The spectral form closed the holes and slammed his fist into the barrier, which was little more than a thin plane of energy. “I may have been banished, but I will rise again, and no one will stand in the way of my domination of the Planes, not even the Planeswalkers of Elderon!” The dark form of Hydrais raised his mighty arms and let out a thunderous roar.
From a vantage point unknown and unseen, the pale figure of Servant watched Hydrais struggle against his Netherworld prison. With the Elderon's help, he caught the path to the Vaaluna Plane to pay another visit to the wizard and his elves. They needed to know more about what awaited them in Dunandor. The alignment was coming—the Planar boundaries wouldn't hold Hydrais for much longer.
They underestimated my resolve, she thought while she sifted through the smoldering rubble. Nimoni was one of several survivors who made it through Haarath's destruction. Death was all around her: friends, family, colleagues, past lovers, and enemies. She had watched Timerath fall to his death three nights ago after Haarath set his magical fire to the Wall; it was one of a hundred such memories.
"Here is another, Milady."
Nimoni grasped the small metal object with tears streaming down her cheeks. The mothers and children had no chance to escape. Anger burned in her heart; she squeezed the elf-child's toy in her hand as if she were trying to extract the last good memory from it.
"Pull yourself together, Nimoni,” she said aloud. She stood up amidst the rubble, and scanned the area until she found Arath, the troublesome but wise Elf-Lord elected Steward until Tristandor or Aerinas’ return.
After her dutiful bow as sign of respect, she began. “M'Lord, I request permission to seek out my husband and son so they may learn what fate has befallen their home."
Arath looked up at her. There was soot, sweat, and traces of blood on his face, but sorrow in his eyes. “Our city is destroyed, along with our way of life, Nimoni. You need no permission from me to do what you will."
"M'Lord, I —"
"And stop calling me that,” he snapped. “Your husband and son are the rightful heirs to Lythardia's throne, and they will return to us. Do not assume them dead yet."
Nimoni bit her lip and nodded, holding back more tears. “You say ‘yet’ as if their death is inevitable, if not already upon them. Our city can be rebuilt, our library can contain the works of a thousand dead elves before us once again, but nothing is possible without our people. Any help we can send to my family, if they are indeed still alive, is better than sitting here counting the elf-child toys. Enough mothers and children lie dead amongst the ashes. Let us go and avenge them with the strength we have left."
Arath grasped Nimoni's hand and smiled. “You have the heart of a mother, Nimoni. As I said, I am not going to keep you here or otherwise be a barrier between you and your family. I cannot go with you, which you must understand, but I will send aid with you. How do you plan on finding your family?"
Nimoni opened her other palm, revealing the silver and ivory whistle.
"Your whistle. You used it the moment you came out of your coma."
"It is the link to my son, Arath. One blow on this whistle opens a window in time, and calls upon its partner, which is held by Ithyllna. I did not want to risk the item being lost if Aerinas was captured or killed, and Ithyllna is one of our best."
"She was a member of the Vrunyn Guard,” stated Arath.
"Is, Arath, not was. I reinstated her when I commissioned her to go with Tristandor and Aeligon on their journey, and gave her the other part of my whistle on the Grand Terrace."
Arath looked up above them. A gaping hole in the treetop canopy was the clue to where the Grand Terrace once existed. He frowned. “What a shame it is not so grand any longer."
"We will defeat this evil, Arath, and we will rebuild. All of the races know what it is to rebuild their homes after evil lays waste. After Hydrais fell, Lunathar was rebuilt by wizards and elves, Mynandrias was rebuilt by dwarves, elves, and wizards, and Gudred castle was rebuilt by giants and men. The list is endless. Vaaluna knows how to survive."
"Your bravery would make Tristandor proud, Milady,” Arath said nobly. “I do not deserve the title of Steward...you do."
"To be awarded stewardship would be to don a politician's robe, and I cannot think of a worse thing these days.” She winked at Arath, whose face was beginning to flush. “My place is with my husband and son, and I will accept nothing less."
"What will you do when you find them?"
"I will forge the alliances we so desperately need. While men sit and argue amongst themselves about the best course of action, this woman will show them the meaning of action over chatter."
"You play a dangerous game,” Arath warned.
"But a game they have never seen, and therefore of which do not know all the rules."
"Alliances, humph,” Arath snorted. “We have not seen an alliance since the War of Calaridis, and that was a different time."
Nimoni smiled. “Different times call for different tactics. Do not underestimate the power of an aged elf matron."
Arath smiled, kissed her hand, and bowed low again. “Sheevos be with you and guide your hand, Milady."
Nimoni and her followers left behind a devastated city the next morning, but not without taking their fill of the sorrow to fuel their determination. She needed to find Tristandor and Aerinas, but, more pressingly, she needed to prepare her mind for the negotiations leading to the largest alliances ever seen in the realm of Vaaluna. It wouldn't be easy—it might be impossible for a woman—but nothing was going to stand in her way or keep her from doing everything within her power.
She eased her horse along the northern road through Mernith Forest with a sword at her side and Sheevos in her heart.
You have just finished the Chronicles of the Planeswalkers, Part One:
Alliances.
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About the Author
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B.T. Robertson has written two fantasy fiction novels in the Chronicles of the Planeswalkers Saga—beginning with COTP Part Zero—and several short stories. He obtained a Bachelor of Science degree in Information Science and Technology and works in the IT consulting field as a Microsoft Certified Systems Engineer. He has a daughter, Brittany, and lives with his wife, Nicole, and dog, Simba, near Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. His official website is located at www.btrobertson.com.
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