For Incanto.
And so it came to pass that when a boy child was born on the night of the winter solstice, all of Weerian celebrated. The great houses of Findahl came to pay their respects to his lady mother, and the child born on such an auspicious day. Many petitioned to present boons to the child, Staff-bearers and full Quislai alike, out of love for the new mother. She chose her three from the ranks of her contemporaries, all careful strategic choices, for a boon gifting would twine the threads of fate between child and patron together in profound ways. Morgana Shee, a new and powerful Gold Staff, blessed him with great passion for all he set his heart on. Thia Pendriel, rival to Morgana Shee ... lesser in talent but with superior lineage and clear ambitions towards the Council, provided a blessing of possessing a great destiny. The final blessing was provided by a Quislai ... an unusual event in itself as the Quislai were rarely trusted with boon-gifting after Gaden Goldeyes blessed Arien Edgewater to always have wet feet. But the new mother was firm in her choice. Elwyn Silverhair held the child to her breast and blessed him with being beloved of madness. There were mutters of yet another crazy Quislai boon, but the mother only smiled placidly. She held her child aloft, and said, "welcome my son, Cadal Forge." And the assembled great houses replied, "we welcome Cadal Forge, our son." And so it came to pass.
Elwyn smiled at the young boy who regarded her with such dark eyes and grave expression. "Aren't you a lovely little thing," she cooed, fingers tangling in his hair, "I think I would very much like you to be mine." Her hand cupped his cheek. "Would you like that, my little Cadal?" He nodded solemnly at her, half entranced, half awed. Her laughter was a bright sound as she quickly unlaced his shirt and bared his chest. She traced her fingertips over where his heart lay, then replaced them with her lips. "There," she breathed out, "your heart has my mark now. Your destiny is twined with mine." He smiled at her. "Now you should do something for me. Would you do that?" He nodded. "Conquer me a world," she said, "a new world full of playthings. I think I would like that very much."
And so it came to pass that Red Staff Cadal Forge did reside in the Stillworld, as an apprentice to a human alchemist. But the Stillworld did not accept sorcery in all its parts and Cadal Forge was tortured by unbelievers and betrayers for his very nature. His boon gifter Morgana Shee returned his damaged body to Fell Valdris for healing, but his soul was sickened by his experiences. He committed reprehensible acts of revenge against the humans who had betrayed him, and for that he faced sanctions by the Council of Weerain. However these were mitigated by his terrible suffering at the hands of human bigots.
It was a dark time in Florence, full of suspicion. Neighbours, friends, family all coming to the Inquisition to confide allegations. A woman sat across from a priest. Her deep cowl shielded her identity ably, but her voice was sweet and young in the shadows.
"You will find them all here," she indicated on a hand-drawn map. "But you must take the oldest gentleman first. Do not harm him, but make him betray the youth. He will do so with some persuasion, that is a certainty. Ensure that you make it clear to the youth that it is Gallura who has betrayed him, that it is that girl's father who gave him over to you. If you do as I suggest, you will get results beyond your expectations." The priest nodded sagely.
"We thank you for your contribution," he intoned, gathering her map to himself. "We shall make every endeavour to capture every last Satanic practitioner in this city."
"As long as he knows it is that tart's father who is betraying him, all will be well," she murmured to herself, "I cannot condone her hold over him, he whose heart is already claimed by myself. He will take my revenge."
And so it came to pass that the Red Staff Cadal Forge did plot intrigues against the Council of Weerain. Many times did the Council look the other way when his treason came to light, out of respect for his mother. But finally, the bitter hate which had consumed him became too much to tolerate and he was forthwith banished to the Chaotic Zone. It was not expected that he would be seen in the Wildworld again.
The air itself in the Chaotic Zone crackled with power. A constant rain of wild magic pelted down from the skies and rose like a mist from the ground. Cadal huddled in a foetal position, hands clutched around his staff as he struggled to maintain his shrinking protective spell. Each gasping breath allowed more magic filaments into his lungs, into his blood. The strands of wild magic were slowly constricting him, breaking him apart.
