The Revenge of the Elves

by Gary Alan Wassner

  “So we could walk through it?” Conrad asked. All he wanted was to get Tamara safely out of here and back to Parth. And away from Harlan Goodheart.

  “I wouldn’t advise it,” Harlan replied, his eyes flitting back and forth between Conrad and Tamara.

  “But we could?” Tamara pressed him. “If there were no other way for us to get out of this forest, then we could?” There was no other way. They had to get back to the Tower. She looked over Conrad’s shoulder into the blackness.

  “I suppose so,” he admitted. “But if you do…” he quickly added, “don’t take any of the nuts!”

  “So that’s why you want us to stay out?” Conrad snapped. “What about the memory loss? Were you making that up?” Tamara had the 11th shard in her pocket and this man was playing games with them.

  “No. No, I swear it! The Darkening steals your thoughts and doesn’t give them back. Ever. Ever,” he replied, his face contorted.

  “Then why do you venture in there if you know that?” Conrad asked.

  “The nuts,” he whispered. “I must have them. I can’t live without the nuts!” he conceded. Harlan looked like an overgrown boy, standing there unkempt and straggly. He held both of his arms out from his sides, palms up and shoulders hunched, like he was about to cry. “I tried to! I really did. But it was terrible. If I don’t have enough of the nuts, I have uneasy dreams, awful dreams…”

  “You’re a liar,” Conrad said. “I don’t believe anything you’re telling us.”

  “There are so few nuts now outside of that place. I didn’t want to go near it, but I had to! I had no choice. I swear. I had no choice,” Harlan pleaded.

  “Calm down. We didn’t mean to upset you,” Tamara said. She walked to him and stroked his back. They needed to learn more about the Darkening. She felt it. She knew it was real. She pressed her palm against Conrad’s chest and kept talking. “I know what’s wrong with you Harlan. You’re addicted to them. To the nuts. I should have realized it immediately, but they’re so sweet that the sugary flavor masks the taste of the drug.” She ran her tongue across her teeth. “These aren’t ordinary nuts. What causes both your need and your memory loss is not the Darkening, but the potion that abides within the meat itself,” she explained. Her work in the gardens of Parth taught her much about the wild things that grew in the forests. The addiction keeps him here, she realized. And it stops him from telling anyone else about what’s going on in these woods.

  “And what causes my sickness when I step across the line?” Harlan asked, disbelieving.

  “It’s probably your imagination,” Conrad replied. He was relieved there was a logical explanation for Harlan’s experiences. He knew something was wrong with this man, his stories were too wild.

  “Ha! You think me a fool, don’t you? The both of you?” Harlan said, backing away. “I may not be able to live without the nuts. Yes, my cravings are unbearable at times. And I admit I lied before,” he looked downcast. “Anyone can walk into it if they want to, but no one comes here anymore. I’m telling the truth when I say this is an evil place,” his eyes flashed. “I go for the nuts, I have to. Maybe it’s all planned. The nuts are bait,” his cheek twitched as he swung around. “That’s it! They’re bait. The Darkening wants me and the nuts are how it’s getting me.” He sounded even crazier now. “Go! See for yourself,” he dared them. “But remember I warned you!”

  Tamara took a step forward and Conrad thrust out his arm to hold her back.

  “Let me go,” she said as she pushed against his arm, trying to get by.

  “Please. Stay here with Harlan.” He turned his head so that Harlan couldn’t see his face. “The shard,” he mouthed, and she acquiesced. She had nearly forgotten about it, but he was right. She couldn’t risk going in there until she knew what it was all about. “I’ll go,” Conrad said.

  “Be careful,” she replied, stepping aside.

  The shadow upon the ground was clear, like a chalk mark in the sand, defying him to cross over it. He walked up to it, glanced back at Tamara, and stepped across. His body paled and faded, even though he was still standing there right before them! Tamara reached out to him, but this time Harlan held her back.

  “He’s right. Don’t go in there,” he warned. “I tell you, it’s not natural! It’s evil!” Tamara dropped her arm but her face was white as snow. “He’ll come back. The first time won’t hurt him so much,” he said. She grimaced. “It won’t,” he reassured her, though she took scant comfort in his words.

