A Tale of Traitors

Willow: Recovery

          "Enkawa," a gentle voice whispered in my ear as I shot forward. I was in a new home once again, lying on a comfortable brown sofa in a large living room. A fireplace was roaring across from me, and several ancient books were spread upon the table before me. The carpet was elaborately decorated with cherry red, muddy brown, and shimmering gold embroidery. Soft lanterns illuminated the paintings which hung next to each other on the walls, portraying heroes and enemies that passed away several years before. I longed to recall their names, but could not. I stared into the purple eyes of the young girl with the tight blond ponytail whom I had noticed earlier.
"How did you make me sleep against my will?" I asked in annoyance.
"We all have our own magic," her calming voice began. "I am from the fifth tribe in Realm One. Elves can assert power over each other to some extent, but only when it is in the best interest of those involved."
"Are you saying that magic varies between the realms?" I asked, more confused now than ever.
"That's exactly what I am saying." She gracefully placed a thick book in my hands. "You should read this; it explains information that will be helpful to you."
"Thank you," I smiled, flipping through the pages. It was humiliating that I had once been someone so powerful, but could no longer remember the simplest spells. Perhaps my cheeks stung a bit; the girl spoke rapidly after a moment of silence.
"To answer your question, every realm's inhabitants possess their own gifts. The charms of Elves are different from those of dwarfs and vampires, but we do share many of the same spells. Think of magic as a language. A very, very complex language. Now, imagine that the people who speak the same language have been separated for hundreds of years. Those people may develop different dialects, or quicker and advanced words. It's still the same language, but there are many different accents and ways to speak some of those words."
"That makes sense." I gawked at the ornate cover of the gorgeous, gilded book I turned in my hands. Every page was hand written in multiple colors of ink, with pleasing lines and drawings etched in to the margins and between some of the lines. This book could have been the journal of a ferocious sorceress. I continued, "Why did your leader force me to sleep? The last thing I heard was the thud on the roof."
"The assassin is still hunting you, and he possesses a Mindseeker. That's really bad. He has your memories and can use them to locate you, to a certain extent. Your memories hold a part of you in them, and they cry out to be remembered. Our minds are a powerful thing, and I think even human ones have a strange gift of their own."
Don't forget. I shook aside the nagging feeling.
"The others are resting," the girl answered my question before I could ask it.
"Thank you for your help," I smiled and went to shake her hand. "What's your name?"
"Adrianne. It is a pleasure to assist you, Warrior." She bowed before shaking my hand, which I found strange.
"Please, call me Willow."
Her eyes went wide. "But--"
          The doors, which were more like impenetrable barriers that guard castles, creaked open, and Adrianne rose to her feet and ceased to speak. Seeing that I had no chance of recalling proper etiquette, I copied her.
"Warrior!" Syrnafin exclaimed. "I would like to apologize. I know that I have no right to so much as try to help you, and that enchanting you was very inconsiderate. I hope there is some way you can forgive me for this violation of your privacy."
"Oh," I began, "sir, you don't have anything to worry about."
"My shame forever multiplies," Syrnafin answered bitterly as he knelt to his feet. "Warrior, if I may beg of you--"
"Sir, please stand. There is no need to kneel or apologize. You did what you felt to be right, and from what I hear about magic, I am confident that you made the right choice."
A brilliant and contagious smile sprouted from him. "Thank you," he repeated over and over.
"Thank you for saving us all," I responded, attempting not to sound as confused as I was. After a few moments, he said,
"There is breakfast being prepared in the kitchen and should be done in a few minutes. Perhaps Adrie can escort you there in a few moments."
Adrianne nodded, but did not speak.
"Shall we wake your friends, or let them sleep?" Syrnafin asked.
"Let them sleep for a little while longer; it's been a long day." I tried to recall when the last time was that I slept so peacefully, but could not. Even in the safe house where I had met the professor, I constantly woke in the night with frightening dreams and flashbacks of the life I had once lived.
"Certainly," he agreed and turned to leave.
