Linaera cleared her throat.
“May I say something?”
“Of course,” Gétris said. Urudenthal nodded in agreement.
“Whether you choose to let me inhabit your remarkable forest is ultimately irrelevant to me, since I plan to leave as soon as I can. However, I urge you to consider this necromancer more closely—” She paused to compose herself. The elves gave her a reassuring look, even the elf-thinkers.
“That this necromancer is more powerful than I have ever imagined. Not only did he take down a Silver Mage – a mage who specialises in single-combat battle magic and is typically used for assassination – but he is, as we speak, preparing a vast undead army.
“Now, I don’t know the exact protection your forest offers you. I assume it is quite a lot, if you have managed to go unchallenged for so long. However, my mages must be warned. If you do not warn them, they will surely fall under him. Perhaps you do not care what happens to us humans, but what makes you so sure he won’t turn his sights on you once he’s finished?”
Her speech was met with contemplative silence.
It was Urudenthal who broke it.
“I, as leader of this Council, have made my decision. I fully intend to support the precautionary measures some of my party have suggested, particularly in light of Linaera’s points.
“However, I do not have the capabilities to communicate with any of your mages,” he said, looking at Linaera.
“But haven’t such powerful wielders of magic mastered long-range telepathy? I as an apprentice cannot do such a thing, but surely you must?”
“We can, child. But for long-range telepathy to work, it implies knowledge of the recipient. We haven’t communicated with your mages for centuries.”
Linaera sat on her seat, frustration boiling over her. She could not allow this to happen.
Urudenthal looked decided.
“In accordance with the party’s views, Linaera cannot be allowed to remain in our forest for more than a few days, for her to prepare herself, you understand. However, I have a suggestion.” Linaera paid close attention.
“It seems to me that Linaera is correct in her assertion of the necromancer. Perhaps it would be wise for us to follow it, and send a small party of elves to contact the nearest mages?”
Linaera exhaled, glad that this strange elf was on her side, at least partially.
Someone came into the room.
He was tall, wore the uniform of the hunters, and had a flock of blond hair. He was also quite young, and seemed to be out of breath.
“Council! I have come to you to report that the necromancer we have heard about has invaded Arachadia! There is talk of burning villages among the humans, but the nearby mage academy is said to be surrounded by undead and under lockdown!”
Shouts filled the room.
“SILENCE!” Urudenthal commanded.
“Hunter, is there anything else to report? It seems that the mages are already aware of this…”
“Sir! I do not believe they are. There is talk of a mysterious fog that makes telepathic communication of all forms difficult. It is quite probable the others humans are not aware of these events.”
“What about the Arachadian army?” Linaera asked.
The elf gave her a curious look.
“We have heard nothing of it.” He did some sort of salute, then left.
Murmurs of curiosity and surprise could be heard throughout the room.
Linaera was confused as to why the Arachadian army was not present. Surely if the elves knew about it, the Queen would too? Or maybe they simply hadn’t heard yet?
The fog was new. Probably some form of dark magic on Neshvetal’s part.
“Urudenthal, it seems that for your plan to work, our messengers would have to avoid the necromancer’s army. He would most likely go through the most direct path towards the Arachadian capital – via the central plains. Perhaps the hills of Tenblum would be a good choice?” Gétris asked.
There were sounds of anger.
“We will not send elves to deal with the matters of humans!” an elf said. The beady-eyed one. Again.
Urudenthal looked uncertain; Linaera spoke out.
“I will go! I will tell the Queen myself and stop this depraved madness!”
She had gotten sick of standing idly about while people died. It was time to do something, to protect all the other Johns in Arachadia, or misguided victims such as Perrien.
Urudenthal looked relieved.
“Very well. We shall help you make provisions.”
Gétris interrupted.
“Urudenthal? May I suggest we put someone to accompany her? Arachadia, particularly now, will be a dangerous place for a teenage girl, even a mage.”
Urudenthal considered that.
“Hmmm… indeed. But as much as I despise the idea of sending a helpless human out on her own – for us elves must remain above the humans and monsters of this world – I do not know who would do such a thing.”
“May I suggest Deriën? He is a Hunter I am familiar with; in fact, I mentored him. He is young and has suffered at the hands of humans. Perhaps sending him will make him a good ambassador for our people?”
“You’ve always wanted an ambassador!” somebody called out.
Urudenthal looked like he was taking him seriously. Linaera gave Gétris a glare: why had he suggested this? Sure, she would have loved some elven backup, but Deriën, of all people?
“Excellent idea, Gétris. Then it is concluded: we shall take all suggested measures contra the necromancer, including increasing the size of the patrols and enforcing a mandatory magic-wielder policy. As for the human, we will grant her three days stay, and assign the elf Deriën as an aide for her messenger mission.
“Are we agreed?”
There was some continued opposition, but the overall feeling was of agreement. Linaera thought this remarkable, as she had expected them to deliberate for days, not hours.
Maybe this system really does work.
