Author: bftowe

The Spellweaver refused to partake of the Council’s meal of fruits of the forest, returned to the forge, worked through the next Amber Period, and returned to his red oak home. On the way a hare crossed his path. Phyrris zapped the beast with a Magick Missile. He preserved some of the hare’s blood to use in Haste Spells and then roasted the coney with a Fire Spell. The beast provided a hearty meal. Phyrris found he was less satisfied with fruits and vegetables and had grown fond of meat. He enjoyed his repasts most often in the solitude of his home. The tired Spellweaver slipped off his raiment and settled down into his soft bed. His mind returned to his travel in the red and blue light with the sultry Kirrie. He pondered the gift of the forge. Then thoughts of the Council’s suspicions angered him. He remembered the Tree Shepherd’s contempt of Fire Magick. The Tree Shepherd had not felt the comfort of the waters of Fire Lake. Phyrris snapped his left thumb and third finger. Little sparks flew from his digits. He rubbed his thumb and index finger muttered his name “Phyrris” and produced a small flame at the tip of his finger. “Fire” felt warm. Pleasant smoke billowed from the little flame. He remembered Kirrie’s warmth and softness. His younger brother and fellow Spellweaver Aergin’s progress pleased him. The Spellweaver extinguished the flame by uttering the old Drelvish word for water “Purya.” Phyrris closed his eyes and breathed deeply. The smoky air brought back memories of Fire Lake and Kirrie. He found sleep.

Some three Dark Periods after the forge appeared, Phyrris walked alone to the forge. A flash of redness surrounded the forge. A feminine form appeared.

Kirrie said, “Hello Spellweaver. Have you been swimming lately?”

The matronly she-Drelve held a wrapped bundle in her arms. Phyrris’s mouth gaped. Kirrie moved the blanket and revealed a beautiful infant. The child had light orange skin and silver hair with streaks of red. The infant smiled. Phyrris felt the power of an Empathy Spell.

Phyrris gawked, “Who… what… when… how…”

Kirrie said, “Some deeds have consequences, Spellweaver. Her name is Jodie. She is mine… and yours. She is, as far as I know, the first spawn of two Fire Wizards. Her father is Spellweaver. Her mother is Spellweaverish. Though she was not born during an Approximation, Magick touches her. She is Spellweaver. A copy of the spell book appeared by her basinet.

The Gifts of Andreas to the People of the Forest

LARLS

A&W

Phyrris said, “This… has never happened before.”

Kirrie replied, “There’s a first time for everything. Would you like to hold your daughter?”

Morlecainen sent Fange out to gather some thick yellow sap. The Ogre returned with an ample supply. Morlecainen used a Heat Spell to separate the Ogre’s six digits on the hand that gathered the amber sap.

The grateful Fange insisted that his master gorge on fresh meat he gathered from the Lachinor to “keep up his strength.”

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.

The sorcerer smiled at this early success. He tried longer distances. Most of the trials were successful, but one attempt landed the unfortunate goblin in the great river, where the hapless creature drowned and washed away to the sea.

A massive red Fire Dragon sat in the southwest corner. It appeared to be asleep.

Roscoe peered through the prism. He told what they already suspected.

“Auras of Magick fill this room. The brilliant light speaks to this. The greatest auras come from the area where the dragon sits. I can’t define…” Roscoe was interrupted when the dragon spoke.

“Well, well, well…what have we here? I’ve enjoyed a long nap! From the growth of my talons and fangs and the energy I feel, I would guess about eight hundred years. I’m hungry. Would you join me to be my dinner? Your…your essence is familiar. Ah…I have, or had, empathy with my sister Baylexa. You are the scum that ended her beautiful reign of evil. At least, some of you are. You look well for your age! Wait, you have elves! I love the taste of elves! Thanks, Tigarn! This is far more than you promised. You have nowhere to run! Nowhere to hide! Nowhere to run to! If you don’t fight, you won’t suffer so much!” Faranzer said.

The dragon spoke in old elfish dialect.

“Neither do you!” Dael shouted.

The young sorcerer impatiently cast a Lightning Bolt toward the old red Fire Dragon.

“If I’m going to take a terrible beating, I’m going to get in the first lick!” Cyttia shouted.

She began to conjure.

The jagged Bolt of Lightning left Dael’s hand and coursed toward Faranzer. About ten feet from the gloating beast the bolt stopped!  Shimmering luminosity extended around the massive Red Fire Dragon. There was a sound of recoil and the bolt instantly returned to Dael striking the neophyte sorcerer squarely. Dael screamed, fell forcefully backward, slammed into the wall behind them, and dropped to the floor. Gray smoke rose from his fallen body.

Dael was unconscious and near death!

“Stop your spell, Cyttia!” Cara shouted.

“He’s covered by a Reflecting Dome,” Knarra added. “Your spell will reflect!”

For many generations ancient Menders lived among the other peoples and exchanged their talents for sustenance.  In the World of the Three Suns, only the snow-white skinned people possessed unique healing abilities.

Fisher had served Saligia’s father Dydracks and Grandfather Wort. The Mender had treated Saligia for many infirmities. The pale healer neither aged nor changed. Lore held all Menders looked and acted the same. The healers were totally neutral…what an odd alignment! Menders didn’t cast spells. Menders combined Nature’s ingredients and created Magick remedies. Neither Kiennish shamans nor Drelvish elders and ultra rare Spellweavers understood Menders’ talents.

Did Menders belong to Nature, Magick, both, or neither?

The pale healers commanded great knowledge of natural and herbal remedies. For instance, Fisher’s sleep poultice contained thirteen herbs and spices. Specifically, valerian root, dream fruit, passionless fruit, booderries, byneberries, melon toning, butter fly, slumber berry, nodding ham, kava kava, lavender, rose petals, and a live cricket. The identity of the ingredients was commonplace knowledge. Only Menders knew the secret of mixing the ingredients and creating the cataplasm.Fisher typified the ultra rare Menders. Given the opportunity, a Mender healed a warrior and then the warrior’s enemy. Mender’s nature precluded haughty eyes, a lying tongue, hands that shed innocent blood, feet swift to run into mischief, deceitful witness that uttered lies, and sowing discord among brethren. Menders were neither loyal nor disloyal. Menders did not display lust, gluttony, greed, sloth, wrath, envy, and pride. Likewise Menders did not show signs of chastity, temperance, charity, diligence, patience, kindness, and humility. Menders did not seek adultery, fornication, uncleanness, lasciviousness, idolatry, witchcraft, hatred, variance, emulations, wrath, strife, seditions, heresies, envying, murders, drunkenness, revelings, “and such things.”

Menders understood mending.

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.