Month: July 2017

The heavily armed Drolls encountered thick underbrush and many defenders of the forest, but few Drelves. A solitary tree herder named Orange Julian met them by Lovill’s Creek, and the usually pristine waters rapidly filled with the Drolls’ dark ichors. The massive tree herder hurled boulders with its large branches and flailed wildly with its lower limbs. Kiennites fired many arrows into the tree herder but their missiles barely penetrated Orange Julian’s thick bark. Drolls attempted to get at Orange Julian’s trunk with their axes but the tree herder effectively swatted them away with its lower branches. Rambling bramble bushes, orange triffids, and shrinking violets assisted the tree herder.

Shrinking violets were very mobile little bushes with the ability to dramatically reduce their size. Some Drelvish scholars thought shrinking violets were really disguised tree sprites, but little evidence supported the hypothesis. Shrinking violets minimized, sneaked into the enemies’ ranks, removed arrows from quivers, loosened scabbards and pant ties, tied shoelaces together, crawled up enemies and scratched their eyes with little branches, and irritated enemies’ noses with pungent sulfurous oils. Droll and Kiennish warriors embroiled in battle and hand to hand combat found empty quivers, fallen swords, and dropped trousers. Wolf-faced warriors tripped over their shoes, found mote in their eyes when facing an enemy’s blade, and experienced the olfactory sensation of a large mooler passing gas after eating onyums and garlic beans. Shrinking violets were too few to sway the fray.

Xenn and Birney veered toward Sylvan Pond. Birney took gray berries, popped the skin on some of the thumbnail-sized fruits, and rubbed the pungent juice on Xenn and then himself to hide their scent. Once past the final Drelvish guard posts, they returned to the general direction of the Drolls’ tower. Twice the Drelves encountered Droll patrols. They followed the second patrol back to the recently constructed tower near the River Ornash. The brace of Drelves followed the noisy wolf-faced warriors without fear of being heard. Drolls oft sniffed the air, but grayberries grew commonly in the wood and the smell did not alarm the Drolls. The forest began to thin as they neared the river Ornash. Hiding became a greater challenge and then nigh impossible. Xenn and Birney hunkered down behind one of the last great red oaks standing in view of the tower. The massive tree’s trunk bore the scars of Drolls’ axes, but the warriors evidently tired of the process of chopping the tree down or else chose to leave a bit of shade. Numerous Drolls moved about the thinned forest. Most hewed small trees for firewood. Xenn stopped and removed an old clump of dark orange moss. The Spellweaver muttered phrases and Enlarged the moss. The young Spellweaver then threw the sheet of invisimoss over his shoulder, placed his arm around Birney, and stood close.

“I can still see you,” Birney exclaimed.

“Of course, you can. You’re inside the moss,” Xenn explained.

“Oh. The moss does feel good. It’s soft and warm,” Birney said as she awkwardly snuggled closer to Xenn.

The Drelves sneaked between remaining trees. The light period continued. They avoided passing near Drolls they saw working at various tasks. Drolls they passed turned up their noses and sniffed the air. Gray berries gave the scent of a skulunk passing a distance away. Skulunks were not Magick. They just smelled bad. Xenn and Birney stopped at the base of a large everyellow tree. The pair rested and munched on some delicious trail mix. The lingering odor of the gray berries depressed their appetites a bit, but the trail mix still was good. After a respite, they continued onward and nearer the River Ornash.

“Quick, get off the trail. Someone’s coming!” Birney whispered. The little Drelves slunk to the side of the path and sat beneath a bramble bush.

A huge Droll walked near them, stopped for a moment, sniffed, and looked all around. Invisimoss shielded them from the keen eyes of the sentries, and the gray berries disguised their essence form the guards’ keen noses.

Amica replied, “Don’t be so sure, noble warrior. Xenn saw his father’s throat ripped out by Drolls. Fire Magick touches him. I’ll leave you to your sleep, but heed well my words. The Council of Alms Glen has sometimes followed a path detrimental to your people. Were it not for the actions of the Fire Wizards Yannuvia and Kirrie, the Drolls and Kiennites would have razed this spot where your tree home stands long ago. They may yet do so, Ranger Birney.”

