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| Author | The Chronicles of skunder |
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Cyrallin was shocked, even slightly hurt, seeing now how the elves had felt about their stay in Thurlmolan. Seeing the shock on her face, the elves began to whisper to themselves, believing that her shock had betrayed her. “No!” She called out. “The army of Thurlmolan masses, but not against you. It goes to war against Larklan, against the northern knights!”
The elves’ talk became louder, spoken swiftly and beautifully in their native tongue. Guilm at last called for silence. When the others quieted he spoke to the princess, “Why do your people war against the knights?”
She looked him in the eye, her own beginning to water knowing the carnage that would soon begin, “I don’t know Guilm. All I was told was that the knights were waging war against us, and my father commanded the armies to defend Thurlmolan against the knights. A servant of mine saw their army massing. They attacked him while delivering a letter from me to Gil.”
He could see the truth in her eyes, “I believe you Cyrallin. But I have to ask you, since you didn’t come to warn us of danger, why have you come?”
She blinked. How could she have forgotten? She reached for the case at her side, pulling the scroll free and reading it aloud. The elves stared on in silence, taking in the information solemnly.
She was looking at Guilm now, she repeated what she felt was most important, “Guilm, the dark haired elf you saw in the Arbortarium must be from this land, from Silent Hill. You can go to them and find out why they ally themselves with demons to fight against you.”
Guilm was slow to answer, thinking more aloud than speaking to anyone specifically, “It would be best to first determine if these other elves are indeed there before sending an entire army against them.” He stood, looking at Cyrallin, “Before I go though, you must show me where this Silent Hill is.”
She argued, “Guilm, you can’t go, your people need you. More so, it isn’t right for you to go out alone.”
“No disrespect princess, but you yourself are out traveling alone far away from home.”
He made a good point, but Cyrallin wouldn’t be easily cowed. “Then I will go with you.”
“You will not. You have a city at war, and I won’t sacrifice another life for my own failures.”
Though in a room of elven elders and officials she found herself raising her voice, something she was taught never to do, “You can’t take the blame of an entire nation on your own head! This was not your fault!”
He stepped closer, his own voice filled with emotion, “It wasn’t I who brought the knife, but I allowed it to fall. And when it did it took…her…away from me. I will not endanger another which I care about, but I will stop this plague from spreading further.” | A noise erupted from outside. Startled, Cyrallin and the elders looked to the door, giving Guilm time enough to wipe his tears. Screaming persisted until at last a knock echoed on the wooden frame, followed by one of the elven guards quickly entering.
Pryvius was first to ask, “What is all that noise?”
The guard answered, “A human rider, your honor. He has come with a message to deliver.”
Pryvius motioned to the guard to let him in, “Let him come. We will listen to his message.”
The guard stammered, “Your honor, the message is not for the council,” he turned towards Cyrallin, “he says it is for you, milady.” After a moment of surprise she nodded for him to enter.
The messenger entered, dressed in the garb of Larklan riders. His face was reddened, no doubt from the dispute with the guards outside, but his face stayed constant on the princess’s gaze. She knew him, knew him well. It was Gilric’s personal messenger. Her face brightened, her eyes sparkling in joy and she found she couldn’t keep herself from smiling broadly.
Then she remembered. “Weeks have passed and only now, at the edge of war he decides to write to me? He had better have something better than a mere poem to smooth this one over.” Some of the elves snickered, some covering their mouth to hide their smiles.
The messenger seemed troubled, but then began his long rehearsed speech, “Milady, Sir Gilric has sent me many days ago now to tell you of the troubles in Larklan. His uncle the king has been assassinated, and his own father made king over the kingdom. The king is insane with anger; he believes your people are the assassins.”
She interrupted him, “That’s absurd! Why would we ever -”
“There is more milady.” The messenger promised. He began again, “When Sir Gilric returned he was thought to be a traitor as he came from your lands. He was imprisoned in Aukzale Fortress, where he awaits the judgment of the king.”
“And what is to be his judgment?” she asked.
The faithful messenger bowed his head, finally whispering, “Death, milady.”
Cyrallin gasped, while the elves seemed indignant.
The messenger finished, “He has sent me to tell you that he loves you, and that you will be his last thought when death comes for him. That is all.”
There was no reaction from her. The messenger was prepared for sorrow, for anger, for tears and screaming, but silence? He was at a loss. He felt he had to explain more, as if the princess didn’t comprehend what he had said due to her state, “I am sorry I couldn’t have reached you earlier, but surely I would have been killed on sight. Sir Gilric told me you traveled daily to the elven camp, but you never came, so I simply waited until next you set out.”
Cyrallin spun on her heels, turning to face Guilm. “You are going to Silent Hill to right the wrongs of the past, and also for love, am I correct?”
Slightly confused, he nodded agreement.
“I too have allowed love to get away from me. But I have the power to get it back,” her voice took on a confident manner, declaring she wouldn’t accept no for an answer, “I am going with you to Silent Hill, but first I will need your help. I am going to free Gil from this prison,” she turned back towards the messenger, pointing, “and you are going to lead us there.”
* * * * * | Cyrallin, Guilm, and the messenger named Ahrnald left the refugee camp in short time. Ahrnald had been resistant at first, but then the intensity in Cyrallin’s face changed his mind. He led them north to Larklan through passes Cyrallin told him about, managing to stay away from Thurlmolan scouts. At last they entered into Larklan territory and Ahrnald began to lead the way. He guided them east across the flat plains common to the knights’ land. They expected to meet resistance upon coming to the road which connected the two lands, but instead found it eerily quiet. As they crossed, Guilm looked to the north, seeing a cloud of dust rising a far distance off. “The army of Larklan is moving. At least two days off.” He looked to the south, the wizards’ army was also moving, coming out to meet Larklan. Guilm turned to the others, “We must move fast. The armies will soon meet.”
With anxious looks from the others, Cyrallin began casting words of magic, the power swelling within her. She had interrogated her messenger Hazum and had kept a piece of the conversation fresh in her mind. She remembered it now, releasing the magic within her to dwell upon their mounts. Immediately their horses sped up, jarring the riders and forcing them to hold on or else fall. Though Cyrallin could not be aware of it, their speeds far exceeded what Hazum had been able to do.
In the first few seconds after casting the spell, the three had raced across the roadway and were heading down the hillside of the opposite field. The landscape fled behind them, the sound of the wind wailing like a raging storm in their ears. Had there been pursuers on their tail, they doubted they’d have any luck in actually catching them.
