Chapter 2

2.1: What Lies in Dreams

Elaina pulled Shatter free of the Troll’s skull, grimacing at the sound of cracking bone as the sharp spikes decorating the mace came loose. She’d never gotten used to that sound and hoped she never did. Killing was necessary, sometimes, but she still didn’t like it. The Troll fell still, though its limbs twitched sporadically as it died. With a sigh, she wiped her face with the back of her hand where a spray of dark green blood had caught her. The action was probably pointless; there was likely more blood on her hands than her face, and judging by the look Noah shot her - the meldin was pulling his arrow free of a dead Goblin’s eye not far away - she was a bloody sight indeed. Hanging Shatter back on her belt loop, she pulled her dagger from the small sheath at her belt and set about removing the Troll’s head to prevent it regenerating. It was times like this she wished for a sword over a mace.

Almost a full day had she and Noah been fighting band after band of darkspawn roaming the Hills of Gaela, fragments of the larger force heading north, the one that had rolled over Vesovar like a grim tide. It was late in the day, and the thick grey clouds above let little sunlight through, but the two dozen bodies littering the ground around Elaina and Noah were plain, even without the help of the vala.

The Hills of Gaela was a series of just that: hills, rises and ridges. Some rolling like gentle waves, some rising sharply to an angular crest, with hollows and valleys between. Farms were scattered about this region as well as a few villages, though what Elaina had seen so far made her think the villages were either abandoned or destroyed. The goal was to reach Noah’s family’s farmstead in all haste, but the darkspawn were making that difficult.

“We should go,” Noah said firmly as he wiped the arrow clean on the grass next to the Goblin’s body. The weariness in his voice was veiled by determination, but Elaina could clearly feel it through the melda. “It’s only another couple of hours’ ride.”

She went to him, stepping over the intervening bodies. “Do you want to rest for a minute?” She asked him gently. “You are pushing yourself hard.” She felt his refusal before he shook his head. “Very well. Let’s ride.”

They jogged a short distance to where they’d left the horses beneath a stand of pine and leatherleaf, and moments later they were moving north again. The sun set fully and they rode on in the dark, Elaina using her vala to guide Willow safely, Noah following closely behind. A steady rain began to fall maybe an hour after sunset, but she hardly felt it. She kept her fears for Noah’s family under a tight control, knowing he would feel it in her. There was no sign of any darkspawn between the time they left the last and when Noah kicked his horse to a canter and announced they were close to the farmstead. Careless of his horse’s legs, Noah charged straight up the next hill and over the crest. Cursing, Elaina followed, booting Willow to a gallop. The sleek mare ran well, even after a hard day, and she caught up to the grey gelding just as he hit the base of the hill and entered the fields surrounding a good-sized house, two levels of red brick with large, square windows looking out onto the fields. Elaina breathed a sigh of relief when she saw light in the lower windows and smoke rising from one of the three chimneys jutting from the tiled roof.

“I should make sure it’s safe!” She called to Noah as he ploughed ahead. Muttering an oath about his stupidity, she expanded her vala and almost fell off Willow in shock. The house was empty save for one girl barely old enough to have reached her majority. And that girl was an arohim. Elaina could feel the weak, feeble flicker of an untrained vala, even from this distance. She raced on, pulling in Willow as they cleared the fields. In the wide arc of hard-packed earth that separated house and fields, Noah threw himself from the saddle before his grey had come to a complete stop. He made for the front door, but it opened before he could get to it.

The girl stood there in a simple blue cotton dress, holding up a lantern and peering out into the darkness. She was tall, slender and pretty, her long auburn hair tied back away from her pale face. She squinted out into the night. “Noah!” She burst out in surprise when he stepped into the light.

“Edda!” He breathed with relief as he took her into his arms. “I was so worried.” He pulled back and looked her over, his hands on her shoulders. “Are you well? Has anything happened, here?”

“What do you mean?” Edda asked curiously. “Nothing ever happens, here. You know that.” She grinned suddenly. “Who is your friend? And what have you been doing? Is that blood on you?” She looked down at her dress and made an irritated noise when she saw the grime transferred to her from Noah’s hug.

Noah didn’t seem to hear her questions. “Mother!” He called as he stepped past Edda. “Father!”

