Further Tales of Faygaea

by Donald White

  FURTHER TALES OF FAYGAEA

  By Donald White

  Copyright 2020 Donald White

  Cover Art by Jeffrey Kosh

  Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored, or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (Electronic, mechanical, photocopying, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the publisher of this story, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  This story is a work of fiction. People, places, events, and situations are products of the author’s imagination. Any semblance to actual persons, living or dead, or historical events is purely coincidence.

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  THE ELFIN PATIENT

  Chapter 1: “Wounded Warrior”

  Chapter 2: “Bedside Manner”

  Chapter 3: “Village Welcome”

  Chapter 4: “Fugitive from Righteous Judgment”

  Chapter 5: “Under a Flag of Truce”

  Chapter 6: “Something More”

  GNOMISH PERSUASION

  THE PRIZE

  Chapter 1: “The Terms”

  Chapter 2: “Desires Fulfilled”

  Chapter 3: “Wild, Yet Civilized”

  Chapter 4: “A Regal Affair”

  Chapter 5: “To Earn the Love”

  Chapter 6: “A Curse and a Blessing”

  HIDDEN DEEP

  THE BARD AND THE WITCH

  Chapter 1: “Elf Hunting”

  Chapter 2: “The Opportune Moment”

  Chapter 3: “The Power of Desire”

  Chapter 4: “The Kiss and the Curse”

  Chapter 5: “That Strange Warmth”

  THE ELFIN PATIENT

  Chapter 1: "Wounded Warrior"

  Near the border between the kingdom of the elves and the kingdom of the Western men, a battle raged. The dark elves were at war with the high elves for control of Elfland itself. The dark elf Queen Nicnivin had rallied her forces against the high elf King Dagda, ruler of all elves. The Queen staked her claim by promise, and the King defended the right of succession. In the midst of a single battle, destiny would play its own part in the outcome.

  High elfin knights of the Blessed Court faced the dark knights of the Uncanny Court. A hail of arrows fell into the midst of the high elves. Breastplate gave way, and shafts sunk into knightly flesh. The high elves responded, bending their bows as the enemy charged towards them.

  The best shots hit, and dark knights cried out as arrows embedded themselves in their black armor. However, the Queen’s knights advanced, drawing their swords.

  Elfin steel met elfin steel. Knights were flung from their saddles. Both sides took their losses. But slowly, the tide of battle turned in favor of the dark elfin attackers.

  In the midst of the melee, a high elf urged his steed forward, piercing the foes with his long-handled sword. Sir Galen was focused and unrelenting. He stabbed dark knights, parried their thrusts and turned their attacks to the side. There was not a word from his lips, but his slanted green eyes told the story, and his thrusting blade wrote each word in the enemy’s blood.

  Sir Galen charged into the fray, impaling one enemy on his sword, and then yanking his blade free to parry another attack.

  A dark knight smirked, approaching him from behind.

  The high elf pressed the attack on the one he had been fighting, while causing the opportunistic knight to miss him entirely. He rode around and thrust forward.

  The dark knight clutched his neck to stop the profuse bleeding. He tumbled to the ground.

  Dark elves attempted to surround the high elf, but a few of his fellow knights rode to his aid, forcing them back.

  Sir Galen nodded his appreciation, and then turned to face his two foes.

  The dark knights smiled at each other, and moved to take him from different sides.

  Riding forward suddenly, the high elf focused on the one assailant. His blade struck the enemy’s chest, flinging the dark knight from his saddle.

  Turning swiftly, Sir Galen parried a thrust from his other opponent.

  The dark knight stared at him with sullen recognition in his green eyes. He held his sword in both hands, stabbing at the high elf.

  Sir Galen evaded the blow, jabbing swiftly.

  The dark knight twisted, knocking the high elf's blade aside.

  For a few moments, steel clanged against steel. The dark knight pressed the attack, forcing the high elf to remain on the defensive.

  Sweat dripped down Sir Galen's forehead, but he remained focused.

  As for the dark knight, the battle was taking its toll on him, as well. But he had a supreme goal in mind. He thought, I shall be your death, Sir Galen, murderer of the Queen's elves. For by my hand, they will be avenged.

  Sir Galen knew his adversary, calling his name to mind. Sir Devaro, knight of the false Queen. How often we have fought. Your heart has darkened against me: I who you once called friend.

  All around them, high elves fell to their dark elfin foes. The royal knights of King Dagda, could not withstand the cold determination of their enemies.

  Dark knights rode towards the embattled Sir Galen.

  The high elf glanced about, concerned. His remaining friends were few. The battle had turned in the enemy's favor. Still, he fought with all his courage, determined that if he should fall to their malice, that he would not fall alone.

  Sir Devaro fell back, for a moment, watching as his fellows pushed the high elf further towards exhaustion. The dark knight remembered another day, and the wine the two knights had imbibed. They had sang and then sat quietly, watching the lithe, graceful moves of the dancing nymphs. But another memory intruded upon him… a call for aid from Lady Felicie. Her screaming in horror, as a high elfin knight advanced towards her. The three little slain nymphets scattered on the floor around him...

