by Toni Cox
“Ah, so you are a man.” Kanarel taunted him. “And who will come for you when I kill you?”
Without answering, Blaid went on the attack. Kanarel’s sword was of the best craftsmanship and well balanced in his hand. He briefly noticed that the hilt was adorned with gems and bound with silver. Kanarel only just managed to parry the blow with his hunting knife, which jarred his arm, but the man knew how to fight. Even with his inferior weapon, Blaid had to apply all his knowledge to keep Kanarel at bay. He wondered where Kanarel had learned such swordsmanship or how he managed to keep up his strength. They clashed blades for what seemed like eons and when Kanarel showed no signs of faltering, Blaid changed his tactics. Fighting amongst Elves with magic was dishonourable, but for this man he would make an exception; he was as vile as the Vampyres he served. He did not want to kill the man right away; he wanted some answers first; so he did not use lethal force. With a quick mental flick, he flung some dust into Kanarel’s eyes. The man staggered back, but then caught himself.
“Is that how it is going to be then?” he rasped, his throat choked with dust. “I, too, can play that game.”
Before Blaid could react, Kanarel shoved his hands out towards him and Blaid felt the air hit him with a force that took his breath away. He almost dropped the sword; he had not expected Kanarel to know how to use his magic for fighting. It was time for Blaid to stop being nice.
He conjured up a fireball and flung it at Kanarel. The man dodged it, but Blaid was already flinging another. Using his Air, Kanarel managed to deflect most of the fireballs flung at him, but some of them found their mark. Soon Kanarel’s clothing hung in tatters and patches of his skin were burnt. Blaid watched as Kanarel tried to conjure up his own fireballs, but each time the flame within his palm fluttered out again. Air was definitely his stronger power. Blaid kept firing the fireballs mercilessly until he felt Kanarel weakening. Then, just when he thought the man would falter, Blaid felt a pressure within his mind.
“I am no animal you can control, Kanarel. Your mind tricks will not work on me.”
Kanarel shouted something at him that sounded like Nayleran and then ran at him with a scream, his hunting knife held out in front of him like a lance. Blaid, knowing that this was one last, desperate attempt at defending himself, decided to end it. When Kanarel was only a stride away, Blaid leapt high into the air and flipped over Kanarel’s head. Kanarel’s momentum carried him forward another two steps, before he realised that Blaid was no longer in front of him, but by then it was too late. Blaid grabbed him from behind and held his sword to his throat.
“Enough,” he shouted at the man, putting all the force of his Prime behind the word.
Kanarel immediately went limp within his hold; there was no more fight in him.
“What do you want? Why don’t you just kill me?”
“I want to know everything,” Blaid said as he dragged Kanarel to the nearest tree.
“I have nothing to say.”
“You will,” Blaid answered as he used his Earth magic to tie Kanarel to the tree with its branches.
With Kanarel secured, Blaid laid aside both weapons and then searched through Kanarel’s meager belongings. It looked like the man had left in a hurry, as he only carried a small pack. It contained a black cloak with a hood, which Blaid now threw over his naked body. It was too far to retrieve his own clothes now; he could pick them up when he was done here. The cloak was of a fine and light material that was soft against his skin and surprisingly warm. Again, he wondered why someone who had everything in life, could possible want to destroy it all. No one among Elves ever went hungry or without, but the nobles did lead a much richer life than most others did and the Swiftfishers were the most influential family in Braérn. What had driven this man to betray his own kind?
“Why?” he asked as he turned back to Kanarel.
The man looked up at him in disgust.
“Why what?”
“Why would you betray your own people? What do you have to gain from it?”
“Everything I have done was for the good of our people,” Kanarel spat at him.
“How is killing thousands of Elves good for our people?”
“You should be happy, Death. Do you not gain strength with the number of people you help into the next world?”
Clenching his jaw, Blaid closed the distance between them and then put his foot on one of Kanarel’s burn wounds. The man screamed in pain.
