Mystic Faerie War

by James Day

  “I never knew what love was,” she replied as they went over to the ale and poured more glasses. They clinked glasses and drank again. He turned around and straightened himself out as he looked at the scrolls.

  “Promise me you’ll keep a secret,” he whispered in her ear.

  “You have my word,” she acknowledged grasping his shoulder. “As She-Elf Warrior I promise that what you say will remain only with me.”

  “I may know where the Dragons are,” his face smirked for a moment and he went to the map and pointed.

  “The Northlands, the Western Northlands,” she said studying the map. “I’ve seen this in my studies. It is a rocky mountainous region impregnable. There is no way to get to them.”

  “Yes, and there are thousands of caves, and unexplored valley’s with plenty of wildlife for them to forage.”

  “Why have you sworn me to secrecy on something that may destroy the Elven Kingdom?” she put her hands on her hips.

  “Because I believe in the Mystic Dayven and the Mystic Dunnganon. These dragons are free, they have been free for three centuries and have never breached the Kingdom or killed anything. They are a myth. I believe they have kept their word and if we send the Elven Hunters to destroy them then they will wage war on us.”

  “You seem to care for these creatures,” she sat on the table while pushing some of the scrolls to the side. He leaned into her with starry blue eyes that were magnetized by her appeal.

  “I do because they are part of Elven History. The Fae rode them, and the Elves were the first to speak with them. They are intelligent creatures. We gave Humankind the Fire Amulet, the ability for man to speak with them. But we did imprison them and cast them out. We betrayed them and forced them into their own realm. And I will banish them again with magic if the need arises.”

  “So, you are looking after the Elven Kingdom and the Dragons. You just want to make sound decisions concerning the creatures.”

  “Yes, before we rush in to destroy them, maybe the Mystics can locate them Perhaps, they will help us when the time comes.”

  Unknown to them, a red Silverthread fluttered between the bookshelves moving in circles and darting back and forth. It had been in the room the whole time flittering around and under the table, between the shelves and landing on the windowsill. The She-Elf and Spellmaker did not see it as they continued to talk and enjoy one another’s company. Then the red Silverthread saw a crack just by the windowpane and fluttered out of it silently and unnoticed by Spellmaker or Shydrie. It spiraled down against the brick walls and ledges to the room of the Mystics. There is probed a way to get in, but there was none. It would have to find another way to spy on them. It was an evil Fae, a small minuscule creature stealing the secrets to bring back to the one who had sent them forth.

  An hour passed as Llyendrie and Shydrie thumbed through texts, scrolls, and maps. There were dozens of spells and incantations, some very ancient that had not been used in centuries. The Spellmaker memorized some of them as best as he could. Shydrie continued looking for information, anything to help the cause. She also enjoyed doing his work, it was a change from training Elven Warriors and fighting in combat to train an army. She liked this part of it, studying brought her some peace against a hectic day. As the night continued on, the candle began burning down and Llyendrie yawned from exhaustion.

  “I must find something to tell the King and Queen. I must find the truth about the Faeriestones. They may be able to save us. Even one stone could change the war.”

  “What is the most powerful Faeriestone?” she wondered.

  “The Red Faeriestone, it controls fire. If we can find it then we have a chance against the Dragons. Wait a moment, I believe I found something about the stone.”

  Shydrie became excited as her heart beat faster.

  “I believe it was hidden in Fire Rock Crater,” the Spellmaker said with a great smile holding up the map. “We have found something that we can give to the King and Queen. But we must keep the silent about the Dragons.”

  “So, you want to commit treason and lie to the King and Queen?”

  “It’s not treason if they don’t know,” his face lifted as he was done with his studies. Exhaustion overtook him as he put his head back against the wooden chair and rested it. Then he fell asleep. Shydrie took a blanket that was in the back and placed it over his frame as the Spellmaker made a kind of whistle in his sleep. She went to the door and sat on the floor and just stared at him. She would keep watch all night long until morning, then she would be relieved, and she would get a few hours of sleep.

