A Song of Snow and Ashes by S.J. Drew
shadows and vanished.
Mulago was a rich and busy city of about fifty thousand inhabitants. Most of the trade was related to the Arcane Academy, as many graduates chose to settle in the city and manufacture enchanted items. It was good business. A steady stream of high quality raw materials flowed in, along with a lot of money.
Eliora appeared in a small street near the Public Square of the city and followed the noise to emerge in a crowded plaza. It was about two hundred feet on a side, paved with large, flat stones, and most of the snow had been swept away. On the stones were carved the names of famous and wealthy people who had contributed to the city, but that was the only decoration. There were no fountains or statuary of any kind in the square. People crossed back and forth going to the high-class shops that surrounded it. There were a few street vendors, but these were looked upon with suspicion. Some people were clearly mages, and all were well-dressed. A few glanced at her cloak with contempt, but no one really took any notice of her. She looked to the north, and a few blocks up was a tall and imposing stone structure.
"That would be the Arcane Academy," she thought. She threaded through the crowds, feeling curiously at home. "It's rather like the bazaar," she thought. She was halfway across the square when she was caught by a chill wind, strong enough to push her hood down and much colder than the air around her. Driven by a strange compulsion, she stopped in her tracks, turned, and looked, not knowing exactly what she was looking for.
Donnan came out of the shadows in small street off the Public Square. He walked toward the crowded plaza, when he suddenly felt a flash of heat. Feeling oddly compelled, he stopped, turned, and looked, not knowing exactly what he was looking for.
She scanned the crowd, trying to find the source of whatever had caused the feeling that had disturbed her. Her eyes fell on a young man about her age. He was dressed in what she judged to be nice clothes for the region, complete with a long black cloak. He had a long, dirty-blond ponytail, a pale complexion, was clean-shaven, tall, lanky, and he was looking at her.
He looked around, trying to figure out what had bothered him. His eyes fell on a young woman about his age. She was wearing a nice, heavy dark purple dress and dark gray cloak. Her hair was glossy black and braided in a crown, her complexion was dark, she was tall, exotic, and she was looking at him.
Their eyes locked. Each recognized the other for what they were. Without conscious thought, they started to circle around each other, but getting closer with each step. The crowd moved for them, each person somehow realizing that they didn't want to be between those two. When they were just out of arm's length of each other, they stopped getting closer but continued to circle each other cautiously.
"So," he said. "You must be the LightBearer."
He was speaking Northern, although he had a rustic drawl to his speech. "I am. You must be the ShadowWalker," she returned.
Her voice had a strange, foreign accent. "You're a woman."
"You were expecting otherwise?"
"Yeah. I think I was," he replied. "You're not from around here."
"No, I'm not. What do we do now?"
"I'm not sure. I wasn't expectin' to meet you so soon."
"Me neither."
Business continued in the Square, albeit not within several feet of the Avatars. Both seemed oblivious to the crowd, and the crowd seemed determined to ignore them. They stopped their pacing, but kept out of arm's reach of each other.
"Are you goin' to kill me?" he asked.
She looked him over, feeling pity and concern. "He's just a boy, maybe my age. He doesn't like an evil or mighty warrior. He looks like I feel – scared and unsure of himself and what he's supposed to do. If I met him elsewhere, I might try to be friends with him. How could I be expected to kill him?" she thought. "I don't want to," she answered.
"Honestly?"
"Honestly. I don't want to kill anyone," she replied earnestly.
He could hear the sincerity in her voice. "Are you goin' to fight me?"
"If I must. Are-are you going to kill me?" she asked, her voice faltering.
"If you get in my way," he replied with a black look.
"Do you want to kill me?"
He looked her over, suddenly feeling sick to his stomach. "Gods damn it," he thought. "I expected to see a great warrior, riding a mighty horse and carrying a flaming sword or something. The LightBearer is a woman? She can't be older than I am, and she's kind of pretty. Gods, she looks as scared as I feel. And she must be far away from home and family. I don't want to fight a woman. If I met her on the street, I might ask her to dinner." He answered, "I don't know. You're not what I was expectin'. I was expectin' a warrior."