By the time her Rapid spell finished, they had cleared the field and found themselves on the edge of a dense thicket. They entered, allowing the trees to cover their passing as they continued on their way to the fortress of Aukzale. They followed the woods until they broke into another open field, which a hill rose up steeply at the far end. At its top, even in the early hours of the night, a stone fortress could be seen. Lantern light exposed the fortress, a menacing structure for the three as they neared it shortly afterwards. | P2: E5: (Discussion: https://www.lordswm.com/forum_messages.php?tid=1847965)
In the short hours before the sun’s morning light first reached over Larklan’s green fields, Guilm, Cyrallin, and Ahrnald debated on how to deal with getting Gilric from the Aukzale prison. Through the long night they had found no true answer yet.
Ahrnald insisted, “We must try to reason with them princess. After all, they are still my countrymen.”
They had been through this before, many times. Trying to keep her voice down, she hissed, “Yes I am quite aware Ahrnald, the same countrymen which are on their way to attack my land and kill the ones I love.”
Guilm interjected. “But they are not the same. These men are not in the armies moving south. And even those armies are not to blame. It is their king. King’s decide when their nation will war; kings decide the fate of many. It is treason to not go to war once a king has given his order.”
“I’m quite aware of the politics of royal families, Guilm. My problem however, is knowing that once we give away our position, and our intention, those guards will have more information then I want them to have. So I say we just take the fortress.”
Ahrnald laughed. “That’s the other thing princess. How in the world are we supposed to take this thing? Have you seen it? By the Great God’s name, it’s a, a uh, well a fortress after all.”
She scolded. “I could be holding Gil by now by my own merit if I wasn’t being delayed.”
Guilm again came to the messenger’s aide, “Cyrallin, whether we can take the fortress or not is not the question. It’s whether we should. Consider, if the battle of Larklan and Thurlmolan for some reason is stopped. And then Larklan discovers we have attacked their lands. The fury that next rises will not be as easily quenched.”
The wizard princess considered this for long moments, her gaze cast downward with her hand over her chin. At last she stood, resolute but obviously not happy with the decision, “Very well Guilm. I see the wisdom in your council. We will use diplomacy first. And if that fails,” she turned to the dark tower, “then we do it my way.”
The next hour passed slowly, seeming like an eternity to the three. Guilm and Ahrnald spoke about how they would approach the tower, while Cyrallin pulled out one of her arcane books, reading the pages for whatever spells she thought might come in handy, should things not go well with Guilm’s plan.
As the first rays of the day shed their light, Ahrnald rode to the fortress alone. Within earshot, he halted his horse and awaited the hail from the guards. It came quickly as six guards appeared on the battlements high above, crossbows pointed at the messenger. “Your name and purpose, or your life, for approaching the gate of Aukzale unannounced.”
Ahrnald swallowed his fear, calling up to the skilled marksmen. “I am Ahrnald of Larklan. I have an urgent message from King Avrian. He wishes to have his son ride with him to the battle against the wizards. He requires him with all haste as the army even now rides south.” | The guards were quiet for a long while, as they awaited word from their commander. The man finally appeared over the edge of the wall, fully armored with an exquisite helm tucked beneath his arm. He looked over the messenger with knowing eyes. “All messages of the king are sent to Aukzale with official transcripts. Where are your papers with his majesty’s seal upon them?”
Ahrnald silently cursed, he’d known this would be asked of him. He had even thought of drawing up false documents, but didn’t have the materials much less the time to do so. He improvised, “Good sir, we have a new king now on the throne. Apparently the policies have changed.”
The commander called down, “Aukzale Fortress has never released a prisoner without written order, nor has Aukzale ever lost or allowed a prisoner to escape while faithful men guard its walls. Return to the king, and tell him know it is in the interests of that great tradition that we will not release the prisoner.”
The commander’s face was set, his decision made. Ahrnald knew he would get no further with him. There was only one way left to get Gilric back, without Cyrallin having her way. “My good sir,’ he called up once more, “In all truth, the king is crazed! He sent his son to Aukzale for false reasons. King Avrian goes to war against a people who have committed no crime. It is best for all of us to allow the prince to be released to me to avoid the shedding of innocent blood.”
Ahrnald had said it all, borderline blasphemy, but the truth. These were men of honor, as was he. He was sure they would know truth when it presented itself. He was wrong. The commander called back, “Allegiance to king and nation, page. Learn that and know what it is to be a soldier of Larklan! Accept this as warning for your insolence!” He made a quick motion to the soldiers on the wall and then the clicking sound of crossbows was heard. The bolts landed a few paces in front of Ahrnald’s horse, standing upright in a straight line as if to say ‘you may not pass’. He turned back, knowing there was no way to hold Cyrallin back from her plan now.
Moments after Ahrnald entered the nearby woods, he had told them what had happened, even attempting to make it sound less hopeless. They had seen the arrows though and knew they had no other choice. Time was running out, too much had to be done without dealing with the arrogance of knightly honor. Or so Cyrallin told herself as she walked out from the woods.
Standing well out of crossbow range, she cast a Projection spell, the same used by her father days before to speak to the masses about the coming war. Her voice carried across the plains, to the fortress, even into the cells where Gilric along with other convicts were held. “I am Princess Cyrallin of Thurlmolan, you are holding Sir Gilric at the word of a grief stricken lunatic who threatens my home! I will give you ten minutes to release him to me, before I take him myself!”
She waited. The time passed and the fort’s great doors remained closed. | Up until now, she hadn’t revealed her power to the others she traveled with. Of course she had cast her Rapid spell, the Projection spell, and even the Shield spell with them around, but those were considered basic spells amongst her kind. As princess of Thurlmolan, she was given access to nearly all spells of magic, and as a student she had been very hungry to learn them all. She started casting, the words of magic flaring to life within her, filling her with both an undreamed ecstasy as well as a draining sensation through her entire being. She screamed the final words aloud, heard even at the fortress as her Projection spell sputtered out. Her arms were held out to her sides, then she quickly brought them together a hands span from her chest as if holding something there within them. Then she thrust them both forward, sending a violent surge of electrical energy towards Aukzale.
The lightning bolt streamed across the barren field, striking the fortress with a thunderous impact and noise. As it struck, the tendrils of electricity fanned out, crawling and reaching over the stone walls to the fearful crossbowmen and their commander. Their bodies shuddered as the current moved through them, sending them hurtling backwards off of the battlements to the hard earth below.
Before the soldiers had even struck the ground, Cyrallin had begun a second spell. She was feeling the draining feeling more now, the vessel of her magic being used up by the powerful spells. Again the words finished, the spell completed. In one quick motion she sliced downward through the air with her right hand. Nothing happened.
