Chapter Nine
Lance
‘Your ex-wife is crazy,’ Father complained, entering Lance’s hut without permission.
Lance raised an eyebrow, not bothering to stand. His table was infested with dried herbs, his hands holding a small pouch.
‘We do not have marriage ceremonies here.’ Lance said, picking up a herb between his thumb and forefinger, crushing it, and sprinkling it into the pouch. ‘We find a mate, we stay with them, but unlike humans we don’t die of old age. Eventually everyone tires of the same partner.’
‘That’s not true!’ I blurted out, finally making him look up. ‘Father told me in Aneller you can only be with one person. Even if they die, you can never be with another, because they’re your soulmate, and no one could ever understand you like they do.’
An amused smile crossed Lance’s face.
‘Soulmate? It’s interesting how humans sprout such declarations, yet they understand their soul less than any other being existing. Can you see your soul, child? What is inside?’
I glared at him, clenching my fists.
‘Fire,’ I said. I hadn’t planned to, but the moment I said it I knew it was right. ‘I am fire.’
Lance’s laugh wasn’t quiet, like trickling water, but loud like a man drunk and unconcerned with appearance. He even snorted.
‘He’s been listening to your crazy ex-wife.’ Father said, rubbing his eyes. ‘Let’s get on with this; I’m tired. The boy’s already touched this ash, is there something I can pour it into?’
Lance’s face was still red, his breath unsteady as he stood.
‘Yes, a large pot in the kitchen. This way.’
They headed into another room, Father muttering under his breath. I glared at their backs, staying where I was.
That elf is weird. The eerie but dignified impression he’d given before was gone.
His hut was a mess. The herbs on the table had leaked to the floor. Scrolls were half-stuffed onto shelves, balancing dangerously.
I didn’t want to know what that blue liquid was on the floor.
I stepped cautiously around the puddle, bending to rescue a scroll a fingernail’s length away from its edge. I glanced at the tag wrapped around it.
The discovered history of the immortals (so far). I blinked in surprise, expecting it to be in an ancient elf language, but it was in the ancient Anellan my father had taught me.
After a quick glance towards the kitchen I pulled the string loose and unrolled the leaf-made (of course) parchment.
Over time, the immortals that have watched our realm, Ombasa, have let precious few details slip. The only known details were gathered in Aneller, where a temple has been built to honour this.
An immortal’s strength can be assessed by their name. The higher the letter within the alphabet the name begins with (the highest being A) determines their strength. This applies to all but the original four, who are the very spirit of the element they represent. Berthilda (fire), Dahila (Earth), Calliope (Water) and Eilir (Wind). Nothing is known of Eilir, or what happened to him, except he was replaced with Tyler (Ice) for breeding purposes.
Tyler is weaker than the three originals, yet he’s the one who names the immortal children. He is able to determine their strength through his tile making, whose end products are kept in the Temple of Arŕ Wel in Aneller. Once a child is named no one can reverse it.
All the immortal children are sterile. Twenty five have been ‘formed’ with only one, the strongest, left to be born. Once this happens the three originals will make themselves sterile, so no chances of two immortals with a similar level of power could exist, leading to disorder.
The immortal children, like the current originals, contain powers of an element. No wind children were ever formed. From their appearance it can be seen which element they hold: fire, earth, water or ice. Each element has its own realm the immortals dwell in. These are hidden and sealed so no mortal can find them.
An old legend speaks of a weapon, by breaking the immortal realm seals it would be forged, and could destroy an immortal’s power. Little is known of it, and is considered a myth.
Some immortals live in our realm instead, finding mortals entertaining. They either take positions as Gods or disguise themselves as humans. As a human they will appear to age, and even fake their deaths before returning to their own realm or beginning the cycle again from early teenage years. Many of the weaker named immortals (who are under direct control of stronger ones) come to our realm this way as a break from serving their betters. Only Xenos (of water) has never had contact with his other siblings, always remaining on our world.
The latest immortal to enter our realm is Rafferty (of earth), who has been granted fifty years of freedom before returning to his better Katriona (of earth). His whereabouts-
‘Boy, put that down!’ Father yelled, snatching the scroll from me. ‘How dare you be so rude when you’re a guest!’
