The Aandriilien

In the heart of the magic forest of Llandil lived the Aandriilien. They were a magical people, living in seclusion from the rest of the world, and spoken of only in legends. The stories all said their kingdom was green and beautiful, their girls as graceful as the sea, and their voices enough to enchant.

But there were a few who knew more than just the legends. There lived a handful of people who knew about Llandil—most of them witches and warlocks who had learned of it by their black art. And a good number of them were members of the most fearsome and secretive band of sorcerers in all the land: the Black Midnight Order.

Near a small huddle of black-robed people deep beneath the heart of the capital city, in a dim, green-lit room full of spell books and potions, a young-looking woman was pacing. She had blue-black hair in a thick braid that reached her ankles, and wore a massive pointed hat. She was dressed in a low-cut, tight-fitting black dress with long, flowing sleeves and a short skirt, and high-heeled boots cut a little above the knee. As she stopped pacing momentarily, she leaned on her wooden staff, engraved with strange magic symbols, and bearing a large gem at the top end that glowed with the same eerie blue as her eyes.

An old man in the small circle by the woman’s feet addressed her. “Pacing like that will do you no good, Aradia.”

“I can’t help it!” she cried, simultaneously dropping to the floor to sit cross-legged in defeat.

“We are all in dire straits if our most powerful sorceress, Aradia of the Moon, cannot keep still,” another man in the circle said scornfully.

“Most powerful, but not powerful enough!” Aradia roared, jumping up to her feet again and waving her staff toward the wall, denting it with the wind she displaced. “We need to absorb the Aandriilien. With their power—”

“Be still,” the first man interrupted. “We are already unstoppable. Our greatest strength lies in our secrecy. As long none outside our own Order know of us, we can continue our work unopposed.”

“But don’t you see?” Aradia moaned in exasperation. “These Aandriilien are as powerful as we have always been told! It is only a matter of time before they find us out.”

“So what do you propose?”

Aradia purposefully slowed her breathing and sat herself down on the floor again. “We get to them first. We destroy them and absorb their power. Here they are only legend. No one will know of the deed but ourselves.”

“And what happens should you miss one?” the old man challenged. “That one will know of us. That one will have a grudge against us. That one could topple our Order.”

“That is unlikely,” Aradia said, clenching her teeth in an attempt to keep her cool. “They do not venture far from their borders and I do not make mistakes. Besides, such is the power of the moon that cloaks me that no weapon but a green-glowing, enchanted blade could ever draw blood from me. The legends do not speak of more than one, and that one was destroyed by my distant predecessor, Avalon of the Moon, more than six hundred years ago.”

“Then do you propose going alone?”

“I do.”

“Why not?” another, younger man in the circle interjected. “It sounds like a good plan to me.”

“I did not ask for your opinion,” the old man said icily, staring straight into the younger man’s eyes until he cowered beneath them. Then he turned, no less chillingly, onto Aradia, but she did not flinch. “When do you plan to execute this attack of yours?”

“The six hundred and sixty-sixth day of Mirdaneth, the night of the full moon, at midnight precisely.”

“Mirdaneth 666!” someone else in the room exclaimed. “Coinciding exactly with the full moon? The six hundred and sixty-sixth day of the two-year Twin Winter of the Moon comes but once every twenty years—what are the chances that this one would be on the night of the full moon? With clear skies, your power would be greater than it could possibly be for centuries to come!”

“Precisely,” Aradia purred, licking her lips. “In ten days, my power will be greater than all the gods’.”

The old man bowed his head. “You seem confident, and have good reason to be so. However! I want you to remember that if anything, and I mean anything, in this mission of yours should go amiss, I will hold you and you alone wholly responsible. Now go, and do not interrupt the council again until it is finished!”

Aradia bowed and strode out of the room.

It was midnight and a young teenage girl woke with a start, sweating and shivering. She hugged her blankets around herself for a moment before throwing them savagely to the floor and fleeing the little wooden bedroom, not even attempting silence despite the fact that someone else was sleeping on the other side of that very same room. She navigated her way through the halls of the house, some wooden, some stone, and some made of marble and precious metals and gems, before swinging open the golden door at the end of a long and complicated passageway. She ran straight into the ornate wooden room and threw herself on the bed. She landed on a figure and started shaking it violently.

And it awoke. He was an older man, with gray hair but strong muscles, and was soon blinking in an attempt to see who had woken him. He saw a small, agile young girl with green eyes and wavy golden hair to her waist. Instantly he sat up and spoke to her. “Ava? What are you doing?”

“Dad! I had a horrible dream! Aradia of the Moon is coming!”

“Who?”

Ava’s face grew serious. “I know you know already,” she said. “Aradia of the Moon, the great sorceress. She is coming to destroy us, at midnight ten days from now— the night of the full moon.”

“I don’t know where you heard that name,” her father said sternly, “but I assure you we are safe from her here. Now go back to sleep.”

“But Dad!”

“No buts, young lady. Off to bed.”

Just then a guard peeked in. “Shall I escort your daughter to her chambers, your Majesty?”

“Yes. Now go, Ava.”

She hung her head and left with the soldier. Soon another young man came walking by and interrupted them.

“Ho there.”

“Sir,” the soldier escorting Ava said, saluting.

“I’ll take her from here,” the other young man said.

The soldier bowed and walked off.

“I don’t need your help, Arden,” Ava said contemptuously.

Arden looked surprised. “What’s gotten into you, little sis?”

Ava plopped onto the ground and looked up at her brother apologetically. “I’m sorry. I just… had a bad dream.”

Arden squatted down near her. “I kind of thought you were old enough to have a bad dream without waking Dad.”

“Shut up.” She pinched him.

