And while he wreaked great havoc upon part of the dark force, it was clear to the great wizard, that there was a part, the part emerging for the homestead, the part dragging the small girls that was being protected by a force at least equal to his. But what magic could be summoned to protect that which he sought to eradicate? Who could possess the power to do so and still have enough in reserve to conceal its existence? What singular force was there that could stand against Intellos when propelled by the exhilaration of unjust rage?
As if on cue, a darkly hooded figure riding a mist cloaked beast materialized into his sight. Beaming red eyes were set into the shadowy beast's horrible face. Its master sat confidently upon its hunched back, shrouded in darkness, his features unable to be seen underneath his black hood. The shadowy figure malevolently raised his black staff and uttered words from a language the Wizard was unfamiliar with. At its conclusion, black smoke billowed from the tip of the black staff. Within moments, it had surrounded the wizard, making it impossible for him to see.
Intellos raised his hand, mouthed a few words of his own, and dismissed the black smoke upon the breath of a stout breeze. It would take more than tricks to hold this Wizard. The dark figure dropped his hood revealing an older man, but when magic was involved, age was impossible to determine. Older because his hair was greyish and his eyes showed a sort of fatigue. Not from being tired as such, but from carrying an impossible burden for an impossible length of time. Again he raised his black staff and again magic lept to his control. But Intellos could still not sense it. This time, he did not have time to consider its genesis or nature, for two black bolts of energy screamed toward him. Had a wizard from The University done the same, he would have had time to prevent their success, but as this wizard left no clue to the magic he employed, Intellos was not able to erect an appropriate shield. And the black bolts struck, knocking the wizard from his horse.
He landed with a forceful thud upon the ground that expelled the wind from his lungs. As powerful as wizards could be, they were still bound by the physical necessities of existence. And when removed, such as air with which to breathe, it became difficult to concentrate and impossible to cast return spells. As Intellos gasp for breath, the dark wizard dismounted the black, mist shrouded beast and walked to stand above him. He spoke, but not before releasing another paralyzing black bolt thudding squarely against the fallen wizard's chest. "Who are you to stand against us? You must know that your existence is limited by your misplaced hope."
Regaining his composure and wind, at least enough to weakly respond, Intellos answered, "Hope. What is there if not allowed by hope?"
"Certainty, dread, and pain. That is what we are fueled by. And that is what directs our power. Our preparation extends further than your discoveries, Wizard. You cannot hope to stand against us," responded the dark wizard.
"All things are possible through hope, for it is the bridge that connects us to a greater existence than what you are capable of without it," said Intellos defiantly.
"That said from a wizard still upon his back!" Instantly they both launched their respective attacks. The hope driven light from Intellos met the rage fueled stream of utter blackness from the dark wizard head to head, neither wavering nor giving an inch. The strain upon the dark wizard's face was growing, but the same could not be said of Intellos whose face showed a calm, relaxed focus. The longer the two energies collided, the more solid Intellos grew, and the more strained the Dark wizard became.
Finally, as if the collision itself could bear no more of the combined power, an explosion of both light and dark erupted at the center of their confrontation. Both wizards were thrown backward, but only one was able to escape. When Intellos gained consciousness, he saw no trace of the dark army or of the dark wizard. Nor did he see any trace of the girls he sought to save. But what he did have was knowledge; specifically the knowledge devoted to the tactics and magics the dark army would employ against the Stone Keep. As he regained his bearings, he weakly whistled in search of Ethdios. As fixed as a strong and deeply rooted oak, his ever present stallion responded and was at his side within moments. Intellos put one foot in the stirrup and grasp the pommel. In a fluid, but weak motion he was upon the saddle and riding toward the stone keep with urgency. If he could only arrive in time.
His army moved slowly, and as anxious as he was to do his Master's bidding, a slow progression across the country-side did have its advantages, not the least of which was the further propagation of dark rumors helping to increase the awe and fear. There was no point to slaughtering everyone. If there were none left alive, no rumors could be spread, and no fear would be manifest. Yet evermore so important there would be none left to dominate. While his taste for the inhabitants of the small farms and villages resulted in an overwhelming desire to spill every bit of their blood, he was yet bound by the dictates of his Master. While the lust of drinking each and every soul provided him with a tremendous amount of joy, such was the severity of deviation that there was no amount of temporal elation he could possibly feel that would counter balance the level of eternal pain he would surely suffer should he deviate from those dictates. It was interesting to him that the same pain driving his hate and power was also that which held him bound and obedient.
He sat in his tent, cross-legged. As he looked to the generous plate of food in front of him, he could not help by deny its appeal. It was expertly prepared, as it should be for the next High King of the Silver Empire. And had it been a few years ago, his taste for food would have propelled him to dive deeply in the enjoyment of tasting its deliciousness, but such desires had long past. At first, his sense of taste for conventional food had only dulled, something he would have welcome while still residing at the orphanage. But the suppression did not end with its full removal. Instead, over the last several years, his enjoyment had turned slowly to revulsion. The taste of mortal food now sickened him to the point where its smell, if potent enough, would incite the rising bile in his stomach. However much his distaste for food evolved, it was not accompanied by the equivalent removal of his need for sustenance. He still needed to feed.
