The Adventures of Theophilus Thistle

by David Partelow

  Marshal Shen still was little moved. “It’s because of this and the favor you hold with the bulk of our force that you are not in shackles right now, Shael. Yet your defiance still calls for consideration with the Council of Five to decide your fate,” he said.

  Captain Shael turned from Shen before walking away. “Then I will see you at my hearing where I will stand proudly for those that fought against evil and for those that were saved by such actions,” he said.

  “The council has already voted, captain.”

  Captain Shael stopped at this, slowly turning to face the grand marshal once again. “This is a first then,” he observed. “A judgment without trial and a vote without consideration of the accused.”

  Marshal Shen shrugged indifferently to these words. “Considering who we render such a judgement upon, it seemed fitting. The council needed to decide such a matter without outside interference or bias, for the good of all Rangers,” he said.

  “I see,” said Captain Shael. “Then it appears that the rules and order that you speak so adamantly for are simply in fact a mere convenience.”

  “Sometimes the ends must justify the means, captain. You of all people know that. As always, the council is divided in their consideration of you, as much as I loathe to see it,” said Marshal Shen before pausing a moment and truly fixing his gaze upon the captain. “But this time the favor has shifted. The judgement is against you at last.”

  Captain Shael stiffened. He realized that such a day could come, but now that it was here, the gravity of that struck him deeply. “Then my tenure as a Ranger is no more,” he observed.

  Marshal Shen nodded. “Effective immediately. Captain Shael, you are stripped of your rank and position and hereby banished from the order of the Rangers.”

  Captain lowered his head, accepting the judgement and letting the words sink in fully. The decree was painful on many levels, mainly for the revelations it conjured. “And just like that, one journey ends and another one begins,” he offered.

  “This is simply a byproduct of your actions. It is you who chose to deface your reputation with insubordination,” said Marshal Shen.

  Corym Shael shook his head. “No, grand marshal, for despite your elf eyes you do not see the entire picture yet. This goes further than my termination from the Rangers. In it is an evil. One day you will see it, and that day it will be too late for you to hold anything other than regret. We are defenders of the light, but sometimes we must fight darkness with the shadows. Your reluctance to see that fully has debilitated you,” he said.

  Marshal Shen stood unflinching. “Gather your things, Shael. I would ask you to leave with your dignity intact while you still can,” he said.

  Reaching for his bow and quiver, Captain Shael removed them from his back before presenting them to the Marshal. “This is my bow. This is my quiver. Both are gifts bestowed upon me by the order to fight against darkness and tyranny,” he said before dropping them upon the ground. “And now, both have been stripped of their meaning.” Before Marshal Shen could respond, Captain Shael procured his blade. “And this is my sword, passed down to me from my father. You shall only have this by prying it from my lifeless hands. For it shall continue to fulfill its purpose, whether I am deemed a Ranger or not,” he added before turning to leave the chamber.

  “It does not have to end like this, Shael, with bitterness and rancor,” said Grand Marshal Shen.

  Captain Shael paused briefly, looking over his shoulder. “Yes. Yes, it does,” he said as regarded the marshal one last time. “A day will come. It will be a day of darkness for which you will be unable to repel with the light. And on that day, despite your greatest objections, you will call for me. Mark my words, for both of us know this to be true. Farewell, Marshal Shen.” Corym Shael then parted swiftly out the door.

  Walking the hallways of Aelyn Keep one last time, Corym observed its features from the corner of his eyes. For years it had been his home and for years he had dedicated himself to its purpose and ideals. The elf had sacrificed much for the greater good, including pieces of his heart and soul. And now it was all for nothing, for those that he fought and bled with had turned their back on him.

  This was his home, and now it was his home no longer.

  “Corym,” said a voice full of pain and pride.

  Corym paused, closing his eyes. The sound of the voice, while often was a balm for his soul now wrenched through him with grim discourse. “Valena,” he breathed before turning to face here.

