Chapter 6

Hlao encounters a creature from the aether, who gives her some troubling news.

Chapter Six

A Brush With the Aether

 

 

 

 

 

 It was very late when Hlao finally sought her bed, exhausted and happy. But as she was drifting off to sleep, a familiar fog blanketed her dreams. Oh no, not this again. What is it this time? Hlao thought muzzily looking around, insofar as one could see in dreams. Colored lights rolled through the thick silver fog, which seemed to shimmer eerily. Ever since she was a little girl she had had these strange dreams. They always seemed to show her glimpses of things that were going to happen. The first one she could ever remember having had been when she was seven. She had seen her friend Carson, trapped in the hayloft of a burning barn. Low and behold, the next afternoon, she had seen smoke rising in the direction of Carson's farm. The villagers sent to try and get the fire under control had no idea that he was up in the hayloft, unconscious from the smoke. Thanks to Halo's warning, they found the boy, and he soon recovered. She tried to brush off any questions of how she had known Carson was in the barn. But whenever she had passed the boy in the street from that time on, he had given her a nod and a grateful smile. It had given her great satisfaction to know that she had saved his life, so she hadn’t questioned the why or how of her mysterious, seemingly prophetic dream.  Several times after that, she had had similar dreams, and every time what she saw had come true. She wondered what she would see this time. She waited patiently for whatever was going to happen. Instead of clearing away like it normally did, the fog bunched and rolled. An image appeared in sharp relief against the fog. It was king Argen. He appeared to be smiling in greeting at someone Hlao couldn’t see. What followed was a confusing jumble of flashing images. A carved wooden box; then the same box, but with a blade sticking out of the side; King Argen’s face again, no longer smiling but twisted in pain; the box with the blade now red with the king’s blood; finally the image of a strange man, with dark hair and sallow skin, smirking in triumph. This was the last image Hlao saw before she awoke in the comforting darkness of her dorm. Ahmen, Kira, Zenny, and Marwyn were still asleep, blissfully unaware of the disturbing things Hlao had seen. A sheen of cold sweat clung to her skin, making her feel clammy, and her hands were trembling. The strange man’s face filled her with an inexplicable, but nonetheless very real fear. Not for herself, but for the King. Hlao didn’t know how or why, but she was absolutely certain of one thing; King Argen was in grave danger. It didn’t take a wizard to know that everything she had seen in this latest dream pointed to someone making an attempt on his life. Hlao had always seen future events in these dreams, so this murder hadn’t happened yet. There was still time to warn the King before it was too late. Looking out the window, Hlao saw that the sky was still dark outside. It was too late to do anything about this dream now. She would have to find the King first thing in the morning. The rest of the night was spent drifting uneasily in and out of sleep. Thankfully, the disturbing images from her first dream didn’t return. As soon as streaks of grey began to prick the sky, Hlao quietly got dressed in a light blue dress. She gave a slight start when she walked back into the bedroom and saw two chips of brilliant green glinting out of the half light. But it was only Marwyn. The ginger Cattwyn yawned and pushed his front paws out in a luxurious stretch. “I hope I didn’t wake you,” Hlao whispered, stroking Marwyn’s silky fur as he padded over to her. “Not at all, Hlao. What are you doing up so early?” “Well, I had a very odd dream.” “Hlao, I think all dreams are pretty weird. It’s perfectly normal,” Marwyn chuckled. “These dreams are different,” Hlao shot back, a touch impatiently. She wished all this talk of prophetic dreams didn’t sound so ludicrous. No wonder Marwyn wasn’t taking her seriously. Nevertheless she forged ahead, explaining about this dream and her past experiences. Marwyn sat on a footstool, furry brows knitted together thoughtfully; tail twitching as if it had a mind of its own. “I’ve never heard of anything like this,” he murmured when she was finished. “So you finally believe me?” Hlao exclaimed triumphantly. She hastily covered her mouth when she realized that she had spoken too loudly. After checking that his partner was still asleep, the ginger Cattwyn nodded. “Yes, I think I do. Rumors about you have been flying around the city. I know who you are, and knowing that, your ability to see the future in dreams makes perfect sense.” “I just know something terrible is going to happen,” Hlao almost cried out in desperation, but remembered to keep her voice to a loud whisper. The king had been nothing but kind to her, offering her a home when she had none, helping her make the transition into this society. She couldn’t stand by when his life was in danger.  “Please, I must see the king right away.” Marwyn nodded again, this time more vigorously. “You most certainly do. We have communal meals once a week. The king will be dining with his people this morning. Come on, we need to get up to the main dining hall. Hurry!” Marwyn led Hlao through a series of backstreets up the mountain, obviously a shortcut. She was grateful that the Cattwyn knew his way around the city; she still had no idea where everything was. Within ten minutes, they had reached a large cozy looking wooden building. Without waiting for her companion, Hlao barged through the double doors, out of breath. She had run the whole way from the dormitories. Startled diners looked up from their breakfast at the strange girl who had just burst in like a whirlwind. But Hlao paid them no mind. The only person she was interested in was sitting in a carved wooden chair on top of a dais at the head of the hall. She hardly paid attention to her surroundings as she pushed her way through to the end of the hall. Before she could reach the King, Goldmane rose up in front of her like some tawny mountain, bringing her up short. “Hlao, what in Merlin’s name are you doing here?” he rumbled, stern yet concerned. He could see the desperate expression on her face, smell the fear coming off her in waves. Still gasping for breath, Hlao tried to push past the great lion, but he was as steadfast as a rock. “Please, I need to speak to the king, I must warn him…” she panted. With a massive paw, Goldmane firmly guided her to an empty seat. “Warn him about what, little one?” Before Hlao got the chance to reply, the double doors to the dining hall burst open again and Koran stood in the doorway. “Your Majesty, the refugees from the South Shire have just made it to the city,” he announced with a formal bow. “Lord Moran wishes to address you immediately.” “By all means, show him in,” Argen replied with a wave, his face seeming to brighten up a bit. Plainly this Moran was a friend. Bowing again, Koran stepped out of the hall. He returned a moment later accompanied by three other men. Hlao gave a start, her blood running cold when she saw that the man leading the group was the same man from her dream; the one who was going to murder the king. Her instinctual fear of that face set her heart hammering with adrenaline. It was really happening, a lot sooner than she had hoped. She’d have to act quickly if she was going to prevent disaster. Argen greeted the man, Moran, with a welcoming smile, standing up from his chair with arms outstretched to embrace the newcomer. “Welcome to your home away from home, old friend.” Hlao thought numbly that he had no idea the danger that was at that moment returning his embrace. She wanted to shout out, “No, he’s not your friend. He’s planning to kill you!” But she bit her lip. Moran had no idea that she knew what he was planning. She was the only one who could protect the king. “Many thanks, my king,” Moran replied silkily, stepping back. His voice sent a shudder of revulsion down her spine. “The Light bless you for taking us all in on such short notice. I hope I’m not imposing too much on your hospitality, but we’ve had a long journey and would very much like to break our fast.” Koran waved away Moran’s doubts, guiding him to a seat near the head of the table. “I insist that you and your men join us.” “Thank you, old friend,” Moran said, and Hlao thought she caught a faint, smug smile cross his lips. Argen and Moran tucked in to breakfast; much like Jesus and Judas at the last supper, Hlao thought with a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach. She couldn’t even think about eating now, so she just sat tense in her chair, eyes riveted to the head of the table. “Tell me, who is this Moran?” Hlao asked Goldmane, still not moving her eyes. “He’s the lord of the South Shire folk, and has been a friend of the king’s for years,” Goldmane replied, his golden eyes worried by Hlao’s strange behavior. “We were worried that the South Shire folk had all been wiped out, but this group managed to escape just in time. What’s going on here?” Hlao didn’t answer the great lion, her hands fisting on the white tablecloth. She hated all this waiting, while the king sat side by side by the man who was going to try to murder him. Finally, the meal was over and the tables cleared. Moran turned to Argen, smiling in such a companionable way that it almost made Hlao want to be sick. Hlao had to strain her ears to hear what Moran was saying. “Well, I feel I must repay you for your seemingly limitless generosity.” Argen opened his mouth, but Moran raised his hand to forestall the king’s protests that any repayment was unnecessary. “No no, I insist. It’s the least we can do. We would like to offer you some of our finest fire diamonds.”  

