Chapter Thirty-One –
To the Black Gate
When all the world is destined to come to darkness, what will you do…?
Jaedin groaned softly as he swam back up out of the black void of unconsciousness, slowly becoming aware of sound, touch, and his other senses once again.
There was a strong smell of herbs in the air, such as were used in medicine and in scenting the stale air of a sick room, and he could tell that the warm light of a candle – or a lamp, was it? – was somewhere nearby him, even through his closed eyelids.
It became obvious to him, in that moment: he was no longer on the battlefield.
He also perceived that he was lying upon a bed of some sort, and that he no longer wore his torn and stained black silk shirt, cloak, and leather breeches. Even his boots had been removed, and in their place, he felt crisp linen against his skin, the comforting smoothness of a sheet and blanket on top of it. There was movement about him, and the murmuring of carefully lowered, gentle voices every now and then.
Now fully unable to bear remaining lying down with his eyes closed for a moment longer, the Dark Lord of Sytherria opened his eyes and raised himself on one elbow, his head turning slowly upon his preternaturally graceful neck as he gazed about himself, taking in his surroundings.
Indeed, this was no battlefield; it appeared that he and Elowyn had been removed from their collapsed position in the shelter of the wrecked chariot, by some of their comrades – though he knew not whom.
The princess, he saw, lay on a bed that had been placed across from his, a little ways off. She was sleeping soundly, her curls flowing in a shining golden burst across the white pillowcase that her head rested upon; she had one of her hands under her head, curled up into a fist just below her chin, and her cheeks were flushed rosily in the cheerful lamplight. He let his gaze remain upon her for a little while then, content to simply watch her sleep.
The room that they were in, he surmised, was one of the more or less undamaged chambers within the Academy. It appeared that it might have once been a dormitory for the young students, but had now been converted into a sort of infirmary in the wake of the battle. He marked that he and Elowyn were not the only inhabitants of the place – on the other beds nearby lay the figures of the wounded, with healers and nurses moving in and out of the early morning shadows, tending to various needs.
Jaedin lay back upon the bed, as a slight dizzy wave rolled over him.
The battle…He'd destroyed Arranus; that, at least, put his heart at ease – knowing that one of his most despised enemies had been obliterated…then he had sensed that Elowyn was in danger, and had gone to her aid. Skullex had been attempting to drag her off, even as the dark army began its retreat…or had they been moving back, only to rally together for a final, devastating attack? He didn't know – and he hadn't left himself, or anyone else, time to guess.
Before his very eyes, he had seen Elowyn mistreated in a way that had turned the blood within his veins to white-hot magma. And without a moment's further thought, he had brought all of his powers to bear and summoned a killing force that had wiped out the entire enemy army.
Each of the Academy's defenders had survived; he'd made certain of that before calling down the blast of power from the blackened night sky. They had all been sent falling to the ground by the cataclysmic force of the shockwave, but none had been directly harmed.
The effort of it, however, had taken almost all of his strength. Turning against the Queen who held the essence of his life in her hands was not without its repercussions, as he well knew, but he had had no choice. This time, though, he was not about to struggle against it.
Sometimes, a single choice was all one could be afforded, and it meant death otherwise. He wouldn't have risked that.
Not now.
As he lay there, motionless and deep in thought, he turned his head upon the pillow and looked across at Elowyn.
Still, she slept.
It was early in the morning, he ascertained from the gray rectangle that was in the stone wall across the room from him. Dawn had not yet arisen, but somehow he felt in his heart that they would see none of the bright rays of the sun that day. A bleak day, for the mind-numbing aftermath of a horrific battle. Jaedin had seen battlefields before – oh, so many! – but this morning, he knew that he would not be able to face well the sight of the destruction that lay just beyond the walls of his current dwelling.
Around him, even within this room that appeared to be relatively undisturbed, he could see the markings of the battle when he took a moment to look at it – here and there, he glimpsed burn marks on the book shelves, gashes in the wooden bed legs and headboards, shattered panes in the glass windows. Evidence of a terrible struggle was everywhere, and he could not escape from it. A battle had been fought, and good had triumphed – but at a high price.
When he closed his eyes, he could still hear the screams, the high-pitched, pitiful screams of frightened children and the cries of the wounded…
He chose not to close his eyes anymore.
As he sat up, stiffly, on his bed, an Elven healer took note of his movement and began to approach him. Jaedin straightened, proudly and rigidly: still unwilling for the people who had so long been his enemies to see that he was markedly drained of both strength and power. I must reach the Black City, and within days…
The Elf came to stand beside him, looking down into the Dark Lord's violet-flecked gray eyes. He was tall and fair of face, this Elf – as most of the magic-gifted and immortal Sentient races happened to be – with unlined, lightly tanned skin that almost seemed to give off an unnatural, ethereal golden glow, piercing blue eyes, and sleek, long strawberry-blond hair that he wore braided back, warrior-style.
Right now, those bright blue eyes crinkled a bit at their sides as their owner smiled, cheerfully but gently, and greeted the awakened patient—
"So you have awakened!"
Then he made a courteous bow and introduced himself: "I am Liowaihr. I trust your sleep has restored you – how do you feel this morning, my lord?"
At this, the vampyre's regal, handsome face took on a sour twist, and he grumbled, "Very stiff, and not quite myself, thank you."
