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The Sword Box
The prey was Oly. Af has her. Going to get her back.
May die in the process. Sorry.
My fingers were all but frozen as I struggled to close my phone. Olyvia was captured, huh? I felt like I should have been more surprised at the news, but I doubted much could surprise me at this point. At least she had one of me there to rescue her.
My next stop was so high up in the mountains one could barely breathe. It was cold.
So cold.
So, so freaking cold.
The air was thin. Snow whipped my body and stung my face. None of it was nearly as intimidating as the twenty-foot circle of protective magic set smack-dab in the middle of the frozen forest.
It was old magic, completely foreign to Terra. There was no wildlife around to speak of. Even the trees seemed reluctant to come near the barrier. They kept the edge of the circle at arm's length, the very edges of their branches inches away from the invisible border.
I stood at the edge, staring down.
The impression of Koanni elvish skirted the edge of the barrier on the inside. From the looks of things, the runes were carved into the earth as early as last night. But the magic coming up from the ground felt older than me.
All the toys allowing me past this stupid thing were stuck back in one of the other communities, and I didn’t want to trek all the way back to a wardrobe and risk getting caught by a Keeper brigade. This thing was so beyond me, I wasn’t even sure if my natural magic could help me punch through it.
Out of curiosity, I tapped at it with a finger. A jolt of energy shot through my system, my reward for being stupid.
I paced the edge, trying to find another angle or another way in. I had gone several paces before Layla’s sword lit up, the blue glow angrily spiking from my pocket. Before I could pull it out, the shards of light snapped themselves around my body and Grace’s form engulfed me for a second. Cold shivers crawled up through my spine before she moved forward into her own space.
“Can you not?!” I said through clenched teeth. I was already cold thanks to this mountain. I didn’t need her ghostly antics adding to it.
She didn’t respond, staring instead at the magical barrier.
I waited for her spirited sass, but nothing came. She simply hovered a few inches off the ground, staring at the barrier.
“...Grace?” I asked suspiciously.
A shiver crawled through her form, green light from her eyes creating a halo around her golden hair.
“He’s in there,” she whispered. “I can feel him. The son of the kingdom. He...he never left.”
“Is there something I should know?” I asked, stepping up to her side.
“The answer depends on how much you already know,” she answered, still staring forward.
“I know that an older elf made this barrier for himself. He’s tall and ill-tempered. He’s a wolf marwolaeth. And he kills any intruders that make it past his barrier. Basically he’s an old bridge-troll in elf form.” After another small bout of silence, I added, “Although something tells me I don’t know enough.”
Finally turning to me, Grace held out her hand. “My sword, please.”
“Why?”
“I cannot take true form without my sword,” she explained. “You will need my help to obtain his staff, and even then words will not reach him. I need to be whole. I need to be able...” She hesitated. Then shook her hand. “The sword. Please.”
So many things could go wrong with this. I wasn’t in the habit of trusting sprites, spirits, or ghosts.
But I didn’t have much of an option. I already knew I was outclassed thanks to the magic surrounding us. At least the sword came from the same place as this elf. If she could help me get my hands on the next weapon, so be it.
Reluctantly, I drew Layla’s sword from my pocket and handed it over.
Hilt in hand, Grace held it directly in front of herself and began chanting. A silver light engulfed the blade and, still chanting, Grace pressed it up against her chest. Her eyes furrowed in a reflection of pain, the sword passing through her form and centering itself in her torso.
Silver strands crawled from the sword, seeping into her translucent body and wrapping around her form. The strands pulsed as they solidified into bone, stretched into a circulatory system, and thickened to become muscle. With a final flash, the light hardened into flesh. Grace was now human. Completely human.
She gave a cough and stumbled, snatching at my elbow as I tried to catch her. She looked up at me and gave me a weak smile. “Thank you.”
I nodded, a bit speechless.
She gave me another weak smile as she steadied herself, a sputtering laugh coming from dry lips. “What?” she asked in a raspy voice, “You’ve never seen this trick before?”
“Uhm...no,” I answered, “not really.”
