The Elder's Path (18 page)

Another voice spoke, this one sounding like a child
. "I can smell the Voidwolf on you. I wondered if he made it through the ages." Another laugh.

Lyn's jaw began to tremble, and she yelled out with a confidence she certainly did not feel, "The Voidwolf has tracked you here. This will be the end of you Umbra, so have your
fun while you can. It'll be over for you soon!"

There was a hiss, and silence returned.

"It won't ever be over for me, Lyn," said the voice of an old man. "You see, you may know my name, but despite what you think you do not know what I am."

Lyn felt a
hot breath on her neck, and she turned with a violent sweep of her arm.  Of course, there was nothing behind her, and she watched in disgust as her knife turned to black goo and slid out of her hand.

"You are powerless here," an otherworldly voice said to
her from the empty corners of the room. "You are in my realm now, and I can see right through you. I am not like your Voidwolf, Lyn. I am something much more. You will come to understand, and once you do, you will be mine."

Lyn gasped and sat up in her b
ed once more. Alir cried out to her in concern, feeling the waves of her fear washing over her. She quickly dressed and was on her way to request water for a bath when she literally ran in to Siege. She grunted, looking up at him as he turned around to face her.

"Lyn
," he said, as though he was surprised to see her. "I did not think you were up. My search continues; I must away to find Ren. I know he is here somewhere."

Lyn's mouth turned down into a frown as she pushed her way past him. "I slept fine, by
the way," she said haughtily. She knew she was being unfair but she couldn't bring herself to admit it, and she was so tired.

Siege cocked his head at her and
scratched at his stubbled jaw. Clearly not understanding the situation, he decided to extricate himself from it. With a shrug, he turned back to what he was doing and prepared to leave once more. Lyn shook her head, upset that he didn't understand she needed comfort, but more upset at herself for needing it and lashing out so.

The day was spent in a
rather dull fashion. Lyn refused to go back out of town where she knew Marcho was waiting, and she didn't want to try and find Siege. She just wanted to be by herself and have some time to contemplate. Or sulk, the line between the two at this point was blurred.

She sent Alir out to hunt and fly, and she took a long bath to try to ease her stress. After her soak, she idled about and generally felt sorry for herself.

Around lunchtime, she decided she was being pathetic and set about doing something useful. Alas, nothing particularly struck her mood so she ended up ordering drinks at the bar. By the time Siege, crestfallen, made his way back to the inn, Lyn was well in to her drink. He stopped, doing a double-take on his way up the stairs. Pushing his way past a small group of men that had been gathering around the young Druid, Siege looked down on her in what appeared to be disgust.

"What are you doing?" h
e asked in a low, threatening voice.

Lyn looked up to him and
obstinately replied, "What does it look like I'm doing, oaf? I'm having a drink. People of age do that on occasion. How old are you anyway?" Her speech was only slightly slurred, but it seemed to rub her blonde friend the wrong way.

"Old enough to have more purpose than drinking my time away.
We can have this conversation upstairs. Come." He reached out a hand to her and punctuated the last phrase like an order. While logical Lyn probably understood that Siege was just trying to look out for her, inebriated Lyn did not respond well at all to orders and decided it would be the perfect time to make that abundantly clear to all. She did this by downing the remainder of her drink as well as the drink of the nearest patron, and standing up face to face with Siege. It would have been face to face at least, except Siege stood two heads taller than her, and he was not amused.

"Barkeep," Lyn said defiantly. "Another, if you please." In truth, Lyn did not particularly want another, but it had become a matter of principle.

"She'll be fine with what she has had, thank you," Siege said to the poor man behind the bar, never taking his eyes from Lyn. She had always loved those eyes; their steely blue gaze had sent her stomach aflutter since she had first seen them. Even now, with obvious anger within them, she found herself inexorably drawn. She brought herself closer to him, until she could feel his exhaled breath.

"What, you're mad now? You want to take me upstairs for a good talking to?" She was trying to sound sultry, and perhaps in her mind she did. Siege
, however, found nothing appealing about the situation or her part in it.

Through gritted teeth he said slowly, "You are trying my patience, girl."

Lyn smiled; she was getting the rise out of him that she had hoped for. Had she but told Siege of her night terrors, and the dread she experienced at the thought of having to return to them alone, perhaps things would have been different. Had the fiery Skyehart taken a moment to consider the out of sorts behavior, perhaps he would have been more inclined to help the girl and such a scene would not have been necessary. Alas, the two were too similar in that they were both too stubborn for their own good, and too accustomed to their own company to effectively reach out to one another.

With a fast motion that bel
ied his armored frame, Siege swooped Lyn up, slung her over his shoulders like a bag of goods and carried her kicking and screaming up the stairs to her room.

He dropped her roughly on her bed and did an abrupt about face. "Sleep it
off, we'll talk in the morning." he said sternly over his shoulder. The light from the doorway made him in to a silhouette, and for a moment Lyn thought to call him back, to have him sit with her. But he exited into the hallway and shut the door, taking the light away with him.

It was not long before Lyn found herse
lf staring at the ceiling again, alone in her darkened room. She felt clear and awake. She remembered vaguely that she had gone to bed drinking, so she assumed that she was once again in the nightmare that Umbra had created for her. Sure enough, a telltale creak came to the door and knocked softly before moving away. Lyn's heart felt like a cold hand was clenching at it; she did not want to face the demon, but knew she had no choice if she wished to escape.

She slowl
y climbed out of bed, not bothering to grab her dream knife or dream equipment. She didn't even bother to dress in the dream version of her clothes that Umbra had painstakingly created. In her underclothes, she stepped into the empty hallway and looked about, hoping deep inside herself that somehow this time would be different. It was not, and Lyn was not surprised.