Impervious to the terseness and – it must be said – the rudeness of that blunt, borderline caustic reply, the Elf merely smiled again and said, "Ah, but I do believe that we have just the thing here for that."
And he went across the room to a small table, returning with a tall glass in one hand, which he held out to Jaedin. The vampyre's eyes gleamed at him, filled with skepticism and even tad bit distrust.
"Before you even start to think that I'm actually going to drink this," Jaedin said, slowly and convincingly, "I'd like you to tell me what it is. Exactly."
The Elf's grin widened, and he revealed, laughingly, "Only an unheated draught of tea that we make here at the Academy, courtesy of a recipe that one of our previous Healer graduates came up with several decades ago. It is mainly employed as a restorative, and I assure you, it won't do you any harm – you must drink the whole thing, however, for it to affect your system."
Jaedin raised a still disbelieving eyebrow, but took the glass and tipped his head back to do as he was wished to. As he did so, Liowaihr added, as an afterthought, "But you might not like the taste of it very much."
Well, the Dark Lord didn't.
However the 'restorative tea' was made, the end result wasn't quite the typical stereotype of tea. It reminded Jaedin of a mixture of eucalyptus and gooseberries, with a heavy cream and sage tea, and a liberal dose of finely-chopped – was it parsley leaves? – herbs added in as well. When the healer gave his warning, it was already too late for him to avoid the nasty surprise, and he was obliged to swallow down the whole glassful.
The horrid deed done, he pushed the glass into his tormentor's hands and gasped in the air, glaring at the Elf resentfully. Before he could rasp out any sort of biting remark, however, he became aware of the fact that someone was looking at him in vast amusement, and then he heard her laugh from behind him. Liowaihr's blue eyes were dancing as his gaze slid over Jaedin's shoulder and to the person who was now sitting up in her bed beyond them.
"You'd better be glad that it doesn't take an effect right away," came her sweetly melodious voice then, full of merry laughter, and Jaedin swung around to face her, as the Healer Elf bowed and backed away, respectfully.
Then Jaedin and his princess were left alone – or relatively alone, as their side of the infirmary had fewer inhabitants than the other side. Elowyn's smile now held only tenderness and affection as she gazed into his face, knowing and cherishing the familiar sight of each feature, each contour and detail.
Her eyes, though, beneath their immediate shimmering green surface, held a depth of both sorrow and pain within them, and he was immediately out of his bed, taking the single step that was required to bring him to her side, seating himself beside her on the edge of her bed. She crumbled against him, softly beginning to sob, as he wrapped his arms around her, rocking the both of them back and forth, gently but desperately running his fingers through her silky pale gold hair as he murmured his name for her over and over again.
"Merron nenein, sahk-ta su aman…"
Then, further in his own tongue, "Alya evis li varyor; neztim ghalor, lairata…Hush now dear sweet one; the nightmare is flown, weep not…"
"They've died; so many of those innocent little ones, so many of the brave ones who fought for them…" she whispered, her breath hot against the skin of his chest where the collar of his white linen nightshirt exposed it. "Is this what we are struggling for, Jaedin…a world where everything will come to death? I can't stop thinking of them – I dreamed of them so many times in the night…so many horrible, bloody dreams…"
"Shh."
He raised a finger to her lips, silencing her.
"The world is destined for an end other than death – much better than death, and you know this, in your heart, Elowyn. You mustn't let fall tears of despair, precious one: the sky threatens to weep along with you, when it should not. The suffering of the wounded and even the deaths of the innocent have not been in vain – they are not without cause. You know this as well."
Taking all this in, she inhaled: long and slowly, and he rearranged his hold on her, so that he was leaning against the pillow-mounded headboard, supporting the both of them. As his habit had become in moments of idle, distracted thought, his fingers ran through her hair, with an expert deftness that lulled her into serenity again.
At length, she turned her head, resting the side of her face against his collarbone so that her head was directly under his chin – fitting there as if it had always been meant to, from the very beginnings of time…
"Jaedin?" she murmured.
"Mmm…" was his only reply, and, as she looked up at him, into his sharply formed profile, she saw that his gaze had become distant.
"What are we meant for, you and I?"
It was a question that had an obvious answer, and she knew it – but, perhaps, right at that moment, she wasn't looking for the most obvious answer.
And he didn't give it to her.
"Forever, Princess," he told her, as he bent his head to softly brush his lips against her pale, cold brow: feeling her skin flush warm beneath his touch, which fueled his desire to kiss her, which he did – simply, and sweetly. Elowyn's arms went around his neck, pulling him closer to her, and then they were silent for a long while.
Then…
"That is what we are meant for – forever."
* * *
As was common in times of war, when a battle had been fought but the destruction of those who fought for good had been averted, a time of rebuilding and regeneration would now begin. The Academy had been violently ravaged, inside and out, and the marks of the fierce struggle that had taken place at it would remain for long, perhaps even many years, even with the aid of faery and Elven powers.
The restoration process had already begun by the time that Elowyn and Jaedin found their way out of the healing room and went in search of their friends. Everywhere around them, they saw the survivors of the battle occupied both with treating the wounded, clearing off the debris and wreckage, and tending the dead.