Time was a plaything of the mind in that place. There was no light, no darkness, no shortest night and longest day. He could have lain there for hours or days of lifetimes. He did not look beyond the walls of his spell, did not look into the swirling anarchy beyond pressing against the limits of his power, aching to consume him whole. He looked down at his hands, his hands which crushed Celeste's throat, which touched her inside and out, until she cried for him to stop, stop. His hands which branded Gallura on every limb, a mark to match each one he suffered at the behest of the Inquisition. He learnt the art of torture for them, to repay their betrayal. And now, who was left for him?
He tucked his shivering hands into his chest, right hand resting as it always did against the mark above his heart. Elwyn. Elwyn! She was a full Quislai, able to survive in this wasteland out here. And she at least had never plotted against him, or been too obsessed with her own rivalries to have time for him. She, at least, would answer him in his time of need.
"Elwyn," he shouted out, "Elwyn, Elwyn," her name over and over, until all he could hear, could think of was her name. He traced it into the dust with his staff, until it filled every corner of his tiny protected domain. "Elwyn," as soft as a whisper, "Elwyn," and he slept.
She came. She stepped through the Chaotic Zone, the stray magic melting easily into her frame. She breathed in the wild strands, gathered them into a net for her hair. She came, to where Cadal curled up in the dust, a pathetic creature scrabbling in the dirt to avoid the stinging shards of wild magic. She nudged him with her foot,
"Cadal," she intoned, disdainful and annoyed. He jerked awake.
"Elwyn, Elwyn," he crawled towards her, clutching the hem of her robe in his hands, "I knew you would not forsake me like the others." She shook off his grasping hands. "I did what you asked of me, I asked the Council, again and again, to conquer the Stillworld, just as you wanted."
"That was not what I wanted," she replied, distant and implacable.
"But you said that! You asked me to conquer you a world! Surely you must see that everything that has landed me here, in this forsaken place, was to fulfil your wish."
"I asked you to conquer me a world. You! Not to delegate the task to some lackeys. I wished you to show me what value I had to you. And now I know. Not nearly enough, it seems." She turned to leave.
"Elwyn, wait, stop! Give me another chance. I can still do it. Just get me out of here, and I will take the Stillworld myself, for you. Just, just get me out of this place." She paused.
"And if I do this thing for you, then you will dedicate your destiny to fulfilling that role to which you have bound yourself?"
"Yes, yes, Elwyn, yes."
"Then so be it," she said, bending down to pick up a small rock. She stood over Cadal, moving her hand over the mark on his chest. "Cadal," she whispered, voice gentle, "brace yourself." He opened his mouth to ask, but in that moment she slammed her hand against his torso, driving the rock into his heart. "In a moment the pain will disappear as if you never knew it, and this will grow, nurtured by your blood, into what you need to achieve your destiny. Anything Unmade can be Made again in this place, Cadal. And with your lifeblood, you can Make the Heart of Valor. Do not forget your promise, Cadal. Destiny will not be so forgiving next time." With that he fell to the ground, motionless. His body curled around a pulsating red jewel cradled against his chest.
And so it came to pass that the Red Staff Cadal Forge failed in his attempts to conquer the Stillworld. By the cunning of Gold Staff Morgana Shee and four human children, he was trapped in the voidspace as he fell through the Passage between worlds. Thus ended the destiny of Cadal Forge. And so it came to pass.
Elwyn stopped before a certain not-painting in Fell Andred. "You were always my beloved," she said, "that was your only destiny."
Back to the main page.
Disclaimer: the characters, fictional settings, and universes created by L. J. Smith are copyright © Lisa J. Smith, Daniel Weiss Associates, Inc. and their affiliates. This fan-created site, along with the stories it houses, means no infringement upon any trademark, copyright, or other legal binding. This archive claims no rights to any of the stories collected here.