Between the Light and the Darkness - Chapter 27

Shirra lay on her bed and stared at the ceiling. She had been crying for hours, and the sadness was starting to ebb. In its place was anger. An anger that started deep within her. An anger that she could feel in every fiber of her being, every cell, every pore.


An anger so consuming that it literally ate the sadness away, repairing the hollow ache in her heart. She lied in its pool, festering, and let it slowly devour her, eating away at her other emotions until it was the only one left.

~*~*~*~*

Tim awoke on a hard stone floor. His head throbbed, and every muscle protested when he tried to move. The back of his head was wet and sticky, and he realized he was bleeding. The room was dark and he didn't know where he was. He knew that he wasn't in the prison, and surmised he must be somewhere in Shirra's dwelling.


If you fail, then she will, too.
He had failed. Ileeya was hurt, and it was all his fault. He cried, feeling remorseful. There was no hope, now. Everything that had happened this past year and a half, everything that led up to this moment was all for naught. The people of this world would be destroyed, save for a few loyal ones. Those loyal would become Shirra's new world and would serve their queen. Shirra would give birth to a son - his son, who would learn how to rule from her, how to be just as ruthless and unforgiving. Jondak would claim Ileeya, and she would wish for death to come quickly, for Jondak was just as ruthless as Shirra.


Finally, the damn burst and the flood came. Tim sobbed uncontrollably. He cried for what seemed like an eternity, remembering every look Ileeya had given to him, what her touch felt like, the sound of her voice...
Go straight to hell, Timothy Mitchell.
And that's exactly where he was.

The ache in his head magnified. His body felt heavy, and he could feel his mind drifting away. A comforting darkness washed over him as he closed his eyes, and his limbs suddenly felt lighter, like they were resting on a cloud or like he was being carried. He let the feeling sweep over him and gave in to it.

~*~*~*~*

Ileeya knew where Tim was upon returning to the empty cell. She knew he was at Shirra's. But she had no clue where that was. For hours, she had tried searching for him, but to no avail. She sensed danger, so palpable it threatened to overwhelm her. She had to find it, she had to find Shirra's home. Tim needed her...

~*~*~*~*

Jondak was walking on air. He couldn't believe his good fortune. He was almost sorry Shirra was in pain, she looked like a frightened child, sobbing in her hands. And he may have felt sorry for her, if she had not been so harsh with him. If she had not denied his needs for so long. If it weren't for her, Tim would have been taken care of shortly after arriving, and Ileeya would already be his.


But now, Ileeya was his. Tim was likely to never come back to the cell again, would be lucky, actually, if he would even live much longer, and Jondak had been given permission to have his way with Ileeya, finally. Not just been given permission, but instructed to hurt her.

He had refrained in the past, because he didn't want to cause a commotion in the prison. It's not that he cared, really, if the guards punished him, but the confinement cells were the worst, and he'd rather not go there.


He didn't really want to hurt Ileeya, at least, not directly for the purpose of hurting someone. At first he wanted to love her. He was capable of love. He was mezmerized by her when he first came here.


He had never seen such beauty, such perfection. None of the women from his village measured up to even a fraction of the loveliness Ileeya possessed.


And he was confident in his ability to woo her, as he was quite adept at persuading young ladies to sleep with him. He had never been turned down, not once. Until Ileeya. She had turned him down repeatedly, but still he did not want to hurt her. He simply tried harder.


That day, long ago, when she had pushed him down, sparked his anger, and the vision he gave her was a manifestation of that anger. He did it as a warning, hoping if he scared her, she would come around. But he was wrong, and his wanting grew.


Looking back, he suspected that the anger grew because he wanted something he couldn't have. And the more he tried to get it, the more it ran away. He finally had to face up to the fact that he was not worthy of her love, and to him, that was not an option. He would succeed. No matter what.

Then Tim arrived. And Shirra followed closely behind. Everything changed. Now he had no choice but to work for her. Normally, he hated that, except for today. Shirra had just given him the message to ready himself for teleportation. He was to be transported to Ileeya's cell, now that she was alone, where he was instructed to do whatever he wanted.

~*~*~*~*

"Gertie. It's my time, isn't it?"

"It can be, if you want it to."

"I failed. Shirra has won. She has Ileeya..."


"Tim, Ileeya is safe, but not for long."

Tim's head snapped up in disbelief.


"She's still at the prison, searching for you."

"But..."


"The girl Shirra hurt was not Ileeya. She was captured by Shirra's servants and brought to her, where Shirra then cast an illusion on her. The real Ileeya is safe, and her mind is reaching for you."


"I must go back!"


"You are very hurt, Tim. Your head is bleeding. I don't know if you'll be able to wake up. But you must try. Shirra has not won, yet. But she will soon unless someone fights."

"Send me back, Gertie!"


Gertie looked at him sadly. "I can't, Tim. I don't have that power. You must be on your own from this point on. I can no longer help you."

"Gertie, please..."

Gertie smiled at him. "You're a big boy, Timmy. You can do this. You are ready, even though you don't think you are. You must wake, now. Despite the pain. We'll meet again someday..."

~*~*~*~*

"Mother, why is magic so bad? Why is it so wrong?"

"Our people are very superstitious. They are afraid of things they don't understand; things they can't control."

"But Shirra was in control of what she did."


