Gone

Standing at the entrance to the Tunnels, Mira took the map from her pocket and examined it. It seemed to indicate straight ahead, but steep rock walls rose four hundred feet high on all sides. She remembered what the Healer had said about the difficulty of the journey and felt a sinking sensation in her stomach. Her resolve quailed at the wall before her, but she thought of soaring through the sky in the clear, fresh air of the Above, and her determination strengthened. She put the map back into her pocket, stepped up to the wall in front of her, and began to climb.

  The minutes dragged by, each second a greater agony than the last, but at long last, Mira looked up and saw a ledge just a few feet above. Her body screamed for relief, but her fingers clung stubbornly to the rock face. Just a couple more feet, she urged herself, locking her eyes on the ledge directly above her. A drop of sweat fell into her eye, and, groping half-blinded along the wall above her, she managed to latch her fingers onto the ledge she sought so desperately. With every inch of her body aching and straining, she heaved herself upward and rolled onto solid ground.

She felt no euphoria, no sense of deliverance, only pitiful and wretched. Flight would have been so easy…earth-bound cripple that she was, she had no place in the sky. The huddled, hurting lump, that lay helpless and broken on the cliff’s ledge simply could not be her, Mira.

  A wind, cold and sharp, began to blow. Its icy spears had no regard for Mira’s clothes or skin, cutting straight through to her heart. If only she could summon a fire…not a large one, just a flame small enough to hold in her hand. It could not be that she was so broken that a task as meager as that was beyond her. She had to try; she had to be sure. She closed her eyes and reached out to the magic, willing something, anything to happen. She reached out to the fire. Her hands, spread wide, palms up, began to shake.    Her fingers tingled with the emptiness. Her mind ached with it. Her heart screamed with it. She let her hands drop and collapsed back into a heap. There was no one to witness her shame as hot tears slipped from the edges of her eyes and then froze in the biting slap of the wind. The key around her neck felt heavy with what seemed a false hope. She pulled it off her neck, set it down beside her, and placed it, along with her map, under a rock. The last of her strength left her, and Mira felt the world fade and sleep’s warm numbness embrace her.

  A light brush of air and a soft clink of metal woke Mira with a start. She sat bolt upright and saw immediately what had caused the disturbance. A dwarf, not much taller than herself, was creeping away with a decidedly guilty gait, clutching her map and key to his chest.

  “Hey! Give that back!”

  The dwarf froze, then turned around, shuffled over, and handed her the objects regretfully. Mira glared and watched him carefully as he sat down on a rock not so far away. He looked so lonely and forlorn Mira couldn’t help but soften slightly. “What’s your name?”

  “Nyx.”

  “I’m Mira. What’re you doing here? I didn’t think dwarves ever came out of their tunnels except for trade, and never for stealing.”

  “I’m just…well…I’ve been banished.”

  A feeling, so alien to the whirlwind of grief and anger that had possessed her for the past day, wormed its way into her heart. It took her a moment to realize she was feeling sorry for the dwarf. “Why?”

  “Uhh...maybe later. What’re you doing here? Seems an odd place for a little gnomeling like yourself.”

  “I’m traveling to the elves to get my magic back.”

  “Elves? Really? Mysterious bunch, they are. How’d you lose your magic?”

  “An accident.”

  Nyx sat with an expectant silence. Mira reluctantly elaborated. “There was a mining incident at school. Our tunnel collapsed and my magic went into overdrive saving me from the impact. It exhausted itself in the effort. It’s gone.”

  “Undergrounders like gnomes and dwarves die in tunnel collapses all the time. It could’ve been worse.”

  “It can always be worse,” Mira said shortly, “That doesn’t make it any better.”

  Nyx said nothing. Silence stretched on for several seconds. Finally, Mira said, “You never told me why you were banished.”

  “What? Oh…” Nyx shifted uncomfortably, “I set my village on fire…by accident, of course. There was a dragon involved.”

  “How long has it been?”

  “Seven years.”

  “Why did you want my key?”

  Nyx looked up, the guilty look returning. “I’m really sorry about that, but my clan has a special fondness for rare stones. My chief collects them.”

  He hesitated, then asked timidly. “Can I go with you to the elves? I might be able to help you get there faster, and it’d be nice to do something for a change.”

  Mira hesitated. She had so far borne this burden alone, and it seemed that if she shared it with another, she would lose control over her already uncertain path. Then she looked at Nyx, who looked back at her with the first signs of hope she had seen in his face, and she felt a sudden desire to protect this lost and wandering dwarf. “Alright. You can come.”

  She got to her feet and turned to the cliff edge, but Nyx called her back. “Don’t tell me you’re thinking about going that way.”

  Mira looked around, confused.

  “I’ve got a much easier route.” Nyx drew a white stone from his pocket and pressed it to the wall; a long corridor appeared, lit by glowing white lines etched in the stone to reveal a long, hidden corridor.

