Month: June 2017

It seemed like an eternity before the large double door to the kitchen swung open and the servers came forward with the food for the weary travelers. There was a large roasted bird, an ample fruit and vegetable platter, and of course, more ale. The barmaid carrying the ale immediately caught Eomore’s eye. She was elven – and exceptionally pretty. But then again it had been almost five weeks since the prince had really looked upon the fair sex. Still, her deep green eyes seared to sparkle and they seemed to reflect every candle in the dining hall. Her hair was long and flowing and was the same hue as a ripening field of grain. She exhibited the typical elven physique, and she moved with the gracefulness of the fair people. The simple brown serving dress revealed her alluring femininity.

The older matron referred to her as Cara, a lovely name to go with a lovely face, thought Eomore.

The boy came to the Old Sorcerer’s Keep on the slopes of Mt. Airie to avenge his father. Strong in Magick, the youth did not fear death and Dark Sorcerers. Surprise and treachery betrayed his father but allied with him. He was not limited to Light Sorcery, the protective Magick of his father. Since early childhood he learned Dark Sorcery, the destructive Magick of his mother. The unsuspecting Clopidrel Kreuseul never knew that his spouse Meredith Farrier was a Dark Sorcerer, and her family name was Klarje. Meredith shared her life-mate’s compassion for Sagain and its people and never openly practiced her skills of Dark Sorcery, but the blood of Boton flowed through her and her progeny. The enhancements that Boton achieved were passed on to his progeny. The blood of Boton flowed through the boy’s veins. Meredith Klarje Kreuseul feared for her son, informed him of his true lineage, and taught her son. She hoped he might use all aspects of Magick for the betterment of Sagain. Being the first offspring of a Light and Dark Sorcerer, the boy’s essence was neither Dark nor Light. He and his mother kept secret his dominant attributes of Dark Sorcery.

When she learned of her kind spouse’s death, Meredith called her son to her and said, “Whatever I feared has come to pass. The person responsible for your father’s murder has stolen things from his study. The most powerful Magick of Sagain lies in the hand of the enemy. Take your father’s staff Pleione, his robe of the Order of Light Sorcerers, and this record of our family’s ancient history. They’re as unique as you, my son. You’d best keep our lineage to yourself. I don’t know where your path will lead you, but anywhere may be better than where we stand. Make good use of the skills that I have taught you.”

She arrived just after the sun reached the highest point in the sky. She was wearing a brilliant red dress. It accentuated the darkness of her hair and eyes. Areniel sighed. She stepped into the meadow and uttered a few phrases that he could not understand. A small purplish cloud appeared and covered the flowers of the meadow. The cloud dissipated; the flowers of the meadow were colored with the purplish hue. She smiled broadly.

Areniel stepped forward. He was no longer hidden by the foliage. The maiden stood and was alert. She stared at the Gray Elf and started to conjure. Areniel looked directly into her eyes and did nothing. The maiden interrupted the spell and directed her eyes into his. The two stood motionlessly; neither said anything. Areniel took a step forward; so did she. They stood twenty feet apart.

“Why do you watch me? Who are you?” Theandra asked.

“I am but a simple servant of the forest. I am but a grateful observer of your Magick. I am clay in your hands; I am your pawn,” the Gray Elf warrior answered.

“Why should I not destroy you for spying upon the lands of my father?” she asked.

“I would not resist your efforts if you choose to do so. I can no longer watch you without revealing myself. I have never beheld such beauty or fairness. I will comply with any wishes that you impart to me. I am a candle and you are the flame. I have lived all my life in the darkness and you are the light that I have seen for the first time. I have lived no life until I first saw you. Since my eyes first beheld you, all I need is the air that I breathe and to love you. I am at your mercy,”Areniel replied.

The Gray Elf lay down his bow and short sword. He stood helpless before the raven-haired maiden.

Theandra kept her index finger pointed in the direction of the mesmerized Gray Elf.

Morlecainen said to the Ogre Fange,” Bring me a goblin, one that is scrawny and rather worthless.”

The Dark Elf Prince Lexx was standing nearby and said, “All goblins are scrawny and rather worthless.”

Soon Fange returned with a goblin that would have been thought homely even by other Goblins. Lexx watched curiously.

“Stand here!” Morlecainen commanded the gawky creature.

