《Stormsinger》 Exile Llyraien''s head snapped upright as a shiver scuttled through him, and he cursed under his breath as he realised the fire had gone out - that meant he had dozed off. The rain was still drumming steadily outside, obscuring much of the view from the mouth of the cave, but the uneasy feeling in his gut told him that he needed to be sure it was safe to light the fire again. He unfolded his lanky frame in a manner not unlike a startled grasshopper, and padded lightly to the cave entrance, being careful to remain hidden behind the rock in spite of the darkness outside. He paused for a moment, almost holding his breath as he scanned the black for any sign of movement or anything unusual. Finding none, he reached into the pouch at his hip for some kindling as he made his way back to his spot by the fire. He placed the kindling in the fire pit and carefully added sticks from the pile next to it, then gingerly sat back down on the cold cave floor. He raised his hand in an almost imperceptible gesture, and the kindling crackled into a small flame. He didn''t want to risk feeding the fire too much in case anyone saw it, and he didn''t really need the light because his night vision was acute - but damn, it was cold, and the small flame gave him some comfort against the chill and damp. He pulled his cloak around his shoulders and settled into a more comfortable position, eyes and ears still focused on the space just outside the cave. He could put up a shield, but he knew full well that they''d sense the magical energy and would be drawn to it, and he wasn''t going to risk it. He knew he would have to keep moving and find another place to shelter soon enough, because his pursuers were relentless. He smiled mirthlessly at the thought, mentally plotting the next leg of his travels. He couldn''t stay in the mountains for long, but if he stuck to the lowlands and the forest, they''d find him easily because it was way too close to the citadel and their regular patrols.If you come across this story on Amazon, it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it. He didn''t dare close his eyes, because if sleep didn''t get him he knew the memories would. He shivered again and shook his head as if to clear the cobwebs of those memories out of it - no chance of sleep now, because his whole body sang with adrenaline and tension in spite of the apparent lack of present threat. He snapped his attention back to the cave entrance, noticing the moonlight glinting off the puddles in the dirt outside. His right hand shifted subtly and found his sword, his fingers resting on the hilt. He stayed there like a cross-legged statue for hours, no perceptible movement, eyes glued to the cave entrance until he saw the first blush of dawn start to creep in. He took a swig from his flask, then stood up, sword in hand, and shouldered his pack. He would have to move fast if he was going to beat the first patrol. Kicking dirt over the embers, he edged along the cave wall to the entrance, scanning the landscape outside. If he stuck to the ridge while it was still not yet light, he should be able to make it beyond the treeline before the patrols would be anywhere nearby. Edging out of the cave mouth, he silently thanked Eona that there was very little soft dirt underfoot to leave footprints, and flattened himself against the rock as he surveyed the surrounding trees to make sure he was alone before silently moving along the rock face, following the line of the ridge above. Flight He had been making his way up along the ridge for maybe an hour as the grey of early morning slowly turned to the rosy glow of sunrise, when he heard it - the screech and beating wings of a patrol bird. Instinctively he shrank back into the rock face as he calculated the direction and distance of the bird from his position. Satisfied that he would not be seen if he moved, he cautiously continued to move along the rock face until he spotted a crevice ahead that was big enough for him to slip into until the bird had passed overhead and turned toward the citadel. Being careful to stay as close to the rock as possible and underneath the ridge where he could not be seen from the air, he stepped into the crevice, heart pounding. The screeching grew louder and he swore he could feel the movement of the air from the great wings - as he cocked his head slightly to listen, he counted three birds and Pilots overhead, and froze as he saw the shadows pass. He could see them now from where he was hiding - three enormous brown-feathered birds in harness, each with a Pilot in leather armour seated on its back. Their wingspan was at least 20 feet, and they flew in formation, with one in front and two behind. He shuddered involuntarily at the sight of the Pilots'' shiny scaled skin, and felt the tiny spider of fear scurry up his spine as he watched them bank to the left and head back to the citadel. He realised at this point that he had been holding his breath, and exhaled slowly as he stepped back out against the rock and continued moving, more urgently now