As I've stated elsewhere, my lovely and talented wife has had an integral part in developing the vast and interlocking series that is the Magic Realms. When she wasn't helping me with developing these, and other stories, she was working on her own endeavors including a fantasy story series of her own, "The Guardian".
It is now my privilege to share one of the stories from this series that features a character that I helped to develop. This one takes place before her main series begins and provides a glimpse into the history of two characters in it.
A lanky, blond haired man sat on a three legged stool under the shade of a gnarled old tree with his sharp features set in deep contemplation. His electric teal blue eyes looked towards the fading mists in the forest beyond the hillside where his humble fabric tent sat, but he didn’t see them fading into shadows as the morning sun rose behind him. He was looking inward, remembering the past and wondering why it haunted him, mocking him in his dreams.
He fingered a lock of soft grey wool, a basket full waiting beside his stool to be prepared into rolls of fiber for spinning thread. He laughed in his heart as the memory of that accursed night welled up, threatening to drag him back into nightmares. I once thought this material beneath me ... I considered so much beneath me … What a fool!
Once a proud Elemental Lord, hailing from the realm of lightning, he sat there now as a wandering craftsman. A mere human, cursed to remain ageless and powerless. Why the Creator had spared his proud life from the hand of the assassin, he did not know. Her knife stroke should have killed him and the sea she threw him into should have drowned him.
Yet… A passing Water Elemental, a sea dragon, caught him while he was sinking and brought him to the shore far from his former Kingdom. There he was taken in by humble monks who tended his deadly wound and endured his powerless rage. When Ion finally came to grips with his human state, his former kingdom lay in ruins.
Rival kings had waited in the shadows for his fall, brought about by the assassin they hired, then they swooped on the dismayed subjects like vultures. The secret of the highly prized elemental thread and cloth Ion himself developed went to the grave with his most skilled and loyal subjects. The rest of his people were quickly dispersed, dragged away as slaves or fleeing to safety from the ruined desert city.
It had been over fifty years since that day.
He had spent a long while in the monastery, wandering its halls aimlessly, crushed by his human weakness. Eventually he discovered a spinning wheel tucked away in the murky corner of a storeroom, a beautiful, shapely little device made of rich yellow wood some apprentice in his former kingdom had built and traded away in order to advance his skill in the craft.
Ion nearly wept at the sight of it. He gently brought it out of the darkness, polished it with oil and beeswax. Then he cut a new band of coarse thread to drive the mechanism.
As soon as his foot touched the pedal, the wheel turned, the flyer and bobbin spun in union, and Ion rediscovered his love for spinning thread. He traded labor for rough, dirty wool to spin, eventually trading the thread itself for more tools and finer materials.
The monks renamed him ‘Lightcatcher’, for his ability to weave beautiful cloth from his spun thread. He regretted leaving his given name behind, but he adopted it gratefully. Eventually he left the sanctuary of the monastery, joining with a traveling caravan in order to obtain access to more diverse materials for his trade. No one recognized him as the Thunder King anymore, a part of the curse of being human he suspected.
The only one who knew of his past was his traveling companion, O’Malley, another who didn’t age that he’d met when he joined the caravan. They continued traveling the same circuit, even after the rest of the caravan had disbanded when the leaders were too old to keep going.
Ion sighed as he heard stirring in the tent behind him and set the wool back in the basket. He stood, stretching out his long limbs before going to hang the coffee pot over the fire. Why he sticks around is a wonder. He could go home easily if he’s an Elemental as I suspect. He can’t resist those reagents for brewing new ale I guess ... He chuckled dryly to himself as he began picking up around the campsite, preparing for the day’s travel.
O’Malley stepped out of the doorway of the tent, suppressing a yawn and rubbing the sleep out of his deep brown eyes. Fiery red hair stuck out crazily on the side of his head, while it was matted flat on the other. His full beard and moustache was too short to be affected by his deep slumber. Ion looked at his stoutly built cohort and smirked in amusement at the sight of his hair.