  Sir Galen was growing weary. When he would fell one opponent, another would ride into the gap. He could parry their attacks, but not for much longer. He stabbed a dark knight, and the adversary slumped in his saddle. He blocked one sword, and turned his defense into a thrust.

  Sir Devaro charged into the midst, seeing his chance. He gripped his sword hilt firmly, and aimed forward.

  The beleaguered high elf turned as the blade penetrated his armor and entered his chest. He fell sprawling from the saddle.

  The remaining high elves arrived too late to aid Sir Galen. They fought with a purpose, angered at the loss of their courageous fellow.

  Sir Devaro turned to face them, his sword wet with elfin blood.

  The dark knights flanked him, and they rode as one into the remaining high elf forces. Soon, the battle had been decided.

  ***

  When the last of the fighting had ended, a dark knight rode up, with a lesser nymph clutching him from behind. She surveyed the death all around and dismounted, a smile creeeping across her thin lips.

  Sir Devaro approached, removing his helmet, revealing his straight black hair, and sharp olive features. The knight stood two heads taller than the nymph. "Little Lady Felicie.”

  The sprite had the same olive skin, the same sharp features and her black hair was fastened into a bun at her nape. She was not just shorter than the knight she was much smaller. The delicate creature bowed slightly, holding her staff out to the side. Its end was carved to look like a viper, with a green crystal wedged in the fanged mouth. "Peace, Sir Devaro. It seems the battle went well."

  The greater fay grinned down at her. "Yes, my love. The Usurper's elves have been vanquished this day. I hope that all our forces have done as well."

  Nodding, the witch repl
ied, "Our people are strong of mind and spirit, dear Devaro. We shall be victorious and Dagda shall feel death's touch. Blessed be Nicnivin."

  Sir Devaro nodded. "Blessed be Nicnivin."

  The nymph asked, "Did any of our foes escape your righteous hands?"

  "No beloved, all of the Usurper's knights fell..."

  Another dark knight drew near. "Sir Devaro."

  The addressed gave a look of annoyance, "Yes?”

  "My apologies, sir, but one of the enemy knights is missing."

  "Which one?"

  "Sir Galen."

  Lady Felicie's countenance darkened. "The murderer of our people lives?"

  Her greater he-fay lover bowed his head. "This cannot be. I stabbed him with my very own blade."

  The witch sighed, "Nevertheless, he is not among the fallen. Therefore, he may be among the living."

  Sir Devaro gave the messenger leave to depart. "Fear not. We will find him."

  The witch cradled her staff. Then, she answered "Devaro, my brave knight. You believed your enemy to be dead. He does not seem to be." She regained her composure. "Perhaps, you should send for the Dark Hunters."

  "My love, though I wish to be rid of him, I do not believe it is wise to pursue just one survivor."

  Lady Felicie's eyes flashed with anger. "Devaro, speak not to me of wisdom. It is not just any enemy whom you seek. This is a murderer of the Queen's elves. A dangerous individual, as I well know. How many more of our people will he slay while he yet lives?"

  Sir Devaro chagrined, "My apologies."

  She smiled at him. "Peace, dear Devaro."

  He placed a hand on her shoulder. "My love, the murderer will die. I will make sure of it." He released her and left to send for the Queen's Rangers.

  Lady Felicie cradled her staff once more, as a few tears rolled down her olive cheeks.

  ***

  He stumbled about, following no path, but moving nonetheless. Sir Galen could feel the fluid entering one of his lungs, making it hard to breathe. He held one hand against the deep wound, as he staggered on.

  Thoughts filled the high elf's mind; confused memories of training to be a knight of the Blessed Court. Other recollections of friends met along the way. Some filled his heart with joy. And then, there were the painful memories. All these assailed his weary mind. Is… death’s… touch… upon me? Has… my friend… become… my executioner? His cut… was without… mercy… He… meant… to slay me… The False Queen… has turned his heart… away from… all those… he did care about. Devaro… has succumbed… to her madness… And I… am to be… his prey.

  He struggled on, knowing not where his steps would lead. Before, he had always known what to do. But now, he felt like he was fading away. The flower… in the field… whose petals fall… when its end… has come… we… share… much… He coughed and spit out a mouthful of reddish saliva. Looking down, he could see the green grass of his beautiful land. The field… waits… for me…

  ***

  Outside the dark elfin camp, Sir Devaro spoke to a trio of Dark Hunters. "The enemy of our people yet lives."

  The three Rangers were clad in coarse, dark leather. They each had a longbow slung over one shoulder. A sword with a long handle hung in its scabbard at their side. The Lead Ranger remarked, "We will find them, sir."

  The Dark knight nodded, and then smiled. "I believe you speak the truth, Sharu. Let us hope that my belief is not in vain."

  Sharu pointed up into the sky. "The birds of the air set out daily to seek morsels for their young. Hope ventured sir, is never in vain."

  Sir Devaro stared at him for a moment. Then, he nodded. "The enemy we seek is a slayer of the Queen's elves. Among the Usurper's Court, he is known as Sir Galen."

  The Hunters were silent.

  Looking directly at them, the dark knight asked, "Do you know this one?"

