Where the Light Fades III

Story Intro
11/03/11 57 words
Malyn; raised by her mother's people, north-western Cerilian barbarian; in search of her father's people, the mysterious Sidhelien; traveled the lands of Cerilia, far from her home; found herself among a mixed group of travelers, each in search of something; and they were caught between shadow and light and approaching the apex of crises in all Cerilia.

Fear
3972 words

Tingling and numbness throughout her extremities slowed her movements as she stumbled from the edge of a copse of trees into the meadow. Shakiness quivered her guts. A waft of cold sweaty musk assaulted her nose as she inhaled in ragged short breaths. It was her own smell that soured in her nostrils and left an acrid itch in the back of her throat. Bright flashes exploded just within the edge of her vision, red and violet lightning strikes, leaving a shadow of glare whenever she turned to look, nearly blinded her to where her feet fell along the faint game trail. Vision narrowed, distorted, blurred; bitter bile burned her throat and she choked, nearly retched. Her tongue thickened behind clamped teeth. And, as hard as she tried to hear what followed her, the only sound discernable was her own panting, thrashing, choking, and wimpering as she ran--from what?

She really didn't know. There was no reason behind her flight. She just knew it was a matter of her life or death if she didn't successfully escape. A brief bit of reason filtered into the wild panic of her thoughts, 'Of what afraid am I?'

Malyn stopped in the meadow. She turned to face the East. Along the horizon the shine of a moon not yet risen brightened a puff of cloud above the low hills. She stood frozen and watched the steady moonrise. Her initial panic turned into solid terror and her feet rooted into the compacted dirt and rock of the world. The domed edge of reflected light inched into view. Pain forced a terrified scream from her as the itching burn of tearing skin traveled along her spine. She spread out her arms and threw her head up and back in the vain attempt to alleviate the sensation of being ripped open from the inside out. Bones and skin stretched and tore in her arms, hands, legs and feet. All vestiges of human reason fled as pain unimagined writhed her in the dirt; such excrutiating pain that stripped intellect and left primal instinct to command dominance.

The creature in the meadow bathed in the light of the moon was no longer the person. She crouched on all fours and snarled and screamed in feline agony. She bled from many tears in the skin. The blood caked and scabbed under a course coat of tawny-gray fur. Her movements were impeded by the binding of wool and leather clothing now stretched over limbs, joints and torso no longer human. She twisted, rolled, crawled and scraped against the ground, brush, and stumps until the human clothing was tattered, ripped and partially discarded, scattered in a small area of uprooted grass, sedges, broken brush and turned over stones that were moments before half buried in the ground. Deep claw marks scored the ground and blood blackened branches and stones. Pieces of shirt, breeches, boots scattered the churned up earth; a shredded sleeve here, a section of a pant leg there.

The moon cleared the horizon and shown completely upon the creature. She snarled her agony and rage, then turned away from the East and toward the edge of the clearing; running on all fours with remnants of woolen cloth fluttering in the wind of her flight. She fled toward the shelter of the trees not far from where she had originally entered into the meadow.

Her senses were acute, many scents assaulted her from the sweetness of broken dry grasses to the metalic tang of blood on stone and somewhere to her left was the musk of men. She paused a moment in her flight and listened. Their grunting and unheeded crashing through the woods drew nearer to where she crouched. With a low snarl, she turned away from the man-noise and ran toward a rocky outcrop she could see quite plainly in the growing twilight of night. The bathing light of the full moon gave everything she saw a crisp definate form. Colors popped out and defined each bush, stone, and blade of grass. The oversized feline stretched out and streaked toward stone boulders jutting over the faint game trail. She crouched to leap and caught man scent; close, much too close; in front of her. She skidded and snarled, turned to flee into the brush but there was man scent there too. She crouched and hissed her rage, a sure warning to those who were closing in around her. Shouts were distinctive now; one behind, one to the left, one in front and one to her right. She crouched and faced the man who appeared at the edge of the brush, with a snarl and hiss she sat up and swiped three lightning quick arcing strikes toward this man in the shining skin. He jumped back and yelped. She struck twice on the hard slick skin, smelled the musk of his fear but there was no scent of blood. A sharp pain needled her left hind leg, she spun and clawed the shaft with the sharp cutting claw on the end. The man grunted but easily jumped out of her reach. Another sharp pain she spun again, slapped shaft, hissed as her attacker stayed out of reach. Then again and again and again. With each spin she edged toward the stone outcroping, she soon crouched with her haunches against and partially wedged between two boulders with her four antagonists jabbing at her with the long clawed sticks. She layed low, with ears flat and back, snarling as two of the man-creatures dropped their long sticks and swung slender woven meshed vines over her. She swiped with her claws but the vines tightened and hampered her attack. She tried to back away from the snagging fibers but was soon yanked off her feet and onto her back. The man-creatures shouted with excitement and pulled and tightened the binding fibers until she couldn't move. She was lifted and carried trussed tightly in this fibrous web unable to do anything except snarl and growl her discontent. She was taken to a clearing and thrown into a hollow tree and locked inside. All she could do was pant and shiver. All through the night she strained against the vines to no use. Eventually, exhaustion took her and she slept.

