Author: bftowe

“How…er, how is the spell coming?” he asked uncomfortably.

“I know the incantation for the Turn Wood spell. The spell is intricate and requires many sprigs of Mistletoe,” Erinnia said. “It’s less than two weeks until shortest night. I’ll have to harvest then in order for the mistletoe to have greatest effectiveness.”

“We’ll help you,” Eyerthrein said eagerly.

Erinnia said, “Thanks! You can accompany me, but I have to do it myself.”

Eyerthrein looked into the trees and said, “Isn’t that mistletoe?”

“Yes. I’ve gathered some. The most powerful spells require the mistletoe be gathered on midsummer’s eve. We’ll be in the Lachinor then. There’s lots of mistletoe there,” Erinnia said happily.

“If I catch you standing under the mistletoe will you have to kiss me?” Eyerthrein asked.

She gave him a suspicious look and replied, “You’ll have to catch me first. Now I must get back to studying.”

“I have my spell book. Do you mind if I study with you?” Eyerthrein asked.

“Be my guest. Just behave,” she answered.

The master assassin smiled. His glee was short-lived.

Tigarn became apprehensive. He didn’t feel…right. Heaviness…horrible heaviness in his chest. Breathing…so difficult.

Tigarn didn’t understand Wishes. He was an assassin. He was not a sorcerer. He attained surrogate use of Magick through cunning and intelligence. He was not a sorcerer! He was one hundred and fifty- seven years old. He had already lived far beyond his generation. The casting of a Wish drained the powers of and forever weakened one empowered by Magick. The casting of a Wish demanded the life of one not empowered by Magick.

Tigarn died.

The Death of Magick vanished.

The Magick of the Wish…

Red lights!

Blue lights!

Within the dungeons of Red Mountain a purple glow enveloped the Chalice of Mystery!

Levimire was whisked from his lair!

Faranzer was whisked from his lair!

Hundreds of families were robbed of loved ones!

Items and artifacts of Magick disappeared from the areas housing them in this world and others!

Time was no barrier!

Things long dead and extinct were brought into play!

OETHFPPE!

The world of Donothor and many other worlds changed.

The consciousness of Uyrg stirred.

The door of Infernos slammed shut and locked.

“My wyvern cannot traverse the Gate without special protection. The spell that would protect him would require several amber periods- I’m sorry, three days- to prepare. I require a steed; a fast steed. I must go to the Lachinor,” Calaiz continued.

“My lord, there are much better places to visit in Donothor. Let me take you to Hillesdale, the center of the dwarves’ provinces. From there I will take you to Tippy Rarrie- we’ll catch some fish,” Mobbick suggested.

“I don’t come to Donothor for sport, my little friend. I appreciate your offer. I would very much like to go fishing with you one day. My task takes me a long way from Tippy Rarrie. Have you a war horse?” Calaiz asked.

Mel awakened.

He stretched and said, “I just had the most wonderful dream. I was dancing with a beautiful Gray Elf in a bar in Cam…”

“At ease, Mel! You are in the presence of our king’s ally, the lord of Ooranth. He has honored us with a visit. Will you go to the farrier and get the strongest horse in our stables?” Mobbick ordered.

“Yes, sergeant!” Mel answered sharply.

Soon the young Ranger returned with a magnificent gray stallion.

“Dann will carry you well. Old Roscoe, the sorcerer, rides this horse from time to time. The sorcerer says the name honors the memory of a very good friend. Roscoe always calls the horse he rides Dann; he calls the horse’s rear Boomer. We can ever let our lieutenant know that. It would cause a fight. Roscoe and Boomer have always been a bit at odds,” Mobbick continued.

Calaiz tolerated the dwarf’s small talk but didn’t understand the comments.

The Draith lord said, “Thank you.”

He walked over to the stunning animal and commented, “This is a beautiful animal. Its rear is a lot better looking than the old dwarf you call Boomer. I just met him at my home.”

“Whether she makes it to her world or not doesn’t really matter. The fact that she was afoot in their precious sanctuary should spur the Elders to action. We have scapegoats. We’ll say the dead guard and trog enabled her escape by stealing your wand. I’ll report the treachery of the guard to the council,” Orylan scoffed.

 

“She has escaped the prison area,” Phynne surely stated. “The wand’s Languages Spell has been activated. She can communicate, but she won’t find a willing ally.”

“She had no trouble ‘Charming’ the troglodyte! Why didn’t you anticipate that?” Orylan said chastising his comrade.

“She beguiled the beast! It was a feminine thing! It wasn’t Magick! I can’t anticipate that! I thought the beast would rip her apart!” Phynne said, defending himself as he ran.

“How do you know it wasn’t Magick?” Orylan panted.