"Any witch would want you to believe that, and would want to believe that herself. But how much control does one really have over that kind of power? A power to hurt? A power that can change things? It is an awesome power, and no one being can completely harness it, no matter how strong or confident he is. Magic is dangerous, and therefore shunned. As a warrior people, we don't have need for it, and we'll go to great lengths to rid our village of it."


"Do you really believe Shirra made you sick?"

Her mother looked at her for a moment before answering. "I don't know what I believe. Shirra has been changing for a long time, and has allowed herself to be fooled by the promise of power that magic brings. That power corrupts, and she was becoming corrupt herself. I can't say for certain that she had a hand in what happened, but I can't rule it out, either."


"What do you think will become of Shirra?"

She siged and turned away. "I don't know. Your father was torn. He sent her away because he loved her, he couldn't bear to see her persecuted for her practice of magic. But as he loved her, he also hated her for what she was becoming. Corrupt. I don't even know if your father truly believed that she was the cause of my illness, but it gave him enough of a fright that he wanted to put a stop to her practice. Sit down. I want to tell you a story.


Your great grandmother, Nauri, was a witch. A quite powerful one.


She was never afraid to display her talent openly, often frightening the other townspeople.


She selected your great grandfather, Merillon, to father her child - your grandmother. Merillon was a traveling merchant. He never stayed in one place for long, and soon the time came for him to move on, never even realizing that he had been used to impregnate a witch. I'm sure he had heard the rumors about Nauri, but with her powers she seduced him, then made him forget.


Your grandmother Lainel was born. She was a beauty that took heavily after her father. Sun kissed skin, deep violet eyes.


"When the child grew into a beautiful young girl, she began to notice things about herself. Things that weren't quite normal.


She was able to change the course of the wind just by concentrating on it. She could cause butterflies to land on her arm. Lainel was a good child, pure of heart, and didn't possess the same chaotic streak that was present in her mother.


"Her mother had settled down by now, not practicing as openly, and was at peace with herself. She taught your grandmother about her 'ways', her magic, and was creating her own little witch.


But she cautioned her daughter, she warned her of the dangers she would face should others find out. She made her promise to be careful, and only practice in secret. Your grandmother agreed.








"When Lainel was barely a teen, her mother was killed. The villagers hung her for her witchery. They did not know your grandmother was also a fledgeling witch, and she was careful not to let them know.


Life was difficult for Lainel, having to live on her own since her early teens. She missed her mother terribly.


Years passed, and your grandmother's wounds healed. She met a nice man, your grandfather Arodor, and settled into a domestic life with him.


They gave birth to a son - your father, and they were very happy.

But, villagers will be villagers, and people began to wonder why your grandmother didn't attend the warrior festival. When your father was young, they had no one to look after him so she could attend. But once he came of age, she was always conveniently sick during the festivals. Rumors spread, and people began to look at her differently. They suspected her of witchery, having known about her mother's romance with it.


"Your father tried very hard to look the other way when the townspeople would talk about his mother, sometimes to his face, sometimes behind his back.


But deep down, he knew, though he tried to deny it. He saw things, things she didn't know he saw.


Like a pot on the stovetop that stirred itself, or a garden that flourished despite harsh weather.


He told me how he returned home early one day and saw the kitchen cleaning itself while his mother was reading an odd looking book. An evil looking book, to hear him tell it."


"But not all magic is bad, right? Grandmother wasn't corrupt, she didn't use it for bad things, did she?"

"Not directly. Not like her own mother. But use of magic, itself, is evil, whether you use it to stir your pots for you, or kill someone. It weakens the constitution, makes one become soft. If you spend hours studying magic, how will you have the strength to lift a sword?"


"But couldn't a magician just swing the sword with their magic? Or fight some other way?"

"That would not be the way of the warrior. Magicians are cowards. They hide behind their magic because they lack the strength and spirit to fight like a warrior."

"If father knew that grandma was a witch, why did he let us spend time with her during the festivals?"


"Your father loved his mother very much. She begged him to let her see her grandchildren. He refused many times, but her sad eyes ate away at his soul, and he eventually gave in. But after he found out about Shirra's interest in magic, he regretted it. He blamed himself. That's why you were no longer able to visit granny, and why father forbade Shirra to practice magic.

Now, it is late. I do believe your father wants to squeeze a couple of hours of practice in before heading to town in the morning. He told me that handsome lad, Malir, asked after you again."


At the mention of Malir's name, Ileeya's heart flipped in her chest. He had asked after her! It was only recently she had started to notice him as more than a childhood friend.


She couldn't get his light green eyes out of her head, and the way his golden hair fell over his beautiful face. Without further comment, she rushed to bed, where the conversation with her mother about magic, witches, and persecution fled from her memory and was replaced by the image of Malir's golden skinned hands caressing her own.


Ileeya woke suddenly to the sound of the cell door shutting. She had fallen asleep searching for Tim. She got up and stretched her cramped muscles, then took a long drink of water. She had no interest in the dried meat that had just been placed inside.


She knocked on the cell door. Aark nodded silently, and escorted her to the King's conference room.


She paced the room, waiting for the king and his advisors to arrive. She was nearly sick to her stomach with fear, as it seemed like things were unravelling at a startlingly quick pace. She would not allow her sister to win this.


She must not! Shirra had already taken too many things from her, she would not allow her to take Tim as well. When she was done warning the king that he must ready for a fight, she would go back to her cell and try finding Tim again. She had to find him.