THE SORCERESS

THE SORCERESS
-by S. Alber

Info: This is the first short story in my fantasy short story collection set in the world of Aethorias. One follows a sorceress, a dwarf, a runner, and an elf, whose destinies are closely intertwined. This story follows the sorceress on one of her missions.

PROLOGUE

In the vast, oppressive darkness of the dungeon, a profound silence reigned. Against the cold stone wall leaned a woman, her neck and wrists bound by heavy iron chains. Years of confinement had extinguished the light of hope in her eyes, now firmly shut against the relentless gloom. Once, she had believed in a pantheon of gods, in the gossamer wings of fairies, and the possibility of miracles. But those beliefs had long since withered, leaving only the void of darkness as her constant companion.

The stillness shattered abruptly as thunderous footsteps echoed through the corridors. The cacophony of creaking hinges and groaning metal filled the air as cell doors swung open; some even exploded from their frames. A tingling sensation, reminiscent of long-forgotten magic, danced at her fingertips. Her eyes snapped open, one eyebrow arching slightly, but she remained otherwise motionless, wary of false hope.

A babel of voices in an unfamiliar tongue—perhaps Eldorian, the melodic language of the elves—reverberated through the halls. At least seven distinct voices could be discerned amidst the din, interspersed with peals of laughter ranging from shrill to guttural. The footsteps drew inexorably closer until, with a resounding crash, her own cell door was wrenched from its hinges, clattering to the floor.

At the corridor's end stood four shrouded figures. The foremost held aloft a blazing torch in his right hand, while his left was raised, two fingers extended towards her. "We are liberated," he proclaimed, "The son of a whore, our erstwhile master, lies dead." At his words, the chains that had bound her for so long disintegrated. For the first time in nearly a decade, she rose to her feet, her body trembling, heart racing with a mixture of shock and nascent hope.

The cloaked figures bowed, a gesture that seemed directed at her, though she could scarcely believe it. It was an acknowledgment of shared suffering, a wordless absolution for the atrocities they had been forced to commit against one another. In that moment, the truth crystallized: they had never truly been enemies, but fellow victims of a cruel regime. It was time to leave, to go somewhere, preferably far away.

With a curt nod, the woman returned their bow, then turned and fled down the corridor, away from her cell and the mysterious liberators. She found herself swept up in a tide of her fellow prisoners—brothers and sisters in bondage—their voices rising in a symphony of laughter and tears as they tasted freedom for the first time in years.

CHAPTER 1

After completing her last assignment, the woman known as the Water Sorceress moved on to a new town deep in the forest near Verdanias, not quite where the golden fertile fields begin, but very close. She stopped in front of a tavern, where a large wooden sign hung on the door bearing the name "Bluebeard's". The woman clicked her tongue, then nodded. Her dry mouth could use something to drink.

She entered the cramped little room, immediately hit by a wave of warmth. At first, no one paid her any attention, and as she walked up to the wooden counter, the bartender, a handsome man with dark skin and a goatee, barely glanced at her. "What can I get you today?" he asked curtly. "Beer will do," she said. The bartender set a mug in front of her, and just as he was about to turn away, the woman removed her cloak, and the bartender's face tensed.

The woman had dozens upon dozens of scars on her arm, all caused by deep cuts and fierce battles of the past, but the most unsettling thing for the people around her, and she knew this well, were the thin purple lines that ran from her middle finger up to her elbow, marking her for what she was. The bartender shook his head.

The woman took her mug and marched to a free table, now under the suspicious, even angry glares of the others. "What's a rune whore like you doing here? We don't need your kind," barked a bald colossus, and his comrade, a beanpole with a scar on his face, agreed. "This is a good village, we don't need anyone like you here, leave before we smash your face in." The woman didn't look up from her drink.

Another person stood up. "Didn't you hear the gentlemen? You should disappear." The three came very close, one of them spat at the woman's feet. Now she did look up. "I haven't paid yet, I'll pay when I'm finished, I'll leave when I'm finished." The woman looked at the bartender, who had turned his back on her. He wouldn't help. It wouldn't be necessary either.
The colossus grabbed the mug from her table, smashing it loudly as he threw it on the wooden floor, the beer spreading across the floorboards. "Now you're finished, now you can leave. Get out!" The woman stood up, her movement causing the large sword attached to her belt to clank.

"That wasn't very nice," she said, watching the liquid finding its way somewhere into nowhere on the floor. "The good bartender made this swill especially for me, and you're just throwing his work on the floor."