It was a pity about Deriën though. Maybe he would refuse a direct request from the Council, but Linaera though that was unlikely. Even in her cursory knowledge of him, she could feel he was too duty-bound to refute it.
At least I get to do something useful, she thought. I really am sick of doing nothing.
***
She escaped from the now stifling room, Gadalthal accompanying her. His exact motivations for Linaera remaining in the forest were unknown to her, but she guessed the novelty of bedding a human appealed to him.
“Are you glad to be out of there?” he asked.
“Definitely. Politics is not for me,” Linaera replied. She continued, suddenly remembering something: “What did Gétris mean when he said, ‘and he has suffered at the hands of humans’?”
Gadalthal looked slightly uncomfortable.
“Ah, that’s a tricky one. Deriën’s father, Lerien, was killed soon after he was born. The story goes that a hunter – a human – was hunting deer in the woods. His father was on patrol at the time, but due to a freak of nature the hunter’s arrow missed the deer and hit him instead. He died on the spot.”
Linaera stopped.
“That’s so sad. I always imagined he acted like that towards me because he thought…”
“That he was better than you? Yeah, but there’s more to people than the outside suggests, you know.”
The topic reminded Linaera of things she’d rather forget.
“Anyway, what about his mother?”
“Liená has come to terms with her lovers’ death, and she still helps around as a senior magic wielder. Of course his father wielded magic too, but his love had always been as a Hunter, like Deriën. Liená remains focused on magic.”
This gave Linaera an idea.
“Is there any chance I could talk to her? I’d be curious to learn more about you elves, and besides, I could do with some magic practice.”
Gadalthal fluttered his eyebrows.
“Oh? You kn
ow, I’m a pretty good magic-wielder too.”
Linaera just laughed.
“Go away you, you hit on everyone. I do remember overhearing your twenty girlfriends and a dozen boyfriends complain about you.”
“Ah well, at least I tried.”
“Anyway, you can find Liená towards the northern sector of the city, just ahead. You can’t miss her really; the students often make a lot of noise when they practise their magic skills.”
An elf passed by them. He wore the standard green cloak of the Hunters. His hair was chestnut-brown; his eyes were asymmetrical, one blue and one green. It was a very strange look on an elf.
Which was probably why he waved at Gadalthal, and the duo joined up. Linaera turned away, but not before she saw Gadalthal bending down to give him a rather lustful kiss on the lips.
She hurried away, her face still burning.
As she walked past the working elves, snow crunching underneath her boots and the sun shining down on her, she wondered – not for the first time – how they lived without money.
She had quickly spotted that she wasn’t asked anything for her room, her clothing nor anything else. She had initially assumed it was because she was a guest, but looking more closely, she could see the elves exchanging items – no money passed.
Could such a thing work with us? she wondered. The answer she believed, was a no. Elves were just too different from humans; and although they didn’t have pointed ears and their strength wasn’t that of the exaggerated tales, they just thought in a fundamentally different level.
She decided that Arachadia could however, at least attempt their system of democracy. She couldn’t remember many great kings or queens, but she could certainly remember plenty of bad ones.
Her thoughts were interrupted however, when she began to notice the forest becoming quiet. The noise from the city had dissipated. It really was that small.
The forest became denser, but it felt… homely, rather than intimidating. Suddenly, a song rang out:
Agus lig dúinn fanacht mar a bhí againn i gcónaí:
Ní bheidh an bháis a réamhtheachtaí;
Go mbeidh an solas i réim;
Ó foraoise an tsolais, a dheonú dom trí mian leis.
The voice that sang it was womanly, but older and wiser; it rang with power. It seemed almost like a prayer, though Linaera had seen no sign of any religion in the city.
As she cleared a clearing, she found the owner of the voice.
She was tall, and muscular enough to be a man. Her features were clear and delicate however, indicating beauty as well as strength. Her hair shone blonde in the sunlight; her crystal-clear emerald eyes radiated severity but also compassion.
This must be Deriën’s mother.
The woman paused in her song, giving Linaera questioning look.
“You’re an excellent singer,” Linaera complimented, as was polite.
“Thank you, human. I hear Deriën will be accompanying you on your journey to the human capital.”
Linaera paused, uncertain.
“You know about that?”
“Word travels fast with us elves, and I am quite a well known, high ranking magic-wielder.”
Linaera gave her a shy smile.
She smiled back.
“Don’t worry, it’s all-right; I won’t kill you because my son has to go with you. In fact, I think it’d be a good change of scenery. He’s much too… fanatical, about his views on humans.”
“About that…”
“Oh, don’t tell me you want to talk about his father?” she asked. Before Linaera could reply, she motioned towards the tree-trunk she was sitting on. “Sit and I’ll explain.”
“I don’t want to pester you with questions from the past,” Linaera began. “I’d just like to know how to treat him, since that idiot Gétris made me go with him.”
Liená laughed, a rich sound, full of amusement.