The bodies of the enemy army were carted out to the wide field where a good part of the latter half of the battle had taken place, after the death of the dark army's general, and soon a great cloud of smoke rose into the sky, as torches were set to the corpses. The remains of those who belonged to the Academy were preserved and then sent to the four winds as ashes from the funeral pyres, as was the White Realm's way.
On the parapet that overlooked the chasm separating the Academy from the lands beyond it, a group of faeries and elves stood: watching the twin columns of smoke drift into the gray clouds overhead. All were silent, and solemn with deep and profound grief, and knowledge of what was to come. Their comrades who had fallen within the battle, it was widely thought then, were the fortunate ones. They would not have to remain in the world as it turned to the imminent war between good and evil.
But at least five of those figures upon the wall knew that, come what may in the course of the war, the world would not be cast to the darkness.
Jaedin stood beside Elowyn, one arm draped about her slender waist: holding her close to his side, as their cloaks – hers dark red, his black – snapped as one in the wind. Both gazed out over the plains beyond them, and both knew that they were thinking of the same thing – of the treacherous mountain landscape of the region that they would be forced to enter in the course of their quest. With them, on either side, stood their loyal comrades: Robbie, Sala, and Brendan, with a few other members of the Academy.
Many had been killed in the hours of the night past – children, youths, commoners and royalty, the wicked and the upright. The cruel hand of Death had made no distinction between species, age, rank, or form.
And now they had the day to face.
One by one, the figures began to leave their place at the wall, as the smoke from the funeral pyres began to clear away. Then, all whom were left were the original five adventurers, who would now turn their minds to the future.
Brendan spoke first, saying the words that Elowyn's friends knew had to be said.
"Our quest has come to a single choice, yet again," he said, looking at first Jaedin, and then Elowyn, directly in the eyes. "For we cannot now all continue on it together – it is needed that a warning be carried to those of our comrades who do not yet know that the war has, at last, begun. Yet we cannot abandon our journey to the Black City, for we cannot risk the sundering of the lands of magic and enchantment from the lands of mortality. What is our course?"
Then there was silence.
"I will continue on to the Dark Gate, and then to the Black City, with the Princess Elowyn – if she will go with me," Jaedin said, in a low voice. "We will retrieve the binding spell together, and then I will return her to the White Realm."
And somehow, as Elowyn heard those words, she sensed that he did not mean to accompany her there; her heart began to quail within her. No! Jaedin, I will not live without you – you must not ask me to!
But Brendan was nodding in assent; her other friends did likewise.
"You are the only ones of us who can enter there without risking great danger, though it would seem otherwise, owing to the words of the Prophecy," he replied. "Very well then – this is your quest, and ours shall be to return through the lands of Elvendome and our other allies, and alert them to the coming attacks."
Jaedin nodded and bowed, his eyes dark and expressionless. He reached to take Elowyn's hand, drawing her along with him as he stepped away.
"Go with the will of the Three," he said, and Brendan nodded to him.
"And you as well."
Then Jaedin briefly released her hand, allowing Elowyn to run forward and embrace her friends, as it finally became clear to her that she might not see any of them again, might not be able to touch them or hold them or speak to them again, for a very long time.
And this frightened her almost more than becoming aware of the aftermath of the battle – though not as much as something else…
Unable to bear the pain of such separation for a moment longer, she quickly released them and then returned to Jaedin, her fingers wrapping around his with a savage intensity that revealed to him well just what state her mind and heart were in.
They looked back at their companions once again, and left the wall.
Bereft of the speedy transport of the Apocalypse, which was – even as they readied themselves for departure – returning the students to their homes, where they would remain with their families until they could be called back to their studies, Jaedin and Elowyn would have to once again travel on horseback.
Or so they thought.
As they scraped together provisions and the necessary supplies for their journey, which would take them back into Sytherria, over the deserts until they reached the Dark Gate, the pair were surprised by not one but two remarkable gifts from the heads of the school. The first was a pair of the legendary Seven League Boots: given to them by none other than Orlando and Arielle, who had acquired them in the first place from a marauding giant, some time before.
Arielle warned them, however, "The power within them will only last for so long; as there are two of you for them to carry, they will soon wear out, and you will have to wait until they have regained their magic-potency. Travel wisely."
Next, there were two invisible cloaks. Orlando handed one to Jaedin: Arielle giving the other to Elowyn, as the faery prince told them, "These will make you virtually undetectable by any eyes, even those of the Ebony Queen. Even whatever noise you make, whatever you touch or move, no one will see, or sense."
Then Elowyn and Jaedin bade them all farewell, and made their way together out of the Academy, pausing only when they stood on the other side of the abyss that spanned between it and the mountain-lined plains. Elowyn felt a knot rising in her throat, but she quickly swallowed it.
Hope: hope always remained.
This would not be the end; she would see her friends again, and, in the meantime, she would do everything that she could to save them. She could only pray that she would have the strength, the faith, to carry on.
And somehow, as she looked at Jaedin, she sensed that she would.
Ironic as that might have seemed…
He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, cracking a bit of a wry smile that was surely his attempt to make her laugh, to prod and tease her out of her grief.
"Shall we, Princess?" he asked, and she did smile.
Her Dark Lord was simply irresistible.
"Indeed, we shall, Dark One."
Scarcely two minutes later, they were forty-nine leagues away.
