Site hosted by Build your free website today!

Chapter Sixteen

"… Keori’s dream had been fulfilled—

he now had Elanora in her possession.

However, in his hastily planned actions,

He had never anticipated how much death might change her;

And how she might gain so much from it that

Keori might become not someone to further her influence—

But someone to battle with …"

—The Pasegean Scrolls

The world around her seemed to be full of mist and mystery—clouded in fog and clouding the truth. Elanora looked around herself, and saw nothing but clouds for miles everywhere.

Her skin tingled with unknown power, but her feet longed to rest. She pointed to a cloud in front of her, and as if her magic could suddenly read her thoughts, it was immediately transformed into a large, padded chair. Elanora walked towards it and sat down on it gingerly, testing it, before sinking back into the soft layers of velvety fabric. "I wish I had dreams like this every night," she murmured, and pinched herself in jest.

And then she realised that this wasn’t a dream.

She jerked upright in the chair she had conjured, and pointed to the clouds beneath her. A gazing pool appeared there, and Elanora rushed over to it and looked through it.

She nearly fainted at the sight.

Beyond the clouds, below where she was standing at that very moment, she could see Lake Eomrra, calm, but with one man lying dead in the sand, Kernai, she thought; an older woman curled into an outcropping of rocks, Taliia, she thought sadly, a tear running down her cheek; and a very old man wading out of the water, grasping only a blue mage’s robe in his hands.

Elanora looked down at herself and saw that she was clothed in nothing but her corset. She gasped and pointed at her near-naked body, which was quickly covered in a beautiful white linen ball gown. I’ve always wanted a dress like this, she thought, how strange that I would get it at a time like this. Must be my subconscious showing me how to dress now.

She could no longer see Iopry near the lake, and she guessed that he had gone back to Uision and to the inn. As she looked around herself, she saw a mountain peak just below her. "Could I be above Tyrioa?" she murmured to herself. She was wondering exactly how she might’ve gotten there, and what exactly had happened down below, and if Sidhe had been destroyed when she heard a voice behind her and a hand on her shoulder.

"Ah, my sweet Elanora … finally I can touch that soft, creamy skin of yours …"

As he traced the back of her neck with his fingers, Elanora realised exactly who was speaking and shuddered in disgust. She reached back and pushed his hands away from her then stood to face him. "What are you doing here?" she questioned icily.

He raised his eyebrows at her. "What, you haven’t realised yet? My, my, Elanora … you’re not as intelligent as I thought. Maybe you need some teaching …" He reached for her again, but Elanora pointed at him and he found himself cradling his burnt hands as she smothered a laugh.

"Maybe you need to tell me what’s going on before I burn the rest of you as well, Keori." She gave him such a look that made chills course his spine, and for a moment Keori was speechless. Then, he managed to regain his composure and he grinned at her.

"You’re immortal, sweetheart—you drank the same potion I drank forty-five years ago, and were killed by the exact same spell. It’s known as a loophole in the magical world. But, of course, it’s not total immortality—no one has that but the creators. We simply can’t be killed by anyone else, unless we make ourselves vulnerable to them … or we truly wish to die. Simple, isn’t it?"

Elanora was shocked. Immortal? she thought, her mind racing with the possibilities. Maybe that’s why I’m stuck here, on top of this wretched mountain—after all, Keori dwells atop Mt. Furyew, which is the tallest point in all the world. Since Tyrioa is the second-tallest mountain, instead of forcing me to reside with Keori it sent me to the next best place—of course, it’s the best option in my opinion.

Keori was still talking but she had taken no notice of him since she had been so caught up her own thoughts. "… and, so, you can come and live with me on Mt. Furyew, and we’ll both be happy. That good enough an explanation for you?"

Elanora choked. "Live—live with you?" She suddenly burst out laughing, and Keori had no idea why. "Why in the world would I want to do that?!"

He was puzzled. "Because, Elanora, that’s why I brought you here. So that you could become my Goddess."

This caused her to laugh even harder. "Your-Your—" she couldn’t get the words out. "Your—what did you say it was, again?" Her eyes were sparkling mischievously.

Keori sighed. "My Goddess." This set her off on another lot of giggles. Keori began to wonder if maybe he’d been wrong about her—this didn’t seem like the romantic welcome he’d expected from her.

A thought suddenly occurred to Elanora. "Keori," she began, a smile still playing at the sides of her mouth, "what level of magic would I have to be to simply point at an object and think of what I wanted for it to be done."

"Probably about 15th level. I’m not really sure, but 15th level is the highest that had ever been achieved naturally … without the consumption of another sorcerer’s powers, I mean."

Elanora smiled sweetly at Keori, which made him fell like he was going to melt into a puddle right in front of her. "So, you’re saying, that if someone had consumed another’s powers—maybe more than one person’s magical powers—they might be capable of even more than is known to be possible?"

Even though he was confused, Keori nodded. "I guess so."

"Perfect. So, if someone had consumed the powers of a 9th level, a 7th level, a 6th level, and also the life-force of the 7th level, not to mention their own minuscule 3rd level powers, how powerful would they be?"

Rather taken aback, Keori attempted to calculate the numbers Elanora had thrown at him. "Uh … well, nine and seven, plus six and another seven and then three would be …" he stood in deep thought for a moment, then smiled. "They would have the same amount of power as a person who had achieved the 32nd level of magic, which would be an impossible feat without the consumption of another’s magic or an immortality potion—but, since the studies of magic are impossible whilst immortal … to achieve the 32nd level is also impossible naturally."

Innocently, she asked: "And what level are you, Keori?"

He raised his head high, and said proudly, "14th level mage, through the consumption of both the life-force and power of a 5th level Nulian faery-mage." Then he nodded towards her. "How about you?" he challenged.

"32nd level mage, due to the consumption of three other mages power and the life-force of one, plus my own weak 3rd level powers." Elanora looked slightly remorseful at these words, as if she regretted the actions that had been taken. She looked at the ground and Keori thought he saw tears glistening in her eyes. After a moment, she jerked her head up and glared at Keori angrily. "Leave. Now."

He stared at her, mystified. "What? But I thought …" his words trailed off as he saw the fury in her eyes.

She sneered at him. "I will never become like you, Keori. I loathe all of your kind—those who use dark magic to help them overcome what pathetic excuses for people they—and you—really are. Leave before I destroy you, because even if I wasn’t half as powerful as you are, my magic will always conquer yours. I shall use mine to help the people who live in Arsinuae, not to hinder them and destroy their lives in the way you have done. I hope that Sidhe Pasege and her destruction were a lesson to you—and that you will not attempt this again. For if you do, you shall fail … and I shall triumph. LEAVE MY PRESENCE NOW!"

And, so, Keori teleported himself back to his place atop Mt. Furyew, and was left wondering if he would ever see the face of Elanora Jovan, goddess of good, and the love of his, well, after-life, again.


Riann Sheperd awoke on the day of Kessah Darvosten’s funeral, his head feeling heavy but his heart feather-light. For some unknown reason, the night before he had not been visited by the mysterious spectre who was always so horrible to him and forced him to bow down and pay homage to her. She always asked him if he had told anyone about what he had seen that night, only a week ago now … and he always gave her the same answer, and it was always the truth, since he was so fearful for his life, however empty it might be … he knew he was a coward, but now he seemed to have found that silver lining in the cloud that was Kessah Darvosten’s murder.

He would be able to give her justice. He would tell them all; the whole town … they would all ask him who he had seen go into the Fernan’s barn that frosty morning—and he would tell them.

And he would do it today.


Copyright 2000 M. Lees

Previous Chapter

Next Chapter