* * * * *
Glissa stared at Kane’s remains as the mage approached. She glanced up as he drew near. What she had mistaken for a gleaming head was actually a globe like the heads of the silver flyers. Inside the globe she could see a misshapen, bald face with bulging cheek bones and an over-large skull. The robes concealed an extra set of arms she had not noticed before. He stood holding his staff and smiling at her.
“I thought that would bring you from hiding,” he said. “Now it is your turn.” The vedalken-so Glissa assumed he must be-raised his staff over his head.
The mage began to mumble, and the tip of his staff glowed with blue light. Glissa stared, motionless, and thought how easy it would be to let the vedalken win. She glanced down at her friend’s bloody remains, and something snapped inside. All the feelings she had for Kane over the past two hundred cycles-the slow progression from simple friendship to something more-boiled over and turned to rage.
“Nooo!” she screamed at the mage. Her sword slashed up and around in a blindingly fast arc. Tendrils of green energy licked at Glissa’s hands as she slashed the blade through the mage’s staff, sundering the weapon just above his upper hand. Blue energy coalesced around the top of the staff as it fell toward the ground, exploding in front of the mage’s domed head. The force of the explosion slammed Glissa to the ground and sent the vedalken mage flying backward into the trees.
Glissa scrambled to her feet. The tendrils of energy flickered up and down her battered and bloodied arms. Her face was flush from the explosion and the rage that seethed within her. She wanted to stain her sword with the blood of the murderer who had stolen every piece of her life from her, but he was nowhere to be seen. She could hear him laugh. The sound echoed through the trees.
“A point to you, Glissa,” said the laughing voice, “but my aerophuis will soon bring this game to a close.”
“This is no game,” muttered Glissa. “It’s a hunt.” She headed off toward the surrounding trees, but then her neck began to tingle again. A dozen aerophuis dived toward her. They had spread out and now streaked toward her from every corner of the clearing. She had nowhere to run. The green strands of energy enveloped the elf’s arms and chest, but in her blind rage she took no notice. She thrust into the air, ready to spear the first hawk that got too close.
She knew it would never come to that. The tingling warned her, but she didn’t budge. Bolts of blue lightning erupted from the silver-winged aerophuis. A primal rage welled up inside the elf warrior, and she screamed at her attackers.
Twelve bolts of lightning raced toward her.
The cascading energy surrounding her body rushed up her arms into the hilt of her sword. The sword glowed brighter than the yellow moon at noon over Taj Nar. The bolts of lightning curved toward the tip of the glowing sword as if drawn to the power. When the bolts hit the sword, blasts of emerald energy raced back up the blue lines and slammed into the aerophuis.
One after another, the silver-winged beasts exploded as the energy from Glissa’s sword smashed into their blue-globed heads. Shards of glass, shredded silver wings, and tails cascaded around Glissa as she collapsed on top of Kane’s dead body. With all of the energy drained from her body, she sprawled across her best friend’s remains and wept.
CHAPTER 15
Glissa lay in the clearing in a daze. The Tangle was still and calm. The battle was done, and the commotion inside Tel-Jilad couldn’t reach her. The trolls were apparently either dead or frightened off. The elves had disappeared. She had the entire forest to herself. But for the first time in her life she felt alone and out of place within the Tangle.
Glissa had never had many friends, but she had had a home, a family, and Kane. Now she had nothing. No, she amended to herself. Now she had a destiny … a destiny and a legacy of death. She stared at the ground, hardly aware of her surroundings. She heard Slobad’s voice calling her, echoing as if she stood at the edge of a great abyss.
She looked down. There was no chasm. Just blood and melted copper. Her eyes fell on something else on the ground next to her. It was a finger and thumb lying next to the shards of the mage’s staff, blue-gray and emaciated. They weren’t elven. Glissa snatched them from the ground and held them hard in her fist, rocking back and forth.
“Glissa,” called Slobad. He sounded far off. His voice echoed all around her. “Glissa. Where are you, huh?”
Was she lost? thought Glissa.
“Pick her up,” she heard someone say from a great distance. “We get her to safety, huh? Then find out what happen here.”
Glissa fell into the depths of the huge hole. The lip of the chasm passed her by, and she fell into nothingness. Her only companion was the wind rushing past her ears. Swirling shapes danced in front of her, then disappeared into the blackness. She saw her mother and father. She saw Lyese. They were reaching out to her, their mouths open as if screaming in terror. She couldn’t move. She couldn’t reach them.
There was no sound but the wind. Their screams were silent. Glissa tried to scream, but she had no voice. She saw Chunth, serene but dead. His eyes were closed. She could see the scorched hole in his chest. The charred body of Rishan floated by, writhing in agony. The elf warrior tried to run toward it, but she was running in air. She saw Kane. He was running as well, running toward her, a smile on his face. Then he was gone, a look of astonishment in his eyes just before the darkness returned.
Glissa had no idea how long she had been falling. Time had no meaning anymore. There was only the darkness and the wind. Was this her destiny? An endless fall into darkness? Or was this a punishment? Perhaps she couldn’t be killed because she had a destiny. Everyone around her paid for her destiny with their lives. Her punishment was to live in the darkness with the memories of her failure.
Next she saw Slobad and the golem in the darkness. Slobad was calling to her. She could see him mouthing the words, “Glissa, Glissa,” but she couldn’t hear him. There was only the wind. Something was different, though. Slobad wasn’t dead, at least not that Glissa remembered. The golem wasn’t really alive. What were they doing in her personal purgatory?
She concentrated on Slobad, trying to make him come closer … or go away. As she concentrated, she began to hear his words.
“Glissa,” he said. “Glissa. Are you in there? Come back, huh? Glissa!”
He seemed concerned, as did the golem. Somehow the metallic man’s ever-stoic face seemed furrowed, his eyes narrowed. He looked at Slobad and opened his mouth.
“What now?” asked the golem.
* * * * *
That raspy voice jarred Glissa back to reality. The golem had spoken. Glissa opened her eyes slowly to see the goblin and the golem standing before her just as they had in her dream. Or had it been a flare? Glissa didn’t know. The blackness dissolved into a dark red behind her two companions. Where was she? What happened to the Tangle? When did the golem learn to talk?
Glissa opened her mouth to ask these questions, but all that came out was a gurgle. She coughed and tried again.
“Slobad,” she said. “Where are we?”
The goblin smiled and slapped the golem on his iron knee. “She’s back, huh?” said the goblin. “She’s back.”
“I see,” said the golem.
A thousand questions circled around Glissa’s brain. “Where was I?” she asked at last.
“You tell us, huh?” said Slobad. “Glissa shut down in forest after aerophins attack. Not say a word in three rotations. The golem carry us to safe place.”
“Aerophins? Three rotations?” The words hurt her throat, and her mouth was dry. “Water?”
Slobad looked at the golem, who walked away. “We go to mountains,” he said. “To cultists I tell you about. To Dwugget. We safe here now.”