"Shut your mouth!" shouted the colossus and attacked. He grabbed the woman by the collar of her shirt, or at least tried to, for she smoothly dodged him, causing him to crash arm-first onto her table. The woman raised her hand, Scarface crashed against the wall and hit his head so hard that blood from a large wound flowed onto the floor before he could even attack.
The third, the speaker, who was also a woman, grimaced and drew a large curved dagger. "I'll slit your throat, you witch!" "Witches don't exist, those are fairy tales, we're called sorceresses." "People like you aren't sorceresses. You're monsters!" she screeched and took a few steps forward.

The woman - the sorceress - raised two index fingers, made her drop the dagger to the floor right next to Scarface, then clenched her hand into a fist. A scream went through the tavern as the woman desperately hovered a few inches above the ground, gasping for air, her head turning redder and redder.

The colossus got up, grabbed a chair and let it crash down on the sorceress's head. She released the woman, staggered back a few steps, but quickly recovered. She strode towards the man, drew her sword, and before he could look for a weapon of his own, she cleanly cut off his head. One direct cut, so that his blood sprayed onto the wall, the bartender frantically shouting "That's enough!" and the choking woman, who was probably his wife or his sister or perhaps both, screamed in pain. Horrified gasps went through the crowd.

The sorceress put away her sword, she threw a few gold coins over to the counter. "These are for you, for the beer and the damages." Then the woman ran to the choking, crying one. "I'm letting you live because I'm not a monster. Next time you won't be so lucky." Then she raised her voice again. "Now tell me, does anyone know where I can find Keldrik the Alchemist? I have something for him." No one spoke, the second woman spat at the sorceress's feet again. "I hope you die in the Shadow Realm, you bitch!"

She left the tavern, her figure accompanied by fear-filled glances.
She sighed - why did she always have to provoke it? She could have kept her cloak on, then they probably wouldn't have discovered her so quickly. But on the other hand, she wouldn't have made an entrance, and if she had learned one thing over the years, it was that a good entrance often provided a good surprise effect. One's reputation precedes them and can act as protection. Fear is protection.

She tokk her horse and took a few steps through the narrow alleys past the small peasant houses, whose slate roofs and rotting doors portrayed poverty like a perfect picturesque image, which had long since moved into the small rural areas. Somehow she would find the alchemist, this village wasn't big.

Suddenly a child stood before her, a boy small and skinny with a broad nose and crooked teeth grinning at her. In his hand, he held a folded piece of paper. "You're the sorceress, aren't you?" he asked. He couldn't be older than seven or eight. "What do you want, boy?" He handed her the paper, carefully she unfolded it and looked at the beautiful color drawing on it. A woman with long white curls, a full face, and green eyes could be seen. Carefully, the sorceress stroked it. How much she missed her long hair, this drawing was really old.

"That's you, isn't it?" asked the boy. The sorceress nodded. "That's good, I was supposed to find you. Come with me, the alchemist is already waiting for you." Then the boy grabbed her hand and pulled her along. With each step, another question occurred to him. "How old are you actually? I've heard that if you use rune magic and are part of the Black Guild, you can get older than the elves. Are you over a thousand yet?" "No, not quite yet." "But you're certainly over a hundred." The correct number was two hundred and four, but the boy didn't need to know that. The real answer didn't seem to interest him anyway.

"You know, I've heard that only really soulless monsters are in the Guild, but you don't look like that. I suppose you can't tell just by looking. Is it true that you practice dark magic? Well, when I grow up, I wouldn't take this path. I'm an apprentice to the alchemist, I serve science." The woman rolled her eyes. "Tell me, do you fight many monsters? My father says the only good thing about the Guild is that you do the dirty work that the guards can't handle, and that the Guild is like mercenaries, just more dangerous and expensive. How expensive are you?"

"The Guild are not mercenaries. Mercenaries are rats, they betray each other for a little money. The Guild has made a pact, they cannot betray each other," said the woman without looking at the boy. "Wait, what would happen if you betrayed yourself, for example to the guards? I've heard the guards and the Guild don't get along well because the guards think you're lawless. What would happen?" The boy stopped, his eyes wide and shining, his mouth slightly open. The woman also stopped. "A Guild member who becomes a traitor to his brothers and sisters dies and ends up in the shadow realm, without ever having the chance to make amends."

"That's really incredible. Aren't you afraid that you'll be betrayed by other people?" "Boy, let me give you some advice." He nodded. "Gladly, gladly." "If you ever want to make it in this world, if you want to achieve truly great things, then stop talking." His face scrunched up, he let go of her hand and crossed his arms. "What's that supposed to mean?" "Only idiots who talk too much end up dead in the alleys."