Heart aching, Elaina opened her mouth to tell Noah there was no one else home, but Edda beat her to it. “They’ve gone to Vesovar!” She yelled from the doorway. “They were due back yesterday, but I suppose they’ve been delayed. It happens, sometimes.” The volume of her voice dropped as Noah reappeared, his face pale beneath the dirt and blood. He walked back out into the night and stood there for a moment, staring off to the south, past the fields of corn toward Vesovar.

“It doesn’t mean anything,” Elaina said gently as she went to him. “They might be on the road, on their way here right now.” His emotions were a jumble of fear, sorrow, grief and anger.

“What is it?” Edda asked as she stepped out into the rain, heedless of the wet and the mud beneath her bare feet. “Something has happened, hasn’t it? Master Windlow was due here this morning with some more chickens, but he didn’t come, and I saw smoke coming from the direction of Ambrey this afternoon.”

Noah said nothing for long moments. “Vesovar was attacked,” he said finally, barely audible over the pattering of the rain. “Darkspawn. The town was overrun maybe four nights past.” He sounded numb, but inside he was boiling. Elaina didn’t know how he wasn’t exploding. She placed a comforting hand on his shoulder.

“Are they-? Do you think-?” Unable to bring herself to finish the questions, Edda went silent.

“We are going to find them,” Elaina said firmly to them both. “And bring them back, one way or another.”

Noah’s shoulders lifted as he took a deep breath. Turning, he eyed Elaina with a grim determination. From his emotions, it seemed as if he’d accepted his family’s death already. Elaina hoped it wasn’t true. “One way or another,” he repeated. “Edda, stay here and bar the doors and windows. Let no one in. Hide in the basement until we return. Can you do that?”

Fear widened Edda’s grey eyes. “You’re going to leave me here?”

Elaina shook her head. “We cannot, Noah. It is too dangerous. It is a miracle she has not been found already.”

“What do you mean?” He asked as his gaze flicked back and forth between the two women.

Elaina smiled at Edda and touched her with her vala. Edda gasped as she felt an answering resonance from inside herself. “She is like me. She is arohim.” Noah’s jaw fell open. “We cannot leave her here. She has no control over what she does. How she has avoided the Heralds, much less the darkspawn in the region, I am curious to discover, but that will have to wait. We must leave now.”

“I’m a what?” Edda asked, confusion painting her pretty face.

“I’ll explain later,” Elaina assured her. “Time is short, young one. We need to be gone.”

Noah shook himself out of his daze and chivvied his sister into action, sending her inside to grab what she needed. No more than two minutes later, the siblings reappeared, each with a fat scrip over their shoulders. Edda had even changed into more suitable travelling clothes; a pair of snug breeches, well-worn boots and a brown tunic over a white shirt. An unstrung short bow stuck up over her shoulder and a bristling quiver hung at her waist. An oiled cloak was draped over her shoulders to keep the rain off.

“Father doesn’t like me dressing like a boy,” Edda said when she saw Elaina look her over. “But it’s hard to hunt in a dress.”

Elaina grinned. “I feel the same way. Never cared much for dresses.”

Noah mumbled something about a horse and hurried off toward the barn at the western edge of the yard. Edda was looking at Elaina curiously. “Why do I feel like I’ve known you forever, instead of a few minutes?”

“Because of what we are, young one,” Elaina replied. “Our gift unites us, binds us more strongly than blood ever could.”

Edda pursed her lips. “You call me ‘young one,’ but I am only a few years younger than you, you know.”

Elaina gave her a level look. “You might be surprised, you know.” She decided that quite apart from the vala, she liked Edda Stoneman. Noah emerged from the barn then, leading a stout grey mare that looked as if she’d seen better days. She was saddled, though.

“Here, Edda,” Noah said to his sister as he handed her the reins. “Leave the lantern. We won’t need it.”

“But how will we see where we’re riding?” She protested as Noah took the lantern from her. “Especially in this.” She gestured to the sky.

