Wothlondia Rising: The Anthology

by Gary F. Vanucci

  Chapter 4

  Maturation Process

   

  The young high elf had recently celebrated his twentieth winter, and with that had reached a certain level of frustration where his own magical aptitude was concerned. Better said, it was his father who had the issue with his incompetence—Elec had come to grips with his own misgivings years prior. Making matters worse for him was the ascendancy of his siblings in that regard. His brother and sister were both progressing with better than anticipated results, making Elec’s failings even more prominent. It was not their fault, he knew, but it was a very real fact that he could not change, despite his many attempts.

  His sister, Aeona, and his brother, Elandion, both older than he, were not only able to tap into the energies within the plane of Arcana, but they were capable of bending those energies and manipulating them with such command that they made them their own. They were masters of the arcane arts whilst Elec was unable to harness even the simplest of magics. He could cast some of the minor spells known collectively to the high elves of Acillia that resulted in subduing or hindering, or which had to do with trivial callings to the elements as opposed to commanding the powers of a raging storm.

  Such magic was common knowledge to the high elves of Acillia, especially those of superior social standing, such as the Stormwhispers were. These high elves included Elec’s Uncle Faorath, who often visited his nephew in his workspace where he would be poring over tomes and texts continually in any subject other than those concerning arcane focus.

  “Greetings, nephew!” Faorath announced loudly as he entered the room. Elec, seated at his desk, automatically grabbed a text with preparations for spell-casting on its pages and opened it in an attempt to feign studying.

  “You are not fooling me,” Faorath said, shaking his head and standing with hands on hips. His uncle had wide, reflective eyes of the deepest amber, and golden blonde hair that accented the hue of his eyes. He wore the finest nature of clothing, with loose fitting sleeves that draped loosely over his slight frame. His breeches were dark blue, his shirt was silver with gold accents and he wore sturdy leather boots. There was a hint of golden jewelry highlighting his wrists and fingers.

  “You may be able to dupe the others, but not me,” he finally added.

  “Fine,” Elec sighed, knowing that his uncle’s sight and perceptions were more acute than those of a bird of prey. This was also the reason why he was one of the most accomplished of all the Wind Riders of Acillia.

  The young elf slid the spellbook to the side, revealing his true project.

  “Tinkering with mechanisms still, I see. And what is this?” Faorath looked at the device. He moved it aside and uncovered carefully drawn plans of mechanisms together with notes and alchemical theories beneath those. Faorath simply shook his head and smiled. “Your secret is safe with me, Elec. As long as you are passionate about what you do, I am content with that.”

  Elec stood and hugged his uncle tightly, smiling and staring up at him, for Faorath was extremely tall, well over six feet in height.

  “You know that your mother only wants you to be happy, too,” Faorath stated. Elec’s white eyes widened at that particular topic and he shook his head, tousling his long, curly black hair. “But Father—“

   “Speak not of Keryth, lad. He only knows what he was shown. He pushes you and your siblings too hard to master your arcane abilities, just as his father pushed him. He knows nothing else.”

  Elec looked up at his uncle once more and sighed, knowing deep down that magic and its mysteries would always remain just that—mysteries—as far as he was concerned.

  “I have something you might find useful,” the elder elf declared, changing the subject. He held up a brown leather belt with many evenly spaced loops along its surface. Elec looked at it quizzically and then took it from his uncle’s outstretched hand.

  “Those loops should be solid enough to hold your flasks. I had it made especially for you.”

  “So that is why you took a flask,” Elec exclaimed in understanding. He slid one of the beakers in place and it held firmly. He began to place more of them in the loops, one after the other, until the belt was nearly full. He then strapped it around his waist and over his shoulder and looked at his uncle again for confirmation. Faorath nodded approval that he had outfitted the belt properly. Then he helped Elec adjust it so that it fastened tightly. Elec beamed and nodded in appreciation of the gift.

  “But father will never approve of my pursuit of alchemy,” Elec sighed in a deflated tone.

  “No,” agreed his uncle. “In this you are correct.”

  Elec removed the belt and regarded it attentively, admiring the craftsmanship and detail more closely.

  “I had a very dear friend make that for you,” Faorath announced.

  Elec’s white eyes stared up at his uncle; a small black dot of an iris could be seen staring back at him. Elec had extremely rare features for elves in general, let alone high elves, owning a deep blackened head of hair. His eyes revealed the milkiest of white pupils surrounded by a black iris—the exact opposite of his own and any eyes Faorath had ever seen. There was no denying that the boy was unique.

  “Who made the belt?” Elec asked.

  “Ah, yes—the belt. Shardrin made that for you. He is one of the most skillful leatherworkers in the whole realm.”

  Elec nodded in agreement.

  “You know of him?” Faorath asked in turn.

  “Aye,” Elec nodded, inspecting the belt further. “He is the one who has been instructing me in the ways of the mechanic.”

  Elec went back to his desk and held aloft one of the mechanisms, an expertly crafted intertwining of gears and cogs. It was one of a series that he had to practice with. When fully assembled, it formed some sort of trap.

   “I should have known,” Faorath responded. “He is an expert when it comes to those devices there. He is unequaled in that regard. The whole business of trapping is one of his strong suits. Quite the rogue, that one!”

  Elec certainly had chosen a difficult path to walk, Faorath thought, knowing full well that Keryth had his hands full where his son was concerned. He would be hard pressed indeed in attempting to bend the boy’s will, Faorath mused with irony. He stood and watched Elec fiddle with the mechanism, expertly removing pins and gears, replacing them as fast as his hands would allow. Faorath could not help but be impressed by the harmonious interaction of his nephew’s fast mind and digits as they set to the task.

   “You might want to think about having him teach you a few lessons in the finer points of swordplay, too,” Faorath suggested. Elec merely nodded, transfixed with his undertaking.

  “Be sure to get some rest tonight, for tomorrow is a big day for your sister and the family,” Faorath added. Aeona was to be married by week’s end and tomorrow was the rehearsal.

  Elec was so engrossed that he did not even notice the absence of his uncle until the call for supper that eve, several hours later.

   

   

  Elec awoke the next morning to the sound of a soft chime coming in through an open door. One of the elders of Acillia had come to greet him and stood in the doorway, here to prepare him for the wedding ceremony. Elec winced at the thought. He squinted against the newly risen sun freshly entering the room as the shade was thrown open. He pulled his hair back and dressed himself, all the while listening to the elderly high elf mouthing instructions as the sun fell over him and began to warm his flesh. This went on for over an hour. He listened distantly to the elder speak, nodding occasionally, while grooming himself and fiddling with a trap mechanism.

  Elec knew of the elder, stringy and lean, with hair so white it was a contrast to even his own pale flesh. Try as he might, he could not remember his name. Instead, his mind went to what responsibilities he and his friends and family were assigned for the wedding and how they should get ready for them. Elec was to cast the simplest magic of elven lights—quite possibly the mo
st rudimentary of all elven sorceries intended to invoke alternating lights that shone intermittently, and often used in celebratory events. Once the spell was in effect, sparks and lights shot from the hands and into the sky, shining and popping with multi-colored light.

  The elder led Elec out of his chamber and down the spiral stairway to the dining room, passing through it and into the foyer. Elec swung the door wide, noticing that all of his family had left already. They had probably been escorted to the site for the wedding—a spectacular hall not far from his home where, he was told, his own mother and father had been married.

  Once outside, Elec drew in a deep breath of fresh air. He took in the beautiful blue sky and the mountain range to the north that quelled the cold air and breeze from that direction, cutting it to a light and brisk gust once it arrived at the village proper. He heard a caw from above and looked to the sky to see many of the giant eagles and griffons flying with high elves mounted atop them.

  His uncle instructed the Wind Riders, leading his kin in the training of these exotic creatures for use as steeds. It was one of the more famous endeavors for which the high elves were known throughout the realm.

  Elec followed the elder as he led him through the village and to the façade of the glorious and expansive hall. The exterior of the building followed his people’s basic theme of spacious environments with flowing, curvaceous architecture and an organic, soft feel throughout. Round edges and domed roofs were the staple of this type of construction. Beautiful arches, adorned with intricate stonework, graced every part of the grand hall. By contrast, the high elves’ cousins, the forest elves, created structures of great height, integrating the trees in which they built their homes to keep all in a natural state. Both races of elves enjoyed spiral staircases, however. The forest elves made use of them to reach their homes in the trees, while the high elves favored them within their living spaces as a connection to their ancient past.

