by D E Boske
They had a meal of venison, bread, cheese and elven wine called Nykessa, which was a potent drink. There was much talk during the meal, and the elves relaxed even more. They began to tell tales, laughing and singing. Tynuviel began to sing a song in the elven tongue. Kyler was kind enough to translate for him, for he was unaware that Darian was fluent in elvish.
It was silent for a time when she finished. Killini did not make an appearance. The wine had warmed Darian, and Kyler moved to refill his flask, but he declined. How much had he drank already? It would not do to get drunk; that could be very dangerous. As it was, his head swam and everything around him seemed far, far away. One by one, the elves retired for the night, except Kyler and Tynuviel.
"You will be safe here tonight. You need not worry. Rest well," said Kyler, moving off by himself, but not before he shot a warning glance at his sister, who pretended not to notice.
She looked so beautiful in the firelight, and he almost moved to kiss her. What was he doing? He must end this before it got out of hand. Somehow, when she looked at him with those big blue eyes, he forgot what it was that he had been going to say. It must be the wine, he decided. What else could it be? Darian was not accustomed to losing his composure and he prided himself in the control he exuded over every situation he had faced.
"Well, good night and thank you for the song. It was lovely."
"Good night," she said, her voice husky and her eyes filled with desire.
Desire for what? The Mage thought. His vision blurred and he could not think straight. He must remember not to drink so much next time. Next time? He staggered off to find his bedroll. He found a good spot; the grass was soft beneath him, and trees provided cover from the wind. He rolled himself in his blanket and was soon deep in Ru Nay’ Sha.
Abruptly, he came awake. Had he heard something? Then he saw her coming from the shelter of trees. His heart stopped beating. The night was deep, dark and nothing moved. She was before him, wearing a red diaphanous gown. He struggled to look elsewhere, but his eyes always returned to her slim form.
"Walk with me," she said as she held out her hand to help him up. He took her hand and gingerly stood, but his head was clear. The effects of the wine were gone.
Unseen to them both, Killini watched them from above on the branches of an elm tree. His eyes smoldered with hatred, and his hand rested on a wicked looking dagger. Silently, he followed them.
She led him through the trees to a spot she had chosen. There was a small fire carefully concealed, and blankets strewn on the ground. There was no doubt why she brought him here.
She moved to kiss him, and he pulled back, why? He knew he wanted her more than anything in his life, but somehow, he could not bring himself to get close to her. A nagging thought was in the back of his mind, but he did not want to concentrate with her so near. The pain on her face was palpable, and it nearly broke his heart. She pouted and that only made him want her more. She moved to kiss him again and this time, he did not resist. Her lips were soft and sweet, the fragrance of her hair filled him with longing. She put her slim arms around his neck and drew him near. The world as he knew it disappeared.
A moan escaped his lips as he bent to take her in his arms. He did not know how much time had passed, nor did it matter. This was all that mattered, being with this beautiful woman who had come to mean everything to him. He knew it made no sense, they had only just met, and he knew nothing about her, but it did not matter.
The kiss became more urgent, more demanding, and he let his hands roam down her back. He lifted her gown, and she made no move to resist. She ran her hands through his hair and gently kissed his neck. She began to unbutton his shirt even as he pulled the gown over her head. He ran his hands over her smooth, perfect form. The ache inside of him begged for release. He kissed her again and gently pulled her to the ground.
Killini had seen enough. In a rage, he flew down the tree and attacked Darian, but the Mage was already moving. He extricated himself from the girl and with a mere thought; the rod was in his hands. He spoke the command word, and the rod became a staff.
Mounted on its top was an ancient, elven rune with a milky white stone at its center. The stone flared to life, shooting forth a brilliant beam of white-hot energy that enveloped Killini, flinging him into the base of a tree thirty feet away.
Darian was already chanting the words to a spell. Tynuviel pulled her gown back on and picked up her hunting knife.
