Author: bftowe

The image shimmered and changed to a young male a bit taller and stouter build than Xenn. The green robe expanded to accommodate his added height and weight. He was reddish and greenish at the same time and had pointed ears and vaguely Drelvish features. Little red sparks flickered from his eyes. The visitor spoke, “I ponder my mother’s interest in you, wimp. I grew tired of mimicking you. My name is Jar Dee Ans. I prefer Dee. You may call me Fire Master, Rat Master, or simply Master. I’m here at another’s behest to grant you gifts, though I don’t understand why. Words and phrases will appear in your mind. When you awaken, you will understand them. You’ll also find ample supply of the yellow granules you’ll need to foment the power of fire. I’ll leave you to your nap, Mama’s boy. Grow up! Maybe you’ll save someone dear to you one day. Personally, I doubt it. You are a t**d to my eyes.”

Blueness surrounded the young male and he faded from sight. Xenn returned to restless sleep. When Xenn awakened he found a small chest filled with sulfur granules. He removed a few granules and the chest refilled. Twenty-one phrases milled around like ripples in the tissues of the Spellweaver’s mind and then organized in orderly fashion. The phrases represented an incantation of a spell. His thoughts became clear. Words appeared in the young Spellweaver’s mind:

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

Inexplicable surges of strength raced through Xenn.

Rhiann Klarje concentrated on the Hanging Gardens, scattered a bit of the soil he had taken from the Snowberry Bush’s former home, and muttered a simple command. In an instant he stood in the main garden just a few feet away from Decima’s cottage. The startled ferret fled from the hole in the ground. Rhiann muttered a phrase and gestured as the ferret ran away. All the Detect Magick Spell told him was that the furry beast was indeed a familiar. A furry little spy! Rhiann followed the beast a bit. He reached into his ever-present rucksack and grasped Exeter’s hilt.

The soothing feminine voice entered his thoughts and said, “It’s a woodland creature, Rhiann. It’s not an enemy, but an extension of an enemy.”

Rhiann thought, “It’s a familiar! Whose familiar?”

The voice replied, “He’s more than thirty paces away, Rhiann, and I’m not privy to the nature of familiars.”

Rhiann thought, “Familiars are Magick, not Nature.”

The sorcerer watched it run toward the invisible bridge. The ferret scampered across Red Creek and headed off toward the woods to the west.

The redness cleared. A young orange skinned male stood with his back to Xenn. The visitor to Xenn’s dream wore a green robe identical to the artifact Xenn’s mother had found in Sylvan Pond.

Xenn spoke, “What trickery is this?”

The visitor turned and Xenn looked upon himself.

Xenn said, “Leave my sleep! Rest has eluded me.”

The visitor to his dream answered, “All in good time! Tell me… why do you not wear your robe?”

Xenn said, “Obviously, it’s green. I’d stand out in the forest like a sore thumb!”

The Dream visitor replied, “You stand out anyway. It’s a Robe of Sagain, you dumb ****** ******! Only a handful survive. It’s just hanging in your closet! S**t fire! You don’t know its value. A Light Sorceress seamstress constructed the robe from silk of Sagain, the feathers of the snow-white Phoenix, one of the three shypoke scales remaining in the Laurels, and the scales of a prismatic dragon. Moreover, the seamstress risked death as she tenuously placed a jet-black Tuscon feather within the fabric of the device. Once placed in the robe, the Magick of the robe harnessed the malevolent force within the jet-black feather and instead instilled a protection against Death Magick upon the wearer of the cloak. The robe is patterned like the ancient robe of the Order of Light Sorcerers. The properties of silk of Sagain included the facility to adapt to the size of each wearer of the garment. The Light Sorcerers cherished the spiders that created the silk. The tiny arachnids required two centuries to produce the silk needed to create the robe. The silk had been used to create little black dresses which had adorned many young women during their ceremonies of commitment. Even more rare were the adamantine spiders that created the slender cords that the sorceress used to bind the silk and other materials. The robe has many hidden pockets. It’d give great advantage in a conflict with another Spellcaster, and it hangs in your ****** closet!”