   Elec entered the hall and was shown where he would be stationed for the wedding. One of the elders pointed at the perch upon which he would stand in order to bathe the ceremony in the multi-colored lights.

  Keryth Stormwhisper noticed his son enter and went over to him. “I assume that you will be able to handle the minor task which you were assigned?”

  His father looked down on him with an intimidating look. He was taller than Elec, with silver hair and amber eyes that commanded respect. He was a well-known and powerful mage, well respected as a leader in the multitude of smaller villages on the island they called home.

   “He will be fine,” called a woman’s voice from behind. It was a soothing voice that made Elec feel at ease, despite his father’s attempt at making him feel otherwise. Alaise, his mother, was a beautiful being with eyes of violet and hair of bright gold. She bestowed a smile upon her son that warmed his heart.

  Alaise pulled him away from his overbearing father and sat him next to his sister, Aeona. Her husband-to-be, Anthalion, was off doing his own preparations as the male elf was given more responsibilities and speeches to make than the bride-to-be. Elec’s friend and Aeona’s former lover, Jhaeronas, was present, at Alaise’s behest.

  Alaise was fond of Jhaeronas and had remained friendly with him and his parents, always admiring his numerous achievements within the Circle of Mages, the spellcasting elite of Acillia. He was also a friend and confidante to Elec, helping the elf in his arcane endeavors on many occasions. Jhaeronas and Aeona had intended to marry a few years prior, but Keryth did not approve of their relationship. Many within the Circle of Mages believed there to be an unhealthy rivalry between Keryth and the younger elf. Elec knew that, at the very least, Jhaeronas harbored resentment toward his father, and may even have held Aeona responsible for not protesting more vigorously, though he had never said it. Jhaeronas had always been the jealous type and held a vengeful fire deep within his amber eyes. Elec was to be positioned near Jhaeronas at the ceremony and would certainly keep one eye on him.

  At the feast that evening, Elec watched Jhaeronas stare at Aeona and he knew that, despite his outward appearance and statements to the contrary, his friend was still in love with his sister. Elec chewed his food and contemplated that for the rest of the evening, feeling a deep sympathy for him. A broken heart was something that could never fully mend, he was told.

   

   

  The three days passed quickly and the day of the wedding was upon them. The scene was a glorious event with hundreds of the Acillian high elves from many of the surrounding villages in attendance, and all dressed in the most noble of garments. The sight brought to mind exactly how influential a figure his father was, Elec thought, taking in all of the pageantry and splendor. He was truly happy for his sister and his brother-in-law to be, yet felt sorry for Jhaeronas at the same time. Elec could not shake the feeling that his friend was hiding something from him though he had not been able to pry free this deeply buried information, despite many attempts over the last few days. He was fearful of the melancholy within Jhaeronas and wondered about bringing it to the attention of his brother, but Elandion was directly involved in the ceremony and was nowhere to be seen at the moment. Elec climbed the spiral stairwell to take his place in the rear section of the hall. Jhaeronas was stationed to his right.

  As the wedding began, beautiful elven music sounded harmoniously from both stringed and wind instruments, swelling throughout the acoustics of the great hall. The ceremonial participants preceded the bride and groom into the hall in a stately procession.

  Elec watched as the wedding party reached the beautifully carved platform at the front and took their places. The dais was adorned with brightly hued fabrics in reds, blues, greens and yellows, crafted by the finest artisans of Wothlondia. Ivory, tan and even gold and silver candles were on display and mirrored by the three ornamental candelabra that surrounded the platform upon which they now stood. It was truly a magnificent and breathtaking sight.

  Elec watched Jhaeronas staring at one of the candelabra directly above the elven couple. He must have sensed Elec’s gaze because he turned to regard him with a wild-eyed stare before reverting his eyes to the flickering candles. He began to wave his hands wildly above the crowd. Not a soul amongst the audience caught the display as the entire throng was transfixed by the ceremony. Not even Anthalion’s kin, stationed at the opposite side of the balcony, took note of Jhaeronas’ gyrations and gestures.

  Elec was completely unsure what his friend was doing, but instinctively decided that it was not well intended. He quickly began to counter the spell with a simple magic meant to ‘shackle’ the target’s arms. In this case it would interrupt Jhaeronas’ spell casting at the very least, leaving Elec to confront him about his intent later. He waggled his fingers and mouthed the incantation, willing the effects of the spell into the central plane as he’d been taught many times. But, as on many of those prior occasions, Elec realized with horror that he had failed once more to bring the powers of Arcana into being—had failed once more to cast the required spell as it fizzled into nothingness. Before he could chastise himself about it, Jhaeronas was at the end of his incantation. Elec’s heart hammered in his chest as time seemed to slow to a crawl.

  He watched helplessly as a minute bolt of arcane energy traversed the hall, hitting the heavy chain that fastened the candelabra above his sister and Anthalion. Elec screamed at Jhaeronas, infuriated that his friend could do something so dishonorable—and to his sister of all people. As the call echoed through the expansive hall, all eyes were diverted from the couple and turned to the source of the outburst, landing upon Elec. All eyes but Anthalion’s, that is.

  Anthalion reflexively shoved his bride out of the way as the heavy wooden fixture came to a stop upon his slender frame. As its weight landed squarely on his back, he winced and yelped in pain. Aeona fell awkwardly from the dais upon which they stood, twisting her ankle and hitting the stone floor.

  The assembled spectators missed the commotion at the front of th
e hall as they had all turned to face the balcony at the rear. The guests whirled once more when they heard the sound of the candelabra bursting into countless pieces on the body of the hapless would-be groom.

  Suddenly, Keryth uttered a spell called Hand of Fate. An arcane form shivered into view, taking shape as the hand of the elven gods, summoned from the plane of Arcana. The massive thing enveloped Jhaeronas within its mighty grasp. It yanked him from his perch atop the balcony, lifting him into the air and holding him helplessly before it as the crowd parted. Several other mages began to prepare spells to aid Keryth if necessary, not knowing exactly what was happening.

  Keryth’s face was a mask of rage as he commanded the magical conjuration expertly, suspending the helpless Jhaeronas aloft.

  “How… dare you!” Keryth thundered. Jhaeronas remained silent and more of the throng backed away from the furious Keryth. Several rushed to help the fallen lovers at the front of the hall, including Alaise.

  Elec watched dumbfounded. He was rooted in place, though not from any magical effect—he was frozen in shock at the recent events. He watched as some officials ran to assist Keryth, coaxing him into releasing Jhaeronas from his spell and then grabbing the limp elf as he was freed. The punishment for such a crime against his people was exile, Elec knew. Jhaeronas would no longer be welcome within any of the areas on Acillia and, if he were to return, it would be under penalty of death. The elves escorted Jhaeronas away unceremoniously. He managed to glance up toward Elec, who noted a distant look in his former friend’s tear-soaked eyes. But just for an instant though, he came to himself, and pitifully mouthed the words, “I’m sorry”.

  After Jhaeronas was taken away, Aeona was helped to her feet and divine healing was given to Anthalion by one of the elder priestesses of The Dreamer. She knelt at the groom’s side wearing the familiar stars and half-moons raiment of her goddess. She channeled radiant healing energy into Anthalion’s body, closing the worst of the wound and attempting to mend the broken bones he’d surely sustained near his ribcage, where the brunt of the candelabra’s blow was first absorbed.

  Elec descended the spiral staircase from the balcony and joined his mother and sister, lending them support. Keryth scanned the chaotic scene and then pulled Elec away from the rest of the family to stand near the center of the hall. Faorath slowly followed them and purposely eavesdropped on the conversation.

  “What happened?” Keryth asked, hands on hips, staring into Elec’s exotic eyes in an attempt to discern the truth.

  “I—I saw him moving to…,” he stammered, looking down at the floor then back up to his father. “He began casting a spell and I tried, but I… I wasn’t able to stop him,” Elec admitted in defeat, once more feeling overtly inadequate and strangely guilty under the scrutinizing stare of his father.

