by R. E. Fisher
Eod had appeared within this circle, in front of the tome. He snapped his fingers, and the torches along the chamber walls lit with bright flame. Eod made a quiet utterance, and the book opened to a page covered in archaic runes. He pulled open his robes, revealing numerous intricate tattoos on his chest. His hands held a plethora of spices and minerals; while he read the book, he began to chant, throwing the components into the pentagram. With each component tossed and each verse of the spell completed, the room became filled with the stench of rotting flesh and sulfur. Smoke filled the small room, and the torches flared irregularly. Eod stopped the chanting and tossed a small metal chain link into the pentagram. As the metal met the stone in the center of the pentagram, there was a quick flash of blue-white light. Light and smoke filled the hexagon, but because of the magic the mage was casting, it didn’t seep past the lines on the floor. As the smoke defied the laws of any known physics, a guttural growl erupted from a shadowy figure within the pentagram. Upon completing his maniacal growl, the figure began spouting foul curses in many ancient—and forgotten—languages at the mage. The black, mottled beast looked at the mage, his intelligent eyes betraying his anger at being torn from his own realm. The demon stood to the full seven feet of its height. Its long, greasy silver hair flowed past twisted, pointed ears atop its skull. Its sharp, angular features were fearsome enough, but its teeth were the most fearsome feature. Its mouth seemed large enough to consume the head of a horse; its teeth were silver, always visible, contrasting against skin so black that it carried a blue hue. The sounds of its curses were grating, as though metal was being torn each time it spoke.
“Cease your curses, foul one. They will do you no good here!” His will and magic now controlled the beast.
“Who are you to interrupt me? Curse the elves who shared their knowledge with your kind,” the demon spat.
“You’re familiar with your binding, so do my bidding or face your master’s wrath. Make your choice, foul beast.”
“What do you want, wyrm master?” it asked, venom in its voice. The beast leaned forward as if to attack the mage. It reached its long, sinewy hands forward, and the runes on the floor grew brighter. As the beast neared the boundaries of the pentagram, bright flashes of energy jumped from the invisible barrier to the beast’s long, silver fingernails, which appeared to be more claw than fingernail.
“I seek knowledge of the prophecy of Vastia. An outworlder has arrived as a forerunner to the prophecy. If he is in fact the one, you must tell me.”
“I’ve no knowledge of this. If it is true, though, my brothers and I will return to rule your putrid kind. We will make slaves of a few, and devour the rest. I’ll seek out the information you command me to find, but know this, human: make a mistake, and you will serve me. In my realm!”
“I’ve another demand, demon. Locate the lost weapons of Vastia and Jerrous. Once you have, tell me where they are.”
“What do you think to do with them, human? You’ve spent your life trying to tame your masters, and you even believe you have. But it is only to the extent we have let you, since we play our games too.”
“If you wish to become so involved in my affairs, there is precedence—but it will cost us both, thane! Tempt me not, for I have slain your kind before and may do so again! You are a tool to serve my ends, and you shall do so within the tenets agreed upon by the ancients, or you will suffer the agony of your infringement of the covenant! Bow to my will, foul beast!” Eod commanded, the strain of controlling this monster showing on his face as sweat began rolling down his temples.
Eod reached out to the demon, lightning shooting from his fingertips. A deafening thunderclap boomed through the enclosed room, ricocheting from the walls. Electricity erupted toward the misshapen beast and then flowed through it, causing it to convulse backward and lifting it from the now glowing floor. The stone within the pentagram melted and charred black from the intense heat of the controlled blast. The beast let loose a howl of pain, agony apparent on its face; anger replaced the pain, and then the anger was replaced with a masochistic grin. The flesh of the demon’s feet smoldered.
“As you command, but as I’m sure my master is aware, those of my kind are blinded to any knowledge of those relics.”
“They may be hidden to you, but I’m sure there are those who now reside in your realm—those who once served you and your kind in this realm—who have the knowledge. Do you wish to continue to play this game?”
Eod raised his arms and began to utter the ancient tongue of the magi. His casting was interrupted by the hurried denial of his wish, and the demon proclaimed that although he had no idea of where the weapons were, he would find them. Eod looked the demon in the eye and asked, “What else do you know of the weapons?”
“Master, the only thing I can present to you now is the riddle of the sword.”
“I’m well-versed in the sword’s lore. Do not bother to repeat it, thane. When you have the information, return to this spot, and I will appear. Be gone.”
Eod waved his hands and uttered the dismissal command. The demon disappeared in a puff of smoke and sulphur, bowing to the mage as he disappeared. On the decorated table sat a bound book that contained the historical record of the Spear of Vastia and the Sword of Jerrous. It told of how they had been created and for what purpose. Eod looked at the tome, and the pages began turning back toward the front of the well-used book. As it stopped, Eod looked at the pages facing him; printed in large letters was the Riddle of Jerrous.