Malyn groaned. Every muscle in her body ached, her hands and feet felt miles thick and numb from lack of blood circulation. Her mouth was dry and tasted of blood, her lips and gums were torn and something kept her from moving freely. She was bound hand and foot and practically naked. She cracked her eyes open and peered through lidded slits in case someone watched her. She was inside a wagon. Had they been attacked? Had there been a fight? The last thing she remembered was carrying a bucket to get water from a stream near camp. She remembered impending dread and danger and running. It had been dusk. What happened?

Birds chirped their predawn calls and there was movement on the other side of the wagon walls. Someone paced, a guard maybe? Making small movements, wiggling fingers and toes brought excrutiating waves of needle tingling pain. She rocked herself to move toward a broken space in the wagon boards, to get a look at her captors. Where were the others? Had they been taken too; and if so why weren't they in the wagon with her?

Finally she was in position, closing one eye she peered through a crack in the boards. She saw dark leather, but whoever wore it was too close to make out. She strained to get a better position and managed to lose balance and rolled knocking her head on the floor. The person outside stopped pacing and stepped away from the wagon. In a last ditch effort Malyn strained against the netting that bound her limbs. Sure was a strange way to truss someone up, although she had to admit it was effective. After several painful attempts she decided it was useless, she was too securely bound up. Within a couple minutes, she heard several sets of booted footsteps approaching the wagon. She settled into the reality that very soon she would have answers to some of her questions. She forced herself to relax and gazed steadily where the wagon door would open.

Several men and a woman whispered outside, Malyn tensed, the muffled voices sounded familiar. It didn't make sense. The wagon door opened and holding a spear ready to thrust into Malyn's heart was Britta. A flood of confusion dizzied Malyn.

"Are you sensible with the light of the sun shining on the world, Malyn?"

The query was quiet and shaky, but the spear never wavered. A flood of warmth rose from breast to head as rage swelled within Malyn. In as calm and icy a voice as she could muster Malyn said, "friend, be you? Believed, I so; yet me, best you kill; now, defenseless and naked, while I am. Best that or loose my bonds and your throat, I tear out."

"We bound you thus for your own safe keeping, Malyn. Because, we are in fact your friends, is why you were not killed last night."

"Say you what? Stripped and trussed up, I am and now threaten you to pierce me through--friend?"

Britta shook her head and pulled the spear back. "Last eve you were not yourself. A beast, a great cat manifested over you. It happened as the moon rose full."

"Let me speak to her, Britta. She doesn't understand what occurred last night."

Britta stepped back and Malyn looked defiantly at Vollig. The young druid looked haggard and strained, something she'd never before seen him direct toward her.

"What do you remember from last night, Malyn?"

"To the stream to fetch water, went I. Danger near, there was and placing distance between fear and me, I needed."

"Between you and what? What danger was there that made you afraid and race through the wood blindly?"

"Smell fear, I could. Feel, danger real was."

"Do you remember the rising of the moon last night?"

"Moon, no remember. Last night, no remember. In wagon, trussed in net, no remember. World up from down turned and yesterday friends not today friends."

Vollig breathed a great sigh and rubbed his forehead as if to wipe away his weariness. Then he looked a long time into Malyn's eyes before speaking again.

"Before we can trust to unfetter you, I must do my best to make you understand what happened last night." He paused, Malyn wondered if he really intended to loose her from her bounds.

"When we were separated in the necromancer's lair, were you bitten by an animal?"