She let out a mischievous giggle that cracked and broke into another cough.
“Please excuse me,” she wheezed, “it’s been a while since...I’ve been in this form. I still don’t know how you people manage to...get around in these things.”
Now steady and standing on her own, Grace approached the barrier and gently raised a hand. She began speaking in an alien tongue and delicately touched a finger to the barrier. The magic wavered, space rippling out in front of us.
She repeated the phrase over and over, pressing each finger to the barrier as she spoke. The shield rippled with each touch, obscuring the view inside until it looked like nothing more than a reflection in turbulent waters.
She finished her chant with a final note and pressed her palm firmly down. The barrier shivered and fell with a sigh, receding into the earth with a rush of air. The surrounding snow hurried to cover its tracks, wiping the Koanni script clear.
"Wait here for a moment,” Grace said over her shoulder. “This will get ugly."
She moved slowly forward, raising her hands as she did. The snow began to swirl around her, her own personal snowstorm. Her left hand stretched forward as her right pulled back to her chin, both curled into fists, as if she were holding a bow and nocking an arrow into place.
Something began coming at us in a whirlwind of ice and snow, the elements so thick you couldn’t see past. An unearthly roar filled the silence, the sound so full of rage I found myself wanting to run for cover. I forced my legs to freeze, even though my instincts were struggling for control.
My arms and legs itched, an army of nerves marching across my skin. It was getting harder to control my instincts, which would reflect upon my human appearance. My unscheduled fight with Afanasiy drained my magical reserves. I was dangerously close to reverting back to my original form. In light of that, I was grateful Grace decided to take this fight.
Unlike myself, Grace's concentration never wavered. She stared down the moving snowstorm unflinching, her skin beginning to glow. The snow around her moved faster. A solid beam of light took shape between her hands. Shadows were pulled from their resting places, converging upon her and creating a bow.
She held the grip firmly in her left hand. The edges of the black longbow stretched backward, a white string taut between the fingers of her right hand. Snow condensed in the space between, icing over to create the solid shaft of an arrow.
Grace let out a controlled exhale.
She opened her fingers.
A glittering arrow shot directly into the heart of the storm, and the beast within howled.
The storm instantly died, the elements falling away. A hulking creature was revealed in the snow, hunched over and grunting. Sticking out of the creature’s shoulder was the shaft of Grace’s arrow. As the creature moved and shuffled, the arrow began to dissolve and was soon nothing but mist.
The creature raised its head.
It was an elf.
The tips of his pointed ears stuck out from a mess of white hair. Most of his face was covered in layers of scarves and thin cotton wraps, the worn material bundled around him several times to make up for their threadbare nature. Shawls and blankets were tacked around his lengthy body as a makeshift covering, his hands concealed in beaten leather gloves with the same kind of boots shielding his legs from the knee down.
The only feature I was able to see were a set of cold, silver eyes that watched the world in detachment. An odd sense of fear twisted my stomach as I realized he was studying me.
The wind brushed against Grace’s blonde hair, and his gaze rapidly switched to her. He shot a cold stare at her. Her expression didn't waver, another arrow forming between her hands.
With great effort, the elf pulled an arm forward and slammed the end of a staff into the ground. Something in the wood caught the light as he leaned on it in an attempt to stand, causing a pale green to glitter inside the staff.
Opal.
As he struggled to stand, his body creaked and groaned, every movement deliberate in his quest to stand upright. Watching him move was like watching a tree move. It made me wonder how the hell he managed to pull off the snowstorm that greeted us.
He finally pulled himself to a standing position, his body leaning heavily on the staff. "Grace," he huffed, his voice old as the wind. "I didn't expect to see you again."
"Gidel," she returned the greeting. "It's time."
He scoffed, the sound like tumbling rocks. “Of course it is.”
"We need your staff."
"It doesn't belong to you."
"It doesn't belong to you, either."
"Glidon gave it to me. I went through the rites. That makes it mine."
"He gave it to you to keep safe until its power was needed. And it is needed."
His head slightly tilted to the side, like an oak bending to the wind. “Interesting. Are you the one to determine such a thing?”
