So, the story behind this story is that when I originally created the identity of Alaeha, I was all of fourteen, maybe fifteen, and completely new to writing. What I wound up with was a loosely bound ball of cliches and tragedy -- angst incarnate. The problem is that even apart from annoying everybody else, one dimensional characters are almost impossible to get into when you aren't in that one mood. I haven't been able to get into (or even bring myself to like) the character for ages. I would have probably abandoned her altogether except that she has my Avatar Name. That being the case, I've finally gotten off my proverbial rump to do something about it with one of the longest short stories I've written in one sitting, to date.
* * *
Stars winked in the sky, and the moon overhead illuminated the clearing. In the distance, a mouse squealed as it was snatched from the ground by an owl, and more closely, birds stirred in their sleep, readying to rise as the dawn approached. Inside her tent, Alaeha awoke to a sudden silence, and a shadow across her eyes.
Something's not right! she tried to speak, but the silence seemed impenetrable. She looked to the source of the shadow, and found herself staring at a giant eight-armed demon woman. The woman stared down at her intently, and had one arm extended toward her, as if to grab her. Alaeha lurched backward, struggling to rise as far as she could without touching the walls of her tent.
Be at ease. A gentle voice spoke in her head. I mean you no harm, and neither does my companion. There is a man outside your tent, ready to destroy you. If you will come with us, I will tell you why, and you can determine whether or not to continue your existence.
Alaeha frowned. Whoever was speaking seemed sincere... but was it the demon?
I cannot risk breaking the silence yet, as the assassin would strike instantly if he knew of our presence. If you wish further explanation, you must come. If that is your desire, signify it with a nod.
Alaeha hesitated. Demons could probably sound sincere even if they weren't... and she couldn't imagine any reason for an assassin to be out in the middle of the woods looking for her.
Then, an unbearable crushing pain struck her, and she fell to the ground, her cries muffled by the silence. If a mountain of shattered glass had fallen on her, she thought, it would have been more comfortable than whatever was happening.
We must leave, if the overlap has advanced this far already! She felt alarm in the demon's speech, and managed to thrash her head in a nod, coughing silently. Hell couldn't be that bad, compared to this, she thought.
The demoness stepped forward, and lifted the half-elf off the ground with her lowest set of arms. For a moment, Alaeha thought she heard the sound of a bird flying outsider her tent, and then everything dissolved to muted grey.
* * *
The world reappeared in the form of what appeared to be her old room at the Pen Keep. The bed was in the same place, the blankets were identical, and the desk even had the same assortment of books scattered across it, though her own notes were missing. When she looked more closely, though, she realized that the walls and floor were made of some strange black material, different from the stone of the Keep. She turned to the door to find the demon woman standing on the other side, a look of profound sadness on her face.
“Welcome to Velkyn Sreen'aur, milady,” the demon spoke with a surprisingly soft, feminine voice. It took Alaeha a moment to comprehend what she'd heard.
“Velkyn... that's the language of the dark --”
“Correct. I expected that you would recognize it.” A strange drow woman stepped into the room. “I felt it to be an appropriate name. This keep is nigh-on impenetrable, and because it constantly rearranges itself, only those who know the place can navigate it. But that's not why I summoned you.” She paused.
“Go on.” Alaeha sat on the bed, a perfect duplicate of her own, “you wouldn't have done all this,” she gestured at the room around her, “if you meant to harm me. But first, may I have your name?”
“Of course.” The woman made a courtly bow. “I am Ilmaeune. My companion,” she gestured toward the demoness, “ is called Irys. You are correct in the assumption that I mean you no harm. I prepared these accommodations because I was unsure how much time we had. It would appear that we have very little. The truth is that we stand at a junction: two largely similar realities are about to merge, and one way or another you won't be the same for it.”
“Wait...” Alaeha looked at the drow woman in confusion. “What's this, again? Two realities?”
Ilmaeune sighed. “Have you ever woken up in the morning, not sure of what shirt to wear, and just decided on one randomly?”