that he knew the patrols were out already. He froze again as a fist-sized rock clattered past him from above, then relaxed slightly as he saw that it was dislodged by a deer and not a Ranger. He had to keep moving, because he knew his time was running out before the Rangers would be this far up in the mountains - he needed to reach the cave he had in mind, and fast. Finally he reached the top of the ridge, but not before two more airborne patrols had flown overhead - he had taken note of the intervals between them, and calculated that he had about another twenty minutes to reach the cave and get out of sight before the next patrol appeared. He knew it was risky using any sort of magic, but the distance between the top of the ridge and his cave was largely open space, and if he had misjudged the timing of the patrols and they spotted him, he was dead, guaranteed. Taking a deep breath, he framed a silent prayer to Eona for protection, and drew as much energy as he could from the earth, through his feet and up through his body. He channeled the energy into his hands, then slowly raised them above his head and allowed the energy to pour out as he traced the air around him in the shape of a protective egg. As the energy filled the shape he formed, the air around him buzzed and grew hazy, enveloping him until he disappeared and the only indication that there was anything at all where he had stood was a slight shimmer in the air. Satisfied that he was now no longer visible to any observers, he sprinted across the rocky flat toward the next ridge and climbed up the rocky face, hauling himself up over the last ledge to the mouth of the cave and diving inside. The air around him buzzed and shimmered as he reappeared and moved toward the back of the cave, taking stock of the shape and any formations that would provide cover if it was required. The entrance to this cave was a narrow crevice in the rock face that did not look like it had any depth to it, and was only discernible as a cave once you actually got close enough to step inside. The cave itself was quite narrow for about the first ten or twelve feet, being about 3 feet across and then widening out into a chamber that was almost perfectly round and about 18 feet in diameter, with tunnels leading to two further chambers. He wasn''t sure which of his ancestors had widened this cave and hewn the extra chambers from the rock, but he sent them a prayer of thanks as he inspected their work. In the smaller chamber off to the right, there was an alcove carved into the back wall - he dropped his pack to the floor and opened it, taking out a small carved figure and placing it carefully on the ledge. He placed three small bowls on the ledge - one on either side of the figure and one in front.Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation. He poured water from his flask into the right-hand bowl, and from the pouch on his hip he took a small handful of dried berries and nuts and placed it in the left-hand bowl. Into the centre bowl he placed a small piece of charcoal. Taking a few steps back from the alcove, he pressed his hands together and formed an ancient sign, and the charcoal suddenly sprouted a bright blue flame that danced and flickered in the bowl. He dropped to his knees, resting his hands on his thighs, and bowed his head in gratitude. The words spilled out of him like a quiet waterfall: "Ei Eona, nam duras e horam. A khi Eona, tirith am donas. Na keis an storam, Eona imis do gheisan a hei!" The walls seemed to vibrate in response to the ancient prayer, and the blue flame grew stronger, throwing light that rippled like water on the hewn rock. Llyraien stayed perfectly still, his lips still forming the words but now making no sound as he continued to pray to Eona, Mother of All, the words pouring out of him and flooding the small chamber with their energy. Behind the veil, Eona sat in front of the mirror and watched her charge with compassion. She had a lot of time for this one, he had been through so much pain and loss and yet had never turned his back on her - even when he couldn''t feel her presence and doubted that she existed at all, he never failed to pray to her or give her offerings and thanks. She only wished there was more she could do to ease his pain, to right the wrongs that he had suffered - perhaps a long time ago she could have, but she was ancient and there were so few Elves who still believed in her and in the Old Ways any more, and her powers were not what they once had been. She felt a pang of regret at this, and shifted her attention back to his words. She had noticed a distinct shift in the energy behind them now; he had started out with a standard prayer of thanks, but his words now carried a weight of grief and loss that took her breath away. She reached out her hand toward the mirror, and the glass rippled as she laid her hand on his head to comfort him. Llyraien felt the air around him buzzing with energy. His eyes flew open as he felt her presence, then closed in gratitude as the calming warmth of her touch flowed