  He couldn’t see them anymore. Here it was much hazier than it seemed from the other side. And deathly quiet. Even his footsteps didn’t make a sound. Unnatural, he echoed Harlan’s description. Hundreds of the nuts lay scattered about. He looked ahead and his stomach heaved. His perspective was distorted though the air wasn’t clouded by anything. He couldn’t bring things into focus… except for the nuts. Everything else lacked substance.

  The deeper he got into it, the blacker it got. It felt wrong to walk here. Everything was inverted inside out. The air churned in silence but nothing else moved. His throat was dry. Each breath hurt. He forced his legs forward, pushing against the thickness of the space. The line on the ground crept toward him, consuming the light that remained and leaving a void beneath it.

  Then he realized! It’s destroying everything, devouring it! But it was worse than that. Much worse. This was beyond life. Beyond death. It was what he always feared, what Sidra had warned him about. He was freezing and he started to shake. Something cold pressed against his chest, icy cold, pushing into him, reaching for his heart. He couldn’t do a thing to stop it. He couldn’t lift a finger.

  “Come!” a voice beckoned. “Come to me!” His legs started to move.

  “Come…” it repeated, and he tripped forward.

  “Conrad doesn’t want the nuts, Harlan,” Tamara said as he grew more agitated. Harlan bit his lip and shifted his weight from leg to leg. “What is it, then, if not the nutmeats?” He fussed with his shirt and brushed invisible dirt from his arms. His agitation was growing as the time passed. “What is it Harlan?” Tamara insisted.

  “He never should have gone in there.” He pounded his left foot into the ground over and over.

  “Why? What haven’t you told me? Is it that dangerous?” she pushed him and he backed up, away from her, away from the Darkening. Her patience gave way.

  “This is the beginning of the end,” he whispered. “The end. The end. The end…” he repeated over and over.

  “Stop,” Tamara said but he kept right on. “Stop Harlan!” she yelled. “Now tell me! What are you talking about?” She managed the anxiety.

  “The Darkening!” he shouted, spitting as he spoke. “It’s the work of the Evil One! He caused this. He sent them here, the Forsaken ones.”

  “Who? When?” she turned on him, livid and frightened.

  “They came here, and this is what they left behind! He was with them. He was here. It’s the beginning of the end, I know it,” he repeated.

  “When were they here?” Her voice was cold. “When?” she demanded.

  “I can’t remember. I can’t…” he stammered. “You have to get him out of there. Do you have any power? Can you?” He pawed her arm. “Do it now. Do it.”

  Fear crept up the back of her neck. Now. Now.

  “He’s been there too long. If you can’t go in and get him, he won’t come out. Ever. He’ll never come out.” Harlan stuck his chin out toward her. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. But I warned him. I warned you both, and don’t say I didn’t. It’s dissolution. It’s the beginning of the end.” Now he was wailing.

  “Dissolution? Colton was in these woods? The Forsaken too? Why didn’t you tell us that before? Why now?” Conrad!

  “Yes!” he replied. “It’s all starting, right here! I know it! The Dark One came and he left this behind.” He flailed his arms in the air.

  Must warn him. Get him out of there. He’s no idea what he’s walked into, she realized.

 
It was up to her. There was no one else to intervene. Calm overtook her and she rose up straight and tall. She reached for the shard in her pocket. It was warm and she closed her fist over it.

  “Wait here,” she ordered. “I’ll get him.” Her eyes blazed with fire.

  Harlan shrunk behind her. “Yes, yes, yes…” he repeated over and over.

  Tamara inhaled and walked into the shadow. Something immediately tugged at her, pulled her deeper in. The shard centered her. She felt it throbbing in her hand. Her skin was hot and the feel of the air against it warned her she wasn’t safe. It pushed against her skin, pressed into the pores, trying to get inside her body. A shroud of incandescent power sprung up around her and she walked on. She couldn’t see well. Everything was distorted. She raised her hand in front of her and tried to wave the blurriness away.