  “So, you could have stopped him if you were even half the mage that your namesake suggests?” Keryth said mockingly, jabbing at his already sensitive frame of mind.

  “Keryth, you have no—“           

  “This… is of no concern to you, Faorath!” Keryth barked in response to the interruption by his brother-in-law. “If Elec were your own flesh and blood, then you could handle it your own way.”

  “He is my flesh and blood,” Faorath countered in a quieter tone as several of the crowd turned their attention on the quarrel. Keryth’s stare fell this time on Faorath, as if daring him to speak again. A moment passed as the two of them locked eyes but spoke no words. Faorath held his ground, though, and did not move away.

  Keryth returned his attention to his son once more. Elec kept his head down and his shamed gaze upon the floor while his father crossed his arms over his chest and shook his head in disgust. But, before he could further humiliate him, Alaise, wide-eyed, grabbed Keryth by the arm.

  “Please! Not here and not now! We have more important business to attend to,” she whispered to her husband, indicating the fallen Anthalion.

  “This is not over,” Keryth said, directing his comment to Elec and then turning to Faorath and adding, “you, too.” Faorath stared him down once more and then looked sympathetically to his nephew.

  “It is not your fault, lad.” Faorath laid a reassuring hand upon his nephew’s shoulder. He spoke the words with conviction to Elec, as if they were fact and not opinion.

  While they were speaking, much of the crowd dispersed. However, some elves remained to help where they could in cleaning up the now postponed ceremony. Elec could see the priestess of The Dreamer still chanting prayers and administering magical aid to Anthalion.

  Faorath and Elec both neared the dais, Elec moving closer to his mother and sister. It appeared that Anthalion was almost fully healed. He complained of a pain that still lingered in his ribcage, but the wound was closed and there was no sign of injury beneath the tunic, now blood-soaked, that he’d worn for the ceremony.

  His father spoke no further to Elec, but despite what had happened to them, Aeona and Anthalion both offered him words of support. None of it made him feel better, however, and he joined in the clearing the hall before retiring somberly to his room for the evening.

  The next day, Elec set to task, working the springs and latches of a mechanism occasionally, while working his alchemical solutions, barely eating or speaking to anyone else. His mother finally entered his room late that evening.

  “You are not eating,” she declared, holding out a plate of food. Upon closer inspection, Elec recognized it as his favorite—scrambled giant eagle eggs with a side of boar meat. He could not help but smile at his mother in appreciation at her attempt at quelling his dour mood.

  He began to nibble at the food while Alaise sat close by silently, simply watching him as he ate.

  “I should have stopped him,” Elec finally managed, after consuming his entire plate.

  “No one blames you for it,” Alaise responded. She moved across to be near Elec at his workspace, which was inundated with countless texts and scrolls. “If anyone should be blamed, it should be me.” Elec scrunched his face, wearing a perplexed expression at hearing this strange admission from his mother. “I invited him,” she said as evidence, violet eyes wide and hands outstretched. “Along the lines of your thinking, I should be the one held responsible,” she added after a pause. “Right?”

  “Of course n—“

  “Well, then I think I have made my point,” she interrupted. “You are no more to blame for what happened than I or anyone else who was at the ceremony.”

  Elec nodded as she finished voicing her observation. Suddenly, the door opened wide. Keryth stood there in his bright red robes. The ornate golden stitching all over the arms and chest added to the regality of his stature.

  “The people have mixed feelings as to how much blame they are assigning our son,” he announced bluntly. “Murmurs abound as to what could have—and should have—been done!”

  “Keryth!” Alaise admonished, glaring at her husband.

  “Hold your tongue, woman!” He returned her stare a hundred-fold. “This news reflects on our family in a negative light! The elders and mages are speaking of what happened and are telling the tale as they saw it—that Elec could have stopped the incident but failed to do so.” Keryth turned his scalding gaze upon his son now. “He failed to enact a single spell. He failed to stop that fool Jhaeronas from injuring Anthalion. And it could have been worse!”

   “Why do they blame Elec?” Alaise asked in all seriousness.

  “Because it is obvious to them all that he—and he alone—had the ability to stop Jhaeronas from finishing his spell since he was the one nearest,” Keryth explained. Then he spun on his heel and left the room in a huff.

  “He is right, you know,” Elec admitted after a few moments of silence. “I could have stopped him, if only….”

  Alaise said nothing and instead gave Elec a hug that seemed to last for hours.

   

   

  Morning came once more and the passing of time d
id nothing to quell the guilt that Elec felt. He approached his alchemy that morning with passion unparalleled, diving into his work in order to forget about his problems. The hours passed and he continued mixing and testing elixirs, theorizing about different effects based on his findings.

  Faorath entered his nephew’s workspace and found Elec engrossed in his work. He moved into view, startling Elec and nearly causing him to drop his latest potion, but fortunately he snatched it back in a flash.

  “You have good reflexes,” Faorath proffered, nodding to Elec and watching him as he pushed aside a curly strand of dark hair from in front of his eyes.

  “Thank you, uncle,” Elec answered, still focused on his experiments. When he finally managed to look up, he witnessed his uncle exploring the contents of his bookcase, which was filled with texts on the topics of magic and science.

  “I wrote this one, you know,” Faorath informed him, pulling one tome in particular from the shelf. It was a book explaining the training and handling of exotic magical beasts.

  “Yes, and it is something that I want to discuss with you,” Elec admitted. “I would like to train as a Wind Rider.” Faorath’s amber eyes widened at this revelation.

  “Your father—“

  “Would be more than happy to be rid of me,” Elec finished the sentence for him. “I would no longer be a disappointment to the family and this would perhaps free my mind from the torment of spellcasting.”

  Faorath stood silent for several moments and then nodded his affirmation. “Very well, I will approach your father on the subject.” He smiled a wide grin in appreciation of Elec’s decision as he strode to the exit.

  When Faorath returned over an hour later, he found Elec once more deep in study, but this time he was reading the book his uncle had written. Elec looked up from the thick tome and smiled, nodding a greeting.

  “I have read this book at least seven times,” Elec disclosed. “I have always wondered what it would be like to fly above the trees and into the clouds, to discover what Wothlondia and even all of Krotto has to offer in the ways of nature’s beauty.”

  “It did not take much convincing for your father to agree to this,” Faorath stated bluntly as he stood with his hands on his hips. “He feels that if he presents this news to the elders, it will assuage their doubts and help his standing to remain as it was—‘unblemished’ was the word he used, I believe. No matter, Stormwhisper has been a powerful name in the family of high elven mages over thousands of years, as you are reminded each day.”

  “Aye,” Elec agreed. “I feel that if I had been something of a real Stormwhisper mage, I could have stopped Jhaeronas.”

  “You are a real Stormwhisper, Elec. Do not doubt this. Just because you do not show an aptitude for manipulating the powers of Arcana does not make you any less a family member.”

  “That is not what my father says,” Elec refuted. “My sister and brother and all of the Stormwhispers before them were able to do this. I do not understand why I cannot.” Elec peered into a mirror. “I even look different than all of my family,” he added, twirling a lock of his dark hair in his fingers, then flicking it away in disgust. “I have dark hair and my eyes are unlike those of any of my kin. I have never seen another high elf with features such as mine!”

  “Your masteries lie elsewhere. That is quite obvious,” Faorath offered, waving a hand over the workspace. “You are quite a remarkable alchemist, as well as an expert in the ways of mechanics. As for your features, you are exotic, yes, but it adds to your unique character. It does not detract from anything you do, nor does it define you. You will do well to remember that.”

  Faorath headed to the door, pulled the handle and swung it wide open. “Come to me when you are ready to begin your training.”

  Elec watched the door close behind him and returned to his book. But try as he might, this time he could not digest the words, for his mind was elsewhere.

   

   

  The Wind Riders’ station was several miles away and up the side of a large mountain. The Wind Riders used the caverns as well as the summit of the wide peak to train their apprentices. This venue also provided the magical beasts a place to make their homes. Elec could not wait to see it up close.

  As he made his way through the village, he could not help but overhear some of the elves making mention of the failed wedding and his failures in the events there. Most of it was rumor, but it added another dimension to his humiliation as he heard many accusatory and damning opinions of his actions—or lack thereof. He began to run toward the pathways that would lead him to the top of the mountain and to his uncle. He did not look back or stop once along the entire two mile trail.