"No bite."

"Did Ing's Negotiator or Ing force you to drink any potions?"

"No, potions give. Questions asking, what?"

"Something has happened to you from the time of the previous moon cycle until the rising of last night's full moon. Sometimes if you are bitten by an infected animal or if you drink from a potion tainted with their blood, it will turn you."

"When captured by Ing Negotiator, to bleed me, he try for Ing spells and making of potions; but the gift from Capitan Emmerlain drinking and loose, I break and Ing Negotiator I kill. me after, you find . Ing's lair, we leave . That is all. I change not, fight we, many battles since."

"Yes, it is true there was no visible alteration from human to animal, that day. However, I remember that when we first saw you after your capture, you appeared dazed and confused and you held in your grip the Negotiator's head which you had ripped from between his shoulder's. And at that first rejoining, you did not immediately recognize any of us. Furthermore, you couldn't remember escaping your bonds and killing." Vollig stared at Malyn. "Captain Emmerlain's gift, what did it taste like? What kind of effect did it have over you?"

"I anger strength feel in the drinking. Of bitter herb and oils and metalic, liking to iron, I taste."

"Captain Emmerlain tricked you, I think. Did the potion have the taste of blood to it?"

"Remember taste, I thinking, liking to raw liver on fresh kill."

"Malyn do you know what the moon's curse is? Do your people have legends of men who turn into beasts at the rising of the full moon?"

"The shadow spawn of the marshes, some walk as men but under the bright moon, into demon-animals, change."

"Last night, just after moonrise, Britta, Trellin, Cayen and myself trapped and netted a giant lynx and placed her in this wagon. Malyn, do you understand?"

Malyn glared at the young druid for many long moments. She quietly tested the nets binding her. She searched her memory of yestereve, but try as she might could not remember anything after dropping the empty water bucket and running panicked through the woods. She looked into Volligs eyes, she saw worry and sincerity, the same look he gave to those wounded animals under his care he wasn't sure would pull through a crisis moment. Malyn felt burning rage that he would so dare to look at her that way.

"Malyn, You must understand or we cannot loosen your fetters. Those nets binding you right now are the same nets we used to capture a demon-lynx. Do you understand what I am saying?"

"Da, you are saying in the night is demon-lynx, in the day is me." Malyn realized her own admission condemned her to damnation. She let her head loll back and stopped testing her restraints. She would die now.

"Yes, that is right."

"Iron, demon-animals, can't kill. Only magic kills."

"That is correct Malyn. The demon-lynx can't be killed unless it be by magics."

"Do you, these magics, know ? You kill before demon-lynx kills?"

"I don't have the skill, but I know of those who do."

"So now, to those who have the skill, you take me?"

"Well, not necessarily."

Malyn had closed her eyes, unwilling to look at her friend, but when he hesitated she raised her head and searched for the emothion behind those pale blue eyes sunken in a pale face. She saw sincerity still and she saw also determined hope.

"We, Trellin, Britta, Cayen and I talked it over and we think that we can take precautions. If you are willing to submit to being bound and confined during the nights of the bright moon, we won't mind having you stay as our companion."

"To this Trellin agreed?"

Hearing his name, the paladin stepped up beside Vollig. "I have offered up my oath. I may loath the demon, the lycanthropy, but I will protect my friend I call Malyn. I will protect you even from yourself. By the power in Haelyn, I swear this."

An iciness settled in the pit of Malyn's stomach. She closed her eyes as the warning of the Elf Capt. of the Meirriane resounded in her memory. 'Thank-you for your heartfelt gift Malyn-Half-Elf, now I give to you this potion. Use it only if death is unavoidable. This potion is powerful, it will save your life, but it will forever change your life too.'

She closed her eyes and sagged into the bindings of the net once again. Vollig was correct, she had been tricked, betrayed into damnation.

She heard the footsteps of her friends walking away from the wagon. The thin strong fibers of the net cut into her wrists and ankles. She lay helpless, damned, hopeless. Then a portion of the netting loosened and she opened her eyes to stare at Britta who was at her feet working loose the knots. She looked up and smiled a wary smile. "The sun has risen, you need food, you need fresh clothing."

"What to my clothing happened?"

"The lynx, she didn't like them on her. Tonight, before the rising of the moon, you will disrobe and submit to binding and enclosure. Then tomorrow your clothing will still be in one piece."