Xenn timidly said, “It’s green!”

The visitor replied, “Amazing! It contains a prismatic dragon scale within its folds! It can be any color you want! Its last wearer wanted green!”

Redness filled Zysle’s dream.

Out of the red mists a face entered his dream. Horrific and vaguely female, the creature had fiery red eyes, unsightly wings, and long muscular arms ending in long curved talons, which were covered in dark ichors. The strangely attractive creature pursed her lips, blew the sleeping Draith a kiss, and simply hissed, “Pleasant dreams, old fellow! How do you like these?”

The she-beast revealed long curvaceous legs.

“Who…what are you? Why do you invade my sleep?” Zysle asked.

 

Hearing one’s dreams and responding…

Speaking and hearing one’s dreams respond…

 

“My, you’re a simple ****!” the voice clamored.

“Rudeness! Why am I talking to you when I am sleeping? You are a sorceress, aren’t you? Though I cannot challenge you, I call you a coward! Face me when I can fight!” Zysle responded defiantly.

“Calm down! Calm down! Calm down, you son-of-a *****! I’ll kick your *** anytime, anywhere! But that’s not my purpose in being in your dreams. Is this picture easier for your simple mind?” the she-beast asked vehemently.

She changed to the precise image of Zysle’s long dead mate Loratideen. Every detail was accurate all the way to the individual strands of her hair.

As he slept, Zysle perspired heavily and moaned plaintively.

“You defile the memory of my mate. She fell to a giant’s club. My scouts are my life now. If you seek to influence me, find a way to advance their efforts,” his sleeping mind replied.

“You opine over your lost love. Pure ***** heat, that’s all she felt for you. Suffer as much as you will, *******!” she uttered disdainfully.

“Draiths are governed by commitment, not passion, harlot! Face me and say such things!” Zysle growled.

“You tempt me, old timer. I’ll give you that. At least you have some fight left in you. Our paths will not lead to battle, but I’ll do as you want and help your scouts. You’re not ready for everything that’s in the little bag. I’m taking the red and blue stone tiles and Fire Magick tome. But I’m leaving the black rod and stone of Ooranth. From one comes many. Tap the stone with the rod and say ‘Gorge dub you bush.’ You may keep the little glass orb that you fancied. It will save you from Magick. Just don’t drop and break it! I’ll also leave you a personal present. You’ll find my gift when you awaken,” the image answered in Loratideen’s voice. Quirk of Magick… the black rod’s command changed along with ownership. Intentional omission… the Dreamraider omitted many features of the powerful artifact.

Loyal eight-legged, eight-eyed Arachnis waited over seventy years. Finally, a flash of red light filled the cavern and heralded the return of his Master, the Demonlord Uyrg. His evilness arrived on the block of red stone. The Deceiver and Arachnis bowed humbly and greeted him. Arachnis gave his master a copy of the vellum allegedly written by the wanderer Confusious about the erstwhile Head of the Order of Dark Sorcerers Boton Klarje. The furious Demonlord cursed loudly and repeatedly!

“#@! *#!

“#@! *#!

“#@! *#!

“At least you did this well. Even I can’t tell it’s a forgery,” the Demonlord growled.

“Handwriting is one of my skills,” the bloated Arachnis bragged.

“Don’t flatter yourself. This document gives the wretched weakling Boton his deserved legacy. Cursed sorcerers! Cursed staves! Cursed gray lights!

“#@! *#!

“#@! *#!

“#@! *#!

“Cursed above all others, the winged wench! The Siren’s death doesn’t satisfy my anger! I wanted her to suffer more! First time I’ve been thwarted, even for a time! This world will pay dearly!” the Demonlord shrieked.