Alaeha nodded. “Of course.”
“Well, in a different world, you decided on a different shirt. There are countless variations on every day, so there are an infinite number of realities along those lines. Someone in this reality has precipitated a partial merging between this reality and another one, where things didn't happen the same way.”
“So... what's the problem?” Alaeha asked, “If you're right, things will change and nobody will ever know that they were any different.”
Ilmaeune shook her head. “If this were a total merge, you would be right, for the most part. This being a partial breach, that isn't the case. The assassin sent after you was intended to cover up the mistake and keep the masses unaware of the fluid nature of the realities.”
“So why did you bring me here?” Alaeha asked, confusion written on her face, “I'm still not clear on that.”
“Because what's changing is you. People deserve choices, strange as it must be for you to hear such a thing come from my lips.” Ilmaeune smiled bitterly and, at Alaeha's nod, raised a hand to show that her fingers ended not in nails, but short, sharp claws. “I learned from my mother, and inherited her views. I brought you here specifically because this is the seat of my power, and here I can hold the process in stasis for a short time, long enough to speak to you personally and make sure that you know the truth and have the chance to choose for yourself.
“I don't know how you will be changed,” she continued, “but I can offer you this choice: if you die, that part of you that continues to exist will remain unaffected. If you live, you as you now are will cease to exist, but I can ensure that your memories of the past you've had remain.”
Alaeha stared. “So... you're telling me that I'm going to die.”
“After a fashion.” The other woman nodded.
“And there's no way around this? Nothing that can avert it?”
“Nothing.” Ilmaeune shook her head. “The contact has already taken place. Think of a ball of cloth dipped into a bucket of water. The water has already made contact with the cloth. It may take time for it to penetrate to the core of the ball, but in time it will do so.”
“and if I die, that would be like throwing the cloth into the breath of a dragon, keeping the water from taking over by destroying the water and the cloth.”
“A suitable continuation of the metaphor, I suppose.” The drow nodded.
“And this person, this 'new' Alaeha would die as well?”
“That seems a reasonable assumption, and the most likely reason that there would be assassins intent on destroying you before it happens.”
“Then...” Alaeha paused, and sighed. “I choose to live. Whoever I might have been, she deserves the chance to exist as well.” She stood. “Until then, may I tour your castle? It's been weeks since I've seen civilization.”
“Of course.” Ilmaeune beckoned her forth, “You'll want to see the libraries.”
* * *
The women sat at a table covered with books, absorbed in conversation.
“So your mother was a dragon?” Alaeha blinked, “and your father didn't know?”
Ilmaeune nodded. “When he met her, she looked like this:” She gestured to the side, and an illusion of an attractive, ebon-skinned human woman appeared. “She used magic to disguise herself.”
“I see.” Alaeha smiled, but the smile turned quickly to a frown. “Something's not... right.”
A book lifted off a nearby desk, and began to emit a screaming noise as it flew around the room.
* * *
To Alaeha, it seemed that the world had suddenly gone completely mad. Thousands upon thousands of translucent faces leered around her, filling the air and overlapping one another. One began to speak, and then another, and she could hear nothing but a babble of thousands of voices. She spun, to turn her back on them, and found herself looking down on what seemed a haunted battlefield.
Bodies lay heaped, one upon the other, covered in what seemed years of dust. Somehow, the wounds were still fresh and they looked as if they had just been slain. Gray mists flowed around her, and she found herself standing on a hill looking down on a chapel with an unfamiliar symbol on it.
“A Chapel of Balys,” she murmured. “Goddess of Valor.”
A pair of children, a boy and girl, played in front of the building. As she approached, they disappeared. She entered the chapel to find the floor sticky with blood, a man in priest's garb pinned to the altar by a sword driven through his chest. She tried futilely to remove the black blade, only to have an unrecognized, yet hauntingly familiar man lay his hand on her shoulder from behind. He shook his head, and stepped forward to lift the sword from the altar in a single easy lift. The man stood two feet taller than she did, but the sword was taller yet. Compelled, Alaeha reached forward to touch it, only to jerk back, for the blade felt hot to the touch. The man walked past her, and she turned to follow him.
