by Gabe Jones
"Morek!" Steris called out. No response. She called his name a few more times, yet he did not respond. They went upstairs and entered his bedroom. Morek sat on the bed facing the window.
"Why does it hurt?" Morek asked. He turned around. Tears slipped down his face from his bloodshot eyes. Dark bags hung under his usually beautiful blue eyes. "I thought I did the right thing," he said. "It made me feel good. Killing should not make me feel good."
"Morek," Steris replied. "It hurts because you're good. The side that is telling you that killing is bad is fighting with the bad. There is no light magic. If you use too much of it, especially at your age, it will do to you what it did to Diroqrax."
"I just want the pain to go away," he told her, more tears slipping down his face.
"Morek, that pain is the only thing that is keeping you from becoming evil," Steris said. She turned to Durfur. "There must be a quick way off this mountain."
"Well," Durfur said, "I could get you close."
Steris nodded. "Can you walk?" she asked Morek. He nodded. "Let's go," Steris said. Durfur escorted them out of the house to the stairs that led to the mines.
"We are going to dig our way out?" Steris asked as they descended.
"There is a series of tracks that will get us close to the bottom of the mountain," Durfur explained. "I am sure you can speed up the trip a little."
They made it to the tracks and got on a mine car. Steris stuck her wand out behind it and used a spell to propel them very quickly into the mines of the Ekridge Mountains. After several twists and turns, they finally made it to an opening in the mountain. Daylight poured through as the cart came to a stop. A forest could easily be seen only a short hike from them.
"Where are we?" Steris asked.
Durfur pointed forward. "The Southern Road is a day that way," he said. The mountains continued behind them. The Ekridge Range marked the edge of the Dwarf Empire.
"How far is the Elf Empire?" Steris asked. A scowl crossed Durfur's face. "I do not need an attitude right now," Steris said. "We must make our way to the Garden of Reluvethel."
"I know of it," Durfur said. "The final battle in which the Elves and Dwarves fought together against the Orcs was held there. My father died in that very garden."
"I am sorry, Durfur," Steris replied. "But it is the most peaceful place in the region. Do it for Morek." She looked at him with huge, pleading eyes. He pointed left.
"It is three days on foot from here," Durfur told her. "On the edge of their Empire. It borders ours."
"Thank you," Steris said. Durfur began walking. Steris and Morek followed.
"If you hate them so much, why do your Empires border?" Steris muttered under her breath.
They made their way down the mountainside and into the forest. That night they rested in the cool grass. Steris placed a sleep spell on Morek to help him rest, but even so, he twitched around in his sleep. Three days passed as they made their journey onward. Finally, they came to a clearing. A beautiful stream flowed through. Flowers grew everywhere. Vines climbed the rocky ruins of old buildings.
"Reluvethel was not always a garden," Durfur said. "It was once a beautiful city. My father told me he visited it several times after the treaty of the Dwarves and Elves and before the war of the Orcs."
"The legends say that if a being is dipped in the stream and laid in the grass, he shall have peace," Steris told him.
They brought Morek to the stream and stripped him of his still dirty clothes from the fight. They helped him step into the stream. He stayed there and let the cold water slip over his body. Blood and dirt slipped away down the stream.
"Leave me," Morek said. They nodded and went to camp right outside the garden. The next day, they found Morek's clothes drying on a rock. They went farther down the stream to search for him. His sword sat sticking out of the stream. Morek was gone. Steris grabbed his sword.
"The Elves have him," Durfur said.
"Where is the closest Elf city?" Steris asked.
"Heemelle, I believe. Only a short walk from here."
"Lead.”
Durfur led her deep into the forest. The canopy of the trees made it almost impossible for light to break through. They were running when suddenly an arrow struck the ground in front of them.
"Stop," Steris said. The two came to a halt.
The shooter did not show himself but spoke: "What does a company of human and Dwarf have of business in our lands?"
"I am Steris, the Wizard of Umard Woods, and this is Durfur, the Ekridge Dwarf of Nerngarohm," Steris explained. "We request our friend back. He was taken by the Garden of Reluvethel."
