The Tears of Kas̆dael

Jasper awoke when he was seized in an enthusiastic embrace. Long blonde hair draped over his face, and he coughed as he breathed in a few strands of hair.

“You’re alive. You really came back.” Ihra drew back, and despite the joy in her face, Jasper noticed a momentary tremble in her lower lip, as she mumbled, “Why couldn’t they come back.” He winced, remembering what she told him of her family. But she pushed the thoughts away as she bounded up from the bed, the smile already back on her face.

“So what happened? Did the city survive? How long have I been dead?” Jasper peppered with all the questions that had been eating away at him.

Sitting at the edge of the bed, she ticked off his answers. “Four days, yes, and that’s a long story.”

“Four days?!” His hands shook as he took the news in, and he absentmindedly rubbed the new scar on his neck. I’ve been dead for four days?

She waited patiently as he composed himself, brushing her hair back behind her ears. The nubs on her head had grown just a little bit longer, and her ears seemed a touch pointier than before. At last, he shook his head. “Alright, so long story short, what happened?”

Ihra watched in horror as her partner’s head fell on the wall, joined moments later by his headless torso. “Jaaasper!”

A wight stood above him, its back to her, with a crescent sword raised high above its head. The silver sword shone in the pale moonlight, and a thin cloud of icy vapors rose from its edge. Without thinking, she loosed an arrow at the creature's head. Even though the wight wasn't facing her, it somehow sense the incoming projectile and, with a deft flick of its sword, deflected the arrow into the wall. The arrow plowed deep into the stone battlement, quivering as it finally came to a halt.

Not stopping to breathe, Ihra grabbed another arrow from her quiver and aimed at the wight. At the last moment, she diverted its course, plunging into the head of a wight clambering over the wall a few feet in front of her. Even as it fell lifeless into the horde below, another pale hand grasped the top of the battlement. Desperation flooded her. Damn it. I’m going to be overrun. Her eyes fell on his body. I’ve got to get his body back. It’s his best hope for a resurrection. As the next wight pulled itself up, her arrow burrowed into its chest. It exploded out the back in a shower of gore, narrowly missing its heart, and the wight fell, screaming, back into the embrace of its comrades.

Perhaps the scream attracted its attention, for the tall wight holding the frozen sword slowly turned to face her. Her blood ran cold as she saw it clearly for the first time. The creature towered above her, at least eight feet in height. It was almost naked, a tattered silk gown doing little to conceal its voluptuous breasts, but the body was not quite that of an elf.

Its legs ended, not in feet, but in the hooves of a deer, and large patches of its body were covered in mangy fur. Two massive antlers swept up from its head, a silver diadem nestled between them. The undead deer lady took a slow step toward Ihra, and she shrank back as a supernatural fear swept through her veins, paralyzing her. Is that the Queen?

The creature stared at her for a moment, cocking its head to the side in curiosity. Then it spoke, its voice rumbling like the sound of an avalanche crashing down the mountain slopes, smashing all that stood before it. “Why are you fighting me, my child? Come, take your place with us.” The creature held out its hand with a welcoming gesture.

Ihra shuddered as she looked at the misshapen hand, half-covered in fur thickly matted with blood. She wanted to scream, to cry, to run as far from the creature as she could. Instead, she took a halting half-step forward, her mind in horror screaming as her body betrayed her. One step, then two, as she neared the creature's outstretched arm. Her hand stretched out towards the creature's blood-stained mitt. But her progress was stopped when a weight fell on her shoulder. A feeling of warmth surged through her frozen limbs as a torrent of essence raged through her body, lifting whatever hold the creature had on her. Her body her own again, Ihra stepped back hastily, finding herself pressed against her savior.

“Leave her alone, mother.” There was a caustic bite to her tone as Aphora spat the word out. Her eye fell on the headless corpse of Jasper on the wall. “And the boy too. They’re mine.”

The queen frowned. “What’s yours is mine, daughter. Clearly, I’ve been gone for far too long.” She stalked forward slowly. “I guess you didn't learn your lesson from the Aoni. Children should listen to their parents." The deer woman paused. As she talked, her breath transformed into vaporous clouds, illuminated in the cold light of the moon.