 Here he stood up and drew a box from inside his coat with a flourish. Hlao didn’t have to look closer to know every detail, and that it had a knife tucked away inside. She was the only one who knew what was about to happen, and it was up to her to stop it. Why else show her glimpses of the future if she was not meant to do something about them? And so, she acted without thinking. If there was some magic in her like Skyler said this would be the perfect time to use it. But she wasn’t about to just sit around and do nothing. She leapt up onto the tabletop and ran down the rest of its length, scattering plates, glasses and utensils. Ignoring the protesting cries of the city folk, she jumped down right between Argen and Moran. Without knowing exactly how she did it, she thrust out one hand and sent a hard blast of air that knocked into Moran like a cannon ball, sending him shooting backwards. Somewhere in the room, several glasses smashed, showering their contents on some very disgruntled townspeople. Before Moran could get up, Marwyn had planted himself on his chest, ears flat, claws unsheathed.    The box flew from Moran’s grasp, bouncing on the floor. The catch holding the blade inside the mechanism broke on impact, the knife blade springing out with a sinister snick. “What is the meaning of this?” King Argen thundered, eyebrows drawn down in fury. Hlao gulped, a little intimidated by the fierce look on the king’s face. For a moment, she couldn’t speak. Could she have made a mistake? What had she been thinking to attack one of the king’s closest friends? Then she felt a gentle hand on her shoulder. Looking up, she saw Brimblewind standing there, the box with the knife in his hand. Having the wise old man to back her banished any doubts in her mind that she had done the right thing. “My king, before you judge Hlao too harshly, I think you should look at this.” The old wizard held out the box for Argen’s inspection. As the exposed blade caught the glow-light, an audible gasp went up from everyone in the hall. Angry mutters turned to shocked whispers as it became apparent that they had very nearly lost their beloved leader. King Argen’s face blanched in shock, then reddened with rage. At the same time, Goldmane roared and pounced on Moran, golden eyes furious, claws at the man’s throat. No one dared to harm the partner of his heart and mind. “Why have you done this? How dare you repay our hospitality this way?” Argen thundered, rounding on Moran. “What sort of trickery is this?” Moran uttered a mad giggle that sent a chill down Hlao’s spine. “You will never be able to hold back the might of the Lord of Shadows forever, my king,” he said with a sneer. “Silence, you traitorous scum,” Goldmane snarled, pressing his massive paw down harder on Moran’s throat and choking off another insane laugh. Clenching his fists in fury, as if he was restraining himself from drawing his sword and executing Moran right there and then, Argen said tightly, “Take him to the dungeons and lock him there while I consult with the council and figure out what we should do with him. Brimblewind, I’d like you to go inside his mind once we’ve let him stew for a bit, try to get an explanation.” Two guards rushed foreword and hauled the still laughing Moran to his feet. As the glow light caught the murderer’s eyes, Hlao thought she saw an odd whitish iridescence within the iris. Sensing that there was more to this situation than one man’s traitorous heart, Hlao tugged at Brimblewind’s sleeve and whispered, “Sir, did you see that just then, when the glow light shone in Moran’s eyes?” “See what Hlao?” “That odd shimmer, like a sheet of silver behind the eye. Please sir, you have to believe me. I know I saw something.” An abrupt look of concern crossed Brimblewind’s lined face. “Keep Moran here, but clear everyone out. Quick now!” With puzzled looks, the guards leapt to obey the Wizard, leaving Moran under the watchful eye of Goldmane and Marwyn. Brimblewind quickly put a spell rope around Moran’s wrists so that he couldn’t get very far even if he did escape. When Hlao made to follow the stream of fearful city folk, Brimblewind caught her arm. “If you would, I think you should stay here. Since you are going to become a witch yourself, this is something you should see.” Hlao didn’t argue with him, even though she would have liked to tell him that she wasn’t at all sure she intended to become a witch. Instead she helped usher along the Magicari towards the hall doors. Ten minutes later, everyone was cleared out. The last guards shut the door, leaving