  “Glad you could make it,” Faorath greeted him when Elec reached the top of the trail. Faorath sat atop a griffon. Elec stepped back as the creature advanced toward him.

  “Do not be frightened, for they can sense fear and it tends to make them aggressive,” Faorath advised his nephew, tying his golden mane into a pony tail.

  This time Elec calmly and confidently approached the creature and patted its head and beak, admiring also the leonine musculature that made up its hindquarters.

  “This will be your mount with which to train,” Faorath informed him with a wave of his hand. Elec turned to regard one of the Wind Riders leading a giant eagle down from the crest of the mountain top. “If things go well, you will not only become its master, but you will also befriend the creature.”

  Elec was handed the reins of the leather harness that was strapped around the beast’s head and midsection. The giant eagle did not even resist when Elec took them. It simply stood still as if waiting for its passenger to climb aboard, and Elec did so, slowly and carefully.

  “Freedoms abound for you now,” Faorath stated to Elec, turning his griffon toward the edge of the nearest cliff face. He looked back at Elec and then gestured for him to follow. “You read my book, now act on it.”

  Elec grabbed the reins tightly and patted the eagle on the side, then whispered, “Let us take this journey together, friend.” The giant eagle walked after the griffon, ending up directly to the left of Faorath. With a flapping of their mighty wings, both magical creatures took to the air. Elec swallowed hard as he lurched forward. He was in awe as the eagle ascended into the sky, following the griffon. They flew for several miles before turning back to eventually land atop the crest of the mountain once again. It was magnificent, thought Elec. He could not quell the boyish excitement gushing forth as he smiled wide. He stroked the giant eagle on its beak and head. The magical creature seemed to survey him before turning its head forward once more. Elec raised an eyebrow at that.

  They repeated the route several times over and Elec felt a greater command with each flap of the eagle’s wings. They landed after the twelfth such trip. Faorath stopped him for a moment, commanding his griffon to stand next to Elec.

  “You must give the bird a name,” Faorath instructed, caressing the head of his own mount. Elec thought about this for a few moments, then looked to the sky with a smile.

  “Adok.” It was the ancient elven word for grace.

  “Very well, let us take Adok on a longer journey and, before the end of this day, you will feel as if the two of you are but one being.” With that, they were off and flying once more, not returning to the surface of the mountain until the sun sank low in the western sky.

   

   

  The next few years were by and large the same. Elec often conversed with Adok as they flew together, sharing his innermost thoughts with the giant eagle. The flights were cathartic to him as he often spoke aloud of the events of the botched wedding and about his friend Jhaeronas, speculating as to where he might be now. He could neither escape the inner guilt nor the constant stream of rumors and whispers about his magical breakdown. His sister eventually married Anthalion and all was well in that regard. No matter what he did, though, Elec could not seem to shake the culpability and trepidation, or avo
id the surreptitious glances he received from his own people. His home life was no better since his father, who was at the very least ashamed of his youngest child, shunned him pitilessly.

  Elec had told his uncle how he and his father had argued more and more over the last few weeks and he was frustrated beyond measure. Finally, he approached Faorath before another flight into the cloudy afternoon sky.

  “I must take an extended leave, Uncle. I am fighting inner demons but despite my many distractions, I make no headway,” Elec explained. Faorath stared intently at him, listening. “I feel that I need to remove myself from home for a while.”

   “You are not respons—“

  “I understand what you are saying and have said in this regard. However, I am aware of my own shortcomings and I feel a sense of blame at allowing Anthalion to be harmed,” Elec interrupted, staring off into the overcast horizon. “I believe that I have let Aeona down, too.”

  “You know that this is not true and your sister has been supportive of you,” Faorath countered.

  “Whether or not it is true, I need to do this. I only tell you this because I would like very much to bring Adok with me.”

  “So, you would simply disappear in the night and not speak of it even to me?” Faorath demanded accusingly.

  “It is not… like that, uncle,” he stammered. “I mean you no disrespect, nor my family. I simply have to face this fault and come to grips with it.”

  It was now Faorath’s turn to stare silently into the gloomy firmament for several moments. “Very well, Elec. But before you leave, I have a few things for you. Do not leave without them.”

  “All right,” Elec agreed, nodding. His disarming smile failed to revive his uncle’s mood.

   “We shall take one last flight and then you will meet me at my home this very evening. And then you may do as you say.”

  With that, Faorath pushed his griffon forward off the cliff face and into the night sky, almost disappearing after the first fifty feet or so in the gloom. Elec followed and propelled Adok onward into the heavens, catching up quickly to his uncle. Neither of them spoke a word; instead they simply flew on the backs of their mounts for the next few hours. It was peaceful.

   

   

  That very evening, Elec was careful not to wake his siblings or family and softly padded out of his house. He moved quickly and quietly through the avenues of his village to Faorath’s home. He had packed many of his alchemical devices and texts, and had not forgotten the belt his uncle had had made for him, which was currently strapped across his chest and full of cylindrical tubes of various mixtures.

  He rapped lightly on the door. A moment passed and Elec nervously darted about in the shadows as he wanted this trek to be a clandestine one. He was not feeling the bravest of the brave at the moment. It seemed cowardly, this running away in the middle of the night. He heard a lock tumble open, almost seeing through the door at that moment. He understood exactly how the mechanism operated, for he had worked with those basic types of locks thousands of times. When the door finally did pull inward, it was Keryth Stormwhisper and not Faorath who stood before him.

  “Father!?” Elec exclaimed, sounding wounded by the apparent betrayal by his uncle.

  “Do come in,” Keryth announced. In the corner of the room, seated in a comfortable chair, was his uncle whose eyes were wide in an apologetic manner. Keryth witnessed the exchange, huffed and then sighed aloud.

  “He had nothing to do with it,” Keryth said. “I have eyes and ears everywhere, son, and I was not going to allow you to leave unless I spoke with you first.” Elec looked around as if searching for a way out. His eyes glanced all about and after a few moments of silence, he met his father’s gaze.

  “What is it, then?” Elec asked him.

  “You are leaving the assembled villages I understand. Are you to leave Acillia altogether?” enquired Keryth, folding his arms over his chest.

  “I… yes,” Elec stammered.

  “To what end, may I ask?” Keryth continued, rubbing his chin and pulling his cloak tighter around him. It was getting chilly this evening, which it did often in the month of Nature’s Fall.

  “To find myself, father, as well as distance myself from my people and their damning whispers,” he admitted, “with or without your blessings.”

  “I am not here to stop you, merely to question what you plan to make of yourself,” Keryth mused aloud. “I see you taking up with the Wind Riders—an admirable profession,” he stated, glancing and nodding at Faorath, for he truly respected his brother-in-law for that feat. “And then I see you still invest your time in those foolish alchemical pursuits… among other things.” He paced back and forth in front of the elf, chafing his hands together. Elec was not quite sure if this was because of the cold or from pure frustration at the events occurring.

  “You read these texts, yet you cast them aside and simply abandon your namesake and its calling?!” cried his father. “Are you some kind of barbarian? A Kinestath Tempus, perhaps?!” He referred specifically to the name for warriors in the ancient tongue of the high elves, his anger growing with each word he spoke. “You disgrace your family name. I do not oppose your self-inflicted exile or whatever it is you call it. I would go so far as to say it is an agreed-upon decision,” Keryth finished in a cogent tone of voice, measured rage and frustration evident in his yellowish eyes.

  With that, he turned his back on Elec and Faorath and spoke an incantation, once more speaking in ancient elven tongues. Then he disappeared from sight, leaving nothing behind but the two elves with their own thoughts.

  After a few moments passed, Faorath stood and retrieved a rucksack from the table, holding it out before him. “I am sorry,” he began to say, looking into the strange black and white eyes of his nephew. “But he ambushed me, much the same way he did you.” Elec merely nodded to his uncle, his mind still doubtful and lost in apprehension until he felt the hand of his uncle upon his shoulder. “Are you still leaving, boy? You seemed to be doing well with regards to your training and have a natural aptitude for flying the giant eagle. If you stay, it will not be long before you could graduate to the griffon training.”