"The human male?" he asked.
"Yes," Steris said.
Two Elves stepped out of the shadows. Both were tall, thin, and muscular in stature. One, the Elf who was speaking, was male and the other, female.
"Your weapons," said the female elf. Steris gave her wand. Durfur reluctantly handed over his battle axe.
"This wand is Guardian made," the male elf said.
"I trained Emperor Borious in magic," Steris replied.
"That man is a great combatant, but a fool in his leadership," he said. "Come."
The Elves led them through the woods. Buildings began to show through the brush. These buildings were made of cobblestone and often one story tall. As they continued on, these short buildings gave way to bigger and bigger buildings. In the center of town was a huge, beautifully designed castle.
"Lord Azetlor shall decide your fate," the male elf said. "Let he have mercy upon you."
Chapter Ten: Heemelle
Morek awoke in darkness. His head throbbed. Pain filled his body. His eyes began adjusting to the dark. He was in a cell, hanging from the ceiling by chains. Morek wondered why he was bare until memories began returning: The garden. Steris and Durfur. Khuddim, Nerngarohm, and the Dwarfs. Diroqrax.
The thoughts of that evil sent shivers through him. Morek whispered a spell, and the chains unlocked. He fell to the cold, hard ground. His legs were weak. The thick, wooden cell door was locked as well. Morek used magic and opened it.
Outside was a long, stone hall with similar doors. On its left was a staircase. An Elf sat asleep at the bottom of the stairs. Morek cast a sleep spell on him to ensure he would stay that way. He removed the Elf's clothing and put them on. They were tight, but would suffice. He took the short sword from him as well.
Morek ascended the stairs and opened the door. To his surprise, he found Steris and Durfur bound in chains protected by two Elves. He quickly knocked them out with sleep spells.
"Morek," Durfur said, surprised.
"Turn around," Morek whispered. Steris and Durfur turned around as Morek cut through their chains.
"Are you ok?" Steris asked.
"Just a little beat up," Morek replied. "We need to get out of here."
"Did you kill them?" Durfur asked, referring to the sleeping Elves.
"They are just asleep," Morek said. "Which is why we need to get out."
"That was a very bad idea," Steris insisted. "These are highly skilled Elves."
Morek ignored her and ascended the spiral staircase. Durfur followed behind. Steris sighed and ran up behind them.
"Where are your weapons?" Morek asked.
"I do not know," Durfur said.
They reached the top and entered a gigantic entrance hall. No one seemed to be around. Morek handed Durfur his sword. "Steris and I will use hand magic," Morek whispered. "Lead the way."
Steris led them across the room to the gigantic open doors. Outside was a bustling town of Elves. "Where are we?" Morek asked.
"Heemelle," Durfur replied. "Close to the garden."
"We need to get out of here and get to the Orcs," Morek said.
"Spying for the Orcs?" asked a smooth, deep male voice. "So now they are using humans and Dwarfs to spy on us." The group turned and came face to face with an Elf dressed in robes wearing a golden crown. "Those savages are getting more creative," he said. "Gr
ab them." The three guards with him seized Morek and his friends. "To my chamber," the Elf commanded.
They were forced out of the entrance hall into the throne room. The stone castle was elegantly designed with tall windows and beautiful arches. Stairs led up to a throne in the center of the room. The Elf sat in the throne.
"Kneel," he said. The guards pushed them to their knees. "Let the court of myself, Lord Azetlor, begin," the Elf said. "Male human, you are convicted of trespassing and attempted escape. Female human, you and the Dwarf are convicted of trespassing."
"Trespassing? What are you-?" Morek began to ask before being kicked in the side. He fell silent.
"He shall be executed," Azetlor told them. "The female human and Dwarf will be imprisoned for 20 years."
"Enough!" Morek shouted, throwing back the guards. The chains fell off of the wrists of Morek and his friends. The guards began to stand. "Steris," Morek said. She nodded. Steris turned around and froze the guards in ice. Durfur grabbed one of the guards’ spears. Lord Azetlor sat in shock.
"Do not call for any guards," Morek commanded.