"I'm hardly that. I think I was expecting a warrior too. I certainly wasn't expecting someone so young."
"Young? You can't be more than a few years older than I am," he replied indignantly.
"That's probably true."
His eyes turned black and he peered into her soul. There was the touch of divinity, as expected, more Light than Dark, as expected, but the Darkness was surprisingly deep. "I wonder what that means. Is she evil? Angry? Bitter? How weird."
Her eyes turned white and she peered into his soul. There was the touch of divinity, as expected, more Darkness than Light, but she was surprised to find that both were still closely balanced.
"That's not what I was expectin' either," he commented.
"Me neither."
They stared at each other for another few moments.
"How do we get out of this?" he asked.
"We could step back slowly and go on our separate ways," she suggested.
"Or I could start a fight," he countered, mostly to see how she would react.
"I wouldn't."
"I know you wouldn't," he retorted.
"I mean, I wouldn't do that if I were you."
"Why not?"
"We'll soon be set upon by several dozen angry mages. Do you think you're really ready to fight me? And them?" she asked, suddenly worried for the safety of those around them.
"I hadn't thought of that," he replied, with a quick glance at the imposing Arcane Academy. "Alright, we step back slowly. But if we meet again, I'll won't be so nice."
She almost smiled at his clearly half-hearted threat. "Of course. Next time I'll be prepared."
They stepped backwards until they were about forty feet apart.
"Good day," he said, bowing very slightly.
"Good day," she returned. Even though she knew they were on opposing sides, she felt a connection, and a strong desire to apologize for what she knew was inevitable. "For what it's worth to you," she called. "I didn't want this, and I wish we didn't have to fight. I'm really sorry things had to be this way. You don't seem like a bad person."
Surprised by this outburst, he searched her face looking for a sign of deception, but her sentiments seemed genuine. He nodded slightly, feeling a connection to her in an odd way, and understanding her intention. "Yeah, I know. It wasn't my choice either. But we can't argue with the gods."
She sighed. "I know."
They continued to back up until both stepped into side streets. As if on cue, the crowd filled the Square again, and the other was lost from sight.
Eliora leaned against the cool stone wall and breathed deeply. "That wasn't supposed to happen. What are the odds he'd decide to visit the same day I do? I guess there's no help for it now." When she felt calmed down, she called to the iridescents. "Let me know if I'm being followed."
"Yes, Mistress." It bowed and vanished.
She pulled her hood back up and continued on her way to the Arcane Academy.
Donnan stood in an alleyway, still feeling sick at his stomach. "Damn it to darkness! Good gods, what're the odds I'd run into the LightBearer? She's just a girl." He shook his head to clear it. "No, it's too late now. There's no turning back." He called to the darklings. "Follow the LightBearer. D
on't do anythin', just don't get caught. I want to know what's she doin' here."
"Yes, Master," the creature hissed, sounding upset.
When it melted back into the shadows, he continued on his way.
The Arcane Academy was a large three story complex made of gray, black, and white heavy stone. It was only one building, but it branched out in places. The windows on the first floor were small and narrow, but the other floors had normal sized windows set with colored glass mosaics. The Academy was set apart from the rest of the downtown area buildings by a high wall of obsidian glass, and a large pair of metal gates. The glass was strengthened with decades worth of wards. The Academy was one of the few that was not destroyed or closed down after the Mage Wars. Many mages were born in the region, and the denizens had learned long ago that tolerating an Arcane Academy was preferable to the dangerous effects of wild and untrained magic. The school could hold up to three thousand students.
The one word that came to Eliora's mind as she stared at the metal gates was: fortified. She wasn't sure whether that was a result of the Mage Wars, or simply a precaution given the inherent volatile nature of teaching magic. A small wooden guard booth was set up by the gate, and was occupied by pair of bored looking guards.
"Name and purpose, please," one said in Arcana.
