A. C. Rosenfeld

A priestess was alone in the shrine. The building itself was simple – a smaller version of the temples in larger cities. She stood in the middle of the shrine, in front of one of the largest tree stumps Vega had ever seen. She wore a long, white dress cinched in the middle by a leather belt, as well as a grey, woolen cloak. She smiled at the four travelers as they entered and beckoned for Vega to step forward.  

But she didn’t move. Even with Terragon’s finger pressing her against the small of her back, she stood still. When she spoke, her voice trembled, “I do not like being kept in the dark. Not by anyone, especially those who would call themselves my enemies. You will all explain yourselves before I do anything.”

The priestess continued to smile. Terragon was the one to respond, “Francis told me about your conversation with him, Vega. You spoke of magma and of the cycles of the earth in a way that no unnatural mage does. That pull you felt wasn’t to the magma, it was to the mountain.”

“Don’t lie to me.” Vega pushed away from the trio of fools and towards one of the walls of the shrine. “You just want to thrust even more of the responsibility of my mistake onto me. I know what I did was wrong!” She lifted what was left of her right arm and cried, “I will pay for it for the rest of my life!”

Her words bounced across the shrine. Once the echo had faded, the priestess said, “They could always be wrong, Vega. Prove them wrong. Offer your right arm to the earthen energy.”

“What?” the mage gasped out. “What do you mean?”

The priestess held out a hand to her. Against her better judgment, Vega stepped forward and took it. There wasn’t a real reason why she did, other than a desire to end this foolery. Her hand was smooth and warm. The priestess led her to the tree stump and gestured for Vega to kneel. 

She looked back at the trio of fools behind her. Terragon was trying to hide a smile, while Francis and Antonia were unable to mask their worry. The swordsman could finally look her in the eye, now that he was no longer lying to her. 

Vega placed her arm on the tree stump and made the same prayer she had when they entered the holy area of the shrine. This time, she didn’t speak it aloud. Great earth father and mother. Welcome me into your embrace.

The hum returned and began to snake up from her feet, through the sinews of her leg muscles, through her stomach and ribs and over her lungs. Just as she thought it was going to pour out of her mouth it changed direction and pushed its way across her right arm. 

It pushed, and pushed, and pushed against the freshly healed skin. Then it broke through and Vega let out a screech of pain.  There was something growing there, but she couldn’t look. She was too frightened. She could hear the reactions of the trio of fools behind her, and that in itself was enough. 

Then there was the sound of rumbling, and the feeling of movement beneath her. The ground was shaking with a fervor that Vega had never felt before, even when she was in areas of high magmatic activity. 

“Vega, get back!” one of the fools screamed. 

Then hands were wrapping themselves around her waist and she was pulled into Francis’ embrace, his grip tightening even as she tried to free herself. The pain worsened and spots danced across her vision until she couldn’t see anything.

And then there was quiet. For a sweet moment, there was nothing. Vega was lying on the knoll, flowers in her hair, the spiced smell of grass finding its way into her body –

She sneezed, and the world was back.

Francis hadn’t loosened his grip, even though he was still behind her. They had ended up near the entrance to the shrine, both lying on their sides and facing the wall. There was debris everywhere. Mostly bits of bench that looked like it had been ripped apart, some planks of wood from the exterior of the shrine. Vega moved her hand to prop her up and survey the rest of the shrine.

But the hand that moved was not her own.

It was a hand unlike any she had ever seen. The color of dark wood, with veins of gold in place of her usual blue and green. Thick, wooden knots covered her knuckles, and where once were her fingernails now lay smooth, polished bits of bark. 

She wanted to scream, but no sound would come. She could only stare. 

Antonia was the first to speak, her voice coming from across the shrine. “Oh gods, the priestess is dead.”

Hand forgotten for the moment, Vega whipped her head around to where the tree stump once stood. A large tree had appeared, its gnarled wood matching the color and texture of Vega’s new appendage. Antonia was knelt over the bottom half priestesses body, the rest had been swallowed by the tree. 

Vega swallowed a ball of nausea. If Francis hadn’t grabbed a hold of her, she would have ended up the same way.

Terragon made their way to Antonia and stared down at what was left of the priestess. “I’m sure she would have preferred to live, but given the circumstances of her demise it wasn’t a horrible way to go. Especially for an earthen priestess. She’ll forever be a part of a holy tree.”

Antonia clucked her tongue. “Don’t try to make the situation better by spitting religiosities, Terragon.”

Francis stirred at the sound of his friends’ voices, his body shifting against Vega’s. She moved to give him space, watching as he opened his eyes and focused on the disaster in front of him. 

But when he spoke, he was focused on something else. “Are you all right, Vega? What happened to you?”

The eyes in the room moved to her and she lifted her hand in response. “I’m forever changed. Apparently the earth father and mother blessed me with a new limb.”