It happened slowly, insidiously while he was being tended to by one of his young attendants. He had developed a taste for the young, their dedication, attention to detail, and willingness to obey his commands. She was proceeding to bathe him when he first noticed the smell of her blood. Sweet, with a hint of metal, he could almost feel it as it flowed through her young arteries and veins. He could also almost see its increased rhythmic flow timed perfectly with her pumping heart. He was hungry and had been growing more so over the last couple of nights. As she leaned over him to wash his back, his hunger peaked, and on pure impulse, he gripped her head, drew her close, and sank his teeth into her neck.
Immediately her blood erupted from her pierced artery and spilled down his parched throat. He drank and relished every gulp of bright red blood. He gorged himself upon her. As her blood cascaded down into his stomach, he felt an instant return of power and formidability. Compelled by the dual effect of its sweet taste and infilling power, he did not end his bite until she hung limp in his arms. Only then, when his drinking was met with no such response of blood as she had been drained dry, was his immortal thirst quenched and his grip loosened.
"My Lord, may I be permitted to enter?" asked Vismorda from outside of his moderate tent.
"Of course, Vismorda. I await the report from the latest attack on the nearby farm," he returned.
She pushed aside the tent flap and entered, "It was a great success, My Lord. It will provide us with the necessary food to sustain us until we reach The Stone Keep, as you predicted."
Responding with a small grin, Jesolin asked, "Did we meet with resistance from the local city garrison?"
"We did, but also as you predicted, they proved to be easily dispensable. If this is truly an extension of the forces we will face at the Stone Keep, our victory is inevitable."
"Make no mistake, Vismorda, we
will face staunch resistance once we reach our destination," he said with a hint of annoyance.
"My Lord? What is it that vexes you? We are on the threshold of victory. Tell me what it is," she asked as she stepped closer to him.
"I am hungry," he spoke.
"Then perhaps I have something that will please you. Food for our army is not the only thing we found at the farm. We did find two of the purest little jewels I have yet seen," she motioned to the tent flap and continued, "Bring them."
Into the tent, a cloaked figure lead two bound young girls who were dressed in white gowns. They were dirty, one of which had a bruise upon her face suggesting she had put up a struggle. At the sight of Jesolin, the one with the bruise erupted in to a primal scream, and had she not been bound, would have attacked him. The other remained a stoic contrast, unspeaking, unmoving, but simply stared at him. "That will be enough, you can remove them now," Vismorda directed the cloaked figure.
As the girls were led away, one still fighting and yelling, and the other still stoic, Vismorda turned toward Jesolin and spoke, "I apologize for the bruise, but that one has spirit. Once I break her, I believe she will serve you well. What shall I do with the other? She seems to have some sort of simple mindedness. I do not think she is fully aware."
"Train her," he answered.
"My Lord? I do not think her capable," she questioned.
"Because you lack the sight of souls I possess, I will excuse your insolence with a warning. In regards to the silent one, make no mistake, she is spirited and lethal; perhaps even more so than yourself. Is that what you fear; someone who can exceed your use and take your place?" he answered with no jest in his tone.
"I fear only you, My Lord. Certainly not that young girl. I will train her, at your request," she said dismissively.
"She will exceed you, My Dear, in all matters. Break the one, and train the other. But make no mistake, Vismorda, they are mine."
"As you desire, My Lord. Do you desire me to stay with you tonight?"
"No. That will be all. You may go," he instructed. And as she turned away, he beckoned to her, "One more thing. What are their names?"
"Hithelyn and Jinola, My Lord," she answered as she passed Mordin during her exit.
"My Lord Jesolin, I have a report you may find interesting to hear," said the elder necromancer.
"Please proceed."
Pausing to form his assessment, he spoke slowly, "While the garrison was easy enough to dismiss, I encountered another force that was able to stand against my efforts. His use of knowledge was," pausing again, "formidable."
"Yes, He is the former Grand Wizard of the University," he said to the surprise of Mordin.
"My Lord, you know him? Can we expect to encounter more of them at the Stone Keep?"
"I do know him. Our histories have been crossed for some time. But we do not need to worry about him. Measures have been taken."
"As you say, My Lord, but we should quicken our pace. I am quite certain he will ride in warning and report on our endeavors. It required a substantial amount of my power to escape."
"Worry not. All things necessary to ensure our victory have been set in motion and now progress with the weight of an uncontrolled avalanche falling down the mountain side. We need only continue on the path set before us. The Stone Keep will fall, and with it, we will rise."
