by JW Baccaro
Kelarin, on the other hand, smiled delightfully.
“A fine eater your son is,” Athanasius observed, looking to Mirabel.
“Just make sure you remember his dishes probably need no washing,” Mirabel answered, chuckling at how there wasn’t one speak of food left on Darshun’s plates.
“Apologies,” Darshun offered, timidly glancing up.
“No no,” Athanasius replied, “You do no wrong. Be at peace. My daughter and I are glad to fill your belly. Please, rest assuredly you are home and loved.”
Darshun smiled, sipping his tea, then shifted his gaze to Kelarin, the angelic Elf approaching the exit. “Where are you going?”
She stopped, glanced back, meeting his saddened eyes. “I have some other duties to attend to. Don’t worry, you will see me later Darshun, I promise.” She opened the door and walked out, gently shutting it behind her.
Darshun could hear her gentle footsteps going down the stairs and wished he could’ve been with her, holding her hand. “There goes my Angel,” he whispered.
“What was that?” Caelestias asked, fixing a not-so-friendly gaze on him.
“Oh—nothing.”
Caelestias turned to his father, mumbled something and then began to sip his tea.
Athanasius just smiled, staring at Darshun, then to and fro at his visitors, continuously smiling his expression like an everlasting sunshine which could uplift the darkest soul on the blackest night.
In a way, he reminded Darshun of Aurelius the one who saved Darshun after his battle with the Demon Lord…A tone in his voice, kind and compassionate with an aura of blissful peace.
“Seeing how you all are finishing up the meal, I best begin our manner of converse,” the Lord of Ashhaven spoke.
“Please do,” Nayland commented wiping his mouth with a napkin, sounding almost impatient.
“Very well, young Nasharin.” Athanasius took a large gulp of his tea to clear his throat. “Simply put, entering Syngothra unnoticed is impossible. Even to approach its black borders and slip in quietly is fruitless. To the east, lies an ocean of swampland that breathes poison, the aftermath of a great battle fought long ago during the first Great War. The Dark had launched an all out assault using its mightiest warriors and shooting hundreds to thousands of ‘unnatural’ weapons raining down across the land. Demonic weapons including unquenchable fire—”
“Sythra!” Darshun interjected excitedly. “We’ve encountered it before. Actually it is quenchable, just takes a lot of power extinguishing it. But perhaps you never meant to be so literal—oh.” He saw the flames in Caelestias’ eyes, realizing his all-to-often mistake of interruption.
“Do not interrupt the Lord of Ashhaven!” Caelestias growled.
“It is all right,” Athanasius interceded, raising up a hand. “He means well. Yes Darshun, Sythra, along with other weapons of darkness. Some of them creating hallucinations that caused the Light to strike down its own, or elements that turned sections of ground into dense black waters, its force pulling down any who set foot onto it and much much more. Death was everywhere, and though the Light was victorious, only two survived. One of them is now missing—possibly dead. The other is I. As time passed the land brewed poison, for the excessive amount of demonic elements transformed the acreage to swampland. It stretches for miles and even the mightiest Nasharin cannot breathe the fumes and live.”
“Those weapons really must have been something,” Darshun added. “To cause such a change in habitat.”
“That is what objects created by Demons always do…Destroy, such as the Dark Crystal, which has the power to crush the entire earth. For these reasons the Light bans sorcery, because it comes from masters of the Dark, ones who are not permitted to touch ground on earth any longer. So, they use earth’s creatures as puppets.”
Darshun recalled a time when Mirabel told him about the Fallen Angels who once sought to take over the earth but were crushed by Holy Angels—the beings whose spilt blood created the first Wizards eons ago. The Fallen must be these ‘masters of the Dark’ Athanasius talked about now.
“So, east into Syngothra is out of the question,” Athanasius continued. “And to enter from the west will lead you into the open frozen wastelands, bitterly cold and guarded by the Demon Lord’s Dragon Melgothris, Guardian of Syngothra. He dwells within the Demon Stone Mountains and comes out daily to patrol the ice lands.”
“A Dragon?” Darshun asked, eyes widened. “A real—live—Dragon?”