But Aphora refused to back down. Placing a protective hand on Ihra, she stepped forward defiantly. Her mother stared at her, apparently perplexed, and then shrugged. "Very well. Perhaps you’ll learn once I deprive you of your toys.”

The queen raised the frozen sword in her hand and muttered a word beneath her breath. Time seemed to stand still as Ihra watched the sword morph into a giant spear that shot straight toward her chest. She tried to move, but her limbs betrayed her; she couldn't move a muscle. Ihra stared helplessly as her death approached her. And then dozens of thin silver strands swarmed around her. With a screech of metal, the spear was pushed off its trajectory, harmlessly slashing through the air.

An instant later, she was jolted backward as the strands dragged her fifty feet behind Lady Aphora, who walked forward with a slow, confident gait.

“Last time you took me by surprise. I expected my mother’s warm embrace and was met with a half-crazed doe. This time, things will be different.”

With a wave of her hand, the spear shrank back into the queen’s hand as she glared at her daughter. “So be it.”

She launched a relentless flurry of attacks at Aphora, her weapon rapidly switching back and forth between the spear and sword, striking with a speed so fast that Ihra could not track her movements. But no matter where she struck, she was thwarted by the silver cords that floated around Aphora. The cords wrapped around the weapon, trying to tear it from her grasp, but the ancient queen could not be so easily overpowered.

After a few seconds of their frenzied battle, the queen roared in frustration. “Enough, you troublesome child.” She leapt backward along the wall, landing far out of the reach of Aphora’s cords. The queen lifted her hands up as a cold, pale light slowly spread across her body. In a moment she was entirely submerged in an aura of moonlight. The world around her felt heavy and distorted, as if the moon itself had descended upon the wall. Ihra was forced to her knees, as she struggled to keep her head up and watch. The queen's voice echoed above the din of the battle, garbled and corrupted. “I didn’t want to do this, but you have left me no choice.”

She paused for a moment, and what might have once passed for a smile broke across her face. “I must admit, daughter, once you’ve learned your place, you will make an excellent addition to our forces. You are stronger than I could have ever hoped.”

As the queen spoke, Ihra could see the faintest sheen of silver spreading across Aphora’s skin, covering every inch. She’s drawing on her soul, she realized. Selene grant her strength.

The queen slashed out with her sword. Fueled by her soul, the crescent blade stretched across the space between them with the inevitability of an asteroid strike. The air ruptured in its wake with a sonic boom as the blade reached out to consume Aphora. In response, Aphora could only summon a single silver strand. It floated up in front of her, a thin thread against the hungry blade, and the queen smiled in victory.

And then the sword shattered. The queen was flung back as shards of metal showered the wall, embedding themselves into the stone. The pale light covering her form was quenched, and she slammed into the ground with an ear-shattering boom.

Aphora stared passively at the scene before, and a moment later the queen arose, cradling her right arm.

“I am no child, mother.” A pleading tone entered her voice. “Go home, back to Als̆arratu. These people here have done you no harm. Why are you doing this?”

The queen staggered slightly on her feet, still clutching her arm. She stared at her daughter, a hateful look in her eyes, but said not a word. Clutching the broken hilt of her sword, she leapt off the wall, landing in the gathered hordes of her army. She fled through her forces, and the din of combat fell silent as the creatures slipped away into the shadowed forests, following their mistress. When the queen had disappeared from sight, Aphora fell to her knees, her wails echoing through the night.

Ihra watched in silence, unsure of what to do. Aphora was weeping inconsolably, but Ihra didn’t dare approach the unstable elf. She didn’t think Aphora would try to hurt her but…Aphora could probably kill her with a simple backhand. And then she remembered Jasper.

His body still lay on the wall, where the queen had slain him. Creeping carefully around Aphora, she approached him. His head had fallen near his torso, and thankfully it had been spared the worst of the damage from the fight. A few shards of metal from the shattered sword had buried themselves into his body. Drawing a knife, she dug them out as carefully as she could. A few treacherous tears burned in her eyes, but she willed them away.

