On the crest of a small hill, a woman stood alone, gazing off into the distance. She was dressed for battle, her once bright armor now grimed with mud and gore. A broadsword hung at her left hip. The woman and the blade were old comrades, having seen many a battle in their time together, but never had they witnessed such a slaughter as this. The unmoving results littered the plain below; grotesque shapes lay twisted in the churned earth, the corpses of creatures too horrible and unnatural to be of this world.
The woman’s hair, unfettered by helmet or ties, streamed out from her head like black banners snapping in the wind. A pall of weariness hung about her, stooping her shoulders slightly under its gray weight. Her pale, still face contrasted sharply with her green eyes, which burned with a fierce intensity, mirroring her thoughts.
How has it come to this? How?
We must succeed, or Goddess help us all.
A soft ahem from behind broke her melancholy reverie. The sounds of an army settling in for the night now brushed against her awareness, like a great beast at her back. She turned.
“ Highness,” the man said, ducking his head in a quick salute. He was slightly out of breath and clearly agitated.
“ What is it, soldier?” she replied. She took a step forward to see the messenger more clearly in the rapidly diminishing light.
“ Lady Junko has returned. The Kirians await you at your tent.”
She ran.
Her heart slammed against her breastbone as if it would tear itself free and fly from her chest. Terror bayed at her heels.
What if Junko has failed?
Well, then, we are all dead.
Men and women threw themselves from her path, upending plates of food and spilling mugs of hot tea, but yelps of outrage were quickly stifled when they realized who had torn through their midst. She saw none of it. Her vision tunneled down to a single point as all thoughts crystallized into one.
The ring.
She skidded to a halt in front of a tent that was larger, though no less plain, than its neighbors, and set apart by an open space. Two soldiers stood guard on either side of the doorway. They saluted briskly as she paused for a moment to catch her breath and gather her composure. She closed her eyes and offered a silent prayer to the Goddess.
A soft buzz of voices fell silent as she entered.
A group of people stood in a loose huddle around a camp stool, upon which sat a young woman. The woman rose to her feet, and the entire group bowed their heads in obeisance. A white-haired man stepped forward, his age and great air of authority clearly marking him as their leader.
“ Princess Syukoe, Lady Junko has returned, successful. We have the ring.”
Syukoe breathed out a long sigh and closed her eyes. She felt as if she would fly apart at any moment, her entire body drawn up tight as a bowstring. She didn’t realize she was swaying on her feet until she felt the steadying hand of Master Iku under her elbow. She put a trembling hand to her forehead. When did I last eat? she wondered.
“ I must sit for a moment,” she murmured.
Master Iku steered her to the just vacated camp stool. She sat, and someone immediately handed her an ornate silver goblet. The clean, sweet smell of her favorite wine tickled her nostrils. She took a long pull and wiped her lips with the back of her hand in a very un-princess like manner, frowning at the grime she saw caked there. She was a soldier as well as a princess, and right now, she felt bone-weary, filthy, and she reeked of the battlefield. She desired nothing more than a hot bath and deep, dreamless sleep, but she knew she would have neither this night.
“ Master Iku,” Syukoe began.
“ Highness, we have very little time. Your father…”
“ Knows, Master. He already knows. Of that you can be sure.”
Despite his advanced age, the Master of the Kirian Society stood straight and tall. The ruby Eye of Lajdala upon his breast, symbol of his high office, gleamed softly in the mellow light of the oil lamps. His long white hair hung in a single, neat plait down his back. Stern-faced and somber in his black robes, nevertheless, he inspired feelings of comfort and safety in Syukoe. She trusted him completely.
“ My fellows and I must begin the spell immediately if we hope to succeed. There is no time to prepare you. I fear that your strength is depleted after this day’s terrible work.”
“ I am strong enough. I have to be,” Syukoe replied. “The ring. Let me have it.” Master Iku placed it into her upturned palm. It felt cold, so cold, and yet it burned her skin, searing the flesh without leaving any mark. She could barely stand to hold it, but she could not release it either.