  “Yes, I am leaving. I must do this, now more than ever.” Elec’s tone was suddenly confident. “I have made the correct choice.” Then, “What is this?” he asked, seeing that his uncle had something in his outstretched hands, an offering of some kind.

  “Supplies,” Faorath stated simply. “Enough food for you to tend your hunger for well over three months. There are cured meats, breads, seeds and edible flowers from my own garden.” He watched as Elec carefully inspected the contents of the pack. “I strapped more of the supplies to Adok’s saddle—enough for the both of you—and he is prepared and waiting for you atop the precipice.”

  Elec nodded and turned away. “There is more,” Faorath continued, causing Elec to spin to face him again. “I have packed several small sacks of Moontear berries. I have kept them fresh from the spring harvest. I thought they might be something to remind you of home.” He was referring to the berries that grew only a few weeks each year on Acillia and bloomed in that short time under the starry nights. The high elves celebrated the event with an annual festival on the first day of the bloom. His uncle knew it was one of Elec’s favorite times of the year. And the berries were a delicacy, sought after everywhere across Wothlondia.

  “I… appreciate your gifts, uncle,” Elec said thankfully, pulling his cloak tight about him and then strapping the rucksack to his back and taking the sack of berries from him.

  Again he made to leave but heard another call from behind. “Elec… wait,” his uncle declared. “There are additional gifts.”

  “More?” Elec asked, turning to stare suddenly upon the most magnificent blade he had ever seen. His uncle also gazed closely upon the glinting steel too as he held it out before him so that Elec could study it. Runes adorned the blade and its handle was of the finest steel, gilded with copper and
slightly longer than usual, indicating that it could be used just as easily with either one or two hands.

  “Where did you get this, uncle?” asked Elec with eyes wide in awe.

  “This is an ancient sword given to me by my father, and his father before him, and so on for several generations,” Faorath stated. “The blade was forged with fires and magic combined. Its name is Daegnar Giruth. It means ‘blade that drains,’ loosely translated.”

  “It is truly magnificent, but what of it?” Elec questioned, not realizing what his uncle intended.

  “I am gifting it to you, Elec,” Faorath said, sheathing the sword and then presenting it to Elec.

  “I cannot accept such a gift,” Elec stated, attempting to refuse the weapon.

  “Nonsense,” Faorath began. “It is mine to give and you are in need of a blade, so I give you this one.”

  “But—“

  “‘But’ nothing, Elec,” his uncle replied tersely. “Do not make me force it upon you!” he added, holding the blade out defiantly to his nephew. Elec nodded in response, not taking his eyes off the magnificent weapon.

  After a long silence, Faorath continued. “The sword steals some of the strength and vigor from the target of its strikes with each slash of its fine edge. Your opponents will begin to slow their attacks, hit with less force, until, if they are not already dead from blood loss, they will succumb to the effects of the blade.”

  Elec took Daegnar Giruth and belted it respectfully around his waist. He playfully removed the blade from the sheath, replacing it and drawing it a few times over for good measure and gauging the fine weight and balance of the steel.

  “These are for you, too,” Faorath announced. He presented his nephew with a wonderful pair of leather boots. The black of the leather seemed to shimmer in the glow of the lantern which lit the room brightly. Elec could not tell if it was a trick of the light or if the boots themselves gleamed. He took them, but they appeared too big for his feet.

  “I don’t think they will fit,” Elec observed, frowning and holding one of the pair up to his own foot as he stood balanced on one leg, never teetering an inch. His stance was unwavering and his uncle smirked at the admirable deed.

  “Try them on,” his uncle insisted, running a hand through his golden locks.

  Elec removed his own disheveled footwear before placing the large boots on first his left foot, and then his right foot. Within seconds, the boots shrunk to his size and felt like they not only fit perfectly, but also caressed his feet. He gasped in awe at the amazing transformation. “I have never felt such comfort.”

  “See the inscription there… on the heel, nephew.” Faorath pointed to the sole of the heel of the left boot. Elec saw it and nodded—the words were in ancient elven and he recognized them. “When you speak that phrase there, wherever you can see within your line of sight is where you will appear.”

  Elec’s face crinkled in bewilderment. “Teleportation?” he asked simply.

  “Aye,” his uncle affirmed. “Even if you cannot cast spells, these few items will allow you to bend Arcana’s whims to your own, but only a few times a day. Three if I recall correctly.” He rubbed his chin in contemplation over that guess. ”You may want to test that number yourself in the very near future,” he added with a wry smile. “You never know when you may want to be somewhere else.”

  “Thank you, uncle,” Elec cried, marveling at the gifts. “I will add them to the others,” he said, again pulling his black cloak tightly around him. This was yet another of Faorath’s many presents, received on his twentieth name-day. The cape hardened magically on impact, deflecting any attacks harmlessly away. Elec well remembered the first demonstration of its magic and he nodded in satisfaction at that.

  Elec then reached into his belt pouch and removed a small piece of glass that, when held over the eye, magnified the landscape, making objects appear closer and in greater detail. He held it up to show his uncle that he still had this present.

  “And take this, too,” Faorath added, handing him a thick cloak of the best leather and wool. It was much heavier than the fine one Elec currently wore.

  “And this? What does this do?” he asked his uncle, smiling in wonderment at what magic this newest item might have hidden within.

  “It keeps you warm,” his uncle said, raising an eyebrow. The two of them shared a laugh at that lighthearted joke and embraced a long time before Elec wriggled free.

  “I thank you much for these and you have my eternal gratitude,” Elec said, heading for the door. His uncle breathed a heavy sigh, and heard the door open and close.

  And just like that, Elec was gone.

   

   

  The giant eagle ascended magnificently into the sky with the proud high elf atop its back. Elec’s hair streamed and whipped behind him in the very cool breeze of the night air. The cold was piercing right through his leather and animal skin ensemble. He guessed that he might soon have to begin to wear his woolens beneath his armor and his furs in the coming days.

  This was the farthest he’d ever been from his home, he realized. He was many score miles to the west. There were three islands here that he felt might be good places for him to further pursue his journey into alchemy. There were new plants there for him to use and test, including ones he’d read about in several books.

  He patted the giant eagle on its head as it flew higher into the night sky. After several hours Elec knew now that he had reached the isle furthest from Acillia and he decided to explore this particular land mass. Rumor had it that the vegetation flourishing here included the rare whitetails used in the healing balms and elixirs that he wanted to test for himself.

  The darkness was beginning to fade, giving way to the morning light. The sun had not yet risen, but would be upon him soon. Elec decided to descend now, between two large croppings of trees. Down he went, seeing some of the animals in the forest scampering and running as he approached. There was a sparse section of land, backed up to a hill not far off, that might provide him some defensible ground in which to make his camp.

  The giant eagle landed and came to a stop right at the base of the prominence and Elec dismounted. He began to set up a small camp, unpacking his portable tent beneath whose canvas and animal skin walls he could find shelter from rain and sun alike. He removed some of the dried food and breads from Adok’s saddle bags and tore into them, tossing a few bits over to the eagle, too. He liked the dried meat, but Elec knew he would need to allow his mount to hunt on its own. He waved the bird away, secure in the knowledge that it would return after it had finished eating.

  After he had completed his meal and the tent was in place, Elec set off in the morning sun looking for any and all unique plant life. He did not stop until the sun was sinking low into the clouds. He scarcely realized he had not eaten until he looked up into the sky. He had spent the better part of the day scavenging and scrounging and had discovered many flowers and herbs. Excitedly, he hurried back to his camp, several hundred paces to the west, where he found Adok waiting for him, morsels of some kind of carcass still on his beak.

  Elec lit a campfire, using several of the dried twigs he’d managed to scavenge along the way, and chewed at another bit of dried bread. “We will need to do something about this,” he mentioned to Adok, holding up a piece of the stale bread and laughing to himself.

  After his meal, he set up lanterns in his portable lab and went to work, shredding and distilling many of the plants. Elec repeated this procedure many times over several weeks, testing the elixirs on himself with varying outcomes—but most of them with the desired results. He tried out the healing balm and elixir, and also one particular potion that increased his reflexes and speed. He employed this while he familiarized himself with the weight of Daegnar Giruth, practicing his strokes over and over into the open air and upon several of the bushes and foliage nearby. Once satisfied with the consequences of an experiment, Elec would quickly cultivate many vials of a particular potion
, placing the finished product into a flask in his bandolier and quickly moving on to the next one.