through him, filling the gaping hole left by his grief. He continued to pray as the tears ran down his face - Eona kept her hand on his head until she could no longer stand the depth of his pain, then reluctantly drew it back behind the veil. As she looked away from the mirror, a single tear rolled down her cheek. She brushed it away, and swore she would find a way to restore to him what he had lost. She knew that even she could not bring back the dead, but she could at least find a way to bring the perpetrators to justice and give him vengeance and, she hoped, peace. He stayed there, praying, for what seemed like hours. Finally, when all of his emotions were spent, he slowly stood up. Picking up his pack and flask, he left the flame burning and went out to the small space on the left side of the main chamber. Here, there was a large wooden box against the back wall. He placed his pack and flask beside the box. He lifted the lid to see what the previous occupant had left for him, and was pleased to see that there was firewood and a number of containers of dried and preserved food, along with some tools and other equipment that he would find useful. He offered silent thanks to whoever had been thoughtful enough to leave supplies for the next visitor, while briefly wondering if they''d be back to use them again. Picking up several pieces of firewood, he took them back out to the main chamber and stacked them neatly against the wall to the right of the well-used fire pit. He would have to wait till after dark to light the fire, or the smoke would likely attract the attention of the patrols. He spread his cloak out on the floor and brought out some of the dried foods that had been stored in the box - there were nuts, different kinds of berries, grains, roots and herbs. He had some water, but would need to find a water source to refill his flask. He knew there was a spring nearby, but wasn''t keen on venturing out in daylight and possibly running into a patrol. So he took his time in setting himself up in the cave and making himself reasonably comfortable, all the while keeping an ear out for any sounds that would indicate a patrol was nearby. They were unlikely to come particularly close to this cave, since the entrance was hidden and on a very narrow and high ledge - but the aerial patrols would still see him if he left the cave, so he decided that for now it was safer to stay put. Darkness "I hope for your sake you''re going to tell me you found him?" Maleine raised her eyebrow at the Pilot, who shifted uncomfortably and suddenly became very interested in the parquet floor. "N...no, Your Highnesssss....perhapsss the foot patrol had better luck?" the Pilot''s tongue flicked nervously, tasting the Queen''s displeasure. Maleine regarded him coolly through narrowed eyes, her hawklike features suddenly seeming much sharper and more threatening. She turned to the Ranger. "And you? Have you found him yet?" The Ranger swallowed and tried to look far more confident than he felt. "No, Your Highness - we did find a cave with signs of a recent fire, but the rains are making it hard to track him." Maleine wheeled around to face the Ranger directly, and stood mere inches away from his face. "And when exactly do you think you will be able to catch him? I want him brought to me. Personally." she spat. "We think he is headed to the deep woods to take advantage of the cover there, but we are searching in every direction. We are increasing the patrols and putting every available Ranger and Pilot on the job, Your Highness - it should only be a matter of days." Maleine fixed the Ranger with her steely glare. "I hope so for your sake, Captain..." she paused. "Tareth, Your Highness. Captain Tareth." Maleine looked as though she had tasted his name and wanted to spit it out because she found it disgusting. "Well, I hope so for your sake, Captain Tareth. Your life depends on it." Tareth and the Pilot both shifted nervously at this. Maleine waved her bony hand. "DISMISSED!" The two soldiers spun on their heels and scrambled out of the room like they were escaping from a venomous snake. Maleine turned to the large desk behind her and addressed the small, rotund and elderly Secretary. The Secretary tapped his quill on the desk and Maleine raised her eyebrow at him. "I trust you recorded all of this accurately?" The Secretary nervously adjusted his spectacles and nodded, not daring to speak.This novel''s true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there. Maleine strode across the room to the tall arched window, and looked out at the courtyard. She coolly surveyed the perfectly manicured gardens with their white paths, and far beyond them, the high wall that surrounded the citadel. The pale sunlight glanced off her flaxen hair, almost as if it was afraid to touch her. "Good. At least somebody is doing their damned job." The Secretary shuddered as he thought to himself, damned was right. Damned indeed. The tension was shattered by a tap on the door. Maleine rolled her eyes and turned abruptly from the window, heavy