The blade ye seek, yet mayhap find
Will be found, by one thy must bind
If thou fouls the soul of he
The sword, to make thine, will never be
He is not of thy race
Yet ye shall know him by his face
He seeks the peace of one who’s lost
But peace will have its cost
Think thou will to figure this out
When all ye thought will turn about
For one will come to claim the sword
Return it to them, or face thy lord
For if ye fail to take heed
I shall punish thee for thy deed
Hinder thee, I will, I say
For thy arrogance, thee will I slay.
Eod looked at the page and read through the verse a second time, and then a third time. He had been studying this verse since he had entered the Order of the Magi as an apprentice. It was his and every other apprentice’s initial exposure to the First Conclave.
Before the First Conclave, the magi had traveled the lands earning their living by helping farmers with the weather, helping fighters clear the lands of monsters, and other such menial tasks. As each of them traveled, they looked for someone to pass their knowledge on to; upon finding a suitable student, they would teach. When they passed on or were killed by superstitious peasants, their possessions were either given to the student or were buried by the peasants. Usually they buried them deep—very deep. This system had seemed to work for the mages for centuries. But as time progressed, they realized that their own knowledge failed to increase with their progenies.
And as the humans had moved into the Elfland Forests, the elves had hunted them as they would any other wild creature. They were smarter than most beasts, and as such, they provided grand sport for the elves. But the human population continued to increase, regardless of how many were hunted. It was then that the humans began forming towns and villages, while the ensuing destruction of the centuries-old trees needed to build those towns and farms angered the elves.
The elves retaliated. Every forest village was leveled, and all humans who had occupied the villages were slaughtered. Under the direction of the high elves, the woodland elves were tasked with restoring the glades and fields to their previous beauty. Upon their completion, there wasn’t any sign that humans had even occupied the areas, except for the bones that lay under the rich, fertile dirt. And the elves returned to their individual pursuits.
There were rumors of
ancient families of elves who had broken away from the woodland elves and had occupied caves, much like the dwarves, but for pursuing their magic rather than gems or metals. Humans would never understand the choice these elves had been forced to make to pursue their black art.
A human mage by the name of Peladine sought out the dark elves and found them deep beneath the earth. Even as Peladine entered the dark world of these learned creatures, the elves were already aware of his coming. They met with him and brought him into the circle as an observer. Peladine watched as these elves brought forth demons, creating arcane magic to meet their needs deep underground. Peladine was shown how the humans would overwhelm the elvish population. With a certain degree of disdain, the Shadow Elves recognized this fact; but they also knew that humans would never invade their homelands under the earth. But they did want their cousins aboveground to pay for forcing them underground to pursue their dark arts. And they had a proposition for Peladine. It was a singularly dark choice for the human mage.
In exchange for their knowledge, Peladine had agreed to pass this knowledge on to those humans, who would further the ends of the dark elves. He spent over a century learning their arts, learning all he could—the intricacies of their spells and the powers this new art brought him. His life was extended using the black art, but it was always at the expense of others—their souls and their lives. The Shadow Elves said that it was the only reason they kept prisoners.
He left the caves of the Shadow Elves to spread the dark arts. Word of his power circulated throughout the lands. Those humans having rudimentary training in magic were summoned, for who could refuse him and his newfound power? He selected only those he deemed worthy; those aligned with Peladine were brought in to share his knowledge of the black arts. Those who refused to align their views to the mage’s were then chased down and killed, or they had to hide their abilities from his army of magi. No one outside the Crimson Order had any idea of what Peladine’s agenda was until another great mage escaped.
Peirswraith had been chosen to succeed Peladine in the Crimson Order. He had faced one final test necessary to be deemed worthy to achieve the title of Grand Magi. It was a test he had failed. One usually didn’t survive failures of tests of this sort; however, Peirswraith did so. Not only did he survive, he also managed to escape—by the graciousness of a noble who happened to find him near death. The noble brought him to the court of King Deron the First. His Highness had seen mages before—they had petitioned for places within the government—but Deron had seen through their lies and subterfuge. Their intent was to corrupt and to lead the King on a quest against the elves. Granted, there was no love lost between elves and humans; but Deron was wise enough to see that if they settled outside the Elflands, there would be no conflict with the elves. This sentiment was echoed by Peirswraith upon his return to health. Peirswraith, after a lengthy amount of time at the court, began to gain the trust of Deron. Peirswraith shared all the knowledge he had learned from the Crimson Order, and the royal sages documented the information. Peirswraith sought permission from Deron to begin an order that could stand against the Crimson Magi, but Deron felt that to do so openly would incite the magi to act against his young kingdom. However, he did agree to quietly fund a search for those of talent who would meet the needs of Peirswraith. A small keep was erected on behalf of Peirswraith, near the kingdom but not within its borders. Far from prying eyes, far out on the Bedrin Seas. It was to this location Peirswraith took his students, and with their help, he built a keep of power. Once he felt that it was safe enough to teach them the arts—all of them—he began. He was the first Master of Towers.
As each apprentice completed his or her studies, he or she left the keep bound by word. All were tasked with the sole purpose of hiding awareness of the keep from the Crimson Magi and finding additional aid in the fight against them. It was more successful than Peirswraith could have imagined. As generations passed and their power increased, the Dragon Magi, as they became known, aligned themselves with the kingdoms, serving the kings and nobles. These mages were taught to anticipate and fight back against actions taken by the Crimson Order.