With a resigned sigh, she turned to go down the stairs to her inevitable meeting with the demon Umbra. She took a deep breath, trying to relax
herself, but fear gripped her tight and she could draw no comfort. She stepped down the stairs in to the darkened room where she observed that the chairs were upside down on the tables, the bar was cleaned and all the dishes put away as though it had been just after a regular night of business. Lyn thought one of the most disturbing things about the dream sequence was the mundane nature of it. The familiar and otherwise comfortable setting was twisted into a demented stage for Umbra's performance. The ordinary nature of the inn somehow made Umbra more real and insidious. She felt tears come to her eyes, but she blinked them away.

"Welcome back," a rough voice whispered into her ear. She shivered in disgust and waved her hand as if to swat away a bug. "Are y
ou ready for the next piece of the story?" Another dark laugh emanated from the empty room and Lyn felt it resound within her, shaking her to her core. "You have named me Umbra, Lyn World-Walker, but that is but a title. A word put to a formless element."

A rushing sound swept past her, as if a great wind had just blown by. From all around, yet sounding as though it came from a distance, the voice continued in the pitch and tone of a heavily accented man. "What I truly am is so much more. I am the darkness
in the heart of all men. I am the doubt and fear and hidden desire that linger in every human person. I am the black to the white, the unconscious right under the surface. I am the feeling that you get when you look over an edge and suddenly wish to jump."

Another laugh, coming from one of the corners. A woman's husky voice whispered lustily
, "I am everything you hate about yourself, and all the weakness of the world."

"So you're saying you're everywhere, and everyone, is that it?"

"Yes," a raspy voice hissed, "exactly. As long as there is a single man, woman, or child left in this world I will exist. I am immortal, eternal, a very truth of your reality."

"I doubt that very much, Umbra,
" Lyn said shakily. "I am not a part of your demented legacy, and neither are any that I know."

"Are you so sure?" A familiar voice spoke, and from the dark space in the room a shape formed from smoke and inky shadow into a silhouette of a short, stocky man with a wild beard. Red eyes opened, and the ephemeral black face
split into a wet grin.

"Yusef," Lyn breathed, her heart pounding
fiercely.

"And I," a
n accented voice spoke from the bar. Lyn quickly turned to see a shadowed form of Zhiva leaning against it, his arms crossed. His smoky silhouette shifted as he turned to look at her, and his eyes were glowing embers in the slick darkness of his face.

"Don't forget about us!"
cried a myriad of voices, and Lyn spun to see the swirling forms of Alir, Satora, Nana, Thom, and Lyn's own mother. Lyn choked back a sob, stumbling backwards. Her back touched something cold and solid as a steel wall. An armored hand came to rest on her shoulder, and she let out a breath of relief.

"You see," Siege's voice said behind her, and Lyn turned slowly to see a writhing mass of shadow vagu
ely in the form of her friend Siege. His red eyes blazed and pierced through her; when he spoke, tendrils of smoke and darkness leaked from his mouth. "We are all shadows of the world. We are all in this together."

Lyn screamed, pushing through the shade.
It parted to her touch and dissipated, but behind it stood one more of Umbra's puppets; this one in the very likeness of Lyn herself. She stood sickened and fascinated as the puppet Lyn walked towards her, her movement likened to a hunting cat.

"I don't
understand, why me?"

"Because," her shade replied, reaching out with a finger to brush against Lyn's face. "You are the only unknown factor here. The Skyehart boy is here for his brother. The demon is here for me. But you remain a mystery, and you smell o
f old magic." The shadow Lyn brought herself close and breathed on her neck. Lyn struck out once again and the figure dissipated. Dark laughter echoed through the empty room, and Lyn woke up yelling.

Mornings after her nightmares always left Lyn groggy an
d exhausted. After waking up in a fit, she calmed herself and requested water for another bath.

To her surprise, Siege was still present at the inn, and looked over at her abashedly as she came down the stairs.
"Lyn, how are you feeling?"

S
he simply groaned and returned upstairs for her bath. Putting a warm cloth over her face, she sank down in to the tub and nodded off. She woke later, not knowing when in the day it was, but her water was cold. She got out, dressed, and went downstairs for food.

A meal
and a nap had made her feel much more like herself, so she decided to go back outside for a while. Alir gladly joined her and the two made their way out into the few trees. Lyn found a somewhat dry place to sit, Alir took to the sky. The two spent some time sharing consciousness and strengthening their bond in the cold breeze, which felt good against Lyn's skin. When Lyn opened her eyes again, she was stiff; she stood slowly and stretched, enjoying the fresh air and sounds of birds in the trees. Alir continued on to hunt, so Lyn had some time to herself.

That time was short lived, however, as Marcho appeared from behind a tree. He sat watching her with his three crimson eyes, which were particularly
off-putting to Lyn this time around.

"Good day, Marcho,
" Lyn said.

The great wolf nodded to her.

"You know that Umbra has been visiting my dreams, I assume?"

"Yes."

Lyn sighed and chewed her lip. "How much longer will this go on?"

"Unknown. Umbra has its own motivations, there is no telling when it will deci
de it has achieved them."

"Umbra has been sp
eaking to me. Telling me things… “Lyn said slowly, not sure how Marcho would react. She remembered that Marcho had said that Umbra had a way of twisting and manipulating things, but other than a deep and true fear the likes of which she had never experienced before, she didn't feel manipulated.

"Yes
," Marcho said.

Lyn rolled her eyes and continued, "Is it telling the truth?"

Marcho took a moment before he responded. "Truth can be relative. It has not lied."