The morning meal was eaten quickly and in silence. Malyn felt the eyes of the others studying her as they broke camp. Oh, no one looked at her directly with accusation, but whenever one of her friends was a step beyond the periphery of her vision, she knew there was a side glance, quick and fertive; she felt Trellin's starr at her back as he bridled his mount, prickling goose flesh on the back of her neck; Britta walked by her quickly and made quick little eye glances without moving her head as she passed by; Cayen maintained his distance, managed to look elsewhere whenever Malyn looked at him. Only Vollig looked at her square on and always with a friend's smile, no hint of pity or distrust; but Malyn did see him with the squint of worry once, which he quickly covered with a broad smile and a short laugh. All this sudden distrust, as bad as it could be, wasn't anything near as intolerable as her own sudden awkwardness and disorientation about herself. She was a tremendous danger to everyone close to her. The tension was electric, around her, the horses danced skittishly and snorted their nervousness through their flared nostrils when she passed them. Her own mount, the sturdy even tempered horse she'd ridden these many days since returning from the realm of shadow would not tolerate her hand placed upon him. He jerked back his head and leaned back upon his haunches ready to rear and flay his front hooves at her head; only the quick actions of Vollig and Cayen prevented his front hooves from leaving the ground. Malyn let loose the reigns of the sudden white-eyed and lather-necked beast as the two men led him behind the wagon.

Vollig returned speedily to Malyn's side as soon as Cayen had the panicked animal soothed enough to tether to the back of the wagon. "The wagon, beside me, seems the best place for you to ride this day."

"Da, the horses, lets hope, pulling wagon from demon-animal scent spook won't and us both kill."

Vollig laughed with genuine ease and slapped Malyn's shoulder. "Well, you still have your sense of abrupt irony."

"Double-edged is truth and everyone touched wounds."

"Yes, Malyn. You said a mouthful at that."

Vollig stepped up to the driver's seat while Malyn stood back from the wagon and animals. She stepped up after the druid signaled he had the wheel brake pulled back as hard as he could get it and a firm grip on the reigns to control the nervous beasts. The wagon rolled backwards and the horses closest to the driver snorted and bobbed their heads fighting the reigns as Malyn settled into the seat quickly, if not smoothly. She had to grab hold of the boards as Vollig kicked the tension off the brake, snapped the reigns and blew a loud shrill whistle between his front teeth. The four horse team jerked the wagon forward and Malyn was thankful of the front wagon boards where her shoulders slammed and her backward momentum off the seat stopped.

Trellin rode ahead of the group as normal while Cayen rode behind the wagon with Britta; Malyn's usual traveling position. The group still had a long distance to travel. They followed the rumor of another of Cayen's people who had the knowledge of an artifact they needed to find. The great tree had told them he had at least a month's head start. They followed a cold trail, one with no distinctive promise, only a hint of hope.

By mid-morning, the day promised to be a hot one by Malyn's northern standards. She fell into the inattentiveness of the passenger with nothing to do as the warmth of the sun enhanced her need for sleep; soon her head lolled forward and she rested her back against the face of the wagon. The chaotic bouncing motion of the wagon, wheels sliding into ruts and bouncing in and out of dried mud-holes kept her from entering a deep sleep; instead, images of the past few weeks, the undead at the keep, the cave-in and their emergence into the realm of Azrai'sShadow. The world of shadow claimed them and they were captured, taken prisoner by Captain Clare Emmerlain. She remembered how naive she'd been, how angry she became when threatened with a life of slavery; how awe struck to see a sidhelien for the first time in her life. How much she'd been changed by that sidhelien; betrayed into damnation, never able now to return to her mother's people, once her people, but no longer. Captain Emmerlain had given her the Elvish equivalent of what she knew to be Malyn's father's name, but admitted she'd never met anyone in her travels named Dannis Sorbein.

The wagon jerked dangerously to the side, Malyn grabbed the seat and managed not to be thrown from her perch.

"Have a nice nap, my friend?"

Malyn grunted, her only answer to Vollig's inquirey to her condition. She was awake now, sleep would not return. The sun was passed the high mark by a couple hours and Vollig reigned in the horses and steered them onto a widened area beside the road. "We rest here for the night. Trellin says we won't make any better camp before dark."

