Prologue
Queen Ralena gazed out over the Redcap Sea as she did every single day, standing on the wide balcony connected to her throne room. A month ago, the red waters below had been tumultuous, and she had spoken grim words to her advisor and friend, Felris, that now seemed prophetic, warning that the storm that had loomed on the horizon was something far worse than mere bad weather. But looking back, the terrible lightning that had wreaked havoc across half the continent that very same day was nothing compared to the devastation that had followed a few nights later. The Redcap Sea, so named because of its natural crimson hue, was now sanguine for more grisly reasons. Where the wind once carried the scent of salt and the exotic plants of her extensive gardens, it now wafted the faint, putrid stench of rotting fish carcasses and bloated corpses that barely resembled humans anymore after a month in the ocean.
“I do wish you would not tempt fate, My Queen,” said a familiar and concerned voice from the balcony’s entryway. “Talyn has seen enough death and ruin already without her Queen plunging into the sea on a crumbling balcony.” Ralena pushed away from the stone railing in acquiescence and turned to face her advisor. His face had gained a few more weary lines in one short month; but then, so had hers. Though still gracefully handsome, the Queen had aged more in that brief span than she had in the past ten years, it seemed.
“The quakes already took my gardens,” Ralena responded mirthlessly. “I’ll be damned if they take my balcony, too.”
“Somehow I doubt that they would ask your permission first,” Felris quipped mildly, hands clasped primly behind his back. Ralena smiled and relented, walking back inside. Her shoes clapped against the marble floor, the sound echoing hollowly in the chamber. The noise was no different than it had ever been, and yet now seemed an empty, somber sound.
“You sent for the girl?” The Queen took her place on the throne while Felris paused at the foot of the few steps leading up to it. Her advisor nodded.
“She should be arriving shortly. Odd that the answers to our many questions should be coming from an elf barely out of adolescence.”
“In my experience,” the Queen began contemplatively, “answers often come from the most unlikely of places. I just hope she does not spout the same nonsense as these doomsayers flocking in my streets.”
A knock came from the great doors ahead and one of her guards stepped in, looking oddly nervous. Ralena motioned for him to speak.
“My Queen,” he began with a short bow, “the young woman who requested an audience has arrived.”
“Good, send her in.”
The guard paused, still appearing uncomfortable. The Queen arched an eyebrow.
“Is there something else?” she asked impatiently.
“Yes, My Lady. She has…odd company that she wishes allowed in with her. She is rather adamant, actually. I told her it was in no way--”
“What kind of company?” Ralena cut him off, her impatience curbed by curiosity.
“A…panther, My Queen. A big one.”
Ralena and Felris exchanged surprised glances. No wonder the guard looked so nervous.
“Well, let her in. Her panther, too.”
The guard blanched. “My Lady, I must insist that the cat remain outside. The risk--”
“Is nonexistent, thank you very much,” a new voice interrupted haughtily, pushing past the shocked guard. He moved to intercept the elf, but froze as the large cat in question sauntered in after her, passing between them and casting him a bland glance. Felris looked utterly flabbergasted by the breach of etiquette, not to mention the furry behemoth entering the throne room, but Ralena simply smiled at the elf girl’s fiery spirit.
“Young lady,” Felris stuttered, chagrined, “that is terribly inappropriate--”
“Leave her be,” Queen Ralena interjected peaceably, rising from her seat. “If she truly has answers for us, a small breach of decorum is dismissible.” Ralena waved the young elf forward, and the flustered guard bowed once more and left the room. The black feline settled herself rather comfortably in front of one of the other guards posted within the chamber, who, to his credit, remained still as a statue as the great cat began grooming herself a mere foot away.
“Forgive my rudeness, Your Majesty,” the woman stated with a bow, seeming sincere and suddenly humble. “I simply wish to deliver my news and move on. I have many more stops to make.” Ralena nodded and sat once more.
“So,” the Queen began, her tone darkening, “I am told that you know why half my city and hundreds of its people now lie at the bottom of the sea. Is this true, Miss…?”