Ahrnald and Guilm were exiting the nearby woods, still awed by the lightning strike, and slightly alarmed now that her second spell apparently had malfunctioned. They were nearly to her when they felt the tremors. The earth quaked, the shocks felt even as far away as they were. Together they looked to Aukzale, filled with a new respect for the powers that Cyrallin wielded.
Looking at the once intimidating structure, they could see the entire front wall trembling. It lurched from side to side, and then with a grinding burst, it gave way. With a stone crunching rumble, it fell like a heavy curtain crashing straight to the earth, as a blast of dust sprayed outward over the plains.
The three began to move forward, riding to the fringes of the fallen rock wall. As they dismounted, the remaining knights came out of the fort, climbing over the ruin and towards their attackers. Guilm unsheathed his blade, warning Ahrnald to stay with Cyrallin.
Four soldiers rushed the elf, coughing up the thick dust as they ran forward. The first three each held a double bladed sword and thick shield, the last held a similar weapon and one slightly smaller. Guilm fell upon them, his focus and determination evident with his expert strikes. With his twin sabers he reached the first, blocking a feeble strike from the knight and then crushing his fingers with the broad side of his second blade. Dropping his sword, the guard screamed out, then swung his shield to bash the elf. Guilm leapt backwards from the swing just as the second knight approached from the right.
Guilm feigned to the left, knowing the other would step forward. When the predictable guard neared, Guilm twisted, bringing his swords in a full powered strike. At the last second he turned the blades. They struck the guard together broad size in the helm. The dazed guard stumbled backwards as the remaining two guards attacked. Cyrallin began casting another spell. | Flanked by three soldiers, Guilm began backing up. Cyrallin’s spell acted. From her out-raised hand a ray of frosty cold emitted. The freezing cold enwrapped the closest guard, locking his muscles, beginning to form a thick ice around the man’s legs and midsection.
The remaining two guards, one still unarmed and the dual-wielder, attacked. The first struck out with his shield, forcing Guilm to retreat backward. He sidestepped a thrust from the swordsman, then ducked a high slashing strike from his short sword. The shield-man attacked from the side, connecting and nearly knocking Guilm to the ground.
Cyrallin responded with a quick but effective spell. A small glowing light shot from her finger, exploding in front of the two soldiers. Dazzling lights startled the two, momentarily blinding them, and causing them to pause as Guilm brushed off the stunning strike.
Guilm ran forward to meet the shield-man straight on. The knight swung the heavy shield, swinging out wide and dropping his guard as Guilm purposely delayed. The elf leapt forward placing one foot on the guard’s thigh and raising himself high. He brought his other leg up, striking his knee hard into the guard’s face, spraying blood from his mouth and nose.
With incredible agility, the elf balanced himself even as the man crashed to the ground unconscious.
The second guard, no longer dazed but without his helm, joined his fellow soldier. The two began swinging wildly at the elf, who managed to dodge and block the enraged strikes. The guards were planning an attack, Guilm could see. They were far too disciplined to be striking like this, but just the same they were backing him into a trap that he couldn’t prevent. In short time, they would be on either side of him, forcing him to parry between two well trained soldiers from opposite directions. It wouldn’t take long after that.
Even as Cyrallin began a spell, the soldiers worked themselves into place, one attacking from his front while the other from behind. The elf moved with unnatural speed, his swords moving as if by their own will, finding the enemies attacks, beating back their swords. He knew however that he couldn’t gain the offensive. In the end he would lose.
The dual armed knight made his move. As Guilm motioned to block his main attack, the knight brought his second weapon up, catching the elf’s sword between his two blades. Guilm struggled but was unable to release the hold. The second knight saw his chance and used his shield to pin the elf’s second weapon, then brought his own sword high for a killing blow. His sword began to fall, aimed at the elf’s unprotected head.
The guard’s sword came down rapidly, seeking Guilm’s life when Cyrallin’s spell released. A magical force appeared around her clenched fist, she thrust it towards the knight. The magic began to take form, even as it raced towards the unknowing guard, appearing more and more like a thick gauntlet. The Magic Punch slammed hard into the unsuspecting soldier, smashing him backwards and to the ground. His sword slumped from his hand just before he looked up, cursed, then went unconscious. | The last knight knew his fate, he released Guilm’s weapon, retreating a few steps and taking a defensive position. Wisely, he kept Guilm between himself and the dangerous wizard.
Guilm squared off with him, allowing them both to catch their breath. At last he spoke, “We have not come to defeat you. Only to retrieve the prince. Step aside and we will let you flee.”
The knight answered, “If I flee I am a dead man, or worse, a coward without honor.”
Guilm nodded his understanding of the knight’s beliefs, even showing a quiet respect for him. Then he launched forward. His swords drew wide circles in the air as he closed the distance with his foe. When they met, their swords clanged, saber to long sword, then his second to the short. Repeatedly the sounds of metal on metal sounded through the plains.
Through the loud clashing and grunts, Guilm said, “You fight well knight.” Their swords collided. “It has been my honor.” Fear shown in the knight’s eyes.
Guilm stepped backwards, throwing and spinning his swords high into the air. The knight made the error, looking up for just a second. Guilm bent low, sweeping the knight’s leg from beneath him. The soldier fell hard knocking the wind from his lungs. Guilm fell on the panting man, kicking his main weapon away from him and then disarming and bringing the shorter weapon up to the defeated knight’s neck.
The elf’s spinning blades finally landed blade first into the soft earth behind them. Guilm commanded, “There is no need for you to die. You will take us to Sir Gilric with both your honor and life intact.”
* * * * * | The four walked through the halls of the fortress beyond the fallen outer wall. The knight stopped in front of an iron door with a small window revealing a form sitting inside. “Gil?” Cyrallin called inside.
“Yes, Lynn, I’m here. And I see you didn’t listen to me.” Gilric said sarcastically.
Cyrallin responded, “Gil, you knew I wouldn’t just leave you to die.”
Guilm opened the cell door with a key he took off the body of the commander outside. Cyrallin swung the door open and ran into Gilric’s waiting arms. They kissed a long hello, and then Cyrallin, still in his arms, looked up, “I don’t ever want to be apart from you again Gil.” Without words to ease her troubles or the chaotic world outside, he simply held her.
When he felt he couldn’t delay any longer, Guilm announced, “Glad to see you healed up nice Gil, and now that we’ve rescued you, again, we’ve got to get going.”