This is my father’s ring.
There is blood on it.
Syukoe looked first to Master Iku, then to Lady Junko. “How did you get this from my father?” she questioned, her voice sharp.
Junko came forward and knelt before Syukoe. She was very young, but her eyes were already hard and sad. “I cut off his finger, Highness,” she replied, matter-of-factly. “I drugged his wine. I’m the only one he trusts these days…or trusted. When he fell asleep, I tried pulling it off, but it wouldn’t come, so…” She fell silent.
Syukoe closed her eyes and struggled to keep from retching. The bitter taste of bile stung her mouth, and her skin prickled as if a thousand spiders had worked their way under her armor, trapping themselves beneath her clothing. Junko, because of her position as the king’s favorite concubine, was the only one who could get close enough to him to steal the ring, and even so, she could not have succeeded without the help of the Kirians. Junko did what she had to do, but, Goddess, did she have to cut off his finger?
A dark anger settled over Syukoe, dense and cold. Junko must have seen it in her face, for she backed away quickly, putting
Master Iku between herself and the princess. Syukoe stood up abruptly, overturning the stool. She glared down at the cowering concubine. Shiura Onjara, practitioner of the vilest form of magic, brutal and despotic though he had become, was still her father. He had once been a loving and attentive parent, adored by his only daughter, until the lust for power twisted him into the beast that she now stood against. Still…
He is my father , the hurt child within her cried. This girl cut off my father’s finger!
Get a hold of yourself, Syukoe! She did what had to be done, by whatever means necessary. She assumed a terrible risk, and she succeeded. Now you have the White Griffin Ring in your possession, the only thing that may keep you alive and free your people.
If the spell could be completed in time.
“ He is coming,” Master Iku breathed.
The eldest Kirian stood with his head cocked slightly to one side, like an old hound that has caught the scent of danger. The others stood very still, bodies taut, eyes unfocused, as if they, too, could feel the approach of the king, like a great, onrushing storm. Syukoe cried out in pain as the ring, enclosed within her fist, burned with such sudden intensity that she had to drop it to the floor, where it lay shining with a white light like a star fallen from the heavens.
Quick as a striking serpent, Master Iku snatched up the ring. Its cold fire did not seem to affect the old sorcerer.
“ Highness! We must act now, or all is lost. For the elven people, you must be strong through what is to come. They will need a queen when this is finished.”
For a brief moment, Syukoe hesitated. What choice had she, really? She must either go along with the Kirians or face another day in which she watched while brave men and women fought and died, torn apart by an army of loathsome and unnatural creatures called up from the depths of the Void by her father’s vile magic. No, she hadn’t any choice at all.
She nodded once, decisively. “Let’s to it, then, and be done.”
“ Hold onto my sleeve, Princess,” the Master instructed. “If you’ve never teleported before, it can be very disorienting, and you may be quite dizzy when we arrive.”
“ Where are we going?” Syukoe asked.
“ To the only place where he will not hold the advantage,” replied the Master. “The stronghold of the Kirians.”
The Black Tower. Syukoe swallowed hard and tried to stop shaking. Her mouth tasted of ashes. She took hold of Master Iku’s elbow, as instructed. Beneath the heavy black fabric, the muscles of his arm felt hard, more like those of a warrior’s than a magician’s. Still holding fast to the ring in his left hand, he raised his right hand and traced a glyph in the air before him. He spoke a single word, and the glyph became visible, a softly glowing silver tangle of lines, meaningless to Syukoe’s untrained eye. The other Kirians obviously knew their part, for they all gathered close, surrounding Master Iku, Syukoe, and now Junko, who had wormed her way into the center of the group and stood with her back pressed against the princess’s.
The mages began to chant softly, rapidly. The air within the tent started to crackle and pop with energy. Syukoe felt the bare skin of her face and hands begin to prickle unpleasantly as if she were being stung by nettles. Just as the prickling intensified into true pain, Master Iku spoke three words loudly, in rapid succession, closed his fist and pulled downwards.
The room folded in on itself.