"Morek, calm yourself. Do not let the hate consume you," Steris warned. Morek took a deep breath.
"My Lord, I am Guardian Morek of Harthwait," Morek explained. "This is the wizard, Steris, and Ekridge Dwarf, Durfur of Nerngarohm. We were in the Garden of Reluvethel seeking peace."
"I thought the Guardians were dispersed and inactive," Azetlor said.
"We are en route to the Orc Empire, seeking to reclaim the Nesur Crystal," Morek told him.
Azetlor sighed. "I am sorry, Guardian," he said. "Let me offer you a place in my palace, a meal, and aid for your journey."
"Thank you," Morek replied, relaxing. Steris unfroze the guards.
"Get our guests their weapons," Azetlor commanded. The guards nodded and left the throne room. They returned minutes later and handed them their weapons.
"May I see your sword?" the lord asked. Morek handed him his sword. Azetlor examined it. "The blade has killed. Orc, I believe?" Morek nodded. "There is something else though," Azetlor said. "This has killed something more evil."
"A dark wizard," Durfur told him.
"Who?" Azetlor asked.
"Diroqrax, dark wizard of the Orcs," Steris said.
"You killed Diroqrax?" Azetlor asked Morek.
"Yes," Morek replied.
"Then I am in your debt," he said.
"Why so?" Morek asked.
"My grandfather was killed by that scum years ago," Azetlor explained. "My father took an oath to kill him and passed it to me. He said that if I was not to kill Diroqrax, to pass it to my son. If another was to slay him, I would be forever in his debt."
"Well, once again, thank you," Morek said. "If I need anything, I will call on you."
"Wonderful," the lord replied. "Now, let us eat."
He stood and led them through a door at the back of the hall. A long wooden table sat in the middle of the room. Silver platters held delicacies that made their mouths water. The center of the table held even more food. They all sat together on one side of the table. Morek felt like they were a family. The first course was an amazing wild mushroom soup, which was quickly finished. The soup was followed by venison with a side of forest greens. The sweet ending to the meal was fruit drizzled in a sweet nectar glaze.
Azetlor's family stared in amazement as the trio of guests scarfed down their food. When they finished the meal, they grabbed even more from the center of the table. They finally finished after Durfur belched, much to the Elves disgust.
A servant was instructed to lead them upstairs to their rooms. They climbed the many flights of stairs to a corridor of rooms. Steris and Durfur went to their rooms first. Then Morek was led into his room. The room, like the rest of the castle, was beautiful. An archway covered by a curtain opened to a balcony that looked out onto the city. Lights lit the banks of the twin rivers flowing through the city. The moon and stars lit up the night sky.
Morek went back into the room. A gigantic bed sat against one wall. A dresser and a mirror were on the other side. He stripped out of the Elven clothes and threw them into a corner. He pulled back the fluffy blanket and sank into the bed. Morek let the soft warmth envelop his body as his mind drifted off to a place free of darkness.
Chapter Eleven: Growing Darkness
Morek awoke to the sun shining through the archway to the balcony. He pulled off the blankets and got out of bed. The cold stone floor sent a shock through his body when his feet touched the floor. He walked to the balcony. The rivers sparkled in the morning light. Already, Heemelle was awake.
Elves were rushing to and from place to place. 'I might wish to stay here when this is over,' Morek thought. He went back into the room and found a bowl of water and a sponge at the door. He wondered when it was brought in. He took the bowl and set it on the dresser. Morek washed himself and returned to the balcony to dry in the morning sun. A knock came at the door. Morek partly opened it to reveal an Elf. He handed Morek clothes.
"We found the clothes you had in the garden," he said. "They are fully washed and dried. Breakfast is being served in the main dining hall. Your friends are already downstairs. If you need anything, just find me."
"Thank you," Morek replied. The Elf bowed and left.
Morek got dressed, fixed his appearance in the mirror, and sheathed his sword. He left his room and went downstairs to join his friends. He could smell the food from the top of the stairs. The spread was even more bountiful than the night before. Eggs, fruits, and venison sat in the middle of the table. Morek sat next to Durfur and began piling food on his plate.