Kyler and Plistin came running, took in the scene, and moved to Killini without saying a word. Darian let the spell die in his throat, letting the anger drain out of him. Killini was bleeding and unconscious, but still very much alive.
"What happened here?" Kyler asked as he returned to his sister's side. The Mage could not read the look in his eyes and did not know where he stood with the elf now.
"He attacked me. Tynuviel and I... we were... I merely tried to defend myself. I did not hurt him badly," replied the Mage. Kyler looked to his sister for her side of the story.
She glanced at Darian, and then stated simply, "Getting to know our friend better,” she gave that smirk again.
"Well, I can certainly understand why Killini acted the way he did, though I do not approve. I'm sorry Darian. He's very jealous of my sister.” In elvish to his sister he said, “You should have known better. I warned you of your behavior earlier."
"I'm sorry about this," said the Mage, as he gestured toward the small camp and Tynuviel.
"Don't be. My sister is old enough to know what she wants, and it seems she has chosen you. I think we'll be good friends, Darian. I'll leave you two to... whatever." He smiled and
signaled Plistin to bring Killini, and they retreated.
Darian recalled the rules of The Order. He could not be with Tynuviel. That was the price of being a Mage. Though he had never let it stop him before, it was different this time. This time, he actually cared for the girl. He nearly swooned and forced himself to remain calm. The very idea of caring for someone like this was utterly appalling to him. And frightening. He’d never suffered such emotions before. Why now? Did the god of Mages have a sense of humor? If so, this situation was not funny.
She approached him and went to stroke his cheek, and he recoiled as if bitten. She looked at him curiously, a hint of hurt and anger in her eyes.
"I'm sorry. I can't... we can't," Darian stammered. He was conflicted. He wanted her, but the price was too high and he was not willing to pay it.
“You didn't seem to think so a moment ago. What changed? Did Kyler say something to you?" she asked, visibly hurt.
"It has nothing to do with your brother. I can't; I'm sorry." Before he was tempted further, he grabbed his things and briskly walked back to his bedroll. What had he been thinking? He almost made a dire error.
Kyler silently watched him, no emotion on his face. In a few moments, Tynuviel came stalking back. She walked past them all without saying a word. Kyler did not miss the look she shot at the Mage. He could guess what had happened. Or rather,
what didn't happen. Curiosity overcame him, and he rose to sit with Darian.
"So, what happened? Few men can resist her charms. Do you want to talk about it?" asked the elf leader. Darian sighed, deeply regretting the way things worked out.
"I told her we couldn't continue… it must have been the wine. After Killini attacked, my head cleared. I didn't know what I was doing. She doesn't understand. I tried to explain it without hurting her feelings." Kyler nodded, saying nothing and the Mage was glad for that.
"You are more than welcome to join us for as long as you like, unless you have other plans. A man of your talents would always be met with cordial consent," the elf said, staring out into the dark night.
"Thank you. I'd like that,” replied Darian, not knowing what else to say.
"Listen, my sister will probably not give up. She usually does not when she sees something she wants. I do not think she believes you. For that matter, neither do I." Without another word,
he rose and went back to his bed.
Darian was unable to slip into Ru Nay’ Sha the rest of the night. He could not get the beautiful elf out of his head, or his heart. Nevertheless, the rules were clear. He removed the staff from his belt and stared at it. It shrank in size to about six inches in length. He spoke the
command word, Chi Ni’ Aya, and the staff grew to its normal length, six and a half feet. This represented everything he was; everything he trained so hard for all his life.
He knew then that he would be alone for all his days. If he was being honest with himself, deep down, he knew that things would not change just because he had left Mogan Dar. He burned her image into his mind as he closed his eyes in a silent prayer. It all seemed so unfair to him. No Mage of The Order could marry. However, they were allowed to have women visit them whenever they wanted. The Order prided themselves on providing the best female companionship for their Mages.