  “Conrad?” Her words bounced back at her. “Can you hear me?” She knew he couldn’t. Her voice died in front of her and the words fell unheard.

  She couldn’t focus on anything. It was all shimmering and vibrating, and nothing had substance. She saw right through things, solid things, and one blended into the next. Her head spun dangerously. The fabric of matter deteriorated before her eyes. Nothing was familiar. Her body glowed more brightly in response, and she pushed onward. Conrad’s life was at stake.

  She was beyond fear. In the darkness she saw a place where no feelings could enter; no love or joy, no sadness or hate. She understood it. It was a painless place; a totally painless place. But, a place absent of tenderness, of compassion. Absent of everything. And it would possess her if she let it.

  “No!” she screamed. “You cannot. You will not!” She gritted her teeth and her mouth tasted metallic. Saliva rushed over her tongue like a river. “This is madness!” she yelled at the Darkening, her eyes pinpoints of fire. “I’m not a part of this! I’m alive! I… am… alive!” she screamed, and the aura around her intensified. “Conrad, can you hear me?”

  Her arm shot up and the shard blazed. The shadow retreated from it. It didn’t hurt her, didn’t frighten her; it called her and she refused.

  She plunged forward, and the power poured from her. The shard was life, it held life within it, all of nature’s history, and she wielded it against the void.

  “Conrad?” she yelled, her words roaring from her mouth like blue fire. “Come to me. I’m here.”

  Conrad was on his knees and he couldn’t keep his eyes open. The voice calling him had fingers and they took hold of his mind and pulled it. But the pain was gone. It didn’t hurt anymore. The further he crawled, the less painful it was. He stopped fighting. Soon he’d feel nothing at all. Soon it would all be dark… dark and peaceful. “Come,” the voice bellowed in his head. “Come to me!” And he did.

  “Conrad!” Tamara yelled. “Fight it. It’s unclean! It is not what you think it is; what he’s telling you it is!” She lit up the night. “Conrad! Come to me!”

  He heard her voice, the same words calling out to him. But different. He saw a pinpoint of brightness in the back of his head, but he couldn’t move. He was curled up in a ball on the ground when she spotted him. His eyes were white, rolled up in their sockets and he looked dead. She saw him and the power burst from every part of her. Shafts of energy shot out, wild and random, and the Darkening gave way to her assault.

  “Get up, Conrad.” Glowing fingers encircled his arms, propped up his shoulders and helped him to rise. “Now.” The disembodied voice floated all around him, his body weightless.

  “Come with me,” she said, and together they stepped across the blighted threshold, back into the world of the living.

  Chapter Thirty-one

  Tomas felt Ormachon’s presence immediately. It seemed so natural, as if he had always been there inside his mind. All his fears and worries seemed far away and unimportant once the Lalas touched him. Sadly, though, his concerns returned with the tree’s first thoughts.

  You have been distant, Ormachon said. And you blame me? the great tree asked.

  I do, Tomas answered.

  Yet you do not know why I do what I do, Ormachon stated.

  Not unless you tell me, Tomas replied. He was surprised himself at how upset he was.

  Must I explain myself even to you, Tomas?

  No. You don’t have to. He shrugged. But if you leave me in doubt, how am I to react?

  It is hard for us, Ormachon said.

  I missed you, Tomas admitted. I felt so alone and you didn’t comfort me. It was hard for me too.

  You have never been alone, Tomas. It is the human mind that isolates itself from the world and from others. You are as much a part of me as I am of you.

  Am I? Tomas looked down. He felt bruised. Where must I go now? What must I do? he asked. I see much suffering, and I feel much pain.

  More silence. No voice spoke to him.

  You answer only what you wish to now? Why? What has changed? Tomas asked.

  Silence. Tomas pushed his hair from his brow and leaned his head to the side. Please! his mind screamed.

  We walk a thin line, Ormachon spoke. Our destiny is no longer clear. Though we pass from this world, we leave behind what remains of our lives. In order to protect, we must sacrifice. In order to be efficacious, we must endanger the balance.

  Tomas flinched. Was I to be a sacrifice? He asked the question that had been plaguing him for weeks. Finally. Did you betray me to the enemy, Ormachon?