  Nyx bowed and stepped back. “After you.”

  Mira could only nod her thanks and step into the passage.

  They trekked in silence until they reached what appeared to be a dead end. Nyx pressed his stone to the wall, which dissolved at his touch. The pair walked through the opening to find themselves in a deep valley with sloping rock on either side.

Nyx nudged Mira and pointed. Mira started as she realized that an elf, unmistakable from his height and haughty expression, stood perfectly still not a dozen paces away.

  His eyes swept over Mira and landed sharply on the key around her neck. He beckoned their approach, but when they began to move toward him hesitantly, the elf held out a hand. “The dwarf stays here.”

  “What?” exclaimed Mira. “Why? I—”

  “One key, one entrant,” the elf interrupted firmly.

  “It’s okay,” Nyx said quickly before Mira could respond. “I’ll be here when you get back.”

  Mira hesitated, still uncertain. “Go on,” Nyx urged her. “When you get back, you can show me all those fancy flying tricks I’ve heard about.”

  Mira couldn’t help but smile and followed the elf through the door.

  He led her through a series of tunnels. Suddenly, they turned a corner, and Mira let out an involuntary gasp.

  Every inch of the enormous cavern was covered in glowing quartz. The stone gleamed as brightly as the stars themselves, and Mira felt she could have been content to stay in that cavern forever, gazing up at the distant ceiling, losing herself in that wondrous glow.

  A loud cough brought her back to earth. “Queen Ademeta, the gnome Mira Hearthstone desires an audience with you.”

  Mira turned to see the leopard had morphed into his elf form, and stood straight and alert. She didn’t ask how he knew what she needed or what had happened.

  Looking back to the other end of the hall, she realized she and the elf were not alone. At the far end, there stood a woman. She stroked the stone gently and cocked her head, as if communing with it. Hearing the elf’s voice, she looked up and walked towards them. As she came closer Mira saw the wrists of her long, brown dress were embroidered with gold wings identical to the ones on Mira’s key. She wore no crown, but Mira felt quiet authority radiate from her as if the stones of the hall itself had given her their allegiance.

  “Thank you, Quildor. You may go.”

  The elf bowed respectfully and melted away into the shadows.

  “So, Mira, I understand you want your magic back.”

  Mira could only nod. The queen began to pace back and forth. “You may be unaware of our current situation. Our magic is, for lack of a better word…failing.

  “Our main source of magic flows from a living creature, not a creature of flesh and blood but of essence, of spirit. It reaches us from both our hearts and the hall you just saw. Our link with this creature, the Tillquire, is splintering.

  “For some unknown reason, we believe it is withdrawing from the hall it has so long occupied. Countless of our strongest Elves have tried to coax him back, with near-disastrous results. In the encounter, the Tillquire absorbed the magic within them, the magic in their hearts. The injury almost killed them, and they are still without magic, too weak to even stand.” The Queen stopped pacing.    “But you, you have no magic for the Tillquire to hurt you with. You can face it without fear of death or injury.”

  “I would grant you your magic if I could, regardless of your aid or lack thereof. I would subject no creature on earth to be cursed with such pain, but without the external source of magic provided by the Tillquire, I cannot heal your gift. Imparting to you the magic within me would destroy us both.”

  “What if I fail?” Asked Mira quietly.

  The queen’s voice was gentle as she said, “You will not. No one can understand magic more than someone who has lost it.”

  Mira remained silent again. She could return home, broken forever, or she could risk her life for a chance to put herself back together. In her heart, she knew she had made her choice the moment she set out from the Tunnels; she would do whatever it took, fight through any pain, any obstacle to be able to fly again. 

  Sighing, she said, “I’ll do it.”

  The queen smiled. “Touch the wall.”

  Mira obeyed. Instantly the room disappeared, and she felt her feet disconnect with the floor. A voice spoke softly out of a great, endless void. What creature dares disturb my rest?

  Upon processing the words, Mira realized she couldn’t hear the voice, but rather felt it in her heart and mind, though she couldn’t quite distinguish her body from the great emptiness that surrounded and engulfed her.

  You are not a Shifter. What are you? I cannot tell…your magic feels different…

  I’m a gnome. Mira answered. My magic is broken.

  You come on behalf of the Elves. They have sent you here to order me to return to them, to return their magic to them.

  Yes. Will you?

  I have served them faithfully for over six millennia. I am tired. The rest of my kind have moved on to another world, and I am left alone..

  I need you, and they need you. If I could free you without hurting the Elves, I would do it, but I don’t see any way.

  Fear makes the Elves cling to me so tightly. When I first began serving them, their innate magic was stronger. Over time, they grew too dependent on me, and their magic weakened from neglect. They can recover…in time…farewell, gnomeling.

  Wait! Mira cried out. Please! Heal my magic!

