“We’re not sure,” Moira says. “But the big theory lately has the Elders capable of collecting the life force or energies of their victims.”
“Which leads one to assume,” Jonah adds, “that they’re targeting specific Magicals. For specific skills.”
“Exactly,” Karl says, leaning back in his chair.
No one has to look at me to let me know exactly why I’d be such a prize to capture and kill.
Over the next week, there’s a spat of Elder attacks on various planes, with one murder. Both Kellan and Jonah are sent out on missions, leading me into fretful frenzies over the possibility of them being targeted. Their power levels are the same, despite Kellan being Guard and Jonah Council. And if the Elders want power, they’d get it in spades when it comes to the two most powerful Emotionals alive.
I overhear Jonah arguing with Paavo one night in his side of the apartments about the need for me to stay in Annar. Paavo wants me out on a mission, just in case. “She’s a Destroyer!”
“She’s also our only Creator,” Jonah snaps in returns. “And I’d bet if you petitioned the Council for her presence on the missions, after what happened to her last time, they’ll laugh you out of chambers.”
“We could use her. You’re only saying no because she’s your fiancée!”
“Maybe if there were two Creators,” Jonah counters, “it wouldn’t be that big of a deal, but as there is only one, whether or not she’s my fiancée, she’s considered to be one of the top priorities of the Council. Unless it’s absolutely necessary for her abilities, and frankly, I’m not convinced right now that it is, Chloe stays in Annar.”
“Dammit, Whitecomb,” Paavo hollers, “don’t you understand—”
“I do! Of course I do! I’m out there on missions, too, in case you haven’t noticed! But there are many Emotionals right now. There’s only one Creator. If I fall, someone else will take my place. There’s nobody to take hers. Are you really willing to risk a Council without a Creator? Don’t you remember what happened before when that was the case?”
I press closer to the doorway separating our two apartments so I can hear better. I have no idea what Jonah’s referring to; as far as I know, there’s always been at least one Creator around.
“I know,” Paavo concedes. “It’s just, well, we could really use her.”
“I guess you’re stuck using the rest of us,” Jonah shoots back. “So go and do your job and figure out a way to effectively use what you’ve got.”
Of course I go to see Etienne and Maccon.
“There’s only been one recorded instance in which our society has been without a Creator,” my Storyteller friend muses over his addictive Elvin tea. “And it was a very ugly, dark time.”
“How so?” I ask.
“I tell you this as a friend,” Etienne says, getting up to close his office door. Mac pours us fresh cups. “And also because you’re first tier Council and you have the rights and clearance to demand such information. But you need to know it’s not for common knowledge.”
“Of course,” I assure him. By now, I’m dying of curiosity.
Etienne sits back down. “This was roughly six hundred years ago, which, if you remember from your studies, was during what was called the Dark Ages on many of the planes. Non-Magical histories all detail exactly why they believe civilizations descended into such unenlightenment, as well as various stages of squalor and chaos, but the truth is, there was no Creator living. The Council was without, the planes were without, and civilizations suffered for it.”
“Why was there no Creator?”
“He’d died,” Etienne says, stroking his chin thoughtfully. “And the records as to why are very unclear. Even I, as a Storyteller, couldn’t tell you the exact reason. There are innuendos it was murder, but there are also accounts of sickness.”
“What about the Elders?”
“The Elders weren’t up and running at that point,” Mac says.
“And sickness?” I ask. We don’t tend to get sick often, at least, not by infectious diseases.
“There are still some diseases that may strike a Magical and can prove to be fatal if a Shaman isn’t nearby to counter it.”
“But, if someone is on the Council, you’d think that access to healthcare—”
“Yes, peach. One would assume that. Thus the previous clarification that these are all rumors about Ulreath Twistershield’s death.”
“He was a Goblin,” I say, surprised. Goblins are tough and smart, exceedingly difficult to catch off guard.
Mac grins at my obvious compliment.
“Yes, and quite a powerful Creator to boot,” Etienne says. “His death was devastating for the Council and the different planes. It took well over a hundred years for another Creator to be born. Nature abhors a vacuum, plum.”
“So, all the chaos was due to the lack of existence rather than a lack of presence?”
He cocks his head at me. “What’s the difference?”
“I’m asking if things went badly because he was dead or simply not present in Council meetings.”