Author: bftowe

“I told Gruggle he was too old to fight Draiths. He should have stayed with the females,” growled the giant who had checked Ubough’s hiding place.

“Fenytek, you know as well as I do that King Krable has pressed everyone into service. In case you didn’t notice, we just got our butts kicked out there!” the third giant muttered.

“Topmacks! You blowhard! We might have fared better had you fomented a better plan! They baited us! And we fell for it! You ordered us to charge into three of ‘em! Thirty others were just waitin’!” the kneeling giant growled.

“If I wanted your opinion, I would give it to you, Tegrah Tall! Your name belies your deeds. It’s only the luck of having tall parents that makes you a half a finger taller than anyone else. You should have been called the teller of tall tales,” Fenytek growled.

Tegrah the Tall harrumphed, “I’m glad it’s you, Fenytek, and not I, who must inform King Krable of this debacle. With old Gruggle’s demise, we’ve now lost eight on this foray! You jest at my height, but were you not old Krable’s spawn, you’d not be in command.”

The third giant Topmacks raised a thick furry sixth finger and shushed his quarreling comrades. He said, “We may have been followed!”

The commander Fenytek chided, “You old fool! You are older than this pile of rubbish lying before us! Draiths can’t descend into the depths. They can’t see in the dark. Their torches can’t reach these depths! As far as our ‘debacle’ goes, I have learned the location of their females and young. Yes, we lost a few comrades, but we learned much in return. So Krable, my father, will laud my efforts. Now, if both of you will grovel before me, I’ll forgive your impudence and impotence in battle. I might even give you a bigger ration of ale. You may start begging now.”

Topmacks and Tegrah the Tall sighed and then whimpered together.

“I’m sorry, boss,” Tegrah the Tall, whined.

“I’m sorry, too, boss,” Topmacks chimed in.

“That’s more like it,” Fenytek gloated.

Piara said, “I don’t understand. There are only two identical stones. This effect required three activated Omega Stones.”

Inyra muttered in gibberish speech, “I see your Mind’s image of the Omega Stones. These are not Omega Stones. But more than that… I see… everything you have said is true. Your baby’s father is… the leader of Vydaelia! Your other child is the spawn of the liege of Doug-less! Piara of Elder Ridge, you do get around!”

Nila quizzically asked, “What are you saying?”

Piara replied, “I understand you. Two Omega Stones empower communication in an old dialect and compel the truth. Three Omega Stones enable the bearers to look into each other’s mind. We never discovered the effect of four and five stones, and I never knew of more than five of them together. Now the Twin Stone ‘speaks’ to me. The Twin Stones mimic ALL effects created by multiple Omega Stones. Nothing special happens with four. Five stones produce a Protection from Magick effect. Six and seven do nothing special. Eight Stones effect enables Continual Light. I don’t know what that means. No added effect from nine, ten, eleven or twelve Omega Stones, but thirteen stones produces Time Saving Effect. Time will remain constant when passing between realms. 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, and 20 do nothing more. 21 Omega Stones will irreversibly form into a Xennic Stone. Xennic Stones helped the Gray Matron create UK. 88 revolve in the geodesic dome in Vydaelia.”

Thd redness cleared and an image formed. Kirrie sat upon a wyvern.

Yannuvia muttered, “Drop the illusion. That ship sailed long ago. Kirrie chose my brother Gaelyss over me. Are you going to press guilt upon me over our venture?”

Kirrie spoke, “My… you have been busy, Wandmaker? Do you like the title? Are you a big fish in a small pond? Are you enjoying your whore from Meadowsweet? Think of the Lone Oak, The Invisimoss, Sergeant Major Rumsie, cleaning boots, and Old Yellow. We shared many childhood memories, Fire Wizard. Now we share that moniker too. If it makes you feel any better the tree shepherd has labeled me the same. I have now killed more Drolls than you. I am not welcome in Alms Glen and Meadowsweet. Green Vale allows me entry, but the Tree Shepherd shuns me. Sound familiar?”

Yannuvia replied, “Good Witch, you’d know these things. Just appear as your Good Witch persona. At least on the surface it’s appealing to the eye.”