Syukoe’s mind couldn’t quite interpret what her body had just experienced. One moment, she had stood with the Kirians, surrounded by the canvas walls of her tent. The next, she hurtled through freezing darkness to land upon hard stone, dizzy and sick. Her knees buckled, and she would have fallen, but a pair of strong arms encircled her waist, holding her firmly until she could stand again.
“ My thanks, Master Iku,” she murmured, pushing herself gently out of the embrace of the old mage. She glanced around her. The group had alighted in a small room, barely large enough to contain them all. The walls were constructed of wood, the floor of stone. The corners still crackled with the blue fire of dissipating magical energy. A single doorway opened onto a dimly lit corridor.
“ Come, everyone,” the Master called. “We must go to the Spell Chamber and activate the wards. Quickly!” He turned and rushed out of the room into the corridor. The other Kirians followed en masse, their black robes flapping like the wings of crows, sweeping both Syukoe and Junko along in their midst.
“ Hurry! He comes!” Master Iku shouted over his shoulder, and for the first time, Syukoe thought she heard a note of fear in the mage’s voice.
They ran now, fleeing ever downwards through a series of corridors and down staircases illuminated by softly glowing globes set into the walls at regular intervals. Master Iku still held fast to the ring. Syukoe could see his left hand ablaze with the cold starfire of the ring’s terrible energy, and she marveled at the Master’s strength that he could withstand its dreadful power.
At last, Master Iku skidded to a halt in front of a set of massive double doors fashioned of highly polished black stone. Syukoe gasped in wonder at the sight of them. Glyphs and sigils covered their mirrored surfaces, and to her eyes, they seemed to move, swimming like a school of fantastic fish that alternately surfaced, then retreated into the inky depths of a dark, still pond.
The Master spoke a word of Command and the doors swung inwards with a great inrush of air, as if no atmosphere had existed within the chamber until the instant the doors opened. Despite their previous haste, the Kirians entered the room slowly, reverently.
This place, their inner sanctum, lay at the very heart of the fortress known as the Black Tower. Here, the Kirian Society performed its most powerful Workings. Here, they would work the Spell of Sundering, which would separate the Key that unlocked the power of the Griffin Ring from the ring itself. They would then attempt something that could only be described as an act of desperation.
It would take every particle, every last bit of the collective energy of all of the Kirians to perform this Working, with no guarantee of success. No one in living memory had ever tried such a feat, and the elves had very long memories.
If they succeeded, a hole would open up in the very fabric of Time itself. Through this portal, the Key would be cast into the living body of a person not yet born, a person of the blood royal, a descendant of the House of Onjara. The divinations had already been performed. The House of Onjara would endure, and there would be living members a thousand years hence. Theoretically, the spell should work.
If it failed, they would all die. The Kirians, having drained themselves dry, would have nothing left with which to battle the vengeful fury of a sorcerer king betrayed by his onetime allies. Syukoe could expect to suffer an especially bitter fate as the treacherous child who dared to turn against her own father and aim to set herself in his place.
Worse than anything Syukoe’s father could do to her would be the suffering of the elven people. Their pain would be everlasting.
The spell had to work.
The doors swung shut with a soft whoosh , sealing the room.
The octagonal chamber had been cut from the living rock upon which the fortress stood. Its walls were made of the same polished black stone as the doors. Here too were the drifting symbols, giving Syukoe the impression of being in a glass-walled room submerged in black water. No symbols marred the dark perfection of the floor. In the exact center of the room, affixed to a square base, rested a slab, also fashioned of black stone. It stood at a height to make it comfortable as an altar or work table, measuring as long as the height of an average elven man, and about three times as wide as that same man’s body. Upon it rested many objects that Syukoe took to be the tools of the sorcerer’s craft.
Master Iku stepped over to the table and dropped the ring into a bronze bowl, then fell back and folded his left hand into his right, hissing with pain.
“ Master!” Syukoe cried out in alarm. Two of his fellows supported him as he doubled over, chest heaving. Syukoe knelt beside the stricken mage, her throat clogged with fear.