“The affairs of Primes are of no concern to you,” he hissed. “Every Elf is precious and life must be preserved at all cost.”
“Ha, that is rich coming from you. I know about the Elves you have already killed.”
Blaid hesitated only for a moment; there was no way Kanarel could already know about the carnage he had left behind at Stoneloft.
“The Elves I killed were all working for you, were they not? They were traitors just like you.”
“Traitors? We are working for the advancement of the Elven race. And it was you, who put me in power. Last year you killed my predecessor during the time that our princess,” he spat the word, “was visiting Braérn. Had it not been for you, I might even now be married to her and I could have been Lord Regent of Grildor without the war.”
Blaid blinked a few times, trying to understand what Kanarel was saying. He remembered the Elf in Braérn, but he had not killed him. He had reeked of Vampyre, but when he had tried to question him about it, the man had taken his own life. The thing that puzzled him though, was that Kanarel honestly thought that Maia would have married him. Even if she had, that would not have made Kanarel Lord Regent.
“You want to rule?” he asked dryly.
“I want change. For all of us. Elves have stagnated into this old-fashioned rut of a life. We are still doing things the way they were done ten thousand years ago. We have no currency, no industry, no machinery. Other planets are so much more advanced than we are and we are being left behind.”
Kanarel’s voice was dripping with disdain and Blaid looked down at him with disgust.
“So why involve the Vampyres?” Blaid asked.
“Because they can give me what I want and I have exactly what they need.”
“What do you want?”
“Power. Power to change our world for the better. Don’t you see? Elveron is going to die unless we bring ourselves out of this old way of life and bring in something new. We need to take this planet to a new level, advance ourselves and become the great people we deserve to be.” Kanarel spoke with fervour.
“And you think by letting the Vampyres devour half our people you will achieve that?”
“Bah,” Kanarel spat, “they are a means to an end. They will see me into power and in return, we will provide them with food, clothing and all the raw materials they need. It is a simple business transaction. If they eat a few people in the process, then so be it.”
Blaid thought he could not hate a person more than he hated Kanarel right at that moment. Every man had different ambitions, that he understood, but Kanarel’s twisted plans for the future and his nonchalance towards the costs involved of achieving them, was more than Blaid could take.
“You know you are not leaving here alive,” he hissed at him.
“It matters little,” Kanarel said. “There are others who will take my place. There are more that hunger for advancement than you might imagine.”
“You mean the ones in the stronghold? They are already dead.”
Blaid saw Kanarel’s eyes widen in shock for a brief moment, but then he was calm again.
“They were but a few. Once the Vampyres overpower Lord Longshadow’s armies, the others will come into power.”
Kneeling next to Kanarel, Blaid squeezed his hand over the deep bite mark on Kanarel’s shoulder. The man hissed in pain.
“And when will that happen? When is the Vampyre army supposed to come through?”
When Kanarel did not answer, Blaid squeezed harder, blood now dripping between his fingers.
“You are too late, Death,” he whispered and Blaid leant in closer to hear him. “It has already begun. There is nothing you can do to stop it now.”
The moment Kanarel had finished speaking he head butted Blaid, splitting his forehead. Blaid reeled from the shock and felt his warm blood trickle down over his left eye. While he was trying to recover, Kanarel freed himself from the branches of the tree and raced over to his weapons. Blaid stood, wiping the blood out of his eye and then crouched into a defensive position. Air, Fire, and Earth, plus the ability to communicate with animals; Kanarel was truly a foe to be reckoned with.
“Good bye, Death,” Kanarel said as he grabbed his pack and the air began to shimmer in front of him.
After everything he had learned from Kanarel, Blaid could not let him get away. The man had to die, Elf or not, and the time for that was now. He thought about all the Elves that had already died, about the ones that were about to die and the ones that had betrayed their own kind to make it all happen. Suddenly a fire raged within him that burned stronger than the sun. His body began to quiver and although the feeling felt like it lasted for hours, he changed into the wolf within but a fraction of a moment and then launched himself at the spot where Kanarel’s air was still shimmering.