Malyn felt irritation. It had always been her duty to scout ahead and find the camps, now the pompous richboy dared to dictate where they stopped and with nearly four hours before sunset. She sighed. Vollig watched her closely, his face relaxed and passive. She'd seen that look before; he watched her to see what she would do. Resigned, Malyn nodded affirmation that this was to be where they camped for the night. Vollig smiled. He followed her off the wagon and proceeded to unhitch and groom the horses for the night. Malyn joined Britta in preparing a cook fire but, when Malyn took hold the water bucket to fetch water, Britta gently took it from her. "You will stay within the confines of camp. We don't want to have to chase you down like last eve."

Malyn resisted handing the wooden bucket over. "The sunset is a couple hours, the stream but a short walk."

Britta shook her head. "No Malyn, its not the sunset, it is the moonrise you must worry about. I will get water, we will eat, then you will retire to the wagon, disrobe and let me bind you for the night."

Malyn let go of the bucket, panic gripped her gut but she knew Britta was right. The moon rose just after sunset again that evening but not as soon as last eve. A new emotion swept over her as she watched Britta disappear in the thicket and trees. Her throat constricted and her gut twisted on itself as helpless uselessness swept over her. She clenched her fists and inhaled deeply to exhale in a scream of rage, but stopped herself. It was useless. She was damned and shadow-spawn and she should never have left the realm of shadow. But she had and now she depended on her companions to protect themselves from her, because she could not. She was extremely lucky to be alive, or was she?

With head bowed in resignation, Malyn chipped in to help set up the cook fire, even though she probably wouldn't eat, and set several alarm snares aound the perimeter of the camp. She wouldn't be able to stand guard, so this way she helped in protecting the group from outside threats. Several times she caught Trellin watching her and checking each place she had left a snare after she had walked away from it. Malyn thought about confronting the paladin but never followed through. What would be the point?

Concerned Friends
1,426 words

A bright fire crackled inside the stone ring. Britta Gheist Hunter stared into the flickering flames. The nights were growing colder and she drew her cloak tighter around her shoulders to stave off a shiver, not so much from the autumn chill as from the low feline growls eminating from the wagon. She looked up and watched as the wagon rocked from some weight rolling from side to side. They as a group had still travelled these last two days, Malyn riding beside Vollig after he cast a calming spell over the horses. In fact, they had all adapted slightly different safety habits in regards to Malyn's malady. She had gathered the ingredients which when seeped into a tea calmed her own nerves and helped dull the headaches that had increased in strength since she and Malyn had transfered life energy on the ancient tree, Sporsmalfaru.

Trellin tipped his head toward the wagon. "Don't worry, she can't permanently harm herself. She is imminently better off in that wagon and so are we."

"I know. It's just that she didn't make that much noise that first night or the following two nights. She didn't seem to be in as much frenzy either." Britta returned her gaze back to the dancing flames. "I never thought it possible but she is more enraged tonight than I have ever felt from her before. It is really very distracting."

Vollig sighed and looked up at the large round moon high overhead. "The moon is completely full tonight. Then tomorrow it starts to wane. Her agitation will decrease with each night hereafter."

"That's another thing, I thought there were only three days of the full moon; three days of the manifested lycanthropy."

Cayen shook his head in opposition to Britta's assumption to the lycanthropic mystique. "Much of what you speak is folklore. Did anyone besides me notice how restive Malyn was getting this last week? She was of a quicker temper than usual. I attributed her foul mood to our abrupt return to the world of light; her distrust of everyone, even her friends, from some barbarian superstition about those who get trapped into the shadow realm. I truly believe she never believed she would ever escape and when she did it made her almost paranoid."

"Yes, I noticed that she was more edgy than normal. Looking back, as the moon's horns shortened, she grew more out of control of her temper, less patient of everything and everyone around her." Vollig snickered with not quite embarrassment but akin to it. "I simply thought she was coming close to her womanly cycles."

Britta laughed. "Would that were the reason for our friend's recent growing agitation. But, it still doesn't explain her transformations before the moon was completely at the peak of it's cycle."