* * *
I am everywhere, and I am nowhere –
You have me within you, but you cannot see me.
What am I?
Jaedin gave a snort of laughter, shaking his head in wry amusement.
"That's simple," he said, in his most superior manner. "It's Air."
The Seven League Boots had lost their power several hours before, and it was now mid-afternoon. Jaedin and Elowyn had elected to simply walk while waiting, instead of sitting around idly, and, oddly enough, they'd fallen into firing various riddles back and forth at one another.
Elowyn, piqued by the vampyre's all-knowing air – and the fact that he had managed to give her the answer to each one of her riddles within seconds of her speaking them – eyed him narrowly, as she said, "You're either cheating, or you simply know too much – the only reason why I haven't figured out any of yours right off is because I've not been alive for five hundred thousand years."
"Or you might consider that I am merely talented," he replied, slyly, shooting her the look out of the corner of his eye that sent thrills up and down her spine.
However, there was a question of honour at stake here.
She held her chin up, proudly, and requested that he give her his own riddle. Jaedin halted, pausing them in their walk through the vast wood that they had now found themselves within, and considered for a moment.
He nearly blended in with the dark trees with his black attire, as he stood against the trunk of a particularly mammoth evergreen, which would have taken the arms of at least eleven full grown men to span. Elowyn was silent, patiently waiting, as she watched him think. She'd have to give him time, if she wanted her riddle.
Finally, then, he put one to her.
"Once, two dwarves happened to walk into a tavern somewhere. Sometime in their past, they had both done something to markedly offended the owner and barkeep, to such a degree that he – upon seeing them – decided to have his vengeance. Both dwarves requested the exact same beverage, and were served at the exact same time. Neither of the tumblers was different in any way. However, just as the pair was getting up to leave the tavern, one of the two fell down and was, in a moment, pronounced dead by his astonished companion. Now, Princess," and he turned to her, his dark left eyebrow arching as his well-known smirk curved his lips, "How did he meet with his death?"
Elowyn took a moment to mull over the story.
Then, with lightning-fast quickness of wit, she revealed, "He was poisoned."
Jaedin's gray eyes gleamed a bit, in exultation.
"And how is this so?"
She made a gesture that brushed off the mysteriousness of the whole scenario, and told him, "The barkeep put poison into the ice that was in both of their tankards; however, the first dwarf downed his drink before the ice had had time to melt, whereas his companion waited. The poison only affected the second dwarf, who died whilst his companion lived to a ripe old age of a hundred and eighty years."
Then, she paused for thought, her green eyes sparkling with impishness.
"And the mean old barkeep lost all his business soon afterwards, when it was discovered that he kept an assortment of poisons – and not just the kind employed for dispensing with rats – underneath the cabinet in the kitchen. He was forced to go earn a living threshing in the fields, and was never heard of again."
"You have my applause, Princess. I hold a great and profound respect for your storytelling skills," her companion told her, with a subtly arrogant tilt of his head: looking down at her with an air of appraising delight.
"Now, my friend," Elowyn continued, after shooting him a look that half said Watch it, and half invited him to say more, "I have what I think may be a more perplexing riddle for you. You are traveling along a road when you come to a fork in it. Here, two old bearded men stand: identical in appearance, but you know that they are different inwardly, for one of them will always tell the truth, and the other will always lie, although you do not know what man always lies and what man always tells the truth. Now, you wish to learn which road will lead you to your destination, and which way will lead you to your doom – which of the men will you ask?"
Jaedin shrugged, haughtily.
"Neither," he replied. "I'd be too busy asking myself how the blazes I got to such a world in the first place."
Elowyn stabbed an accusing finger at him while she let the air ring with her clear, girlish laughter that was like the pealing of silver bells.
"You just don't want to answer the question!" she surmised.
"I never said that."
"You didn't have to."
Jaedin made a low growling noise in the back of his throat, glaring at her – playfully, so, but with enough of a convincing depth to make her back away a bit, casting about for a way to evade him.
"You mock me – I warn you, Princess, that is not wise."
But she only danced further out of his reach, beaming like a pixie at him all the while, as she sang back to him, "Wise? When have I ever been wise? I am only a youngster in the eyes of my kin; I am not expected to be wise yet…"
And they journeyed further into the forest.
The trees here were truly remarkable. Thick and tall they grew all about the pair of travelers: gigantic and dark in girth with their branches grown so tall that they seemed like to pierce the sky, although neither Jaedin nor Elowyn could catch a true glimpse of the heavens above themselves for all they were worth. However, here and there were patches of sunlight upon the bright green ground, warm golden shards that glanced down through the heavy shadows, exposing hints of the forest floor.
Jaedin, although Elowyn did not know it, had his hand on his sword hilt at all times.
They were drawing near to Sytherria; he could sense the slowly changing atmosphere of the land about them, and he knew that the forests that stretched from Elvendome into his own land were not to be trusted. In Sytherria, even the simplest flora and fauna could become dangerous. Which was why, right at that moment, he was becoming increasingly aware of just how far the seemingly harmless five feet that separated him from Elowyn was beginning to feel to him. His sense of premonition was pounding at him.
"Princess…"
She turned, pale golden curls whirling about her with her movement, and he caught his breath at her beauty, even as he beckoned for her to come back to him. As she did, obediently, he reached out and took her hand in his, instantly relieved – and exhilarated – by the feel of her small, slender fingers against his palm.
