The Reckoning (short story)

This is a creative work set in the world of Elanthia, attributed to its original author(s). It does not necessarily represent the official lore of GemStone IV.

Title: The Reckoning

Author: Rohese Bayvel-Timbertree

First published on the 15th day of Charlatos in the year 5122

Following on from the Search for the Truth, this journal is a repository of vignettes including insights into Rohese's continued story.

Prologue

"It all begins and ends in your mind.  What you give power to, has the power over you, if you allow it."

It had all started with a curse.

Poladra hadn't meant to hurt Rohese quite so profoundly but she was not known for her patience. She had lashed out but who could blame her. To have your fiancé declare his love for another on your wedding day was enough to upset anyone and make them angry; for it to be your own sister was the cruellest blow of all.

Admittedly, Rohese had claimed to have been oblivious and, in hindsight, that was probably true. Rohese had always been the naive one, something that Poladra used to tease her about mercilessly. As children, they had bickered like all sisters are wont to do but, on the whole, they had been quite amicable. Rohese had resented how close her elder sibling had been to their father though but he didn’t actually play favourites; he merely had more interest in the arcane arts than the spiritual.

Poladra paced her small room, her heels clicking against the bare stone floor. The term "room" was probably an exaggeration. It was more of a cell furnished with a cot, a single blanket and a rickety stand, on which stood a jug of tepid water for bathing. The only redeeming feature about the confined space was the window that overlooked a cobbled courtyard and the fact that the door was ajar. Poladra's movements were not restricted and she was free to come and go at will.

The witch had spent the last 25 years striving to understand and perfect her magical power in this place, hiding from Elven society while she wrestled with her conscience and desire to learn more. She stood at the window and stared at the moons in the night sky. Another Lornon's Eve had come and gone and she was still unable to harness the Dark Moon's potent energy. Three months later and she had finally learned something that brought that possibility closer.

Word had reached her that Rohese had come into possession of their grandmother's ring. The Day of Zelia's Warning was only weeks away; it was time.

It Begins

Rohese slipped her trowel into the trug to the side and rose to her feet with a weary sigh. Pulling the muddy gloves from her hands, she lay them on top of the gardening tools and grimaced at the state of her pinafore. The soil-stained hem was testament to her efforts that morning in the manse garden. Spring was in the air and Rohese was conscious that there was still so much to do to prepare and she couldn't leave it all to Hosta, Sylvanfair's dedicated gardener of many years.

The birds in the nearby trees were in full voice; their melodic song was enough to drive away any sense of melancholy and Rohese felt her spirits lift as she took in the freshly tilled soil and array of tender green seedlings around her.

The sun was low in the west. Mirkk would hopefully be home soon from another day out helping the Mirror's Steward to track down poachers. Rohese would just have time to change if she headed in now. She giggled to herself at the thought of being caught in her gardening apparel and it reminded her of the time Mirkk had arrived at the Ailanthus Manse a year ago in his fishing gear.

Pausing at the door into the manse, Rohese picked a few sprigs of lilac and added them to the trug; a vase or two would brighten up the place. On entering, she noticed that a couple of unopened letters had been left on the table. Normally they would be opened and those needing her attention would be deposited on her desk in the Solar but everyone had been so busy with their other chores today. One envelope in particular caught her eye; the penmanship was familiar and it caused her to drop the trug with a clatter.

Rohese tentatively cracked the wax seal and pulled out a single sheet of parchment. The colour drained from her cheeks and she sank onto the bench with her hand pressed against the scar on her throat. Time seemed to stop and then speed up rapidly as she re-read the two lines of text. With shaking hands, she quickly crumpled it up and threw it into the stove along with the envelope, where she watched it curl and blacken into nothing but ash.

The irony was not lost on her as she recalled the contents of the letter.

"Enjoy your kisses while you may.  
Soon it will all be ashes in your mouth."