silk brocade skirts rustling. The Secretary thought they sounded like something deadly in the undergrowth that was just waiting to bite you as you passed, and felt fear and disgust slither through him. "ENTER!" The huge wooden door swung open and a tall, birdlike figure slipped into the room and bowed low, waiting for permission to speak. "What is it, Danieri?" the Queen snapped. "News from the Council, Your Highness." Maleine''s moss-coloured eyes flickered with interest as Danieri offered the scroll he was carrying. She reached out a thin, pale hand and snatched it from him, shooing him away. Danieri skittered backwards out the door, almost tripping over his own feet and his long coat-tails. The heavy door swung closed with a dull thud, and Maleine opened the scroll and began to read. A smirk spread across her face as she scanned the parchment, reading the numbers and list of names of Elves who had been rounded up and either killed or imprisoned, and the names of the villages that had been torched. She skimmed the list, looking for one particular name and village....aha, there it was. She laughed, a cold, hissing sound with no joy in it whatsoever, as she read the account of the raids. The Secretary shivered again, and suddenly felt a chill. He brushed his fuzzy white hair out of his eyes, then reached into his pocket and wrapped his fingers around the small talisman he kept there, grasping it tightly for comfort. In front of the mirror, Eona shook with white-hot fury. Fire Llyraien sat, watching the rain spatter off the rocks outside the cave. It was near midday now, and the sun should have been much brighter - instead, much of the landscape looked like a watercolour painting, misty-edged and somehow not as solid as it should. From his vantage point he could see the grey stones of the flat he had sprinted across earlier, and further out, the forest below. The trees looked small from here, and if he squinted, in the distance he could just make out the spires of the citadel through the mist. He instinctively scanned the horizon to the right of the citadel, but the haze and the narrow cave entrance obscured most of the landscape. But he didn''t have to look to know what was there - the ground was black and bare, and in some places there were still wisps of smoke rising from the charred skeletons of buildings. He shuddered, shoving the memory and the sudden acrid taste in the back of his throat back beyond awareness. Somewhere outside, he thought he heard voices - still not too close by, but close enough for him to slowly edge his way to the front of the cave to try to get a better look at what was out there. He stopped about 3 feet from the opening in the rock face to listen, and the faint murmur slowly grew louder. If it was a patrol, what were they doing this far up? He had thought that only the aerial patrols would come this way. As he listened, a sense of dread began to coil in his stomach with the growing crunch of boots on rock - now he could make out a few words here and there. He cursed silently as he recognised the sound of the Ranger foot patrol, and stood stock still, straining to determine which way they were coming and how high up the ridges they were. As the boots and voices came closer, one of the Rangers laughed raucously, and Llyraien froze. He knew that laugh, had heard it before...He closed his eyes tightly against the sounds and sights flickering in his mind, and the wave of nausea that accompanied them. Oh, Eona, not now! He swallowed, trying to stay focused on the patrol outside. The voices grew louder, and now he could make out their conversation: "Aw, c''mon, Cap''n, why would ''e be all the way up ''ere? If he was, surely the birds woulda seen ''im? Thought you said he''d be inna forest by now takin'' advantage of all the cover, not up ''ere in Nomans", came one amiable-sounding but disgruntled voice. "You know as well as I do that we have orders, Corporal. My gut tells me he''d be making his way back to his village - or what''s left of it, anyway." Peals of derisive laughter met this observation before the Captain continued, "but I''d rather keep my head ON my shoulders, thanks." The rest of the patrol murmured grudging agreement with the Captain''s assessment. "Right, let''s get on with it and get out of here." Llyraien felt the back of his throat burning - with what, he wasn''t sure. Bile? Tears? Anger? He realised the patrol were on the flat below him, and stayed absolutely still, listening to which way they were heading and the conversation that might give him clues as to their plans for the direction of future patrols. They were almost unbearably close now, trudging directly underneath him... "Company...HALT!" The Captain''s voice cut into his awareness. With trepidation, he realised they were directly below the cave entrance, and that any sound or movement on his part would alert them to his presence. He felt fear trickle down his spine like a bead of sweat, and bit his lip hard to force himself to concentrate. He closed his eyes again, knowing that he couldn''t move