‘It was on the floor!’ I protested, ‘I saved it from that puddle.’
‘Yes, it’s better you avoid that.’ Lance said, walking into the room with a log in his hands. ‘I forgot to clean it up before you arrived.’
‘Who wrote that scroll?’ I asked. Father glared down at me, but I ignored it and stared at Lance.
‘It came from Aneller.’ Lance said, placing the log on the table, on top of his herbs. ‘Brought by a young man, burdened with guilt, but eager to begin anew.’
Father was silent as he inserted the scroll into the shelf.
‘Are you two staying the night? I would love the company.’
‘But Mum is expecting us back!’ I said.
Father scoffed.
‘We can stay, Lance. No woman is ordering me home.’
‘But-’
Lance smiled and moved towards me. He clasped both my hands in his, waiting until I looked up.
‘There is a great strength hovering near you, trying to draw your courage out. I believe being here will help it find you.’
A comfortable warmth I’d never known before spread through me.
‘Maybe he’ll grow a backbone.’ Father muttered. Even his words couldn’t break through the warmth wrapped around me.
What is this? I should be scared.
A hush seemed to fall around me; I could almost hear a whisper. I closed my eyes, reaching out…
Thud. I jumped, eyes springing open to see Father propping up the log, examining it.
Lance let out an annoyed sigh.
‘Rest will help.’ He assured, patting my hands before letting go. ‘First some food. Perhaps you can help cook? How are you with eggs?’
I couldn’t stop myself laughing.
It was pitch black. I tried putting my hand in front of my face, and couldn’t see it. It was hard to feel anything, my whole body numb. I tried lifting a foot, but the whole world felt unstable, and I placed it back, head spinning.
I felt a sharp sting on the top of my head. Then another. Slowly I tilted my head up, eyes wide open to catch a glimpse of the falling sparks drifting down.
One was drifting close. I raised a numb arm, stretching it out so the spark landed on it. Ash, a piece of ash with the centre still alive.
The spark sizzled, igniting the ash into a small ball of fire. I flinched, pulling my arm back to my side. The numbness of my arm and head had left. The sore skin sensed the volcanic air, its oppressive heat making it throb.
More ash fell, I looked up, seeing their numbers increased, their descent faster, twisting and spiralling so it reached more areas of my body. The stinging was everywhere. I tried wiping it away, my palms stung, glowed red, sparks of its own beginning to appear.
I forced my feet to move, taking quick steps forward. My soles shrieked with pain, the floor like a stove.
I swallowed a scream and looked down. The floor was lit with sparks and baby flames, some dancing, leaping, while others sat content. They licked at my naked skin, making sparks appear like a rash.
Suddenly the passive sparks ignited, darting towards me. I shuffled back, but felt one from behind hit the back of my knee, exploding into flames.
The pain was excruciating. I was hit on my stomach, arms, face, everywhere. An endless scream was trapped in my throat as my skin melted away.
Kill me, kill me, this is too much. I can’t bear it!
Be calm, little one. The voice echoed from everywhere and nowhere. A female voice, a motherly voice. The pain is great, but it will end. Your path has been set.
I couldn’t answer, now a pile of charcoaled bones. Emotions were hard to grasp, but the place itself was still easy to sense.
The flames had died down, flickering back to ash. It floated towards the bones, cloaking them, burying them, until there was nothing else.
The bones began to change, grow, bend to different shapes. The ash hardened, dissolving into the bones and forcing its structure onto me.
This pain was even worse. I wanted it to stop and leave me as nothing.
What are you doing to me!
You are being reborn as fire.
A giant skeleton erupted from the ash pile, a thunderous roar escaping. The ash continued to crowd it, weaving muscle and skin, flesh and blood, scales and horns.
This place is the beginning.
Of what?
Everything.
The remaining ash scattered, caught by a swift breeze. The red dragon awkwardly moved its long neck, looking into the distance where the ash had disappeared.
I squinted my eyes, seeing a red blob far away.
Who are you?
I will be you.
Scribbled Thoughts 