“ The magic of the ring is very potent, especially with the king so near. It is a wonder that I was able to hold onto it for so long,” the old mage said through gritted teeth. He stood straight once more, having mastered the pain, and unfurled his clenched fingers.
Where the ring had contacted his palm, a blackened hole gaped, seared into the Master’s flesh by the ring’s power. No blood seeped from the wound; the tissues had been cauterized by the intense energy.
“ Master, you must let us tend to your hand,” one of the Kirians, a woman of middle years whose name escaped Syukoe, said.
“ No! There is no time,” Master Iku replied, his voice full of urgency. “This wound is nothing compared to what I and the rest of us will suffer if we do not accomplish what we must this night. I will bind up my hand if I can find a bit of cloth, and make do.”
“ Master, please take this.” Junko stepped forward and proffered a red silk ribbon that, moments before, had bound back her waist-length golden hair. Master Iku took the ribbon with a word of thanks and began wrapping it tightly about his injured hand. Junko, eyes lowered deferentially, backed away and retreated into a corner of the room where she then sat, back pressed against the unyielding stone.
Syukoe knew little about her father’s favorite concubine, other than she was very young and came from the north. The princess wondered just what the Kirians had offered her to betray her master and king. Perhaps sharing the king’s bed and receiving his favor had not been enough for this ambitious girl. Perhaps she had desired much, much more, and when she could not get what she craved, her mind had turned to treachery.
Syukoe shook her head in frustrated anger. None of this was Junko’s fault.
She is a victim of Father’s evil, just as we all are. Your problem is that you still love him. You would run to him and fall into his arms without a second thought. All he would have to do is speak a kind word, and all of the horrors of the last three years would be forgotten- that is, until he slit your throat for betraying him.
She had to stay focused. Her survival, and that of the elven nation, depended on it.
Master Iku had finished wrapping his hand and now stood at the stone table, the bronze cauldron containing the Griffin Ring before him. The light from the ring still blazed, throwing the upper half of the elder Kirian’s face into eerie shadow, making of it a bizarre, featureless mask. The others stood to either side of their leader, arms raised, palms turned outward. Master Iku spoke a single word, and the aimlessly drifting symbols in walls and doors began to swirl and dart, forming themselves into linear patterns, which then froze into place. Syukoe could now see that they had formed what looked to be the sentences of a massive text, written in a language unknown to her.
The Kirians began to chant.
A sudden wave of concussive force hit the chamber like an enormous hammer blow, throwing everyone off-balance. The chanting faltered for an instant, then resumed with even greater speed. Another shockwave rocked the chamber a heartbeat later, sending a fine powder of rock dust pattering to the floor.
Blue-white fireballs of energy sprang into being in all eight corners of the room. Syukoe heard Junko scream as the concubine flung herself out of the way. The energy balls raced along the floor toward the center of the room, leaving burning trails in their wakes, which shone in the semi-darkness like the spokes of a giant wheel. They met and coalesced under the base of the stone table. The entire structure lit up, becoming as transparent as rock crystal.
Upon the glowing coals of the lit brazier, Master Iku cast a handful of powder. Tendrils of spicy smoke curled up into the supercharged air, tickling Syukoe’s nostrils. Abruptly, the chanting ceased.
The energy in the room thrummed with such intensity, Syukoe could barely remain standing. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Junko, collapsed upon the floor like a discarded doll wrapped in a pile of silken rags.
Master Iku, a fine sheen of sweat upon his brow, clapped his hands together three times and spoke a single word. To the uninitiated, a Word of Power was felt, rather than heard. Syukoe squeezed her head in her hands, fighting to remain conscious, as the Word blasted her mind and body like the sonorous voice of a great bell.
A sphere of energy manifested inside the bronze cauldron. Master Iku slowly raised his hands and the sphere followed until it hovered at eye level. The ring floated within.
Still off-balance from the residual effects of the Word of Power, Syukoe fell to the floor as a third massive shockwave hit the chamber. She stared in stunned disbelief as the seemingly solid stone of the doors bulged inwards, as if their substance had been somehow fundamentally altered, making them more like clay than rock.