Blueness surrounded the image and the visage disappeared from Birney’s dream. The Ranger entered deep sleep. A tapping on his door awakened him.

Birney sat up on the edge of his rustic bed. Meries’ yellow light sneaked through the willing bark of his red oak home and reflected from several items lying on the little table near his bed. A gray crescent shaped stone and six perfectly round brown and white objects about the size of blue blooter eggs had appeared during his rest period. Birney walked to the table. Another tap on his tree stopped him.

Birney said, “Who’s there?”

Xenn answered, “Xenn.”

Birney replied, “Enter Spellweaver. You are always welcome in my home.”

Xenn passed through the tree’s bark and stood with Birney. Birney relayed his dream to the Spellweaver. Birney said, “These appeared while I slept. I was just going to check them.”

Xenn said, “Just a moment.” The Spellweaver muttered a lyrical incantation and directed his hands toward the items. All developed an aura of Grayness. The Spellweaver uttered a guttural incantation and again pointed toward the devices. The Spellweaver said, “Well, the stone radiates Magick. The round objects are hard to define. None of the items present an immediate threat. I sense no auras of evil. Are these eggs?”

Birney said, “In my dream, the visitor who identified herself as Kirrie, said these were the excrement of some creature called a Duoth.”

Xenn said, “It has no odor. I’m glad I didn’t touch it.”

Birney said, “She said it was weaponized.”

Xenn said, “I’m not the best student of the bestiary. But I can’t recall Duoth.”

Birney said, “Nor can I. She said the stone would have value to you and called it an Omega Stone. Quite honestly, Spellweaver, she intimated that I should use the device to tempt you to go along with an assault on the Drolls and Kiennites.  Should we touch it?”

Xenn replied, “Thank you for being up front with me, Ranger Birney. You were my father’s closest friend. I value your friendship, too. There’s nothing for it. I’m going to hold the Omega Stone.”

Xenn picked up and held the Omega Stone.

Amica pushed. Kirrie made ready. In a few moments, a soft cry rewarded the Dreamraider’s efforts. Kirrie performed the midwifery role admirably.

Kirrie said, “Well, congratulations, Mom, you are like us in many ways!”

Amica sighed and said, “Yes, the Wandmaker certainly knows so.”

The cries intensified.

Amica closed her eyes tightly and asked tentatively, “What… is it?”

Kirrie said, “It’s a beautiful nymph… uh, child… demonling… uh, whatever it is you have.”

Amica impatiently asked, “Come on, Kirrie, and is my child male or female?”

Kirrie said, “It’s… male.”

Amica took a deep breath and asked, “Is he OK?”

Kirrie said, “Rather robust little bloke! Seems hungry!”

Amica gave a sigh of relief and said, “Describe him. Does he look like… who does he favor?”

Kirrie answered, “Hard to say! He is beautiful. Hold him while I finish up.”

Kirrie expertly divided the umbilical cord and passed the babe to his mother. Amica opened her eyes, placed both hands around the infant, and held him on her flattening tummy. Lesser contractions followed. Kirrie attended the new mother’s needs and used the remainder of the smoky waters to cleanse. She briefly left Amica’s side to retrieve another bundle of door moss. She released it and the door moss scurried along the floor and cleansed the area thoroughly. The Dreamraider cuddled the small bundle. The crying stopped. Amica studied the babe. He had mostly Drelvish features, including orange-ish skin, fine silver-gray hair covering his smooth little head, and red-orange eyes. Two miniscule horns rose from his little head and a tiny tail with an innocent barb on its tip playfully swayed back and forth. Amica checked his tiny hands and feet and thankfully noted six fingers and toes. Normal! Thank Grayness! A tiny nodule sat at the base of the infant’s sixth left finger.

The Dreamraider murmured, “Like his daddy!”

Kirrie frowned.