Argen, Hlao, Brimblewind, Goldmane, Fiero, and Marwyn with Moran. The former leader of the South Shire folk watched them warily, disturbingly like a caged animal Hlao thought. Moran was sitting on the floor, legs crossed, eyes darting back and forth. Every once in a while his tongue would dart out to moisten his lips. Brimblewind knelt down in front of him, careful to keep a safe distance. “What’s going on? What’s wrong with him?” Hlao asked apprehensively. “Is he sick?” “I’d like to know the same thing. Why haven’t we gotten this traitor locked in a cell?” Argen asked sharply. “Because, if what Hlao saw gives any indication, the man we both know as Moran may not be responsible for this,” Brimblewind answered, rather enigmatically Hlao thought. However, the wizard’s meaning didn’t escape the King. Argen’s hand flew reflexively to the hilt of his broadsword, eyes wide with horrified realization. “Surely you don’t think…” “A spirit of some sort. I’m not sure yet what level of otherworldly being we’re dealing with, but I thought it best to keep everyone else safe by keeping them away.” “What exactly is a spirit?” Hlao asked, casting a wary glance at Moran. “They’re beings from a realm apart from ours. Occasionally rifts open between our realities and some of these beings can slip through. They feast on magic, so they sometimes enter a person’s body to drain them of all magical energy with… unfortunate consequences. But, some have been able to gain control over a person’s body, before they have drained it dry. The higher levels of spirits can exist on their own outside of their realm, but regardless of the level all spirits are extremely dangerous and unpredictable. You can never tell if they’ll leave you alone or try to kill you simply for being in the way.” “Is there anything we can do to bring Moran back?” Argen asked in concern. Brimblewind nodded slowly, as if running through options in his head. “I think I may have a way. It’s risky, but it might work.” The wizard quickly explained the procedure; he would extend a magical shield around each of them, to protect them in case the spirit turned on them. Then he would project a strong burst of magic. Hopefully this would lure the spirit out of Moran’s body and they’d be able to trap it and send it back where it came from. Since he didn’t have much magic in him to begin with, Moran would probably be safe once they got the spirit out of him. Everyone gathered in a circle around Moran, who had an increasingly fearful look in his eyes, as if the intelligence now controlling his body knew that something was going to happen. Hlao felt a hum and crackle in the air as Brimblewind put shields around them all. There was a bright flash of concentrated magic that Brimblewind left floating in the air in the center of the circle. Several seconds passed; Brimblewind’s face was tight with the strain of maintaining the shields and the projected magic. Suddenly, Moran’s body stiffened, and his head was thrown back as a sharp spasm rocked his thin frame. His mouth opened in a silent scream. Streams of white light poured out of his nose and open mouth, swirling together in front of Brimblewind’s spell. It formed a glowing sphere of light that constantly changed color; one moment red, another and it was gold, then it turned black as night. Fingerlike feathery tendrils danced around it like some sort of strange halo. The whole sphere pulsed like a beating heart, and a steady hum filled the air. Hlao stared at the spirit in wonder. For something so dangerous, it sure was beautiful. The spirit seemed to examine Brimblewind’s magic for a moment, although it didn’t look like it had any eyes. But it didn’t find anything of interest there, and it moved on. Before Brimblewind could confine it, the spirit turned to regard Hlao for a moment- and then it rushed at her shield. It battered its tendrils against it, and though it seemed as insubstantial as mist, Hlao could feel the magical shield around her buckling. Hlao’s stomach clenched in fear. If the spirit broke through her shield, what would it do to her? It seemed pretty annoyed at being lured from its host. What if it made her try to kill the king? She didn’t have any more time to think about it. With a final shower of magical sparks the shield collapsed and the spirit pounced. It stretched its tendrils out hungrily towards her face, when suddenly it stopped as if it had smacked against a brick wall. Drawing back slightly, it tried again less viciously, and again it was forced to halt. Its movements slowed in a pensive manner, as if it were confused.

