PART ONE
My name is Caharin Seluna Nal’tressva, and I am the last of my House. As I sit among the ruins of Kenda Tu’s temple, I find myself amidst a new battle. Our journey has ended, but did we truly succeed?
I notice vaguely that a significant part of the day has passed. For a moment, I appreciate the bit of magic trapped in the ring on my finger. I do not know how it works, nor do I care, but thanks to it I no longer have need of food or drink.
I wonder, as I rise to begin the trip home, if Prince Lukas knew how this quest would change me. Did he send me because I was suited for it, or did the Council decree it? Was my selection because of -- wait. Maybe I am getting ahead of myself. Let me start at the beginning. Do you have a minute?
This story begins in elven lands, where there is great celebrating and music. A third child is born to House Nal’tressva! A female this time, with hair the color of snow and the radiant golden eyes that only the noble magi have. She is healthy, she is lauded, and she is smiling.
She grows into a fine young elven maiden with an astute mind, quick reflexes, astonishing beauty, and a talent for music; however, she lacks the trait which makes her House noble. She cannot use magic. Her elder brothers are already being hired by nobles, princes, and kings. To hire a Nal’tressva mage is to hire perfection, and never has a member of the House disappointed. The girl is left behind, forgotten, for what is a mage without magic?
The girl is not distressed. She spends her days in the forest, exploring, mapping, and wondering about the world. As a young adult, she is commonly found among the guards, listening to war stories long past and slightly exaggerated. They teach her to use a sword, and she gains endurance that rivals even the men.
“You could be the first female guard this town has seen!” exclaims one, as he hands her a mug of ale, and she realizes they do not recognize her as a noble. Marius, a young soldier, puts his arm around her shoulders as they sing songs of heroes past. She is one of them, they are joyous, and they are laughing.
Years pass, and she grows strong. A common smith forges for her a blade made from fine elven steel. It is not fancy, and a noble would have been disgusted by its lack of decoration, but to the girl, it is perfect. It is sturdy, sharp, and flawlessly balanced. She duels some of the guards in merriment. Unbeknownst to them, today is her birthday.
She goes home that evening to strange chanting and the smell of sulfur coming from her parents’ study. She is used to spells and the aromas that sometimes accompany them, but this is new to her. She does not understand the words, but her mind is uneasy. She approaches the study, opens the door, and is met with rock and fire. Her hand flies up to cover her face...
Five months pass, and the girl wakes. Darkness is all she sees. Her body aches. She is weak. A cleric tells her she was injured; a spell gone awry. She is lucky to be alive. What was she doing at that house? “It is my house,” she replies in a whisper. “My name is...”
When she is nearly healed, she is summoned to court. A trial, she is told, to decide the fate of House Nal’tressva. Standing before the Council and the nobles, she is told the magi were using dark magic, unlawful magic, and documents were discovered containing plans to overthrow the royal house. What did she have to say for herself? She is angered, she is confused, but she is calm.
“I am Nal’tressva, but I am no mage. I know not what my family did, for I was ignored, forgotten, and unknown to all of you until I spoke my own name. What becomes of my family is solely upon them, for I will not answer for crimes not my own. I already suffer for their transgressions, whatever they may be. What more could you do?”
All are in shock. No noble, especially an heir, had ever condemned his own House. For three long minutes, not a word is spoken. All know her words to be true, for not only had no one known who she was, but fate had unjustly punished her for her family’s actions. The blast which had wounded her so severely for months has left her incurably blinded. Dark scars cover her eyes, now empty sockets, though her right arm and hand bear the scars that would have covered the rest of her countenance.
“You are hereby stripped of your nobility, and House Nal’tressva ceases as of this moment. Any magi of the House are hereby banished from elven lands. Let it be known that dark magic is not permitted or tolerated anywhere within our borders! Let this child be an example to all of you who would think to go against the Council’s wishes!”
All eyes are upon the girl. A few feel pity, but most feel anger and hatred. Justice has been done here, they think. The House got what it deserved. This girl is no better than her parents. The few who feel pity are the guards surrounding her—the ones who know her and in a way, raised her. They, for the first time, understand who she really is.
She is released and given the remainder of House Nal’tressva’s vast wealth. She pays the clergy for her time in healing. She pays the for the damages to her family’s house, then sells it at a loss to a fledgling noble looking for property in a better part of the city. She settles in a small, three-room dwelling at the edge of the commons, close to the forest, hoping to once again be overlooked. Her possessions are few, and the walls bear no ornaments.
She is blind, she is still weakened, but she is alive.
A few days pass, and the girl is slowly learning how to “see” the world through sound. She speaks to no one. She spends a great deal of time in the forest, standing still, listening to the world around her. It is nighttime. She begins to feel the footsteps of a deer through her boots; the slight wind from an owl’s wings overhead; the bull frogs croaking in the riverbed; all these give her a mental picture of her surroundings. Then, louder, more defined steps from behind her...
“You have business with me? Identify yourself.” The girl tenses, the fighter in her silently assessing the situation and her options.