“You missed the sunrise again, O’Malley! Any longer and the coffee would be gone.” He chastised in a mocking tone.
O’Malley looked over, squinting through still sleep-laden eyelids. “Mmm.. Don’t lie, ye just put the pot on.”
“Hmmph!” Ion snorted and turned to get breakfast together.
Today was the final stretch of their northward journey, ending in a small town tucked away in the high Angel mountains bordering the Red Forest. There they would rest for some time before beginning the southward trip. Ion looked forward to seeing the progress of his students, both spinners and weavers of varying skill and age. There was a young human girl, extremely talented in magic, who was learning to make elementally imbued thread, a step below the materials Ion’s former kingdom made.
As he thought about his students, he couldn’t help but get a warm, distant smile. He used to teach the highly skilled, the nobles, those worthy of his teachings. Now I teach children and old women.. The poor. What a change! They’re so happy to learn though. I wonder if old Hannah is still fussing with that makeshift loom of hers?
O’Malley, wide awake and sipping his first cup of coffee, watched Ion move about with amusement plastered on his face as if he could read Ion’s thoughts.
Ion noticed the smirk, flipped an egg in the pan and looked over at O’Malley crossly. “Are you just going to sit there?”
“Yes, I am. If it makes ye any happier, I poured ye a cup.” He spoke as he held up a chipped grey mug hidden behind one of his legs.
Ion took it with a huff. “Maybe.”
Breakfast was soon finished and the camp packed up into an old wagon hidden down the hillside a bit. Their horse, an old stout dappled grey, formerly a plow horse, tapped his hoof with impatience as they harnessed him. He bore the wagon faithfully up into the mountains as they led him down well worn paths. It wasn’t until late afternoon that they reached the outskirts of their destination.
Even from a slight distance, with trees blocking their view, Ion and O’Malley could sense that something was wrong. There was a foulness in the air near the town that could be felt, even by Ion in his human state.
They stopped short on the road and without a word, led the horse off the path, unhitched the wagon and let him free. With flaring nostrils and wide eyes full of terror, the giant horse took off like a shot into the woods away from the town.
O’Malley held out a hand, summoning a giant two-handed war hammer into it. He looked at Ion, his face grim. “I’ll go ahead, ye stay back and watch from the woods.”
Ion nodded, knowing he would be near useless in a fight, especially if it was fel corrupted cultists like they suspected. Only they could make the very air in an area so foul. Ion watched as O’Malley moved off, then crept forward silently after him, keeping to the shadows and behind what cover there was.
It didn’t take long for the sounds of fighting to erupt and Ion soon saw flashing light the colors of fel magic and darkly adorned robes of deranged human cultists through the trees. He could see O’Malley unleashing his wrath on them, wielding both the power of Earth and the energy of true Magic to defeat those who dared to attack him. They seemed to be coming out of the woodwork, popping out from behind buildings and from the thick brush among the forest trees.
Ion turned his eyes and saw a ritual site set up on the far end of the town square, with rough wooden cages lining one side. His heart burned with rage at seeing helpless townsfolk trapped inside. This was the very thing I was sent to defeat! Curse this human form!
It took only a moment for Ion to make a decision, he couldn’t stand idle. With all the speed he could muster, he darted around the edge of the town, behind buildings and over fences, until he reached where he could cut directly across to the cages.
A cat Creature, a puppet of the cultists, was standing guard in the shadows nearby. Ion took him down with one strong, swift blow directly to the nose, causing him to collapse in an unconscious heap at Ion’s feet. Ion searched the cat’s robes, finding a ritual dagger secured to his belt. He drew it out with a shudder of disgust and used it to cut the crude rope bindings on the cages.
The townsfolk were overjoyed, but Ion’s heart broke at their pitiful state. They were ragged, pale, and desperately thin. It was obvious they had been in the clutches of the cultists for some time. Ion buried his helpless wrath and herded the bewildered people away from the center of town, towards the safety of the far woods. He could hear O’Malley and noticed the fight getting dangerously closer.