  His hunger increased along with the effects of the swiftness elixir and he felt that there might be a relationship there which he documented. For several more weeks, Adok would return with fish from the surrounding reaches of the Eastern Sea, after satisfying his own hunger first. Elec rewarded the giant eagle with more of the cured meats, which the feathered creature seemed to find to his liking and of which, fortunately, Elec had plenty, thanks to his uncle.

   

   

   “I thought I might find you out here,” called a voice from behind him one day. Unsheathing Daegnar Giruth, Elec spun round to face the owner of that voice. He saw a familiar high elf approaching.

  “Wha-?” Elec stammered, lowering his weapon as the elf approached. “Shardrin the Scoundrel! What are you doing here?” he finally managed, using the title given to his new companion by several other high elves. It was a nickname that Shardin did not care for.

  “I might ask you the same thing,” Shardrin answered, ignoring the comment and stepping close to Elec, smiling in the process. “I am hunting game and looking for the skins and scales of the Tyrantian beasts as well as other… materials… acquired from creatures that I cannot find on Acillia. I need these resources in order to construct my finer items, such as that very belt you wear,” the high elf stated, rubbing the leather of Elec’s bandolier between his forefingers. Then he pulled his black mane into a pony tail.

  “Aye,” Elec nodded. “If there is anything I can do to help you, please tell me. For now, share some of my bounty.” Elec slapped Shardrin on the back.

  The two of them sat and ate, Shardrin recounting tales of his adventures and indicating that he was nowhere near finished with his career.

  “I am only just beginning to build the tales for the bards to sing in taverns,” Shardrin laughed. He removed his belt that held two scabbards of the most intricate and boiled leathers, much like the armor that he wore. “There is always room for one as skilled as I that can scout and disarm the deadliest of traps. Have you been practicing?”

  “Aye,” Elec nodded, producing the gears which he had been taking apart and putting back together with the greatest of ease.

  “It seems it might be time to show you something a bit harder,” Shardrin observed, clearly impressed with Elec’s attention to detail and expert placement.

  “What are those?” Elec asked, not really listening to the last comment but instead focusing on the twin scabbards.

  “These,” Shardrin explained, picking them up and setting them on his lap, “are my prized swords.”

  “May I look at them?” Elec enquired, throwing more wood onto the fire. It was getting dark and there was a distinct nip in the air.

  Shardrin nodded, handing Elec the first of the two. The short sword that he removed from the scabbard was even more intricately constructed than the casing. Elec did not know who had made them, but recognized expert craftsmanship when he saw it. He also noted a faint blue glimmer along the edge of the blade and felt a chill there that was more than the cold of the steel. The glow indicated that some kind of magic had been mixed with the blade when it was crafted.

  “So. Do you want to attempt to work on a more difficult mechanism?” Shardrin asked him, holding up a new device of some kind. It was truly more intricate, with more gears, pins, springs and moving parts than Elec had ever seen before.

  Elec took it, once he had replaced the short sword back into its housing, and stared at the object in fascination. As he fiddled with something, Shardrin took the sword and refitted the belt around his waist.

  “Ah!” Elec yelled out in sudden pain, shaking his hand to stem the ache. Shardrin returned his gaze to him.

  “Quiet,” he advised Elec. “We do not know what is out here in the wilderness. Now, as I was trying to tell you, this particular device has an electrical discharge upon it. It is not fatal, but will certainly hurt you if you are not careful,” he added, standing up suddenly. “It makes you focus, does it not?”

  He unsheathed his swords. The second blade appeared to have a dim red glow… or was it just the reflection of the fire? Elec could not tell.

  “What are you doing?” Elec asked in confusion, looking around for some hint of danger. He could see nothing in the gloom of twilight, except the glowing sword. Adok was nowhere to be seen since he had taken flight some hours ago.

  Shardrin moved away from the fire and toward a path that led up the hill above them. Then Elec saw them. A half dozen or more smallish shapes were bounding down the hill, the size of dogs, and with pointy snouts and long, slender tails that made them seem like… dire rats?!

  Elec kicked a few of the fresh logs back out of the fire, thinking that they would not want to leave it unattended. The flames immediately dimmed.

  Shardrin was moving up the hill toward the attackers. As the creatures approached him, Elec stood and removed Daegnar Giruth. From then on, things seemed to move in slow motion around him as he followed the trail of the rogue elf. As he ascended the path, he watched as Shardrin engaged them.

  His first pass of the blade, a south to north upward chop, seemed to freeze the center section of the first rat as it was cloven in two, the lower portion falling straight down to the soil and the top portion flying off. It hit the ground some fifty feet away and shattered into a hundred shards upon the rocky ground below them, the parts scattering and vanishing in the weeds and foliage.

  Shardrin’s second swing caught another of the creatures with an outward hack that carved through the flesh and bone of the beast like a warm dagger through fresh butter. Elec looked at the remains of that one as he neared the combat, its insides completely and utterly liquefied and held together by its own melted vestiges.

  “By the gods,” Elec murmured.

  “Mind helping me? You can swear later,” Shardrin remarked nonchalantly, ducking as a dire rat launched itself over him, heading toward Elec now. His hearing was better than even Elec’s it would seem. That was an impressive thing, Elec thought as he strode forward, his enchanted blade held out before him, gripped tightly in both hands.

  Elec swung the weapon—over swung it, in fact—and threw himself off-balance. The blade was much lighter than he expected. Or was it the adrenaline rushing through his veins that made him do it. The clumsy swing nearly took him off the side of the hill and down onto the rocky surface below.

  The rat did not miss its target, however. Its beady eyes flashed in the dim light of the campfire below and its teeth locked onto Elec’s forearm, biting right through his flimsy armor. He yelped in pain and threw the thing off of him, losing a small portion of flesh as he did. He looked down to see blood seeping out from under his leather clothing. He reached for his bandolier, seizing and uncorking a potion which he quickly consumed. Then he drank another, tossing the vial aside as the rat launched itself at him again.

  In that split second, the elixirs took effect. The pain of his wound, which had already begun to burn from within from an obvious contagion, receded and the gash was slowly closed. Elec’s speed and reactionary time increased too, so the rat seemed to slow down comparably to his own actions. He smacked the thing with the flat of his blade, accidentally missing with the edge, and knocked it to the ground. He brought a clumsy overhead swipe down onto the creature, removing only its tail in the process.

  Elec heard the laughter of Shardrin in the background and swung round to face him. He saw the Scoundrel cross his two blades in front of him, essentially blocking a diving rat and catching it in mid-air. His next action was to uncross those blades, taking the head of the huge rat off, and sending it soaring away while the body dropped to the ground with a sickening thud.

  Elec whirled back in time to see his own enemy fly through the air toward him. He instinctively held out his blade firmly with two hands, and the rat impaled itself upon his sword edge. Elec glimpsed a low flying shadow and reflexively ducked,
thinking it to be another enemy, but it was the form of a giant eagle. Adok, Elec realized, as the bird descended and grabbed two more of the dire rats that raced toward the high elves and flew off with them.

  “Where are they coming from?” Elec managed to call out to Shardrin, who drove a short sword through the belly of the last one and then stood on its carcass with his right foot, removing his blood soaked weapon and wiping it clean with a rag of dirty leather.

  “There.” Shardrin pointed to a spot several hundred feet above them. It was hard to see, especially in the darkness, but Elec’s darkvision allowed him to make out a depression in the side of the hill—a cave entrance of some kind.

  “Shall we?” asked Shardrin, not waiting for a response but heading in that direction. “They were certainly aggressive creatures,” he called back to Elec, smiling that same sly smile that he had before.

  This elf has certainly been around, Elec thought, pursuing him as best he could.

  Several minutes passed before Elec finally reached the path into the cave and saw Shardrin holding up a hand, forefinger extended indicating for him to remain silent and to stop moving. He did so and crouched, waiting for Shardrin to advise him further. A moment more passed, then Shardrin padded softly back to Elec and squatted to face him.

  “The rats are all but gone, but I have to say that there is something deeper within this cave,” Shardrin explained, sheathing his second sword. Elec simply nodded and followed after him quietly. He paused at the cave entrance and looked skyward, searching for Adok, but did not see him.