“How are you doing, lassie.” She looked up to see a captain looming over her shoulder. She recognized him from the guild meeting. What was his name again?

“I’m okay, Captain-“

“Ellēs̆u,” he provided.

“But my friend.” Ihra gestured at his head and corpse. She looked up, unable to keep a quiver out of her voice. “Will he resurrect?”

The man shook his head, the memory of past regrets lurking in his tone. “I cannot tell you, lassie. Some do, some don’t.”

"Most don't," he muttered to himself.

Ellēs̆u patted her on the shoulder, and she tried not to flinch, not wanting to give offense. If the captain noticed her reaction, he made no mention of it. “I recognize the two of you. You’ve helped us out twice now.” He paused. “Tell you what, I’ll make sure his body gets taken back to the Sanctum. We’ll cast a preservation spell on it. If he comes back, his body will be waiting for him, and he’ll have an easier time of things. And if not, well, you can stay in the cottage till you find a new group.”

His eyes lost focus as he stared into the forests where the creatures had retreated. Finally, he sighed, turning back to Ihra. “I’m sorry, lassie. I got distracted there. I just have this feeling that the crisis is far from over.” He patted her on the shoulder again. “I’ve got to go now and check on my man, but I’ll make sure someone is sent to take care of your friend.” He moved off into the night as Ihra sat frozen beside the body. Please come back.

The first rays of dawn were peaking through the trees when a man came for Jasper’s body. She followed him back to the Sanctum, numbness gripping her heart. Although the fighting had ceased, the streets were still empty. Aside from a few scurried glances out the window, she saw no signs of others. They reached the Sanctum without issue, and the man laid Jasper’s body on the bed. A few hours later a mage stopped by the cottage. She used magic to stitch his head back on his body, although a thick scar remained, and cast a preservation spell on him. And then Ihra was left alone.

Her solitude did not last long. Unable to bear sharing the house with a silent corpse, she headed out into the village, gathering food for the orphanage. The children were delighted to see her, clinging onto her neck with sticky fingers. When they asked about Jasper, she evaded the question. “He’s on a trip, but he’ll hopefully be back soon.” The words sat heavy in her stomach, and she prayed they were true. Please don't leave me alone again.

When night fell, Ihra couldn’t bring herself to sleep in the cottage, just a few feet away from his dead body. Eventually, she fell asleep in the stable, curled up in the hay.

She awoke the next morning to hear a loud banging on the cottage door. A tall man was pounding on the door, his long black hair bouncing on his shoulders with the force of his blows. Clearing her throat with some effort, she spoke. “Yes?”

If the man was surprised to see her stumble out of the stables, straws of hay haphazardly poking out of her hair, he hid it well. The guild attendant gave the faintest hint of a bow before replying. “Sorry Miss, uh, Ihra?” She nodded. “Good. The guild just sent me to check on the situation. I take it your partner hasn’t risen?”

She started to shake her head, then caught herself. “Actually, I don’t know. I slept outside last night. Let me check.” Her hand paused at the door, dread rising within her, but she pushed through it. I have to check. He lay on the bed, his position unchanged. She closed the door gently behind her, forcing a sad mockery of a smile on her face. “No, he’s still there.”

“I’m sorry, miss.” To his credit, the words seemed sincere. She waited for him to leave, but he lingered at the doorstep.

“The guild was wondering if maybe you’d like to take a job? You don’t have to-“

“Yes,” she cut him off.

The man paused in surprise. “But you don’t even know what the job is.”

She shook her head firmly. “It doesn’t matter. I can’t stay here.”

Understanding flooded his eyes, and he just nodded. Reaching into his bag, he handed her a slip of paper. “The details you need on this. We’re sending out scouts to keep an eye on the Queen’s army. The guild isn’t sure if she’s really given up, and Lady Aphora has locked herself away in her enclave. Until we’re sure the coast is clear, the city remains under lockdown.”

Ihra scanned the paper idly, the words barely registering in her brain. Folding it up, she nodded. “I’ll be there.”