-What manner of creature are you? A breezy voice was heard to sigh. But Hlao wasn’t hearing this voice with her ears; it was the spirit speaking into her mind. The spirit’s mind as it brushed against her mind was completely alien; she had never felt anything so strange. It was an impossibly vast intelligence, made up of endless facets of thought, like a brilliant gemstone. Hlao felt like if she stared too deeply into those facets she might lose herself and never find her way back.

- I cannot enter your mind, yet your inner heart shines brighter than any I have ever seen. How tasty…

“I won’t allow myself to be just another meal for you, spirit,” Hlao thought forcefully. She wasn’t sure if it could hear her, but it was the only thing she could think of to do. It must have heard her, because it responded.

- Never has a mortal spoken to me in such a way before… I ask again, what are you?

“My name is Hlao. I’m half human, half elf.”

- No, there is more to you than that.

“I don’t understand. What do you mean?” Hlao thought back.

You have more magical energy than any mortal I have ever encountered. You intrigue me, shining heart. I think I shall let you live. The spirit replied loftily.

            “I don’t think that you could do anything to me, even if you wanted to,” Hlao said boldly. Then, afraid of making the spirit angry again, she amended, “But thank you for your generosity good spirit- you know, I don’t know what to call you. Do you have a name?”

- My name would be impossible to pronounce in your tongue… but you may call me Quextilathon if you wish.

“Then thank you, Quextilathon. You’re different than I expected.”

-Oh? How so?

“Well, I thought you would be… evil.”

The spirit laughed at that, a breezy sound like wind blowing through chimes.

-We are neither good nor evil. But I don’t enjoy taking a mortal’s life. I simply do it to survive in your world.”

“Then why did you come here and try to kill our leader?”

-I was sent

Quextilathon replied simply, as if this explanation was enough for her mortal mind. But it wasn’t enough to satisfy Hlao. “But why? By whom?” she persisted.

-You mortals are always so full of questions. It’s a wonder you get anything done. I was summoned and sent here by one like me. It has been long since I saw this spirit, but I still knew him the moment he summoned me. He is more powerful than I; he subdued me, forced me into this body and commanded me to come here. This is a common thing among us spirits. To survive, you obey any being above you, until you gain enough power to be in command. Otherwise, they crush your essence into oblivion.

Hlao winced in sympathy, guessing from Quextilathon’s tone that she had often been forced to do things against her will. Hlao couldn’t imagine living in such a subservient manner, essentially being a slave to anyone more powerful than you. A spirits’ life must be harsh.

-It may seem terrible to you. But that is the way we are.

Quextilathon said, hearing her thoughts. “But who was the Spirit who forced you into this? You said you knew him?” Hlao pressed.

-Indeed. His name I believe you already know- Rosairus.

An audible gasp escaped Hlao’s lips. This was completely unexpected. She had expected the Lord of Shadows to be mortal, not a higher form of being. She knew enough about djin and other spirits from stories and from being in contact with Quextilathon’s mind to know just how powerful they are. You didn’t want something so powerful as your enemy. And Quextilathon had said that the spirit that had enslaved her was more powerful than she was. If this was true, how could the Magicari hope to defeat the Lord of Shadows? “Hlao are you alright? What’s it doing?” Fiero piped worriedly, ruffling his feathers. Hlao returned her attention to the group to see them all staring at her anxiously. They must have thought her gasp meant that the spirit was hurting her. “I’m fine,” she hastily assured them, holding out both hands. She didn’t want any unnecessary violence that would interrupt her conversation with the spirit. “How can this be possible?” Hlao said in her mind.