He jerked his head toward Elaina. “We have her. Now mount up. Time is short.” She did as instructed, swinging herself into the saddle with ease, but she did grumble about having to ride this particular horse. According to Edda’s mutters, Dancer was the only horse available, and not the best one on the farm by a mile. How the rotund mare had earned her name was a mystery to Elaina. A few moments later Elaina and Noah were also mounted and Elaina was leading the party away from the house and back into the fields. She was uncertain whether to expand her vala out wide to sense the area, or to keep it close in, just around the three of them. A wide berth meant they would be more obvious to the enemy, but would also grant them time to run or prepare to fight. A short berth meant they would be more hidden, but might also be surprised, or ambushed. In the end, she opted for the middle ground, keeping her vala out at a hundred yards or so.

The rain persisted as they exited the tall fields of corn and headed south at a canter. On Noah’s suggestion, they rode parallel to the rough dirt road that connected the farm to a wider, more used road that branched off to other farms and villages in the Hills. If Noah’s family had been between Vesovar and home, they would be on this road.

‘Aros, let them be alright,’ Elaina prayed silently as she rode ahead. The road to their right was out of sight to the naked eye, but she could sense it well enough. It wound around the largest hills and ridges while climbing right over the smaller. A grave silence surrounded the party of three, riding in a close line with Edda behind Elaina and Noah in the rear. The meldin felt like a bowstring pulled to its limit. One inch more pressure ... Elaina could not blame him. If it were her own family in danger, she would be much the same. A pang of sadness gripped her heart as she thought of her mother and father and her younger brother. How long since she’d seen their faces? More than thirty years, now. Were they still alive? If so, did they still feel the same about her, or had the long years softened them? Pushing the wishful thought from her mind, she resumed her focus. She had people to protect, and that was more important than any childish wish she harboured to regain her family’s affections.

It was after about three hours of riding that Elaina first sensed the overturned wagon beside the road. There was no sign of life, and thankfully, no bodies, though clothing and other belongings were scattered about haphazardly. The horse was still lying between the wagon shafts, barely more than a carcass. The poor animal had been fed upon while still alive. There was no sign of darkspawn around, but around the wagon she could feel small footprints in the ground, close to those of a Human child, but not quite. “This way!” She called over her shoulder as she angled for the road and kicked Willow to a gallop. In the shallow stretch between two low hills she reined in and dismounted before the wagon. “They are not here!” She shouted to Noah and Edda over the rain, which had intensified in the last few minutes. Nearby, Noah was out of his saddle and bending to pick up a white dress from the muddy ground. He felt the grassy ground around it gently with his fingers.

“What do you sense?” He asked her as he straightened. “I can see nothing in this!” He glanced up at the sky in frustration.

“Goblins,” Elaina said with distaste. “I think there were Goblins here.”

“Fuck!” Noah shouted, gripping the dress tightly in his fist.

“What is it?” Edda called in an unsteady voice. She was still in her saddle a few feet behind them. Elaina could feel the fear rolling off the poor girl in waves as she stared at the dark mound lying in front of the wagon. “Is that Betsy? Where are Mother and Father and Orra?” Noah didn’t answer her, and Elaina did not know what to say. Noah and she both knew the unpleasant truth about what Goblins did with women. What they’d done to Noah’s father was unknown, but he was likely to suffer the same fate as the horse, if he had not already.

“Which way?” Noah asked. Elaina pointed northwest, across the road. Several dozen sets of Goblin tracks led off in that direction. It was fortunate the ground was softened by the rain; Goblins were light, and their feet left little impression on most ground. Without a word, Noah stalked to his horse and mounted. As he passed, Edda eyed the dress in his fist, and while she said nothing, Elaina felt her fear and worry escalate.

Wasting no time, Elaina threw herself onto Willow and nudged her into motion, rounding the wagon as she started off west. She felt the three bodies lying in a pile before she saw them, only a few minutes’ ride from the road. She felt like weeping as she pulled up and looked back at Noah and Edda. “Where?” Was all Noah said in a hoarse voice. He would have felt Elaina’s pain through the melda.

“Noah,” she began, but he cut her off with a shake of his head.

“Don’t,” he said tightly. “Just point.” She did, and felt a hot tear mingling with the cold rain on her cheek as Noah followed her finger toward the next hill. Edda went with him, glancing at Elaina briefly as she passed. Elaina trailed behind them, but let them have their space; this was their family, after all.