The infant sneezed. His visage changed. The new look included pale skin, blue eyes, blond hair, and five fingers and toes. The little nodule sat at the base of the fifth left finger, but the little horns and tail were absent. A little burp produced another visage with fiery red skin, a longer tail, forearms ending in little talons, and smoke trickling from its little nose and backside. Amica placed him on her shoulder and comforted him. Her touch brought the little bloke back to his original form. Amica put the child to her breast and he received his first nourishment.

Yannuvia was born in the light of the Gray Wanderer Andreas. The erstwhile Spellweaver had drunk from the Cup of Dark Knowledge and tasted the Seventh Nectar. Mender’s blood had touched him.

Drelvish…

Menderish…

Spellweaverish…

Pointed-eared, ever so slightly greenish…

First Wandmaker…

Fire Wizard!

 

Yannuvia took the Wand of Flying, used the command “Run nailed ray gun,” and flew into the air. Unlike the battle with Fishtrap the Wandmaker now had an ample supply of sulfur. Carcharians rushed to the breach in their community’s wall with weapons. Yannuvia flew safely out of spear range and shouted, “Here I am, ********!” The taunted Carcharians hurled spears and curses at the Wandmaker. More gathered in the large exposed cavern.

The Wandmaker shouted, “For Morganne!”

He then conjured, crushed sulfur, uttered disturbing phrases in the language of the Omega Stones, and sent devastating blasts of blue flames into the gathered Carcharians. Massive explosions ripped through the room. No Carcharians survived.

Redness briefly filled Xenn’s sitting room. The redness dissipated and revealed a small bluewood table before the Kirrie-person. On the table, a minuscule vat sat over a tiny flame that flickered a myriad of colors. The transparent vat was not much larger than a tavern mug. Little rivulets of gray smoke rose from the tiny vat and produced light similar to the rays of the gray sun.

The Kirrie-person said, “Behold the Seventh Vessel.”

Unseen hands poured small quantities of liquids in the order lavender, uncolored, yellow, red, and green. The fluid in the vessel effervesced with the addition of the liquids. After the green liquid was added, unseen hands dropped ripened enhancing root tubers into the mixture. White, then yellow, red, green, and finally gray smoke briefly rose from the little vessel. When the gray smoke cleared, the fluid within the Seventh Vessel was perfectly clear.

She picked up the Seventh Vessel and said, “This is the Seventh Nectar. Drink it. Trust me, it’ll quench your thirst. You’ll feel stronger.”

The Spellweaver took the simple cup, turned it to his lips, and drank the Seventh Nectar. Xenn felt a force ripping at the very fabric of his essence. The Spellweaver briefly disappeared and sensed cold…nothingness?  Xenn reappeared, and then changed in color in the order translucent, brilliant yellow, red, green, snow-white, gray, and finally to an ever so faintly green tinged yellow-orange color.

Xenn asked, “Why am I greenish? You are Kirrie!”

She answered, “Part of the plan, Spellweaver. I’ve got to be going.”

The matron placed a blue tile on the floor and stepped onto it. Blueness flashed through the treehouse and the she-Drelve, Seventh Vessel, bluewood table, and blue tile disappeared. Words appeared in Xenn’s mind.

“I give you my blood through which you will receive all you seek. You in turn give to me your all.”

One by one the gemstones separated from the wall. Yannuvia followed her instructions explicitly and found his way into the grotto behind the falls. Strange red auras filled and warmed the grotto. A hulking form with eight legs and eight eyes appeared in the center of the grotto. Far uglier than its likeness on the cavern entryway, the creature stared directly at him with its two large red eyeballs and six smaller black eyeballs. Twelve feet tall, the bloated beast sported a barbed tail that dwarfed that of a fully-grown wyvern. Huge warty lumps covered the creature’s body and its gaping maw bared huge fangs. Two appendages were modified to form claws. Yannuvia ineffectively challenged the beast with weapons and spells, unsuccessfully sought escape and spells, accepted his hapless position, and finally conversed with the beast.