  Sharu nodded slowly. "It is said that he is a murderer: a slayer of pixies."

  Another Ranger agreed, "He is without mercy. Or remorse."

  The third fixed his eyes on the knight. "We would gladly be rid of this beast in elfin form."

  Sharu nodded once more. "Take us to the place where he was last seen. And reveal to us what you know of our quarry."

  Sir Devaro gestured off to the side. "Over there, my steel pierced him deeply. There you must find the signs of his passing.”

  ***

  Later, near the border of the human kingdom Androtopia, a man clothed in armor, called to his fellow. "John, come over here."

  The other guard drew close. "What is it, Richard?"

  "I think it's an elf, one of the tall ones."

  John knelt beside the motionless form. He stared down at the strange, sharp features. Inside, he breathed a sigh of relief that the inhuman eyes were closed. The guard noticed the elf's blood-soaked hand, placed upon his breast. "He's been badly wounded."

  Richard nodded, and tried to check for a heartbeat. "He feels cool. Are we too late?"

  John shook his head. "All elves feel cool."

  Richard placed a hand underneath the creature's chin. "I feel a slight thumping within. But it is weak."

  "We must get him back to his people."

  "What? There's a war going on over there. We're here to safeguard all of Androtopia. None are to pass our borders."

  "This is a high elf, Richard. Notice the fairness of his skin. We've been at peace with his kind for generations."

  "Regardless, it isn't safe to pass the border."

  "Then, what should we do? Leave him to die?"

  Richard replied firmly "We can't leave our post."

  John sighed. "Can we do nothing for our ally?"

  Just as they were speaking, a wagon could be heard, coming down a nearby road. The eyes of both guards went wide. Richard said, "Stop them if you can. I'll wait here."

  John nodded, and dashed through the woods to intercept the travelers.

  ***

  Elsewhere, three tall figures studied the ground carefully, following a trail that few could see, and even fewer could follow. Their queen had called them the Dark Hunters. They were also known as the Queen's Rangers. Their talents were many, and their weaknesses few. There lived no quarry they could not track. They were silent killers. And they were hunting a knight of the Usurper’s Court.

  Sharu, was in the lead, and the two others followed close behind, calm and alert. The lead Ranger spoke softly, "The knight's movements were unsure. It seems the wound he suffered was indeed severe."

  One of the other two pointed out a splotch of red on a blade of grass. "His life was flowing from him, as well."

  The third ranger smirked. "He has made this all too easy."

  Sharu nodded. "Perhaps, we shall discover his corpse lying in the field." He looked back. "The battle site is not nearby. He stumbled farther than I expected."

  They heard the sounds of voices somewhere ahead of them. Sharu halted. He gestured to his fellows that he would go on ahead. Ducking low, he crept through the grass. The Ranger concentrated on the noises, until he could discern the speakers. "Those are the sounds of men. Are we near the border of their land?" He concealed himself in the tall grass.

  The Dark Hunter could see the two men, now. He noticed their armor and the weapons sheathed at their sides. "They appear to be guards. They have been commanded to keep out those... of my like." The guards spoke very little. And though the Ranger could hear what they said, it seemed to be without meaning. "I hear them, but they do not hear me."

  Sharu focused on the area around them. "There is no sign of the murderer, or his remains. But the tracks definitely lead here. That means they have seen him. And it would explain their distracted expressions."

  ***

  In the village of Lanor, just across the border of Androtopia, a woman was seated in a field. Flora relaxed, listening to the birdsong and feeling the warm breeze blowing through her long red hair. She thought, What a wonderful day. Feeling the warmth of the sun, and listening to the chattering of
the birds, while running my hands through the grass. She turned, hearing a wagon coming swiftly up the trail.

  Flora stood quickly, hurrying to meet her visitors. "Hello, there! What can I do for you?"

  Two men hopped down, and moved swiftly to the back of the wagon. One of them answered her. "Doctor Flora. Someone needs your help."

  She grew concerned, drawing near to see the patient. She stopped short. There, lying in the hay was a great elf. "You want me to help him?" The lying form was long and its features were strange and sharp. The armor was unlike any she had seen, though she had heard of it in a few tales. The elf was obviously male, and its pale skin marked it as one of the high elves. She gave a nervous sigh. "Very well, bring him inside."

  The creature was brought into the house and laid on a bed. The Doctor asked, "Where did you find him?"

  One of the men said "We were stopped by border guards and they asked us to take the elf to you."

  The other added, "The guards think it's still alive."

  Flora frowned. "This is my patient. Not a tree or a rock, but a person. And he needs our help."

  The rebuked man hung his head. "My apologies, doctor. It's the first time I have seen one of... his kind."

  She remarked, "Mine as well." The woman turned and called "Ayla! Cindy! Come in here, please."

  Two young women came rushing into the room. They saw what lay motionless before them and fell back. The taller of the two asked, "Doctor Flora, is that an elf?"

  "Yes Cindy, he is. And he needs our help. Both of you wash your hands and assist me."

  The smaller nurse Ayla drew close to the bed and looked at the strange features. The hair was more golden than hers, but somehow it looked different on him. "Is he alive?"