Nighted Colours

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A wide-eyed lass with long black hair entered a softly dim room, and smoothly took a seat next to a slumbering old woman. The only light seeped through a small gap between the curtains. The hazy film on the woodwork revealed the absence of a housekeeper. The adolescent poised, as she brushed her hair behind small pointed ears. She gazed at the old woman's similarly formed ears. The young girl's cat shaped eyes glistened blue as she spoke to the old one. "Excuse me."

The old woman woke startled. "Oh! Hello." She smiled after clearing her throat. "I don't get many visitors these days. No one wants to hear the ravings of an old woman."

"I do. I'm Glenda." The young woman grinned with her hand out. "That's why I'm here. I was told, well, you are the only one in town, well supposedly you're from the old days. You know, during the dark times. I need to ask you about those days, about the struggles, about Angus MacKay. I'm his granddaughter. An old man named George looks after me most of the time. He won't tell me anything."

The old woman raised one eyebrow as she shuffled herself upright. "Angus? I guess I can understand why he wouldn't tell you." She winced and rubbed her back. "You see, your grandfather wasn't one of the nicest people." Her severely wrinkled face filled with interest as her grayish-yellow eyes smiled. "I'll need some of your hair, a glass ball or a mirror, some of my hair, and my knife that is in that drawer." She coughed as she aimed her bony finger at a chest just out of her reach. "My voice is tired and it's a long story. I will have to show you." Her expression became very serious as she gaped into the young woman's eyes. "This is going to cost me a great deal. With every spell there is a cost. My cost is always my life force."

The young woman lost her smile. "I am afraid I don't have any money."

"It isn't money I seek." The old woman widened her light amber eyes. "Angus had potions, elixirs of youth. Promise me one and I will show some of the past. More than one . . . more of the past, and so on."

"There are some dusty old bottles in the cellar. At least, I remember some." The young woman searched through her memory. "I can't promise you they are what you seek."

"Tell me what they look like." The old one licked her dry lips.

"Clay bottles, red, blue, dusty, I don't know." She frantically tried to remember. "You can have them if that's what you want."

"That's what I need." The old lady grinned, cut a curl of her hair, and chanted, "Life of the past." She took a lock of the young woman's hair, "Life of the future." She sliced her own hand, "Liquid of life." She mixed the materials together as the girl handed her a mirror. She smeared the concoction onto the glass. "Show me the truths, show me the trials, I give my life's blood to see the past again." An image materialized in the blurred mirror . . .

The clouded picture slowly cleared. Creeping slowly, dusk came quietly, strangling the light as the phantom shadows grew. Pyres raged through clustered wooden shanties; where earlier chain attired warriors had stomped side by side. The warriors' swords and shields formed a deadly wall of metal. They push the burning boards aside with their round shields. Commands were shouted at them from a mounted man shaped hunk of steel behind them. "Detachment halt!" The soldiers stopped but kept their swords and shields up. "Orks could be in any dark area. Squad leader!"

"Yes, Prince Tenelyth!" One of twelve chain-armored men turned and clenched his fist to his heart in a salute. "A-team check the left. B-team check right!"

A flashing orange cloud exploded and dropped the twelve men. Tenelyth flopped off his horse and clanked. Suddenly, a cheer echoed from every shaded cranny. Pig-faced soldiers in brown studded leather unfurled like a dank mist. With their crude spears forward and in great numbers they doled out to each chain clad warrior his unfair share of wounds. More human warriors breached the ring of flame. Their organized line pushed the orks back slowly.

Nine men in brilliant bronze plates and chain traced the systematic foot soldiers. One rider hopped down and attended to the fallen prince. "Prince Tenelyth!"

"Forget him, Burnhardt!" A voice ordered. "We have the orks on the run. That wound isn't serious. Someone else can save him."

"But he's your brother, Your-Highness!" Burnhardt stood and turned back to his mount.

"Help, Alex . . . !" Tenelyth reached out.

"Sorry, Tenelyth." The younger prince flipped his visor down. "The security of a nation comes first! The healers will be here soon."

Alexander and his force sent the orks running. Alexander's cavalry killed off the stragglers as they pursued relentlessly. The triumphant cavalry congratulated each other as they chased the hoard across the border and into the waning night.