Tales of Elandria

One

The Escape

Her feet hit the ground hard. The muscles in her legs were weak and burning from lack of use over the last six years. Shiloh’s mind could focus on one thing alone: run, as fast as she could and as far as her feet would take her.

Frigid air rushed past her face and through her long, matted hair. The ground around her was covered in frost and her frantic breaths hung in the air like little clouds; lingering behind her as she bolted. The sky grew darker with each meter gained. Shiloh pushed her body further.

Flashes of the last image she saw (Gorgahl’s mangled, unconscious body) overwhelmed her. With it came a torrent of similar images: the other children dead, the ascent up the damaged ladder to the dusty floor above... Emotion so overwhelmed her that she barely took notice of her surroundings.

She ran blindly down the uneven dirt path; oblivious to a thin layer of black ice that blanketed a sharp stone just ahead. Her foot landed hard on the unnoticed obstacle and caused her ankle-joint to roll in its socket.

Shiloh lost her balance and stumbled over onto the frigid ground. Her knees made sharp contact with the cold terrain; she winced as small rocks and frozen soil tore into the flesh on her knees. No stranger to pain, Shiloh stood shakily; ignoring the warm, sticky blood that poured from her newest wound and willed her legs to carry her farther from that awful place.

There was visible trauma on her body from the blast that had secured her escape, as well as layers of intermittent scarring from the shackles that had bound her to the wall of her cell. The still bleeding gash from her fall did not look a bit out of place amongst the collective mosaic of bruises, blisters, and lacerations.

As the distance between Shiloh and her captor grew ever greater, her pace transitioned from panicked to liberated. She began to laugh openly as she continued to run, and she ran until the moon replaced the sun above her and the stars flooded the deepening sky.

Only then did she slow to a stop. Breathing hard, Shiloh felt the thunder before she heard it. A rich storm cloud unfurled its mass above her, blanketing the stars, and deepening to match the color of the cosmos. As Shiloh noticed the sudden shift in energy, the temperature dropped drastically and the sky above her opened.

She felt her legs begin to succumb to their tiredness and dissolve wearily to the ground. Her hands gripped the earth and felt its rough constitution soften with the arrival of a freezing rain. Looking around she saw barren trees silhouetted against the dark sky, and withering bushes nearby looked to be long dead, their brittle branches void of leaves or berries.

She sat there on the muddy ground in silence, her feet well past being numb.

Shiloh was alone.

Rain fell to the ground around her body and splashed up onto her blistered skin. The smell of earth was all around her, the symphony of the night lost to the song of storm.

She turned her head at the sudden sound of footsteps nearby. Summoning all her strength she manifested a faintly shimmering aura of concealment -- this was her magical ability. From the moment she was born, Shiloh was able to manifest auras. Whatever emotion or intention she needed would appear around her like a mist, each one visible only to those who possess magic. The aura’s intention determined its color, and as she manifested this aura, a lavender mist settled around Shiloh. The floating intention threatened to dissipate -- Shiloh was weak, she needed to be careful not to lose focus. As she shut her eyes and breathed in the icy air of freedom; the power of her spell strengthened in response.

It had been many long days and many more, much longer nights, since the world around her lived as she did. The time she had been locked away took from her the ability to tell when one day ended and another began... The normalcy of day and night were lost to her.

The raindrops kissed her tired eyes and washed the stench of filth and neglect off her delicate skin. With every moment that passed the footsteps drew nearer, but there was no fear in Shiloh. After what she had lived through, she was not sure she had the capacity to fear anything in this world again.

She watched as a young woman walked past, oblivious to Shiloh’s presence, and wondered if this stranger had ever known fear as Shiloh did.

Appearing healthy and well-dressed, she carried with her a little umbrella, upon which hung a lantern, and a small basket filled with things that Shiloh could not see. As the young stranger passed, the air around them swirled and left a sweet cinnamon smell on the breeze.

As the woman faded to the distance, Shiloh released the aura and decided to get off her knees. With great effort, she heaved her body up off the ground and stood; alone and alive, and wept.

Tears mixed with drops of rain as the beat of her heart synchronized with the pulse of the storm. Many moments passed with nothing but the storm raging around her. As Shiloh wept, she let out all the pain, anger, resentment, and betrayal that she had shoved down inside her heart to survive her captivity.

She released it all. She let it flow from her cheeks and into the earth, out of her body and her soul -- and as the rain ended, her tears followed suit. With the passing of the storm, both the spirit of the Earth and that of her own were renewed. Shiloh opened her eyes. As they adjusted to the darkness, she noticed that several branches on a nearby bush seemed to have been renewed with life. Little green leaves budded where once was the nakedness of a barren branch. Shiloh breathed in the smell of a second chance and smiled.

Pulling herself to her full height, Shiloh shook the collected drops from her exposed shoulders and shivered slightly beneath her tattered tunic. The time-worn fabric provided no barrier between the chilly night air and her skin, allowing the shiver to descend into her core and linger longer than was comfortable.

