The Trapped Mind Project (Emerilia Book 1)

by Michael Chatfield

  Esk-za-mov-shir! the sprite screeched.

  Daskoon-vash. Deia finished the incantation. Her body went limp from the Mana that passed from her, to her arms and into her bow and arrow. She released the arrow and it disappeared off into the heavens.

  “Hold!” Lox yelled. He had been watching Deia and knew what came next.

  The sprite started to call incantations, pulling its tree-limb formed hands up its trunk and outward, as if she were a blooming flower.

  The skies darkened over the sprite.

  Hundreds of arrows darkened the sky: first one, then two, and finally tens striking around the sprite.

  The creature wailed as Earth magic that powered it was struck in kind, tearing bark and plants from its form and opening up its Mana center. Arrows struck it in the Mana well that powered it. The creature screamed; the forest seeming to move away from the cries.

  It reached out to the forest atronach, pulling the power it had used to animate it and using it to heal itself, fresh plants and bark covering her wounds.

  Deia had strung another arrow and let loose as her deluge of arrows stopped.

  “Charge!” Lox called.

  The sprite turned. Green smoke moved to its hands as it readied its strike. The Dwarves charged forward, just twenty feet away.

  Deia fired her arrow, causing the sprite to stumble and lose its incantation.

  Deia jumped for another tree. The sprite let out Mana bolts and followed Deia, who focused on evading the sprite’s attacks.

  Suddenly, the forest’s movements stopped.

  Deia circled back, seeing Max pull his blade from the sprite’s body.

  The sprite moaned and seemed to collapse into itself. A crystal of green with branches around it fell to the ground, the essence and power of the sprite turned into a Mana-crystal.

  “Well, fuck me if those forest arse holes aren’t a pain in the arse!” Gurren said.

  The Dwarves looked tired after taking the sprite’s Mana bolts and fighting the creature after just finishing off a damned big wolf.

  “We need to return to Cliff-Hill,” Deia said, her face pale with fear.

  “What is it, lass?” Lox asked.

  “The sprite—it didn’t attack us because we killed the wolf. It attacked us because the Earth Lord is supporting the Dark Lord. They care not who they kill as long as they gain their power,” Deia said.

  The Dwarves’ faces were a myriad of emotions, from confusion to shock and distrust.

  “The Dark Lord is a fickle one but the Earth Lord has kept his covenant with us,” Tounk said. “Now he supports the Dark Lord against any and all forces in the area, including our own. We need to pass word to the clans. The sprites are revered by the Elves. They are allowed anywhere. If their lord has broken his covenant, then have the chance to attack us from within,” Deia said.

  The Dwarves didn’t look as though they wanted to believe Deia. After all, they had worked their entire lives giving praise to the Earth Lord for the bounty that came from the gifts that he had bestowed upon them.

  Having him break faith with them—it wasn’t just painful. If it was true, it would make the center of their beliefs in active opposition to them.

  “Deia, go on ahead. We will follow.” Lox held Deia’s eyes.

  She could see the pain in them, but also the trust in her. They had been through many battles together. If she told him that the Earth Lord had turned against the Dwarves of Mithsia, he believed her.

  Steeled by the trust in his eyes, she bowed her head at the great trust he placed in her. She took off at a run, slinging the bow and running faster than she had ever run in her life.

  Her father tended to the garden of the Earth sprites. He was a holy man devoted to the Earth Lord and the forests of Kufo’tel. Sprites were incapable of lying; it just didn’t come to them. Fear seemed to be etched into her features as she ran faster and faster.

  Chapter 5: Turmoil

  Dave hammered on the latest sword he’d been given. All of them were getting sheathed in silver to fight the undead and unnatural that promised to hide in Boran-al’s Citadel.

  He had felt his watchers for the last three days. He didn’t even care to walk over and confront them. Someone had been talking and they’d taken interest in him for some reason.

  A familiar person burst from the forest, running at her full speed. Dave’s hammer hit and he knew something was wrong. He’d never seen her move that fast.