Somehow, the Kirians remained standing, all thirteen pairs of eyes fixed upon the ring. A steady shower of rock dust sifted down from the ceiling. Syukoe coughed as the fine grit worked its way into her throat and lungs. She scrambled to her feet and whirled to face the deforming doors, drawing her sword because her warrior’s instinct compelled her to fight, even against impossible odds.
The room shook steadily now. The Kirians began a new chant, this one slow and deliberate, each word a Word of Power. Syukoe moaned in pain, struggling to keep a grasp on both sword and consciousness. The Words kept a steady beat, in rhythm to the synchronized pulses of the mentally joined sorcerers.
Syukoe heard a loud pop and turned in time to see the ring fall through the sphere back into the cauldron, its light extinguished. That light now burned within the sphere itself, with such intensity that Syukoe could not look directly at it. In a moment of clarity, she realized that the magic of the Key had been separated from the ring and placed within the sphere.
“ Princess!” Master Iku called out. “We require you now!”
Syukoe moved as quickly as she dared, fighting to keep her balance. She slipped into the circle of magicians beside Master Iku, who indicated that she should hold out her hand. She braced herself for what she knew would come next.
The Master had briefed her only this morning on how the Kirians would form the link to the future Onjara. The magical principle was based on the blood tie between the generations that stretched unbroken down through the years, connecting Syukoe with her descendent. Her living blood would catalyze the spell that would open a hole in the fabric of Time, allowing contact with the target. The Kirians would then cast the Key through the hole and into the body of its new host, thus effectively sealing it off from the king’s control.
Without the power of the Griffin Ring at his disposal, Shiura Onjara could no longer command his armies. The foul creatures he had conjured up from the Void were compelled to serve him by the magic of the ring; freed from that compulsion, they would be thrown into disarray and made far more vulnerable. Syukoe’s forces would then have a chance to defeat them, and perhaps some semblance of victory could be won from the disaster of the rebellion.
Bereft of his deadliest weapon, the king himself would also be weakened, giving the beleaguered Kirians a chance to neutralize his magic. Syukoe had made Master Iku swear to her that if they ultimately succeeded in bringing her father down, the Kirians would find a way to imprison, rather than kill, him. She still loved him, despite everything.
The floor heaved sharply. Syukoe gasped in dismay as the solid stone of the walls began to ripple in glistening black waves.
“ He is unraveling the magic that holds the very substance of the Tower together,” Master Iku stated grimly. “Soon, the rock will be like putty, unable to hold its shape. We must hurry.” He grasped Syukoe’s wrist in his left hand and held it over the lighted charcoals of the brazier. In his right hand, he held a small ritual blade, poised over Syukoe’s waiting flesh. He closed his eyes and began to intone the opening verse of the spell.
Master Iku spoke rapidly, the words running together in a continuous buzz of sound. The other Kirians stood silently, eyes closed, brows furrowed. Some perspired heavily, others betrayed the intensity of their effort with barely a twitch of an eyelid or lip. Oddly, despite the chaos of the dissolving room, the group seemed locked in a bubble of stillness, shielded from the worst of the punishing energy blasts directed at them by their enemy. Syukoe spared a quick moment of concern for Junko, still sprawled unmoving in a corner. She hoped the girl could survive the coming storm.
The chant reached a crescendo as Master Iku shouted out the last Word. Syukoe’s head exploded in noise and white light. Simultaneously, she felt a searing pain lance across her left palm. She cried out and felt herself slumping to the floor, where darkness enveloped her like a velvet cocoon.
How long she lay in a swoon, she did not know, but when Syukoe regained her senses, she found herself still on the floor, eyes level with the hem of Master Iku’s robe. The sour taste of vomit filled her mouth. She gagged and spat, then levered herself up on one elbow and attempted to focus her eyes. Her head throbbed with pain. Looking up, she cried out in astonishment and climbed shakily to her feet in order to get a better view of the extraordinary phenomenon.