As he ushered them forward, he glanced back towards the fight. His eye caught sight of a cultist with more fanciful robes than the others, hiding in the shadows of an alleyway between buildings, conjuring up something in between his hands.
The hairs on the back of Ion’s neck stood up as he recognized the powerful fel casting taking place. O’Malley was busy with other cultists and hadn’t noticed this one. If he was successful in his cast, he could kill O’Malley, even if he was a mixed Elemental as Ion suspected. Not willing to allow even the chance of it, Ion sprang towards the caster like a bolt. The glow in the air around the cultist’s hands indicated that the spell was almost ready.
Ion threw himself at the man, grabbing his hands and disrupting the spell. The air warped, heated like an oven suddenly opened, and crackles of the now-unbound magic arced out from the spot where his hands were. Ion drew in his breath, wide eyed, knowing what would happen in the next moment. Creator ... Forgive me!
An explosion of green, purple, and crimson light filled the alleyway, tearing apart the sides of the two buildings and leaving them half rubble. The noise roared like a peal of thunder and a sudden rumble shook the ground.
Then … There was absolute silence. Stillness settled over the battlefield as O’Malley gaped in horror at where his friend just was and the cultists stood, stunned by the spectacular destruction of their leader.
A heartbeat passed and O’Malley turned in rage towards those who were left, only to stop short as his anger was immediately chilled with surprise. A fel creature approached from the shadows of the trees, a monster of green fire and twisted earth. It was an abomination born from the depths of the Fel Realm.
O’Malley adjusted his grip on his warhammer, not liking the thought of facing a fel elemental alone with so many cultists still in action. He could see them preparing to cast, grinning like jackals at the appearance of their trump card. Thick dark storm clouds gathered overhead and roiled like a boiling pot. A rumble of real thunder split the air like an explosion as lightning raced along the coiling edges of cloud.
I’m… Alive? Ion felt the energy of the lightning realm surging through his veins like a tidal wave, sparking with blue light from his hair, fingertips, and toes. In the moment of the explosion he’d felt incredible heat, heard overwhelming noise, and then he heard and felt nothing. All around him was darkness.
A voice whispered to him then, one he knew in his heart and missed dearly. A voice he could hear as an Elemental Lord, but ignored when he abandoned his duty and became a king on Crysalis.
“You’re forgiven, my son.”
Ion’s heart leapt with joy, mixed with shame. He didn’t deserve this forgiveness, this loving kindness. Creator! Please allow me to return and fulfill my duty ... I’m ...
“You are not finished. Go with renewed strength.”
That was when he opened his eyes to a sight which filled his heart with unabashed joy. A lightning storm! His human form fell away, shifting into that of a strong, long bodied, golden-yellow scaled dragon. Lightning arced from his translucent wings and tapering tail as he stretched them out, feeling whole for the first time in over fifty years. Then he descended from the clouds with a mighty, ear shattering roar. Lightning fell on the stunned cultists, leaving smoking craters where they stood.
O’Malley turned on the Fel Elemental with a grin. “Thank the Creator! That frees me up a bit!”
Both Ion and O’Malley destroyed the Fel Elemental in short order and stood together in human forms on the now-quiet battlefield, surveying the damaged town.
“I’m glad to see ye restored.” O’Malley said while contemplating a drink from a blue metal flask. He looked worn from the fight.
Ion chuckled, putting his hands on his hips. He looked fairly bedraggled himself with his hair stuck out at all angles. “I’m glad to be restored.” He glanced around, taking stock. “... What a mess..”
O’Malley looked at him, pulling the cork from the bottle, which made a distinct ‘thoomp’ sound. “Think ye be up for the task of rebuildin’?”
Ion sighed, then let a small smile play on his face as he slicked back his hair. It was starting to rain as the freed villagers began filtering slowly back into the ruins. “We’ll see.”
I hope you all enjoyed the first of her stories that I've shared! As a side note, she is also the talented artist responsible for the wonderful imagery you've seen on this site. You can find her own page here: https://www.facebook.com/Spinningshadowsfiberarts/
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