  His eyes rose as he looked toward the trees where the Elven residents lived. Deia disappeared into them. He watched, sensing something wrong.

  “Boy, what is it?” Kol asked, his voice curious instead of gruff.

  “Something is wrong,” Dave said.

  The Elven rangers started spreading out, talking to one another; others rushed off.

  “Something’s up. I’ll be back,” Dave said.

  Kol grunted his agreement.

  Dave took off at a run, leaving the two watchers in his dust. Wearing his blacksmith apron, he jumped from the clearing around his growing compound and danced from tree to tree.

  Elves were now running into the forest, headed straight for Kufo’tel and the approaching army. Elven runners had rushed into the barracks that now served as the headquarters for the incoming forces and those who were keeping an eye on the citadel.

  Dave came in a few minutes later.

  Dwarves grunted and allowed the halfling entry. Through his hard work and what he had done with the other warbands, he had earned a modicum of respect.

  Wender was talking to an Elf, the room quiet. Wender let out a yell, filled with anger and betrayal. He punched a timber support, making it ring with the impact.

  “That fucking bastard.” The Dwarves’ faces turned dark and pensive.

  “Wender?” Dave’s voice cut through the room. He had never seen the Dwarven leader this angry.

  “The Earth Lord has broken his covenant with the People of the Mithsia and Kufo’tel. His sprite attacked Lox’s warband, willed by their lord to attack us whenever possible. Earth and Dark have entered an alliance, an alliance against those of us who live here,” Ela’mair said.

  Wender visibly shook with rage now.

  Dave saw Ela’mair’s face twitch. The man was close to three hundred years old and Elves were famous for being able to hide their emotions.

  “What does this mean?” Dave asked.

  “It means that every damned mob and creature in the area that is dark or born of the land will attack us with everything they have, and the Earthen sprites will lead them. As their Lord commands, they obey.” Wender’s eyes were dark and his words hot as he put a hand on Ela’mair’s shoulder. “It means that the sprites that are held in reverence in the Kufo’tel home wood are now our enemies,” Ela’mair said.

  Dave didn’t know what that meant. His confusion must have shown.

  “While the Dwarves make brilliant items of their resources as a show of their skills and the pride of the gifts the Earth has given them, the Elves look after the forest. Earth sprites are the embodiment of the natural power of the forests. They are powerful creatures made from a forest’s inherent natural power. The Elves of Kufo’tel might have been born of a higher caste, but we now live with our siblings, the wood Elves. We care for the sprites and actively look to create more and strengthen our ties to the land. They are revered by us, seen as physical manifestations of the forest. They cannot lie and are immensely powerful. For decades, we have lived with them, invited them into our homes, and into the heart of the Homewood,” Ela’mair said, his frustration clear.

  “And now that their master sides with the Dark Lord, they will do his bidding. Deia and Lox’s warband killed a sprite calling about the end of the Kufo’tel Elves. They will attack from within the Homewood. The Elves are racing to the nearest relay station to pass the word and link up with the Elves coming to fight here in order to save their home,” Wender said for Ela’mair, who was having a hard time concealing his feelings.


  The relay system was a series of flags that ran down Dwarven roads to send messages at rapid speeds. Dave hoped it would be fast enough.

  He felt his anger as if it were a physical thing. Here the People of Emerilia were being toyed with by the lords and ladies of the six Affinities, stuck to by their whims and the whims of the travelers.

  It had been travelers who had started this mess; now the Affinities were weighing in.

  “Fuck ’em,” Dave said, his voice like his hammer.

  The Dwarves and Elves looked to him, feeling the anger that radiated from every fiber of his being.

  “Fuck the Affinities, fuck their plans, and fuck their creations. Here we stand together and here we’ll take their fucking plans and grind them into the dust. They might be gods, but we’re the People of this land. I stand here with brothers and sisters—Dwarves, Humans, and Elves. Fuck the lords and fuck their games. Fuck those who wish to bend us to their rule. I say it’s time we take their fucking game and shove it right up their fucking asses.” Without knowing it, Dave’s words were being infused with Mana. His voice showed gray smoke that seemed to drift from him, like rain smoking off hot pavement. His eyes seemed brighter as he looked to those around him.