  At noon, Shydrie returned to the Spellmakers, Llyendrie’s room to escort him and the Mystics to the Eleven Council. Mystic Dayven and Mystic Dunnganon were accompanied from their rooms the chambers below. They marched down the hallways and passed station Elven Sentries who stood guard like cold dead statues, not moving an inch. They were trained to be perfectly still, but also be aware of anything that might pose a danger to the castle of Fallsridge. They finally reached the chamber room where they were escorted in and doors closed with a thump.

  “Your Majesty’s, Elven Council, Mystic and She-Elf Warrior Shydrie. I have found out the possible location of the Red Faeriestone. It may be hidden somewhere in bowels of Fire Rock Crater.”

  Murmurs went out throughout the room as the council members spoke amongst themselves then the King raised his hand to silence them all.

  “Members of this Council,” he said quietly. “First, I would like to apologize the way I treated the Mystics yesterday. I am terribly sorry. Secondly, Fire Rock Crater was destroyed when the Crimson Fire Dragon rose, and the Hearthstone Sword was returned to fulfill the Promise. If the Faeriestone was there it may have been destroyed.”

  Mystic Dayven stepped forward and took control of the meeting.

  “That may not be true,” he spoke. “The six Faeriestones were hidden throughout the Kingdom. The Spellmakers put protective spells on them for protection. “The Red Faeriestone is a stone of fire, it may have survived the cataclysmic events that occurred on that day. There are five other Faeriestones, the blue stone which controls the elements of water. The gold stone which controls the elements of the earth. The white stone which controls the elements of the wind. The green stone which controls the animals and all wildlife that roam the lands.”

  Dunnganon interrupted and stood next to him, “And the Red Bloodstone that controls the heart. The Book of Power says that the magic subverts what the heart truly longs for. It knows what is truly hidden in someone’s heart. These stones must be found.”

  “I disagree Mystic,” Llyendrie said honestly. “To find those stones may bring total destruction to the Six Providences. Just one can wreak havoc on the Elven Kingdom. If it were to fall into the wrong hands then we may not be able to win the war.”

  “Duly noted,” Spellmaker, but I disagree. We must find them. A war is coming, and we must have them at our disposal. We now know the possible location of the Red Faeriestone and that may be enough to fight the dragons when the rise from the Dark Fae. We also need the Hearthstone Sword which I must go back for.”

  “But it was returned, can that be undone?” The King questioned him.

  “Yes, it will be given freely. But I would like to ask assistance of the Spellmakers,” the Mystic Dayven continued. “Shannon needs a talisman made from the Eleven Kingdom, a Sword of Shannon, I propose. It will be used to defend the Six Providences and the Kingdom of Shannon. It will also be used to defend the Elven Kingdom if need be.”

  “We can send a few Spellmakers to Shannon,” he said with a glint in his eyes. “A Sword of Shannon can be forged with the powers of the Spellmakers and powers of the Mystic. It might be enough to defend the Kingdom. This gift, I can give to you. But know this Mystic, we are the heirs of the Faeriestones, and they belong to the Elven Kingdom. We want them back if they are to be found. We will assist in forging your weapon in return of the Faeriestones. Is that clear?”

  “Yes, your M
ajesty,” Mystic Dayven bowed as Queen Ellandree stood up and walked over to the Spellmaker. “What of the dragons? Have you found anything else about them? Do you know where they are?” Have you located the Mystic Pelt?”

  “No,” Llyendrie said carefully, his eyes turning away. The Queen stared at him for a moment and sat back down in her chair. She bowed her head with a stern face.

  “Good, then it is settled,” the Queen continued. “You will go to Shannon and Shydrie will escort you as your protector. Is that understood Shydrie?”

  “Yes, your Highness,” the She-Elf Warrior said looking at her with some fortitude. “I will protect him at all costs.”

  “Excellent, then your quest to Fire Rock Crater will commence,” the Queen spoke directly to all of them. “Right after the sword is forged, you will go and retrieve the Hearthstone Sword and Red Faeriestone. Our army will keep watch over Fallsridge and Elvengrove Forests. We shall deal with any creature the Dark Fae bring forth. This meeting is adjourned,” she clapped her hands, and everyone disbanded.