“I... I’m sorry for intruding, but...” stammers the intruder.
“Marius? What are you doing here?” Her body relaxes as she concentrates on his voice.
“Well I, I mean, some of the men and I, well, we weren’t sure... you were unconscious for so long...” She walks closer to the man. He pauses at the sight of dark purple cloth covering her maimed eyes, a stark contrast to the snow white hair framing her scarred face.
“I... we miss you. We didn’t know... it doesn’t matter what your family did. You aren’t like them. I always considered you one of us. And now... Why should anything change? Damn the Council! What right do they have to slander you?” Marius is shaking, angry.
“I have no purpose, Marius,” says the girl. “I once believed I could join the city guard, but what is a guard without sight? I dreamed of adventure, but how am I to find my way on unknown roads? I will not give up on life, but I must learn what my life will be with this... this change.”
“Well then... Continue training with me! Come and spend time at the barracks. Let me help you, please...”
It is raining. It is night. The girl makes her way slowly through the city; a cloak covers her leather and chainmail armor that feels a little heavier than she remembers. Water droplets plink off the sword strapped to her back which has not been wielded for almost a year. She approaches the gate entrance to the barracks. She smells the oil burning in lanterns from the parapets above, overlooking the entry.
“Who goes there?” a voice asks, curiosity coming through his militant tone.
“A friend, though it has been nigh a year since I last tread these grounds, Da’nurial.”
“Is it really...? Oy! Haedric! Open the gate, you lazy swine!”
The gate opens and the girl enters. Da’nurial and Haedric come to greet her in the common room as she lowers her hood. They have heard of her condition from the guards at the trial, but this is the first they have seen her.
Marius is true to his word. He and the other guards continue to train her, now with more emphasis on hearing her opponent and predicting his movements through his footsteps. She learns to anticipate attacks; she listens for a change in stance, breathing, or the shifting of a weapon. She meets every challenge.
Another year passes. Her training enhances her other senses, and she slowly feels less vulnerable without her sight. Little by little, things return to normalcy, as they were years ago. She is strong, she is accepted, and she is cheerful.
I wish this was where the story ended.
Sirens sound.
The girl wakes to blaring horns and hurries to ready her equipment. The moment she opens her door, she is met by the smell of smoke and cries of panic. She begins to make her way to the barracks, only to be met by a guard halfway there. She follows, silently, listening to the commotion.
Orders are hastily given out as the girl is filled in on what has happened. The neighboring kingdom has invaded, sending the thieves’ guild ahead to set fire to vital buildings. Military forces have been dispatched in defense, but already they are at a disadvantage.
The battle rages. The girl hears the clash of sword and axe, the whips of bow strings, the whistle of arrows; battle cries and death howls; horses’ hooves and owls’ screeches. She smells the burning homes, charred flesh, and the metallic tinge of blood. For a moment, she is grateful she cannot see the massacre.
Without hesitation, she joins Marius in combat. Her body remembers the training, and her mind is focused. After a time that feels like minutes, but she knows has been hours, the world becomes silent. The screams have gone, and not even the morning sparrow sings. The smell of bloodshed assails her nostrils, and she pants heavily. The burning wood has now become ash on her skin. Her body aches. She collapses.
The girl dreams. She is sitting near the edge of a great canyon, watching the sun rise over the amber painted desert. She watches clouds drift lazily overhead as the stars slowly disappear. She becomes aware of a man seated next to her, but she is not startled. He is handsome for a human, rugged and strong. His smile warms her and the sun dances on his tanned skin. He looks at her with eyes that swirl copper, bronze, and gold.
“Who are you?” the girl asks.
“I am the earth beneath your feet. I am the strength in your bones. I am the mountain and the canyon. I am the landslide that endangers you, and the cave that protects you. I am Kenda Tu’.”
“Then... have I died?” She asks, understanding that his every word resonated with unshakable honesty.
“Do not fear, child,” he says. “You are in a unique position right now. As you suspect, this is not your reality, nor is it a dream. I have brought you here to offer you a second chance... and to ask of you a favor. You are intelligent and logical, and that is something I admire in mortals. Though you are grown, your heart knows not of greed or arrogance.
"I ask that you leave your home. I ask that you travel places you have never been. I ask that you ally with the younger races against their foes. I ask that you fight creatures you have never imagined. I ask that you bring justice to those in need.”
"Justice... And how am I to accomplish this? I have never been across elven borders, and I know little of the younger races. I will do as you say, but I fear the outcome may be displeasing."
"My dear, surely you do not think I would send you without my blessing?"
The girl looks at him questioningly. She was not in the habit of doubting gods, despite her past.
"My blessing, dear one, is this." Kenda Tu' takes the girl's face between his palms. She leans in, entranced by the liquid marble of his eyes. She feels an intense pain in her eyes, and a scream escapes her lips. As her vision fades, she wakes among the smoldering aftermath.
Soldiers, clerics, and paladins are combing the city looking for survivors. One paladin approaches her, obviously hearing her armor as she stood. She turns to see a humanoid-shaped orange cloud reaching out to assist her.