  But it was too late. She could feel the tendrils of the Tillquire dissolving around her, and she thought she sensed a soft exhale of breath and a sigh of contentment. The quartz hall materialized around her, and her feet reconnected with the floor.

  She saw the queen slumped against the wall, a sickly grey hue about her face.

  “Your Majesty…I’m so sorry…”

  The queen seemed to be regaining control of herself, and climbed unsteadily to her feet. “He’s gone…I never thought he would actually go…of his own free will. What made it now? Why not before? Why not later?”

  “Six thousand years is a long time to be alone, Your Majesty. He’s free, and if it comes at a cost, that’s his choice, not ours.”

  “Perhaps. You, at any rate, will not suffer said cost.”

  “I…I will. He didn’t heal my magic. I’ll look somewhere else for it, but I don’t see any way I’ll ever fly again, except on someone else’s wings.”

  The queen smiled. “Look.”

  Staring into the reflective surface of the cavern walls, Mira saw a pair of glossy, grey wings stretching from her shoulders to her ankles. She flapped them. It felt as natural as moving her arm. But still… “How am I supposed to fly with these? I’ll fall. He could have just as easily given me my real magic back. Why didn’t he?”

  “One does not dismiss a gift from the Tillquire lightly. Those wings may one day serve you better than any purely magical gift ever could.”

  “Will you be all right, Your Majesty?”

  The queen sighed. “It will not be easy, and it will not be soon, but my people will recover. And who knows? Perhaps this is simply the dawn of a brighter age for our race.”

  “I hope so, Your Majesty.”

  “Farewell, Mira Hearthstone. Good luck with those beautiful new wings of yours.”

  “Thank you. Good luck to you and your people.” Mira curtsied awkwardly and hurried out of the hall, nearly tripping over the ends of her wings.

  Quildor met her outside the hall, and though he was slightly paler than before, his face was set and he led her quite steadily out of the tunnels to where Nyx sat on the hill.

  Nyx jumped up when he saw them. “Did you…” He began excitedly, but trailed off when he saw Mira’s wings. He stared, openmouthed, in astonishment as Mira opened them wide and flapped them.

  “You’ve got…you’ve got…is that normal?”

  Mira shook her head. “A special gift from the Tillquire.” Seeing Nyx’s look of bewilderment, she said, “I’ll explain. Let’s sit down.”

  Nyx finished feeding the fire and sat back. They sat in silence for a while, enjoying the still of the night and the reassurance of each other’s company. Finally Mira asked, “When are you going to go back to your clan? I know they miss you. If they don’t, that’s their loss, not yours.”

  Nyx continued to stare into the fire for a full ten minutes. Finally, he looked up. “When I go back…will you come?”

  Mira smiled. “I’d love to.”

  Nyx nodded solemnly, then perked up, “So, how about you try those lovely new wings of yours?”

  Sighing, Mira got to her feet. She took a deep breath, opened her wings, and beat them as hard as she could. Her feet rose a few inches off the ground. Flapping hard, she rose another inch. Nyx watched her carefully. Mira strained and fought, struggling to stay aloft. Her wing muscles quivered, then shook, and she collapsed back down to earth.

  “You can’t expect to break records your first day out,” said Nyx consolingly. “And hey – it’s better than I can do!”

  Mira ignored him, biting down her frustration. She opened her wings, and tried again. She barely reached two inches before collapsing to the ground again.

  “I’m sure you’re doing better than most people,” said Nyx.

  Mira sighed, then said, “Nyx…it’s not that I don’t appreciate the support—I really do—but this is something I have to work out on my own.”

  Nyx met her eyes and nodded, understanding.

  Mira brushed the sweat from her face and tried again.

  Two months later, Mira opened her wings and took to the skies. Her wings rent the still night air and sent tiny whirlwinds spinning in her wake. She swooped low over a field of tall grass, letting the blades tickle her face and arms, her laugh lost to the wind. She soared high up into the heavens, pushing to greater and greater heights, until the air grew too thin to breath. She dipped back down and began to chase a herd of antelope. Dodging lithely between the creatures’ dancing antlers, she soon outstripped the herd. She slowed and breathed deeply, feeling her heart beat joyfully through every inch of her body.

  A flash of red caught her eye. A fairy darted nimbly passed her on tiny, scarlet wings. She laughed a tinkling little laugh and flitted away teasingly. Tearing herself away from her meditations, Mira flapped her wings and darted after her. The tiny fairy was soon lost to the darkness of the night, but Mira flapped on, savoring the joy each beat of her wings brought her.

  At long last, after hours of flying, her wings began to tire, but Mira pushed on, relishing the pain as her wings fought to keep her aloft, even as exhaustion pulled her down. The pain that made her feel alive. The joy of flight urged her on till dawn’s pink light shone in warning of the coming day. Mira sighed, beat her wings once more, and began her descent to earth.