  “There are tracks here, and large ones at that,” Shardrin added, looking around. “Do you see the size of these tunnels, elf?”

  Elec noticed that the passage was huge, seemingly able to hold a full grown dragon. He stopped breathing involuntarily at that thought, and then sucked in a breath slowly to stop the panic from ensuing. Shardrin appeared to be enjoying himself, Elec noted, and he shook his head slightly in disbelief.

  “I am picking up the scent and sound of running water nearby, rich with minerals” Elec said softly.

  “Good,” Shardrin nodded. “There may be hope for you yet, Elec.” He removed the reddish hued sword halfway from its sheath to shed a minor glow upon the rocky walls. It bathed the surrounding few feet in a dim radiance. He then stooped low to the ground and ran his hand along the surface of something that Elec could not quite see.

  “Something larger than we has traversed these tunnels and perhaps calls this place its home,” Shardrin stated, smiling sarcastically once more at that bit of news. “See the prints here, hardened and softened by dampness over time?”

  “Aye,” Elec whispered back, considering some kind of faded impression of a footprint on the now-toughened ground.

  The air around them was silent. They continued down and then the passage leveled off for another fifty feet or so. Then their keen elven ears picked up the unmistakable sound of snoring. They looked at one another and then back toward the source area of the sound, withdrawing their weapons quietly, and advancing softly once more. The snoring grew louder until they saw ahead of them a spacious cavern with an opening above through which the air poured in freely and the smoke from a recently ignited fire billowed upward and out. Through the crackling of the fire and the smell of the burning wood, there was a purely putrid smell within the chamber. Shardrin clearly noticed it too as he winced, reflecting what Elec’s expression probably looked like.

  As they crept forward again, they finally caught a glimpse the source of the snoring—a giant.

  Elec gasped involuntarily and his eyes widened in shock and awe. He had heard of these supernatural creatures, but had never seen one, especially up close.

  The thing was massive, easily reaching more than twenty feet in height, and surely weighing in excess of one thousand pounds. There were animal furs covering most of its lower half, while its chest and upper torso were bare skin, bristling with coarse hair and corded muscles.

  As they neared the sleeping giant, Elec noticed that it had the widest jaw he’d ever witnessed on a living creature. He had seen ogres before, raiding his village once after they had somehow crossed the waters of Sunrise Bay to attack them, but they were reminiscent of children when compared to this giant. It was balding with only a tuft of auburn hair upon the top of its head and a scruffy clump on either side of its jaw, framing its face. It was somewhat bloated, as the ogres had been, but had muscles everywhere along its arms and chest. Scraps of animal parts, bones and uneaten flesh lay all around the sleeping behemoth, and also piles of animal hides piled so high that Elec was uncertain as to whether the skins were mere pelts or whole creatures.

  Shardrin circled the giant, short swords in his hands, as it lay sleeping, its back up against a crop of rock that projected up from the floor and was covered in skins. Elec approached also, sipping an elixir, then removing his sword from its scabbard. As he neared, he heard a crunch underfoot that echoed throughout the chamber.

  The creature first opened one black eye—the shade of the darkest of nights—and then the other, affixing its gaze upon the approaching elf, curiously at first. Then its brow furrowed and it snarled at Elec. Its mouth opened and it displayed a misshapen row of yellowed teeth, with some missing, but those that remained were sharpened at the tips. As it stood, reaching its full height of twenty-five feet, it remained hunched-forward, its substantial arms stretching almost all the way to the ground, reminding Elec of a carriage resembling that of a gorilla. The giant barely fit within the vast expanse of the spacious cavern now that it was upright.

  Elec froze, paralyzed by fear at the sheer enormity of the giant. It was truly massive and reached for a club, which was in reality the trunk of a tree, the base of which was worn smooth, no doubt from incalculable usage.

  It swung the tree across its body, meaning to turn Elec’s bones to powder, but the elf regained his sensibility. He rolled nimbly backward and under the swing as the club slammed into the wall of the cavern, creating a thundering cacophony that echoed throughout the chamber, seeming to shake the very walls themselves.

  Elec looked up from the ground and glimpsed flashing blades as Shardrin leaped from a ledge above the giant, landing squarely on its back. He disappeared behind the girth of the mighty behemoth but must have landed a solid strike as the giant howled in pain and dropped its weapon. The giant turned slightly in a vain attempt at wresting the elf from its back, allowing Elec to see that Shardrin was out of the reach of its grasping hands.

  “Strike!” Shardrin called out to Elec, who held his enchanted blade firmly in both hands. He downed another potion quickly before running straight at the giant, slashing wildly many times and scoring several hits. He remembered that his uncle had told him of the magic within the blade and trusted that this was exactly the time and place to make use of it.

  The giant’s back was stained with bright red blood dripping from underneath the hides over it. Suddenly, it stumbled backward toward the wall of the cavern. Steam punctuated the air now too, as the frost and fire from Shardrin’s enchanted blades fought for supremacy.

  Elec followed the creature’s movements. He realized that although the giant was not intelligent, it certainly was cunning. It intended to slam its own back against the wall in an attempt to crush the rogue elf.

  “Shardrin!” Elec called in warning, slicing another superficial blow at the giant’s moving legs.

  “I know!” Shardrin called back, trying to remove one of his short swords from the giants back that seemed to be stuck. That blade was aglow with a dull red light too, Elec noted.

  Elec pressed the attack, hacking and slashing at the giant’s legs until they stopped moving altogether. Elec heard a mighty thud as the behemoth crashed its own body into the wall with thundering force, just to the right of the campfire. Shardrin fell from the creature harrowingly upon the hard ground, knocking the wind from him. Elec could tell he was in pain from his facial contortions which he could see in the flickerin
g light of the fire. The giant, still standing under the elves’ assault, turned his attention toward Elec, who held up yet another elixir.

  “Never a better time to give this one a try,” he muttered to himself and downed the contents as the giant advanced a step. His vision blurred for a moment and then suddenly, he was moving and at great speed. Everything else appeared to slow down and he was moving faster… much faster. It was working.

  He slashed and cut at the giant’s legs again as they presented themselves. He ran between them, dashing back and forth around the creature. It could not catch him. The combination of his elixir and the magic of Daegnar Giruth in slowing his opponent’s blows was devastating. Elec realized that he did not need to be a master-at-arms to deal with this enemy. Again and again, his sword found giant flesh. The beast staggered, bleeding from dozens of wounds now, and crying out in some kind of guttural language that must have been the native giant tongue. His tone, however, was unmistakably angry.

  Shardrin managed to rise to his feet unsteadily and surveyed the scene before him in wonder. He saw that one of his blades was still deep within the giant’s back and he shook his head, moving to aid Elec. But the elf needed no help, for the giant stopped and leaned forward, its black eyes rolled into the back of its head and it fell to the hard ground. The sound of that impact echoed throughout the cavern.

  A moment later, Shardrin was back atop the creature, attempting to unearth his blade from what could only be the giant’s ribcage. It became apparent that the bone and skin around the blade had melted and was bunched up around the sword in a heap. Eventually, after a few forceful tugs, the blade was coaxed free. Shardrin cleaned it off and replaced it in his scabbard.

  “Now, let’s have a look see at what our giant had in the way of treasures!” Shardrin declared with a grin from ear to ear. Elec’s vision was beginning to return to normal and he nodded, though he was suddenly very thirsty.

  Shardrin spent a few moments looking through the piles of discarded belongings and under the animal skins that the giant was obviously using as a bed. Elec removed a water skin and downed the contents. Shardrin came over to him.

  “Your eyes,” Shardrin remarked, noticing that they appeared odd. “They are almost all white. There is no sign of the black.” He thought this quite strange indeed. “You may want this, though,” Shardrin added, holding up a dagger—a magical dagger with runes and a pommel made of expert craftsmanship, the likes of which Elec had never seen before. “I can teach you to fight with both weapons held if you’d like.”

  Elec reached out and took the offered dagger, turning it over in his hand and feeling the master-crafted balance. He perceived that the blade was perfect in all ways… and sharp too, from the looks of it.

