The berries and fruits are gone and most of the edible roots as well."
"I'll handle that too." Broom eyed Madame in concern. He was well aware- even if the twiggets were not- of the cost to Madame, if she did indeed take care of it all. She placed her hands above the ball of brown lifeless leaves and a white glow flew from her hands to the brush. The twiggets bowed their green capped heads and Broom joined them, each adding their own mental focus to Madame as she released her life force, muttering the ancient words of the Shiaatsa, a tongue unheard in the world for a thousand years.
"Razzle dazzle melthendusola uri ann katel!" With a sharp jolt Madame felt her spirit jostle from the small confines of her short, squat body and spread over and throughout the forest. She merged with the soil. Sensing the small primitive minds of worms and bugs beneath the dirt. Moles and rabbits shifting in their warrens, the roots of each mighty tree quivered in anticipation of her spiritual touch.
Then, it happened.
She merged with the forest, became each tree. It was ecstasy unbound. The pleasure coursed through and around her spirit-self in waves of life as the forests heart pulsed and throbbed around her. Distantly, she heard a voice chanting a strangely familiar litany of words and she dimly recognized it as her own, before her attention shifted once more to the trees.
"…melthendusola uri ann katel, melthendusola uri ann katel, melthendusola uri ann katel…" With extreme difficulty she forced herself to focus on the task at hand. She sped up the reproductive processes of each plant and tree, replenishing the forests supply of fruit and nuts and vegetables. She then increased the respiratory rate of the forest, causing a greenhouse effect, the stems of flowers and leaves of bushes and trees grew damp with dew, the chill breeze lost its bite, becoming warm, caressing, the heated breath of a god, gently wafting over his people.
The twiggets and broom quickly felt the effects of Madame's spell as the air heated around them. Suddenly the chanting stopped. Broom looked up from his concentration to see Madame gazing blankly at the dead brush in front of her. The twiggets stood, quietly shuffling off to lend comfort to the people staying in the forest. Broom stayed with Madame, unwilling to leave her side.
Tenderly he moved toward her, gently shaking her. Her eyes fell shut and her body went limp as she passed into the realm of unconsciousness. Despair filled his heart. With a cry of rage he savagely struck the unmoving ball of brush. It crumbled beneath his feral onslaught. Just as quick as it came his rage extinguished. He sat beside the woman he loved, cradling her tenderly in his spindly arms, unable to do more for her than be there when she awoke.
It was not always so however. With nothing more to do than hold her, Broom let his mind drift into another time. Another life…
Broom was the only one to remember who Madame used to be. Even Madame sometimes forgot who she once was. Long ago, she had been the beautiful and powerful enchantress, Ayella Adami.
One thousand years ago, Madame, then daughter to one of the ruling families of Etheria, dedicated her life to the protection and preservation of her people and their freedoms. She was also a priestess of the even then ancient Shiaatsa order. An order of men and women who drew on the magics of the life force all around and within them.
She was elite then. She could have been head of her order had she so chosen. However, instead of choosing the power and comfort the life of high priestess would bring, she chose to place her people first. With her gifts she was able to foresee the day when Etheria would need a birthplace of hope and freedom, free from the taint and touch of the evil which would engulf the world. She did what she could to see ensure such a place would exist.
Hers was a bold and ambitious plan. One any lesser magician or sorceress with an ounce of sense or fear would never have attempted. Ayella, however, never had possessed much of either. Head strong and determined, secure in her knowledge of her talent and art she embraced the future as hers to protect. The one thing she loved above even her magic; her duty to her people and her home.
Using ancient magiks of her order, casting spells none were able to fully comprehend and drawing on all life within a large forest and the life within herself, she linked her consciousness to the woods, granting the forest sentience and the ability to discern good and evil within the human heart. However something went wrong in her casting.
She realized afterward she inadvertently transmuted the spirit of the forest when she granted it sentience and in so doing merged transmutation magiks with Shiaatsa life force magiks. Two completely different types of power, one of which she knew nothing about.
And the spell was somehow incomplete.
Suffering from bouts of confusion and disorientation, she would lapse into states of unconsciousness that would, at times, last days. With nowhere left to go she turned to her childhood friend Lysander Steel. He was a sorcerer, specializing in transmutation.
Broom well remembered the day she came to him. His heart stopping- in awe of her delicate, fragile beauty. Her skin ivory white with a hint of lavender- alluding to the blood flowing beneath the flawless cloak of perfection. Her long hair of purest platinum flowing free and wild, a silky waterfall over her gown of dark purple and silver. A blush of anxiety dusting her high cheek bones as she told him her tale and what she had done. At first Broom was furious she would take such risk with her life, for she had indeed been playing with powerful magiks of the most primitive level.