  Dwarves hollered their agreement, hard eyes and voices rising with them. A few of them even came from the normally reserved Elves.

  ***

  Master Olouv’Mal walked through the halls of respite. Here and there, people walked, talking to one another or taking a seat among the natural beauty of the space. Brilliant gardens filled with color and beauty moved gently in the breeze, their scents filling the air and making Olouv’Mal relax as he wandered to where the sprites stayed. They moved, humming and talking in low tones.

  They were great magical beings, the embodiment of the forest. They came to the Elves, walking among them and gathering their energies before they returned to their task of tending to their lord’s forests.

  Their animated chatter died down as Mal walked in.

  “I am sorry to interrupt.” He nodded to the four sprites who were currently taking rest with the Kufo’tel.

  “Our lord has sent his commands,” one of the older sprites said, speaking in the language of elements.

  “Oh?” Mal asked.

  “Your time has come to an end. Once again, this forest will be returned to him.” Another sprite started to chant, power welling out of their body and to their hands.

  The other three also started to chant.

  Mal looked at the four and laughed.

  “My lady was right—you are a tricky bunch.” Mal let the thin veil of cowering and servile gardener fall away. The first sprite sent a powerful stream of Earth Mana at him.

  “Isum.” Red light swelled and poured from his hand, beating back the Mana stream from the first sprite and striking it in the chest. It screamed out as the sprites recoiled.

  “Fire Affinity,” one of them said.

  “Well, you didn’t think that we weren’t going to have a safeguard on you lot? We might be a People of Emerilia, but we are not dumb and we keep meticulous records. It seems that your lords do not remember the battle of Elves against the Forest of Asha-moor.” Mal saw it in their glowing green eyes—the fear, the memories.

  They were old enough to know of that aged battle.

  “My familial name is not Olouv, but Oson, Fire mage of the Evnal Elves.” Their casual confidence was gone. He had fought legions of their kind when the forest rose up to attack the Elves for delving into Fire magic.

  His lady did not take paladins but she had taught them powerful spells and arts that few other mortals would dare utter.

  “Attack!” The sprites poured into Mana bolts, threw spears made of wood. Mal weaved between the attacks, blunting an attack here, stopping another there. He only used Mana when it was necessary.

  A smile passed across his face. It had been too long since he had danced in the name of his lady. He remembered the way that she had moved with the power of a thousand suns and the grace of a flickering flame.

  The sprites looked tired, but they were drawing Mana directly from the well that powered the respite.

  As he danced, Mal muttered out an incantation. With the last word, a tiny amount of Mana left his body, traveling deep into the respite.

  “Your attack is weak and useless.” The sprites drew from the raw Mana more than they had ever done so in their lives. They were determined to carry out their lord’s bidding, even if it meant destroying their bodies.

  Mal continued to dance as his incantation worked. The flow of Earth Mana slowed while new power coursed through the ground. He’d cut through the Magical Circuits that fed power to the sprites. He finished a second incantation, summoning a fire lizard with four heads. It spewed fire at the sprites, making them rush to defend themselves.

  Other guardians were now moving into the respite; lightning arced from their hands, their faces impassive as they rained damage down upon the sprites.

  In minutes, it was done.

  Mal turned to the other guardians.

  “Secure the village. Prepare for an attack and open the well back up for all Affinities,” Mal said, leaving the room. The Elves bowed their heads and rushed to obey.

  Elves who were wandering around asked what was going on.

  Mal moved out of the glade, past trees that had been grown into majestic homes, toward the largest of them all. Guards opened doors for him as he strolled through the house. A woman sat at an intricately grown desk made from the tree that grew all around them.

  “Mal?” Evel’Houn said, a shocked tone to her voice.

  “The Earth Lord wishes to fight us like he did at Asha-moor,” Mal said.

  “What are you talking about?” Evel’Houn demanded.