"I come under the name of 'Orlice' and I have an appointment with the Principal this morning regarding admission of an older student," she answered. She had given the name of her magical animal companion because the
Mulago was a rich and busy city of about fifty thousand inhabitants. Most of the trade was related to the Arcane Academy, as many graduates chose to settle in the city and manufacture enchanted items. It was good business. A steady stream of high quality raw materials flowed in, along with a lot of money.
Eliora appeared in a small street near the Public Square of the city and followed the noise to emerge in a crowded plaza. It was about two hundred feet on a side, paved with large, flat stones, and most of the snow had been swept away. On the stones were carved the names of famous and wealthy people who had contributed to the city, but that was the only decoration. There were no fountains or statuary of any kind in the square. People crossed back and forth going to the high-class shops that surrounded it. There were a few street vendors, but these were looked upon with suspicion. Some people were clearly mages, and all were well-dressed. A few glanced at her cloak with contempt, but no one really took any notice of her. She looked to the north, and a few blocks up was a tall and imposing stone structure.
"That would be the Arcane Academy," she thought. She threaded through the crowds, feeling curiously at home. "It's rather like the bazaar," she thought. She was halfway across the square when she was caught by a chill wind, strong enough to push her hood down and much colder than the air around her. Driven by a strange compulsion, she stopped in her tracks, turned, and looked, not knowing exactly what she was looking for.
Donnan came out of the shadows in small street off the Public Square. He walked toward the crowded plaza, when he suddenly felt a flash of heat. Feeling oddly compelled, he stopped, turned, and looked, not knowing exactly what he was looking for.
She scanned the crowd, trying to find the source of whatever had caused the feeling that had disturbed her. Her eyes fell on a young man about her age. He was dressed in what she judged to be nice clothes for the region, complete with a long black cloak. He had a long, dirty-blond ponytail, a pale complexion, was clean-shaven, tall, lanky, and he was looking at her.
He looked around, trying to figure out what had bothered him. His eyes fell on a young woman about his age. She was wearing a nice, heavy dark purple dress and dark gray cloak. Her hair was glossy black and braided in a crown, her complexion was dark, she was tall, exotic, and she was looking at him.
Their eyes locked. Each recognized the other for what they were. Without conscious thought, they started to circle around each other, but getting closer with each step. The crowd moved for them, each person somehow realizing that they didn't want to be between those two. When they were just out of arm's length of each other, they stopped getting closer but continued to circle each other cautiously.
"So," he said. "You must be the LightBearer."
He was speaking Northern, although he had a rustic drawl to his speech. "I am. You must be the ShadowWalker," she returned.
Her voice had a strange, foreign accent. "You're a woman."
"You were expecting otherwise?"
"Yeah. I think I was," he replied. "You're not from around here."
"No, I'm not. What do we do now?"
"I'm not sure. I wasn't expectin' to meet you so soon."
"Me neither."
Business continued in the Square, albeit not within several feet of the Avatars. Both seemed oblivious to the crowd, and the crowd seemed determined to ignore them. They stopped their pacing, but kept out of arm's reach of each other.
"Are you goin' to kill me?" he asked.
She looked him over, feeling pity and concern. "He's just a boy, maybe my age. He doesn't like an evil or mighty warrior. He looks like I feel – scared and unsure of himself and what he's supposed to do. If I met him elsewhere, I might try to be friends with him. How could I be expected to kill him?" she thought. "I don't want to," she answered.
"Honestly?"
"Honestly. I don't want to kill anyone," she replied earnestly.
He could hear the sincerity in her voice. "Are you goin' to fight me?"
"If I must. Are-are you going to kill me?" she asked, her voice faltering.
"If you get in my way," he replied with a black look.
"Do you want to kill me?"
He looked her over, suddenly feeling sick to his stomach. "Gods damn it," he thought. "I expected to see a great warrior, riding a mighty horse and carrying a flaming sword or something. The LightBearer is a woman? She can't be older than I am, and she's kind of pretty. Gods, she looks as scared as I feel. And she must be far away from home and family. I don't want to fight a woman. If I met her on the street, I might ask her to dinner." He answered, "I don't know. You're not what I was expectin'. I was expectin' a warrior."
