Chronicles of the Planeswalkers

by B. T. Robertson

  Gorgithon scowled and more arguing assaulted the peaceful night air, which was already filled with a mixture of curses and hollers. The wolves paced around the perimeter. Their language was different from that of goblins, and they were not accustomed to holding counsels.

  During this, Aeligon stood absolutely still, watching and waiting for the right moment. He knew that he could not let this gang pass without retribution for their attack on the city, no matter what their orders. He needed to find out as much information as possible before he dispatched his wrath upon them. He lowered his sword and stuck it in the ground, since sheathing it would have proven too noisy. His staff was in his firm grasp and the birth of a spell was already beginning to shape, thanks, in part, to Pux. The wind picked up slightly, but the fighting goblins never noticed it. The wolves began to sniff the air, and their pacing stopped. Their keen senses were sharper than the goblins', since arguing was not in their blood to distract them.

  Finally, the mass stopped their squabbling and readied to make off again to their tarnished lands. Aeligon saw resolve emerge, and his staff stretched to the sky. The net of twisted branches that concealed his presence were cast aside, and his form cut through the darkness like a knife. The goblins and wolves spun around, and gasped at the new enemy before them. The wolves crouched low and growled, their yellow eyes beaming at the wizard. They never had the chance to spring toward him, nor did the goblins ever get a chance to tell their story to Haarath. A rush of energy flowed from the sky and crashed into Gorgithon. It shot out from him in all directions, using his body as a conduit to the others. One bolt turned into many, as the web of fury was cast through them. Sizzling and popping could be heard; the goblins boiled, and the wolves burned. Smoke and fire consumed the horde and none were left alive. Once the lightning ceased, neither goblin nor wolf could be found alive and none escaped. No word of their tale would be told to their master. The wind carried away the smoke and scent of burnt hair and flesh, and the earth absorbed the rank carcasses so that no trace of them would be found.

  "That felt good, didn't it, Aeligon,” asked Pux, proud as could be.

  "Yes,” answered Aeligon with a smile, “yes it did."

  Aeligon quickly grabbed his sword, sheathed it, and once again rode toward Mynandrias. He trod carefully, for the politics and the condition of the city would be in hiatus since their attack. There would be no one allowed to enter their borders. It would be difficult enough trying to sneak past the alerted guards in the watchtowers. Aeligon knew of a secret entrance to the city on the northern side that was used for purposes like this. He now turned that direction to seek a meeting with the House of Lythardia, and the wisdom within. Hope grew in him, knowing that the elves had pushed their attackers back into the forest.

  * * * *

  The North Gate was well guarded, but one entrance to the city still remained secret to all but the Order of Light and select High Elves. The passage had been built by members of the House of Lythardia in response to threats from the east during the Great Wars. If the city was besieged, the passage was wide enough to accommodate a wide stream of people, since chaos would be a problem in a narrow one. The doors to the entranceway were set in an outcropping of rock formations that jutted up in many places on the north face of the city. There were three exit doors in total. Each was invisible from the sky or from land, unless a passerby was actively searching for them. It was believed that having three doors to access the passage was wiser than having only one. A large passage restricted by one narrow exit would mean certain death if it were blocked. In case enemies were waiting for them, each of the doors exited in a different part of the rocks to split the mass. The thick steel doors were securely bolted and locked from the inside. A clever device was cast to allow one to simply move a lever, and the door would be unlocked and thrown open. It was an intricate plan at the time, having been long forgotten since the wars ceased and the city grew to have large gates at each of its four sides. The secret entrances were not decommissioned. They were left there for the select few who knew of them to use.