She crested the hill and descended the other side. At the base, Noah was on his knees next to three bodies; two women and one man, all stripped bare and left in the rain like refuse. Noah’s grief stabbed into Elaina’s heart like a knife, twisting after the thrust. His sister knelt next to him, sobbing into her hands. Elaina wrapped them both in her vala as strongly as she knew how as she dismounted and went to them, kneeling in the mud between them and taking each of them under an arm, holding them close. That was when Noah began to cry.

They buried the bodies back at the farmstead that night in the family plot, at the far end of the eastern fields where Noah’s grandparents and their parents rested. It was a beautiful spot by a small stream beneath an ancient oak. The sky was lightening in the east as the last of the dirt was smoothed over the graves. To Elaina’s surprise, Noah and Edda wanted her to offer the last rites, and so she said the words to send them off to a peaceful rest in Aros’ hand until it was their time to come again. After, the three stood there in silence for a long time, looking at the three fresh mounds of earth beneath the tree.

“Thank you,” Edda said softly as she wiped her cheeks.

“I am sorry,” Elaina told the younger woman. “I could not help them.” She felt tears sliding down her own cheeks. Noah’s pain was thundering through the melda, reminding her of the day many years ago she’d lost Kellen, and the months of anguish that followed. Edda’s was lesser, but she was aligned with the girl, and it added another boulder on top of the mountain already upon her. She could shut Edda out, but it wouldn’t be right. Not now.

“You did what you could,” Noah said as he put an arm around her shoulders. Why was he comforting her? He was the one who’d just lost most of his family in one night! She thought about pushing him away and taking him up in a comforting embrace, but instead she found herself being drawn into his side she began to weep. Gods, it hurt! How Noah was still upright was a mystery to her. On his other side, he pulled Edda beneath his free arm and held her while she shook against him. They stayed like that for a time, until Elaina gently withdrew and kissed Noah softly as a thank you for his strength. When the sun was just peeking over the hills, the three retired to the farmhouse to rest.

2.2: To Live Again

Aran stood in a ready stance, knees bent and left foot forward. He held his mace high in his right hand and his buckler steady on the other arm. The huge black wolf, as tall as his shoulder with fangs as long as his fingers, advanced slowly, red eyes gleaming like rubies in the afternoon light. Behind him, a panting woman scrabbled to her feet hurriedly, ready to run. ‘Jeira. That’s right. Her name is Jeira. I was sent here by Elaina to help her. Wait, who is Elaina?’ He shook his head to clear the muddled thoughts and they faded like mist before a morning sun.

As the wolf gathered itself on powerful haunches, Aran reached into his vala, only to find it was not there. Stunned, he tried again, but the light that had been inside him as long as he could remember was absent as if it had never been. In that moment, he felt as vulnerable and naked as a newborn babe left out in the rain, and he felt something he’d never truly felt before, for he’d never had to know it. Fear.

Heart racing, he braced himself for the wolf’s leap, already feeling those huge jaws closing over his throat, snapping his neck like a twig. The wolf jumped forward, and Aran swung his mace with a roar, already knowing it was not enough. The spiked steel dug into the beast’s shoulder, and teeth that were aimed for Aran’s throat instead turned to snap at the haft of the mace. The sheer weight and size of the wolf knocked Aran aside like a sapling before a rock slide, pushing the edge of his buckler up into his face and sending him sprawling to the ground. His breath came in panicked gasps; he’d been winded, and pain lanced from his cheek where the buckler had hit him. With an effort, he got to his feet to see the wolf pull the mace out of its shoulder and snap the haft between its teeth like a toothpick. The spiked ball and handle clattered to the ground, useless.

Aran glanced at Jeira, who stood there white-faced and wide-eyed, frozen in fear. Faster than Aran could imagine the wolf moving, it turned suddenly and leaped for Jeira. Time seemed to slow down. A look of shock crossed Jeira’s pretty face as she raised her arms defensively. Her scream pierced Aran’s heart as jaws closed over one of her arms and teeth rent her flesh. Visions flashed through his mind of her with him, kissing him, loving him, laughing and crying with him, as if they’d known each other before this, but that could not be true.

He didn’t realise he was moving until he was picking up the jagged haft of his mace from the ground, a foot of wood against a three-hundred-pound animal. A scream was coming out of his mouth, a rage and wrath he’d never known. Primal, ancient, powerful. He threw himself at the wolf’s side and plunged the splintered wood into its ribs with every ounce of his strength. The hardened ash sank deep, and Aran pushed until only an inch or two protruded from the black fur.