“Oh my, Deriën really should watch out. It seems you humans have a knack of saying the truth. Or am I correct in thinking that particular attribute is specific to you?”
“Yes, Deriën thought the same thing. Anyway…”
“Oh just treat him normally, he gets over things. Now what is the real reason you came to find me?”
Linaera stopped and put her thoughts together.
“The other elves speak highly of your magic skills. I was never particularly good with battle-magic – as my mages put it – and considering the nature of my upcoming mission, I think it’s about time I put my misgivings to ones side and learn to defend myself.”
Liená considered her request, eyebrows drawing together.
“I will help you Linaera, regardless of the noise some of the elves will make. I have one question however: what changed?”
“What do you mean?”
“What made you decide to do this – this new quest of yours, everything.”
“I know you aware of my… encounter, with the necromancer. He killed one of my friends, and I couldn’t do a thing. I can’t let that happen. I can’t let him take all of Arachadia with him.”
Liená smiled – evidently, Linaera’s answer pleased her.
“I always ask the motivation for my pupils, to know whether they have true aims or not… there are few aims truer than the aim to protect your friends. Come.”
She got up, and Linaera hurried to follow her.
“What do you want me to do?”
“A basic fire spell.”
She pointed at a humanoid figure: it was a straw-man, one covered in snow.
“Sruthán,” she intoned, her voice suddenly filled with power. A flash of light exploded from her now outstretched hand, momentarily blinding Linaera.
When her sight recovered, she could see the straw man was now dry as a tinderbox. Her mouth opened a little.
“I’m well known for a reason, you know,” she said, spotting her expression.
With an effort of will, Linaera closed her mischievous jaw, and prepared her own firespell.
“Your human mages did teach you firespells, right?”
“Yes, but as much as I admire your skill, shouldn’t I be doing something more complex?”
“I wish to get a good impression of your basic skills before we do anything more.”
Linaera noticed that some elven children – a small group, really – hid in the forest, watching them with wide-eyed curiosity.
It didn’t help her situation.
Forcing such thoughts in the back of her mind – of the elves watching, the pressing concern over Arachadia – she focused her energy towards her hand, building up a steady stream.
“Fier!”
A bright ball of power exploded from her hand, but it veered off from its target course and singed a tree instead. Laughter could be heard.
Linaera growled, and launched another fireball.
This one came for the target, but exploded prematurely, showering it with sparks. No more.
“You have to blot them out – they are irrelevant. Think of the straw man. Think as if the straw man was the necromancer, and focus your anger towards him.”
Linaera didn’t understand this; evidently, her control was the problem, not her magic. But she did as she was told.
“Fier!”
This time, the flame ball did hit its mark, but somehow, her energy had reduced; it did nothing but black the exterior.
“Try one more time. More people will die, Linaera. Do it.”
Linaera stopped.
The straw-man stared in front; suddenly, its eyes gained the eerie blue tinge so familiar to Neshvetal. Its body seemed animated with laughter and derision as he slaughtered her companions.
Come on, little girl. Do you need daddy to do your work? it seemed to mock.
All her anger, frustration and sheer helplessness came to point. She’d had enough.
“Devnæth Úster!”
This time, instead of a fireball, a pure beam of angry red light erupted from her hands. A moment la
ter, the straw man was cut in half.
Silence descended.
“Well, well, well, it seems you do have some guts.”
THIRTY TWO
Curse Linaera, curse Gétris, curse them all! Deriën thought as he walked alongside Gadalthal.
He had received the request from the Council mere hours ago, and was still fuming. Of course he couldn’t deny it; denying a direct request from the Council would pretty much destroy his reputation. Now he had to go on a demented excursion to the human city of Dresh – with humans! Humans! – all because of one girl and her new-found sense of righteousness.
Agh!
Gadalthal tried to cheer him up.
“Calm down Deriën, it’s not the end of the world. I doubt some mere humans scare you, after all?”
Deriën muttered something under his breath which sounded very much like a curse, but Gadalthal was not to be deterred.
“You could at least talk to her you know. I think she might even be into you. How else could she deny my charms, after all?”
Despite his mood, Deriën laughed.
“Oh Gadalthal, you really are obnoxious. Very well, I shall speak with her, though I can’t imagine she has anything to say that will sway me.”
“You never know,” Gadalthal commented as he walked away. “People are never what they seem.”
***
Night was approaching; the last traces of the festival disappeared. The elves may love a good festival, but they couldn’t deny reality for ever.
The young elven students had talked about Linaera and her adventures with the straw man – and all the various amazing things she did afterwards (which Deriën was sure were exaggerated) – so Deriën headed towards his old home, where his mother lived.
He had been glad to live at the Hunter lodges. The place still gave him memories he’d rather not remember…
***
Nearly-grown Deriën was enjoying painting a beautiful butterfly he had seen when a cloud passed over the pristine blue sky. Summer had been long and fruitful (in the literal sense), but it was coming to an end now.
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