Gilric shook his head, appreciating the humor. “And where are we off to elf?”
Cyrallin grabbed him, suddenly coming out of her trance. She had begun to think everything was okay now that Gilric was back with her. “Gil, I found something in our libraries. We believe it tells us where the people who are attacking the elves are from. We’re going there Gil, to the north mountains, to find them so we can put a stop to this.”
Without a word, he walked away, going down the long hall. The others shrugged and continued after him. He turned the corner, reaching a flight of stairs that rose upward and climbed them. Again the others followed. Reaching the second flight and seeing another before her, Cyrallin called out to Gilric, “Gil, this is important to me. Are you even listening?” She ran up the final flight, grabbing his arm and spinning him around.
His eyes were tender, his voice compassionate. “Of course I am listening. I just had to make sure.”
Her eyebrows tightened, revealing her confusion, “Make sure what?”
He led her around the final corner, the others filing in behind them. Then he pulled a bolted lock back and swung open the wide wooden doors of a large separate room. Gilric smiled back to her, “I just needed to make sure they were still here.”
“They who - ”, Cyrallin trailed off, covering her mouth in awe, staring at the creatures in the closed off chamber.
From the back of the group, Ahrnald said aloud, “The Aukzale messenger griffins. We ride in the skies!” | P2: E6: (Discussion: https://www.lordswm.com/forum_messages.php?tid=1847965)
The messenger griffins sailed out from the bastion at the Fortress of Aukzale with two riders on each of their backs. Cyrallin rode with Gilric an accomplished aerial rider, and Guilm rode along with Ahrnald, who though had never before ridden a griffin, knew enough of animals as a messenger that he managed not to get them both killed. After gliding out of a large open window the griffins soared higher into the morning sky, their strong eagle-like wings climbing with each powerful stroke.
Before taking off, the four of them had discussed their plans for their long trek. They didn’t know where exactly they needed to go, but Gilric believed if they traveled by air they would have a better chance of covering more land and no doubt get their faster. Something else that remained important was that they get back in time to try to stop the war between their two kingdoms, but as is, nothing they knew could stop King Avrian from relenting. Their only hope was in finding information about the mysterious Silent Hill Elves, and that if they could prove it was real they could turn the two armies away from each other.
Gilric had also been concerned about the Aukzale guards, but Ahrnald reassured him they were not dead. He explained how Guilm only knocked the guards unconscious, though Cyrallin’s lightning strike had unfortunately killed two of the seven, and the others would be seriously injured for some time. Ahrnald had also taken the liberty of removing the Aukzale commander’s suit of armor, and fit it onto Sir Gilric. Once it was on, the messenger looked him over, commenting, “Well, it’s not as pretty as your armor back in Orborin, but it’s still one heck of a good suit.” Gilric looked it over. He was fitted as a field knight, the full mail suit glistening in the morning sun, aside from a few dark and dented spots as provided by the lightning and long fall.
Now high in the skies, the two griffins led their riders ever northward to the silent dark hills. The wind howled around them, making speech near impossible, as the words were quickly dragged away and lost. Cyrallin also dealt with the stinging annoyance of her whipping hair, which swung around with as much force as it was annoying. As of a result, the two griffins and their riders quietly soared through the open space.
Cyrallin sat contentedly in Gilric’s arms, softly dazing in the comfort of being with him. Then something occurred to her. She called out for Gilric, but he seemed to not hear through the wind. She cast a Projection spell, allowing her voice to carry so he could now hear her. “Gil, I think I figured it out.” She could see his lips move but could hear nothing. She cast another Projection spell on him.
He asked again, “What did you figure out, Love?”
“Who assassinated your uncle!” She called out. “It’s the demons Gil. It has to be.”
“It’s most likely,” was all he said in reply.
She continued, as if working her thoughts into words more than trying to convince him, “Well it all makes sense. Even the books seem right, Gil. The Chazr Daemonium, and the history book with the information I gave to Guilm. They were written at nearly the same time. It all points to one thing. I think I know what happened. The demons must have lured some of the elves to their evil ways, and the ancient elf and demon war was fought because the good elves wouldn’t be apart of it. That’s what caused the Separation!” | A long silence fell between them, and then Gilric spoke, “Yes it seems possible.” he said hesitantly, “But there’s something that doesn’t make sense. The information you brought Guilm and read to me, it says something about the Lorekeepers and that they held some sort of secret. And how come the Chazr Daemonium, or nearly any other book you said you read, never mentions the Separation – except of course the one you found?”
She considered it further, “I don’t know Gil. It was only a thought, though I can’t say I know it’s the truth for sure. But I still think the demons caused the Separation!’ She said quieter now, “We just have to find a way to prove it. Then we can stop this war between our people.”
Hours passed by as did the flat plains of Larklan. The lands below began to rise, becoming rough stone and thick forest upon dark rolling hills. Gilric indicated to Ahrnald where they should land, using hand movements to direct them to a stone outcropping with decent visibility.
As they neared the location Guilm tapped Ahrnald’s shoulder, pointing off into the distance. His elven eyes clearly saw something, but Ahrnald was unable to make out what it was. He trusted the elf and pulled hard on the griffin’s reins, commanding the creature to ascend once more. It obeyed and set off in the direction Guilm pointed.
Gilric landed nonetheless, seeing the opportunity to rest his mount and stretch is legs. He leapt off of the griffin, then extended a hand to Cyrallin helping her down as well. The two walked along the rock filled area, looking around at their vantage point. They were very high up, for the hill lands, with a beautiful view that seemed somewhat less romantic after spending the greater part of a day within the clouds.
The two waited for nearly half an hour, and at last sat under a scrub tree when the griffin shifted nervously. They looked to the skies, seeing Ahrnald bringing the other griffin down for a rough landing. They tethered the beast’s together and then walked forward.
Guilm said excitedly, “Over the next ridge of hills we found something.” Gilric’s and Cyrallin’s expressions both begged him to continue. “Two trails leading out of one of the larger hills of the area. They are on opposite sides of the hill, and are of vastly different size. The first seems like a front entrance, small and with little traffic. The other however is large, and seems fresh with tracks. I want to go there to check it out.”
Gilric decided, “Alright then Guilm. We’ll camp out for a few hours, rest and eat. More than likely we’re going to need it.”
Guilm bowed his head consenting, but it was evident that he wanted to get moving immediately.