Terragon rushed to her side, the priestess forgotten, and beckoned to the hand. “May I?”

The other mage nodded and held it out for them. She felt their thumb caress the intricacies that seemed to be carved into it, pausing over each detail.

Terragon’s voice was filled with reverence. “So it was true. You are an earthen mage, the one we’ve all been searching for.”

At this, Vega pulled away. “Don’t say such things to me. I’m the one who began this mess, how could I be the chosen mage of earth?”

“The ‘chosen’ mage?” Francis repeated. He was now sitting up, his back against one of the intact walls of the shrine. “What are you two talking about?”

The two mages glanced at each other, unsure who would take the mantle to describe the myth that had been passed down. Vega finally relented. “The chosen mage is the name given to a mage able to harness a new energy, always a new natural energy. But the world hasn’t seen an earthen mage since – “

“The world has never seen an earthen mage,” Terragon corrected. “I was given this name in hopes that I would turn out to be the earthen mage, since my parents were both part of the same religion the priestess was. But my only affinity was the atmosphere.”

“Surely there have been earthen mages before,” Vega countered. “There’s no way it’s taken this long since energies were discovered for someone to have an earthen affinity.”

Terragon shook their head. “No, even if someone was able to harness energy from the earth it was through other ways, like magma or lava. Never purely through the earth like you are able to. The hand is the greatest proof we could ask for.”

The earthen mage raised the hand and studied it. “I suppose our next question is how I’m going to kill something that would burn this into ashes, then?”

~~~

Once they had left the shrine and had moved out of the holy area, Vega sat on the ground and tried to focus.

Where is it? She asked the earth. You’ve claimed me, now I ask that you help me. The mage moved aside some ferns and grasses and pressed her wooden hand into the dirt. She knew how the earth felt, she had spent her childhood embraced in it, she could find something that didn’t belong.

She didn’t have to look long. The burn of the magmatic energy forced her hand out of the dirt with a yelp. The hand was trembling.

Francis knelt beside her. “Vega, what is it?”

The earthen mage shivered and replied, “It’s-It’s nearby. South, I think. Moving towards us. Very quickly.”

“Why is it coming to us?” Antonia asked. “Does it have a death wish?”

Vega shook her head. “No, it wants to destroy me. Unnatural beings are forcibly attracted to natural mages, and it must’ve felt the burst of power from my awakening.” She turned to face the other mage. “It’ll be after you too, Terragon, once it senses you.”

Terragon’s face paled at the thought, but they didn’t reply. 

After walking south for an hour, the smell of woodsmoke was the first hint that the unholy horror was near. The other was the red tinge on the horizon, and the increasing warmth on their faces. 

Vega spun around and started speaking very quickly, “I don’t know what it looks like now, so be ready for anything. Don’t use any wooden shields or weaponsand wait to hit it with anything until I say so. I’m not even sure if any of you can do any damage to it, but it wouldn’t hurt to try while I’m distracted.”

“Do you know how you’re going to kill it?” Antonia asked.

“Nope,” was the curt reply.

They pressed on until they came to a large clearing in the woods. Vega held out her hand and the party paused, listening for signs that they were close.

The unholy horror appeared with the fanfare of a driverless carriage crashing its way through a busy village. Trees toppled quickly and with little fuss as their bottoms half turned to ash. And then the thing stood in front of them.

It wasn’t magma. To Vega’s horror, it was shiny, black obsidian. 

It was hot. Too hot, in fact, for normal humans to survive without aid for long. But Terragon had brought a thick layer of clouds onto the surface, coating the party’s skin with millions of droplets of water. The protection wouldn’t last long, but hopefully long enough for Vega to finish the job.

The obsidianate horror was in the shape of a golem. Tall, reaching halfway up the trees that once stood behind it, and thick. It had no face and no features other than the curves and lines of the volcanic rock. 

But Vega imagined it smiling. 

It stepped forward, an arm reaching out towards her. If it touched any of them, they would almost certainly turn to ash. Vega felt the earth move beneath her, meeting her own will with its own. The earth had no desire to lose all of the life it created because of the horror, and Vega could exploit that. 

With a grunt, she forced her arm into the dirt in front of her and willed the earth to swallow the obsidianate horror. The dirt that the horror stood on bubbled. With a pop! the obsidianate horror sunk into earth, far enough that only the top of its legs were visible. The golem-like creature thumped its arms against the ground, setting the drier grasses on fire.

“I need water, Terragon!” she cried.

The temperature decreased slightly as the other mage gathered condensed clouds and threw the water on the burning grass. 

Further down, Vega willed the earth. 

The earth responded with a schlop! and the obsidianate horror sunk to its waist. Vega allowed herself a smile. Only a few more, and this would all be over.

“Vega!” Francis’ voice was frantic. “You’re sinking!”

What? Vega looked down and realized he was right. She was up to her knees in hot mud, her wooden hand completely swallowed by the earth. A panicked rumble began to stir in her stomach. Was this her punishment? It would be a romantic one, trapping herself and her creation in the earth that birthed her. Sinking eternally into the magma that usurped her true calling. She remembered the priestess’ tranquil smile – perhaps dying in the service of the world was what Vega was always meant to do: the chosen mage of earth, a martyr. 

But then there was the pinch of fingernails through her chemise and Antonia’s voice near her right ear, “We’ll keep you aboveground, Vega. Do what you need to do.”

Francis was in her other ear, both arms wrapped under her shoulder blades. “We won’t let you go.”

And so Vega continued, pushing her hand further into the boiling mud and pulling the energy from the earthen life around her. The grasses that hadn’t yet burned began to wilt in service to her, the trees shriveling, their leaves raining into the clearing. 

The earth moved, and the obsidianate horror sunk again. Only its chest and head remained. Warmth surrounded Vega, the mud reaching up her torso and willing her to let go. Francis and Antonia groaned with effort.

Terragon’s droplets had all but evaporated and the earthen mage could feel her skin begin to blister. She had to kill it now, or else they would all die. 

Great earth father and mother, she prayed as she closed her wooden hand into a fist, Give me the strength to condemn this horror to eternal slumber.

 A final push, and the obsidianate horror fell into the earth. 

And Vega went with it.