“Do not fantasize about seeing him, dear son. He’s the largest, most vicious—deadliest Dragon ever to have lived on earth. He’s responsible for over a million deaths. The very name ‘Melgothris’ is Demonic for ‘Black Death.’ No, there is only one way, through Asgoth.
Darshun’s jaw dropped. “Asgoth, but—how? Cullach, Draconians, Dark Elves and the King and Queen heavily guard that way. Who knows what else!”
“Indeed. But the best path into Syngothra lies about five miles east of Castle Volborg. There’s heavy woodland in the area making chances of passage easier. It’s risky, though not impossible.”
“Father is correct,” Caelestias agreed. “It is the path I led the Aryeh through to rescue Kelarin. Although…” He glanced to his father. “Only Kelarin, two of my brethren and I returned. The Eye saw us.”
“The Eye?” Mirabel asked, not liking the sound of that.
“At the highest peak of a hidden tower dwelling just beyond your ancestors’ woodlands, lies a terrible entity engraved in stone,” Athanasius continued. “In the Outer Realms, this thing would be known as a Throne, a type of Celestial Angel which serves as a bearer of the throne of Abidan, having the shape of an orb or wheel with spokes and shining eyes in its rims round about. No deed amongst the stars goes unnoticed by a Throne’s gaze. Except here we call it the ‘Eye,’ for it is a fallen Throne brought to this physical realm by a sorcerer, a deep dark sorcerer of mystical power. His name is Valnar.”
“What did you say?” Nayland asked, rather forcefully.
“Valnar. He’s an agent of the Dark King Tanarokai and his Eye has watched over Asgoth for three centuries. From almost every angle the Eye appears as nothing more than a mist of shadow, yet it sees all foes who enter Asgoth. And what it sees is transported to a forbidden pool within the sorcerer’s lair, revealing everything to him. That is why the country has never been conquered or taken by the Light. Many have tried but were slaughtered. It was great risk to rescue my daughter, for as my son said, the Eye saw them while passing through, communicated to Asgothian forces and tracked them down—killing many. Now they will strictly be at watch, especially since the end draws near.
“This Valnar is not human, correct?” Nayland asked, again with the same forceful tone.
“They say he’s not, that he came from across the Great Sea centuries ago. Many rumors have been spoken about his origin but no one knows what type of creature he truly is. His secrecy runs deep.”
“So, what must we do?” Darshun asked. “Because entering Syngothra or even Asgoth, sounds pretty impossible now.”
“You and your companions, along with some of the Aryeh, must siege Valnar’s Tower and destroy him. Then, the forbidden pool will erupt and the Eye shall be no more.”
“If the Eye is ever watchful, how will we reach it?”
“There is only one way, a path through the heartland of your ancient people, the Ackarda. For reasons yet unknown, those woodlands possess such wicked black magic beyond Valnar that the Eye’s gaze cannot pierce into them. The path is also haunted by vengeful spirits and guarded by a Witch. No one who has ever entered has returned, save only one, my son Caelestias. He will be your guide. Once you defeat Valnar, you will be able to enter Asgoth undetected. Caelestias shall lead you through that land and then to the only profitable path one can take into Syngothra, the path that leads to the entrance of the Unholy Altar. From there on, we do not know how to find the altar the trail is a maze with evil hidden around every corner. It shall be up to you t
o accomplish. And after you have done so…You know what you must do.” He glanced at the crystal on Darshun’s neck.
“Yes, I must pass through the Unholy Fire of the Dragon Gods and place the Golden Crystal onto the wretched altar to destroy it, vanquishing Abaddon’s dark kingdom and power forever. I pray I can persist against such trials and evil until the end.”
“The task is hard, too difficult for one who is of little faith. But your heart is strong.”
Darshun lowered his eyes. “It has not always been.”
“Whatever your mistakes, that’s all in the past. Your faith has grown. Trust in it Darshun, trust in He and you will not fail. I promise you.”