The problem the Shadow Elves had failed to realize was that the humans, who proved most capable with magic, were also the most incapable of controlling its release. The Shadow Elves watched in horror as the humans corrupted the dark art and learned of opposing spells and cantrips, but most worrisome was their discovery of the dark realms of Asmordia. Horrified and angered, the Shadow Elves watched as spells of summoning became banishment spells, and spells of darkness became spells of light. They watched as those students of Peirswraith carried his knowledge past even those living deep in the dark recesses of the earth. Seventy generations of study and perfection of magic had passed since Peladine had been taught, while only two generations of the dark elves had passed. The Shadow Elves found themselves cursed by all. The students passed the masters once they understood the language of the dark art, and the dark arts then became the Art of Light. The Dragon Magi swore to uphold the use of magic to protect man and the downtrodden. Some humans even said that once you could speak elvish, you were halfway to becoming a mage. The passion the elves found so distasteful in humans was their strength, and it served them well.
Soon after, the Shadow Elves found themselves the focal point in certain sects as the evil that needed to be scourged from the earth. As the retelling of Peladine became further and further from what had happened, few Shadow Elves dared mingle with humans who were outside the Crimson Order. The First Conclave was a joining of all three of branches of the Magi. Dragon, Crimson, and the gray robes joined together to defeat the Shadow Elves. The gray robes, known as the Order of Balance, were those mages who chose only to practice the art of magic to the benefit of themselves. Knowledge gained for the sake of knowledge only.
Herol Demonac had the now ancient Shadow Elves bring forth two demons from the planes of hell, the demons Jerrous and Vastia, to aid him and his army in a war against the elves and all those who would support them. The Shadow Elves sought to destroy the Crimson Magi for what the Shadow Elves saw as their failures. The Shadow Elves viewed the Crimson Magi’s refusal to bring the demons from the lower planes to aid Herol in his fight against their hated cousins as the final betrayal. It was not a betrayal, only survival. Those of the Crimson Magi knew that Herol was not only a threat to the elves, but to any who would oppose him, elf, human, or dwarf. He did not wish to rule; he only wished to destroy. He used man’s hatred of the elves for his own gain.
The mages soon realized that the one art of magic the Shadow Elves had failed to perfect was in creating items that performed magical feats. The elves had thought this type of magic was less than pure, but in battle with the dark elves, the humans had proved it to be quite effective. The Shadow Elves’ betrayal forced the Crimson Magi into the position of assisting their enemies. There was little hope of the humans winning against Herol and his demon hordes until the white, crimson, and gray robes joined together.
Eod looked up from the manuscript and wondered what foul demon Peladine now served. Eod made a small motion with his hand and found himself outside the summoning chamber, in the great hall of his keep. He walked out onto the balcony, which overlooked the lake surrounding the island his keep occupied. Unable to see the land across the water without the aid of magic, Eod watched as the whitecaps rolled across the lake. His thoughts were interrupted by two men who stepped out onto the balcony. They stood by the large doors, remaining silent.
Eod looked at his two assassins. The twins. Machakos and Machillis were as identical to one another as was any spell Eod had cast twice. The two men could pass for human if they maintained their helms, but once they removed them, one could tell they were half-elvish. Their heads were clean-shaven and tattooed with an ancient text, which expressed a commitment to their chosen profession. The tattoos reflected their vow to live their lives in such a dark manner that it would guarantee them a place of leadership in Asmordia in their
afterlife. Their tall ears were pierced with various pieces of jewelry Eod had given them as they ascended rank and as their loyalties were proven. Each piece of jewelry also enhanced their inborn abilities for violence and fighting. Their light leather armor was so black that it was like staring into the void when one looked at it. The armor was so well cared for, it did not appear to have a single nick or smudge on it. It, too, had been a gift to them from Eod. The twins carried daggers that had been forged during the great elvish war, each enchanted with a unique purpose. The blades held magic that when used for murder, a portion of the victims’ knowledge or thoughts transferred to the wielder of the blade. Though that knowledge could be of anything, it allowed the twins to ascend in their art much faster. They always found a use for such knowledge. It also drove them insane.
Their inherent ability to move silently and to see in the darkness served them well in their profession. Eod had found them among one of the villages to the south, on the other side of the lake. The town in which he found them hadn’t paid their duty to him. So, in exchange for the funds he didn’t need, he took the children from their home—from their parents’ arms. The twins had been brought to the keep, and there they had been raised and trained by the master assassin Niloy Oiy. Every waking moment of their lives had been spent learning the art of death and the skills necessary to make them better assassins. Their knowledge of anatomy made them the rival of most sages. Their knowledge of human motivations gave them the ability to anticipate what their prey was going to do. They were so efficient, even the assassins’ guild recognized that whatever endeavor they were involved with, it would supersede the guild’s own charters and agreements. It was a hard lesson that the guild had only to learn once.