Caught up in Kanarel’s Air magic he was not able to see himself and he was guided by pure instinct. In mid jump, he made a small correction and when he eventually sank his teeth into flesh, it was on Kanarel’s throat. He felt the hot, sweet blood flow between his teeth and felt the wind from Kanarel’s lungs rush past his face. Biting down harder, he held on while Kanarel struggled. Weaker and weaker the struggles became until eventually the man hung limp between his teeth. Disgusted by the taste of Elf in his mouth he let go and Kanarel’s body flopped lifelessly to the ground.
Kanarel’s magic had died with him and they were now both visible again, sprawled amid Kanarel’s campsite. Blaid changed back and searched for Kanarel’s water canteen to wash out his mouth. Then he looked for the cloak, but it had torn when he had changed into the wolf. Naked, he proceeded to drag Kanarel out of the open and under some brush. The wolves would find him, or the ravens; it was more than he deserved.
He grabbed Kanarel’s pack and slung it across his shoulder. He picked up the sword and the knife and then headed back towards his own camp. He needed to hurry now. If what Kanarel had said was true, then the war had already begun. He hoped he was wrong. Even with shadow travelling, it would take him two to three days to get to Shadow Hall and that was with minimal rest.
He reached his camp and found his clothes where he had stashed them beside the cliffs. Quickly he changed, then repacked the bags so he would only have to carry one and then attached the extra weapons to the back of it. He hated to have to carry them while he was shadow travelling, but he needed them to trade with.
He erased all signs from the land that he had been there and then channelled his energy. He pictured the road ahead; the Trade Route was well marked here and he had travelled it before. He was still tired from the fight and he had not eaten, but he should still be able to reach the harbour within an hour or so. Everything now depended on him getting to Shadow Hall as soon as possible; he had to warn Lord Longshadow.
I hope I am not too late, he thought as his form dissolved into shadow.
She woke slowly; every fibre of her body hurt and there was a pain in her heart that, for a moment, she could not explain. Then tears flooded her eyes as she remembered Riker’s broken, dead body lying in her arms. Angrily she wiped the tears away. Kanarel would pay for what he had done.
As she looked around she noticed that she was lying under a make-shift shelter and only a little sunlight was filtering through the opening. She moaned as she sat up and immediately the flap of the opening was drawn back and Rothea’s head appeared.
“Good morning, My Lady,” she smiled at her. “It is good to see you awake. How are you feeling?”
“Sore,” Maia answered tiredly. “But I will be all right. Was I asleep for long?”
“Only a little longer than us,” Rothea replied. “But I think we might all have slept for about a day or so. Midnight had to watch over us.”
“How is he?” Maia asked as she climbed out of the opening.
Rothea did not need to answer. Midnight lay alert in front of her make-shift shelter, watching her emerge. She immediately went to him and leant against his muzzle. The emotions that passed between them were complicated, yet simple at the same time.
“Ah, our princess arises,” Jaik said behind her, Wolf at his heels.
Maia turned and he took her in his arms.
“I am sorry I had to put you all through this. Thank you,” she said to him, absently scratching Wolf behind his ear. “How is everyone?”
“They are all rested now and none have suffered lasting damage. Even the horses are back on their feet, but we have taken them over the hill to graze as they are still wary of Midnight. He has not left your side and I dare say he looked after all of us while we were resting.”
“How so?” Maia asked as she gratefully took a cup of tea Rothea brought her.
“There were some wolves around during the night and even the horses had enough sense to stay close to Midnight. Once the sun came up the horses then drifted away and Midnight spread his wings over us so that we might not burn. We all woke around noon and then erected the shelter around you. We have sent a message to Father to let him know what happened and that we will return home as soon as you awake. Are you all right to travel now, or would you prefer to wait till the morning?”