Trellin spoke up for the first time. "I'm not well versed in such things, but it could be that direct sunlight somehow reduces the effect. What I mean is, the moon rises a little later every day. When Malyn first changed, the sun had set and the moon rose during the gloaming; that bit of time after sunset and the world is still light. Tonight it was dark when the moon rose and Malyn made her transition at that time. Also, we must remember this is the first time she has made the transition. She obviously didn't expect it to happen and we never suspected, so she was taken by surprise by it as it were. Maybe, as she grows more accustomed to fighting the cycle she will gain more control until the point where she doesn't change form until, as Britta said, the three nights of the full moon. Maybe, she needs to develop the strength of her will over her condition to reduce its power over her."

Vollig listened attentively to what Trellin was saying. "What you say has a sense of reason behind it, but what do any of us really know about lycanthropy?"

Cayen picked up a long stick and stirred the fire. "Is everyone forgetting something, possibly of some importance?"

Those sitting around the fire turned their intent questioning looks toward the Khinasi Conjurer. "What do we really know about her? Malyn is a Half-Elf. True, she comes from a barbarian human heritage, but she has the Sidhelien blood in her and by extrapolation she should also have some of the innate elven magical capacity. I think Captain Emmerlain gave Malyn that particular potion, not out of some warped sense of malice, but because she could sense some of Malyn's magical potential."

Cayen pulled the stick from the fire and jabbed the burning tip into the dirt extinguishing the flaming end. "Also, I watched Emmerlain and Malyn together. The Captain showed great fondness for our barbarian sister before we departed her ship. Malyn felt such close kinship that she was beside herself to find a gift to give before we departed. Have you noticed that her old dagger, the one she used for everything is no longer in her possession? She is using the newer steel dagger we collected from the Keep."

"Yes, you are right. I haven't seen that old worn thing since we left the ship. I never gave it a second thought, but that dagger had deep sentimental value, Malyn prefered it over the newer ones." Vollig and Trellin nodded in agreement to what Britta spoke.

Cayen placed the stick on the ground outside the fire ring. "Emmerlain never opened Malyn's gift to her, but still thanked her for it. How did she say it. 'thank-you for your heartfelt gift...?' Then she gave Malyn the potion. There was concern, not malice from Emmerlain in the exchange. Somehow, she knew that Malyn would need that potion to save her life. And likewise, she knew that Malyn would be strong enough to partially control the potion effects. It will just take her some time and a lot of help, understanding and precaution from her friends."

Trellin stood and stretched. "Well its only a few hours before dawn. I'm going to check that warding spell I placed around the wagon and then get some sleep."

One by one the travelers took their leave of the fire. Vollig checked the horses and made sure the silence spell was still affective. No sense in letting Malyn's feline growls and snarls agitate them all night. Trellin too strengthened his barrier spell he'd placed over the wagon. Cayen checked and strengthened the alarm spells he'd placed around the camp careful not to trip any of the snare alarms Malyn insisted on placing before she retired to the wagon.

Britta was the last to stand. She banked the now glowing coals and headed toward her bedroll. She felt the familiar pressure on both sides of her head and high in her forehead, not quite a head ache but still uncomfortable. She hadn't told the other's but ever since Malyn sacrificed herself on the tree to bring her back from death, she seemed connected to the woman's moods. The tree was as surprised as her friends that Malyn hadn't died from the exchange. Now her friends understood why Malyn hadn't died; the were-disease, as Cayen had called it, kept her alive on the tree; but now Malyn was a soulless being. Britta was alive because she received Malyn's life source; she was grateful Malyn still lived; and, she would do everything in her power to make sure Malyn would get through this new situation for both their sakes.

The ranger felt colder than normal so she wrapped her cloak tighter about herself and laid near the fire-pit. Sleep evaded Britta however, and she resigned herself that sleep wouldn't come until the cat in the wagon calmed and succumbed to exhaustion. Her thoughts retraced the events of the last few days. The coals of the fire-pit began to warm her enough so she closed her eyes and awaited sleep. It had been the sudden, uncharacteristic and unfounded panic broadcasted from Malyn that had initially alerted Britta to her companion's flight from the stream and through the woods. Britta first alerted Vollig and they both recruited Cayen and Trellin into the hunt and capture of the unnatural, oversized lynx by the rock outcrop in the woods. No one questioned how the ranger had known of the barbarian's distress and circumstance, because each of them had sensed something wrong in an unnatural way with regards to Malyn.

The sky to the East lightened and was orange streaked when Malyn and Britta finally found sleep.