The sorcerer had concocted a thick horribly sticky unguent based on the amber sap. Ingredients that the sorcerer added changed the dark yellow sap to a deep violet hue. He applied a small quantity of the salve to the tattered foul-smelling raiment of the shivering swamp goblin, tacked the garment down to the beast’s shoulder, and conjured. A brief flash of light appeared. The goblin and his clothes disappeared.

Lexx stared inquisitively and asked, “Where did he go?”

“Check the courtyard,” Morlecainen instructed.

Lexx found the bewildered goblin standing among the flowers of the courtyard. The goblin seemed none the worse for the wear and scratched the area of his shoulder where the unguent had been applied. Inspection revealed a mild rash. Lexx retrieved the vermin and returned to the anxiously waiting Morlecainen.

“I’ll do so,” Morganne answered and realized she continued to grasp both the Spellweaver’s hands. The Teacher blushed and said, “I’m sorry, Gaelyss, I didn’t mean to…my emotions took over…I…”

“It’s OK, Morganne. I mean…Teacher. I rather enjoyed your touch. If you don’t mind, I’d fancy another kiss. Perhaps just a bit longer,” Gaelyss awkwardly requested.

“My…pleasure,” she responded.

She tenderly placed her soft orange lips against his and let them linger for a while. Gaelyss felt warm. Morganne gently stroked his long orange yellow hair and then softly brushed her long fingers across his smooth face. Without speaking, she smiled, turned and walked through the soft thick bark of the Spellweaver’s home tree.

Sad eyes watched Morganne leave the tree. An iridescent tear trickled down Kirrie’s cheek as she saw the new Teacher depart. The little she-Drelve had carried warm compote of booderries and passionless fruit as a snack for Gaelyss. Instead she saw Morganne enter the Spellweaver’s dwelling and waited outside. Kirrie mustered her strength and watched her older rival, now the Teacher of the Drelves walk away. Undaunted Kirrie left her hiding place and went to Gaelyss’s tree. Softly she knocked on the tree.

From within Gaelyss said, “Did you forget something?”

Fighting back tears, Kirrie said, “May I enter?”

Gaelyss stammered, “Oh, yes. Yes, Kirrie, please come in.”

Kirrie passed through the thick bark of the red oak and saw the Spellweaver seated on the mossy floor of the anteroom of his tree home. The spell book sat closed on the small table in the room. The she-Drelve’s keen nose detected the lingering pleasant fragrance left by Morganne’s body oils.

 

Several seven-foot tall wolf-faced beasts came into view. The Drolls were sniffing loudly, looking all around, and detected the Drelves’ party. A gaunt creature in their midst reminded Morlecainen of an undernourished Goblin. A humming of bowstrings produced a chorus of howls from the front rank of the advancing Drolls. Two fell lifelessly to the ground. Wounds only angered others. The Kiennite raised a wand and muttered garbled phrases. Flames came from the end of the device and struck the Drelvish lookout, who fell screaming from the tree. One of the Drelvish swordsman shouted and charged the Kiennite. Six Drolls were in position to intercept the suicidal Drelve. The blade of the charging Drelve’s sword emitted a greenish glow in the amber light. The first Droll struck him with a heavy blow and opened a deep wound on his shoulder.

“That’s a mortal wound,” Morlecainen surmised.

The Drelve shouted and returned the attack. His blade sank deeply into the towering Droll’s side. The blade’s glow deepened, and the angry wound on the Drelve’s shoulder closed. The huge Droll fell to the ground. The Kiennite pointed his wand in the direction of the charging Drelve. A ray of white heat struck the small warrior and knocked him to the ground. The air filled with the smell of burning flesh. The Drelve staggered to his feet and faced two more Drolls that had reached him. the first Droll thrust a huge blade into the Drelve’s chest.  The four-foot tall warrior ignored his wounds, persisted in his attacks, and slew the first Droll with an upward stab into his chest.  The Drelve’s ugly wounds disappeared again, and he turned to face the second Droll. The huge wolf-faced warrior also fell to the blade. The Drelve was now about thirty paces from the Kiennite. Spellweaver Purya pointed his wand toward the Drolls on the right side of the clearing.  A Fire Spell enveloped and smote twenty Drolls.

Invisible Morlecainen said to himself’ “I can’t be left out of this.”

