Denror woke me up just in time for lunch. He told me that the summoning ritual took about an hour, and that we both had to be as well rested as possible for what was coming. He could tell I was nervous, so Denror offered to talk me through it.
“Drawing on death isn’t easy, and requires a lot of the Old Magic, and Fae charms. I have everything set up in one of the base compartments.”
“I don’t know any Old Magic,” I said.
“Fortunate for you, you are not required to speak for the incantation.” I had a feeling Denror was slightly pleased by this as well, but chose not to react.
“What am I required to do then?” I asked.
“Focus. Focus on your hands, prepare for the upcoming fight. You must sit inside the circle and your gnavitas, or your inner strength, will be taken from you to summon the Collector. It’s difficult to explain, but just do as I say and it should end well,” Denror said. He stood up and carried our bowls to the wash-barrel, then turned back to me. “Shall we go?”
I nodded and found I was unable to say anything until we got to the room he’d set up. Precious gemstones and bobbles I didn’t recognize sat on the outline of a seven-point star encased in a triangle, drawn in wax.
Denror directed me to sit cross-legged in the center of the design. “When the circle is complete, you’ll feel a pull, like something trying to drag you down from the inside. It will hurt, but you must persist. If you faint, this will all be for nothing. Are you ready?”
“I suppose so. Let’s do this,” I answered. Rather than focus on Denror after this, I closed my eyes and concentrated on my hands and fingers, until I felt the concentration in my fingertips. Off to the side somewhere, I heard Denror begin to chant, and attempted not to listen.
I had finished reciting all the incantations at least twice when the pain came. It was far worse than Denror ever could’ve imagined. I’ve never been able to describe it since then. I felt like a hand went inside and grabbed hold, my intestines and ribs began to feel compressed, squeezed and near breaking. I wouldn’t let myself scream. To keep myself conscious, rather than focus on the feeling of being ripped apart from the inside out, I focused on my fingers, on the incantations buried within, on the words I didn’t understand, on images that gave me hope.
The pain got so intense that I couldn’t breathe, but I still fought to stay awake. With eyes wide and bloodshot, lips parted in a silent scream, I stared at the ceiling. Somehow, I watched as the Collector was summoned. It felt like it pulled itself out of my insides, but it was a mist. Black mist, that gathered together in the form of a person. When the thing formed, I was scared.
Denror had said that Collectors could take any shape, but the shape this one took was the one I never thought I’d see again. When I was little, I’d known a boy named Laine. Just a few seasons after we met, I found him dead, lying face-down in a creek with slashes all over him from an attack.
This thing was taller, but it wore his face—soft, round cheeks, a sad little mouth, ruffled brown hair. But not the eyes. This thing’s eyes were completely white, not like Laine’s deep, dark brown ones. These eyes had no end and no beginning, no life, just death.
He surveyed the room and focused on me, as though Denror was less than nothing to him. By that time I’d struggled out of the circle and onto my hands and knees, trying to stand up.
When he spoke, his voice was even more gravelly than Denror’s. “You foolish girl, you can barely stand. That you welcome death into your home is unusual, but simplifying.”
“I will kill you,” I said, forcing myself to my feet. I swayed for a moment, and he seemed in no hurry. “It’s the only way to be rid of you all.”
“Ah, I see. You’ve been cursed. How unfortunate for you. But know this: none has ever killed one of us.”
“Why? You talk them all to death?”
He roared in anger and charged for me. He swung his arm at me and I ducked at the last second. His fist slammed into the stone wall, fracturing it. I scrambled for the circle, scooping up the knife next to Denror, and ran for the tunnel. I knew the Collector would follow me, so I didn’t bother to slow down. I heard him, and he sounded larger and angrier—maybe it was just the echo.
I tore up the tunnel, barely able to breathe, and burst through the mouth of the caverns. I ran down the slope, but tripped and tumbled the rest of the way. I slid to a stop at the bottom and just waited. However, less than two seconds passed until I saw the Collector. He came over the hill, the snow melting and grass withering underneath him.
“Run little rabbit, run,” he hissed. His face and body contorted as he walked, and he changed forms—into a snarling wolf. He didn’t run towards me, and I didn’t run away from him. I twisted the knife around in my grip and knelt in the snow.
“Forgive me, Mitéra ,” I said. I spoke an incantation Denror taught me and slammed both fists into the ground as hard as I could.
The earth erupted underneath the Collector’s paws, and he fell. In an instant he was up again, riding on the wings of a black hawk. He set himself down on untouched ground, melting back to human. “Foolish little rabbit,” he snarled.
“Pesky bird.” I focused on my feet this time, trying to place crippling power in the soles. I ran towards the Collector, using my hands to distract him. I punched at his face and his lungs, but he blocked me. I repeatedly missed his body as I threw wild punches and kicks, until I finally landed a hit. My foot clipped his shin and I dropped to the ground when he did.