The rest of the night passed painfully slow, but he did not grow tired. He sat next to the fire, pulled out a small leather tome and tried to read. He could not concentrate on the words and symbols though.
Instead, he saw her face as she smiled at him. He sighed and closed the book but did not put it away. He was determined to find a way to have both. If it killed him, he would find a way.
2
He came out of his reverie in time to watch the sunrise. Kyler was up and moving about already and the elf was calling out to him.
"Are you alright?" asked the elf, worry etched in his fine features. "I've been trying to get your attention for several moments now." When he approached Darian, he grimaced. "Didn't rest well, did you?" It was more of a statement than a question.
"No. I didn't," replied the Mage. Kyler began rummaging through the gear that Darian had stored in a patch of thick undergrowth. He seemed to find what he had been looking for.
"Let's eat,” he said, with such enthusiasm that Darian laughed in spite of himself, and rose to help his friend. They built up the fire and cooked some salted pork. There was bread, a block of cheese and some fruit. They washed it down with water from their leather water-skins.
"So, what's on your mind my friend? I can tell something's bothering you," asked the elf half-seriously.
"It's nothing," Darian replied quietly. I'm in love with your sister, and I miss her so much that I feel I'm losing my mind; he thought to himself.
He could not tell Kyler the truth, so he kept silent. Darian and Kyler had been traveling in concert for a little over two years now, and the Mage sincerely wanted to confide in him.
Maybe together, they could solve this problem.
A warning bell sounded high and keening. Darian snatched up his staff, commanding it to return to normal size. The stone on the Staff of Power was glowing red. The elf readied his bow and kicked out the fire.
It grew dark suddenly, as if the sun had fallen from the sky. Kyler scanned the horizon. It remained cloudless and blue, but now the wind picked up and tore at the trees. They heard a high-pitched screech that sounded much too close, and it was getting closer by the second.
“Dragon!” called Kyler. “Run for cover!” he cried. His hair flew wildly and stung his eyes. He had no time to tie it back. They threw themselves to the ground behind huge boulders that were scattered close to the trees, which had grown in tightly knit groups, blocking the view from above. They could hear the beating of massive wings, so powerful it could be felt in their chests, as the beast hovered over the grove.
Then the massive, horned head became visible through a break in the trees. Kyler’s face paled at the sight of Morphindinaetlus, the mighty green dragon. Thick, shimmering dark green scales that mere weapons could not penetrate, covered his massive bulk. He had huge claws that could shred his victims like parchment, and his wingspan topped three hundred feet.
More than two centuries had passed since he last appeared. What was he doing here? The dragon hovered there a few more moments, and then raised his head, expelling a searing blast of fire. The beast let out a final scream and flew away to the north.
In moments, they lost sight of it altogether. They lay where they were for a few more moments collecting their thoughts. Kyler was the first to rise, and he held out his hand for the Mage. Darian firmly gripped his hand and pulled himself up. They dusted themselves off and began packing immediately.
“I must turn to the east and warn my people,” the elf said gravely.
Darian nodded, never a doubt in his mind as to where his road lay. He would accompany his friend. Kyler smiled, happy that his friend would not desert him; even when it meant running into Tynuviel.
The elf could not shake the feeling that the dragon’s appearance had something to do with his friend.
Darian couldn’t wait to see Kiri A’ Nouell again, but more importantly, he was anxious to see a certain elf maiden. Just the thought of her made his heart hammer inside his chest, from excitement, not fear. They had many days, weeks really, of travel ahead of them.
By the end of the day, they should reach the town Limmin. They frequented an inn there whenever they were in the area. The Copper Bottom was the nicest inn that Limmin had to offer.
Kyler was sweet on one of the serving girls and had been courting her when ‘ere he visited the
inn.
The day was warm, the sun bright, and the air sweet and fragrant, the kind of day when all your cares just drifted away. The packs they carried were not full, so they could set a quicker pace.