She found herself standing on a small ship, hair flowing free in the wind. Absently, she noted with a trace of confusion that her hair was... black. The spirits, for that was what they were, gathered around her in obeisance, and she realized that they were as much a part of her as was her own skin. She floated over the edge and fell, slowing as she neared the ground to land on a bridge lit by glowing magical spheres. A bear-like man leaped down from another bridge nearby, slicing deeply into her arm with long, tough claws. She staggered back and sang out a note with a purity which shocked the part of her that rode along in the back of her mind, watching what happened. Called down by her voice, lightning struck her attacker, an he crumpled to the ground in a heap.
And then she was back on her ship. She didn't know how she knew, but the ship was hers. Kyanus, the giant of a man who had drawn the black sword, stood before her with sword drawn. Grimnier stood by him, holding his two-bladed sword, Aelozi, at the ready. He spoke, but his words were lost in the wind.
The phantasms which had brought her here flowed around her, and she directed them toward Grimnier. So unprepared was he that, when they struck and the ship lurched, he was carried over the edge of the ship. So caught was she in watching Grimnier's last moments aboard that Kyanus' charging strike whistled through the air past her head. With a roar of frustration, she willed the ship to drop, and as her less ship wise opponent staggered to catch his balance, she struck, impaling his right wrist as he brought the blade up to strike at her again.
The sword flew out of his grasp, over the edge of the ship, and she leaped after it, commanding the spirits around her to slow the sword's fall. She snatched it, ignoring the burning pain and its attempt to bond with her mind. The spirits had badgered her mind for years, no mere object could muster force to compete with that.
She landed painfully on a large metal disc flying through the air, and darkness engulfed her.
* * *
Irys watched as the half-elf shuddered, lying on the floor. She had endured much to rise to prominence in the abyss, only to have it all taken away by the sorceress she now guarded. Even so, she would sooner endure it all again than to be unraveled and rewoven by the threads of reality. The girl screamed, and thunder boomed outside. A glow engulfed her, and grew until it was too painfully bright for even the demoness to look. When it dimmed, the girl had changed, becoming... harsher, Irys thought, was the best term. The utilitarian traveler's clothes had become a pair of black leather pants and string-backed blue corset. For a moment, a purple glyph was visible covering the majority of the woman's back, but then a black cloak materialized and covered the majority of her form. Finally, as the light around her darkened into nothingness, her hair darkened as well, changing slowly from the platinum blonde it had been to an almost unnaturally dark black.
Books flew about the windless room, and it seemed that an army filled the room, based on the raging howls that seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere. Irys folded her lower arms around Ilmaeune to ward off flying objects, and grimaced as a dark storm cloud began to form in the library above them.
“What is this girl?” She bellowed to be heard over the howls and thunder.
Ilmaeune stepped nimbly out from Irys' embrace. You know better than to ask me that, She spoke telepathically. I don't look into the worlds of might-have-been. That's what leads to situations like this, and we're all fortunate that this is all that happened. She threw her arms out to the side, and her books flew back to their shelves, where they were covered with shimmering green barriers of force.
With a wry grin, Ilmaeune allowed the ensuing rain to to drench her. I've been needing to get outside anyway, and she's kind enough to bring the outdoors inside for me!
* * *
Alaeha became aware of herself slowly, and in stages.
Wet, she thought. I'm wet. And my hand burns.
She rolled over onto her side and brought her hand down to reveal that it was still wrapped around Kyanus' sword. “Damnable sword...” She grunted, “teach me to trust a frigging crusader to resist temptation.”
She forced herself to her feet, using the black sword as a crutch and ignoring the growing burning in her hand. Gesturing with her left hand, she murmured a sing-song cantrip and brought the hand to rest on the top of her head. The water slid off her body and clothes, repelled by magic.