"We should not go far apart now," he warned her, all playfulness and teasing having left his tone. "These woods are not safe – we draw near to Sytherria."
She nodded, understanding.
"Then I shall remain close to you."
They journeyed on for a long while in silence then, listening to the almost oppressively heavy silence in the forest around them. Jaedin had never been overtly fond of darting dragonflies and pastel-hued butterflies, softly spotted fawns and does, or croaking frogs and noisy splashing beavers, but right at that moment, he would have given nearly anything to hear some noise – to see some movement – other than that caused by himself and his companion.
He glanced to the side and saw that Elowyn's eyes had begun to droop closed a bit, and he felt her grip becoming slack in his hand.
With that, he stopped them.
"I think, sweet one," he told her, "That we ought to pause here for a while. You grow weary, and I feel the weight of this forest's dead silence pulling at my own mind. We might rest, while we wait for the boots to regain their power."
Elowyn nodded, too lost in the realm of her own thoughts and the sudden weariness that had overtaken her to object.
So Jaedin looked about them then, searching for a good place to rest: his gray eyes finally lighting upon the curve of an enormous tree root nearby. It sloped down on a little knoll to the ground, covered with a thick blanket of velvety emerald moss. A shaft of sunlight had somehow managed to pierce through the thick tree branches overhead, drawing the eye to the inviting little nook. Gently, he tugged on Elowyn's hand and led them both over to it.
He seated himself first, spreading out his cloak so that it covered an ample portion of the ground, and then he beckoned to her again, to take a seat beside him.
This she did, willingly enough, and soon they'd made themselves comfortable: him sitting a little further up on the slight rise in the ground, his back against the tree's rough trunk, and her curled up against him, with her head fitting perfectly into the curve between his shoulder and side. Jaedin felt her hand moving, to slowly and shyly slide itself across his chest until it lay directly over his heart; he watched then as she closed her eyes, her lips curving a bit at the comforting beat against her palm.
Carefully, he gathered the edge of his cloak between his fingertips and lifted it from the ground, to draw it over her: covering and shielding her from anything else that might exist in the forest. From her silky hair drifted the calming, familiar scent of chamomile and neroli, and he savored the delicate touch of her hand on his chest, the warmth of her against him.
He turned his gaze out into the forest.
Nothing will harm her while I am here, he told it: fully meaning the words as an unbreakable, solemn vow. Nothing will sunder me from her side. I am here.
And then he began to keep watch over the forest, while his princess slept.
* * *
Hours later, Elowyn awakened. Around her, she could still see the pale drifts of sunlight splashing down onto the bright green grass, and the air seemed to be filled with a sweet, musky fragrance and calm that nearly sent her back to sleep again. Sleep, the forest's voice seemed to tell her. Close thine eyes, young one, and sleep; return unto the dreams that were spun within thy maiden heart…
But something kept her from surrendering to it again. She'd already been asleep for a long while – she knew not how long, but she did not truly want to return to her slumber again just yet.
Cautiously, she lifted her head a bit, inclining it back on her neck so that she could look up at the one who held her.
Jaedin had let his own head drop back to rest on the tree behind him, and his eyes were closed, long lashes resting softly against his skin. How she wanted to reach out and turn his face towards her, and tenderly touch her lips to his, in that moment.
That would wake him, though, and she knew that he needed sleep just as much as she did, if they were to continue their journey.
At their feet, she saw the Seven League boots – as Arielle had told them, the leather soles were giving off a faint shower of sparkles, signifying that their magical power had returned to its proper strength. But…but waking him and continuing on their journey could wait for but a little while longer; right now, she was almost as utterly happy and content as she could be.
Then, movement in the corner of her vision caught the princess's eye, and she bemusedly glanced up, casually wondering what had caused it—
Elowyn's scream wrenched Jaedin from his sleep.
In an instant he sat up, eyes snapping open, and looked towards where he sensed the cause of her terror had come from – and he immediately knew why. The flash of dingy, matted white fur that abruptly disappeared behind the tree was all that he needed to see.
He shot out a hand, a blast of killing power springing forth from his fingertips, but he was uncertain if it ever connected with his intended target: the menace had gone.
Turning back to Elowyn, he found the girl in complete, and fully justifiable hysterics. Her words tumbled over one another as she shook like a leaf in his arms, her mind utterly overthrown with fright. "What was that thing, what was it," she was saying, her movements jerky and unpredictable as she writhed against him. "What was it, where is it; Jaedin, it looked at me, it looked at me and its eyes were full of blood, little glittering drops of blood…" and she continued to tremble violently.
Hastily, he put a hand to her forehead, splaying his fingertips out so that his entire hand covered her forehead, and briefly closed his eyes, breathing a few words in vampyric. Then, a little tremor of invisible power went through the air, and Elowyn abruptly left off her convulsing, and looked at him, her eyes clear again.
"Jaedin," she murmured to him, seeming confused, "What happened?"
He looked at her with both relief and darkness in his eyes.
"You awakened, and saw a fell creature nearby us – it was an Ikti, a nasty two-legged carnivore of the Dark Realm, and had you not caught it there by looking at it, and then frightening it off with your scream, it might have attempted to make an end of us."
