David Dalglish - Dawn of Swords

“I must return to Safeway-and quickly,” he said, gesturing behind him. “All of us.”

Turock grimaced, seeming uncertain.

“I can’t get you that far,” he said softly. “In theory, the farthest I can send you is to the outskirts of the Gorgoroses’s land, but I have never sent anyone that great of a distance.”

“How far have you sent someone?”

“Safely, only a few hundred feet,” said Turock, coughing and refusing to meet Jacob’s eye. “I know the spell, and I can gather the power, but I fear you might not be in one piece when you arrive.”

Jacob bowed his head. “I will take the risk,” he replied, and he sounded more than appreciative when he said it.

“But-”

“Just do it!”

With that, the First Man grabbed his horse’s mane and swung up into the saddle. He pulled Brienna’s lifeless body into his lap, before taking the reins of the steed that carried the corpse of Uther Crestwell. Azariah stayed by his side there in the middle of the field, seemingly willing to let Jacob try whatever he had planned.

Roland heard whispered words of magic, and he looked on as Turock closed his eyes and rubbed his wrists together. The air seemed to shimmer around the red-haired spellcaster, and his features shifted in and out of focus beneath the moon’s ghostly glow. A glowing blue orb formed in front of the four horses, hovering above the ground. Its swirling beauty stole Roland’s breath away. It grew rapidly outward, becoming the size of a fist, a man, a horse, then so large Ashhur himself could have walked through it. Roland stood in awe, watching shapes alter within the vaporous, resplendent mist. Jacob nodded and thanked Turock.

“Don’t thank me yet,” said the spellcaster. “Save your thanks for when you all get there safely, with all the proper limbs and digits.”

Jacob nodded.

“Very well, then,” he said.

“What will you do if you survive?” Turock asked, shouting over the steadily growing roar of wind that was pulsing from the portal. Jacob urged his frightened horse forward, and when he answered the question, there was a chilling flatness in the First Man’s voice.

“I will demand a miracle from a deity.”

Jacob kicked his horse, imploring it and the steed carrying Uther into a gallop. They disappeared into the swirling blue portal as if they’d never been there at all. Azariah shrugged and followed after, vanishing in the same way. Roland stood paralyzed, watching the colors swirl, afraid of getting lost in whatever had been opened before him.

“Better make it quick, son,” Turock told him, the strain of what he was doing clearly evident on his grimacing face. “I can’t hold this thing open forever.”

Roland took a deep breath, then jostled the reins. His horse leapt forward, heading for the potentially deadly gateway. It was only because of his faith in the man he called master that he didn’t soil himself as he passed through it.

Her name was Aubrienna Meln of Stonewood, Brienna to those closest to her, and she was a ball of raging fire in the deep blackness of the approaching dawn. Brutes in armor and vile men in heavy black robes chased after her. They leapt across the river, seeming to float through the air, after she and her tall companion left their raft. The attackers’ arrival had been unexpected, and in no time she and her friend were separated. She faced a cadre of foes armed with swords and spears, with nothing but the cloak on her back and her bare hands to combat them.

It would be enough.

Power leapt from her fingers as she drew from a well of energy that she had not fully accessed in decades. She lifted one arm, and a wall of ice formed in front of her enemies. Another arm lifted, and the earth beneath their feet folded upward, crushing them in a tomb of dirt and stone. Brienna stepped back, gritting her teeth. She was frightened, but a part of her savored the force she was controlling. The ice wall shattered, and more men rushed forward with swords, their expressions showing no fear, only anger. Her hands worked their magic, twisting into the necessary formations, mimicking the secret runes born into the earth itself when the goddess formed Dezrel. Lances of ice and fire flew at her enemies, cutting them down one by one, the ice smashing their armor and the fire ravaging the flesh locked within.

Brienna desperately searched for her companion as the space around her grew more cluttered and chaotic in the aftermath of her attacks. Off in the distance, she could see the tents surrounding the half-completed tower. There would be people within, frightened and huddled together. The elf screamed with all her might as she saw more attackers hurrying toward the meager haven. Electricity danced off her fingertips, cutting them down as they glided over the violently rushing river.

That was when a sharp pain slammed into her, tensing muscles that had reached their peak ability after a century of training. She dropped to the ground. Her ears rang, and she found it hard to concentrate on anything. She sensed men rushing past her as if from afar, and the terrified, distant screams of the villagers became a terrible song.

With blurred eyes she looked up to see a man standing before her. He was bald, with crystal blue eyes that glimmered each time light flashed in her field of vision. He wore a dark cloak, and his grin showed the glee he took in torment. The man raised his hands above his head, bringing a rumble of thunder to the sky and a brightness so intense that it washed out all else that followed. Lightning pierced her flesh, sending agony throughout her body, making her quake uncontrollably. She was horribly aware of her muscles seizing, of her organs ceasing to function. With her last remaining breath she called out to her sister, a young elf she adored more than the world itself, to say good-bye before the darkness took her, before that blinding white faded into.…

Aully awoke shivering, her cheeks covered in tears, in the grimy hay on the floor of the cell that was now her home. Her eyes flew open, and she stared at the drab, gray wall, too horrified to move, too horrified to utter a word. What she’d seen, what she’d felt, had been far too vivid for a nightmare. Far too real. She didn’t know who the bald man and his lackeys were, but she knew in the deepest fibers of her being that they were somehow connected to the enemies who had turned her life into a never-ending string of horrors. She curled her knees to her chest and cried silent tears, wishing she could join her sister in whatever lay beyond death.

First her father, now Bree. All she had left was her mother and a brother whom she had never met and probably never would. Would the anguish never end?

Comforting hands caressed her back. Aully rolled over and saw Noni hovering above her, face lit solemnly by the torch that burned in the corridor outside their cell. The old elf gently wiped her tears away before leaning over and placing a kiss on her forehead.

“Don’t fear your nightmares,” she whispered. “They mean nothing.”

“This one did.”

Aully pushed away the old elf’s hand and sat up. She brushed her dirty hair from her face and glanced to her right, where her mother lay sleeping. From the looks of it, the Lady of Stonewood hadn’t received the same vision she had, and for that Aully was glad. Her mother had retreated within herself during the endless days of their imprisonment. She feared more bad news might be the end of her.

“Brienna’s gone,” she whispered. Aully looked up at her nursemaid, needing something without being sure what it was. Sympathy? Understanding? Someone to believe her?

“In what way, child?” Noni asked.

“Gone,” Aully insisted. “Forever. She’s dead.”