“I am now.”
He laughed, a dead, mocking sound. “You have no authority. Not here.”
“I have the same authority as Cryton, your brother, second born to the throne of Geshon, and husband of my wielder. You will give me your staff.”
“Pretty words will not persuade me, nor do your petty titles convince me. The throne of Geshon has no bearing here.”
“If we finish this war,” Grace whispered, “we can finally go home.”
Gidel laughed again, the noise almost more haunted than Grace’s words. “Didn’t Wolf tell you? The elven lands are gone. The Light destroyed everything. There is no home to go to.”
“Then we will take our home back and destroy the Light forever. Now give me the staff.”
The space between Gidel’s eyes wrinkled, the bridge of his nose curling up in what could only be a snarl or a sneer.
“Rot in your sword, ghost. You will never go home.”
"You've been up here too long, Lord Gidel," Grace said softly. "Do you even remember what we were fighting for?"
"Survival of the human race," he said coldly. "How could I ever forget?” His eyebrows furrowed, the scowl across his eyes growing. “We were always fighting for humanity. This cursed planet. This stupid race. We were always fighting for them, when they didn't even know we existed." His eyes narrowed, cracking the skin at the edges even more. "And you want to open the portals and bring it all back."
"I want to finish what we started, all those years ago." Anger sparked around Grace’s hollow voice, bringing fire to her words. "The war your brother prevented us from finishing. The war that robbed me of my partner, destroyed my value and left us stranded. How can you sit here while everything decays around you? How can you tarnish the memory of your brothers so easily?"
"Stop," Gidel's voice commanded.
"You are the only Lord left alive, and yet you sit up here crying in the snow.”
"Stop talking Grace," he insisted, shaking his head in a sharp, halting manner. A tremor grew in his voice and rippled through his body.
“You meat sacks weren’t the only ones to die in the fire,” she snapped, tears beading at her eyes. “I lost brothers and sisters because of that war. Because you forged us. Because you named us. Because you used us. And all that sacrifice has led up to you whining instead of taking a stand. It’s despicable,” she spat. “It’s dishonorable. You’re dishonoring the sacrifice your family made to save people. You’re dishonoring our sacrifice to protect you. You're dishonoring us all with your cowardice!" Grace screamed, rage finally taking over. "You should have died with the rest of us!"
"No!" Gidel roared. Energy flashed around him, a blast of snow engulfing him in a sheet of white. A blur shot through the curtain, blasting the sheet into shards of snow. Grace released two arrows. The blur shuddered and fell, slicing through the white carpet before coming to a stop at her feet. He struggled to breathe, facedown in the snow, but made no move to get up. Grace slowly turned him over so he could breathe more easily.
His body was still, but his eyes glared. The frozen shafts of Grace’s arrows stuck out of him; one in the chest and one in the leg. She gently reached down and gripped his staff, pulling it free.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered, “but it’s our turn now. Our turn to fight for the homeland. Our turn to finish the war.”
“You’ll all die,” he rasped. “I hope you know that.”
“Better a death in the battle we were made for, than to die like you,” she answered, tucking his staff underneath one arm. “I truly am sorry, Lord Gidel. I hope you’ll forgive me one day.”
She stood and hurried away from him, staff tucked up under her arm. She held it out as she reached me, like a baton in a race.
As soon as I had it, she spun around and re-wove the barrier. She worked quickly, pulling magic from the air and weaving it into a tight shield.
“He’ll be fine,” she said quietly, more to herself than to me. “I didn’t hurt him badly. My arrows can paralyze the body, but only for a short time.” She spun around as she finished working and said in a small, hurried voice, “We should go.”
“Now?” I asked, pocketing Gidel’s staff.
“Yes,” she begged, turning to look over her shoulder. Gidel hadn’t moved. “Before my arrows wear off. Before he’s able to move again. We must be gone.”
It was curious that she was so scared of him, now. She was like a child that had done something horribly wrong. With a quick glance towards Gidel, I flipped the hat off my head and activated the portal, sending both of us on to our next location.
Four down, one to go.