  The question is irrelevant, the great tree answered.

  Not to me! Tomas replied, and his heart beat faster than ever before. You have kept secrets from me and you have hurt me. He refused to cry. His hurt was too profound for tears.

  You are here with me now. The chances I took resulted in your presence. I did not intend to hurt you.

  But you did. And I cannot forget. Tomas pressed his shoulders back and stood up straight.

  The Gem grows weaker each day and the darkness encroaches, Ormachon said.

  Yes, I know. I feel it too. But why would you lead me into danger? Was there no other way? Is our goal not the same?

  If you are alive, then you are in conflict with life’s opposites at all times. As the trees weaken, what appears to be certain becomes merely possible, and we do what we can to guide the weave. It is not always what we would choose if the choice still remained, Ormachon said.

  Choice always remains! Isn’t that what you’ve taught me? Are you telling me you betrayed my location to one of the Possessed because you had no choice? Tomas asked.

  I was not forced to act as I did. But there was a greater good that my behavior served, Ormachon explained.

  So it was you? Tomas said. He let the air out of his lungs.

  Yes.

  Tomas shut off his mind. He needed to think. There was a higher purpose. Ormachon admitted that. There was no intention to sacrifice him. But what if he didn’t survive? What if Elion hadn’t found him and brought him into that cave?

  Had I died out there on the plain, how would you have felt? Tomas had to know. Ormachon was his family, his life. Would your purpose still have been served?

  You make this harder for me than I expected, Ormachon answered. Had you perished, Tomas, a part of me would have also. The bond goes both ways. I would have suffered in a manner you could not know of, and I would not have been the same again. But I would have survived. I would not have died.

  And would your purpose still have been served? he pressed on.

  Yes. Though that outcome would never have been what I desired.

  Tomas’ head recoiled like he’d been struck square in the face. His temples throbbed. His death would have been acceptable to the Lalas! His own tree was willing to sacrifice him. He could barely stand.

  I understand, Tomas replied when he was able to form a coherent thought again. I understand, Ormachon, he repeated. I am saddened, and I shall never forget this moment, but I understand. Things would never be the same. I shall look upon us differently from now on, Ormachon. I’m sorry, but I shall I mus
t measure loyalty against a different standard. He was tired. So tired.

  You must do as you must, Ormachon conceded. Would that it never came to this Tomas. There is much danger in whatever paths we choose. We sacrifice in the name of life. It’s the brightest light that casts the darkest shadow.

  We. Yes… we. I’m beginning to understand. There is freedom in this. I sense it… It frightens me though, Ormachon, Tomas admitted. He would have lived after I died, he thought. Of course he would have. Of course.

  I could not have taught you this. You would never have believed me if I tried.

  Silence. Sadness. Sorrow. Strength.

  Your brother must find the Gem, Ormachon spoke.

  Yes, Tomas replied. And I must help however I can.

  We are dying, Tomas. Each choice we make has been borne of grave necessity. When we are no more, you and your kind must be able to carry on. How will you learn otherwise? Ormachon replied. Be the light as ours fades away, the eyes the world sees through when ours are blinded, the voice that speaks when ours are stilled.

  Is it the same for us all, all the Chosen?

  Each must decide for themself. The balance has been upset, and it cannot be set right without the advent of great changes. Some things have passed beyond repair.

  It is to this moment I have been born, Tomas replied.

  Go home, Tomas. Go to Gwendolen, Ormachon instructed him. There are things you can only discover there.

  Finally, Tomas thought to himself.

  A page was torn from the first of the great books the council harbored when the time of man began. The Dark One stole it and took it with him when he left his brethren that last day. In the rage of his descent, he scorned its value and it was taken from him. A loyal crusader brought it to what would become your father’s lands. Though he searched, Colton did not unearth it when he razed the Kingdom. Find it amongst the ruins, Ormachon said.

  My home? My home was with you. I have no home now, Tomas thought. How can I trust you again?

  This page has never been read. None have yet been able to read it, not even Premoran. The moment may soon be upon us when it can be deciphered, he continued. The ring, Tomas… use the ring.