But he agreed to help her. How could he not, for he was moved by both her beauty and her desperate courage. He admired her spirit and determination as much as her commitment to her cause. And he always was a sucker for a damsel in distress.
Tirelessly they worked, trying to find what went wrong in the spell. There were times when she would collapse, unconscious, another lapse in energies due to the constant drain of spirit caused by the spell and he would work alone, deep into the night. His concern for her well being ignited a fire within him that would not be extinguished. Piece by piece they unraveled the spell until discovering the flaw.
Each spell, each piece of magic requires balance. Ayella achieved balance with the Shiaatsa life force energies. Her life force balancing the life force of the forest.
The spell was like a line on a page. At one end was Ayella's life force, at the other, the forest. In her ignorance Ayella somehow managed to tap into the power to transmute objects, to transform life, because in order to complete her spell and grant the forest a certain level of sentience and discernment, she changed the forest of individual trees into one collective living being. A totally new form of life. So a new line was formed from the original line without an equivalent line in opposition. Leaving the spell unbalanced; similar to a Y shape.
Something would have to be transfigured on Ayella's end of the spell in order to achieve balance. Ideally, it would be the power source of the spell. However, Ayella could not attempt to transfigure herself. That would be folly, even for a master of the art such as himself. Even a normal self transfiguration would be painful but with her entire being focused on the spell linking her to the forest, any attempt on her part would be fatal.
Painfully so.
To be transfigured by another brought no pain but to transfigure oneself was excruciating. This was because for a brief time the spirit would be split, trapped between forms, that of the one casting and the one becoming, the sensations would be akin to bathing in fire.
Lysander also learned if an alternate source of power could be found other than the life force within Ayella, she would never have to worry about the side affects of the spell again. She would be able to live a normal life. This was important to him because he found that he could not imagine his life without her in it. Working beside her each day, smelling her skin, being filled with her spirit, her joyfulness, her empathy and courage; he was unable to resist.
He loved her.
With all his heart, he loved her. Sensing she had feelings for him as well he courted them judiciously.
He told her what he discovered and then shared his plan. If they could transfer the spells anchor from Ayella's life force to the force of his love for her then they could transmute their love, transforming the emotional energies into a blossoming willow tree thus having a sentient forest at one end of the spell and a physical manifestation of their love- the power source- as the opposite anchor, achieving a balance. Ayella agreed.
She had been so young, then; but her power was so great and her courage so strong he blinded himself to her age. That had perhaps been his undoing. Her grasp of her own power, her dedication to her people and her commitment to others had enchanted him. He loved her so much. If, perhaps, he had not been blinded by his love for her and his desire to possess her love as his own, he would have considered, perhaps she was too young to love an old man such as himself. After all, he was ten years her senior.
But love can make fools of even the most cautious and so the night came.
Trusting in the strength and purity of his love for Ayella, not allowing himself to question hers, he summoned the powers at his command. Reaching beyond the fabric of reality and seeking to bend it to his will. He held her fragile hands in his own as she concentrated on her own task, summoning up all the powers of the Shiaatsa, the powers drawn from her own life force and that of the forest.
Light crackled around them both, hers white and brilliant and his blue and bold; they merged and mingled, braiding together, twisting cords of power forming a flaming halo of magical radiance around them. Within the gloriole of power beside them they focused their love on the image of a sapling, the physical expression of their love for each other; it sprouted, elongating, twigs growing, roots stretching hungrily toward the earth. Leaves blossomed, vibrant, green, alive. The bark was a deep, rich brown. Gradually it expanded in size, until it was the length and breadth of a child.
And then, something went wrong.
Green sparks spit and hissed from the two distinctly different magical forces merging and the leaves on the sapling began to whither and die. Quickly Lysander reviewed his calculations; he knew there was nothing wrong with the spell. His love for Ayella was beyond doubt; he would die for her. It looked as if they might both die, there, in the circle their combined power formed. The salvation Ayella so yearned for her people would now be their grave if he did not figure out what was wrong. He shot desperate Ebony eyes toward Ayella whose face was a fierce mask of concentration as she struggled valiantly to maintain the spells cohesion. Understanding washed over him like a warm tide.
She didn't love him.
She thought she did. She said all the right things acted the right way, she was drawn to him certainly. Felt affection toward him, yes. Admired him for his power and his courage.