“She had no wand. She uttered no words! She had no materials!” Phynne objected.

“Magick! We should rely more on the sword!” Orylan puffed as they reached an ally filled with activity.

“Relax! Your worries are for naught! We have her cornered. I’ll soon have my wand back,” Phynne said.

The leaders made their way through the crowd and reached an open door to a drying storeroom. Several of their soldiers lay dead. Others pummeled the stacks of leaves in the storeroom.

The prisoner was gone!

The “Charmed” troglodyte fought with tenacity and propose. The Centurion Orylan had been pressed to defeat the beast. His comrade the Counselor Phynne had been stunned when his head struck the floor. Orylan cleaned his sword and muttered, “The troglodyte’s ichors befoul my blade. She has escaped!”

Phynne straightened his robes and grumbled, “At least you didn’t feel the brunt of her blows and suffer the indignation of hitting the ground of this prison cell. There was quite a bit of risk in what we did! We have endured casualties.”

The carrion of the troglodyte lay in the cell, and the slain guard lay near the door to the cell.

Orylan urgently asked, “Will she be able to use the wand?”

“The wand’s Magick can only be accessed by using one of the proper commands. It carries the spells Invisibility, Fly, Detection of Magick, Dispel Magick, Protection from Magick, and Jolt. Thirteen charges remain on the device. Once the charges are expended, the wand is useless,” Phynne panted as they ran into the hallway.

“Not even I know the commands!” Orylan puffed as they rounded the counter and ran past the cell containing the frenzied troglodytes and reached the stairs.

“Few do! The commands are revealed to one only if he reaches maturity as a Maker, Counselor, or Elder,” Phynne answered, trying to reassure the angered Centurion.

“I never meant to release her onto the population! I only wanted to spur the Elders to action!” Orylan puffed.

Large numbers of soldiers ran from the barracks to the left.

“Whether she makes it to her world or not doesn’t really matter. The fact that she was here and afoot in their precious sanctuary should spur the Elders to action. We have a scapegoat. We’ll say the dead guard and trog enabled her escape by stealing your wand. I’ll report the treachery of the guard to the council,” Orylan scoffed.

Two more enemies charged into the storage room. Ravenna easily bested them with the short sword. She hazarded a look in the alley. The Greelve that escaped was talking to others of his ilk and more were arriving by the moment. She’d managed to handle them one or two at a time. Now they were organizing some attack. She was getting a bit tired. The elf ducked back into the storage shed and pushed a rack of dried plants in front of the door. She studied the wand. There were runes. Years ago, she saw runes of an old elfish dialect called Foreskorr on an ornate rod taken from a Greelve during a battle in Red Mountain. Was Foreskorr the native tongue of the Greelves?

She recalled the phrase that facilitated the use of the Red Mountain artifact. Perhaps it’d work again. She muttered, “Abe Linkin!” The wand felt warm. The phrase “Jams Mad Eye Son” appeared in her mind. She uttered the phrase. The wand seemed to meld with her hand. Commands in Foreskorr tongue appeared in her head. Many footsteps neared the battered door. Ravenna grasped the wand and uttered three phrases in the native tongue of the Vydaelians. The red-haired elf faded from sight. Pairs of Vydaelians poured through the door. The first pair had thick wooden shields before them. At least twenty rushed into the chamber. Ravenna had no difficulty slipping among them and exiting the storeroom. The alley was crowded with dozens of the greenish gray creatures, but Ravenna Nocerre slipped through them without being detected.

She slipped through the alley and made her way onto the pathway and proceeded along the seashore. She passed more buildings and many of the inhabitants. She observed green, grayish-green, yellow, snow-white, and multi hued citizens.

Without thinking she slammed her shoulder into the floor and forced it open. The storeroom was unoccupied. Odd dried plants were stacked to the ceiling and filled most of the thirty by thirty-foot room. The ceiling was made of the same woody material that made up the walls and doors. Peculiar that underground buildings require roofs.

Ravenna heard footsteps and shouts. She closed the door and jumped behind a stack of the dried plants. Shouts came from the alley. Two Greelves pushed the door open. Two twangs of the elf’s usurped bowstring ended their lives. Ravenna’s aim was unerring from the distance of twenty feet. Two more Greelves burst into the storeroom. Two more arrows, two more deaths…

She only had three more arrows. Another Greelve came through the door and stepped over his fallen comrades. Ravenna rushed toward him and parried his first blows. The elf gained eye contact with her opponent and purred, “Stop fighting! I’ll have to kill you! Wouldn’t you rather caress my hair?”

