Marie Harte - Gale Season

“Change back, now,” he ordered, his voice a silky threat.

The young Aellei shimmered back into his original shape. Long, light-brown hair glittered around a sensual, almost feminine face. Like his kind, this Aellei was exotic enough in looks to never pass for human. He was tall, his feet now reaching the floor, and his eyes were a pale, almost colourless blue. But it was his bright white skin that set him most apart.

Arim shook him. “Let’s cut the crap. You know who I am.”

The young male nodded, trembling like a leaf in heavy wind. A streak of world-weary satisfaction hit Arim, that his reputation as a sorcerer and Killer of Shadow was as strong in Aelle as it had been hundreds of years ago.

Unfortunately, he’d had to earn that reputation. It had taken the Dark Tribes centuries to truly divide, and he’d had little choice in the matter to either accept death at the hands of Darkness, or fight back with the Light.

He stared at the young Aellei. “What should I do with you now?”

His words had the male shivering, his gaze darting to his companion frozen by the kitchen. “I-I wish, I, ah, don’t know what—”

“Tell me why you’re here, or your death will be very long in the making.”

The Aellei swallowed loudly. “We’re just here to get one of our lost.”

“A lost Aellei?”

Nodding furiously, the Aellei explained, “Our people thrive on change. Several times a year, mostly during festival season, we travel to other places to play, for fun.”

“But the earth realm was declared off-limits centuries ago, when the humans started seeing strange things. Puck and his under-appreciated sense of humour,” Arim added sarcastically.

The male nodded and flushed. “Right, well. So we’re—I’m here to gather one of our lost ones back before the queen has to explain why we broke the boundary again.”

Arim stared. Something about the youngster was decidedly wrong. Altering his perception, Arim growled low in his throat and threw the young Aellei so hard he broke through the wall.

“Enough, young one . I tire of these games.” His mood darkened as the Aellei snickered. “Tell me what I want to know, or I’ll feed you to the Light, one piece of flesh at a time.”

The male sneered but shimmered into another form, this one of a much more mature Aellei, his hair reaching his hips, his eyes a bitter blue and full of deceit. “Took you long enough, oh, great Light Bringer. I fear rumours of your greatness have been exaggerated.”

Arim arched a brow, and the male’s foot turned to stone.

Shrieking and swearing in several languages, the Aellei pulled frantically at his foot, but could only move it a few inches at a time, as if the appendage weighed several hundred pounds.

“That’s Noraevian rock. It responds strongly to the gravitational force in this plane. Now try again, before I forget myself and leave you here to rot with your friend.”

“I’m here for a traitor. It’s Aellein business, nothing to do with a Light Bringer.” The Aellei looked like he wanted to weep as he stared at his foot, no doubt more concerned at how his foot looked than how it felt. An odd vulnerability, the Aellei clung to vanity almost like a religion.

In his upset, the male’s colouring grew so brilliant Arim had to shield his eyes. He cursed and allowed half of the male’s foot to return to normal.

“The traitor?”

“She’s not here, obviously.” Even under Arim’s power the Aellei had the nerve to sound disdainful. “Look, this really isn’t your business.” The man’s cocky tone dimmed somewhat, and he looked almost apologetic as he stared from his foot to Arim. “I am sorry you witnessed this. I don’t want any trouble. Just—”

Sensing another presence, Arim ducked and rolled behind Trudy’s couch. Several more Aellei arrived to join their friend. Archaic spells, green fire and a sudden slowing of time twisted Trudy Warner’s house into another plane altogether.

Familiar with Aellein tactics, though he hadn’t faced them in years, Arim cast a quick protective spell, enabling him to deal with the Aellein attackers, shattering their time warp.

“Shit, it’s not working,” one swore.

“My dark cloud isn’t working either,” another muttered.

“ Meha! Ah ele feal rul tser .” Another cursed. Grab him, staffs at the ready.

Arim teleported into Trudy’s kitchen, only to find himself facing nearly a dozen wary Aellei. All appeared to be seasoned warriors, their marked battlestaffs and calculating expressions indicative of harnessed malevolence.

“Ah, the infamous Killer of Shadow, Tanselm’s much-feared sorcerer.” The tallest of them spoke, his eyes a luminescent green. “I’ve been wanting to do this for the longest time.”

He pointed his staff, which began to shimmer into a hazy grey, at Arim’s middle. A stream of dark energy flew from the staff into Arim’s shield. But instead of deflecting away, the burst of energy melded with his defence, channelling through Arim’s rage until the shield disintegrated into a neutral layer of magic.

Once the shield fell, others began firing at will, the seething, shifting pulses of Shadow like an icy burn, striving to invade and take hold of his person.

As they held him within their small half-circle, the Aellein warriors laughed, their scheming cheer brimming with anticipation. Arim remained calm, fighting the incessant clawing at his mind and magic. He defended himself with Tanselm’s Light and the spells he’d been born knowing, realising the fight with these warriors would not be as easy as defeating mere wraiths.

The Aellei and those who lived in Shadow were far more dangerous than they appeared. Shadow dwellers possessed characteristics both Light and Dark, making them resistant to many spells and able to penetrate energy barriers with ease.

Arim chanted a spell in his mind, pleased when a few of the warriors began to blink in discomfort. Several dropped their staffs and began to squirm, the Light within them threatening to break free.

“ Rainku .” The leader cursed him and clenched his mouth shut, fighting the effects of the spell. In a garbled voice, he added, “Fian, take him.”

Arim stood with his back to the refrigerator, keeping himself safe on at least one front. Or so he thought. A shimmer of magic kissed his neck, and he whirled to meet the threat from behind, but wasn’t quick enough. Where the appliance once stood, a giant ogre lumbered. It threw him across the room like a javelin in Tanselm’s summer games. He landed in a heap against Trudy’s entertainment centre, smashing his right arm against her plasma screen TV before crumpling into a bruised heap on the ground.

“Son of a bitch,” he swore, one of Cadmus’ new phrases coming in handy as he stumbled to his feet. He gingerly cradled his arm and cast a healing spell before confronting the ogre. Staring at the decidedly ugly Shadren, he wondered if he might talk it out of this battle.

Large and slow, ogres were nevertheless quick of mind, contrary to those who thought them as dim as they were ugly. Its skin a lacklustre, scarred green, this ogre was surprisingly clean and dressed in fine cloth, a different type of foe from the ogres Arim had long ago battled. Its eyes were large, black and clear, unusually sober. Dangerous, but interesting.

“If I might ask a question,” Arim said formally, nodding in respect to the creature that trudged closer.

“Kill him, Fian,” the leader demanded, rubbing at his burning eyes. “Do it before he ensorcels you.”

The ogre blinked and stopped several feet away. “Question?” It grunted and motioned for Arim to continue. Behind it several Aellei burst into bright light while others phased away, leaving only four remaining who appeared to be overcoming his Light spell.