Hovering at eye level within the circle of the sorcerers, a window-like opening appeared through which Syukoe could look out and see a forest clearing. Water drizzled from the dreary sky. Syukoe smelled the pungent odors of wet earth and rain, and felt the moisture-laden wind gusting coldly against her sweating face.
“ What…what is happening?” she whispered, but Master Iku seemed not to hear. All of his attention remained focused on the scene before him. Ominously, the chamber had stopped shaking, but the walls continued to ripple and flow. Syukoe, even without any trained Talent to speak of, could sense that her father now gathered his power for a final, cataclysmic assault. Whatever the Kirians are going to do, they had better do it now, she thought.
The sound of footsteps, squelching through mud and leaf litter, drifted through the open portal. Master Iku drew in a sharp breath. “The target is here,” he said softly. He raised his right hand, and the drifting sphere containing the Key settled gently into his palm. All eyes were riveted onto a path that snaked out of the forest and across the clearing towards the portal. A figure, swathed in a dark cloak, approached through the trees.
A hood obscured most of the face; even so, Syukoe still recognized the distinctive gait of a non-combat trained female. She walked with the deliberate step of one who knows the path well and is eager to arrive at its end. Abruptly, the woman stopped dead in her tracks and pushed back the hood of her cloak. She stared directly at the portal, her mouth forming an “O” of surprise. She seemed more puzzled than afraid.
The Kirians all gasped in dismay.
The woman was human!
“ Master, there must be some mistake!” cried Ankai Noemi, the most senior member of the Kirian Society after Master Iku. The murmured agreements from the rest of the group echoed the consternation in her voice.
“ The calculations were carefully checked and rechecked. They were completely accurate. There is no mistake. This… no, she… is the target. But how…” Master Iku’s voice trailed off in mid-sentence.
“ Master, look!” Syukoe pointed at the woman’s midsection. The pronounced swell of her shift told the tale of her condition.
“ Ahhh, I see now!” Master Iku exclaimed. “She is with child. Of course! It is not this human who is our target, but the child she carries. It must be so!”
“ But, you said the target was my direct descendent. How can a human child be the target, unless…” Suddenly, Syukoe understood. The child must be only half-human, sired on this woman by an elven man, a son of the House of Onjara.
The woman-a girl really-sidled closer to the portal. Her eyes held no fear, but rather an intense curiosity, coupled with a natural wariness. She was comely, for a human; a wild shock of black curls framed her smooth, heart-shaped face. She paused, close enough now for Master Iku to reach through and touch her, and peered into the portal as if she were looking through the window of a house. She spoke aloud in her own tongue-meaningless to Syukoe’s ears-but the upward inflection of her voice seemed to indicate a question. All within the chamber of the Black Tower held themselves in complete stillness.
At the same moment, Junko regained consciousness and let out a blood-curdling shriek. Simultaneously, the great stone doors of the chamber exploded inwards, sending rock shards hurtling through the air with deadly force. The lethal fusillade ricocheted off the energy shield surrounding the Kirians and the Time Portal. Junko, still outside the shield’s protection, was pulped in the space of an eye blink, reduced to tattered shreds of flesh and bone.
Within the doorway stood Shiura Onjara, King of Alasiri.
The Kirians were out of time.
“ Master Iku, I believe you and your fellows have something that belongs to me,” the king said, his voice satin-smooth and full of the dark promise of torture and death. Even so, in this direst of moments, Syukoe still felt a pang of guilt, for was she not part of the betrayal that had brought them all to this terrible place?
The king glided into the room on silent feet, carefully avoiding the gobbets of meat that had once been his favorite concubine. Syukoe thought him magnificent, garbed as he was in full court dress-an elaborate layering of richly decorated robes, belted at the waist with a jeweled girdle. His long black hair-so like her own-was bound back with a gold clip. Upon his brow sat the Crown of Alasiri, a simple circlet of gold set about with blood-red rubies. He approached the energy shield that protected his enemies and raised his right hand. A single tear leaked from Syukoe’s eye at the sight of her father’s mutilated hand, the stump of his ring finger bound with a strip of bloodstained linen.