But that was not love.
Lysander gazed onto the face of the woman he had come to cherish above all life even his own, knowing she was about to die and he did the only thing he could.
He saved her.
With a last gentle squeeze to her hand he released one of them to grasp the dying sapling and transfigured himself. The pain was agonizing. His skin melted from his body as the sapling merged with his spirit. He felt his body shrivel in on itself and reform. He knew if he cried out Ayella would lose concentration, the spell would be incomplete and he would die and she would spend what was left of her life in and out of awareness before joining him in that eternal abyss. He kept his silence.
The pain was brutal in its intensity; slamming violently into every nerve ending in his body, searing his lungs and devouring his breath, he felt his organs grinding and shifting, flames of hungry suffering licked greedily up his limbs, his entire body spasming in such horrific anguish as the magic seemed to feed off his form. Bringing all his years of self discipline to bear he bit back the screams of tormented misery and focused instead on her and the love he felt. For his sacrifice she would live. And in the end, that was all that mattered to him.
Her life.
He yearned for the sweet embrace of death but did not give in. He counted instead each shining strand of silver-white hair on her head. He found himself remembering the reflection of starlight in her amethyst eyes, when she laughed as moonlight caressed the pale smooth skin of her face, glowing ethereally off the gentle curve of her cheek and graceful arch of her neck as they strolled in the gardens on cool wintry evenings. He spent the countless and endless seconds poised between life and death wishing he could hold her to him one last time, this woman he loved. The woman who would die if he failed in this task. He reached out to stroke her silky hair once more with his own hand but it was not to be and he let his new and unhuman hand fall away.
She was unaware of his anguish, his torment as he changed into a broom. A witch's companion- he changed her as well, he had no choice, the spells power was now bound to both her life force and his love. It was twice as strong as before but for balance to be achieved she had to change as well. He couldn't bare to rob her of her humanity however, he made her instead his vision of Ceridwen; mother of the natural world. He felt it fitting since she willingly bound her fate with that of a forest. No longer human he was now the product of his life and his love, combined with the tree form that love had taken. She was lost in her own web of magic and did not feel the new course his took and when his change was complete he felt her power wash over him, a soothing balm of warmth and light, caressing his shivering form, locking him into his new shape for eternity, forming the last line of balance in the spell.
It was done- the spell was now an X in form; Broom and Raz forming two lines at one end as the power source of the spell and at the other end was the forest as it once was and as it had changed according to their need. The forest, in its new sentience enhanced form, they later learned, spawned the twiggets.
Ayella opened her eyes, gazing in confusion at the broom before her.
Broom never told her why the spell failed.
He blamed it on a miscalculation on his part. He left her the next day, hoping she would move on with her life and find love, a real love and not feel bound to him by duty or guilt. He met her again three hundred years later. The spell granting them both the life span of a forest so neither aged much but to his deep dismay he discovered that because the spells power still came from her life force- though she no longer experienced periodic bouts of unconsciousness, she continued having lapses in concentration. He never left her side again.
Lately, with the influx of refugees she began dipping deeper into her well of power than she ever had before and Broom was afraid. Even after a thousand years he still loved her. He was helpless to aid her however for his powers were locked tightly in the spell that kept Madame and him alive and the whispering woods sentient. He feared that one day she would dip too far and too deep into her magical resources and discover they had run dry. Then she would be unable to return to him.
The years had changed her- to be sure. She was short and fat and dumpy with age, the image of Ceridwen he had given her; but when Broom looked at her he saw her with the eyes of love and he saw that she was possessed of the same fire in her soul that burned one thousand years ago. The same passion for her people, the same empathy for their pain and the same selfless love for her planet. When Broom looked at the sleeping witch in his arms he saw the most beautiful woman on Etheria.
He wished She-Ra were here. She could help ease the plight of the refugees from Madame's shoulders. But she wasn't there and Madame was the only hope many of them had. Come morning Glimmer would leave the forest and return to her rebel camp in Spikeheart if she hadn't already done so and Madame would once again be alone and responsible for the fate of the people in the Whispering woods.