any closer to the entrance to get a better look. He took a deep breath, and allowed himself to adjust to seeing with his eyes closed. Slowly, he projected himself forward....bit by bit, in case any of the patrolmen were perceptive enough to notice the shift in energy. The cave walls looked surprisingly less solid from this perspective, he noticed, and flinched slightly at the feeling of open space as his awareness slid through the narrow gap and to the edge of the ridge outside, much like suddenly lighting a candle in a very dark room and blinking at the brightness. He silently thanked Halador and Eona that Halador had taught him how to project his consciousness - Halador had said he had a natural aptitude for it, even though his father had protested at such a young child being taught such skills. He brought his attention back to the patrol below the ridge, where they had now decided to stop and take a rest. His awareness hovered overhead like an unseen hummingbird as the patrol members argued over whether they should climb up the ridge - it was the middle of the day already, they''d been out for hours in the rain as it was and would still have to spend hours walking back to the citadel in the wet. Besides, they could see that there was nothing and nobody up there - there''s no cover and not much but wasteland, why bother climbing all the way up just to confirm it? The patrolmen argued back and forth for a few more minutes before the Captain told all five of his subordinates to be quiet and make the best use of the rest he had allowed. He was getting too old for this nonsense, he thought to himself - he deserved better than being sent out after a solitary rogue that the Queen had a problem with. He didn''t understand why she hated this Elf in particular so much - granted, she hated Elves in general, but why this one? Oh, wait....he remembered, this Elf had defied her and refused to worship the New Gods or fall into lockstep and comply with the dictates of the Queen for Elves under her rule. But then, so had others, and she hadn''t bothered with them the way she does with this one. Tareth wondered if it was...personal. Llyraien studied the Rangers closely, one by one. He took note of their physical appearance, build and weapons, mentally cataloguing these in case the patrol did actually come up onto the ridge and discover his hiding place. His attention came to rest on the largest Ranger sitting on a granite boulder, hunched over his food. Llyraien bit his tongue to avoid making a sound as he recognised the hulking shape - the oversized, meaty hands; the head that looked like it had been chiselled as an afterthought on top of a roughly hewn block of stone. He didn''t need to see the Ranger''s face, and when the Ranger suddenly laughed at one of his companions making a joke, Llyraien''s blood ran cold. He pulled his awareness back and pressed the heel of his hands into his eye sockets as if to block out what he was seeing, but it was no use. The screams tore through his memory and he could smell the thick, bitter smoke - taste it, even. He reached into his pouch and fumbled for a moment till he found what he was looking for, and pulled out the fine silver leaf-shaped locket. Clenching it in his fist, he drew it up to his face, but did not open his eyes to look at it. If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.His body shook with silent grief, and tears rolled down his face. He shifted to bring his knees up near his face, and curled up into a ball, hands covering his head as if to protect himself from the onslaught. Below him, the patrol had finished their brief meal, and Captain Tareth sighed heavily as he scanned the rock above them. He thought he saw movement, and strained to get a better look. Damn it, was he going to have to actually go up there and investigate? He breathed a sigh of relief as a young mountain goat peered out from above him, and watched it pick its way along the rock face. He doubted anyone could climb up there, and he was certainly in no mood to do it himself. He shouldered his pack, and turned to the rest of the patrolmen. "Right then, let''s go. I see no reason to stay out in the wet any longer than we have to, and we still have the Swamp to deal with yet. This ridge is getting slippery, too - far too dangerous to try to go further up today, but I will note on the report that we will return when the weather is more conducive to a proper search. In the meantime, the air patrols will be better equipped to handle these parts." The Rangers assembled in a ragged line and started making their way back down the ridge. Once or twice somebody lost their footing and skidded a few feet, accompanied by loud cursing and occasional derisive laughter, but they trudged off toward the west and the Swamp, leaving Llyraien unnoticed in his grief. He flinched, feeling embers raining on his skin. The sky was an ungodly orange, and the heat and choking smoke was unbearable. His home was ablaze...where was she? Frantically he looked around for her, but there were dozens of Elves