  They met at the stables with horses and five Spellmakers were to accompany them with five Elven Knights. No one said a word as they prepared for the journey to the Kingdom of Shannon. The stable Boy-Elves saddled the horses and gave them fresh supplies. The weapons were tied to their belts as the Boy-Mystic Dunnganon took Mystic Dayven aside in secrecy.

  “We cannot trust the Elves. The She-Elf Warrior and Spellmaker have lied to their Queen. I think they know more than what they are telling us.”

  “Queen Ellandree knows,” she is not stupid. “She sees something in them that we have only yet to discover,” Dunnganon jumped onto his horse.

  Everyone mounted and they charged out of the stables.

  They were on their way to Shannon to forge the Sword of Shannon.

  FOUR

  The Mystic Dayven and Dunnganon led the procession through the timberlands on the dirt road. The Elven Knights picked one Spellmaker to protect. Shydrie and Llyendrie kept silent as the horses galloped forward. They were approaching the forests of the Kingdom from the west. The castle had not come into view because the huge oaks blighted out the sky with their green canopies. Wildflowers grew in the fields and huge ferns grew throughout the valleys. Thickets and large bushes were on the sides of the roads. The sun was setting, and it was becoming dusk as they galloped on. Finally, the Mystics decided that it was good time stop and rest the horses since they had been running all day. It was time to feed them and have a quick meal. The campfires went up quickly as the Elven Knights stood guard like solitary figures, not flinching, but always watching. They were well protected in armor. The She-Elf Warrior and Spellmaker Llyendrie ate together as each Spellmaker ate bread and cheese. Some dried meats were cooked and roasted to make them warm. Dayven and Dunnganon ate apart from the group, always watching the timberlands. Then the Mystic Dayven saw red Silverthreads coming from Fae Mounds and he stopped chewing alerted the Elven Knights.

  “Stand watch, something is going to occur,” he said in a stern voice holding the Staff of Power. Then something flashed as movement went throughout the forest. The She-Elf Warrior unsheathed her broadsword and took a stance. Suddenly one Elven Knight was flung as the Spellmaker named Hickory exploded a green fire from his hands. It struck the Fire Imp sending it rolling as he moved to another Elven Knight for protection. The five Spellmakers gathered in a circle back to back. The Fire Imps came out in droves, at least fifteen of them. They moved with sudden speed, circling the caravan, ready to strike. An Elven Knight was pulled back and flipped away as he screamed in the dark, red fire exploded onto him from twenty feet away.

  Dayven and Dunnganon laced blue fire at three Fire Imps as they were caught up in the blaze. The mini monsters were thrown into the ground but recovered from their injuries and bolted away.

  Shydrie heard one as she twisted her sword and chopped the head off of one that attempted to land on her. She spun around to the side of Llyendrie who let out a wall of green fire as another Fire Imp jumped through it and attempted to land on him. The Elven Knight and She-Elf Warrior sung their blades; the body was cut in two as a head rolled away.

  “Stand together,” Mystic Dayven ordered the remaining survivors. “They will not stop until we are all dead.” Then a Fire Imp attacked from the side as the Mystic turned lacing blue fire into the creature, turning it to ash.

  Dunnganon moved forward as he watched three run around and come in for the charge. He raised his hands and Mystic fire exploded into them, tossing their broken bodies which burned in flames.

  Shydrie turned and arched her body swinging the sword to protect an Elven Knight that was to slow. The Knight disappeared into the night screaming then red fire could be seen. There were five Fire Imps dancing around the burning body.

  There were two Elven Knights ready as they took a stance near the five Spellmakers. The three Fire Imps leapt at the group, flames exploding from their claws. Two of Knights were caught as they died instantly, but the Spellmakers turned their power and caught the three turning them to ash with their Elven magic.

  “There’s still seven Fire Imps out there,” Shydrie sounded the alarm as two went to pounce on her. She ducked, sliced the head off one and rolled. The other Fire Imp landed on her sword as she lay on her back thrusting it upward.

  The remaining five Fire Imps retraced their steps in the dark forest as Dayven and Dunnganon stepped away from the group. They were going to act as bait.