"I never introduced you to my family," Azetlor said. Morek removed the half-eaten fruit from his mouth and laid it on his plate. "This is my wife Lixiss, my two sons, Siirist, the eldest, and Elmer, and my daughter, Ayda," the lord said proudly. The boys bowed, and the girls curtsied.
"Thank you for allowing our intrusion," Morek said. They nodded.
"Morek, I would like to give you my son to help your journey through our empire," Azetlor offered.
"The extra help would be nice," Steris replied. "But it is up to you, Morek."
"I agree," Morek said.
"I will prepare myself," Siirist said. He turned and went upstairs. Morek finished his breakfast. The group met outside the castle. Guards handed them bags with supplies and food. Siirist joined them a few minutes later with his father.
"I will offer you my horses," Azetlor told them. Guards brought forth four stallions. Morek chose a beautiful white one.
"Anfalen," Siirist said to Morek. "I raised him." The group mounted their horses. They galloped off.
"Safe travels!" Azetlor shouted.
Morek remembered Juniper as he rode along. He promised to return her to Simun. One day he would, if Simun survived. They moved east through the Elf's Empire, keeping to the southern border. They did not pass many villages. Siirist said that most villages lay in the interior of the empire, and Heemelle was the closest to the border of any Elf city.
Two days into the journey, they accidentally crossed back into The Empire. They were stopped by men.
"Halt!" they shouted. "Where are your registration papers?"
"Registration papers?" Morek asked.
"The Empire demands all citizens to be documented and have papers available to show to guards," one of them explained.
"When did this go into effect?" Steris asked. "I lived in Umard Woods for years and was never required to register."
"After the attack on Harthwait in the North and increase in mass crimes, Emperor Borious made it mandatory," the guard said.
"I am Siirist, son of Lord Azetlor of Heemelle of the Elf Empire. We are on order--"
"No Elves are allowed within our borders after what your emperor decreed!" a guard shouted.
"What did he decree?" Siirist asked.
"He said there would be no help from the Elves, and he believed the Orcs had justifiable reason to attack The Empire.
"
Galloping could be heard in the distance. Black horses rushed out of the foliage.
"Dark riders," gasped a guard. "We cannot let them reach Wimborne."
The group dismounted their horses. Morek unsheathed his sword and stood in a battle stance with the sword in front of him. Steris stood to one side, ready with her wand. Durfur stood on the other, pulling his axe off his back.
"What will you do?" a guard asked.
"Fight," Morek replied.
Siirist got off his horse and strung his bow. He loaded an arrow and stood behind Morek. The horses came to a stop in front of the group. Three men in dark robes dismounted their horses.
"Allow us passage or die," one of them said.
"You will not be allowed passage," Morek replied.
The three robed men pulled swords from their waists. Siirist let off a shot. It punctured one of the men's shoulders. He shouted in pain.
Another dark rider ran at Steris, who launched a ball of fire at him. He fell to the ground screaming. Morek sliced the man on the right through the stomach, leaving Siirist open for a shot. The rider with the injured shoulder ran at him. Siirist pulled an arrow from his quiver and punctured the man's neck at point blank range. His sword simultaneously went through Siirist's abdomen. The dark rider fell back, gripping at his bleeding neck.
"Siirist," Morek gasped.
Siirist removed the sword from his body and fell backwards. Morek ran and caught him before he hit the ground. He laid Siirist down in the grass.
"Siirist," Morek said. "Stay with me." Nearby, Durfur buried his axe in the head of one of the other injured riders. Siirist coughed up blood.
"Morek," Siirist said. "Let my family know I love them. May your journey be fulfilled." Siirist breathed his last breath. Morek took his bow and quiver.
"We will return this to Azetlor after this is finished," Morek told the others. He turned to the guards. "Take us to Wimborne."
They all mounted their horses. Morek put Siirist on his horse and covered him with his cloak. He took the horse's reins and led it along behind him. It was sunset when they reached Wimborne. The city was silent. It reminded Morek of Nerngarohm during the time before the war. It was eerie. Windows were dark. The streetlamps barely lit the town. They came to the inn.