  “I must talk to the lord. The sprites are now against us,” Mal said.

  Evel’Houn put down her work and guided Mal out to a garden on the second floor of the massive tree-home.

  Sitting on a chair with a young Elf in his lap was a man reading from a book. A clear look of pride and happiness was on his face as the child asked him for clarification on part of the story.

  The lord looked up, his dancing eyes stilling at Mal’s visage.

  “My lord, the forest is against us,” Mal said to Evo’Mael, lord of the Kufo’tel Elves.

  “I’m sorry, Toun. I will have to finish this story later.” Evo’Mael rose.

  “Okay, Grandfather.” Toun was only eight rotations old but he was a sweet boy. Among a race where it was rare to birth a child, he was a rare gem.

  Evo’Mael kissed the boy’s head. An Elven maid moved to Evo’Toun as Evo’Mael moved into his ancestral home.

  “Raise the defenses. I had hoped that they would work with us instead of playing their foolish games,” Evo’Mael said, his voice angry.

  “I did, too. It seems that they were under the commands of their lords. There was no breaking that commitment,” Mal said.

  Evo’Mael nodded sadly, glancing back to the garden and then to Mal. “Very well, Oson’Mal. Send word to the other Elves and raise the rangers.”

  Mal saw the shock on Evel’Houn’s face about his familial name.

  “Yes, my lord. I will give devotion to my lady. It has been a long time since I properly conversed with her,” Oson’Mal said.

  Evo’Mael bowed his head slightly. “Remain close and pass the word to the other mages to prepare themselves. I will send word to Lord Fend personally.”

  Oson’Mal bowed. “My lord.” With that, he turned and moved to leave the home.

  ***

  Lord Fend was examining a new vein of gold as Wrole, his adviser, came up to him.

  “Lord Evo’Mael wishes to speak to you,” Wrole said in his ear.

  “I didn’t know he was visiting,” Fend said.

  “He’s not,” Wrole said. His eyes held his lord’s.

  “Good work, lads and ladies. As much as I wish I could be down here pulling this big ole vein from the ground, the court
pulls me back.”

  The Dwarves made understanding noises.

  “We shall have to have a toast to your new discovery later!” he said, getting grins from them all. He grinned himself, but it never reached his eyes.

  He marched into his chambers moments later. There, on what looked to be a beautiful mirror, was not Fend’s reflection but Lord Evo’Mael. Runes of power glowed around its face, showing that the Mirror of Communication was active.

  “Lord Evo’Mael.” Fend nodded. He hated all of the Elven customs; he liked getting to the heart of the matter instead of the flowery talk and different posturing.

  “The Earth Lord has sided with the Dark Lord over Boran-al’s Citadel,” Evo’Mael said.

  His sudden announcement shocked Fend. His eyes thinned as he understood what Evo’Mael was saying.

  “His sprites were commanded to attack my people. If not for certain safeguards, then they would have killed many of my people. I suggest that you fortify your lower areas and close your gates. The two lords will throw everything they have at us in order to see their plans through,” Evo’Mael said.

  “The Earth Lord fighting us?” Fend said. The entire idea was ludicrous. They lived in harmony with Earth, used its Affinity to shape its resources into grand creations.

  Evo’Mael leaned forward.

  “Listen here, Fend. This isn’t a time for us to start arguing and getting into a fucking pissing match. Your father and I made this alliance and here we will test it. Do you stand with me, Fend, Lord under the Mithsia, son of Fernir?”

  Fend’s face became darker as a grin crept across his face. Slowly, he stroked the warhammer that rested across his back.

  “Well, why didn’t you say so?” Fend growled. “We stand together, now and till these lands are no more.” Fend knew the oath he was giving affirmed the oath that his own father and the Elf in front of him had formed so many years before.

  He had heard of the fickle nature of gods; he had given his devotions but placed his trust in the men and women of Emerilia. It was through their actions, not the gods’, that their mines showed profit and that they were able to eat and survive. He drank with them; he laughed with them.