Darshun knew who Athanasius meant by ‘He’ Abidan his God and Darshun’s God as well. Then something else came to mind, something not even the Wizard Olchemy could answer, and a little off topic from the current discussion. “Lord Athanasius, there’s one thing I’d like to know and perhaps you could tell me?”
“Simply ask.”
Darshun touched his necklace, rubbing the crystal. “How is it the Golden Crystal came to be discovered at the borders of the first Loreladia? I mean, it was discovered by another Nasharin called Kaylis, but who buried it there in the dirt originally?”
For the first time an expression of sorrow ran across Athanasius’ face and he let out a deep sigh. “I will try my best to answer that. Not many miles from here is another elvish kingdom called Eldeno, the home of the great prophet Eldenith who the crystal was given to by the three mystery men amongst the prophecy. Eldenith had a son called Methodius who married and had two children, a daughter named Meyanna—your mother, and a son named Satyrus. Being his offspring, Methodius shared the secrets of the Golden Crystal to them, but Satyrus, one who secretly practiced dark magic, grew angry from its holy presence within Eldeno—his soon to be kingdom after his father would step down…” Athanasius paused and gazed into empty space as he seemed to be saddened by the events he spoke of.
Darshun eagerly sat forward upon hearing the true origins of his golden crystal.
“So, he stirred up lies claiming that a great evil lies within Eldenith’s holy temple, a stone of ungodliness purposely kept by the prophet himself, to control the minds and actions of the population, and how one day it would destroy the kingdom. From his keen words some fell to believe him, others did not. The hatred and dissension grew so rapidly that a civil war erupted. The violence grew so terrible Ashhaven was forced to step in and the fighting went on for six months until Eldenith decided to take the crystal away. But he could not take it to Ashhaven, for Satyrus’ secret magic was powerfully corrupting that the war would turn to Ashhaven itself. Instead he was drawn to three golden stars moving across the night sky. All gave off a presence similar to the three mystery men. In his heart he believed the ‘stars’ were they, calling for him to follow their path. He proceeded in doing so and no one has seen him since, or even knows where he has gone. For never did he return; not a word, not a message."
Speculating Darshun asked, "Was Eldenith the other fighter you mentioned who survived the battle with you in the First Great War?"
"Spoken correctly."
"You said he went missing, or was possibly dead."
“He never returned, but it is believed he hid the crystal in a safe, keeping until the time would come when it would be found and used for its true purpose. As for the war among the Elves, it ceased and was over. Much blood had been spilled, Methodius’ by his own son, even my dear Queen.”
Until now, Darshun wondered the whereabouts of Kelarin’s mother. However, the pain on Lord Athanasius’ face clearly spoke of tragedy, so he decided not to ask how that loss had taken place, though he believed she must have been quite the Goddess to give birth to someone like Kelarin.
“Meyanna abandoned Eldeno and chose to live among us until sadly she was slain too,” Athanasius said. “And not by chance."
“…So much death.”
“Aye, war always brings such tragedies.”
“Interesting though, Satyrus is my blood uncle.”
“Precisely, and Eldenith your great grandfather.”
Eldenith, the original keeper of the Golden Crystal. “Incredible. Wow!”
“But now Satyrus rules Eldeno and the citizens are ever corrupted by his sorcery.”
“Such tragedies indeed,” Darshun said, sipping the last of his tea, swishing the liquid around in his mouth before swallowing.
“All in the past. A new hope has come.” A more serious look passed over the Lord of Ashhaven’s face. “Now, please lean forward and close your eyes.”
“…Um, as you say,” he muttered, feeling puzzled. "Am I about to get another necklace or something? Like at Olchemy's?”
Ignoring him, Athanasius put his hands on Darshun’s head and spoke a prayer in the elvish tongue, the sound of the language beautiful, poetic.
Darshun suddenly felt new power streaming through his body. “What manner of power is this?” he asked, breathing heavily, feeling like he’d run a hundred miles with a tingling all throughout his body.
“I have awakened your elvish powers. In time, you will understand how to use them. Now come, you all must take rest here tonight. For you shall set off at dawn.”
Catching his breath he answered, “Yes, my Lord Athanasius—Oh! May I ask one more thing?”