  Then the five Fire Imps attacked. Dayven sent Mystic blue fire as they dodged his wall of flames like he planned. They ran right into Dunnganon’s white-hot flames as three were incinerated. The two remaining Fire Imps went directly for Spellmaker Llyendrie. He let out a wall of flame as the Fire Imp burned and fell to the ground dead. The other went to turn but the fast acting She-Elf Warrior met it with her broadsword slicing the stomach open. It screamed with a death cry and collapsed.

  The six Spellmakers regrouped as Shydrie held her sword ready for another attack.

  “They have been defeated,” Mystic Dayven said to her. “You can put away your sword.” Dunnganon made his way over to the She-Elf Warrior and attempted to calm her down. She held her battle stance, eyes peering into the dark forest. Llyendrie came over to her and gave her a nod.

  “They’re dead. You have done well defending us.”

  Shydrie put the sword back into its sheath and said nothing to them. She crouched with her hand on the hilt of the sword. “All of the Elven Knights are dead,” she whispered.

  “We destroyed the pack,” Mystic Dayven retreated and gathered up the Spellmakers and all of the horses. “Shannon is just a few leagues away. This was no coincidence. The red Silverthreads came out and they attacked. It seems that they have a master whose will they are following. We must stay together; I fear something more powerful will be released to destroy this company. Let us ride.”

  And with those words, they entered into the Kingdom of Shannon.

  The company arrived at Shannon and were shown to their quarters. Prince Grandur and Princess Noleann Bounty Huntress were told of the defeat of the Fire Imps. King Grandur, and Prince Alec heard the amazing story as Shydrie kept an eye on Llyendrie. She remained quiet as Dayven and Dunnganon explained their plan.

  “Light the forges and call on your best blacksmith’s,” he said. “We shall make a sword to protect the Kingdom of Shannon. It will be the Sword of Shannon bequeathed by the Elves to us in return of the Faeriestones. We will form a party of guards and begin our journey back to Fire Rock Crater.”

  Prince Grandur and Prince Alec thanked the Spellmakers and the She-Elf Warrior. They then explained how they saw the shade of Flint and discussed the Faerie War. Prince Grandur and Princess Noleann sat and listened concerning the Dragon Mystic Pelt who had not been seen for three centuries since the end of the Zandu War. Now the couples questions were answered, but they remained fearful concerning their daughter. Guards were kept at her quarters inside and out. Nothing could penetrat
e all of the sentries. The Spellmaker Llyendrie kept a watchful eye for any red Silverthreads, spies of some Dark Fae Master that wanted to destroy the lands.

  Noleann was told that she would have to participate in transferring the magic into the sword to make it impenetrable to faerie attack. She did not like the idea of using the Mystic blood fire but realized she did not have a choice in the matter. The very Kingdom and the Six Providences were all in danger. They showed the band of travelers the severed head of the Fire Imp which Dayven and Dunnganon confirmed. One had to be an extremely good swordsman to defeat one or two, but packs of them were a different story. Noleann had decided that she would need the best to go on the journey to Fire Rock Crater to retrieve the ancient Hearthstone Sword.

  The blacksmith’s used the perfect steel for the blade, heated it and cooled it while pounding it out, shaping it. All evening they worked furiously, in red fire pits as smoke rose from the outhouse. The Spellmakers were out near the home chanting spells and humming elven songs in their own language. Green fire lanced into their hands as Dayven and Dunnganon joined the Spellmakers quietly watching them. The Bounty Huntress stood by as Prince Grandur tried to keep her calm. She decided that she needed more help than the Kingdom of Shannon could offer. She told Prince Grandur that she had sent word to Galway for three of the finest assassins in the Kingdom to join them. Since the Reunion Wars the Galway Inn in which she grew up in had been rebuilt. The ale house did trade with the Silver Gypsies and those who were sent on missions. She had left that life when she married Prince Grandur and had her daughter, but she kept in touch with them through messages. Only once, did she return, and the Inn which had been rebuilt like it originally stood when she an O’Dea had owned it. She thought about him, Dunnganon said he was alive and had become an assassin Mystic, but he never materialized, and she gave up on a reunion.