"Sir," I asked shyly.
"Yes, Warrior?"
"Would you remind me of your name?"
"Syrnafin, but everyone here calls me Sy."
"Nice to officially meet you, Sy. My name is Willow."
He smiled and instantly exited.
"Would you mind if I read some of this book?" I asked Adrianne.
She shook her head and moved to a corner of the room to tear into another book.
          I opened to the first page and began to read. I was shocked by my instant absorption and speedy reading. Perhaps I had read a copy of this book sometime in my past. The first section I read was one of mystical beings and fairy-tales that seemed too lifelike to be invented. The first story wrote of a land where peoples of all races and species lived together in harmony; in the lakes and rivers, mermaids called cheerily to the elves who hunted in the forests nearby. Elves of all colors ran alongside centaurs, and children could play without fear of Exterminators. However, nothing is ever perfect, and the story began to turn. This peaceful world was rocked by a series of killings which were driven by hate. Werewolves despised the elves and began to slaughter them. Centaurs and Elves proceeded to fight back, and they drove the werewolves into a lonely mountain. Vampires and Mermaids, creatures completely opposite the other, began to breed and produce offspring that was capable of immense evil--Sirens. Little children were seized and killed by ravenous beasts who had no purpose stirring up evil. Species began to mix, and intelligent individuals invented the language of magic. As with every good thing, there was evil which multiplied to match it. All kinds of magic, good and bad, became common and only brought more danger to the inhabitants of this world. In the conclusion of the story, there seemed to be no hope for the world in which every living thing was free. It foretold the rising of a brilliant sorcerer who would perfect life in the magical world, who would bring complete peace and prosperity to the nation. Then, the story concluded, and I did not comprehend the meaning of what I had read. In the margin on the last page of the short story was scribbled, "1201--seized."
"Adrie," I humbly asked, "what does the first story mean?"
She came over and sat next to me, taking the book and reading the title of the short story: "Call for Salvation."
"Was it a real place?" I immediately asked, questions bubbling up in my head like a roaring fountain.
"Yes, I believe so," Adrie replied, looking up at me. "Some say it was too marvelous or terrible to be true. This story has caused much debate. On one hand, there are those who fight for a place like this. Actually, this story is part of what inspired you, Warrior--I mean, Willow. You believed that we could restore what we lost with this united nation. On the other hand, others argue that this place only brought pain and disgrace. Especially reading about the creation of Sirens and the murders of little kids, one is easily convinced that a place so free is not worth fighting for. But you proposed a new set of laws and how to enforce them, and your followers trust that they will work. Whatever their reasons for following you, they are willing to die for this cause. Tormod has always believed that he was the sorcerer who would bring perfection to the nation; that is why he keeps everyone in their realms and tribes. If anyone steps out of line, he yields no mercy. I suppose this is to maintain order, and--as he sees it--perfection."
"What is this date?" I pointed to the 1201 written at the top.
"The year Tormod took over." She said solemnly.
"It's been over eight-hundred years?" My eyebrows rose and the surprise was evident in my voice. "How can one man live that long?"
"He's a sorcerer," Adrie replied, "and he is extremely powerful. Rumor has it that not even the most deadly magic can be his downfall, since he can counter every spell and has invented a few of his own."
"What was the plan for overthrowing him?" I asked nervously.
"Do you mean the plan you designed?"
"Yes."
Adrie's eyes fell to the floor. "We were hoping you would know."
"What do you mean?" My own heart sank when I beheld how downcast she was.
"You didn't tell anyone except those closest to you, and this was wise. The only problem is that those people have gone into hiding, and we have no way of contacting them. If they're still alive, they may not even know. You are a very distrusting person, and I believe that one day it could be your downfall. You need to trust someone sooner or later. However, your cautiousness has preserved you thus far, and for this I wish to congratulate you." She looked down at the pendant around her neck, which had started to glow. "Sy wishes to invite you to eat breakfast with us. It is ready and the table is set. Let's enjoy our meal before dwelling further on these topics."