  Aeligon arrived at the north door, the other two looking east and west respectively at different points in the rocks, and found it tightly sealed. No keyhole or hinge was apparent and the metal had rusted to a brownish ruddy color with green moss growing over a portion. This helped the door blend in with the surrounding environment. Its age had its benefits. If another had come upon a door in this condition, it most likely would have been left to simple curiosity and passed by. Aeligon had other plans. He held out his hand and turned his fingers with a motion that looked like he was turning and twisting at the empty air. A whining creak was heard as he continued to turn his hand. Finally, the door flung open toward him. Rust and dirt flew about, and a musty smell emerged from the passage. Aeligon wasted little time, secured the door behind him, and was quickly devoured by the dark, stale channel. Along the path he felt his way in the dark. His thoughts at the moment were of how the elves made their way in the dark, but then the answer came to him when a flame burst in his hand. The light cast by his magic illuminated the road, and along the walls were bolted elaborate torch sconces that held rotted branches. Some had burnt ends, but many did not, indicating that the passage had never been used for its intended purpose. Aeligon tried to find a dry stick to light, but they were all damp and moldy. He had no choice but to hold the small flame, and keep up the spell for as long as he could before it dissipated. That he did, until at last he started up a small flight of stairs that ended at a fairly wide door. This time, there were no locks or hinges visible on the inside. This must be barred from entrance on the outside, thought Aeligon. Since he could not see out to determine what blocked the door, he had to let the flame spell die so he could conjure a seeing spell. He determined that the door was both chained shut, and barred with five large iron bars positioned from right to left where it then was fastened to a stone edifice. “Much more work than I intended,” he grumbled.

  Pux, who had remained very silent while his master sought a way out, added his two cents. “You know, Aeligon, we would have stood a much better chance of hailing the elves at the gate rather than challenging their defenses. If they catch you, they will be more inclined to stick you with arrows than if you arrived on friendly terms."

  "I am aware of our predicament, Pux,” said Aeligon. “But we cannot risk being prohibited from entering. Guards are not easy to break, especially after their borders were attacked, as they were not more than a half day ago. No, we mustn't alarm them, but I have you to aid me. I will need a spell, Pux. So if you don't mind, I need it now!"

  Pux quickly retreated into the staff. He needed full concentration to help Aeligon with the task at hand.

  The creaking and sliding of the bars, and the loosing of the chains without a presence visible, caused some disturbance among the elves that witnessed it. When the doors creaked open and the wizard's head popped out curiously, smiles played on the faces of those gathered to see what was making such a fuss. Aeligon set calm and hushed them from speaking a word of his arrival. They went their way again, forgetting all they had just seen. The other end of the passage opened up from a structure that was built by the Library of Songs, near the back and mostly out of sight. The House of Lythardia was at hand, and Aeligon knew that his initial encounter with the Council would be met with disdain and misunderstanding. He made haste in sealing the door, and hurried himself to the causeway leading to the door of the Great House.

  * * * *

  The door to Lythardia's domain was guarded when meetings took place, and barred shut when no council was convened. Dawn was young and the meetings of the day had yet to begin, so Aeligon knew that guards did not yet lie in his path. It had been close to twelve hours since he had heard the cries from the West Gate. The air was colder, but with the passing night came the warm hopes of a sun upon the land. His dark blue robe glistened with dew drops clinging to the home they had found. As Aeligon ducked to remain hidden from sight, they fell to the g
round with tiny splashes. He knew that he could not barge in or pick the lock of this place, for that would be most unwelcome. He stood at the foot of the staircase leading down to the entrance and, with the light rap of his staff, a hollow echo passed beyond the door and into the dome. The sound receded, but no approach could be heard. Again he tapped the door with the heel of his staff. Again, nothing. He was about to give it a solid pounding out of sheer frustration when, at that moment, the door cracked open and out peered the fair face of an elf maiden.

  Pux mumbled under his breath, “Bless you, fair maiden, for I was growing tired of being banged against your door."

  "Excuse me?” the elf maiden asked, puzzled at where the comment came from.

  Aeligon jammed the butt of the staff into the ground hard to hush Pux.

  "Nothing,” lied Aeligon with a half-smile, embarrassed.

