by Greg Curtis
The silence around the table grew as Ulnor and the others took in what they had just seen, something that they would never have thought possible. A dark elf swearing allegiance to the elven gods. When they returned they would no doubt be questioned about that, and equally they would be disbelieved since dark elves were demon spawn and therefore neither able nor willing to do such a thing. Unless what Alan had told them was true, and should that be shown to be true, much of what they had always believed about their swarthy cousins would be shown to be false. But that was their battle and for another day. In the present Alan still had one thing to learn.
“Alde, the tea is drunk and the food eaten, and there is still one thing you have not told me. Why have you sought me out?”
“Because the dragon shares fire with the bone serpent.” The words came out of her mouth almost flat, as she was apparently still shocked from having witnessed his vows. Despite that they were the worst words he had ever heard spoken and they shook him to the very core. He knew her words were true as he had felt it, and maybe that was why they were so terrible, especially when he knew what they meant. It was his turn to be speechless, to let the shock and horror show, but only for a moment. In some strange and terrible way, he knew not only that what she said was true, but also what her words signified. He’d almost been expecting it, and yet the understanding sent chills down his spine.
The dragon, the very symbol of life and magic both, was at war with the bone serpent, the very essence of unlife or undeath, and the world would be thrown into chaos once more, chaos from which it might not recover. She was talking about the possible end of the world, and he knew she had cause.
The prophecy was old, created a thousand and a half years earlier when the first bone serpent had walked the lands and the world had all but been destroyed, and yet the imagery was starkly vivid and terrifying even now. Dragon fire, a force of purification against the disease and walking death of the bone serpent. Dragons flying into the battle from above while the bone serpent slithered its way up out of the graves. The magical vitality of the dragons versus the walking decrepitude of the undead.
“The undead are walking again?” The first sign of the ancient prophecy, which in fact wasn’t actually a prophecy. It was simply history repeating itself after thousands of years as had been foretold at the end of the first battle, for the enemy hadn’t been killed, only beaten. They had always known he would return, it was only a question of when. Now it seemed that was no longer in question.
“Three times.” And the elves he knew would have double and triple checked everything they knew about the sightings until they were absolutely sure of their veracity. They were never reckless or overly swift to action. If they had seen the undead walking on three separate occasions through their sacred lands, then it had probably happened a dozen or more times and they had simply not been able to verify it. The evil was more advanced than it should have been simply because of their need for certainty.
“The moon over S’mon Gorge is blood?”
“For twenty full days now, and perhaps longer.” Which could only mean that the necromancers were somewhere inside the secret caverns of the gorge, working their dark magic and raising the dead by the light of the blood moon, all under the direction of the Great Necromancer himself.
“And you are seeking the ancient ones.” The wizards from ages past who would rescue the living world from the dead, or at least so it was said, so it was hoped. He watched the trio of heads nod as they admitted their mission, and he almost wanted to laugh, and cry. They had come because they believed him a powerful wizard, which he was, and had hoped him even more than that, an ancient wizard awakened early, which he wasn’t.
As powerful as he was, an ancient wizard would have been a hundred fold more so and they should have known that before they even set off for him. But they had come, they had found him, they had seen him and discovered his nature and that he was no ancient, and yet in doing so they’d still forced a mission upon him that was far more deadly than any he could ever have imagined. Now it would be his duty to carry their mission on for them, the most dangerous mission imaginable. He had to find and awaken an ancient where they couldn’t. They were simply too weak to have ever carried it out, and he wasn’t exactly sure he was strong enough either, or clever enough. Yet it wasn’t a choice.
“Clearly I am not an ancient one, but I may know where one is to be found. I will leave this evening to awaken him.” And though it wasn’t ever something he ever wanted to do, he knew he would do it, and do it as soon as he could. Of course that wasn’t what they had expected, nor why they had come. They had heard the tales of the demon spirit of the forest, and hoped that he might be an ancient returned to the world. Then they had seen him and discovered him to be a dark elf and hoped against hope that he wasn’t. An ancient dark elf would have been their worst nightmare. Now that he had confirmed that he wasn’t and thereby robbed them of their hope as well as relieving them of their fear in the same act, suddenly he revealed himself as one of the most powerful and knowledgeable of all living sorcerers – one who knew of the ancients, and knew where to call on them. Once more they didn’t know whether to be relieved or frightened. He saw no reason to help them through their confusion.
“You will need company?” Cathaylee sounded both nervous and certain. It had surely been made her duty to protect those who sought the ancients and to find the ancient wizard, and the danger didn’t scare her. But travelling with a soul stealing dark elf did. Protecting him as well would have probably been an affront to her sensibilities, and he couldn’t have imagined spending time with her as she recoiled in horror from him every day. Fortunately for both of them he didn’t have to.
