by Aya Knight
Suddenly, Kale felt something cold and firm press against the flesh of his face. He leapt back, throwing his hands up defensively in front of him.
“That’s hot…yes, yes, hot indeed,” an unfamiliar voice spoke.
The four companions looked between the bars to see a grey-skinned elf, old by the appearance of his leathery skin. The elf pulled his thin, bony fingers from the iron bars, sticking them between his dry cracking lips. Kale cringed; the elf’s nails were long, yellowed, and incrusted with brown filth—yet he sucked on them without hesitation.
The old elven man glanced up; his white hazy eyes locked onto Kale, who returned the stare uncomfortably. His thin white hair was messy and stuck out in all directions which drew attention to his misshapen pointed ears, bent down at the middle. It reminded Kale of a wild dog he’d seen while hunting many years ago.
Neelan paused, ceasing all movement as she stared toward the stranger. “You are a dark elf. Would you happen to be Brig?”
“I do not know who she is!” The old elf spoke, as if answering his thoughts aloud. “You!” He pointed toward Kale, disregarding everything Neelan just said. He placed his face so close to the iron bars that Kale could feel his heavy breath. His crusted lips curled up, “I have been waiting for you—Firehart.”
Chapter 21: Malakhar’s Truth
The dark elf withdrew a tarnished key from within his brown satchel and inserted it into the side of the drainage gate. They watched as it effortlessly swung open which caused Kale to grumble beneath his breath.
Both Illadar and Kale assisted Neelan and Thomas through before quickly following. The drainage drop-off was moist and cold, dampening the front side of their clothing as they slid up onto the quiet street. Though the area was gloomy and deathly empty of life, Kale found it quite comforting—it reminded him of the home where he still longed to return, dark and secluded.
“Hurry, hurry. Quick, quick.” The dark elf urged them in the direction of a home with a brightly lit interior.
Unlike the homes they had seen earlier in the day, this one was very plain with heaps of clutter scattered around the outer walls. It appeared many of the items had not been used for years; some had begun to rust or decay. Kale also took note of the small pile to the side consisting of flasks and jars.
“Are you taking us inside this building?” Kale inquired suspiciously. They were unsure if this was truly the elven man they sought.
“Yes, I am certain it is him! Be silent, would you?” the man spoke over his shoulder to a vacant area where no one stood. “Ahem…” He looked toward Kale. “This is my home. Now let’s get inside before seen by the others!”
The four glanced cautiously toward one another before entering through the dingy, mildew-tinged door. The room appeared relatively normal, despite the misleading exterior. It was surprisingly clean with a wooden table and plush bed covered in a well-tailored, green comforter. The walls were nearly hidden by shelves stocked full of thick books.
“All right, you’ve gotten us inside—now, tell us who you are and how you know who I am.” Kale grew impatient with the dark elf’s elusive behavior.
“Tell them? Yes, yes, I suppose they already know.” He fumbled through a stack of parchment. “My name is Brig. Your name is Firehart.”
Kale sighed, rubbing his forehead. “Yes, I believe we have already established who I am. I’m thankful you are the one we have been trying to find.”
“Me too, me too—yes, yes.” Brig was constantly moving about, always appearing to occupy his fingers with a task. “Oh, I do believe that is a fine idea.” He once again spoke aloud as if someone were standing next to him, engaging in conversation. “Let us move below where it is safe from any possible interruptions.” Brig glanced around the room as if expecting to hear someone listening in. “Right this way, if you would please.” He led them over to a stone wall that held two flickering candles upon a small wooden shelf. Brig held his hand out, placing his bony fingers against the wood. “Lavora miyeche.” The stones suddenly began to shift, receding back and to the side, revealing a dark tunnel leading beneath the surface.
Kale began to feel confident that there was more to Brig than simply being an old kook.
“Move quickly, if you care to keep your limbs.” Brig replied to his own warning with maniacal, high-pitched laughter.
Kale caught a glimpse of Illadar who was reaching back to ensure his claymore was snug in place and ready if needed. Brig must make him nervous, Kale thought as they walked down into a circular room.
With a wave of Brig’s hand, the entire room illuminated with dozens of candles that flickered brightly. They could now see the many shelves filled with colorful flasks and vials. Beside a table awaited the exact amount of stools for each of them to sit.
“You knew we would come here—you were prepared for this,” Thomas spoke as he glanced around the room.
“I have already told them!” Brig scratched his floppy, left ear. “Yes, I have already told you I knew.” Suddenly, his face bore a very serious expression. “The red one came as I slept. The red one foretold me you would come Firehart—no, no, no,” he shook his head, “Kale.” His oval-shaped, hazy white eyes looked as though they were marbles in the candlelight.
“All right, I’ll assume you also know why we have come to you, then?” As Kale spoke, something Brig mentioned tugged at his curiosity. “And who is this red one you speak of?”
Brig burst into another fit of laughter as he began randomly skipping around the room. He pinched at his cloak on each side, lifting it slightly up as though he were a young child wearing a gown. For an elderly dark elf, he moved swiftly. “I do, I do, I do,” he sang in a high crackled voice.