Once again the travelers mounted the griffins and kicked off from the earth, soaring above the hill tops and heading northward. It wasn’t log after that they saw the trails Guilm had spoken of. One was small and not alarming, the other however was wide and many feet trampled the earth causing the rock strewn land to be flattened out in the wake of whatever had come through here. Even trees had been cleared along the path, allowing a large number of beings to pass through here unimpeded. The trail emerged from the side of the large hill very near a rushing waterfall that appeared from the side of the hill itself. The waters then gathered in a fast moving river which seemed to carry itself out west. The trail winded itself along the northern bank of the river, quickly being lost behind the hills in that direction. | Guilm motioned to Ahrnald about where he wished to land and the messenger complied. Gilric followed after. They were away from the waterfall surrounded within a grove of trees. Guilm stepped out evasively, working his way to the large path, the others followed afterwards. Guilm’s expert eye and tracking sense scanned the footmarks, counting them and noting the various forms. His response was not favorable. “There are several thousand warriors here, of elven size and weight.”
Cyrallin gasped, “Could they be your captured kinsmen?”
Guilm was still deep in thought, he answered absentmindedly, “No, that’s unlikely. They are heading away from this place, back to the south. No, these are not slaves, they are an army.” Cyrallin gasped, covering her mouth.
Guilm continued, “It is worse than that I fear. There are other creatures here. Hoofed men that walk on two legs, some sort of large reptilian beast, as well as -” Guilm pointed to a large impression in the ground. It was as wide as a full shield and it had sank into the hard earth forming the hole. “Guilm exclaimed, “Something this large must be the size of a home.”
The others looked around at each other in astonishment and fear, wondering what dangers were now heading south to all and any of their lands.
Guilm stood, looking off to the north, “But it is clear that they came through there,” then he pointed to the grand waterfall pouring from the face of the rock.
Together they walked to the waterfall, standing just outside of where it gathered into a small foaming pond. The rushing waters fell into a narrow stream which quickly gathered into the roaring river they had just left behind. The ground was strewn with rocks which covered any sign of their passing, but Guilm assured them that the large army had to have come from beneath the waters.
Ahrnald moved closer to where Guilm had mentioned, reaching out and touching the cold water. It was freezing and splashed around his fingers. He cupped the waters, splashing it to his face while the others talked about what action they should next take. When Ahrnald opened his eyes, face dripping, he stared into the face of a monstrous creature sticking out from the falling waters. It was large and was forced to hunch over to meet Ahrnald eye to eye. A pair of large bull-like horns extended from its head and a dark fur covered what the messenger was able to see of its body. All too slowly he saw the axe move out from the waters, slashing down with deadly power.
Ahrnald fell back screaming, blood poured from a wound to his shoulder where the axe had struck. The others turned to him even as the creature emerged fully from the waters, followed by three others of its kind. Legends spoke of the minotaur, creatures from the dark places of the world, but legends were like fairy tales when face to face with the real thing. | The first lumbered towards the fallen Ahrnald, to finish what it had started. The remaining three moved to engage the others, as eager to kill one of the trespassers as the first.
Guilm and Gilric ran forward in front of Cyrallin, standing side by side to prevent the beasts from reaching her. She began a spell, staring down the beast ready to take Ahrnald’s life. Her Magic Punch materialized around her hand once more, striking out towards the minotaur and slamming it hard in the chest. The beast flew backwards, disappearing once more behind the sheet of falling water. The other three looked to see their kinsman fly back, then they themselves rushed forward with an ear splitting roar.
Guilm and Gilric paired off with one each, while the third made its way around them to deal with the wizard. Cyrallin immediately put up a shield wall, conjuring a bubble of blue energy to form around her. The minotaur began bashing the wall with powerful axe strikes, any of which would cleave a man in two.
Guilm and Gilric managed to stay back to back as their foes circled around them. The minotaur weren’t interested in tactics as much as using brute strength to crush their enemy. The first swung high over Guilm’s head, the nimble elf ducking with plenty of time to move and then slice the creature’s massive thigh. The beast-man ignored the scratch and swung again, this time bringing the axe over his head and down into the stone earth where the elf had been just a moment before. Off to its side, Guilm began delivering swift and deliberate strikes to the creature’s midsection, though its tough skin and thick fur prevented any serious damage. Both were becoming increasingly frustrated by the other.
The fully armored Gilric couldn’t move as fast as the elf, and so was forced to fend the attacks with skill and shield. As the minotaur raced towards him, he raised his shield managing to fend off a deadly attack. The force of the blow however knocked him backwards, losing his expected counter strike. The beast moved in for the kill, its massive hooves kicking stone and dirt as it leapt forward. Gilric whirled around, bashing the minotaur’s axe away with a backhanded swing of his shield. Then he pierced with his sword, hoping to gut the creature in one strike. The minotaur dodged, and Gilric’s sword only scraped its side, bringing dots of blood to the surface. It grunted and the two circled one another again.
Cyrallin’s foe continued to beat against the energy shield, each powerful blow hoping to break through the magic or at least the wizard’s concentration. Already sweating and showing signs of weakening, she called out to Gilric while keeping her thoughts on the magic.
Guilm chanced a look to the side, seeing Cyrallin wavering under the minotaur’s assault. As he did, his own opponent swung again, coming in from the side towards the elf’s hip. Guilm rolled backwards, hitting the ground and bounding to his feet a second later. The minotaur stepped in with his shoulder towards Guilm, hoping to knock the elf on his back once more, but Guilm proved to be too fast. He sidestepped the attack, slashing out at the back of the creature’s legs, bringing howls of pain as it turned around.
Gilric’s foe finally rushed forward, swinging the axe over its massive head before bringing it down to dislodge Gilric’s. The knight defended the blow with his sword, sending vibrations through his arm as he did. Fighting through the temptation to drop his weapon, he brought his shield up, bashing the beast-man hard in the face. Again blood dripped from an open wound on its lip and it shrugged the pain away. The minotaur kicked out with his hoof, striking Gilric square in the chest. The knight toppled backwards, stumbling and landing on the ground. Reflexively, he brought his shield up to guard another attack. He peered from behind the shield seeing the creature waiting, its back leg kicking stone as it readied for its next attack. | Meanwhile, the minotaur grabbed its axe in both hands, using it to strike in close quarters as it closed the distance with Guilm. They shared a few quick attacks, the beast jabbing with the blunt end of the axe but finding no hope there. Guilm deflected the shots, but was repeatedly sent back, forced to retreat a few steps each time. Finally, he went on the offensive, knocking the axe low and allowing his other blade to pierce into the beast’s chest. It sank deep, finding purchase in the tough flesh. The minotaur raised his axe, knocking the blade away and then battered the elf hard with the shaft of the axe. Guilm fell, rolling backwards as the minotaur began stomping the earth to crush him.
