Author: bftowe

Several seven-foot tall wolf-faced beasts came into view. The Drolls were sniffing loudly, looking all around, and detected the Drelves’ party. A gaunt creature in their midst reminded Morlecainen of an undernourished Goblin. A humming of bowstrings produced a chorus of howls from the front rank of the advancing Drolls. Two fell lifelessly to the ground. Wounds only angered others. The Kiennite raised a wand and muttered garbled phrases. Flames came from the end of the device and struck the Drelvish lookout, who fell screaming from the tree. One of the Drelvish swordsman shouted and charged the Kiennite. Six Drolls were in position to intercept the suicidal Drelve. The blade of the charging Drelve’s sword emitted a greenish glow in the amber light. The first Droll struck him with a heavy blow and opened a deep wound on his shoulder.

“That’s a mortal wound,” Morlecainen surmised.

The Drelve shouted and returned the attack. His blade sank deeply into the towering Droll’s side. The blade’s glow deepened, and the angry wound on the Drelve’s shoulder closed. The huge Droll fell to the ground. The Kiennite pointed his wand in the direction of the charging Drelve. A ray of white heat struck the small warrior and knocked him to the ground. The air filled with the smell of burning flesh. The Drelve staggered to his feet and faced two more Drolls that had reached him. the first Droll thrust a huge blade into the Drelve’s chest.  The four-foot tall warrior ignored his wounds, persisted in his attacks, and slew the first Droll with an upward stab into his chest.  The Drelve’s ugly wounds disappeared again, and he turned to face the second Droll. The huge wolf-faced warrior also fell to the blade. The Drelve was now about thirty paces from the Kiennite. Spellweaver Purya pointed his wand toward the Drolls on the right side of the clearing.  A Fire Spell enveloped and smote twenty Drolls.

Invisible Morlecainen said to himself’ “I can’t be left out of this.”

He raised his staff and shouted a command. A lightning bolt left the end of the staff and killed the Kiennite.

. Four huge wolf-faced creatures accosted the young Drelves.

“A Droll raiding party!” the Teacher exclaimed.

A small Drelve Ranger charged into the fray with his short sword drawn. The Drolls seemed amused, but their mirth only lasted a moment. The Drelve moved with blinding speed and slashed the life from the nearest Droll. The blade easily penetrated the beast’s thick hide. The three remaining Drolls descended upon the Drelve defender, and the fight was over soon. The Drolls fell before the sword in short order. The seven-foot-tall beasts had no chance against their four-foot-tall outnumbered opponent.

When it was over, Morlecainen went over to the defender and said, “I thought you were doomed, but you defeated them easily before I had time to help.”

The young Drelve smiled and said, “I owe my survival to the blade. This is the work of our Spellweaver ‘Fire.’ He imparts speed to the blade.”

Camille Aires surveyed the motley lot crowded in her abode. The older version of Kirrie, cherubic merchant Cupid, shy young lad Sean, svelte female Sidheag, stout little bloke Oilill, and misty equine shifted positions from time to time, but Kirrie and the inquisitive cherub stayed nearest Camille and asked many questions. The current Teacher of the Drelves accepted the return of her presumed dead predecessor. She cleared her throat and continued, “Our scouts have noted battles between Drolls and other forces. We’ve glimpsed bronze-skinned warriors as tall as the wolf-faced Drolls.”

Kirrie interjected, “I saw such creatures battling Drolls in the western woods before my mishap. The wyvern rider that attacked me had far greater skill than his predecessor that attacked us during the battle when we lost the Lone Oak. Regarding our casualties, who have we lost?”

The sorcerer applied a quantity of the amber tree unguent to his shoulder, left hand, bow and quiver, and lastly to his precious staff. He could not risk traveling without the staff. He inhaled again deeply and then exhaled the last of the green smoke from his lungs.

Morlecainen then said succinctly, “Go now. Leave here and be there. The return command is ‘Return to Ylysis’.”

Excruciating pain coursed through his body. His head throbbed. He sensed a passage of great distance and saw surreal images of the Room of Sorcery, Castle Ylysis, the swamp, the great River Luumic, the mist-shrouded forests, mountains, and lastly a large castle made of dark gray stone. The journey seemed to last forever, but the fact that the position of the single small yellow sun did not change in the sky made Morlecainen realize that no appreciable amount of time had actually passed. In a few hundred heartbeats, he had experienced enough pain to last the changing of a season.

Farinx reported, “The smaller pale creature evaded three giants and was attempting to steal away into the darkness. He wore these odd eye covers and moved about in the darkness. We watched him placing things in this little bag. He stuck objects much larger than the opening to the bag inside the sack. Objects got smaller when he touched them to the sack, and the bag’s shape did not change when he put large objects into it.”

Droger interrupted, “Magick!”

Farinx continued, “Yes, my liege. The small brown bag is made from the hide of some small animal. The bag of conceals its contents and weighs little. I peeked inside the bag and saw other items. It contains small squares of the odd blue and red stone. I did not reach into the bag.”