  There watching him was Valena Swiftnight. The marshal and member of the Council of Five looked upon him with grief in her eyes. Corym remembered finding solace in her gaze and peace in her crimson, majestic hair. Now such things were hallowed, and the revelation pained him further.

  Corym cleared his throat as he addressed her. “Marshal Swiftnight,” he said, devoid of all but formality.

  “I am sorry,” she said mournfully. “I am sorry that the battle for you was lost.”

  Corym nodded. “You mourn for me and this loss?” he asked.

  “With all my heart,” said Marshal Swiftnight.

  “Even when it was you who decreed it so?”

  Marshal Swiftnight was jarred by his words. “Corym, what are you saying?”

  Corym shook his head. “Valena, you have endured in my heart as more than just a fellow Ranger. I know full well you have been the deciding vote and the reason I have remained a Ranger for so long. And if you have cast a vote against me it reveals something I have greatly feared for some time now,” he admitted freely.

  “What are you getting at, Corym?” she asked.

  Corym breathed a painful breath before speaking. “I had long suspected that the council had been corrupted, that one was influenced against the order for reasons unknown. I simply never thought or wanted to believe that it was you,” he said.

  “After all that we have endured. After all that we have been through, how could you even consider such a thing?” she asked.

  Corym Shael clenched his fists, fighting at the pain rising within him. “Because I never did before this day. I was blinded by my feelings for you, my belief that your commitment to the cause was absolute. Today I have learned otherwise. I do not know what has influenced your actions, but my defiance has now become a threat to it and for this I am cast out at last,” he said.

  The pain in Valena’s eyes was undeniable. “Why would you say such things to me?” she choked.

  Captain Shael looked at her with unrestrained intensity as a well of emotions befuddled him. “Because they are true. And you have merely confirmed them now with your pain. At any other time in our past you would have struck me for such an accusation. But it is the truth and the truth has placed me in the path of a darker agenda. And for now, I am a merely a casualty,” he said.

  “Corym,” she started, trying to find the words. The grief in her voice still hit him, yet the depth was diminished to him. “I did what was best for you, to keep you safe. You may not see that now, but you will soon enough,” she said.

  “Perhaps,” said Corym. “But it changes not the truth, that I would have fought for the order to the last while you have turned on their ideals. And in the end, I have been banished while you are still elevated. I have no doubt that we will cross paths again. I just do not know what we shall be to one another when we do,” he said before approaching her. Stiffly he pulled her to his chest, hugging her fiercely, smelling her hair and bidding farewell to the wonderful sensations that such things brought. “Goodbye, Valena,” he whispered.

  After bitter reluctance, Valena responded. “Goodbye, Corym. Know that only you ever hold sway over my heart,” she whispered.

  Corym Shael then let her go, swiftly turning and never looking back. Somehow the hallways of the keep were alien to him now, and he longed to be away from them at all costs. As he neared the doorway, Corym ripped off the insignia that revealed him a captain of the Ranger Order. Tossing it to one of the guards, Corym made his way out into the Fire
star light.

  To his surprise, two lines of Rangers had formed, standing at attention as they waited for the elf. At the sight of Corym, the elves saluted and placed a hand over their heart. Corym immediately saw stalwart companions among the group. At the end, the renowned Ranger and hunter Theron Truespring stepped forward. His bristly face and dirtied uniform revealed much about the Ranger’s love of the wilderness over the comforts of the keep.

  Standing before Theron, Corym placed a hand on the elf’s shoulder. “You’ve come to say goodbye, old friend?” he asked.

  Theron shook his head. “No. We have come to join you,” he replied.

  “I could not ask you ever for such a thing,” said Corym.

  Theron responded with his usual grim candor. “Then do not take it as a request,” he said before tearing off his insignia. Behind him the other Rangers joined him.

  As Corym watched this, a swell of pride filled him, as well as the knowledge that he was not as alone as he had come to believe. “I thank you, old friend,” he said.

  Theron nodded. “You are still captain to us, Shael,” he said.