“Impressive.” A voice came from behind her and she spun, raising the sword in alarm. “There's no cause for worry, so put the sword down.”
Alaeha nodded, letting the blade fall to the stone, where its built-up heat caused a pillar of steam to rise up. “I remember you... but I've never met... no, I did meet you. You warned me.”
The drow woman, Ilmaeune, nodded. “I keep my promises.” Her eyes fell to the sword on the ground and widened.
Alaeha looked down at the sword, and at her burnt hand. She narrowed her eyes, and turned her attention to the spirits that filled the air around her. Maharis, Kira, you've got some connection to that sword, take it to her. The sword lifted and slowly floated toward Ilmaeune. “You know something about this thing?” She spoke aloud, “it cost me the only companions who actually believed me when I talked about my home world.”
Ilmaeune shook her head. “I only know its name, but it's a thing I'd rather not have in my home. Take the Black Vengeance of Voxinov with you when you leave.”
Alaeha glowered at the sword, and grasped its hilt defiantly with the hand it had burned. I'm about out of patience with you, Voxinov. We'll be having no more of this nonsense. You can burn me all you wish, but whether on a ship or in my own life, I'm the one who sets my course.
The sword shook for a moment, glowing a dull red, but Alaeha kept a stony expression as her palm blistered, and then smoked. To dull the pain, she scattered her attention in a thousand other places, listening to the spirits as they nattered on about this or that – after all, who else would listen to them? Finally, Voxinov cooled and settled, becoming surprisingly light in her grasp. She returned to herself and gave the sword a brilliant smile, and a wink, and turned to her hostess.
“You don't happen to have a sheath for an excessively large sword, do you?” Alaeha turned to the sorceress, and laughed at the woman's expression. “I've had to learn a bit of healing. I made Grimnier wait longer than this'll take while he was holding his guts in with one hand, my own hand can wait until I've got a good place to put this infernal thing.”
* * *
Alaeha looked around her tent. It seemed odd to think of the tent as hers, but then it probably was weird having two sets of memories of how she'd spent the past ten years. She had to duck to keep from poking a hole in the top with Voxinov, but she hadn't been planning to come into the tent with an eight foot long phallic symbol strapped to her back.
“All right, that's it. Somebody must've warned her that we were coming, somehow.” A voice came from outside her tent. “Burn the stupid thing so she won't have shelter if she comes back, and let's try to track her. Boss said she had to die today, and you know how he gets when you don't do the job exactly as he says.”
Alaeha shook her head. People in this world were idiots. She'd been raiding the coast of Shalys for years now, and if the Nightstands couldn't kill her, neither could assassins who weren't sharp enough to kill her while she slept.
She leaped from the tent, drawing her own sword, Jhyladi, as she continued to float upward to survey the scene on the ground.
A pair of men clad in brown and green were next to her tent. One stood with his back to her, holding a sword and scanning the trees, and the other knelt with flint and steel in his hands, apparently absorbed in lighting his torch.
Anger filled her, and she felt the mark on her back grow warm. She dove toward the swordsman, catching him off-guard and driving her blade through his shoulder.
“And why do I need to die?” Alaeha growled, still floating above the ground. Her words were punctuated by a fierce blast of wind, which knocked over the man – a boy, really – with the torch. The swordsman staggered forward, his blade dropping from unresponsive fingers, and ran. Suddenly incredibly tired, Alaeha sang a lightning bolt, striking in front of the would-be assassin and halting him.
She floated over, and put herself inches from the man's face. “Now, I don't know who sent you, but at the moment I don't much care. I want you to go back to your boss and tell him something for me. Tell him that, woman or no, I'm still a better man than he is.”
She tweaked the nose of the would-be assassin, allowing him to sense the spirits that carried her through the air. He half-leaped, half-fell backwards, panic written clearly on his face, and ran away. She couldn't help a grin as she walked back to her tent, finding it untouched and the boy gone. Spending all that time traveling with Grimnier had been good for something other than convincing the coastal villages that she was a crazed sadist. Now she had to get back to that Pen Keep place she remembered... she still owed that elf a date, and he was a better man than Kyanus could have ever dreamed of being.