Then he paused, drew a deep breath.
"These woods are truly perilous, as I told you. Elowyn, I took away your memory of it."
She stared at him, as she tried to process all of this news, still perplexed by the fact that she was now suddenly awake, and felt as if she was missing some part of her. Then, she quickly shook her head, and focused her penetrating jade-green gaze on him again. Jaedin gazed back, hoping that she would be able to pardon his actions.
"You can do that?" she asked him.
And he nodded.
"Only when I must."
Now he gave her his hand and assisted them both in rising; they stood there, together, for a moment amidst the tree roots, and suddenly Elowyn shivered, drawing close to him for comfort. Upon looking with intense concentration into her own mind, she could sense the vague memory of a great, momentary terror there, but only a shadow of that memory had been left – like the impression of a footprint upon the sand at the seaside, when a wave has just washed over it.
Whatever it was that she had seen – the Ikti, he had called it – it must have been an awful creature, in order for the mere sight of it to produce such an effect upon her. Dissolved memory or not, she was grateful to her dark guardian for acting so quickly to aid her.
"Jaedin."
She thrust her face against his chest again, her arms moving to wrap around his slender, hard waist underneath his cloak, squeezing tight against him. She felt him move to do the same, and listened for a moment to the reassuring pulsations of his heart.
"Don't ever leave me. Stay with me, please stay."
He was silent for a while, and then he moved his hand to tip her chin back with his fingertips, gazing deeply and searchingly into her eyes.
"You would set yourself against them for me?" he asked her, gently.
Her eyes scanned back and forth across his face.
"I would do anything for you," she swore, and he knew – then – that she meant it: meant it with the very essence, with every last strength, of her life.
He wanted to kiss her; every atom in his being cried out for him to do so, but he somehow felt, again, that he could not succumb to it, at that moment. So, instead, he merely pulled her back to him with an ardent zeal that had never been matched by any other man to embrace her, ever. Elowyn closed her eyes, and knew that he would never let her go.
They were together, come what may.
* * *
Whumph!
And the two travelers came jerking to yet another violent stop, holding onto one another as they attempted to steady themselves. Jaedin was muttering under his breath in vampyric – then in dwarvish, and even Elvish, combining the languages as he sought to give vent to his emotions at that moment – as he grasped her arm, keeping her upright. Finally, Elowyn looked up at him, her hair and clothing in disarray.
Traveling with Seven League Boots was never guaranteed to be easy.
Now, as they looked around themselves, they saw that they were at last nearing the fringes of the forest. The trees around them had become noticeably smaller and fewer, and now the air was open and fresh, and they could see the twilight sky.
It was chilly as well, and Elowyn was thankful that she wore a soft chenille jersey underneath her broadcloth shirt and woolen tunic, and that she also had her thick, hooded cloak and scarf. When she breathed, she marked that the puffs of air from her lips showed as little clouds of steam; on the carpet of red, yellow, orange, and brown leaves that lay thickly upon the ground she could see a fringe of pale white-gray frost.
Autumn had come.
Beside her, Jaedin stirred slightly; he was looking around, coolly and impassively, at the forest that surrounded them, his gray eyes taking in everything – missing nothing. She began to wonder if he was always aware of reality, even in his sleep…but then, something in her memory discounted that. No, he was simply a predator: gifted with the senses and intuition of both the wolf and the dragon, and she could be safe with him as she might be with none other.
Suddenly he turned and found her staring at him. His full lips twitched into a little smile, and she felt a blush kindle upon the apples of her cheeks.
"Come, Princess," he said to her. "I think that it is time that we leave off the use of those abominably rough boots, and give our battered frames a chance to recover."
Then they sat down a fallen log and removed the boots: one from his right foot, and the other from her left. They'd been able to travel a good part of the day, haphazardly lurching along the first seven, then fourteen – twenty-one – twenty-eight, and now a full one hundred forty-seven leagues. The jerking motion with which the boots took off, dragging their wearers along after them when each step had been made, had very quickly worn upon them, however, and they had always been glad for the chance to walk, when it came.
Not all of Sytherria, apparently, was a blazing hot desert realm. They had crossed over the border a long while before, and yet still forest and mountains surrounded them, though the land would once again become composed of all rolling sand dunes when they came down out of the mountains.
As they moved along, Jaedin asked her if she would hear of the country's history; they had, as they both well knew, not much else to do besides either walking in silence or conversing with one another, and she chose the latter. Night fell over them as he revealed to her the history of the realm that he hailed from.
Sytherria had never been united under the rule of a single ruler, he said; in fact, it had never seen any sort of monarch or royalty in all of the time of its existence. Instead, its inhabitants, who were few and nomadic, had existed in a relatively peaceful way of life as wandering tribes until the Dark Realm had learnt of the country's advantages. No army would dare to enter those mirage-filled, deadly wastes of sand and rock; no enemy would desire to take the time to cross the deserts. This resulted in the building of the first Dark Gate, which was located in the north-easternmost corner of the land.
Soon afterwards, the other eleven had been built, as the power of the Dark Realm grew in the world. Odd it was, he noted, almost more to himself than to her, that everyone knew of when the Dark Realm first began to plague the world with its evil – and yet no one could remember when it had first come into being.
