by D E Boske
They pushed their mounts to their limits, riding hard to reach the cluster of farms. The smell of charred wood hung thick in the air, making it difficult to draw breath. When they reached the first farm, they saw the destruction. There were less than fifty houses and many of them were aflame. The fields were burning as well, destroying the crops. Bodies lay scattered everywhere, goblin and human alike.
Kyler stood on the back of his horse and drew his bow, his elven heritage keeping him steady. He spotted his target, a sneaky goblin creeping up behind a farmer fighting off another of the smelly creatures. The arrow took the goblin in the throat, and it fell to the earth writhing, trying to draw a breath that would not come. The man had not known how close death had been. He fired off one more arrow, taking a goblin in the eye. He put up his bow to grab a low-hanging branch. He swung up, climbing onto a nearby roof. He could pick his targets more carefully up here.
Shaz jumped down from his horse and into the fray. He came to the aid of a younger boy who was over-matched. The only thing that had kept him alive thus far was desperation. He faced off against two goblins, one with a rusty sword and the other with a spiked club.
The bounty hunter’s face was grim as he drew his sword. The one with the rusty sword turned to face this new enemy. Shaz gripped his blade and brought it in a downward chop. The smelly creature brought up the puny sword to block and Shaz’ sword cleaved the blade in two, driving through the creature and nearly cutting it in half.
While the other goblin was preoccupied with the young boy, Shaz poked his sword through its back, the tip emerging from the chest, black blood dripping to the ground. The goblin had a confused look on its face, not understanding what had happened. The boy stared awestruck, following Shaz.
Darian was chanting the words to a spell called Soul Stealer, his hands going through the intricate weaves and patterns. When he released the magic, it took the form of blue snakelike fingers of flame. They raced through the air to pierce the goblins in the heart. It was a powerful spell, and about twenty-five of the creatures died from it.
Kyler was in awe as he witnessed the deadly attack by the Mage. He thought of how lucky he was that Darian was on his side. Instantly, he knew he was not alone. Purely on instinct, he rolled to the left just as an axe connected with the roof where he had lain. He dropped his bow, drawing his long sword instead. The blade gleamed and sang as he drew it forth. The elf could not hide his surprise at the figure crouched there ready to strike. It was not a goblin, but a much more cunning foe. Fire dwarves! What in Shenna’s name were they doing here?
The edge of its blade dripped gore from its previous victim. The elf steadied his breathing and waited for the dwarf to make the first move. The dwarf was less than half his height with bright red skin, greasy black hair and beard and dark of eye. The dwarf had a helmet on his head and chain mail of mithril.
The dwarf charged him, axe held high. Kyler anticipated, sidestepping out of harm’s way. The elf held the blade upright before his face. With his other hand, he motioned the dwarf to come in closer as he crouched, ready to strike. The dwarf came on, and Kyler struck out with his sword. It bounced off the mithril links flying wide of the mark.
Had the dwarf faced anything but an elf, the dwarf would have been the victor. The elf’s speed saved him, and he recovered quickly. As the dwarf made a backward slash to expose the hated elf’s ribs, Kyler spun, slashing upward, driving his blade into the armpit of the dwarf and severing the arm. Blood spouted like a fountain hitting Kyler, spattering his clothes and face.
The dwarf howled in agony and came on, taking up a club instead. The elf threw himself to the ground accepting a blow from the dwarf and dealt death in return. The club caught him a glancing blow on the ribs as he stabbed out with his sword skewering the ugly dwarf in the neck. He viciously turned the blade to open the wound further and the dwarf collapsed in a lifeless heap. He barely had time to draw breath when he saw the huge beast emerge from one of the burning barns, two limp forms clutched in its claws.
Darian saw the elf fighting the fire dwarf and knew he could handle it. He looked elsewhere for where he could do the most damage. The ground began to tremble. All thoughts of Kyler flew from his head as he saw the huge beast emerging from a nearby barn. Dorgansi! It must have sensed his magic.
“What the…” he began.
He took up his staff, beginning to chant his next spell. This was for him alone. None of these people could help him. He withdrew a pinch of Faerie dust from his belt pouch, holding it between his index finger and thumb of his left hand. At the critical time, he tapped his staff on the ground, threw the dust in the air and waved the staff in a dizzying pattern through it.
The stone flared to life and came free of the staff. It became a giant ball of flame with the stone at its center as it flew faster than the eye could follow. The monster raised its arm in a feeble attempt to block the blow. The magic burned through the arm, then tore through the head. The head of the monster exploded in a shower of blood and brain matter, finally toppling heavily into the burning barn.
The spell spent; the stone reappeared on the staff. Everyone felt a profound respect for Darian at this moment. Not normally a man of prayer, Shaz said a prayer of thanks that he had called a truce with the Mage, for now at least. Witnessing the Dorgansi’s demise, the remaining monsters fled. Even the fire dwarves wanted no part of the Mage. Kyler remained on the roof, his arrows cutting into the ranks of the fleeing horde.
At last, Kyler leapt down from the roof to land lightly on the ground. He came to stand beside his friend as all the folk shouted their thanks and praised the three companions.