-          A short while ago, at least short for my kind- a few thousand years- an unusually large rift opened between our two realms. A demon, one of the higher forms of spirit, escaped into the mortal world. But he needed Magical energy to survive. So he was drawn to planets with magical fields. So far he’s taken over two others and drained them of all magical energy, leaving them lifeless.

“Why is he doing this? There has to be some reason, revenge or, or something.”

-          You know that we require magical energy to survive in your world. To sustain a physical form of our own takes even more. But if we get enough magical energy, in one burst, we can make our physical form permanent. The result is an immortal being of even greater power than the Az’gllan, the highest form of spirit there is, but without anymore dependency on magic. Rosairus wants this power to take revenge against the Travelers. Even an Az’gallan isn’t powerful enough to kill a Traveler.  From what I’ve been able to gather, the Travelers banished him into exile eons ago, why I’m not sure. Whatever the reason, he’s been fueled by bitterness and hatred ever since. A few millennia ago, something, or someone set him free from his imprisonment in the aether. And so, to make his power complete, he’s set his eyes on the planet with the strongest magical field of all…

“Syldraga,” Hlao’s thought was barely more than a whisper. A shudder of horror passed down her spine. She had already seen the devastation Rosairus’ current powers had already wrought on Magica. He’d already destroyed two other worlds. What would he be capable of doing if his powers were increased a hundredfold, or more? The thought didn’t bare considering. “But how do we stop him?” Hlao went on desperately.

-Only the Travelers can answer that.

The spirit sighed.

-I am but a mere D’jin; I would be powerless to stop him.

“Then where are the Travelers? It seems that we must find them, and ask them if they know a way to stop Rosairus from destroying Syldraga,” Hlao said.

-The Travelers… I have not heard tell of one of the Weave Guardians in millennia. As far as I know, they were all wiped out in a terrible cataclysm before even the time of the dragons,” Quex replied.

“No!” Hlao shouted aloud, slamming her fist on the table.

“What is it, child? What has the spirit told you?” Brimblewind asked, wrinkles deepening in concern. Hlao quickly brought the wizard and king up to speed with her conversation with the D’jin.

“That is indeed cause for great concern. It is certain of the fate of the Weave Guardians?” King Argen said.

“Aye, sir. What do we do now?” Hlao asked.

“Pray that our friend here is wrong. Or hope for a miracle,” Brimblewind replied gravely. “But for now, we should send the d’jin home, keeping it here is using up magic as well.” The old wizard touched the tips of his thumbs and index fingers together, chanting quietly. A bead of utter blackness formed in the triangle of his hands, surrounded by an oily, rainbow sheen, like the skin of a soap bubble. Quex waved its tendrils of light, obviously eager to return home. A few moments later, the spell was complete. Brimblewind slowly fanned his hands apart, and the bubble expanded behind them, until it stood half his height, and wide as the spread of his arms. Quex slowly glided toward the portal to the aether, but stopped and turned to face Hlao once more, brushing her cheek with a Tendril. Three images assaulted her mind at once, so it was difficult to separate them; a deep cavern with a lake, cool and damp; the sandy ocean floor, the pressure making Hlao’s ears pop; and a high plateau, that almost seemed to touch the sky.

-These three places seemed important to Rosairus somehow. I could sense that much, though he guarded the reason well. I can only hope that you can make good use of this information, and exact revenge on the demon. Farewell, little one. May we meet again.

            Quex floated slowly towards the portal, winking suddenly out of existence as its tendrils touched its shifting surface. Brimblewind lowered his hands, face grave, and the portal slowly faded away until there was nothing but a faint mist.

Author's Note

Apologies, I fixed that bit in the beginning of the chapter.Please let me know what you think!