  Nodding to this, Corym Shael departed silently from the Aelyn Keep, never turning back to look upon his former home. In his wake thirteen Rangers joined him in his banishment. To what adventures and purposes they carried to they knew not, only that they went toward what they believed was right.

  And in the distance. Valena Swiftnight watched him go. Keeping her pain locked away, she silently bid farewell to Corym Shael as he ventured outside of the protective spell that concealed Aelyn Keep. He had taken with him her secret and ultimately her heart. Soon she could see him no more, and the two secret lovers were torn away to unknown futures and uncertain fates.

  CHAPTER Twelve

  The task and purpose

  at hand

  The winds howled their ominous displeasure under the veil of nightfall. And while most of the land was at contentment and rest, one small clearing within a dense forest still permeated a haunting evil. The clearing was marred by an overturned cauldron and a blood-stained altar, yet it was clear that the den of evil had not been used in weeks. Yet this did little do diminish the foulness of the place and those free of foolishness considered it cursed.

  For the first time in weeks, the small altar of worship stirred. Once the hiding place of Norrex the Deathshade, the little altar trembled as magic returned to it. At first it was nothing but a trickle, yet soon the ground swayed with a trembling wrath as the land near the altar cried out and burst open wide. As air rushed into the opening, a pained, angry voice burst forth from the dark, mystic opening.

  A clawed hand emerged then, clasping upon the ground as it pulled out the body that owned it. Gasping for air, Norrex the Deathshade arose from the soil, his tattered robes and bloodied fur a testament to the loss he had endured. Still holding to the mask in his other hand, the pantheryn coughed and drew deep breaths, clearing his lungs as he recovered. Crawling a bit further, Norrex made himself free of the hole entirely before collapsing at the exertion.

  Now free of the hole, Norrex was soon followed by his savior and most loyal and trusted minion. The orc shaman Dobah, pulled himself free as well, equally grateful for the crisp air that met his lungs. The orc was exhausted, his scepter battered and spent from strain and combat. Now free of the hole he had conjured, Dobah collapsed as the hole magically closed. The two minions of Moreg took long moments to rest and gather themselves as they agonized over defeat and the loss of their fortress.

  Recovered sufficiently, Norrex sat himself upright as he hugged the mask he had forged to his chest. “Curse that weed, and curse those that flocked to his foolish banner,” he spat disgustedly.

  Joining his master in sitting, Dobah nodded. “He has proven to be far more versatile than I wished to credit him,” he said, tossing his failing scepter aside in disgust. The light is weak, but it is stubborn in its dying breaths.”

  Norrex struck his fist angrily upon the ground. “We were so close, Dobah! Our glory was promised! We were to be elevated for our endeavors. And yet, here we sit, defeated and cast aside for our efforts. And all because of some insufferable weed.”

  Dobah considered his words. “Where do we go from here, my master? What must we do to elevate ourselves once more?”

  The pantheryn stood, searching about his former altar of power and glory. He often found answers in this place, but now only silence met him. Clearly his master was displeased. Norrex went over recent events repeatedly, desperate to discover the cause of his failure. The silence offered by Moreg terrified him to no end.

  Norrex softly placed the created mask upon his blood-stained altar. He stared at it in grim silence, unable to offer any words to his most loyal and trusted servant, one of the few in this world he would even consider a friend. The mask stared back at him with haunting, empty eyes. The endeavor was still incomplete, for the last bit of his spell had been halted by Theophilus Thistle.

  And yet, as he stared at the mask, truth and revelation came to Norrex. The pantheryn’s eyes widened as vitality returned to him. At last, he understood. At last, the truth revealed itself and the pantheryn felt truly and completely liberated somehow.

  “I see it,” said Norrex. “At last I understand. It had been there all this time and I had been too proudly blind to embrace it. I finally realize the truth of our failure.”

  Dobah came to stand beside him, also staring at the mask. “Tell me, my master. What must be done?” he asked.

  Norrex looked at the mask for long seconds before he replied to the orc. “The problem, Dobah has been there the whole time. The problem all along…was us.”