“Enough with the games, old man,” Kale hissed impatiently. “Answer my questions. It’s very important we get the information we’ve come for.” Kale fought to control his frustration. He exhaled, “Please.”
“Oooo.” Brig puckered his dry lips. He then burst into rhyme, “The red one is so fierce and grand, a mighty beast indeed. Coming as I sleep at night to reveal the dragon breed.” His fingers walked up Kale’s back as he spoke.
Kale jumped away in disgust when the long, chipped fingernails met his neck. He was baffled at how Brig could possibly know the truth about him. What bothered him even more was that the dark elf still had not answered a single one of his questions. Kale rubbed his forehead. “You’re correct—I am a dragon. But this still does not tell me what we’ve come here for.” He wasn’t in the mood to conceal the truth when it was apparent Brig knew his situation.
Finally, Brig ceased his child-like behavior as he sat upon one of the wooden stools. “I will not discuss certain details of my dream with you.” His voice was defensive and final. “However, I can discuss you, black dragon. You are fascinating.” As Brig spoke, he shoved a yellowed fingernail into his ear which Kale could now see was filled with white hair. After a few twists of his wrist, the dark elf withdrew a firm chunk of ear wax and gently rolled it between his fingers. “There are two reasons why you have arrived here at my home tonight.”
Kale was aware of one—to find a cure for Judith’s curse; but the other struck no part of his memory. “I don’t understand,” Kale confessed.
“I think he is impatient too!” Brig spoke to the air.
Kale’s patience began to wear thinner than before as he angrily held a deep breath within his chest.
“What tempers dragons have.” Brig laughed as he read Kale’s expression. “We both are aware of the first reason you’ve come, so we will begin there.”
“Yes, I was hoping you may be able to provide us with information on how to remove the curse from Princess Judith.”
“All right, all right, I shall ask him, just be quiet!” Brig barked aloud to himself. “I know it may seem as though I am a very wise individual who holds a
ll of the answers—but I’m afraid I do not.”
“So, you can’t help us then?” Kale looked distraught, his jaw tightened.
“Shut up!” Brig waved his hand toward Kale’s face, “Not you, boy, not you.” He cleared his throat. “Where was I? Oh, yes,” His tongue ran across his chapped bottom lip, leaving a glossy film of saliva behind. “I believe I can be of assistance, however, I will in turn need your help as well. You must provide me with further information on this curse. Please share all you know as I am unaware of the details involving your friend’s issue.”
“Of course, I will give you more information; however, I am curious about something.” Kale rubbed his chin, “Why are you helping us? What motive could you possibly have to assist complete strangers?”
Brig laughed. “You dragons are so sly! I will admit, I do have an ulterior motive.” His wrinkled eyelids lowered. “As you may know, many of the dark elves are frowned upon within the kingdom. We live secluded within the slums of the city. The red one has assured me that if you reign victorious on your journey, a balance will be restored—it will allow our kind more opportunities for a real life within Ravondore.”
“I see.” Kale felt an overwhelming sense of relief. He had expected something far less practical from such a unique individual. “Well, if you know of the curse, then you must be aware it has been placed upon the Princess by a dark elf named Malakhar.” As Kale spoke the name, Brig’s foggy eyes grew wide.
“I was not aware of whom it was! That abomination still walks this earth?!” He leapt up from the stool, once again engaging in a bout of childish behavior as he slammed empty vials against the stone walls. As they collided, each glass piece shattered into thousands of tiny shards.
“What are you doin’? Stop before you hit one of us!” Illadar scolded.
“Enough already!” Kale held an arm up to shield his face as Brig smashed a vial next to where he sat.
Brig paused from his commotion. “Do you know who he is?”
“We know very little about him, which is why we’ve come so far to speak with you.” Kale felt as though they were once again looping in circles. “I only know he is a dark elf, and I am to avoid his touch by all means. Please explain more about this individual. Time is short, and I must find how to remove the curse.”
“Zipeee!” Brig momentarily ignored Kale as he flung another vial against the wall. “Stop acting foolish!” The dark elf scolded himself. “All right, Firehart, you’re going to need to know about him so I suppose I shall share. Malakhar was born long ago on Necron.” His voice sounded bitter as he spoke the name of the elven man in black. “Unlike the others of our kind, Malakhar came to this world frail, underweight, and colorless—some might even go as far to say deformed. Many wanted to feed him to the sea as a child, saying his appearance was that of a monstrosity. His parents, however, pleaded for him to remain and live amongst them. After a great debate, he was able to stay and as the years passed he grew in seclusion. His mother and father were rarely seen in town and kept their distance from the city. His only brother was ridiculed by the other young elves for defending him when cruel verbal accusations were made. They had been shamed by the others for their desire to keep the boy.” Brig shook his head.