The Collector snarled, and sent out his own magic. Dark tendrils shot from him and entangled me, searing my skin and stealing my breath. I used the last of my breath to utter a charm. The tendrils of magic sunk under my skin, and my own magic fought and destroyed it. It hurt, but I was alive.
“You’ll have to do better than that.” I climbed to my feet, but I couldn’t lift my left arm.
“As you wish.”
My left arm began to turn black, and I swore. I’d charmed my left hand with the most powerful spell, and now couldn’t use it. I charged at him, making a wild arc with the knife, and began to speak in incantations.
“Páno apó ta káto , káto apó psilá
Protagonistés sto skotádi , errífthi eis tin péran tou
Den eínai pléon gia tin katapolémisi tis , den eínai pléon na anapnéfsei
Me ti dýnami tis fotiás , tis gis , aéra kai neró
Férei sto proskínio tin katastrofí tou, férnoun sto Ntémi tou”
“That won’t work on me,” he snarled. Somehow I knew he was lying, and I also knew I wasn’t going to last much longer. If I couldn’t make the next few count, I’d go down for good.
I shouted “fotiá” and fire shot from the ground beneath him. I jumped back in surprise, because the flame burned high and hot—I’d never managed fire like that. I yelled the words for the three other elements, and each time was more amazing than the last. When I called to the air, it fanned the fire and tore slashes across both of our bodies.
My left arm hung useless by my side, and my right arm was laced with cuts, burns and mud. The Collector’s body was just as messed up as mine, and he’d flung several of his own spells at me. I was breathing hard, but he didn’t look fazed.
“I’m not giving up,” I gasped.
He walked towards me and I couldn’t move away. The Collector brought his hand up and slapped me down. My cheek stung. When I tried to get up, he stomped on my wrist. I dropped the knife and screamed.
“You should,” he snarled.
With a burst of adrenaline, I rolled over and knocked him off of me. I grabbed the knife, and held it to my chest and rolled over. He bent down to take the knife, and I made a risky move. I punched his chin, kicked upwards, and made him fall on top of me. The knife sliced through him, and he stopped, frowned and stood up.
My eyes widened in fear. “It didn’t work,” I whispered.
“Of course not. We can’t die,” he said.
“Everyone dies,” I argued.
“Yes, everyone dies. But not everything.”
“If I cut you into enough pieces, maybe then you’ll die,” I hissed. And I put everything I had into my last attack. I summoned the wind, froze water into needle-like blades, and threw myself into the fray. I don’t know how, but I became the wind. I gathered all the ice needles and spun myself into a violent gust. And then I let fly the missiles.
I felt the needles stinging my flesh, but my mind was still in the wind. I managed to get the needle-blades focused on the Collector, and he couldn’t stand up against the wind. His flesh was sliced from his bones, and he dispersed into a mist. But as mist, he still couldn’t get away from me. I pulled him together in a tight black mass and I let all my pent up anger loose on him. I smashed him together and pulled him apart, and when I thrust him into the snow, I threw myself in all directions, slamming down on the snow. It became so packed that even his mist wouldn’t be able to snake out.
When I woke up, I was exhausted, and I knew I was back in my body. I couldn’t move my arms or legs. I wished I could have stayed as the wind, and not be forced into the confinement of my body. I groaned and forced myself to open my eyes. I squinted up at the bright blue sky and felt the cold snow numbing me.
It took awhile before I could roll over, and when I did I felt something fall off me. I looked down at the amulet, and I knew that it was over. I shoved it away and collapsed back on the snow. The cold stung my torn flesh, but I knew I was alive, and I was free.
Two arms lifted me up and then I lost all sense of where I was.
The next time I woke up, I wasn’t in the snow, and I wasn’t in a cave. I was lying on the underbrush, and a leaf had fallen onto my cheek. The sun was blocked by trees, and it was rain falling on my face that woke me up. No, not rain….
I sat up and looked at my arms and legs. The cuts had all closed up, the only evidence that they’d ever been there were pink lines. I was clean and my clothes were fresh and comfortable.
“You slept a very long time,” a woman said. Her voice came from behind me, and when I turned around to face her, I was momentarily panicked. Narisza lounged in the stream, resting her head and arms on the bank.
“How did I get here?”
“A friend brought you. The scales, you kept them.” She sounded surprised and pleased. “Why?”
“You wouldn’t have given them to me if you hadn’t wanted me to keep them,” I answered.
“That’s true. They saved your life, didn’t they?”
I nodded. “But I don’t know how.”
“They each gave you control of one of the elements. I don’t know which one.”
“Why?” I questioned.
“Fair is fair.” With that, she ducked under the water and I didn’t see her again for a very, very long time. Denror had given me a farewell gift: he’d wrapped the amulet in gray fabric, and a note telling me to be careful. I went home with the pendant safely out of me, scars on my body and naiad scales around my neck. One had broken and vanished when I’d used the wind magic; who knew when I’d need the other eight.
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