They were half starved when she found them. Her eyes took in the miserable trio huddled beneath the fuchsia trunk of a tree with weary resignation. The small forms were caked in a thick layer of travel dust and grime. Three sets of lips left hanging open in the noon-sun, chapped and peeling from dehydration. Six small feet, blistered and bloodied from what appeared to be days of desperate travel, twitched in exhausted spasms- as if to escape the flies buzzing around them and the small chunks of flesh hanging from them. The smallest one, she couldn't be more than six, whimpered in private terror, sucking her thumb even as she cried in her sleep. The eldest whom Glimmer estimated to be thirteen or fourteen clutched the child closer in the crook of his arm. Even in sleep trying to protect the child in his charge. The third was a boy of around eight, curled into a tight, little ball, his arms wound tightly around the oldest boy.
Leaning forward, Glimmer gently shook the eldest child awake. Blue eyes shot wide in terrified confusion, the boy's entire body tightened like a spring and he began trembling.
"Hey, easy. You're going to be alright. I'm here to help." Glimmer smiled with gentle reassurance. The boy's trembling did not cease as he gazed with quiet dread at the woman above him. She reached for the water- skin at her waist. The liquid was warm and stale but it was all she had to give until she could get the children to the whispering woods. She held it out to the lad, who gently shook the younger ones awake. Never taking his guarded gaze from Glimmer he stood, biting his lip to keep from crying in pain, his face twisting in suppressed agony. He pulled the younger boy to his feet. The child gripped his leg for support, burying his face in the eldest' pants and sniffling softly, attempting to hide the fact he was crying. The little girl, however made no effort to hide her tears or pain. She began wailing. Great gulping, rasping sobs emitted from her tiny throat, Glimmers heart twisted with compassion. She watched in amazement as, oblivious to his own pain the adolescent scooped the little girl up into the crook of his arm, holding her, sparing her the agony of standing. She continued to cry, though her tears were somewhat muffled into the boy's shoulder.
Glimmer offered him the waterskin again. He eyed it warily, his stiff posture betraying his distrust.
"Go ahead, take it. It's okay. See." Glimmer took a swallow, proving it was safe and smiled, offering him the water a third time.
Snatching it from her hands, he quick flash of gratitude and relief in his eyes was her only thanks. He offered it first to the little girl at his shoulder. She swallowed greedily, crying in loud protest as he pulled it away lest she get sick. The boy at his side was already reaching for it, he took a couple swallows before handing it back to the oldest.
"Can you tell me where your parents are?" Glimmer asked gently. She regretted the question almost immediately as the words achieved what his obvious pain had not. His eyes grew large and bright as if he fought the tears. He took deep gulping breaths and his mouth moved but no sound was forthcoming. Finally he shook his head in denial. Glimmer surmised they were of the many refugees on their way to the whispering woods or Brightmoon Her cell had been finding them in similar shape for the past six weeks. She was rechecking the road to Grenvale for survivors left staked to the road when she found these three.
"Well, its obvious you can't walk in your condition," she muttered ruefully, "so I'll just have to improvise." Knowing she would pay for it afterward Glimmer put her hands to her temples and summoned the energy within her. A lavender orb of light appeared to encompass the children and her, lifting them from the ground and flying them swiftly over the once green and carnation earth, now stained red and black from turned sod and clay trampled in an ugly disarray, due to the hundreds of hooves and wheels and feet of a large army recently marched through. Her concentration was fierce and her power great but even the princess of Brightmoon had limits; she found her focus failing as fatigue washed over her body in a numb rush. The orb flickered briefly and they plummeted perilously close to the ground. Desperately Glimmer struggled to maintain cohesion. The panicked gaze of the blue eyed boy flashed into her mind- she refused to fail him.
Glimmer reached deep. Deep into the recesses of her soul, her powers feeding on hidden reserves even she didn't realize she had. The Orb floated into the whispering woods, right into the main camp to land gently on the ground at Madame Raz's feet where it abruptly dissipated. The three children gazed around them in wonder and fear, but Glimmer had no chance to reassure them as she collapsed to the ground in an unconscious heap. The little girl looked at the fallen woman and struggled out of her brothers arms. She crawled on her knees across the ground to touch her soft, pink hair.
"Angel." She whispered in awe. Madame Raz took in the scene before her gazing in dismay at the children's feet.
"Oh dear!" She squawked. The three looked to the peculiar woman, fright, wonder and curiosity warring for dominance on their young faces. Madame smiled. "It's alright dearies, you're among friends now." Her eyes slid away from the children to Glimmers fallen form. "What is going on here?"
"Are we in the Whispering woods then?" The oldest boy questioned, glancing uneasily at Glimmers collapsed form before locking eyes with Madame. She smiled gently.
"Yes dearie, your safe here, no need to worry."