Mayard carried the Copper Mountain stone for years. Grayness and a female warrior visited his dreams and told him to merge a new discovery with the Copper Maintain stone. Mayard Klarje awakened and found a fist-sized red heart-shaped stone on the foot of his bed. The stone synchronously pulsed with his beating heart. Mayard removed the Copper Mountain stone from his Bag of Holding. True to his dream visitor’s word, red fluid oozed from a single sight on the gray-red rock. Mayard placed his lips onto the stone and drank deeply of the slightly bitter crimson liquid. Mayard felt warm, flushed, and suffered a slight headache. The symptoms soon passed. The rich red fluid satisfied his thirst and hunger. Mayard placed the newfound heartstone to the site from which the liquid flowed. Intense purple and gray auras filled the room. The larger Copper Mountain stone absorbed the smaller stone. The auras briefly changed to red and then grayness filled the room. Mayard Klarje uttered the Permanence Spell incantation and touched the site where the stones came together. The spirit of the stones guided Mayard to the swordsmith Roswell Kirkey at the Copper Mountain mines. Roswell forged the great blade Exeter from the merged stones. Exeter appeared as a well-made longsword, with a hilt formed of a reddish black material and a golden blade. The hilt of the weapon retained the reddish color. No runes appeared upon the weapon and no gems adorned the hilt.  Exeter’s beauty was in her simplicity. Mayard Klarje never held Exeter. His nephew Rhiann traveled in Mayard’s guise and took possession of the blade. Exeter’s feminine warrior spirit communicated telepathically to young Rhiann, “I must have some secrets. Suffice it to say, I’m a sister of Grayness. The greatest mages will not understand the Magick that empowers me. My voice will appear in the mind of my wielder, but only when he grasps my hilt. I’m sympathetic and empathetic. I feel both the physical and mental wounds received by the person grasping my hilt. I’ll do all I can to save my wielder from falling in battle. I sense enemies within thirty paces and determine the enemy that poses the greatest threat. I’ll save my bearer and serve as a companion during dark, cold, lonely, and forsaken times.”

Elder Evelynn shared her extensive knowledge of the diverse flora and told of flesh-eating plants, unfriendly walkabouts, exploding peashooters, grab grass, walkabout bushes, orange Triffids, pyrocanthas, Tree Herders, venous fly traps, tetra-berry bushes, booderry bushes, milk trees, and walkabout bushes. When the elusive walkabout plants sensed an examiner nearby, they uprooted and walked about. Displacer plants were tricky also. The actual plant was either a pace to the left, right, front, or rear of where it appeared to be, and its auburn thorns were quite hostile. Peashooters fired projectiles from their stems that stung intruders. But most of the flora was friendly. The contrary plants served the purpose of educating the unwary of the intricacies of the forests. Orange triffids helped the youths in their horticultural studies. Xenn began classes with nymphs of the same age. Xenn learned of creatures such as wyverns, Baxcats, lee cats, Leicats, griffons, griffins, griphins, gryphons, hamadryads, humming birds, pi rannas, leprechauns, Manticores, medusas, dragons of various colors, nagas, troglodytes, Pegasi of various colors, satyrs, dryads, Minotaurs, pixies, sasquatch, trolls, wyrms, wyverns, sirens, huldra, chimeras, sphinxes, banshee, boogie men, bogeymen, brownies, centaurs, hippogriffs, Dobies, Efreet, fauns, fawns, foans, sprites, adherers, shape changers, doppelgangers, and other fanciful ilk.

At the beginning of the Xenn’s seventh year, the Teacher Boyd called him to the Old Orange Spruce.

Soon the others settled down.  The priestess and the thief sat opposite each other on old stumps as their party fell off to sleep.  Roscoe was asleep immediately.  Most of the rangers were filled with an uneasiness centered on the cloaked comrade, but eventually even the most suspicious Deron wandered into his dreams.  Fate, or perhaps good thinking, placed Eomore’s pallet near Cara.  He fell asleep with the last thing his weary eyes saw being the deep green eyes of the elf gazing at him.  There were nice things even in the wilderness.  Vannelei also quickly fell asleep.  The noble elf had been through two serious wounds recently and his weary mind took control of his body.  He fell asleep wondering again about the mysterious dark elven female – why did she seem so familiar?