Suddenly, the pain in her body made itself known. Gingerly Shiloh investigated her left ankle, discovering a deep gash on the outside of it. It was ragged, and now that the rain had stopped, it shone with the wetness of blood. She would have to travel at a slower pace now, as the pain in her ankle was joined by the crescendo of many small, angry cuts all over her body, announcing their presence in unison.

Shiloh checked her reserve of magic. Empty. Wishing she had saved her last bit to conjure up a little magical fire, she stared out in the direction she had seen the other woman disappear. Still shivering, she decided there was no point in dwelling on her frivolous decision to conceal herself. Shiloh reasoned there was bound to be a village nearby, and, taking care where she placed her feet, padded onward.

After what seemed like an interminable amount of time, she discovered the edge of a small settlement. Slowly making her way farther into the place, she found there were two street-carts being set up in the dark. They appeared to have the monopoly on market vendors, and the grim outlines of the men attending them looked as though they had been cut from the very same cloth. Oblivious to her true condition, Shiloh limped into the main road that ran the length of the town, hoping desperately to find herself somewhere to eat and to bathe.

Making her way down the street, she turned her face upward and noticed the sky beginning to lighten. Lazily in the distance, several birds began chirping.

One of the men who was setting up his market cart with a variety of fungi, stopped what he was doing and stared at Shiloh. His face twisted up into an expression of disgust. He quickly set his wares out and then left his stand, scurrying into a nearby house.

Following the man with her gaze, she looked up from his home to see that the Sun had started to rise. The light in the sky gradually gaining momentum causing the millions of stars above that sleepy town to surrender their own light to that of the great star; bidding the Earth farewell.

The rays grew and touched the darkest parts of the town, bringing warm hues to Shiloh’s grim reality. Across the street an impressive tavern beckoned her. She considered the building: the sturdy storefront with its proud sign, declaring the name of “Lapoul’s Place”, and appreciated the idyllic image presented, and embellished to her, by the rising sun.

Shiloh closed her eyes and lifted her arms above her head, stretching her aching body, and allowing the heat of the sun to kiss her skin. She greeted the rays of the sun with reverence and abated longing. There was an intimacy imbued in this cosmic moment apparent only to Shiloh.

During the reunion between these long-lost friends, small wisps began to take shape. They looked to be fireflies at first but grew into pinecone-sized orbs of light. Amber and crimson as well as varying shades of green and deep blue began to pulse in unison. At first their movements appeared random and Shiloh was unsure if anyone around could see the wondrous happenings before her.

Although this moment was unlike any she had experienced, Shiloh felt no fear. She followed the call of her spirit and allowed the sun to fill her reserve with fresh power. The colors that had materialized before her synchronized their movements and began a clockwork rotation around her broken body. After a mere heartbeat, the wisps, settled on Shiloh and absorbed into her sun-kissed skin. She felt a rush of power as a sudden sense of purpose washed over her.

Once her magical reserves were filled, Shiloh allowed herself a moment to take in her surroundings and decided to enter the nearby shop. As she walked toward Lapoul’s Place, the second man she had encountered this morning, who admittedly had not been paying much attention to her beforehand, could now not help but follow her with his gaze. Intrigue burning inside of him. He was not of magical descent and therefore the true magic of the moment recently passed could not have been seen by his eyes, only felt by his spirit. The wisps of color may only reveal their beauty to those blessed with the gift of magic.

As Shiloh disappeared into the charming shopfront, a sort of emptiness washed over the second merchant, who had momentarily forgotten his wares. He shook it off, chalking it up to his tiredness, and tried to put the haggard-looking wild woman out of his mind.

Inside, Shiloh scanned the cozy tavern. Several wooden tables were placed comfortably throughout, each of them afforded equal access to the many firepits burning cheerfully around. There were not many patrons inside, and only one barkeep. The wooden floorboards made no noise as Shiloh made her way across the threshold, but her entrance seemed to have stirred the air around her. An older man with black hands and a shining forehead looked up from his plate of food and stared at Shiloh.

The building appeared to be in good condition, which stood in sharp contrast from her current physical appearance. Behind the bar was a young man, barely old enough to saddle a horse on his own. Despite his size, Shiloh watched as he successfully removed a large drunk from the corner of the bar and rolled him out the back. Upon returning, his gaze landed on Shiloh.

“My Gods, woman! What happened to you!?” the young bartender exclaimed, drawing the attention of every other patron who wasn't already staring at the mysterious stranger. “Lapoul! Seek the physician immediately!” he barked at the man stoking the nearest fire. One look at Shiloh, and Lapoul dropped his bellows and sprinted out the back, jumping over the recently evicted and now-snoring brute.

Shiloh wanted to insist they not make a fuss but could feel her weakness despite a full reserve of power. Resisting the urge to decline assistance, she allowed herself to sink into the nearest chair, which happened to be waiting directly being her. Sitting there on the soft, plush cushion, her tired and achy muscles released their tension. She closed her eyes, and sleep threatened to overtake her. Allowing herself to succumb to the necessary rest instead of fighting it, her breathing slowed to a relaxed pace. Despite the danger that was lurking not far from her, Shiloh remembered feeling herself breathing somewhat easily for the first time in years, before surrendering entirely to sleep.