“You may call me Ginger, Your Majesty, and yes, it is true.”
“Then explain, Ginger.”
In the plains roughly 200 miles outside the city of Dornhaven...
“Damn it.”
Draedyn cast a glance across the fire, eyebrow raised askance. “What is it now, Rongar?” she asked wryly, watching the dwarf as he practically twitched with irritation, sitting on a boulder with his axe draped across his knees.
“’What is it?’” he echoed huffily. “’What isn’t it’ is a better question. Been waltzing around for two damned weeks waiting for yer damned mythical Guardian to give us some damned answers. No damn clue what the source of yer damned corruption is; we’re just wandering about helping damned disheveled villagers and their damned mothers while yer blasted land continues to fall apart beneath yer feet.”
Draedyn tried to hide her amused smile as she waited patiently for her newest companion to finish his rant, and for a moment it seemed he had. He fell quiet, staring grumpily at the fire, fiddling with his weapon.
“And yer damned elves annoy me,” he burst out, leaping to his feet and starting to pace, axe in hand. It was a two-handed weapon, but the barrel-chested, tough-as-nails dwarf carried it with ease in one huge bear-like paw.
Draedyn glanced at Sajreth, seated beside her, and chuckled quietly.
He wasn’t wrong, though. A month had passed since the Collapse, and still they had not been enlightened by the Guardians concerning the possible cause of all this madness. Tressa, not Rymnalynne, had appeared to them twice in the first two weeks before Rongar had joined them. She had come at the Guardian of the Wild’s behest, she said, to ensure that they had not fallen prey to the dreadful Collapse. Rymnalynne, she said, was searching desperately for her twin, but neither hide nor hair could be found of the corrupted Guardian responsible for the catastrophe. Tressa spoke little and was disinclined to give any answers to the mortals when questioned about her knowledge, but did acquiesce when Draedyn pleaded with her to check on her home town and elven clan. Tressa’s second appearance was short, merely informing the companions that Irys and the elves of Sterling Wood had been spared any further damage. It was a major relief for Draedyn, and she had felt a bit lighter since the news.
Still, Rongar voiced what they all felt. Tressa, they knew, was holding out on them, Tervyneern did not have the convenience of teleportation like his siblings and so they heard nothing from him, Rymnalynne was gone, Mavellynne was corrupted and Dessos was still a complete mystery. The Guardians, it seemed, would be of far less help than the group had hoped.
Ginger and her panther, Onyx, had left shortly after the Collapse to spread word to each city about what was happening--as much as they knew, anyway. Catherine had gone with her, but they had intended to separate in order to cover ground and spread the news faster. How their claims would be received was anyone’s guess; many would likely think them more insane than the doomsayers cropping up everywhere, proclaiming the end of the world.
“Rymnalynne will come to us soon,” Draedyn assured the dwarf, though she wasn’t sure she believed her own words. “We are meant to help stop whatever this is, not sit idly by. I trust Rymnalynne; she’ll help us.”
“Bah,” Rongar snorted, dropping back down onto the boulder and waving a dismissive hand. “You can trust in yer magical stag; I’ll trust in my own good sense, thank ye.”
“And what does your ‘good sense’ tell you?” Draedyn challenged. Rongar snorted again.
“That these refugees stink.”
“I believe that’s yourself that you’re smelling, dwarf.”
Rongar glared at the grinning woman, raised a beefy arm and sniffed his armpit. He shrugged.
The companions were camped with a large group of refugees from a town decimated by the quakes. They, like many, were headed to Dornhaven in spite of the rumors regarding its King, and paying the Chosen a meager amount for protection along part of their journey, as well as sharing their food. They would have preferred Talyn, they said somberly, but it was well known by now that half the city had been destroyed by the Collapse. Queen Ralena and her people were likely going to be forced from the city--by the tremors that still shook the land if not by King Lornas Dorn XII himself.
Draedyn looked at the stars, fading as the sun continued its slow crawl over the horizon. Her home, she lamented silently, was rapidly falling into ruin. What would be left of it when this was all over, she wondered?
Bookmarks