The alchemist's house was imposing and large compared to the others, built of noble stones with round windows and climbing plants that wound around the door and the entire masonry. The boy knocked on the door, three times, then it swung open. They entered a small hallway, led into a large courtyard where flowers and plants climbed around standing bookshelves, around benches on which beautiful men and women sat and ate. All without clothing, radiantly beautiful and young. Some of the men enjoyed each other's company more than others. They kissed and laughed, fed each other grapes and danced to the soft music of a piano that seemed to be nowhere in sight. Some of them read books, while others knelt before each other and caressed. The women's laughter echoed across the courtyard, soft whispers, moans. The air seemed to vibrate, magic floated through the entire room, invisible yet palpable to the sorceress down to her last vein.

"Isn't it beautiful," said a deep voice that had suddenly appeared beside her, observing the scene with an excited and longing look. "It's my own paradise, they all come here to visit me. They want my services in a physical way, and while I'd like to boast that it's due to my appearance, I suspect they know more about my needs and my reputation, and that's what attracts them." The man sighed and turned away to look her directly in the face. "I like to keep this open house of beauty, but not that I would ever give in, it's not fitting for a scholar in my profession. After all, I have a task to fulfill. They stay here for a few weeks, some for a few months, and then they travel on. The stories spread, but everyone wants to try their chance once."

He was truly right, it certainly wasn't his appearance that brought all the visitors to his house. He was old, with long gray hair, bony fingers, and the robes hung loosely on him. His eyes were surrounded by shadows and the tattoos on his hands and neck, the curved lines that were probably meant to represent the magical ley lines, were shriveled.

"Sorceress, may I introduce the master as Keldrik, the great alchemist of the outpost of Verdanias, scholar of many writings and one of the fifty protectors of the Golden Fields," the boy squeaked, his head now slightly bowed and his gaze adoringly turned to the alchemist.

"Thank you, my boy, you can go. Return to your studies, your teachers are surely waiting for you," said the alchemist, smiling gently as he placed his hand on the boy's head, who then immediately sprang across the courtyard to a large door and disappeared behind it.

"He's a good boy, one of the best students I've ever had, even if he tends to chatter." Now a smile almost flitted across the sorceress's face. "I noticed that." The magician showed her the way along another corridor to the right. "I hope he didn't bother you with questions, he's a curious boy. Let's go to my office, we can talk better about private matters there."
"We can spare all the fuss. In front of your house stands my horse, packed with the bottles full of siren blood, as you demanded in your fire message." He waved it off.

"Oh yes, yes, I don't need that. My friend, I must report to you that I used this as a pretext to lure you here. Fire messages are not particularly secure, they can be heard by anyone who masters the simple arts of magic. So I thought it would be easier to speak to you face to face without revealing my request."
"You knew I wouldn't come unless you told me why." Clever. And dangerous. "That's how it was. Now come, my office is just up the stairs."

They sat down in the office, which stirred up dust in the air. It was crammed with bookshelves and smelled of old parchment. He sat behind the oak desk, while she stood in front of it, arms crossed.
"Well, what is it, what do you want?" she asked directly.

He laughed. "Always straight to business, I see. That's certainly something I can appreciate about you. I want you to steal something for me."

"Steal? You could hire any thief in the market for that. What exactly do you want?" she replied skeptically.
"Correct, but not every market thief is as loyal as you are, Sorceress. Besides, it's a highly secured artifact, protected by one of the other Alchemists, another guardian of the Golden Fields. I need it for an experiment."
"What kind of experiment?" she probed.

He laughed, dull and hollow. "Let's say it could change the world. It will certainly change me."
"I don't work when I don't feel secure enough. Knowledge provides security. Give me more information," she demanded.
The Alchemist cleared his throat, his gaze darkened, his arms crossed. "And here I thought this would be a bit easier with Guild members."

"The Guild doesn't take every job, especially not from Alchemists who work with the state. You should be glad I even agreed to bring you the Siren blood,"

He uncrossed his hands and raised them placatingly. "I see, alright, alright."
Something rattled from one of the bookshelves, then an open, old book landed on the desk. The pages showed a human with arms and legs widely stretched, with the Ley lines swaying around him, golden and powerful.

"To this day, no one knows where the Ley lines came from, but they are the foundation of all our power - that of the Alchemists, the Rune Mages, the Elemental Mages, of everyone. And about them, my grandfather found this old book, deeply hidden in a cave."

The woman leaned forward. It was written in Tiberian, an ancient human script. Some words caught her eye particularly: "Nebu regnum faeric potes telluric". Translated into today's human language, it would mean "the thinning of the Ley lines" and that this thinning weakens the boundaries between the parallel Fay world and this one, so that a strong enough wizard could easily wander between both worlds.