The beast disdainfully and fluently said in Drelvish tongue, “It took you long enough to get here. You are not of much account, young sorcerer. I don’t see what the Master sees in you, but I’ll present his gifts as he directed.”

Yannuvia angrily shouted, “No one is my Master. Who are you? What are you? What do you want? Again, if you mean to eat me, get on with it!”

The beast sighed, growled something about getting the worst assignments, and said, “I am Arachnis. I’m not a what! I would like some respect, but otherwise I want nothing. I’m here to give you the Master’s gifts, ingrate! Don’t you realize you’ve already received a boon?”

Yannuvia’s boon was the incantation for a fire spell. The phrases appeared in his mind when he touched the stones that gave him entry to the cavern.

He muttered aloud, “I don’t understand. It’s a spell. It’s…it’s a fire spell. The spell books of my forefathers have no such Magick. How?”

“It’s Magick, fool.

“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.

Birney listened intently and dispatched Tippy and a contingent of Rangers to watch the Gap to the north which led to Aulgmoor. In the cycles of Meries that followed the skirmish between the Drolls and Draiths, the Droll clans and Kiennish warrens augmented the garrison at the Gap Keep. Two Kiennish shamans accompanied a large force of Drolls to the River Ornash. The Kiennites supervised the construction of a bridge at Rorke’s Drift, a narrow expanse in the River Ornash near its headwaters. The Kiennites used rudimentary spells to reinforce the bridge. Drolls crossed over the bridge and built a guard tower. Kiennites brought a Hippogriff to the watch tower and placated the beast with its favorite food, horse meat. Kiennish warren leaders grudgingly gave up some stout stone ponies to feed the beast. Drolls on the wall walk of the watch tower kept eyes constantly on the River Ornash.  Ranger Tippy returned and reported to the Council of Alms Glen.

Elder Evelynn said, “Why’d Drolls and Kiennites employ a Hippogriff? Horses are important to both their societies. Hippogriffs prefer horse meat to anything else.”

Veteran Ranger Garland surmised, “They built a watch tower on the wrong side of the river. The Draiths won’t have to cross the river to attack them. Strange tactics.”

Sara Jane Rumsie added, “Such tactics imply they fear the River Ornash more than the Draiths.”

Xenn looked to Birney, but the Sergeant maintained his stoic gaze and silence.

Elder Evelynn asked, “Sergeant Birney, what are your thoughts?”

Birney icily answered, “We should destroy it.”

Xenn said, “Birney, the Drolls who killed my father and Narce are dead. They met terrible fates.”

Birney quizzically looked at Xenn and asked, “I thought you had little memory of the events surrounding Mikkal’s death. What have you recalled?”

Xenn looked about. The brace of Drelves were alone in the tree. Birney had sent the other Rangers to Alms Glen to tallow their participation in the festivities. The guard who accompanied Xenn waited at the base of the tree and Seeing his father’s best friend’s grief outweighed the Cloudmare’s request for anonymity. Xenn said, “I was doomed. My father and Narce lay dead. My puny spells did little more than infuriate the Drolls. They restrained me and made ready to carry me to my end. Then a river spirit fell upon them. A Dark Horse. The creature defeated and devoured the Drolls. Later a misty mare joined us. The Cloudmare carried me to Alms Glen with my father’s body. She spoke telepathically and swore me to secrecy. I don’t know why. I’ll ask the same of you. I just felt you had to know.”

Birney marveled, “The stuff of legend! Drolls fear the water. The Annals of Drelvedom tell of such creatures. They fought with our forebears against the greatest Kiennite General Saligia. What you’ve told me makes the Drolls’ retreating make sense. These creatures robbed me of my chance to exact revenge against the Droll that killed Mikkal, but there are many more Drolls. A fortress sits in the Gap in the Peaks of Division. The fortress teems with the wolf-faced killers and their Kiennish allies. I’m ready to risk the wrath of the Council of Alms Glen to go the Gap and slay Drolls.”

Xenn said, “You’d be following the path of the Lost Spellweaver Yannuvia.”

Birney made a little smirk and wryly said, “As do you, my young Fire Wizard.”