A startled yelp tore Syukoe’s attention away from the advancing menace of her father. She looked up in time to see Master Iku lunge through the portal, and with his free hand, seize the human girl by the wrist.
“ Someone help me!” he cried, as the terrified human struggled wildly to escape, clawing and slapping at the old sorcerer’s face and hand, all the while screaming out a steady barrage of gibberish. Syukoe dove in and grabbed the girl’s flailing free arm and together, princess and sorcerer hauled the heavily pregnant human up off her feet and part way through the portal, where she dangled, her body straddling the boundary between the two worlds.
The energy sphere of the Key, still balanced on Master Iku’s right palm, began to pulsate in time to a heartbeat; whether to the king’s or the unborn Onjara’s, Syukoe did not know. Using her warrior’s strength, Syukoe had successfully pinned the human girl’s arms behind her and now held her steady. The girl had gone quiescent, her face slack, eyes half closed.
“ Hurry, Master! Do whatever it is you’re going to do, while this girl is still in a swoon!” Syukoe urged.
What happened next took only a few heartbeats, but to Syukoe, time seemed strangely expanded, each moment drawn out and rolling before her eyes in excruciatingly slow motion.
A sunburst erupted overhead, sending a sheet of flame roaring downwards to engulf the group of fiercely concentrating mages. Several of them cried aloud as they strained to maintain the integrity of the energy shield-the only thing that stood between them and the devastating power of the king’s magical attack. Despite their combined strengths, Syukoe could feel the shield failing as the air around them began to heat up.
Master Iku appeared oblivious to the king’s presence, so focused was he on his task. Muttering rapidly in a singsong chant, he traced a sigil upon the human girl’s belly, then to Syukoe’s amazement, he plunged his hand containing the Key deep into her body. The girl convulsed and let out a strangled cry, then collapsed back into a stupor. The Master withdrew his hand and Syukoe saw that no trace of blood stained it. The Key had disappeared.
Needing no prompting, Syukoe shoved the unconscious human back through the portal where she lay sprawled in the wet grass, her unruly mane of dark curls spread about her head like a tangled bush. She moaned softly as the rain pattered down upon her upturned face.
“ Ai, get back, Princess!” she heard Master Iku shout. Syukoe barely got her arms out of the way in time as the portal slammed shut with a blast of air and a noise like a thunderclap. The air within the chamber shimmered, superheated now to the point of combustion. The Kirians had clearly reached their limits of endurance. Hair and clothing began to smoke, just moments away from igniting.
“ Get down behind me, Princess,” Master Iku gasped. He raised his hands towards the ceiling. Syukoe did as the Master bade, curling herself into a tight ball and covering her head. She began to pray to The One for deliverance and an end to all of their suffering. She prayed for her father’s soul, that it be washed clean of the foulness and corruption that had warped it into something so unspeakably evil.
The Key lay safely in the future now, locked away from Shiura Onjara, hidden in the body of a half-elven child. Syukoe prayed for the Goddess’s protection for that child, for as a half-blood, its life would surely be a difficult one, filled with hardship and uncertainty. What was to become of the Key, no one, not even the great and powerful Kirian Society, had been able to divine.
“ Kirians! To me!” shouted Master Iku. Twin bolts of blue-white energy exploded from his fingertips. The resulting blast hammered Syukoe’s senses into tatters. She tumbled down into darkness and knew no more.
In a dusty chamber high atop a semi-abandoned tower, a midwife delivered a baby from its dying mother’s body. She cut the cord and wrapped the newborn girl-wrinkled, red, and capped with a thin shock of dark curls-in an old wool blanket. The old woman who had struggled to save both mother and child held the baby close, tears running in rivulets down her lined cheeks. She had failed.
“ My poor, Dru…my poor little Dru!” the woman sobbed quietly.
The dying woman-barely out of girlhood, really-stirred and cried out weakly. “My baby… Where is my baby?”