Gilric could see the minotaur ready to charge, his head lowered so that it could skewer the knight on its horns. Gilric remembered well the wounds of Anhkabar, his horns so similar to his present foe. He knew that as soon as he rose the creature would attack, and this time no one would be there to keep the beast from finishing him off if he should connect. He slowly got to his feet, feigning an injury as he did. The minotaur charged. Gilric stayed hidden behind his shield until just the last second. The roar of the minotaur was upon him! He kicked off to the right, bringing his sword high behind him and letting his shield arm fall. The sword came down on the back of the beast’s neck, cutting clean through. The creature, and its head, toppled to the ground with a spray of blood, rock, and dirt.
Seeing another of its kinsmen fall and making little damage on the energy shield, Cyrallin’s opponent charged Gilric. A fatal mistake. Cyrallin dropped the Shield and began another spell even as Gilric turned to face the creature. Her spell released and the magic Punch struck it hard across the side of its bovine face. Muscles tore and bones broke, its spine snapped, instantly killing the creature.
Guilm continued rolling until at last he used his momentum to twist up to his feet. He took another step back as the minotaur closed the distance. The beast’s axe swung out as it neared, Guilm ducked throwing his right hand saber high into the air. He continuing running to the rear of the beast, grabbing on to its horn and jumping up. He hoisted himself up even as it tried to shake him off. Guilm’s sword finally came down and he grabbed hold of it while standing on the beast’s shoulders. He turned both sabers point downwards, then stepped backwards, lodging the swords into the soft flesh between the neck and shoulder. Guilm landed weaponless, his swords punctured nearly half their length into the creature. It turned, dropping its own weapon and falling to one knee. Its arms hug heavy and at last fell face first to its death.
When the last of the minotaur fell, Cyrallin and Gilric ran to Ahrnald. His shoulder was ripped open and bleeding heavily. Guilm approached after, removing a small herb from a vial on his belt. He crushed the reddish herb and began applying it to the wound.
“What is that?” Gilric asked.
Guilm answered, “Asamine, a marsh herb. It will only stop the bleeding, not the pain.”
When finished they bandaged the wounded messenger and walked him back to the griffins. Sitting there, Ahrnald listened to the others argue about whether they should go on or return to Larklan and the impending battle. Through rasping breaths he spoke, “Go! I’ll be fine. You came here to find answers, now find them!” The others nodded grimly, then parted after a few words of encouragement, and to flee if he was found. | Once again they stood before the waterfall. This time, they didn’t hesitate, running through the freezing waters and coming out into a large dark tunnel. The sound of the waterfall echoed through the passage, heading down into the depths of the earth. The only light that shone came from the entranceway, and it didn’t carry well in the daunting cave.
They moved around in the front of the entrance, nearly tripping over the dead minotaur Cyrallin had slammed through the waterfall. They could see now where the four had been waiting. They had sat around a stone table with a few of their belongings resting on its top. One of which was an old-age lantern that Cyrallin grabbed up. “It has oil! We should have at least a few hours of light with this.”
“Very well then,” Guilm insisted, “let’s get moving.”
The three traveled slowly through the large tunnel, not knowing what traps may be waiting to spring on them, and simply not wanting to trip over the rock strewn ground.
Still they carried on, awestruck by the immense tunnel. Its surface seemed to be carved by natural water flow, though here and there strange carvings in the stone could be seen. Some were pictures of the world above, being consumed by the darkness of the world below. There were also words dug deep into the grey stone. Guilm stopped at one of the murals, studying it and recognizing the words, yet there was still a foreignness to their dialect. He found a phrase he could translate relatively easily, guessing the words he couldn’t read noticeably.
“And the trees will burn, the grasses give way to ash…and the Dark Elf will rise at last to power.”
Anger flared over the elf’s normally delicate features. “If this is their welcome sign I see no way to reason with these traitors. They will bring -”
“Hush,” Cyrallin commanded. “Look, there is another passage there.”
The others followed her finger and began to see the shape of a side passage form just outside their vision. Slowly it began to become clearer. Then they realized it was because someone was approaching from the passage. Guilm called for Cyrallin to douse the lantern, though her hand was already on the oil knob. They fell into darkness, watching as the stranger’s light came onward.
Voices sounded out, strange to all but Guilm’s ears. He noted familiar words, but still in a harsh dialect and even harsher tone. He whispered to the others, “It is the Dark Elves.” | A half dozen of the Dark Elves rounded the corner of the side passage, each garbed in a golden uniform with a rich blue cloth underneath, and a blade to their side. Guilm’s keen eye could also make out the same symbol he had seen on the Emissary in the Arbortarium – a black winged serpent. The Dark Elves were walking on the outside of a dozen elven prisoners, Guilm’s own people, shackled hand and foot and forced into labor by these evil beings. They were pushing large carts filled with rubble through the cramped space.
Rage set upon Guilm.
“For freedom my brothers!” Guilm jumped forward regardless of the consequences. Cyrallin and Gilric were only just slightly less surprised than the Dark Elf taskmasters, who nearly fell back from the war scream.
The Dark Elves, however quickly recovered, and drew their weapons, long curved blades with a serrated edge on their backside. Four of the Dark Elves rushed forward, another two held back, watching over their slaves.
Seeking justice, Guilm sought his first victim, running with full deliberate strides. Behind him, Gilric had snapped into action, running forward much slower in his heavier clanging armor. Still farther back, Cyrallin began a spell, speaking the single word that brought forth bright dazzling lights aimed behind Guilm as he engaged his first opponent. The effect blinded the Dark Elves as they tried to flank Guilm who had been unaffected by the flash of light cast behind him.
The first Dark Elf barely had time to raise his weapon to defend the barrage of strikes that Guilm released. His first swing sent the blinded traitor-elf’s sword flying from his hand and clattering against the hard stone wall. The masterful swordsman danced around his foe, slicing a long gash along his thigh, then sidestepping and bringing a piercing stab into his soft belly. Guilm spun in midair, finishing him off with a stab into the elf’s upper back and tearing through to his chest. Guilm landed, facing his next enemy before the dead dark Elf had even touched the ground.
Guilm ran at the second, throwing his sword at him like a javelin. It sank deep into his gut, spewing forth a river of blood. Guilm ran pass him, seizing the Dark Elf’s weapon as he met the third. Crossing his swords at their hilts, he lashed outward like a pair of scissors at the still dazzled Dark Elf, cutting his sword hand cleanly off. The Dark Elf raised the bleeding stump to his face screaming in agony, then Guilm silenced him with a pommel strike to the back of his neck.