Kyler constantly scanned the sky searching for any sign of the dragon's return. There was nothing, and after a while, he began to relax, but he did not let down his guard.
They did not talk much. Through the months of traveling together, they had forged a deep friendship and the silence was a comfortable one.
By mid-day, they were halfway to Limmin. They were making good time, but needed to stop for a rest. They chose a spot and as they neared to a halt, Kyler felt that something was not right. His keen elven senses screamed at him.
He motioned to the Mage, and Darian came up beside him, staff in hand. Kyler pointed at the earth, but Darian was not sure what he was supposed to see. Kyler bent and put his hand to the earth. He did a quick study of the area and came back to the Mage. Darian could tell something was wrong even before the elf spoke.
"Goblins came through here three days ago, there was a scuffle. I found some blood on the dry grass. They came from the south and are heading north. They numbered around thirty. There were also some tracks…”
Something is wrong, Darian thought. Something about those tracks bothered the elf more than the rest.
"By the depressions it left, I'd say it stands at least eight feet tall and walks on the balls of its feet."
Darian looked at the ground again and still saw only yellowed grass dried out from too much sun and too little water. The Mage accepted the news without question. He admired the elf's tracking abilities.
"What now?" asked the Mage. He decided to let the elf determine their course of action. Pride was never a factor between them.
They both hoped that the direction the goblins went was a coincidence. The great wyrm flew off in the same direction. Their rest forgotten for the moment, they headed off north, Kyler's sharp eyes picking out the trail.
As it was growing dark, they neared the monster’s camp, the Valley of Rah. The elf felt a sickening twist inside. There had been many sacrifices offered up to the dark god here.
The fire burning was a bright beacon in the darkening sky. The goblins showed no fear, feigning all semblance of concealment. This bothered the elf more than he let on.
Kyler motioned for the Mage to circle left, and he would go right. As silent as death, Kyler
pulled a long hunting knife from his belt and moved off in a crouch. He approached the campsite cautiously.
They were at the northern border of the Logan Plains and the Valley of Rah lay just ahead. The night grew dark around them. Kyler was about three hundred fifty feet a
way from the rim when he noticed the first goblin sentry. The goblin was brutally ugly, and it carried a long rusty spear. It had a gold ring through its right ear, and the rags that covered its green body were grimy and blood stained.
Kyler stayed silent while the hideous creature finished its rounds. Then he made his move, the creature unaware of the elf’s presence. It was in the middle of a big yawn when Kyler slit its throat. It made a soft gurgling sound as Kyler let it fall to the earth. He cleaned his blade on the grass, sheathing it once more.
He crept along, scanning ahead for any movement. He circled the huge valley rim looking for signs of goblins or other dark creatures. He was halfway around when he saw the bushes move. There was no wind. He took up his ash bow and crept forward.
The goblin was crouched behind a thicket of dense bush in the midst of relieving itself when the arrow took him between the eyes. It toppled silently to the earth, quite dead. Kyler crept to the edge of the rim, but was unprepared for what he saw there.
Darian moved off to the left, silently grateful for the time spent with the elf. Kyler taught him how to move quietly and not be so clumsy, which came in handy when he either did not want to, or could not use his magic. Just in case, he cast a spell of silence. No need alerting the local population, he mused darkly.
His night vision was nowhere near the elves’. Tucking the staff back into his belt, he withdrew one of his daggers instead; the keen edge gleamed in the moonlight. He crept along without fear.
It wasn't long before the first goblin came out from the bushes, wiping the sleep from its eyes. The Mage loosed the fine blade, and it flew true, taking the smelly creature in the neck.
He canceled his spell of silence to cast an invisibility spell instead, and ran to retrieve the blade. The goblin died with a look of surprise on its ugly face, and for some reason, this was amusing to the Mage.
When he removed the blade, a steady stream of blood gushed from the gaping wound. He wiped the blade clean on the dead creature’s clothes and then continued to their objective.