  “Aye,” Elec said in response to the offer. “I’d like that.” The two elves rummaged through the debris and ruins there and found gems, some copper, silver and gold coins scattered about, and also a small statue of a wolf. It seemed to be carved from ivory, Shardrin reckoned. “This might fetch a coin or two,” he smiled, cleaning the statue thoroughly with a sash of leather and then placing it neatly in his belt pouch.

  “I’d better check on Adok,” Elec mentioned, looking round one last time. His eyes appraised the hard stone walls and floor, the all-but extinguished fire that had been blazing for hours, and the carcass of the giant that would no doubt attract denizens from deep below in the tunnels of the subterrane. Stray animals from above would also wander into the cavern, such as the dire rats they’d seen earlier, to feast on what was left after that. He sighed and wondered what it all meant.

  Then he shook his head and followed Shardrin out of the passage into the chill air of night. Adok was outside the cave entrance, as if waiting for his return. When they got back to their camp, Elec could see that Adok had laid out several of the dire rats on the floor.

  “At least we won’t starve,” Elec laughed heartily. Shardrin joined in after seeing the carcasses.

  The two of them sat around the campfire and Elec uncovered the runes on the dagger—more ancient elven text that read: Wyrm’s Fang. The elves discussed the fine blade, the ancient ways of their ancestors and the powerful magic that must have been awakened centuries ago. The night faded relatively quietly as the two high elves slept peacefully and in shifts.

   

   

  The next nine months passed with Elec learning the two-handed fighting technique of Shardrin the Scoundrel. He studied the different uses for both dagger and sword, how to employ them together and when to perform dissimilar actions with them.  Wyrm’s Fang turned out to be the sharpest blade they’d ever seen. They had tested it on many different structures and densities, and found that it could cut into stone without even the slightest marring of the blade.

  Over and over, every day, the two of them practiced the maneuvers until Elec felt that he had a somewhat firm grasp on the concepts of swordsmanship.

  “Now it is up to you to practice them,” Shardrin said. “I must take my leave as I have many beasts still to track and hunt for their pelts.” Elec simply nodded, for he had much more to do as well.

  Shardrin left that day after the two of them shared a final meal and some wine that Shardrin had been saving. Then Elec and Adok were once more alone in the wilderness.

   

   

  As the seasons passed from summer to winter, Elec continued furthering the studies of both botany and alchemy and exploring the three islands that surrounded Acillia. Adok came and went, sometimes disappearing for days, but always returning to find Elec, who took to the air with him regularly for several hours at a time, exploring the countryside and surrounding waters of Sunrise Bay.

  The high elf spent the following decade in solitude, coming to grips with everything that had transpired between him and his family. He studied and practiced his fighting techniques and even had a few run-ins with wild bears, cats and even one time with a Tyrantian crawler—the size of three bears. Adok had of course assisted him with those sharp talons of his when the Tyrantian creature crested the hill in search of food, Elec recalled.

  His notes on his alchemical findings were copious and comprehensive, detailing effects both wanted and unwanted, and the steps that were to be taken to lose those unwanted outcomes. Elec was beginning to truly find himself and discover what his purpose was within his alchemical practices.

  He was deep into a process on this day and chewing on a piece of stale bread. It was chilly and the ground was becoming more unyielding with each passing day, yet some of the vegetation continued to persist through the cold near the shore. It was then that he heard the sound of footsteps approaching. Slowly, he slid Wyrm’s Fang from its sheath, ready to whirl about to face the unknown assailant, preparing the magic teleportation of his boots just in case.

  “You look well, nephew,” called a familiar voice. Elec spun to see that before him stood his Uncle Faorath. “Well, except for that unsightly fur you have on your face!”

  “Uncle?” he cried, his eyes, growing wide and a smile forming on his face. He had thought about his magnificent and generous uncle many times over the last ten years and often wished to return to Acillia to visit him, but could not garner the courage. His uncle embraced him in a lengthy hug.

  Elec had not even realized that his facial hair had grown thick this last year. He had taken to ignoring it, and many more of his hygienic duties.

  “What brings you here?” Elec asked him bluntly. He saw past his uncle to the griffon that he called his own and wondered where Adok had gotten off to this time.

  “My mission is twofold,” Faorath explained. “Do you know what year it is, nephew?” Elec scratched his ear. He had stopped taking accurate measurements of the passing of days some four years ago or so. He shook his head to indicate that he did not know.

  “It is 65 P.A. now and things are amiss,” Faorath began to explain. “First let me present you with news and a task that our people are asking of you. It would appear
that several tribes of orcs and goblins have taken up arms around Wothlondia, my boy.” He sat on the ground and bade Elec to do the same. “Apparently the goblinoids no longer want to trade with the surface folk. The people of Stonehill are claiming to have seen some aggressive behavior. Nothing is known for sure, but we have theories, derived magically and through reconnaissance of our own,” Faorath said, keeping his eyes on Elec’s.

  “We need someone—hopefully you—to take notice to Safehold and then Oakhaven,” Faorath continued, standing now and wiping the cold from the seat of his pants beneath his robes.

  “Why me?” Elec enquired.

  “Because we feel it will do you some good to have contact with the outside folks—the humans and forest elves, among others. You had previously expressed a desire to cohabitate and meet these other races,” he reminded his nephew, staring up into the clouds and blue sky. “It is important, Elec, all this information we have divulged and the theories we have put together. It is time for man to hear it before it is too late.”

  Elec nodded. “I understand,” he said.

  “I would consider it a personal favor to myself as well,” Faorath went on. He pulled out a small leather bag. “On an unrelated note, I have something for you.” He reached into the bag to produce a ring. It shone faintly, even in the gloomy air beneath the recent cloud cover.

  “What… is it?” Elec demanded, truly amazed to simply behold the magnificent item.

  “Speak the word on the side there,” Faorath said, pointing to the script, “and I will show you.”

  Elec did as he was instructed. Suddenly, the air around them began to shimmer and fade back and forth, in and out, until a clear and present shift in the planes occurred.

  “Wha—?” Elec exclaimed, startled at the event unfolding before him. Faorath bade him to follow and he stepped through the inter-planar gateway. Once hesitantly inside, Elec saw what could only be described as a full-fledged laboratory. There were tables littered with burners and flasks, as well as other alchemical equipment,

  “I have had this made for you over the last few years,” Faorath stated, as if it were no major accomplishment. “I figured that it might come in handy since you liked to travel.” He held his arms out and pointed to the walls around the room, which had many of Elec’s books from Acillia already lining the bookcases, and countless empty flasks and shelves set up to store his mixtures and other supplies. Elec was speechless.

  “I... I do not know what to say.” Elec once more hugged his uncle tightly. “I cannot thank you enough for this gift!”

  “I know you will make use out of it,” Faorath added with a smile. “You can come and go as you please. There is a small part of the astral plane tied to this ring that is yours now and always.” He turned to see Elec thumbing through some of his older books he’d collected but had not brought with him on his long trip. Until now, he was not sure if he would ever gaze upon their pages again.

  “I will return in a week to hear your decision,” Faorath said as they exited the extra-planar lab. Elec spoke the word once more and the magic came to pass, in reverse order this time, until there was no trace of the shimmering doorway. Only the chill air remained.

  “No need,” Elec declared, placing the ring in his own belt sack and seeing Adok returning once more. Faorath’s griffon neared them as well. Neither of the magical beasts moved to attack one another, they simply remained quiet and still. “I will do as you have asked, uncle.” Elec began to pack up his supplies. “I shall leave in the morning for Safehold.”

  “Very well, Elec,” Faorath nodded as he mounted his griffon, grabbing the reins and turning to face him again. “I believe in you and that you have a bright future, no matter what that may be. Your path is an honorable one. That is all that we can take to our graves—our honor.”

  Elec smiled agreement, waving to his uncle as he took flight, then watched him fade into the sunlight until he could no longer see him.

  ”Looks like we’ve got some work to do,” he observed to the giant eagle, tossing a piece of bread into his mouth. It was then he noticed another bag on the floor near Adok. He peered inside and found another fresh helping of Moontear berries from this year’s harvest. He smiled once more, a long and hearty grin that made him feel truly happy for the first time in years. He went about setting up his lab the rest of the day, beaming the whole time as he popped one of the white berries into his mouth and chewed, savoring the flavor.