  Aeligon never had the pleasure of meeting many of those who dwelt within those walls and this troubled him greatly, for there were so many faces, like the one before him, that he would have much liked to look upon at leisure. He cleared his throat.

  "Ahem. Pardon me, my lady,” said Aeligon smoothly, “I call upon you to fetch Lord Tristandor, Ruler of this House."

  A smile grew on her face when she answered, “No one is permitted here unless invited or called to stand before the House on trial."

  "I understand, my lady, but you must understand that I bring news from Merchindale and need to speak with him. Time is not on our side. You may tell him that Aeligon the Healer begs his counsel.” With that, Aeligon bowed his head slightly out of respect, a gesture that won fine admiration with the elves.

  The maiden asked him to wait while she sought out the answer to his question. The door closed, but Aeligon did not have the heavy heart he once did.

  It was a long while before the door cracked open and the lovely face appeared on the other side again.

  "Tristandor will see you, Aeligon, and was greatly pleased when I told him that it was you who called upon him,” said the maiden gently. “Please come in."

  Aeligon had taken a seat on the lowest stair, but rose with the invitation. The door opened and he slid past the maiden, the flowery scent of her hair and the aroma of her skin pleasing his senses. He nervously bowed to her again out of thanks and respect. It was then that he noticed the elegant Vrünyn Guard, the elite guard regime of the House. Four of them, two on each side, guarded the short foyer that led into the dome structure ahead. Crimson carpet lined the center of the marble floor, and a marble pillar stood behind each guard. They were dressed in elegant red cloaks of the finest linen that draped most of their body, starting at the shoulders and cascading down, almost touching the floor. At the neck, a broach pinned the cloak together, which split open down the center of their bodies, allowing the armor underneath to be visible. Each also wore a helmet made of a metal that held a golden luster, and grasped a long lance in their right hand. In their left, they held a shield wrought of the same metal and intricate design scheme as the helmet. They never made a movement. Their presence made Aeligon feel both safe and uneasy at the same time. He moved past them along the red carpet, and came to the chamber that housed the twenty chairs and the throne of Lythardia Oruma.

  Aeligon entered, noticing that no other council member was present, yet Tristandor sat on the throne as if a great council was already summoned.

  "Aeligon, my old friend,” said Tristandor with the most appreciative smile. “What brings you to my house under such secretive conditions?"

  Tristandor stood and walked down the steps at the foot of his chair, meeting Aeligon in the center of the chamber. The light from the above chandelier bounced off the marble floor and reflected around them both, blanketing them in a sea of blue light.

  Aeligon's smile quickly turned sour, since the reality of his news would soon unwind Tristandor's friendly welcome.

  "I have treacherous news from Merchindale, my lord."

  "Aeligon, you may call me Tristandor; you have honor here without the burden of calling me by my title,” offered Tristandor.

  "Very well, Tristandor, I will call you what you wish, though out of respect for this House and yourself, did I refer to you as ‘lord’ just now."

  "It is because of you that I and this House continue on, Aeligon,” said Tristandor proudly. “Or have you forgotten already the events of the past?"

  Aeligon bowed once again. His memory of customs and behavior were impeccable at the very least.

  "When I heard it was you who knocked at my door, I was greatly pleased and overjoyed that you came. Things have been troubling lately, and it was refreshing to have a welcome face like yours to grace this place,” said Tristandor.

  "Your words are kind and generous, and fitting for a leader of your stature,” said Aeligon. “However, it is with bad news that I came here this early hour, my friend."

  Tristandor's face grew troubled, as if he already knew of what Aeligon spoke without hearing a word. He turned, walked a few feet from Aeligon, and spoke finally after a brief stint of silent deliberation. “My son returned from Merchindale not long ago, and nearly got himself killed. He interrupted the Council several nights ago when he told his tale to me. The story was disturbing, and it did not take long for him to show signs of stress while telling it."