Maia considered the sun for a moment; it was already mid afternoon and they probably only had another three or four hours of travel time, but she wanted to leave this place. She glanced over to where she could still see the fallen dragon and she shuddered. Of Riker, she saw nothing and she assumed that Jaik had probably sent his body back to Shadow Hall with one of his men. She did not want to think about it.
“I think it best that we be on our way immediately.”
Jaik seemed to know what she was thinking and held her tight for a moment longer.
“All right, I will gather my men.”
Quickly Maia and Rothea packed up the make-shift shelter and then extinguished the fire which Rothea had used to make the tea. Midnight walked away a distance and then flapped his wings experimentally a few times and then took to the air. Maia felt his joy as he soared into the sky and she was glad that they had been able to mend his wings.
Soon the men came with the horses and they all mounted. The horses were still skittish around the dead dragon, but Maia also felt defiance from them. Having been linked to Midnight, he might have shared with them his victory over the white one and, as Fire snorted loudly as they rode past, she knew it was so.
They made camp in a small wood that night and were on their way again as soon as the sun crested the eastern horizon. Maia was in a hurry to get home and everyone felt the same. They rested only when the horses needed to drink and another day later they rode over the Grazing Grounds to the stables.
Maia was desperate for a shower; her clothes were soiled with Riker’s and Midnight’s blood and, although she had tried to wash most of it out, her skin and hair were covered in it as well. She imagined she was quite a sight and she could even smell herself. The others did not look or smell any better. It had been a terrible few days and she was glad to be home.
Once they had packed away their tack and stabled their horses, they took The Ascent, the path that led to the city. It wasn’t long before the news spread that they were back and Maia was not surprised to see Silas hurry up the steps to meet them as they stepped onto Loft Run, the highest of the three main aerial walkways of their city.
“I am glad that you made it back so soon,” he greeted them and gave Maia a brief hug.
“We left as soon as we could,” Jaik replied.
“I am afraid I have dire news,” Silas continued. “Once you have refreshed yourselves please meet us at t
he Hall of the Guardians as soon as you can.”
“Yes, Silas,” Maia and Jaik replied.
Silas turned and hurried down the steps before them. They followed at a somewhat slower pace and Jaik ordered his men to go home and rest, except for Archer, who was to report to the Hall of the Guardians with them.
“I wonder what is happening,” Maia said as they stepped into their home; she did not think she could handle any more bad news.
“I am sure we will find out soon enough, but it does not sound good,” Jaik replied.
Half an hour later they were all ready to go. It was almost dark by the time they crossed the Gathering Grounds and all around the city lanterns were being lit. Even in their hurry, Maia did not fail to notice the beauty of their city. This was what they were fighting for; this was what they were protecting.
They entered their father’s study and found some Commanders and Silas already assembled. Even the Commanders from Thala Yll were present and Maia wondered if their dragons were currently roosting on The Crags. A quick mental link with Midnight confirmed that The Crags were crowded with Battle Dragons, all in full armour; they must have just arrived.
“Good,” her father said, “now that every one is present, we can continue.”
Quickly Jaik and Maia took their seats while Archer and Rothea took their places by the door.
“Most of the armies have now arrived and are assembled around Greystone,” her father said. “Unfortunate news has reached us from Tarron Heights. Vampyres have been spotted in their area and Lord Tallson has withdrawn some of his men to return home to protect their city. At first, we thought this to be an isolated incident, but this morning we received another message that Dragonfort was under attack. At noon, a bird arrived carrying news that Rathaés was besieged by a large force of Vampyres.”
Maia gasped and looked towards Silas, who simply nodded to her.
“We have been in discussions all afternoon and we are now of the opinion that the Vampyres had planned to draw our armies away from the cities, so that they might attack the cities. We are unsure of their numbers and around which cities they have stationed themselves, but we assume that all cities within Grildor are in danger. Most Lords have requested their Commanders to return with their army to protect their cities, but that would leave Greystone undefended should a Vampyre army still come through the Gate.”