Perhaps this was because there remained very few alive who had seen its formation, in the Dark Realm or the White.
After the Dark Gate had been built, the time period where the first fracases between the rival worlds of magic and immortality had begun, bringing Sytherria into its current age, where both the Child of Prophecy and the Dark One existed. So much time had passed, and yet so much in the world had remained the same – and so much had changed. Where would they go now, as the events of the war escalated into open confrontations? How would the Prophecy of World's End be fulfilled?
Neither of them could answer that question, nor did they have time to, for Jaedin suddenly stopped them both, his eyes focusing on something out in the horizon with a queer, almost frightening intensity that immediately directed Elowyn's gaze in the same direction. She felt the very core of her being turn to ice then.
"I've never known them to move so very far…" Jaedin said, his voice a mere breathless, almost disbelieving murmur. He shook his head, his eyes still riveted on the object in the horizon: a massive obelisk of black stone, gleaming malevolently in the last drops of the blood-red sunlight.
"There, Princess, lies our way: the Dark Gate."
Down the hill that they stood atop of, weaving their way through the trees, the craggy mountainside itself, and onto the boulder-ridden valley floor they went. Ever nearer the huge monument drew to them, until it was looming – heavy, black, and ominous – over their heads.
A little less than fifty feet away from it, Elowyn stopped: hanging back in sudden transfixion as she stared up at it.
The world seemed to blur before her, and mute itself, until she could only see the smooth, slippery black surface of the great stone thing before her. Engraved in it were runes – words in the most ancient speech of the Dark Realm, and symbols, depictions of horrible, cruel-looking evil creatures surrounding them. The obelisk – the Dark Gate – looked down upon her, seeming to glare at her, and then mock at her, laugh at her, as if to say, This is the one whom you have sent to defeat the powers that are held beyond me? This child is the one whom we of the most ancient days are to fall down on our faces before, into the dust, and fear? Who are you to come before us, little mouse? Behold: even my majesty is naught but that of a gate! You will never overcome the darkness that lies in the world I guard!
"Elowyn."
And she felt that voice, the one that spoke her name so gently – but also so firmly – dragging her out of the abyss of hopelessness and despair that the very sight of the awful gate to the lands of evil had brought upon her. Her soul cried out for rescue, even as she was pulled out of the mire, the black waves that threatened to drown her beneath their inky surface. She looked into the eyes of the dark figure that stood before her.
The shadow was waiting.
"Come," he said, and she obeyed.
The pair of magical cloaks were swept out from their hiding places, and within seconds, both Elowyn and Jaedin were rendered completely invisible, to even the most discerning power-gifted eye, although they could see one another, and everything else around them. Then Jaedin pulled forth from his robes an object that he had long kept hidden, even through his torture in the city of the vampyre-slayers.
It was a key, inscribed with the same runes that were graven upon the wall of the gate. Made of black stone it was as well, and as he led her by the hand towards the enormous structure, Jaedin revealed to her how it would be used.
As he had told her long before, the only way that anyone could enter the Dark Realm was through one of the Dark Gates, and the only way that a Dark Gate could be opened was by the use of a key. Only the most powerful members of the world of evil could keep a key in their possession; Jaedin himself had once had a key himself, before he had departed from the Ebony Queen the last time, to go in search of his quarry, the Princess Elowyn. Then, Zaschaea had taken away his key, and Jaedin had had to search long and hard for another one – for he knew that many of the previous owners of those very objects had been killed, the keys themselves lost within the mortal world. The little creature from Isiravadad, Xinth, had somehow come across one such thing, and Jaedin had taken note of it.
Now they had that key, and they could enter into the Dark Realm.
And so, with a last glance at one another – a look of resolution and determination, uncertainty and fervent hope, and a whole universe of less definable emotions – the two went forward, and Jaedin slid the key into the lock on the front of the obelisk.
Immediately, as soon as he had done this, the ground beneath them began to shake, and he hastily pulled them beneath the arch of the gate, where they stood as tremors went through the air beneath their feet, and a great blast of noise washed over them. Elowyn saw that the scenery of the land beyond them had begun to blur, and on their other side, a new picture was beginning to form.
Then, within seconds, the Black City was before them.
Jaedin reached forward and removed the key from the gate, once again placing it somewhere within his black robes. The place they now saw before them was not entirely unlike Dranthiris-Ankhar – a vast fortress of black stone it was, towering on the pinnacle of a mountain over a veritable maze of lava, boiling in chasms beneath the sundered earth. The sky above them was a mélange of seething black and blood red clouds: wicked, splaying fingers of lightning cracking from within it every so often. Filling the grounds of the castle were the servants of the Ebony Queen: evil creatures and beings of every possible species, size, and shape, all virulent and malicious.
The knowing, unsurprised smirk in the vampyre's lips was unmistakable as he looked down upon all of this.
"She's wasted no time at all in readying her people for the war," he said, softly, and Elowyn was reminded of just how deadly he could be, even when he made utterly no sound at all. The look in his eyes made her shiver.
"All evil has been called here."
So the Ebony Queen had united all of the Dark Realm under her rule after all, then. At first, Elowyn had only heard of this as a rumor, a dreaded story that was told in circulating whispers, that she would bring the masses of evil together, and send them forth at her behest, to end the world as it was.