Her long red locks were l matted not very appealing at the moment. Her simple Charm Spell failed. She parried another blow and took the wand from her newfound quiver and said, “Abe Linkin.”  The phrase had empowered the scepter she had gained in the war against the giants. She tapped the Greelve with the wand. The wand emitted a spark when Ravenna touched him. The Greelve yelped and jumped backward. He turned and ran from the room.

“Not what I wanted!” Ravenna fumed.

Without thinking she slammed her shoulder into the floor and forced it open. The storeroom was unoccupied. Odd dried plants were stacked to the ceiling and filled most of the thirty by thirty-foot room. The ceiling was made of the same woody material that made up the walls and doors. Peculiar that underground buildings require roofs.

Ravenna heard footsteps and shouts. She closed the door and jumped behind a stack of the dried plants. Shouts came from the alley. Two Greelves pushed the door open. Two twangs of the elf’s usurped bowstring ended their lives. Ravenna’s aim was unerring from the distance of twenty feet. Two more Greelves burst into the storeroom. Two more arrows, two more deaths…

She only had three more arrows. Another Greelve came through the door and stepped over his fallen comrades. Ravenna rushed toward him and parried his first blows. The elf gained eye contact with her opponent and purred, “Stop fighting! I’ll have to kill you! Wouldn’t you rather caress my hair?”

Her long red locks were l matted not very appealing at the moment. Her simple Charm Spell failed. She parried another blow and took the wand from her newfound quiver and said, “Abe Linkin.”  The phrase had empowered the scepter she had gained in the war against the giants. She tapped the Greelve with the wand. The wand emitted a spark when Ravenna touched him. The Greelve yelped and jumped backward. He turned and ran from the room.

“Not what I wanted!” Ravenna fumed.

Ravenna had seen a tapestry in the chamber of their opponents in the dungeons of Red Mountain had depicted the underworld sea and the great city. But where was she? Her keen vision detected huge constructions to her left and many “Greelves.” Many looked like the individual that attacked her with the sword she now carried, only most were simply clad and milling about and performing tasks.

One of the inhabitants noted her and shouted, “Vydaelia is under attack! To arms!”

“Good grief! At least I know the name of this foul place,” she moaned as she descended the stair.

Running to the left was out. The Vydaelians were too many! She hit the bottom of the stairs running and sped to the right. Direction, even for an elf, was impossible to determine. Two Greelves impeded her briefly. They were no matches for Ravenna’s skills with the sword, and she quickly slew them. She took a quiver and bow from one of the guards and ran as fast as she could. Many shouts filled the air behind her. Ahead a group of buildings seemed less occupied. She endured a brief battle with another guard and again prevailed.

Ahead she saw other guards and other different appearing creatures. They all had similar appearances, but there were differences in their statures and the hues of their skin. There were obviously males and females. Most that she encountered as she ran from the prison were unarmed and fled from her. They were right to be afraid!

Time…she needed time. She saw an alley between two small buildings. Unlike the prison that was hewn from stone, most of the constructions she was running past were made of odd colored wood. It wasn’t really blue, but it made her think of the extremely resilient bluewood of the old trees of the Iron Mountains. She slipped between the buildings. The alley extended about twenty paces. There was a door on the right. Without thinking she slammed her shoulder into the floor and forced it open.

 

The well-lit passageway  extended sixty feet forward and ended. At fifty feet there was a passage to the right and at thirty feet a passage to the left. She heard thrashing behind her. Howls and growls typical of frenzied troglodytes came from the passage to the right at the end of the corridor.

“No reason to go that way!” she thought.

She moved largely on survival instinct, clutched the well-made sword in her right hand, and held the wand in the left. She ran around the corner. A passage extended forward for sixty feet. There were barred doors on both sides of the passage at thirty feet and at faintly lit opening at the end. Was she going to be fortunate enough to have a brightly lit moon to help her escape? She took a deep breath and ran down the hall.

She hazarded a glance into the two cells as she ran by. The large cell on the left was empty. The cell on the right contained a large number of troglodytes. Their chorus of howling voices and unmistakable stench suggested dozens. The howls obscured any sound behind her.

The elf ran from the prison onto a long stairwell, which dropped about fifty paces and ended on a large stone open area. There was neither moon nor sky! She was in an enormous cavern. Its ceiling was hundreds of feet above and illuminated. The light was equivalent to early dawn or twilight in Donothor. She heard the unmistakable sound of gently breaking waves. About a hundred paces beyond the end of the stairs was a huge sea with dark murky waters. Along the edge of the sea she could see a city that rivaled Lyndyn and Hillesdale in its dimensions. The prison was cut out of the walls of the cavern and a path twenty feet wide extended around the seashore and curved toward the great city.

Ravenna had seen a tapestry in the chamber of their opponents in the dungeons of Red Mountain that had depicted the underworld sea and the great city.