"Can you help my brother and sister. We've been traveling for three days and two nights. I tried not to stop." His quavering voice dropped to a muted whisper, "Momma said don't stop. But we were barefoot. The road, it hurt our feet." He took a deep ragged breath, sticking out his chest in a child like show of courage, "I, of course, could handle it but my little sister and my brother, well, I'm older, it was harder for them. Madame eyed the boy struggling so hard to be a man with empathic pity and concern.
"Of course I can help them dear. You as well." She turned her head, addressing two passing rebels. "Rolland, Gus, please, take the children and this young man here," she gestured to the boy, who visibly straightened at being called a man, "to the infirmary to recover. They've been through an ordeal." The two were gazing at Glimmer's prone form with horrified concern. Madame shooed them along dismissively.
"She'll be fine, I'll have her taken to my tent to recover; all she needs is a bit of rest." The two took the children to the infirmary and Madame knelt at Glimmer's side. Placing a hand on Glimmer's brow, Madame breathed energy from her own life force into Glimmers. The princess moaned, struggling to sit up.
"The children, Madame are they-"
"They're fine sweetie, as are you, now. You took a foolish risk. You above all people know the limits to your power. You could have failed and left yourself and those you sought to protect exposed and vulnerable to the Black Guard." Madame's tone was severe but her eyes shone with concern. Glimmer shrugged tiredly.
"We all take risks Madame. And you are not one to lecture me on exceeding the limits of my power." Madame Raz flushed lightly. She had been drawing on her own stores of energy more than wise lately as the circles beneath her eyes could surely attest.
"We must all do what we can to keep freedom alive." Glimmer said softly.
"Or at least the hope of it." Madame replied, thoughtfully.
"I need to get to Spikeheart. We're reinforcing Brightmoon tomorrow. Netossa is sending a regiment from Mystacor and we will force the Black Guard back! Ahgo can't plan the attack because he doesn't know the terrain as well as I do." Glimmer struggled to stand. Madame smiled gently, lending her arm as support as Brightmoon's princess rose to her feet.
"Good Journey then." Glimmer looked sharply at Madame.
"I'm beginning to wonder if there is any goodness left at all in the universe." She bitterly whispered.
"There's us." Madame offered. Glimmer said nothing, instead, collapsing to her knees, placing her face in her hands she began weeping, angry brittle sobs of frustrated despair and exhaustion.
"It's not enough!" Glimmer cried, "the Horde is too big." Wrapping her arms around Glimmer's crumpled form, Madame rocked her gently back and forth, compassion welling up in her heart; she smoothed her pink hair back over her temple and out of her eyes.
"So, do we just give up then?" Madame asked the young woman softly, a sad smile on her kindly face. Glimmer seemed to take strength from Madame's soft words.
"No." Glimmer gritted through clenched teeth, her slender hands fisting at her sides. "We fight. We fight until we die because some things are worth it and because I would rather die free than live as Hordacks slave."
"Or maybe we fight until we win." Madame answered, even as she said it her voice empty of hope or belief. Glimmer stood, squeezing Madame's hand as she did so.
"Goodbye Madame. I… I don't expect I'll see you again, outnumbered you know, and I'm so tired." Glimmer turned, slowly walking through the trees. Madame watched her leave, worry and fear in her face. Not just for Glimmer but for them all.
All the rebels remaining in the whispering woods were combined in two groups equaling around a thousand women and children and two hundred men. However the number was growing daily as refugees managed to make their way to the pastel sanctuary. Food was scarce and many went without and it was getting worse. The infirmaries were overcrowding as members of Glimmer's cell rescued more civilians from the three day torture of the roadside stakings made by Adora and the Black Guard, as her honor guard was being referred to.
Madame smiled absently at people she passed, moving deeper into the woods. Her concern for the people weighing heavy on her mind. The wind was blowing hard. Winter was setting in. Many would be without warmth. Madame stepped into a small clearing. The twiggets and Broom sat in a circle around what appeared to be a ball of dead foliage. She sat in the circle with them.
"Things are gettin' desperate, aren't they Madame?" Broom questioned, somberly. Madame Raz nodded.
"They're beyond desperate. They're dire." The twiggets gazed in supplication at their leader. Years ago Madame cast a spell on the Whispering woods, granting it sentience and the Twiggets were a byproduct of that sentience; they loved her. They knew the only reason they existed were due to her selfless act of love and devotion in granting the woods a part of her life force. They looked to her for guidance, for a solution to end the suffering they saw all around them. With She-Ra gone, she was their last hope. Madame knew of one solution that would end the hunger and their food worries but she was unwilling to consider such a final solution.