“No. You cannot travel as I do, and you could not aid me. Only the strongest of wizards can awaken an ancient, and even I’m not sure I want to disturb a sleeping ancient any more than I want to tickle a dragon’s nose. But I thank you for the offer.” Actually he rather suspected being shot by one of Ulnor’s arrows would have been preferable, but it wasn’t a choice. Given what they had said the ancients had to be awakened, and only the most powerful of wizards could do that. Alde was strong, but nowhere near strong enough. If she had truly believed him to be an ancient, something he suspected she hadn’t, she would have taken a terrible risk in approaching him. No doubt she had thought him a powerful rogue wizard, or perhaps a dryad or woodland spirit in truth, never an ancient. She just had to make sure.
“How do you travel?” Trust Cathaylee to bring the conversation back to the mundane, but Alan was actually happy to have the conversation return there. It was better than thinking about the dangers ahead.
“I will fly. Part of my gift involves the transformation of flesh; my own as well as others. I will become a roc as I have many times before. It will allow me to travel many, many leagues in a single day, and to go where I believe an ancient lies sleeping. Only a winged creature could make the journey.” And only a master could attempt transformations such as he was speaking about, which was why Alde was suddenly looking shocked all over again. She shouldn’t have been. Dryads for the most part could shape change to a greater or lesser extent, but of course the elves, all of them, regarded dryads as lesser cousins, mainly because their towns and copses showed little of construction in them. To a visitor they looked like nothing more than simple clearings, and the elves despite their vaunted love of the natural world, couldn’t understand a people who lived in nests and built so very little.
“And how do you know where an ancient lies sleeping?”
“I am a Feralis. As the son of Sir Reginald, I have had access to all the libraries of the Order, and I have read very widely. I have also studied under many of their tutors, before I chose to travel and explore the world and learn from new masters. I have extensive readings of my own in my own library. Also though it will pain you to hear it, my mother was Aribella Moonwright, teacher of the ways of the Earth Mother to the dryads of Yersimon Grove, and later when she wed m
y father, she became Aribella Feralis, Priestess of the Order of the Creator. She taught me all the tales, spells and prayers of both vocations before her passing. From all of these sources I know many things that are not known by your elders.”
“Your mother was a Teacher? And a Priestess?” Neither of which could ever be considered evil or demonic, and though she was almost at the point of accepting he wasn’t in service to a demon, Cathaylee was having a hard time accepting that a dark elf could ever be in the service of the Mother or the Creator. But then all three of them were hearing things they’d never imagined, never wanted to imagine, and didn’t want to believe. Despite the fact that he didn’t want to tell them any more of himself, he knew he should.
“As was her mother before her, Karalisa Moonwright. Look their names up if you doubt me. Both were accepted within the book of the Earth Mother as her servants, both served with honour and faith, and both were dark elves. You are right in that other elves would never have allowed them to train as such, let alone take their vows of service to the Earth Mother, the evil of your people runs deep.” As did the bitterness of his heart.
“The dryads fortunately, cannot distinguish between a dark elf and any other elf. The differences in the hues of elven skin are all but invisible to them as they see directly through to one’s soul. And so they accepted them willingly as Teachers and were rewarded for their unelven decency with many years of faithful service.” As the dryads also welcomed many other dark elves among them, but he didn’t mention that. It was unclear whether that would add to the status of dark elves, or help to bring down that of the dryads, and surprisingly many elves looked down upon the dryads. Something about being uncivilised and living like animals. Though they held the same values and beliefs, and worshipped the Mother, the elves could never have understood the dryad’s anathema towards construction. The dryads lived in their trees and nested almost like birds, though a dryad’s nest was far more comfortable and well-appointed than a stranger would imagine. The elves on the other hand had their villages and houses also perched in the trees, but built with hammer and nails and made from the bodies of more dead trees. Never would the two agree.
Somehow he knew his family’s names would be looked up, though most probably by the elders who would want to check out his tale, and then, being the conservative group they were, they would then proceed to question everything. It didn’t matter. He had said what had to be said, he had provided proof of it, and even if they didn’t believe him, or didn’t want to believe him, he had opened up doubt in their certain knowledge. That was as much as any dark elf before him could ever have done. Now though they had given him the opportunity and there was more he had to do. It was time for him to be heard.
“It is time to speak of the price for my services.” That grabbed their attention, and all three sets of eyes suddenly bored into him as if he was going to attack them.
“You know that what I am about to do is dangerous by any standard, and that the likelihood is that as powerful as I am, even I will not return. You know that I am a dark elf, or at least half, and you hate and fear me for that. These are things that cannot be denied and it is pointless discussing them. All else that you believe you know can be, and most of it should be.”