“I guess one person really can make a difference,” said Shaz.
The elf merely nodded. He looked around at the devastation. They had lost much, but they had also saved much.
The elf was truly perplexed. Why attack such a small community? Just for the pure pleasure of killing, he thought. He worried for his homeland. Had they attacked there as well? He was even more anxious to get home now. He said a prayer to Starshenna to keep Destiny safe. If something happened to her and he was not there to protect her…
They rode the horses hard, trying desperately to reach Mishkalan. It was one of the largest cities of Corillia. The battle had cost them precious time, but not one of them complained. They all knew they did what was right.
It was fully dark by the time they reached the city gates. Two guards stood outside, weapons drawn. At the sight of the riders, they became stiffly alert. Kyler climbed down from the saddle and approached the guards.
“No one enters after dark. You should know that milord.” One guard said, addressing the elf.
“Boris, I need to speak to Gornin,” the elf replied.
“Milord, the captain of the guard is a very busy man,” Boris said.
“Yes, I know. He will want to hear what I have to say. Tell him Kyler Brighton of Kiri A’ Nouell is here to speak to him,” said the elf confidently.
“Yes milord. Right away!” the guard rushed away in a huff.
They were not kept waiting long. Apparently, the name of Kyler Brighton and Kiri A’ Nouell was important enough to make the captain of the guard come running. He swung the gate wide to admit them, giving the guards a stern look that spoke volumes.
“I’m sorry you were kept waiting out here. I was in the main guardhouse and came as soon as I could.”
“Can we talk in private?” asked the elf, eyeing the guards.
“Of course,” Boris said as he held out his hand to show them the way.
Mishkalan was a beautiful city. The buildings were all made of stone with roofs of pitch
and tile. The wide cobblestone city streets were kept very clean. The guards made sure this city was safe for travelers and merchants alike as most of their commerce came from them.
He took them through city streets, past shops with their doors shut tight for the night. Most of the city was asleep. Only the inns and brothels remained ope
n for business. He took them to his private chambers inside the main guardhouse.
“Now, what can I do for you Kyler?” asked Gornin, staring intently at the odd trio.
“Morphindinaetlus is loose again. He’s collecting goblins, fire dwarves and the gods only know what else. There is trouble brewing, Gornin. We just rode in from the farming community south and west of here and the monsters were pillaging and burning the homes, even the crops. We arrived in time to lend what aid we could. What perplexed me most was the beast we found there. Gornin, it was a Dorgansi.” The elf said quietly.
“There must be some mistake! The goblins and fire dwarves never work together. They hate each other. And the dragon hasn’t appeared in more than two centuries. As for the Dorgansi, they have been banished.” The shock on his face told Kyler that it wasn’t that Gornin disbelieved him, he was terrified.
“There is no mistake. I fought the beast myself,” said Darian. Gornin felt a new respect for the Mage.
“What do we do now?” asked the captain of the guard.
“We’re on our way to Kiri A’ Nouell. I must speak to the elven council. From there, I dare not guess. Be on your guard. There is no telling what they mean to do next. Be assured, we’ll send word once we know our position.”
“I do not doubt you Kyler. The elves always stand and fight by our side. What of the dwarves? Any word? We could certainly use their aid,” said Gornin seriously.
“I know nothing of the dwarves. I am certain word will be sent. They will come. They always do,” said the elf.
Gornin escorted them to an inn, making sure they had good rooms at a fair price. Kyler tried to object, but the captain held up his hand to stifle it. They stowed their gear in their rooms and went straight to the common room.
They took their time with their meal. Kyler had asked the captain to join them, but he politely declined, saying he must get back to work.
Kyler and Darian retired to their room while Shaz went to the brothel that just happened to be across from them. The elf and the Mage vowed to thank Gornin for that when next they met.
The elf frowned in distaste. He could not imagine lying with a woman like that, not know-ing how many came before, not to mention disease and sickness. He must remember that not all
people upheld the same moral code as the elves.
He thought back to his childhood and all the strict training he had undergone. The finest elven weapons master trained him. In the beginning, his training was harsh.
Kyler was determined to beat Chrystyn this day. He had been training hard for almost a year now. The sun had not risen yet as he made his way to the training ground. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end, and he went into a guarded crouch.
Chrystyn dropped silently from a silver birch, his golden hair catching the first rays of sun as they faced off. He went into his battle stance, weaving his sword and trying to intimidate his opponent. In the first weeks, it worked. Now, Kyler could look beyond it. He was calm; he was one with his blade.
It was then that Chrystyn rushed him, sensing his weakness. Kyler brought up his blade to block and the clang of steel on steel created an eerily metallic song. Chrystyn nodded his approval and moved in again.
This time he went into a forward roll, striking Kyler on the groin with the flat of his blade. Kyler went down hard, rolling on the ground and moaning painfully.
When at last he arose, the weapons’ master was long gone. He limped off, intending to take a walk before going home. He could not believe Chrystyn had beaten him so easily again. Would he ever be as good as the weapons’ master?