“ Here’s yer sweet little babe, my lamb… a beautiful little girl,” the old woman crooned, laying the whimpering infant next to her mother. Weakened from blood loss, the new mother could do little but gaze at her child. It would have been clear to anyone witnessing the sad tableau that her love burned fierce and hot for the daughter she would never know beyond these last few moments of her life.
“ Claudia,” the young woman whispered.
“ Yes, my lamb,” the old woman answered.
“ I want to name her Jelena…I’ve always loved that name.”
“ Jelena…Weren’t that a name of an ancient queen? From one o’ those old stories you an’ yer brother loved so much?”
The dying girl nodded weakly. “Promise you’ll look after her, Claudia, because no one else will. Promise you’ll not let them hurt her because…because of what she is.”
“ I promise,” Claudia sobbed.
“ Promise…you…you’ll keep the ring…safe until…” The girl’s voice trailed off and her eyes fluttered closed.
“ Dru?…Drucilla?” Claudia leaned close and peered into the girl’s waxen face. She could already feel the cold presence of Lady Death, come to gather her precious Drucilla up into her cloak of blackest velvet and carry her away on silent wings to Heaven.
Drucilla stirred and opened her eyes, but they focused now on something beyond the living world.
“ I swear I’ll keep th’ ring what belonged to yer baby’s dad, and give it to her when she’s ready fer it.” Claudia kissed Drucilla’s cold forehead. “Rest now, my lamb. Go to sleep,” she murmured. Gathering the baby up into her arms, she sat in the room’s only chair to wait.
She did not have to wait long, and when it was over, she placed the baby in an old laundry basket and set about the task of preparing the young mother for her grave.
When she had finished, she gathered up all of the soiled linen and picked up the newborn in her basket. She took one last look at the shrouded form upon the bed, then exited the room, pulling the heavy oak door closed behind her. She negotiated the narrow tower stairs with caution, fearful that one misstep could send her and the baby tumbling to serious injury or worse.
At the bottom, Claudia breathed a sigh of relief. So many things to take care of now , she thought. The duke must be told, and a wet nurse found for the child. She recalled a kitchen maid who had just lost a baby not more than three days ago. P’rhaps she can be persuaded. She set the laundry basket down and rubbed the small of her back in an attempt to ease the pain that plagued her. The baby began to wail.
“ Oh, poor little lamb! Yer hungry, o’course, and with no mam t’feed ye,” she said. “Well, let’s get a move on, then. C’mon Claudia, old girl. You’ve got work t’do!” She hoisted up her burdens and headed for the castle kitchens.
Later that evening, Claudia lay in bed, the sleeping baby tucked in a makeshift cradle alongside. The duke, not surprisingly, had expressed no desire to have anything to do with the child, commanding Claudia to take it away and keep it with her, in the servants’ hall. Claudia was only too happy to obey. The kitchen maid who had lost her own baby balked at first but eventually allowed herself to be persuaded by the ten copper a week fee-double the usual charge-that Claudia agreed to pay her. Claudia could have used that extra money for other things, but she had no alternative.
She gazed down at the baby, sleeping peacefully on a full stomach. On impulse, she got up and went to open the wooden chest at the foot of her bed. She reached in and removed Drucilla’s ring from its hiding place at the very bottom. She held the ring up to catch the light of the room’s single oil lamp and examined it thoughtfully for a while before returning it to the bottom of the chest.
The baby awoke and began to fuss. Claudia scooped the infant up and cradled her against her large, soft breasts. Instinctively, the child began to suck.
“ You’ll get nothin’ from these old tits, little one,” she said, rocking the baby gently back and forth. She traced the shape of one tiny, pointed ear with a fingertip. A sudden, fierce determination swept through her. “I promised yer mam I’d protect you from folks’ abusin’ you ‘cause of what you are, and by the gods, I’m going t’ do my best. And when yer old enough, I’ll give you yer dad’s ring and maybe, just maybe, you can find him.”
Claudia kissed the baby’s forehead and rocked her until she drifted off to sleep again.