Yet.
Glimmer's words rang in her ears. We fight until we die because some things are worth it.
"The wind is blowing cold tonight."
"Its winter." Broom answered sarcastically. Madame's eyes flashed.
"Well, I for one am going to do something about it. There are children in these woods. They could become ill."
"Won't do 'em any good to be healthy if their isn't any food. The streams are fished out. The berries and fruits are gone and most of the edible roots as well."
"I'll handle that too." Broom eyed Madame in concern. He was well aware- even if the twiggets were not- of the cost to Madame, if she did indeed take care of it all. She placed her hands above the ball of brown lifeless leaves and a white glow flew from her hands to the brush. The twiggets bowed their green capped heads and Broom joined them, each adding their own mental focus to Madame as she released her life force, muttering the ancient words of the Shiaatsa, a tongue unheard in the world for a thousand years.
"Razzle dazzle melthendusola uri ann katel!" With a sharp jolt Madame felt her spirit jostle from the small confines of her short, squat body and spread over and throughout the forest. She merged with the soil. Sensing the small primitive minds of worms and bugs beneath the dirt. Moles and rabbits shifting in their warrens, the roots of each mighty tree quivered in anticipation of her spiritual touch.
Then, it happened.
She merged with the forest, became each tree. It was ecstasy unbound. The pleasure coursed through and around her spirit-self in waves of life as the forests heart pulsed and throbbed around her. Distantly, she heard a voice chanting a strangely familiar litany of words and she dimly recognized it as her own, before her attention shifted once more to the trees.
"…melthendusola uri ann katel, melthendusola uri ann katel, melthendusola uri ann katel…" With extreme difficulty she forced herself to focus on the task at hand. She sped up the reproductive processes of each plant and tree, replenishing the forests supply of fruit and nuts and vegetables. She then increased the respiratory rate of the forest, causing a greenhouse effect, the stems of flowers and leaves of bushes and trees grew damp with dew, the chill breeze lost its bite, becoming warm, caressing, the heated breath of a god, gently wafting over his people.
The twiggets and broom quickly felt the effects of Madame's spell as the air heated around them. Suddenly the chanting stopped. Broom looked up from his concentration to see Madame gazing blankly at the dead brush in front of her. The twiggets stood, quietly shuffling off to lend comfort to the people staying in the forest. Broom stayed with Madame, unwilling to leave her side.
Tenderly he moved toward her, gently shaking her. Her eyes fell shut and her body went limp as she passed into the realm of unconsciousness. Despair filled his heart. With a cry of rage he savagely struck the unmoving ball of brush. It crumbled beneath his feral onslaught. Just as quick as it came his rage extinguished. He sat beside the woman he loved, cradling her tenderly in his spindly arms, unable to do more for her than be there when she awoke.
It was not always so however. With nothing more to do than hold her, Broom let his mind drift into another time. Another life…
Broom was the only one to remember who Madame used to be. Even Madame sometimes forgot who she once was. Long ago, she had been the beautiful and powerful enchantress, Ayella Adami.
One thousand years ago, Madame, then daughter to one of the ruling families of Etheria, dedicated her life to the protection and preservation of her people and their freedoms. She was also a priestess of the even then ancient Shiaatsa order. An order of men and women who drew on the magics of the life force all around and within them.
She was elite then. She could have been head of her order had she so chosen. However, instead of choosing the power and comfort the life of high priestess would bring, she chose to place her people first. With her gifts she was able to foresee the day when Etheria would need a birthplace of hope and freedom, free from the taint and touch of the evil which would engulf the world. She did what she could to see ensure such a place would exist.
Hers was a bold and ambitious plan. One any lesser magician or sorceress with an ounce of sense or fear would never have attempted. Ayella, however, never had possessed much of either. Head strong and determined, secure in her knowledge of her talent and art she embraced the future as hers to protect. The one thing she loved above even her magic; her duty to her people and her home.
Using ancient magiks of her order, casting spells none were able to fully comprehend and drawing on all life within a large forest and the life within herself, she linked her consciousness to the woods, granting the forest sentience and the ability to discern good and evil within the human heart. However something went wrong in her casting.
She realized afterward she inadvertently transmuted the spirit of the forest when she granted it sentience and in so doing merged transmutation magiks with Shiaatsa life force magiks. Two completely different types of power, one of which she knew nothing about.
And the spell was somehow incomplete.