  Aeligon listened intently to his friend, memorizing the words that dripped out of his pained lips. The scars on Tristandor's face reddened from the recollections manifested. He started to pace slowly around the floor as he spoke. Light from the mysterious Lenthan crystals cast a montage of shapes and shadows around the dome.

  "He reminds me so much of myself when I was a youth, Aeligon,” confessed Tristandor. “I believe that mortifies me more than any other single trouble that may grace our lands in these days. It was in my foolish times that I, my flame, nearly died. You remember it, do you not?"

  Aeligon lowered his head. The recapturing of that time was all too real. All he could do was nod in silent agreement.

  "You cannot let this path that he has chosen allow your lead of these people to fail. Your strength to fight the despair must prevail, Tristandor.” He walked toward the tortured Elf-Lord, and laid his hand upon his shoulder.

  "You are right, my old friend,” said Tristandor softly. “I cannot be a leader if I let this despair lead me into darkness. My son's path is his own to choose, or for fate to lay before him.” His face became brighter; as quickly as the despondence fell upon him, it vanished. He offered his outstretched hand, and, while shaking it firmly, the wizard smiled.

  "So now we come to the business of what we are to do. We are at a crossroad of decision, Tristandor, for the city may be in greater peril than we know. The Order of Light is no longer capable of dealing with such a force as Haarath intends to resurrect, whether that be Hydrais himself or another. We must act quickly."

  Tristandor asked, “What allies do we have, Aeligon? Who can we turn to for aid? Mynandrias is powerful with the most skilled elves in the Realm of Anwarna, yet they alone cannot intercept the army that Haarath will no doubt bring forth."

  "We must send out parties to seek it out, for I fear I know little of what is left of any ally, save for the scattered mages and wizards to the north. There may be some giants remaining of Farrin's force to the west of Fornidain. These areas are far, and difficult to reach. We may have little time to arrange and dispatch large legions to these locations, so I suggest bands no larger than seven members. Each of these will be given horses of the fastest breed. They will have two objectives: first, to persuade each race to aid in this conflict, and second, if they succeed in that, to bring those forces to the regions most in need."

  "You have given this much thought, my friend,” said Tristandor, impressed with Aeligon's fast and thorough response.

  "I have had much time to deliberate and ponder such things. My foresight aids me, and I feel the good aligned in me, steering me,” Aeligon responded. “I would also suggest that a team of your stealthiest ass
assins be sent to Gudred to seek the aid of King Hrathis. This will be most crucial in gaining the support of men to mount against Haarath, and whatever bends his will against us. I believe you already know how that company will be assembled,” added Aeligon with a wink.

  Tristandor noted the wink and with a sigh said, “Yes, my son will lead that company west to Gudred. I would much like you to be with him in that party, Aeligon."

  The wizard's eyes became wide. His foresight did little to prepare him for Tristandor's proposal. He chuckled as he answered, “I think not. I am no assassin, and my best years are behind me. I would only serve to slow them down. I am not yet old but, even so, I am not the youth I once was."

  "I would want you by my son's side much as you were at my own long ago. Best years or not, you are the most powerful wizard roaming these lands and your healing powers would be best used in this party, especially for the danger involved. Your knowledge of the peoples of this Plane is unparalleled, and will be put to their greatest test there. Please reconsider, my old friend,” persisted Tristandor.

  Aeligon's lips tightened, and he sighed. He knew in his mind that this was a most noble task being asked of him by the noblest creature inhabiting the Plane of Vaalüna. He had never let down another creature in need, and this was no different.

  "Yes,” he finally answered, “I will accompany your son, Aerinas, and the other members of your choosing."

  "Then rest tonight, Aeligon, for you have traveled far and your mind is no doubt fatigued. Tomorrow we shall convene here at dawn, giving one day's rest and no longer. It will take me that long to call upon the needed warriors for these parties. You are welcome to stay in the room behind the House here.” Tristandor pointed to a doorway behind him tucked away under one of the balconies.

  "I am much obliged, Tristandor, and the gesture is much appreciated,” answered Aeligon gratefully.