"My Queen," said a loud and defiant voice, "I am sorry for the recent events in your life. We all share a sentiment of deep sorrow and condolences, but we feel the decisions you have made in the wake of your sorrow have led to the demise of a considerable portion of our safety. It is common knowledge that our boarder agreement with the Ogres is tenuous at best, and should the knowledge of the massacre become theirs, it will quickly progress to our other strained relations resulting in their increased temptations to expand their respective holds. We barely have enough left to protect that which is ours, but to send more of our forces to assist the Silver Empire now seems like a poorly conceived attempt at vengeance. An attempt that would leave our nation open to a combined effort from our less than stable agreements. I am sure they have already constructed standing plans of attack and are in need of only an opening with which to advance. How can you create such an environment?"
Sitting on the Throne of Light, Queen Glinovia considered the words from Lord Hinthial. She had long known he was a reasonable Elf and considered him one of her throne's remaining friends, staunchly loyal to House Dordrosis. His relationship to her father's father extended further back into Elven history than her memory. The late King Rend had considered him loyal enough to appoint onto his war council, and she continued his involvement. Though his opinion was currently set against her own, she could not excuse its merit and reasoning. He held a very historical view and weighed all decisions against it. She may have lacked his perspective on history, but made up for it on the first-hand experience of the horror they were currently facing. As such, her resolve for the correctness of her judgement was equaled to his denial of it.
"My Dear Friend, Lord Hinthial, once again you offer us the voice of reason," she genuinely smiled at him before continuing. "No one can dismiss what you have said and the risks you have enlightened us to. For generations, House Dordrosis, has benefited from your council, and no doubt, it would be the same now. However valid your sight is, and however true your warnings are, had I not witnessed this new threat for myself, I would have decided to do the very thing you have insisted; however, I cannot ignore what my very eyes have seen." Standing, she continued, "It was revealed at the massacre, that we face a much greater threat than the intrusion of our boarders from our longtime enemies. What we face now can be described as nothing short of hell driven horrors, horrors that we know almost nothing about. We do not know their motivations, nor do we know the extent of their power. We do not know their goals or even why they are here. But we do know this: they exist to destroy and consume, like the very fire they are composed of. I do not believe their appearance to be a coincidence. Rather, I believe it to be a coordinated effort of a greater threat. A threat that is neither concerned with boarders and commerce, nor long held grudges and disagreements, but is focused on the eradication of mortal life of all of its races, including ours. Should we not seek to assist the Silver Empire, and potentially end this threat before it has gained more momentum, I fear it will wash over us like the great tides of the Endless Ocean. Make no mistake; this is our one chance to cut the head from this growing serpent, a serpent that has yet to take form. And once it does, I fear there will be nothing we can do. We have but one choice; we must assist the Silver Empire. Therefore, I ask the members of the War Council to approve my request and send the remaining strength we can afford, led by Lady Soliana, to aid our oldest of relationships. We must assist the Silver Empire."
Having witnessed the same events as the Queen, Soliana was in complete agreement with The Queen's assessment and subsequent decision. At the hands of the carnage, there really was no other choice left for the Elves. Regardless of its beginning, this dark army would soon sweep across the land in an attempt to consume the entirely of Avendia. Surely the War Council would see the severity of Queen Glinovia's words and surely they would agree with her decision.
It was Lord Hinthial who stood to respond to the Queen's speech, "My Queen, again we cannot overstate our sorrow for your family and Great House. And we only wish to assure you of our loyalty to the Red and Black, but the Elves have not grown to the height of our status by attending to the possible. We have drawn our growth from only that which concerns us, not the nations beyond our borders. It is one thing to defeat our army outside of our boarders, but quite another to amass the strength to confront us directly in our very home. Should this army advance beyond the Silver Empire with its desires set to our lands, they will be met with more strength than the rabble they will face at the walls of the Stone Keep. They will face the Stars themselves! There is no such army, nor will there ever be an army capable of d
efeating the divine objects protecting us. We cannot endorse extending our might beyond our borders where our magic cannot be used in its protection. I am sorry, Queen Glinovia, but The War Council cannot agree to your request."
It was Soliana who spoke next, "How can you do this? Have you not heard the words of your Queen?" she said as she defiantly stood and spoke out of turn.
"Lady Soliana, although you have proven yourself worthy to our Queen through your dedication and skill, you have not yet reached the level where you can speak at the War Council unless requested by the war council. And as yet, that request has not been made," Said Lord Hinthial, calmly yet forcefully.
"What you have decided will be the doom of all Elven kind! You must see that!" she spoke in disregard to the Lord's warning.
"Lady, Soliana, you have been warned which is more than any other human save one, who by your hand is no longer with us, would have been offered. Should you persist in this behavior, you will be removed regardless of your status," his threat grew as did the volume of his tone.
"Need I remind you, Lord Hinthial, that while you preside over the War Council, I still rule over the entirety of the Elven Kingdom? As such, the Lady Soliana's removal will be at my discretion and mine alone," stated the queen, coming to the aid of her champion. She turned toward Soliana and motioned her to sit, which she did. Queen Glinovia was about to address Lord Hinthial again, but was interrupted by a robed elf standing just inside the entrance. Because of the verbal altercation, the queen had failed to notice her royal messenger until this brief respite. As the voices and commotion calmed; however, her attention was drawn to his presence. She motioned him to approach.
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