He gingerly made his way to one of his favorite places. He could hear the rush of water as it tumbled over the rocks to fall far below. He made his way down the gentle slope to a slab of rock jutting up from the earth. He could feel the cold spray on his face as he sat down. Just being here lessened his pain.
He thought the lesson through once more, trying to identify his mistakes. If he could identify them, he could learn from them and possibly prevent a repeat.
“Sometimes our problems fade with the setting sun,” offered Kinistaya, settling easily next to Kyler. Kyler did not notice his approach. Though Kinistaya was the oldest living elf, he still had his strength and agility. His age was undeterminable and his appearance, youthful. His dark hair he tied back with a leather cord.
“What troubles you Kyler?” asked the ancient elf.
“Chrystyn, I was so sure that I could beat him today. Yet, before I knew what happened, he beat me quite easily,” the young elf said, his eyes downcast.
“And quite painfully so I hear,” replied Kinistaya. Kyler nodded, acutely aware of the pain in his groin again.
“Ah the rashness of youth! You have much to learn yet and many more years of training
ahead of you. Yet you seem to think that in a mere season, you can beat the man who trains the elves. Do you think the Monarch would let him train his army if you could best him so quickly?” Kyler blushed furiously at the quiet reprimand. He knew what the ancient elf was saying was true.
“Chrystyn used to think as you do when he was in training. He thought he could take on Corillia. He made many mistakes, as will you. It is all a part of learning.” Kinistaya smiled at the shock on Kyler’s fair features. “Yes Kyler, I was the weapons’ master before Chrystyn, before your father promoted me to be his advisor. You must be patient. You have a natural skill that most elves must learn. You were born with it. Take heart and know that Chrystyn is proud of how you progress.”
Kinistaya rose and put his hand on Kyler’s shoulder. He stood there for a moment, looking at the young elf before him. He tutored Kyler the rest of the day. Kinistaya pointed out his strengths and weaknesses. He showed the young elf how to correct his mistakes. Then they sat and talked until the sun began to set.
Kyler’s spirits were high as he made his way home. He never knew Kinistaya had been the weapons’ master! After today, he had a newfound respect for the ancient elf. He took the elf’s advice to heart. He would be patient and more alert.
Kyler smiled at the memory as he slipped into Ru Nay’ Sha.
7
Morphindinaetlus was angry. The Mage had escaped yet again. His spies confirmed his suspicions; he was out of the area. There was a town not far from the Valley of Rah. It was time those people were made to talk. He gathered up a sizable force of goblins, with Grom leading them, fire dwarves and an ugly, but fierce species of demon known as Pit Shrykes. The dragon took to the air to clear the way for his minions.
﴾﴿ ﴾﴿ ﴾﴿
Kiriasti cradled his daughter’s head in his lap. He wanted to scream, but no sound would come. Tears streamed down his face as he stroked her hair. She looked peaceful, as if she merely slept. He wished that it were so. How would he tell his dear Malayna that their daughter was gone? Tyvale put a comforting hand on his shoulder, but all he wanted right now was for his precious daughter to open her eyes and smile at him.
O Shenna! Was victory worth the cost? Why could it not have been him instead? He was satisfied with his life; hers had just begun. Rain began to fall, lightly at first, and then quickly turned to a steady downpour that matched his dark mood.
“There is nothing more you can do for her, Kiriasti. Please come inside, you do yourself no good here.” Kiriasti was astonished to see the speaker. It was none other than Galavad, the Ac Quay’ A himself! The Ghinkai rose, gently lifting his daughter.
“How is Plistin? Did he make it?” asked Kiriasti hoarsely.
“Yes. He will be fine, but I worry for you. Malayna is waiting for you. She needs you,” said the Monarch.
“It’s my fault she died. I drew too much power, and the magic drained her life force.”
“You saved us all. We owe you much. Had you not done what you did, surely more elves would have been lost. All told, we lost five. Give her to me and go be with your family. Know that I am deeply sorry for your loss. I’ll personally make sure that she is properly prepa
red,” said Galavad. The battle mage let go of his daughter reluctantly, unable to come to terms with her death.
﴾﴿ ﴾﴿ ﴾﴿
The Copper Bottom was busier than usual. There was not a seat left in the place and still patrons filed in ordering drinks, laughing and talking loudly.
Destiny was pulling a double shift tonight. She didn’t mind; it helped keep her mind off Kyler. How she missed him! She wondered when she would see him again. Several weeks had passed already. She had not been feeling so well lately, and she worried because she missed her third moon cycle. How will I tell Kyler that I’m pregnant? Will he be happy or will he leave me? She thought, as she looked down to her gently swelling belly.
She bounced from table to table, her tray heavy leaden. She was so tired she could not wait for her break. She did not remember another time when there were so many people crowded in here. She deftly maneuvered to avoid the drunken men’s grabbing hands. She recognized most of the patrons, but there were many new faces as well. When at last her break came, she sat on a sack of flour and promptly fell asleep. She awoke to Nayna shaking her. Nayna was the other serving girl working with her tonight.
“Glad you should be ‘twas me who found you! Shermin’s been calling for ya girl,” Nayna