The wolf yelped in pain and released Jeira. She fell to the ground, shaking uncontrollably as she clutched a bloody, ruined arm. Aran went to her as the wolf stumbled a few paces off and collapsed, its chest rising and falling with laboured panting. Wasting no time, he tore a sleeve from his shirt and began to bind her arm above the wound. It was bad. Blood flowed from the gaping gashes in time with her pulse, seeping over her other hand and dripping down onto her dress. He doubted she would be able to keep the arm if she didn’t get proper help soon.

“I’ll get you to a healer,” he promised as he wrapped the makeshift bandage. “I won’t leave you.” Her eyes met his, and he saw fear in them, but it was receding, replaced by faith that he would help her.

“Thank you,” she whispered before her eyes rolled back in her head. She went limp in his arms, whether from shock or blood loss, he didn’t know. At that moment, he felt himself being pulled away to somewhere else.

“No!” He shouted, trying to hold onto himself as he faded to mist. Jeira slumped from his suddenly ethereal arms onto the ground. “I won’t leave her!” He didn’t know why, but this woman was important to him, somehow. Crucial.

The world faded to blackness.

He was standing in a forest of oak and elm and poplar, ancient and tall, the afternoon sunlight dimmed by the dense canopy above, giving the wood an eerie, ominous feel. His boots sunk into on thick mulch, wet and earthy. Occasional thin shafts of light penetrated the canopy to illuminate spider webs hanging between some of the trees, though much larger than any Aran had ever seen.

A movement next to him brought his head around to see a stunningly beautiful Elf looking at him with startling green eyes slightly too large to belong on a Human. She was dressed in tight breeches and a tunic all in forest greens and browns, with a bow in one hand and a quiver on her back. A name brushed his mind as he looked into those emerald eyes, but it vanished as quickly as it had come.

“You said you would help me find my sister,” the Elf said in a lilting, flowing accent. “Have you changed your mind already?”

Aran found himself shaking his head. “No.”

The Elf looked relieved. “Then come. We must be getting close.” She glided forward, barely making a sound even on the blanket of dead leaves that carpeted the ground. Aran did his best to mimic her, but beside her graceful, delicate steps, he felt like a bull in a potter’s showroom. He must have been making too much noise, for she eyed him with irritation after the first few steps and raised a finger to her lips. Aran did his best to be quiet. He reached for something inside himself that he knew would give him the agility he needed to move like her, or perhaps even better, but there was nothing there. In fact, it now felt strange that he had reached for anything at all. ‘What was I thinking I would find?’ He asked himself silently. But that thought soon faded, too, lost forever as he followed the Elf. The spider webs grew larger and more numerous as they went, many of them more than large enough to hold three or four men, and the thick, silky strands certainly looked strong enough to do just that.

A short distance on, the Elf dropped to her belly and began to wriggle forward up a small rise. He followed, doing his best to copy her motions until they were side by side and looking down into a hollow thick with webs and large, white rounded shapes that could only be cocoons. Aran’s belly tightened in fear as a massive spider as big as a draught horse skittered across the base of the hollow, tending to this web and that before hurrying to the next one.

The next few moments happened faster than Aran could believe. One moment, the Elf was lying on her belly next to him. The next, she was on her feet and loosing an arrow at the spider. Her shot flew true and struck it in the centre of its eight eyes. A piercing, shrill scream echoed around the hollow as it danced and writhed in pain before collapsing.

Another scream brought Aran’s eyes up to the canopy directly above him, where another spider was lowering itself down, its gaze fixed on him. An arrow sunk into its fat, hairy body, making it cry out in pain, but it continued its descent. “Move!” The Elf cried as she threw herself to the side. Aran rolled instinctively, just clearing the spider’s claw-tipped feet as the stabbed into the ground where he’d been. Scrambling up, he realised he’d drawn his mace and buckler. Another arrow suddenly protruded from the spider’s side, but that did not stop its rush at Aran. He took the first thrust of a sharp leg on his buckler, but the second pushed past his block and raked his shoulder, tearing his shirt and tunic like paper and gashing the skin beneath. Howling in pain, he swung frantically, but hit only air. He went to raise his buckler as the spider thrust again, but the claw had cut something in his shoulder, rendering that arm useless.