And now it had come to pass.
Jaedin wrapped his fingers about her wrist, gently but inexorably pulling her after him as he stepped out from beneath the gateway. His booted feet no imprint whatsoever on the black sand that covered the pathway that they stood upon, high above the magma-riddled ground. No sound that they could make, no movement that they could make, nothing that they could do, would be seen. They were hidden beyond the power of words to tell, even more elusive than ghosts.
"Now, Princess," his dry, elegant voice drifted to her through the unbearably hot air that seemed to burn: smelling of sulfur with each breath she took. "I shall show you to a bastion within this accursed place, where your White Realm's binding spell is held."
Then he led her along those narrow pathways that had been carved into the mountainsides, perched so precariously over the fiery depths below, and they passed by horrible things – living and inanimate – that she had to close her eyes against the sight of. Never again would she ever truly desire to call up the memory of her first sojourn into the very heart of the lands of evil.
But it would not be the last time that she would go there.
After what seemed almost an eternity of walking through the Black City, Jaedin led her up to an arched doorway that was located in a remote, almost hidden side of the castle there. The doorway itself was heavily cloaked in shadows, and she soon realized that it was barred, and locked.
"Jaedin, we cannot go further…" she whispered, but then he held up a hand, with his characteristic smirk, and placed his free hand flat onto the black panels of the door, his eyes moving to rivet themselves on it. Elowyn stood by and waited, uncertain of what he was about to do. Suddenly, then, his hand disappeared – it went through the door!
Then he beckoned to her.
"I must hold you very close to me now, Princess," he murmured in her ear, his breath warm and tickling, "For, although I do have other reasons to desire it, that is the only way that I may take us both through the door."
Vampyres, she realized, as they passed right through the thick wooden door, could 'ghost' themselves – transform their living bodies into a wraith-like version of themselves, in order to pass through solid, otherwise impenetrable surfaces. And, if the vampyre was powerful enough and the other person held closely enough, he could even bring a companion along with them.
Now they were standing within a wide hallway with a tall ceiling, and – to Elowyn's sudden consternation – many black-cloaked and sinister figures moved about within it.
But before she had time to balk at this newest fear-inducing thing, Jaedin had placed his hand in the small of her back, and was propelling her forward, without further hesitation or apology. There was no need for fear, she told herself over and over again; they cannot see us. Even if we were to pass through the very throne room of the Ebony Queen herself, she would not…
And then they were standing in the midst of the very court of the Queen, and before them, seated in her throne of twisted black metal, was Zaschaea herself.
Elowyn halted, staring – for the first time – into the face of she who would have ended her life.
The Ebony Queen was unquestionably beautiful: tall and statuesque, with skin of pure alabaster white, small, graceful hands, a long, swan-like neck, and a face of remarkable fairness, each feature sculpted out of seeming perfection. Her lips were stained the colour of scarlet rose petals, and blood: a vivid contrast against the uninhibited jet of her sleek hair, piled on top of her head and studded with many jewels, an impressive, ornate headdress crowning her in glory. Her gown was imposing and regal, flowing from her feet onto the steps of the dais that led up to her throne, and as Elowyn watched, her flame-lit eyes – the only seemingly wrong thing about those flawless features at all – roved across her court.
Jaedin stood at her side, watching his princess's reaction to her first sight of the Queen whom he had once so passionately served – and then turned against for the seemingly unattainable love of a faery princess, beloved of the sea and the Light.
"So that is your Queen," Elowyn murmured.
But he shook his head, drawing her after him as he turned their course in the direction of the chamber where he knew Zaschaea would be keeping the binding spell that she had had one of her minions steal from Avalennon, while he was distracted defending the life of his worst enemy.
"No," he said, as they passed along the people-filled hallways of the Queen's palace, "She is not my Queen. There is only one who holds such sway as that over my life – and my heart – and I will not relinquish that place to anyone, do what they might."
And Elowyn knew in her own heart that the one of whom he spoke was she.
On through the black palace they went, passing through room and corridor until they came to the foot of a long, dark stairway that wound 'round and 'round, up lightless passageway, to whatever chamber was at its top. Up this stairwell he took them, guiding them into the blackness with expert care, and finally, they reached its end. They came out into a torch-lit, mausoleum-like chamber, in the center of which was a tall stone table.
And on the top of this stone table was the bound manuscript of the spell that served as the binding between the White Realm and the mortal world, the same spell that could also – when its powerful effects were reversed – forever sunder the two.
* * *
That day, the Dark Realm lost the second advantage that it might have ever had against the White Realm, its enemy. No being within the Black City would soon learn of the loss, and by the time that anyone did make that discovery, the two who had spirited the stolen spell away would be far out of reach.
But Jaedin and Elowyn's time together was far from an end, for now there was before them, although they knew it not, an ordeal that would test the limits of their very minds…
And, more significantly, the strength of the bond that had grown between them…
* * *
A/N: *singsong voice* I'm not telling… *grins at readers* Oh don't look at me like that! You know I never let you hang for long; nor do I torture you all that incredibly badly. ^_~ Everything will come to light soon. BTW, before we race on to the next chapter, look for our Healer Elf – Liowaihr – in later adventures of the next set of Travelers of Enchantment. I couldn't resist inventing him as a character, and then further playing around with the idea…