"Can you read it?" the Alchemist asked, fascinated.
The woman nodded. "Where I originally come from, children were still taught Tiberian. Why would you want to go to the Fay world? It's a myth."

He shook his head vigorously. "It's not a myth at all. For years, I've been working with another scholar, and he has seen it in his dreams. He helped my grandfather and my mother decipher this book. Just think of the possibilities! The Fay world is said to be full of wonders and blessings, full of magic. We could cure diseases, build empires, expand our power!"
She looked up. "You mean the power of humans."

"Certainly, I mean that, but we could also build a world for the Elves and the Dwarves."
Carefully, the woman turned to the next page and noticed the tear - something was missing. "Such a book should have instructions for such an experiment. That's not present here."

"That's why I need the artifact from my colleague. Her name is Rashar, but good Rashar refuses. She says it's stupid and naive to listen to someone else's prophecy."

"She's right about that. Anyone can have prophecies, they're just one possibility of the future and not reality. Only those who follow the prophecies consider them possible. And the Fay world is a children's fairy tale about gods and mythical creatures and wonders."

The Alchemist stood up angrily. "That's not true! You must help me!"

"I see no purpose in it."

"Either we explore the Ley lines ourselves, or we'll eventually be swallowed by the Fay world. Then we'll all die!"
"Everyone dies sometime, even the sorceresses, Alchemist. I will not help you."

The Alchemist stood up from the table. "I beg you, Rashar can't understand it yet, and I see, you can't see it yet either. But this is our future! The gods have abandoned us, but they have also left us the Ley lines. This is their legacy, we would be fools not to attempt it. I will also pay well."

"I refuse to participate in a battle of prophecy. In these times, everyone really has an idea about the future, and they fight and kill each other because of it. It's a child's game that I don't want to engage in."

She turned around, ready to leave, but then the Alchemist's voice thundered louder: "And if I told you that in the Fay world lies the key to your past? You could make everything right again, all the children who died, your parents, your friends. You could undo everything!"

Anger flared up. She twitched her hand, and the Alchemist slammed against the wall. "Don't you dare!" she hissed.
The Alchemist scrambled to his feet, his face contorted with pain and anger. His robe was dusty and wrinkled, a small bloodstain adorned his sleeve. He rubbed his neck and glared at the woman in front of him.
"That was a very bad mistake, I hope you know that. You don't just attack a Guardian of the Golden Fields when he offers you a job," he hissed through gritted teeth.

She stood unimpressed, her eyes gleaming dangerously. Her hand twitched slightly, as if considering striking again. "Be glad I didn't kill you, Alchemist," she said icily. "Enough unnecessary blood has been shed today. I merely wanted to teach you a lesson."

"Oh, how gracious of you." He straightened up to his full height. "But don't think that your so-called mercy will save you."
"I don't need your job. You need me more than I need you," she replied coolly. "And I won't be threatened or manipulated by your kind."

A smug smile spread across the Alchemist's face. "Oh, I wouldn't bet on that. You greatly overestimate your position, my dear." He took a deep breath and then bellowed: "Guards!"

As if out of nowhere, the door burst open, and dozens of the King of Verdandis' guards stormed into the room. Their armor clanged, swords flashed in the candlelight. The Alchemist pointed accusingly at the woman. "This monster attacked me! You must arrest her!"

The woman whirled around, desperately searching for an escape. Her eyes darted from the door to the windows, but everywhere stood armed men in uniforms. They were becoming more and more numerous. "You're making a grave mistake," she warned. "You don't know who you're dealing with."

Before she could even react, one of the guards lunged at her. With brutal force, she was pushed to the ground. They put shackles on her that carefully prevented the strongest magic and which she painfully recognized. Then they pulled her up again, her arms painfully twisted.

"You will regret this," she growled, struggling to break free from their grip. "Every single one of you will curse the day you tangled with me."

The Alchemist held the guards back before they could take her away. "Wait one second," he commanded. He came close to her, his breath brushing her face. He smelled of old books and strange herbs. "I'll find someone else to do the job. People like you are as common as flies, and just as insignificant."

"You don't understand what you're doing," the woman hissed. "The forces you're meddling with will devour you. The Ley lines are not meant to be manipulated by megalomaniacs like you."

The Alchemist just laughed.

"Oh, I understand more than you think. It's you who understands nothing. The future belongs to those brave enough to seize it. And I thought you would support me, after all, all this magic is familiar to them."

He stepped back and waved dismissively. "Take her away. Put her in the deepest dungeons and inform the king that this intruder has already killed in the village and is ready to be hanged. Guild members don't get a trial."