running in a blind panic, trying to escape the flames and the Rangers. Suddenly he heard a scream that pierced him to the core, and turned to look in the direction it had come from. Horror filled him as he saw the lumbering Ranger with a menacing grin, one unyielding arm wrapped around her delicate frame, squeezing her softly rounded belly as she kicked and screamed. The Ranger saw Llyraien and let out a laugh that chilled him to the bone. "Oh, was this yours? Not any more!" The Ranger pulled at the Elven woman''s dress, and Llyraien heard the fabric rip as he launched himself at the hulking frame. The Ranger brought up his other enormous fist, and Llyraien''s world went black. He opened his eyes slowly, painfully, and heard someone say "Oh good, he''s awake." He tried to get up, but they had tied him to a fence post and he managed to reach his knees when a rough hand grabbed his hair and pulled his head up, turning it so he could see them. She was lying face down in the dirt, hands tied above her head and her dress torn away from her body, skirts thrown up over her body, exposing her thickening waist. The big Ranger was on top of her, pinning her with his weight as she screamed in pain and terror. Llyraien felt sick, and tried to block out her screams and the grunts of the big Ranger''s exertion. He squeezed his eyes shut, but he could still see the fear and horror on her face and the chilling grin on the Ranger''s. Her screams faded to violent sobs as the Ranger finished, and then Llyraien noticed the pool of blood around her. He watched as everything suddenly appeared to happen in slow motion - the Ranger shifted his weight behind her, grabbing her long silver hair in his fist. Llyraien watched in horror as the Ranger trailed his thumb through the blood, leaned over till his face was right next to hers and muttered something in her ear as he wiped the blood onto her cheek, her eyes wide with horror and realisation. Llyraien saw a flash of steel and watched her face contort as the Ranger stood up and wiped off his blade, stepping over her as he fastened his trousers. The Ranger flipped her onto her back with his foot, and Llyraien saw her blank eyes through his tears. He didn''t see what happened next, but that was a small mercy - the big Ranger had mocked his tears and hit him again, sending him back into darkness. When he regained consciousness it was dusk, there was nothing left of the village but smouldering ruins and dead bodies, and all of the other survivors (if there were any) had been taken prisoner. He had been untied, too - either someone thought he was already dead, or thought it wouldn''t matter if he wasn''t yet because he soon would be. He groaned as he sat up, and then he saw her. He tried to stand up, and felt dizzy and nauseous. He forced himself to look - she was exactly where they had left her, lying a pool of her own blood with her mangled dress up around her waist and a gaping wound in her abdomen. Llyraien howled with grief and pain as he realised that they had put her child - their child - on the ground beside her. He dropped to his knees beside them, his tears falling on her unseeing face. As he started to form the words of the ancient prayer to send souls safely home, he gently wiped the blood and dirt from her face, brushed her hair from her pale blue eyes and closed them for the last time, kissing her forehead and tasting the salt of his own tears. He was numb as he pulled her skirts back down and adjusted the remains of her dress to cover her as best he could. He noticed that she was still wearing the silver filigree locket he had given her when she had told him about the child - he reached down and carefully untied it, then almost as an afterthought, he pulled out the tiny knife from his boot and gently, tenderly cut a small piece of her hair, folded it and put it inside the leaf-shaped locket. He took a small piece of the torn fabric of her dress to wrap the locket in, and then placed it very carefully in his pouch. Then he turned his attention to the tiny child beside her who had never had the chance to draw breath. He picked up a tattered piece of her petticoat and gently lifted the child, wrapping it in the cloth. He wiped as much of the blood off the child as he could, grieving all the more for how perfectly formed and beautiful it was - tiny rosebud lips, and even tinier pearly fingernails. It was only when he had gone to get some water to clean both mother and child and was tenderly washing the child''s fragile body, that he discovered they had a daughter. Eona watched all of the horrors unfolding in Llyraien''s mind as he sat curled up on the cold floor, her heart breaking for him. She touched the mirror again, and this time, she stepped through it. Like a warm, soft blanket, she enveloped him, wrapping around him as if he were a frightened bairn. The air in the cave rippled with her presence, and she whispered to him to calm him, "Oh, my child. I''m here." Somewhere in another time and place, Llyraien felt her presence and warmth and sank into it, exhausted.