  Confusion swelled through the orc as he regarded his master and friend. “What do you mean?” he asked.

  Norrex found his smile and composure returning as he turned fully to the orc. “We are the devoted, are we not?”

  Dobah nodded to this firmly. “Absolutely,” he replied.

  Norrex continued. “We place our faith in Moreg and the strength that the darkness provides,” he observed.

  “Without question,” said Dobah.

  Norrex looked as if he could hardly contain himself at the truth he had gleaned. “And yet we do not, and that is why we have failed thus far,” he said.

  Dobah thought on Norrex’s words, still considering them for their answers. “How is this possible?”

  “Think on it, Dobah,” said Norrex as he caressed the mask in his hands. “I crave power and seek elevation, especially in the eyes of our master. This has made me proud and boastful. And you hold a deep and profound loyalty to me as well as our master,” he observed.

  Dobah nodded. “I would follow you to the ends of Lunaria for Moreg,” he answered.

  “Yes,” said Norrex as he ran a claw across the mask. “We place much faith in one another and in this we have stripped faith from our master. That is what Moreg sees. That is why we have failed him. And we must account for this in his eyes,” he mused.

  “How do we do this, Norrex? Tell me what we must do and it will be done,” said Dobah.

  Norrex nodded, still proud and moved by the orc’s devotion. “That is the problem and the solution, Dobah, my devoted friend. The answer is not for the both of us,” he said sagely.

  “Master?” said Dobah, Yet, even as he asked the question, the shaman realized the truth in the pantheryn’s words.

  Yet the revelation came too late to save his life.

  Swiftly, Norrex lunged upon his most loyal friend, piercing his chest with his claws. Dobah fell back, for he was wrenched with a searing and overwhelming pain. Falling to his knees, Dobah watched in horror as Norrex held up the mask and finished his incantation. The mask glowed feverishly in devilish hues of red and orange. It had become like a fire, searing the pantheryn’s fur and hands.

  Suddenly, tendrils of mystic energy lashed out from the mask, latching on to Dobah. The orc fought against them, yet he found himself powerless against such strength. Instantly he was
drained, his magic abandoning him in the assault. He cried out in confusion to Norrex, yet the look in his master’s eyes told him the truth in those moments, that his time was at an end.

  “Farewell, old friend,” said Norrex as he held his concentration. “Your sacrifice glorifies his name and furthers our impending victory.”

  At this, Dobah said no more. Lowering his head in acceptance, holding out his hands to his crushing fate. The tendrils of magic pulled from him, sustained and bolstered by the energies and lifeforce of the shaman. Soon the orc faded as his strength and body were pulled into the mask. As a proud orc, he roared one last time, his battle cry and testament that he lived and died on his own terms.

  And then quite suddenly, the last remnants of Dobah were pulled into the mask and a great explosion of light filled the clearing, breaking the altar and sending Norrex upon the ground. The explosive surge could be seen for leagues before it died out and offered the forest and clearing silence once more. Soon, tranquility returned and Norrex gained the courage to shield his eyes no longer as he looked up once more.

  Before him and the broken altar, Dobah was no more. Hovering above the altar was the mask. The incantation was complete. Standing again, Norrex inched toward the mask in reverence, for the glory of his master was evident in the raw power that emanated from the magical symbol. Norrex felt relief and devotion as he dropped to his knees before the mask.

  “It is done,” whispered the pantheryn.

  To his surprise, the mask responded to him. “You have done well, Deathshade, for you at last see the truth. Your loyalty is now without question and for this you will be elevated.”

  Norrex bowed his head deeply. “Yes, my master. For your glory and for you,” he breathed.

  The mask continued. “Now claim the mask, for now comes the next step. Soon the one who is chosen shall wear this mask and this world will tremble at his name. Protect this mask, keep it safe, for we must return to the shadows for now. But soon the time will come. Soon the world will know power and judgment absolute. This I proclaim,” said Moreg.