* * *
“Pen Keep? Now how would I be knowing where a place like that is, lady?” the merchant asked, “I just sell dishes. Now if it's finery to set your table you want, I'm the one you should be talking to...”
Alaeha stifled a yawn. This man was half as slimy as Wyvern, but without all the charm. She imagined the man with dull red scales, claws, and three unbuttoned formal shirts with a variety of stains. With an inward grin, she sent Maharis and Kira, to lift one of his “fine plates” and set it down gently.
“Ostar sells the finest plates in all the... city of...” the merchant, Ostar, trailed off and snatched at the plate. “Ye're not a mage, are ye?” He eyed her suspiciously. A nice change of pace, she thought, from the lecherous variety of look he'd been giving her thus far.
Alaeha feigned incredulity. “Me? Do I look like a mage, man? I couldn't magic my way through an open door, let alone lift dishes! Don't go trying to saddle me with derogations that obviously belong to you.”
She turned her back on Ostar, smirking as he stammered incomprehensibly behind her. Children played in the street ahead of her, and she noticed a little girl with black hair sitting off to the side. She moved silently, and sat down next to the girl.
“It's more fun if you play too, you know.” Alaeha gave the girl a wink.
“I know...” the girl said. “but nobody wantsta play with me 'cause I'm p, poss, possesseded, or somethin'. I'm a demon.”
“Do you act like a demon?” Alaeha cocked her head to the side, looking at the girl more closely.
“I don't think so,” the girl pulled her hair out of her face, revealing mismatched eyes, one green and one brown, “but they all say I must be.”
Alaeha shook her head. “You're no more a demon than I am, girl.”
“Am too! Jesse says I'm possessed, and he's the priest of Kelna!”
“Ok then, what's your name?”
“Tessa.”
Alaeha sighed, but then nodded. She lifted the girl up toward the sky, and flew up a couple of feet into the air. She whispered a spell that would make her voice carry farther, and began to recite a prayer she'd heard an exorcist speak months before.
“I exorcise thee, vile spirits, back to the pit from whence ye came; by the power of Taral Ozia, I command that ye depart from this child, Tessa, that she may be found clean in the eyes of our Lady, and judged worthy of joining her in the blessed glade.” Alaeha smiled at the girl's befuddlement, and the murmurings of the crowd. “Child, do you renounce the demon?”
Tessa nodded mutely, and then stammered “I -- I do.”
“Then let the light of our Lady drive out the evil and cleanse the spirit!” Alaeha dismissed the projection spell, and called up that feeling of heat in her glyph, willing for the clouds overhead to part and allow the sun to shine on Tessa.
Seconds passed, and her back grew uncomfortably warm before Tessa blinked, and then sneezed at light shone in her eyes. Alaeha settled down to the ground, and set the girl down with a smile. “You'll always have mismatched eyes, but you won't have to worry about being an instrument of evil.”
Tessa looked up at the half-elf in muted awe, and then threw herself around Alaeha's legs in a tear-filled embrace.
“Hey, Tessa!” A boy called, and looked down when she turned to him. He kicked at a rock, obviously uncomfortable. “We're, uh, sorry about before. You can come play hide 'n' seek with us if you want.”
Tessa beamed, and nodded.
Alaeha bent down to whisper in her ear: “Don't ever let people tell you that just because you're different, you're bad, or not good enough. Now go play. You deserve it.” She gave the girl a parting hug of her own, and set off in what she thought – hoped – was the direction of the Keep.
* * *
Alert! We are approaching a stronghold! There is strong magic ahead! a spirit cried, snapping Alaeha's wandering attention away from the conversations around her and back to the road ahead of her. Floating upward with the aid of her spirits, she climbed up above the hill's crest, and looked down on the Pen Keep.
“No need for worry,” she murmured, “I'm home.”