The time flowed slowly for the two guards.  Nigel produced a large bladed knife from his back and began to whittle on a piece of wood.  He looked over to Knarra.  He finally said, “I guess it must be pretty lonely at the top, huh?”

The comprehensive eyes of the priestess studied him.  “What do you mean, Nigel?”

“You know, you have to spend all your time doing good deeds for lowlifes like us.  You don’t have time for yourself.”

She replied, “No, I have many diversions, Nigel, and I don’t grow weary of trying to help others.  Is that what you mean?”

“Well, not exactly, I guess what I’m trying to ask is, don’t you ever miss not having a man?” the thief smiled, thinking that he flustered the holy woman with that one.

“I have never taken a vow of celibacy, Nigel.  There is a place in everyone’s life for physical love as well as emotional love.  I care about my people, but I have never ignored my own needs,” she answered without ever taking her eyes off the man.

Nigel found himself without the words for one of the few times in his life.  Knarra again broke the silence by saying, “You lead a lonely life yourself from what I have gathered.”

“I do okay,” came the terse answer.

In this chest, there is a supply of adamantine, a never-empty vessel of the waters of fire Lake, three clear Xennic Gemstones, and a number of brilliant stones. The stones are taken from the depths of Fire Lake. They are the 1/13^th the size of an Omega Stone.”

Phyrris asked, “What does each stone do?”

Kirrie replied, “They will tell you. Effects are additive.”

Phyrris asked, “What do these gifts cost me?”

Kirrie eased over to the Spellweaver, gently rubbed his red-streaked silver hair, and kissed his cheek. “That for one thing. You’ll see when we return.”

Phyrris asked, “Are there more stones in the lake?”

Kirrie said, “I really don’t know… I haven’t checked the waters.”

Phyrris said, “If the lake is Fire Magick, its waters will not harm me.!” The young Spellweaver dropped Kirrie’s hand, slipped off his robe, and approached the water.

Kirrie said, “Wait! No! I don’t know what will happen!”

Her warning came too late. Phyrris jumped through the flickering flames into the water. He reappeared on the surface a moment later and shouted, “Come on in. The water’s fine!”

Kirrie was disinclined to acquiesce to his request. The Spellweaver swam ashore. His hair changed to fiery red and flames now flickered in his eyes. He said, “I feel great! I also found four more Xennic Gemstones.” He opened his hand and revealed a clear, red, yellow, and green stone. The Spellweaver walked over and kissed Kirrie firmly on the lips. She withdrew from him… then said, “What the heck! You’re very pretty!” and threw her arms around him and kissed him passionately.

Drops of dark red liquid appeared on the surface of the new stone. Were it orange instead of red, the liquid would have likened to Drelves’ blood. 13 drops of red fluid dripped to the floor. When the thirteenth drop struck the floor a flash of grayness filled the room.

A tall figure wearing a robe and cowl towered over the Drelves. Fathomless eyes peered out from the cowl, which covered most of his face. The tall figure before them pulled back his dark cowl and stared at the brace of Drelves in the confines of the massive Old Orange Spruce. Long auburn hair flowed down his back and deep blue eyes peered from beneath his long brows.

Agrarian stammered, “Who… who are you? Why are you here?”

The figure coolly said, “You will not recall my face after this encounter. To the point of my being here… you called me.”

Agrarian asked, “How… what do you mean, we called you?”

The tall figure answered, “The four elemental stones and the ichor of the Bloodstone fragment summoned me to this place. The power of the Windward Staves brought me. Let me first say to you, young Wizard. Magick touches you. Its touch is not always gentle and the power it bestows has consumed many a sorcerer. Be wary, particularly should the gray sun draw near. In those times Magick’s touch mimics the Grasping Hand dweomer. Use your powers carefully. My vision extends far beyond Uragh Wood. Every step you take, every move you make, I’ll be watching you. The visitor calmly said, “I thank the Staves of the Four Winds, the Windward Staves, children of the Bloodstone, the Source of Magick. Release the Bloodstone fragment.”

The robed figure moved his hands slowly from side to side. Three staffs appeared and hovered by his left flank.