The spider stepped over him, baring fangs that dripped with steaming venom, and Aran stared his death in the face. Tightening his grip on his mace, he prepared to swing it one last time. As the fangs descended, he roared in fear, anger and defiance as he brought the heavy steel ball forward in an overhand arc. At the same time, the Elf appeared, flipping through the air to land nimbly on the spider’s head. Standing on the beast as if it were solid ground, she calmly angled her bow down between her feet and drew and loosed in one smooth motion. Her arrow pierced its skull just as Aran’s mace buried into its mass of eyes. There was no scream, this time. Aran scrabbled clear as the spider dropped dead.

The Elf stepped calmly off the corpse and offered him a hand. “Your arm?”

Aran shook his head with a grimace. “Doesn’t seem to want to work.” He tried lifting it again, but gave up with a pained groan. Hot blood was running down his arm, darkening his clothes.

She peeled back the torn tunic and shirt carefully, then withdrew her hand. “Perhaps you should not come any further. I tracked three spiders this far, and we have killed only two.”

Aran found himself shaking his head. What was wrong with him? He should be running as far and fast as he could! “I said I would help, and I will stay until we are done.” He raised his mace, the spikes glistening with sera from the spider’s eyes. “This arm still works.”

The Elf’s gaze took on a considering look. “I will accept your help, Human. I would do anything for Induin.” That name nagged at Aran for a second, as if he should know it. “We should check the cocoons, but be ready for the third spider. It could be anywhere.” Her eyes scanned the trees for a moment, then she dashed over the lip of the hollow and down the other side. Aran hurried after her as best he could.

Liaren was considerably faster than him. She reached a small cluster of four cocoons at the bottom of the hollow and began to carefully split one with her belt knife. Aran watched, holding his breath as she gently parted the white silk to reveal an pale Elf’s face. Male, his brown eyes stared at nothing through the glaze of death. Liaren muttered a prayer in Elvish and touched his forehead with her fingertips before moving on.

Aran was just drawing his own knife to help when the third spider - half again as big as the others - came charging from a dark hole in the side of the hollow. In a flash, Liaren had her knife sheathed and her bow unlimbered, nocking, drawing and loosing almost faster than Aran’s eyes could follow. The arrow flew true, but took the spider on a forward leg before it could reach its target. Liaren only had time for one more shot before the spider was on them, rearing with sharp-tipped legs and baring fangs that dripped with poison.

Aran awkwardly threw himself to the side to avoid a stabbing thrust, and cried out when he landed on his bad arm. Rolling onto his back, he sat up an pushed himself up using his mace as a prop. The spider was turning as Liaren circled it, but a rear leg suddenly lanced out at him. This time he swung his mace in time to catch the leg with a crunch, making the spider scream and hold that leg off the ground. If it made the creature any less dangerous, Aran couldn’t tell. Liaren was leaping and whirling and dodging, unable to get a clear shot. Aran needed to do something.

With a cry of equal parts fear and anger, he dropped his mace and rushed forward, wrapping himself around a coarse, hairy leg and clinging on for dear life. With only one arm, he managed to hold on for a few seconds before the spider kicked him free, sending him sailing across the hollow to land thirty feet away in a pile of bones. Pain lanced hot and sharp in his right thigh, darkening his vision for a moment. Gritting his teeth, he sat up to see the jagged end of a bone sticking out of his leg, stained red with his blood. Nothing had ever hurt so much in his life.

“Watch out!” Liaren called from somewhere nearby. Raising his head, he saw the spider coming for him. Somehow, he pushed himself erect, though it wasn’t easy. Arrows began to sprout from its hairy hide as Liaren finally let loose shot after shot, though the creature hardly seemed to feel them. An arrow also jutted from one of its left eyes, though it looked to be buried only shallowly; enough to take out the eye, but not enough to pierce the brain behind. The shaft wobbled with the spider’s gait as if it might fall out. Struggling to stay upright, Aran grimly stared down the eight-legged death that filled his vision. ‘Well, if I’m going to die, I’ll do it on my feet.’