~~~

The earthen mage didn’t know how to swim. 

She had never learned, although the other children had spent hours in the river. She was happy with her toes in the water, hands gripping the muddy bank. Steady and in control. That was where she wished to be. 

But she was swimming now. 

In front of her, the obsidianate horror was suspended, shrunken to the size of a cat. It began to shake and twist until molten rock exploded out of it, forming into a ball of magma in front of her. Then it shaped itself in Vega’s image, flowing red locks replacing her dark brown, a hand still missing. 

When the horror spoke, it had no true voice. You’ve made quite the mess, Vega.

I’m sorry, Vega replied. I didn’t really mean to.

The horror seemed to laugh. Don’t lie to me. You did mean to. You just didn’t accept the consequences. 

Why does everyone keep saying that? Vega felt shame behind her eyes. I’m not a child. Stop patronizing me. 

The horror tilted her head to one side. It’s okay. Don’t get angry. You’ve made it right again. I’m back in the earth, where I’m supposed to be. I’ll continue my journey until I’m home again. Will you do the same?

Vega shook her head. They won’t accept me. 

And yet you’ve already been accepted by those you used to despise. Do you have so little faith in yourself? You summoned me because you believed the power within you wasn’t enough to prove them all wrong. And yet here you are. A thousand times stronger through will of your own.

Will I die?

Eventually. The horror held out her left hand. Vega took it and was surprised to find it cool to the touch. But not today. 

~~~

They caused quite a scene when they walked into the Possum’s Tooth tavern. Three of them were covered in head-to-toe ash, while the fourth was dripping wet. They sat at a table in the very corner of the dining area and were silent until their food and drinks came. Once they had eaten their fill, the words began to spill out of each of their mouths.

“So the magmite horror – “

“Obsidianate horror.”

“- the obsidianate horror, which was originally the magmite horror but turned into the obsidianate horror once it was above ground – “

“Correct.”

“- the obsidianate horror didn’t even wish to be above ground?”

Vega leaned back in her chair and thought for a moment. “I think it’s true form was the magmite horror, the one that I saw suspended in the earth, but it became something uncontrollable once it was brought to the surface. I brought the hotspot’s true being to the surface, the power that was never meant to leave the earth itself. If we hadn’t killed it, it would have spent all its energy destroying the world so that it could feel at home again.”

Silence stretched across the table.

Francis spoke next, “Where do you plan on going next, Vega?”

The earthen mage examined her wooden arm. “I suppose I’ll be called to earthen shrines across the continent. Hopefully those visits won’t end in tragedy like the last one did.”

Antonia sat forward and took Vega’s human hand. “Are you sure that’s what you want to do? You should rest for a bit. No one but us knows who you are, there’s no real rush.”

Vega smiled at the archer and replied, “I suppose I do want to go home, for a bit.”

“Where’s home?” Francis asked, swirling his mug of dark beer.

The mage thought for a moment. “About a hundred miles southwest of here. In the foothills of the mountains of War.”

Out of the corner of her eye, Vega saw Antonia nudge Francis, who flinched and spilled a couple droplets of beer. The swordsman said, “I have business in that area. I’ll come with you.”

The anticipatory silence that followed made Vega laugh. Really laugh, for the first time in years, peals echoing off the dark walls of the tavern. Laughter not created from mocking, or teasing, or ill will. Joyful, excited laughter. Once she was finished, her cheeks were red from the effort and tears had collected in the corner of her eyes. 

“That sounds lovely, Francis. I’ve always wanted a bodyguard.”