Suffering from bouts of confusion and disorientation, she would lapse into states of unconsciousness that would, at times, last days. With nowhere left to go she turned to her childhood friend Lysander Steel. He was a sorcerer, specializing in transmutation.
Broom well remembered the day she came to him. His heart stopping- in awe of her delicate, fragile beauty. Her skin ivory white with a hint of lavender- alluding to the blood flowing beneath the flawless cloak of perfection. Her long hair of purest platinum flowing free and wild, a silky waterfall over her gown of dark purple and silver. A blush of anxiety dusting her high cheek bones as she told him her tale and what she had done. At first Broom was furious she would take such risk with her life, for she had indeed been playing with powerful magiks of the most primitive level.
But he agreed to help her. How could he not, for he was moved by both her beauty and her desperate courage. He admired her spirit and determination as much as her commitment to her cause. And he always was a sucker for a damsel in distress.
Tirelessly they worked, trying to find what went wrong in the spell. There were times when she would collapse, unconscious, another lapse in energies due to the constant drain of spirit caused by the spell and he would work alone, deep into the night. His concern for her well being ignited a fire within him that would not be extinguished. Piece by piece they unraveled the spell until discovering the flaw.
Each spell, each piece of magic requires balance. Ayella achieved balance with the Shiaatsa life force energies. Her life force balancing the life force of the forest.
The spell was like a line on a page. At one end was Ayella's life force, at the other, the forest. In her ignorance Ayella somehow managed to tap into the power to transmute objects, to transform life, because in order to complete her spell and grant the forest a certain level of sentience and discernment, she changed the forest of individual trees into one collective living being. A totally new form of life. So a new line was formed from the original line without an equivalent line in opposition. Leaving the spell unbalanced; similar to a Y shape.
Something would have to be transfigured on Ayella's end of the spell in order to achieve balance. Ideally, it would be the power source of the spell. However, Ayella could not attempt to transfigure herself. That would be folly, even for a master of the art such as himself. Even a normal self transfiguration would be painful but with her entire being focused on the spell linking her to the forest, any attempt on her part would be fatal.
Painfully so.
To be transfigured by another brought no pain but to transfigure oneself was excruciating. This was because for a brief time the spirit would be split, trapped between forms, that of the one casting and the one becoming, the sensations would be akin to bathing in fire.
Lysander also learned if an alternate source of power could be found other than the life force within Ayella, she would never have to worry about the side affects of the spell again. She would be able to live a normal life. This was important to him because he found that he could not imagine his life without her in it. Working beside her each day, smelling her skin, being filled with her spirit, her joyfulness, her empathy and courage; he was unable to resist.
He loved her.
With all his heart, he loved her. Sensing she had feelings for him as well he courted them judiciously.
He told her what he discovered and then shared his plan. If they could transfer the spells anchor from Ayella's life force to the force of his love for her then they could transmute their love, transforming the emotional energies into a blossoming willow tree thus having a sentient forest at one end of the spell and a physical manifestation of their love- the power source- as the opposite anchor, achieving a balance. Ayella agreed.
She had been so young, then; but her power was so great and her courage so strong he blinded himself to her age. That had perhaps been his undoing. Her grasp of her own power, her dedication to her people and her commitment to others had enchanted him. He loved her so much. If, perhaps, he had not been blinded by his love for her and his desire to possess her love as his own, he would have considered, perhaps she was too young to love an old man such as himself. After all, he was ten years her senior.
But love can make fools of even the most cautious and so the night came.
Trusting in the strength and purity of his love for Ayella, not allowing himself to question hers, he summoned the powers at his command. Reaching beyond the fabric of reality and seeking to bend it to his will. He held her fragile hands in his own as she concentrated on her own task, summoning up all the powers of the Shiaatsa, the powers drawn from her own life force and that of the forest.
Light crackled around them both, hers white and brilliant and his blue and bold; they merged and mingled, braiding together, twisting cords of power forming a flaming halo of magical radiance around them. Within the gloriole of power beside them they focused their love on the image of a sapling, the physical expression of their love for each other; it sprouted, elongating, twigs growing, roots stretching hungrily toward the earth. Leaves blossomed, vibrant, green, alive. The bark was a deep, rich brown. Gradually it expanded in size, until it was the length and breadth of a child.
And then, something went wrong.