“Ow!” He rubbed his arm and his shoulder blade-length blond hair fell over his shoulders. “Okay, okay, I got it, Ava. Actually, I was going to see Dad for the same reason.” His voice lowered and he whispered to her, “I dreamed we were going to be invaded by Aradia of the Moon.”

Ava pulled herself straight up the moment he said that. “Ten days from now, at midnight under the full moon?”

“How did you know that?”

“Because I dreamed the exact same thing!”

For a moment they simply stared at each other, growing very pale as the meaning of what they had just told each other sank in. “This… can’t be good,” Arden finally said.

“Don’t tell Dad tonight,” Ava began slowly. “I already interrupted him and he blew me off. Tell him in the morning.”

“I wonder if any of our other brothers dreamed it too?”

“Naw. I think it’s the youngest-siblings connection.”

Arden half-smiled in spite of himself. He stood up and offered Ava his hand and pulled her to her feet. “Come on, let’s get some sleep.” And they walked back to their room and spent the rest of the night in a dreamless slumber.

“I got good news and I got bad news,” Arden announced to Ava, waiting anxiously outside the huge golden double-doors of the throne room. “Which do you want first?”

“Bad,” Ava answered resolutely.

“He didn’t believe me.”

“What!”

“He thinks you put me up to this.”

Ava had a blank look on her face and spoke rather sourly. “I’m fifteen years old. You’re sixteen. How in the world would I put you up to anything?”

“Well, you do have that one picture of—”

“Oh yeah, that. But Dad doesn’t know about that. Thanks for reminding me, though.” She looked mischievous.

Arden swallowed hard and fidgeted with his collar. “…Right. Anyway, he doesn’t believe we both dreamed the same dream; he thinks you put the idea in my head, or possibly the other way around. One way or another, he doesn’t believe Aradia of the Moon is coming.”

“Fudge.”

“Yeah. But I have good news.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. Dad says if I want to fight so badly, and since I’ve done so well, I can become a soldier.”

“Ah! Arden! Really? Really truly?” She jumped to her feet and clapped her hands.

“Yep,” her brother replied, looking pardonably proud. “Normally I wouldn’t get it for another two months. But I start this afternoon instead. And, he says since I’m so worried about it, I can take the family sword on the night of the full moon and keep watch for the witch.”

Ava flung herself into her brother’s arms and squeezed the breath out of him. “Congrats, Brother!”

“Thanks, Sis. Well, I’ve got to get ready now. I’m going to miss my hair, though.”

Ava laughed. “Don’t be such a weenie. They’re only cutting it just above your shoulders. Besides, all the warriors wear it that way. It’s a mark of status.”

Arden shrugged. “Sure, I guess. I’ll see you later, Ava!”

“Bye!”

The week passed slowly and nervously for the brother and sister as the full moon drew steadily nearer. Finally the night had come. The skies were ominous all around them, threatening to drench them as they stood outside straining their eyes for the witch. The clouds nearly blotted out the moon; nearly, but not completely, and Ava and Arden knew her power would still be great.

Midnight drew closer and closer, but there was no sign of an attack. Finally the bells rang 12 A.M. and the siblings held their breath, but of the witch there was no sign.

Suddenly the clouds shrouding the sky were pushed back and the moon shone clear over them. Just as this was dawning on them, a piercing cry of “Fire!” was raised, and in an instant, their entire town was in flames.

Then the witch appeared.

She rose from the smoke right before their eyes. Ava and her brother were the only ones on that watchtower, and the witch’s eyes flashed with rage as she alighted before them. They were absolutely frozen. Arden’s hand was on the hilt of his sword but his muscles refused to draw it. Ava simply huddled behind him.

“So, you are the two who saw my coming,” Aradia hissed at them. “Foolish children. If you had kept your dream to yourselves, I wouldn’t have come all the way up here just to kill you.”

Arden began to unsheathe his sword, but the witch was faster. With another hiss, one that seemed to excite all the flames around them, she hurled both new soldier and sister off the wall and down into the flames below.

But a bubble of green light surrounded the pair, keeping the flames at bay. Ava was growing faint with the desperate use of her only power, and her brother put her arm around his shoulder and began to run as fast as he could toward the shelter of the nearby woods.

They were just getting away from the flames and Ava’s power gave out. It seemed they had almost reached safety when Arden let out a cry and pushed his sister forward into the greenery. Everything was muddled for a few seconds. Blue things seemed to be whizzing all around Ava and her head was swimming. But finally her eyes focused and she found her brother, crouched over her, and breathing heavily. His eyes were unfocused but he tried to look at her face. He opened his mouth but all that came out was blood and the whispered word, “…Sister…”

He slumped over her and she bit her lip to keep from screaming. In his blood-soaked back were nine daggers of ice the witch had sent flying towards them. With a trembling hand she felt weakly for a pulse, but there was none. It was too late.

Just then the flames in the city died instantaneously and the clouds rushed back to cover the moon. The rain started pouring, falling in torrents on the wreckage. Screaming, half with disbelief and half with rage, Ava grabbed the sword belt around her dead brother’s waist and drew the weapon, charging nowhere in particular, looking for the witch.

But soon her strength gave out and she dropped to her knees in the ashes. The witch was gone… and so was everyone else. She sat there, crying bitterly, letting her tears mingle with the rain, for a good fifteen minutes before she stood up and wiped her dirty face with her blue tunic. She strapped her brother’s scabbard around her waist and picked up the sword. Taking it, she lifted her hair and chopped it so that it reached only a little above her shoulders, like the warriors of her people.

And as the sword in her hands glowed green, her eyes gleamed with the strength that can only be forged in sorrow.