He raised his staff and shouted a command. A lightning bolt left the end of the staff and killed the Kiennite.

. Four huge wolf-faced creatures accosted the young Drelves.

“A Droll raiding party!” the Teacher exclaimed.

A small Drelve Ranger charged into the fray with his short sword drawn. The Drolls seemed amused, but their mirth only lasted a moment. The Drelve moved with blinding speed and slashed the life from the nearest Droll. The blade easily penetrated the beast’s thick hide. The three remaining Drolls descended upon the Drelve defender, and the fight was over soon. The Drolls fell before the sword in short order. The seven-foot-tall beasts had no chance against their four-foot-tall outnumbered opponent.

When it was over, Morlecainen went over to the defender and said, “I thought you were doomed, but you defeated them easily before I had time to help.”

The young Drelve smiled and said, “I owe my survival to the blade. This is the work of our Spellweaver ‘Fire.’ He imparts speed to the blade.”

Camille Aires surveyed the motley lot crowded in her abode. The older version of Kirrie, cherubic merchant Cupid, shy young lad Sean, svelte female Sidheag, stout little bloke Oilill, and misty equine shifted positions from time to time, but Kirrie and the inquisitive cherub stayed nearest Camille and asked many questions. The current Teacher of the Drelves accepted the return of her presumed dead predecessor. She cleared her throat and continued, “Our scouts have noted battles between Drolls and other forces. We’ve glimpsed bronze-skinned warriors as tall as the wolf-faced Drolls.”

Kirrie interjected, “I saw such creatures battling Drolls in the western woods before my mishap. The wyvern rider that attacked me had far greater skill than his predecessor that attacked us during the battle when we lost the Lone Oak. Regarding our casualties, who have we lost?”

The sorcerer applied a quantity of the amber tree unguent to his shoulder, left hand, bow and quiver, and lastly to his precious staff. He could not risk traveling without the staff. He inhaled again deeply and then exhaled the last of the green smoke from his lungs.

Morlecainen then said succinctly, “Go now. Leave here and be there. The return command is ‘Return to Ylysis’.”

Excruciating pain coursed through his body. His head throbbed. He sensed a passage of great distance and saw surreal images of the Room of Sorcery, Castle Ylysis, the swamp, the great River Luumic, the mist-shrouded forests, mountains, and lastly a large castle made of dark gray stone. The journey seemed to last forever, but the fact that the position of the single small yellow sun did not change in the sky made Morlecainen realize that no appreciable amount of time had actually passed. In a few hundred heartbeats, he had experienced enough pain to last the changing of a season.

Farinx reported, “The smaller pale creature evaded three giants and was attempting to steal away into the darkness. He wore these odd eye covers and moved about in the darkness. We watched him placing things in this little bag. He stuck objects much larger than the opening to the bag inside the sack. Objects got smaller when he touched them to the sack, and the bag’s shape did not change when he put large objects into it.”

Droger interrupted, “Magick!”

Farinx continued, “Yes, my liege. The small brown bag is made from the hide of some small animal. The bag of conceals its contents and weighs little. I peeked inside the bag and saw other items. It contains small squares of the odd blue and red stone. I did not reach into the bag.”

Luzu quipped, “Are you afraid, brave Farinx?”

Droger growled, “Enough insolence! Wisdom, not fear, predicated Master Scout Farinx’s action!”

Voices of approval echoed the leader’s opinion. Young Luzu gulped.

Zysle interjected, “We’re Draiths! Stay calm! Discipline! Control your actions! Continue Farinx.”

Farinx glowered at Luzu and said, “I’ll see you in the arena anytime, spawn!”

Droger said, “Generations of our ilk lived without facing the ****** Grayness! Now it’s with us! **** Magick! Best left to Kiennite scum and insignificant forest people! Cursed gray light! That Magick lurks in the realm of our enemies the giants chagrins me, but I want nothing to do with that sack of ****!”

Farinx moved a torch toward the little bag.

Zysle stood and suggested, “My liege, the bloke who carried the Magick sack no longer draws breath. Where did he come from and why was he walking among the giants? I share your contempt for the gray light and all it renders, but we should study the contents of this bag.”

Zysle took the finely made bag and retired to his austere chambers. The bag was nigh weightless.

Odd sounds came from the bag.