“In time, as with most children, young Malakhar began to disobey his parents and break the rules. His behavior toward his mother and father lacked remorse. It was as though he cared for no living creature and would often lash out in fits of rage within his home for no apparent reason. He would often sneak off, despite his parents’ warnings, to explore the nearby towns and city. The others would laugh at his appearance and throw rocks at his body. Eventually, he could no longer handle their reaction and fled, not to be seen again by the townsfolk for quite some time. As Malakhar continued to grow, he became determined to rise above those who had wronged him and soon, his ability to memorize ancient writings surpassed that of even the dark elven council. Malakhar memorized nearly every powerful curse he could find and soon sought to master the dark art of Drell. He would often experiment with his malicious attempts at curses on the innocent small animals within the forest.” Brig sighed.
“Sensing a malicious aura growing within Malakhar, the council forbade him to study the magic, threatening to exile him should he try.” Brig fumbled with his thumbs as he spoke. “Quite honestly, I know this was because they were fearful—and had every reason to be!” He raised his pointer finger to the ceiling. “Malakhar had a strong lust for power and a record of disobedience. It was difficult to sympathize with such a cold hearted individual.” Brigs eyes gazed off to the side and he began to speak as though he were the only person still within the room.
“It was a chilling day upon that forsaken island when Malakhar’s brother took notice of his absence. Malakhar had been told not to leave the boundaries of his home, yet was nowhere to be found. His father was alerted and immediately took action. Upon further investigation of small clues left behind, his father was able to track his location. Malakhar had managed to make it unnoticed into the Elder’s Chamber—though, I cannot begin to imagine how he could have gotten inside. He was attempting to steal scrolls which held the most devastating spells of Drell. Malakhar was planning to kill us all. It broke his father’s heart, but Malakhar had to be stopped. His father managed to slip away unnoticed and contacted the elders immediately.” Brig paused a moment before continuing his story.
“The elder’s dispatched guards who wore enchanted armor impenetrable by Malakhar’s curses. They captured him before he could escape with the scrolls, locking him within a shielded cage for days without food or water for his crimes. Once he was weakened to the point where he no longer had the strength to lift himself, they placed his pallid, frail body within a small wooden vessel. On the base of this quaint boat was a hole just big enough to allow the water to constantly trickle in. He was then sent out to the mercy of the open sea—they intended for him to slowly wither and drown. Something, however, went wrong with their plan and he managed to make it completely across the sea, landing upon Ravondore—alive. This is when the human you call General Jedah found him. In return for rescuing Malakhar and aiding him in regaining health, a blood pact was placed into effect. Malakhar had no choice at the time and was bound to serve Jedah loyally until their agreement is fulfilled.”
“What’s a blood pact?” Illadar questioned as he hung on every word Brig spoke.
Neelan answered before Brig could speak, “It is a sacred oath that all elves must obey. Should an elf choose to enter such a contract—they are bound to follow through or shall perish to dust. The high elves believe this binding agreement is held in place by their Goddess Enya; the dark elves believe it is the wrath of their God, Botanar.”
“She is correct,” Brig continued as he resumed picking at his hairy ear. “You are here because you need to remove a curse Malakhar has placed—a very powerful one from what I’ve learned.” He inhaled, closing his eyelids.
Kale could hear him muttering softly to himself in the foreign words of Draxion, the language of dark elves. It sounded as though he was talking himself into making an important decision—yet again paying no mind that he was not alone within the room.
Brig sighed as he eventually sat upright. “To break the curse and return the Princess to her former self, you must…” he grabbed Kale’s tunic and pulled him directly in front of his creased face, “…kill him.”
Chapter 22: A Warning Arrives
Kale tugged at his hair in frustration. “So, now we must find Malakhar and kill him?”
“Correct,” Brig replied firmly.
“You’re telling me we have to place all hope in fate’s hand? I’m sure he has already begun his return to Jedah, to report our whereabouts.”
“I do not feel you need to worry about this. As I have said before, Malakhar seeks power. Though he obeys Jedah’s word for sake of his
pact, I strongly believe Malakhar has his own agenda.” Brig interlocked his bony fingers.
“Interesting.” Thomas rested his bearded chin upon his knuckles. “I do wonder how everything will fall into place.”
“We need to coordinate a plan of action as quickly as possible.” Illadar curled his ebony lips into his mouth, growing silent as he pondered the new circumstances.
The silence was disrupted by glass shattering as Brig hurled another vial against the wall.
“Why in Pan’s name do you keep doing that?!” Kale fought with his temper as he attempted to control an outburst due to the dark elf’s crude behavior.
“Listen here!” Brig shouted before tucking his chin against his chest while whispering to himself. “Shh!” He shivered. “Please, listen to me.” His voice was now calmed. “I need to speak with you, Firehart—it is of the utmost importance. I have made a promise to the red one. May we speak alone?” He motioned toward a small brown door between two of the long tables Kale had not noticed before.
“These are my friends.” Kale glanced toward the three. “They are the closest individuals I have to a family, so anything you can say to me can be said before them.”
“Very well. You have been assigned another quest. This task is one that must be completed by you; there can be no other.”
Kale laughed in anger. “You have some nerve to stand before me and tell me what I must do with my own life. I have been assigned to nothing—I choose my own path. I’m already in a situation where I cannot even fathom how we will succeed.”