Green sparks spit and hissed from the two distinctly different magical forces merging and the leaves on the sapling began to whither and die. Quickly Lysander reviewed his calculations; he knew there was nothing wrong with the spell. His love for Ayella was beyond doubt; he would die for her. It looked as if they might both die, there, in the circle their combined power formed. The salvation Ayella so yearned for her people would now be their grave if he did not figure out what was wrong. He shot desperate Ebony eyes toward Ayella whose face was a fierce mask of concentration as she struggled valiantly to maintain the spells cohesion. Understanding washed over him like a warm tide.
She didn't love him.
She thought she did. She said all the right things acted the right way, she was drawn to him certainly. Felt affection toward him, yes. Admired him for his power and his courage.
But that was not love.
Lysander gazed onto the face of the woman he had come to cherish above all life even his own, knowing she was about to die and he did the only thing he could.
He saved her.
With a last gentle squeeze to her hand he released one of them to grasp the dying sapling and transfigured himself. The pain was agonizing. His skin melted from his body as the sapling merged with his spirit. He felt his body shrivel in on itself and reform. He knew if he cried out Ayella would lose concentration, the spell would be incomplete and he would die and she would spend what was left of her life in and out of awareness before joining him in that eternal abyss. He kept his silence.
The pain was brutal in its intensity; slamming violently into every nerve ending in his body, searing his lungs and devouring his breath, he felt his organs grinding and shifting, flames of hungry suffering licked greedily up his limbs, his entire body spasming in such horrific anguish as the magic seemed to feed off his form. Bringing all his years of self discipline to bear he bit back the screams of tormented misery and focused instead on her and the love he felt. For his sacrifice she would live. And in the end, that was all that mattered to him.
Her life.
He yearned for the sweet embrace of death but did not give in. He counted instead each shining strand of silver-white hair on her head. He found himself remembering the reflection of starlight in her amethyst eyes, when she laughed as moonlight caressed the pale smooth skin of her face, glowing ethereally off the gentle curve of her cheek and graceful arch of her neck as they strolled in the gardens on cool wintry evenings. He spent the countless and endless seconds poised between life and death wishing he could hold her to him one last time, this woman he loved. The woman who would die if he failed in this task. He reached out to stroke her silky hair once more with his own hand but it was not to be and he let his new and unhuman hand fall away.
She was unaware of his anguish, his torment as he changed into a broom. A witch's companion- he changed her as well, he had no choice, the spells power was now bound to both her life force and his love. It was twice as strong as before but for balance to be achieved she had to change as well. He couldn't bare to rob her of her humanity however, he made her instead his vision of Ceridwen; mother of the natural world. He felt it fitting since she willingly bound her fate with that of a forest. No longer human he was now the product of his life and his love, combined with the tree form that love had taken. She was lost in her own web of magic and did not feel the new course his took and when his change was complete he felt her power wash over him, a soothing balm of warmth and light, caressing his shivering form, locking him into his new shape for eternity, forming the last line of balance in the spell.
It was done- the spell was now an X in form; Broom and Raz forming two lines at one end as the power source of the spell and at the other end was the forest as it once was and as it had changed according to their need. The forest, in its new sentience enhanced form, they later learned, spawned the twiggets.
Ayella opened her eyes, gazing in confusion at the broom before her.
Broom never told her why the spell failed.
He blamed it on a miscalculation on his part. He left her the next day, hoping she would move on with her life and find love, a real love and not feel bound to him by duty or guilt. He met her again three hundred years later. The spell granting them both the life span of a forest so neither aged much but to his deep dismay he discovered that because the spells power still came from her life force- though she no longer experienced periodic bouts of unconsciousness, she continued having lapses in concentration. He never left her side again.
Lately, with the influx of refugees she began dipping deeper into her well of power than she ever had before and Broom was afraid. Even after a thousand years he still loved her. He was helpless to aid her however for his powers were locked tightly in the spell that kept Madame and him alive and the whispering woods sentient. He feared that one day she would dip too far and too deep into her magical resources and discover they had run dry. Then she would be unable to return to him.
The years had changed her- to be sure. She was short and fat and dumpy with age, the image of Ceridwen he had given her; but when Broom looked at her he saw her with the eyes of love and he saw that she was possessed of the same fire in her soul that burned one thousand years ago. The same passion for her people, the same empathy for their pain and the same selfless love for her planet. When Broom looked at the sleeping witch in his arms he saw the most beautiful woman on Etheria.
He wished She-Ra were here. She could help ease the plight of the refugees from Madame's shoulders. But she wasn't there and Madame was the only hope many of them had. Come morning Glimmer would leave the forest and return to her rebel camp in Spikeheart if she hadn't already done so and Madame would once again be alone and responsible for the fate of the people in the Whispering woods.