Luzu quipped, “Are you afraid, brave Farinx?”

Droger growled, “Enough insolence! Wisdom, not fear, predicated Master Scout Farinx’s action!”

Voices of approval echoed the leader’s opinion. Young Luzu gulped.

Zysle interjected, “We’re Draiths! Stay calm! Discipline! Control your actions! Continue Farinx.”

Farinx glowered at Luzu and said, “I’ll see you in the arena anytime, spawn!”

Droger said, “Generations of our ilk lived without facing the ****** Grayness! Now it’s with us! **** Magick! Best left to Kiennite scum and insignificant forest people! Cursed gray light! That Magick lurks in the realm of our enemies the giants chagrins me, but I want nothing to do with that sack of ****!”

Farinx moved a torch toward the little bag.

Zysle stood and suggested, “My liege, the bloke who carried the Magick sack no longer draws breath. Where did he come from and why was he walking among the giants? I share your contempt for the gray light and all it renders, but we should study the contents of this bag.”

Zysle took the finely made bag and retired to his austere chambers. The bag was nigh weightless.

Odd sounds came from the bag.

Alo quickly went to Xenn and helped the Spellweaver remove the tangled coils of the barbed whip from his body.

Xenn breathlessly commanded, “Don’t mind me! Check on the wounded and make safe Teacher Pryam, the young, and the harvested enhancing root.”

Alo removed the whip and said, “You have again saved us, Spellweaver. I shan’t leave you bound. The Drolls might return.”

The old Spellweaver stood on wobbly legs, brushed off his clothing, and urged, “We must tend the wounded, seek a place of refuge, and regain our strength and energies. Secure remnants of the chieftain’s robe and Kiennites’ weaponry. They attacked us with exceptional missiles. But make haste.”

“Thanks to your spell, making haste will be easy!” Alo conceded.

Xenn grudgingly reached into his purple mooler hide rucksack and removed a rare piece of sulfur. Twenty-one images of the old Drelve crushed the sulfur, performed complicated hand gestures, and muttered arcane phrases. Twenty-one reddish rays moved toward the Drolls and Kiennites. Only one was real Magick. Xenn centered the spell twenty paces in front of the Chieftain and Kiennites. The fireball exploded, consumed fifteen Drolls, and engulfed the Chieftain and two Kiennites. Secondary explosions erupted from one Kiennite’s quiver and slew the unfortunate bowman. Flames covered the second Kiennite and consumed his bow and quiver, but five undamaged bolts fell to the scorched ground. The gnarly Kiennite survived the flames, broke from the fray, and ran away. The Droll chieftain pulled thick hides over his burly frame and yelped in pain.

The hulking tribal chieftain angrily growled commands. Drolls closed in on the outnumbered Drelves’ positions in the trees and underbrush. All the while Drelvish archers assailed the Drolls and occasionally scored a mortal center shot. Xenn cast a very brief incantation that created thirteen identical images of himself. A second spell produced a translucent shield before each of the thirteen images. Trusting his fate to the Mirror Image and Shield Spells, Xenn stepped from behind the red oak, shouted loudly, and then again conjured. Seeing thirteen Drelvish Spellweavers simultaneously conjuring spooked the Drolls. The wolf-faced enemies stopped and stepped backward.

https://www.facebook.com/elfdreams/ Epic fantasy for young and old. Elfdreams and Donothor series. Thirttene Friends is prequel to both. Available at Amazon, BN, and Authorhouse. Thirttene Friends, the Lost Spellweaver, First Wandmaker, Wandmaker’s Burden, Emerald Islands, Mender’s Tomb, Deathquest to Parallan, Orb of Chalar, Death of Magick, Chalice of Mystery, and Dawn of Magick. https://www.amazon.com/…/B002PN…/ref=dp_byline_cont_ebooks_1

The cavern was one hundred and fifty feet across and with an
opening to the west directly across from where he stood. The ovoid
area extended about a hundred feet to both the left and right.
A massive red dragon sat upon a pile of treasure on the northern
wall. The dragon slept.
Knuth edged along the far side of the cavern and eventually
reached the far passage. He could see that it extended one hundred
and twenty-five feet and ended in elaborate doors. There was a
passage to the south at fifty feet. He went forward and saw that this
passage extended upward as far as the eye could see. He detected
no activity in the passage. He went on to the doors and listened. He
heard deep voices- male and female, Ice Giant and Red Giant, and
young and old- and could not risk opening the door.
He sneaked back to the cavern. The red dragon stretched and
looked about the cavern. She gulped down a huge titanosteer carcass
in a single bite. The old wyrm sent a chill down Knuth’s spine.
A lesser man would have yielded to the effects of the Fear Spell
emanated by the ancient evil dragon.
Knuth had never looked upon such a formidable foe.
He froze.
He gingerly drank a green potion and minimized his body: smaller
was probably better. The dragon turned rapidly, stared at the
opening where Knuth stood, and sniffed.
Knuth ran as fast as his little legs could carry him away from the
opening. The massive red dragon thundered across the cavern and
looked into the passage.