Kirrie answered, “I come as I am. I don’t have the ability to change my look once I have appeared. I appeared differently when I spoke to your fish-man comrade Bluuch. He knows little of your escapades Wandmaker, but now I know a lot. I’d love to let your whorish life-mate know the whole story. The Good Witch sends me in her stead. You fixed her up pretty well. It appears it’s something you’re good at. Oh, my! The sea elf too! I’d love to tell Morganne about it! But I’m here to give you a message. I don’t know what all this means but here goes. You have created new wands with each dark period. During the Approximation you created the exceptional USA Wand. Your nodule can get no larger. When the Dark Periods arrive you will be able to create wands, but they will be of the same power and that power will be limited to Magick Missile Spells. When the grayness returns you’ll be able to create another exceptional wand. The Central Sphere and the 88 stones will direct you. Your nodule will then tell you what to do. Grayness will recharge the wands.”

Yannuvia said, “Kirrie? Fire Wizard? Are you now a Dreamraider? Have you mastered translocation? If so, come to us. You can help us.”

Kirrie replied, “I am a sister of Grayness and only a messenger. You’ve made your bed, Yannuvia. Now you must lie in it.”

The Wandmaker answered the visage in his dream, “We’ve chosen similar beds, Kirrie.”

Kirrie answered, “I don’t share mine with another.”

Yannuvia said, “Perhaps no longer… but before with my brother Gaelyss!”

Kirrie said, “Touché! I got mine! Your brother shares his bed with a whore from Meadowsweet, just as you do.”

Red lights flashed around the image. The dreaming Wandmaker watched her eyes. Kirrie’s image did not speak again. Blueness surrounded her and she faded from Yannuvia’s mind’s eye.

Noting the wyvern’s wounds, Morganne asked, “The beast is seriously wounded. What can we do?”

“I know nothing of healing wyverns. I’ve primarily avoided becoming a snack for such a beast. Have you read anything of them in the Gifts of Andreas to the People of the Forest, Gaelyss?” the elder Ulysses asked.

“It’s an animal. It eats, sleeps, breathes, and…well, you know. Give the critter some enhancing root stew and aloe juice. A Healing Spell might work. Wyverns are Magick and Nature. I…I can’t do a heal spell at this moment,” Gaelyss answered and slumped beside Edkim on the thick moss.

Rigorous spell casting again sapped his energies.

“Try placing healing balm on the beast’s wounds. We owe it. Bring enhancing stew,” the Teacher struggled to advise.

Blanchard and Debby, elders of Alms Glen, and Morin from Meadowsweet brought enhancing stew and thick amber balm. Tentatively, the elders placed the balm on the wyvern’s wounds. Kirrie offered the fragrant stew and the beast wolfed it down. The great beast sat on its haunches, snorted, and covered the elder Blanchard with purplish mucous. Blanchard grumbled something about a filthy beast. The wyvern glanced at Debby and licked its chops. Kirrie glowered and stopped the beast’s philandering.

The púca sighed and relayed, “I have a secret talent. I’m telepathetic.”

Sidheag disdainfully chided, “If you mean telepathic, like the Cloudmare, I doubt it!”

Cupid rubbed small hoof along the thin orange moss and repeated, “No, I’m telepathetic!”

Sidheag laughed derisively and drew some confused gazes from the beleaguered Drelves.

Oilill questioned his friend, “Cupid, we don’t have time to waste. What do you mean?”

Cupid reiterated, “Telepathetic! I’m púca! I have the ability to project feelings of distressing inadequacy upon others. They’ll feel pitiful or scorned, depending on the situation. I’ve used it on occasion to get out of a jam. It’s gotten me out of Aulgmoor once or twice. My victims don’t realize I’m the one fomenting the trouble.”

Sidheag grumbled, “What a pathetic talent, no joke intended. How’d that help us now?”

The púca suggested, “I thought I’d lower the Drolls’ morale a bit.”

Oilill replied, “How many can you influence? There’s too many of them!”

Cupid answered, “I don’t know how many or how far I can reach. I know I bamboozled three Kiennish Protectors in the General’s dining room. I’ll do what I can.”

The púca furrowed his cherubic brow and concentrated. The big Droll Maxim who stood about a hundred paces away tilted his head once or twice and shook his flowing mane. Maxim then looked upward and wailed mournfully.

Thirty paces behind Maxim the Droll Lieutenant Val looked at his stalwart colleague perplexed and said, “I think Maxim feels bad.”

The Droll warrior Davilano stood next to Val and replied, “I think I feel bad, too.”

Val followed, “Come to think of it, so do I.”

Davilano and Val began a chorus of wails. Soon dozens of nearby Droll warriors joined in and howled despondently. The gloomy chorale spread over the meadow. Kiennish archers threw down their bows and cried. General Saligia witnessed the spectacle and groaned, “What the ****!”

 

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.