Guilm stared the fourth swordsman in the face. He had made his way through the first three in the matter of seconds, and now this one stood staring at him with a malicious grin on his face. The dark haired elf arrogantly turned his body towards the elven slaves, pointing his sword to the remaining two Dark Elves there. Each held a prisoner on their knees, standing above them with the serrated blade held tight against their throats.
Guilm stopped. His swords dropping to his sides, knowing he wouldn’t allow an elf to die for his mistakes. As a result, he knew it would cost his life very shortly. | To his right, Gilric had never slowed. The arrogant Dark Elf turned around hearing the heavy footsteps approaching. With a full charging speed and his shield raised before him, the armored knight slammed into the unprepared Dark Elf. Their bodies soared through the air and landed with a heavy thud, Gilric on top of the unconscious elf.
At the same time a spell came over the remaining two guards, timed perfectly for Gilric’s rushing strike. The guards’ muscles began to tighten, their swords falling from their hands. They stumbled backwards, seizing with horrific shakes and violent spasms. They fell against the stone wall, their bodies unable to move, though their minds felt every excruciating moment of the Paralyzing spell.
Guilm ran forward to the elves, making sure they were okay and began comforting them. “You’re safe now. We will get you out of here.”
Gilric came forward, grabbing Guilm roughly and pulling him aside. “Now what was that all about back there? You could have gotten us all killed with your stunt.” He motioned to Guilm’s recent actions.
Guilm stood his ground, unrepentant for what he’d done. “My people were enslaved! I will not tolerate an elf in chains by the hands of these, these -” he rolled one of the fallen Dark Elves over with his foot in disgust.
Gilric interrupted. “Look here you arrogant elf. We came here to find out where these Dark Elves are and to find out what they’re all about. Well, we know where they are, and we know they aren’t friendly. Now, we’re leaving. Or do I need to remind you that our two kingdoms are nearly at war and we need to stop it, somehow?”
Guilm shouted back. “If you must go, then go! I never asked any of you to come. But I’m not leaving until I free as many of my people as I can.”
Cyrallin tried to speak, to calm the two of them down. It was too late, the tension was too great, and their tempers were flaring. Gilric put his hand out to her as if to say not yet, then turned back to Guilm. “Listen elf; you wouldn’t have even gotten here without our aide. But just so we’re clear, without me protecting you it’d be your body lying on the ground instead of some filthy elf that chooses to live in a stinking hole.” He kicked the dead Dark Elf to drive in his point.
Guilm’s jaw tightened, his hands instinctively flexing his weapons. “Understand this knight, another comment like that and I’ll lay you down next to him.”
The two grew quiet, waiting for the other to act.
The other elves had begun to gather around them. At last one of them interrupted. “Guilm? Sire? We can’t stay here very long. Other work caravans will come through here. They will find us and the dead.” His words had no affect. The two continued to stare heatedly at one another.
Cyrallin finally stepped in, though speaking to the group of elves she made sure that Guilm and Gilric knew she was speaking to them also. “It’s alright; Sir Gilric and I will lead you out and take you to your people.”
The elf spoke up once more, “Leave? Oh no, we can’t do that!” He looked back to the other elves as if to make sure they were all in agreement, “We must get back to the city, and back to work.” The other elves seemed to share his thoughts.
The comment took a moment to sink in, and finally Guilm and Gilric both looked to the elf wondering why he would choose to be a slave.
Cyrallin was the first to ask, “Why would you want to go back there when we can offer you freedom?”
The answer came slowly. “It’s not that we want to stay here. We must!”
Gilric’s impatience showed, “But why?”
The elf began again, “It is something I think that only Guilm would understand.”
Guilm asked now, “And why is that?”
The elf-slave appeared deeply saddened as he spoke, “Because Guilm, the Dark Elves said they will kill him if a single elf escapes.”
Guilm didn’t understand. “Who? Who will they kill?”
The elf-slaves said in unison, “The last Lorekeeper.” | P2: E7: (Discussion: https://www.lordswm.com/forum_messages.php?tid=1847965)
The elven youth woke suddenly, rising slowly from his bed. From outside his locked door he heard the jingling of keys and the door swing open shortly after. A form moved gracefully into the room carrying a tray with the youth’s meal.
Laying the tray on the nightstand, the form greeted the still waking youth. “Good day to you Lorekeeper. I hope you have not wasted your time sleeping even to this late hour?” The usual tone of loathing was attached to his words.
The youth pulled the nightstand closer to him, beginning to eat his meal without interest. His visitor stared on, watching him as he ate. “So how is your food young Skunder?”
He had accepted the name without flinching this time; apparently it was becoming commonplace for him. Though sounding only slightly different than his true name, it seemed a corrupted and twisted version spoken in the tongue of the Dark Elves. Something deep inside of him cringed every time he heard it. Worse, he felt a small piece of himself die each time that he accepted that name, despite knowing that he had no say in the matter.
The last Lorekeeper answered, “It is the same as always. It fills the stomach, but its taste is vile.”
The visitor’s face grew grave, tight lines forming on his normally stoic face. “I have appointed the finest chefs in all of El’atrazhoul to prepare the most luxurious of meals for you, yet you continue to insult them and myself.” A slight color came to his pale cheeks as he continued to hold in his boiling rage.
Skyn’Da looked up to his visitor, a deep wisdom showing on his calm face. “Well then, maybe it is not the food, but those who prepare it, or even where it is prepared.”
The visitor stepped backwards to restrain his temper, moving to the window overlooking the underground city of El’atrazhoul. Down below he could see thousands of the surface elves moving about – slaves at work for their masters. He kept this in mind as he turned towards Skyn’Da, a sly smile playing on his face. “You look upon your people often, do you not, young Skunder?”
He replied, “You know that I do. You demand they see me for at least three hours each day, to prove that I am still here.”
The visitor’s smile never faded. “Yes. And you know why that is of course?”
Skyn’Da had stopped eating, seeing where this game of words was leading. “Of course. You have pressed this point since you returned from my homeland weeks ago. You are holding both me and my people prisoner on the premise that we will obey you because you threaten to kill a thousand of them if I disobey you, or kill me if they attempt to escape. Unfortunately, the power is in your hands in this situation.”