“These three things you will do as penance for your people’s crimes, and as gratitude for my services.” All three flinched as he told them he was demanding penance. Despite the fact that it was right and proper, and a very elven thing to expect, none of them had ever thought that a dark elf could ask let alone demand it of them. They thought themselves too good, and his mother’s people, evil. Naturally they would have a hard time convincing their elders of his truth or his demands. So they thought.
“First you will faithfully carry the words I have given you, all of them, back to your elders. They will determine their truth or falsehood, not you. And so that they may do so you will carry this Anwar stone to them.” He picked it up from the middle of the table where it had patiently sat all this time, looking like nothing more than a rest for a tea pot. But suddenly they saw the markings etched into its base, and knew its truth. Soon the elders would too. Ulnor he noticed, looked particularly sick at the sight of the ancient mystical stone, perhaps fearing admitting his guilt to the elders, not that he had a choice.
An Anwar stone carried the images and words of whatever conversations had been spoken in front of it, and it carried the truth. If he or any of them had lied the stone would show that when its magic was unleashed and the elders witnessed the entire meeting for themselves. That should be an interesting council, though just because he had spoken the truth didn’t mean that the elders would hear it. There was a lot of hatred and prejudice to overcome.
“Second, your elders will issue a statement that it is wrong for elves to hunt dark elves, and that those who have done so, must face judgement for the crimes. The same judgement as if they had murdered any other elf, or human, or dwarf.” Ulnor gulped silently and turned even paler as he knew he was one of those who would face that judgement, and yet he also knew he had no choice. Elves were almost predestined to try and do what was right, and when the way was unclear, to seek council from their elders. To run from judgement was unelven, but then so was murder and Alan had little sympathy for him.
“Last but by no means least, this cottage these lands, this forest, are my home. Should I survive this task I will return here, and I will continue to live here in peace. I ask no more and no less of the elves than I ask of any other people who pass through my home. No evil shall pass through my lands, no harm shall befall those who live here. No more shall any take up arms against me, now knowing what I am or am not. Your people may pass through peacefully as they do now from time to time, but you will not seek to do me harm. I do not wish to have blood spilled on my lands, even of those who wish to do me harm. Five days ago I had to put down three dozen maltreated hounds and I had to punish a score of huntsmen. That is enough wickedness for me. If your people cannot accept me for what I am, they can avoid me. Take the long route around.”
“I want nothing to do with your evil. Actually, I want nothing to do with your people at all. You are not my kin.”
“Do you understand?” They did of course, they just didn’t like it. Least of all being classed among the wicked, by a dark elf of all people.
“Yes but -” Naturally they weren’t about to let his words - actually what they considered to be his insults - go without an argument.
“That is all.” With a single impulse he made his voice echo and resound through the forest until it sounded like thunder all around them, and reminded them once again that whatever else he was, he was a wizard, and a powerful one. It worked as all three jumped and then started twisting in their seats looking for any enemies that might be near, like the elementals still standing at attention in his garden.
“Your tea is drunk, what was needed to be said has been spoken, it is time for you to leave.” And just to add emphasis he woke up the earth elementals and then for effect raised another dozen fire elementals to stand beside them, while the sky darkened as the sun disappeared behind a cloud. It wasn’t as powerful a magic as it seemed as the elementals had already been summoned and were just waiting for his call, while the rest was merely an illusion just powerful enough to overcome their charms while they were distracted. But it looked impressive, and all three turned a few shades paler once more as they looked around and knew his strength anew. No minor mage could have managed such a feat of magic.
“Take the stone and have a safe journey back.” He dismissed them as would an irritable elder dismiss a naughty child, and it seemed to work. All three suddenly stood up as though their chairs had caught fire, Cathaylee grabbed the stone, and then they made a hasty and less than dignified exit to where their horses waited for them. If they’d been a little more observant, they would have noticed that their steeds were completely unruffled by what was happening all around them. They knew no harm was intended and they were happily grazing
. Horses were a lot smarter than people realized. Even elves.
He wondered though as they galloped off, if the horses would have been so happy to follow him into the mouth of death.
Chapter Three.
Alan took off that evening as promised. With his clothes, his light armour, some medicines, food and his weapons all bound into a bundle and then tied loosely to his ankles, he transformed into the shape of the fabled Roc, and then took to the air just as the sun was setting.
It was good to unfurl his wings and let the cool evening air rush over his feathers and he realized anew, as he did every time he took this shape, that it had been too long since he had last flown. But in his day-to-day life he had no use for this shape, or many of the others for that matter, and transformation was a difficult and exhausting magic. Of course landing for him was worse, as he was destined to crash, and after a while that became annoying and somewhat painful. It was also frustrating to be unable to do something that even the simplest of birds could manage. But that, he supposed was simply the price he had to pay for pretending to be that which he was not.