"I'm hardly that. I think I was expecting a warrior too. I certainly wasn't expecting someone so young."
"Young? You can't be more than a few years older than I am," he replied indignantly.
"That's probably true."
His eyes turned black and he peered into her soul. There was the touch of divinity, as expected, more Light than Dark, as expected, but the Darkness was surprisingly deep. "I wonder what that means. Is she evil? Angry? Bitter? How weird."
Her eyes turned white and she peered into his soul. There was the touch of divinity, as expected, more Darkness than Light, but she was surprised to find that both were still closely balanced.
"That's not what I was expectin' either," he commented.
"Me neither."
They stared at each other for another few moments.
"How do we get out of this?" he asked.
"We could step back slowly and go on our separate ways," she suggested.
"Or I could start a fight," he countered, mostly to see how she would react.
"I wouldn't."
"I know you wouldn't," he retorted.
"I mean, I wouldn't do that if I were you."
"Why not?"
"We'll soon be set upon by several dozen angry mages. Do you think you're really ready to fight me? And them?" she asked, suddenly worried for the safety of those around them.
"I hadn't thought of that," he replied, with a quick glance at the imposing Arcane Academy. "Alright, we step back slowly. But if we meet again, I'll won't be so nice."
She almost smiled at his clearly half-hearted threat. "Of course. Next time I'll be prepared."
They stepped backwards until they were about forty feet apart.
"Good day," he said, bowing very slightly.
"Good day," she returned. Even though she knew they were on opposing sides, she felt a connection, and a strong desire to apologize for what she knew was inevitable. "For what it's worth to you," she called. "I didn't want this, and I wish we didn't have to fight. I'm really sorry things had to be this way. You don't seem like a bad person."
Surprised by this outburst, he searched her face looking for a sign of deception, but her sentiments seemed genuine. He nodded slightly, feeling a connection to her in an odd way, and understanding her intention. "Yeah, I know. It wasn't my choice either. But we can't argue with the gods."
She sighed. "I know."
They continued to back up until both stepped into side streets. As if on cue, the crowd filled the Square again, and the other was lost from sight.
Eliora leaned against the cool stone wall and breathed deeply. "That wasn't supposed to happen. What are the odds he'd decide to visit the same day I do? I guess there's no help for it now." When she felt calmed down, she called to the iridescents. "Let me know if I'm being followed."
"Yes, Mistress." It bowed and vanished.
She pulled her hood back up and continued on her way to the Arcane Academy.
Donnan stood in an alleyway, still feeling sick at his stomach. "Damn it to darkness! Good gods, what're the odds I'd run into the LightBearer? She's just a girl." He shook his head to clear it. "No, it's too late now. There's no turning back." He called to the darklings. "Follow the LightBearer. D
"Yes, Master," the creature hissed, sounding upset.
When it melted back into the shadows, he continued on his way.
The Arcane Academy was a large three story complex made of gray, black, and white heavy stone. It was only one building, but it branched out in places. The windows on the first floor were small and narrow, but the other floors had normal sized windows set with colored glass mosaics. The Academy was set apart from the rest of the downtown area buildings by a high wall of obsidian glass, and a large pair of metal gates. The glass was strengthened with decades worth of wards. The Academy was one of the few that was not destroyed or closed down after the Mage Wars. Many mages were born in the region, and the denizens had learned long ago that tolerating an Arcane Academy was preferable to the dangerous effects of wild and untrained magic. The school could hold up to three thousand students.
The one word that came to Eliora's mind as she stared at the metal gates was: fortified. She wasn't sure whether that was a result of the Mage Wars, or simply a precaution given the inherent volatile nature of teaching magic. A small wooden guard booth was set up by the gate, and was occupied by pair of bored looking guards.
"Name and purpose, please," one said in Arcana.
"I come under the name of 'Orlice' and I have an appointment with the Principal this morning regarding admission of an older student," she answered. She had given the name of her magical animal companion because the