“You may ask anything you like.”
“Where is my sister Minevara? I have yet to meet her!”
“At the moment that wild girl is not within the city,” he answered with a chuckle. “She’s a wanderer. Though I expect her return shortly.”
Nayland stood up and began to exit the room.
“Where are you going Nayland?” Darshun asked, baffled by his abrupt leaving.
“As Athanasius said, to take rest. Only, I cannot rest unless it is in the forest under the common trees, as I've done my entire life. Don’t worry, I’ll return at dawn.”
“…All right.”
He left hastily, and all could feel something stirring within him. It’d begun when he heard the name Valnar. A slight anger or displeasure swept upon his face, the same look he wore when first hearing the name ‘Darshun’ not many months ago in Loreladia, which drove him to vengeance. Did he somehow know this Valnar? Time would tell.
CHAPTER SIX
FIRE AND ICE
Nearly a dozen Dark Elves were in pursuit of a female Elf, fleeing on her golden mare. They’d come out of nowhere, so it seemed; some chasing her on horseback, others using the trees, quickly leaping from one to another. No matter where she went an enemy drew near.
I cannot shake them, she thought. There’s too many.
One among the tree tops shot a Sythra arrow at the ground before her. The explosion blew her off the mare, her beast tumbling into the brush. Just a little closer and the dark yellow and orange flames would have devoured their bodies, but it seems the enemy wanted the female Elf alive—for now. She struggled getting up, still shaken from the blast.
The Dark Elves surrounded her, hissing and snarling. “Citizen of Ashhaven,” one said thrusting forward a sword. “Tell us what you saw?”
“Enough to know where Eldeno’s allegiance stands,” she responded casting him a smirk, licking her lips. “I also see twelve cowardice heathens encircled around me. What’s the matter boys? Too afraid to fight a lady one on one, hmm?” She smiled, setting a hand to her sword, sheathed in its black leather girdle.
“Throw down your weapon.”
“Oh, you would like that wouldn’t you? I’ll tell you what…I am going to predict the future. Before five minutes rolls around not-a-one of you shall be breathing. Unless of course you depart now and go back to whatever filthy holes you crawled out of, heathens.”
“You are one, we are many!” He laughed. “We will have you screaming for mercy before the end.”
“Now, now. Do not make promises you cannot keep.”
“Ugh! Let’s just kill her and be done with it,” one of them snarl
ed. “Hang her corpse in the trees, maybe scattered in pieces.”
She ran her tongue slowly across her upper lip, watching them move in closer, excitement flowing through her veins. “Oh yeah, this is exactly what I need.” Unexpectedly, she threw a series of lightning-fast kicks, striking one in the ribs, another his chest and a third in the groin—he painfully went down, falling upon his back and she stomped her boot onto his throat, crushed it, then jumped high and over the others ragingly storming in.
“Kill her!” one shouted.
She unsheathed her weapon. “Yes boys, kill me,” she grinned.
Swords drawn, they came at her with clashing steel.
She made two more swift kills, chopping off both their heads, but the constant pursuit of fighting them all would eventually overwhelm her—time to turn things up. In the middle of a duel she leaped backwards, getting enough distance to prepare herself for Transformation.
Those who were charging—stopped when a great energy filled the air.
The female Elf began to take on a different appearance. Her long golden hair became like white ice infested with fiery streaks, bay blue eyes evolved to a crystal white—her gaze terrible. An aura of white mist and orange-red flames danced around her body, and her cream colored skin changed to silver-blue.
“Ugh! She is Nasharin!”
With sword in hand she attacked, loping off the head of the closest opponent, went on to the next one taking off his head as well, then swung in a wide arch slashing the throat of another—carnage lying at her feet. “That is six,” she boasted. “Yet the odds still seem unfair—for you.”
“Blasted Nasharin. Baste in this!!” He summoned a fire spell, the flames materializing above her head.
When they shot down, she countered by blowing a white mist out of her mouth. The mist met the fire in mid-air and extinguished it. “It’s like I play with children,” she taunted, her icy lips curving into a wide smile.