The visitor moved closer, slowly. Skyn’Da couldn’t help but picture a cat stalking its prey as the Dark Elf neared. He grabbed the opposite side of the nightstand, looking in the face of the youthful Lorekeeper, speaking at last, “Then remember this, dear Skunder. There will come a time that your unruly manner will cause your usefulness to dry up, and your people will no doubt suffer as of a result. I want you to think about that each time you insult your very gracious host.” He rose again, walking to and opening the cell door. Turning as he left his smile had gone from his face. “Show yourself to your people. Let them know you still live, for now.”
He continued to sit until the Dark Elf yelled, “Go now!”
Skyn’Da’s face grew hard. Gritting his teeth he answered his host and slaver, ‘Yes, Emissary Kh’Everst.
* * * * * | The gates to El’atrazhoul blew open with a stream of fire bursting through behind them. Tongues of the flames reached out to the guards waiting there, aware of only heat and pain. The flames surged around the screeching Dark Elves, but their cries were soon silenced.
The flame died and Gilric and Guilm rushed forward, swords raised awaiting the end of Cyrallin’s Fire spell. Behind them the other elves followed, with weapons of the defeated Dark Elf task masters. They lashed out at any surviving Dark Elves that came near them, clearing the area of nearby enemies.
The city of El’atrazhoul stood open before them. They stood within a massive cavern, cylindrical in shape which tapered in at the bottom. The living spaces of the city were dug into the walls of the cavern, as well as built on the cliff sides and upon the small open spaces provided. Countless bridges stretched from one side of the cavern to the other, as well as meeting different levels of the city by use of complex rope and stone designs. High above a vein of some unknown material stretched downward, reaching nearly to the bottom of the cavern. It glowed dimly, lighting El’atrazhoul with an eerie blue radiance.
To Guilm it appeared as a vile bee hive, where the workers – his own people – were forced to hull rock and debris as well as serve the Dark Elf lords in whatever their evil hearts desired. The hive was beginning to come alive, as the Dark Elves realized they had been infiltrated. Taskmasters had already begun locking their captives into caves in the walls and mobilizing for a full scale invasion. If only they knew how few in numbers their enemy actually was.
The lead elf-slave came to Guilm pointing upwards through the cavern to the greatest heights of the city. His eyes scanned the upper walkways and bridges and then higher, using the strange luminescent vein to guide his vision even further. He could see it now, the prison which held Skyn’Da, or Skunder, as the other elves now called him. A bright light shone there with a single form looking out, looking down at them now.
“Cyrallin, he is there! Get him out of there.” Guilm called to her.
The wizardess looked up, squinting through the gloom. Her human eyes could not pierce the darkness as well as the elf’s superior vision. “I can’t see it clearly Guilm. We must get closer. I can’t risk it, it could kill him as easily as free him.”
Guilm sighed deeply, gritting his teeth as he prepared for what he had to do. He pointed to Gilric motioning that he should protect Cyrallin, then called out to the elves in their own language, “Brothers, stand with me, and let us fight for freedom!” They responded with a loud yell and moved into position behind him. Together they charged upward, winding the stone pathways that encircled the perimeter of the cavern. Around them, the elven numbers swelled as they joined the charge, killing their taskmasters and taking up their weapons. The moving was slow though, as they were forced to travel the spiral stairs. Often Guilm would look back to Cyrallin who would shout out, “Further! We must get closer!” Repeatedly, Guilm cursed bitterly then pressed on.
A battalion of Dark Elf warriors stood before them, taunting Guilm to lead the others forward. He motioned for them to stay then he himself took a few steps forward, raising his swords in defiance. The Dark Elf warriors sneered then met the challenge, rushing forward.
Off to the warriors’ side a large pile of rubble began to glow with a slight radiance. Then with awesome fury the rocks there rose up and darted for the Dark Elves, crushing them beneath a pile of stone and ruin.
Guilm looked back to Cyrallin knowing that she had just saved his life. He silently thanked her then turned, continuing upward. | The elven population swelled, seeing the Dark Elves so easily defeated. They formed a long procession upon the pathways and bridges leading ever higher. Their shouts began to echo throughout the cavern as they demanded Skunder and their freedom be returned to them. Then the procession stopped. Guilm had reached a gateway. At his front stood a large stone wall with an iron door as thick as a tree trunk. Dark Elven archers covered its battlements and the sounds of a larger force behind it could be heard.
Great horns in the massive cavern sounded out now, and regiments of mounted Dark Elves poured forth from numerous entrances throughout the cavern. The riders were armed with long wicked lances, their edges pointed and serrated. They rode atop strange creatures, reptilian in appearance, though they were many times larger even than a horse. Their cruel jaws snapped, as angry at their masters as the foes which they could see before them.
Guilm called out, “Cyrallin! We must do it now! There is no other way!”
She understood, seeing the danger quickly closing in, and nodded in agreement. “Gilric, lead me forward.” The knight pushed through the crowds of elves coming to the forefront next to Guilm. Cyrallin appeared moments later.
Guilm looked to her already speaking, “Once you get him we can flee, and we won’t have to deal with what is coming.” Already the lizard cavalry had reached the tail end of the elven procession and began massacring the unarmed elves there. Their cries rose up through the cavern as their bodies fell from pathways and bridges to land in the darkness far below.
Cyrallin pushed these thoughts from her mind, focusing on Skyn’Da’s prison above. Her fist tightened, then with the magical words required to cast the spell, she swung upwards towards the prison. The fist materialized over their heads, seeking the target with deadly accuracy and force. Moments later it struck with a deafening sound, sending glass and stone debris upon elf and Dark Elf alike. Skyn’Da stood frozen in the space where the window once stood, wondering what his rescuers planned next.
The door swung open, Kh’Everst with two other guards burst in. The Emissary held a long swirling dagger in his hand, poised to strike down the Lorekeeper. His malicious smile was replaced with fright. He needed Skunder to stop this rebellion, without him they would soon overrun the small garrison left in El’atrazhoul. He moved forward, and Skyn’Da backed away, coming to the very edge of the shattered window, kicking pieces of debris down into the cavern.
Kh’Everst was only a few steps away, just out of stabbing distance. He slowly moved forward, sliding his feet while extending his hand to the Lorekeeper. “Don’t be a fool Skunder, come away from the window and we can work this out.”
The youth looked back into the yawning chasm behind him, seeing the deep pit of darkness, the swirling veins of light, and the armies at the fringes of war. He returned Kh’Everst’s stare, “I’d rather be a fool.” He pushed himself backwards from the window, falling into the nothingness that surrounded him. Kh’Everst leapt forward at the same time, attempting to reach out for him. Too late. The Emissary and steward of El’atrazhoul watched his precious Lorekeeper slip through the darkness and out of his reach. |
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