Elf Lords: 01 - Pearls of the Elf Lords

by Richard Saunders

  Renald touched the tip of the broken White-Pearled Staff to the last vacant indentation on the portal just as Landis’s body slammed into his. The two of them crashed into the wall beyond the portal. Even with Landis’ interference the touch of the staff was all that was necessary for the Gate of the Dragon to grab hold of the pearl and pull it into the opening.

  ReShard was badly injured and could barely stand, but he was a well trained and experienced fighter who was not about to lie down and die just yet. In mid scream, as the dwarf pulled his axe away, he pushed off on his good right leg, shifting his sword’s direction as he did so and sliced a long, deep gash into Weslocke’s left shoulder. The dwarf backed away, raising his axe in preparation for the counter strike. Weslocke could see at once that his position was not good, as ReShard’s sword was aimed directly at his chest and was rapidly closing the short distance between steel and flesh. Weslocke swung his axe forward, knowing that he did not have the time or position to parry the blow. He did not waste the effort, choosing instead to deliver what he hoped to be an equally fatal blow to ReShard. Seemingly out of nowhere came a sword to deflect ReShard’s deathblow. Jareel Greyfeather had sprung into action and seeing the dwarf’s predicament came to his aid. ReShard’s sword was knocked downward by the blow of Jareel’s blade. The plainsman then swiftly raised his sword and drove it into ReShard’s gut just as Weslocke’s axe buried into the man’s upper chest. Blood spewed from both wounds as ReShard dropped his sword and fell to the floor.

  Boric was a well seasoned soldier and swordfighter with years of training and skill, and with all of that at his disposal he quickly discovered that Jaylen was indeed a master. In the elf’s hands swordplay was an art, not a skill. Death was the masterpiece painted not by a brush but by cold steel in the hands of a Sabodine warrior. And Jaylen may very well have become the most proficient Sabonine to have ever mastered The Way of the Sword. Boric’s talent might delay it, but the outcome would be the same. Sweat dripped from the Duke of Freeport’s brow as he used both hands to grip his sword, doing his best to block both of Jaylen’s blades. Jaylen was like a cat toying with a mouse as he moved strategically to put his quarry into position, never underestimating Boric’s skill, knowing that overconfidence and foolish maneuvers would get even a master killed. Using a keen eye the elf watched for the right moment. Then he saw it: Boric’s arms raised enough to provide a brief opening at his side. Jaylen’s right sword swung under Boric’s, causing the blade to rise as Jaylen’s left hand directed his other sword into the direction of his exposed side. The blade pierced boric inches below his right armpit. As his body registered the shock of the steel entering his flesh, he failed to see Jaylen’s next move. The elf then buried his right handed sword to the hilt in Boric’s throat. The Duke of Freeport, the man who desired to be the High King of the Westland by any means necessary, collapsed to the floor in a lifeless heap of bleeding flesh as Jaylen jerked both swords free of the man’s body.

  Renald and Landis separated as they bounced off of the hard wall. The mage had ended up with the better position of the two as Landis’ back was to him. He withdrew his dagger and raised his hand intending to stab the half-elf from behind when he felt something hard strike his back, causing him to drop the knife as he stumbled against Landis. Landis fell to the floor from the impact. Turning around, Renald saw Natis’ mace clattering to the floor as the more inexperienced wizard from Lonia approached him. “You have betrayed the Tower.” Natis said as he came closer, using his hands to make the gestures necessary to form a spell to use against Renald.

  Renald was ready for this moment. Recognizing what Natis was doing, the red-robed wizard reached into one of the many pockets of his robe and produced a six-inch black wand. One that he had previously prepared with a spell that only required him to speak the prepared word to release the magic. He aimed it at Natis, ready to kill his opponent before the other could complete his own magic. Something shiny flashed in the corner of Renald’s right eye as he spoke the necessary word.

  Nothing happened. The mage looked down at the wand, but the wand was not there. And neither was his hand. Weslocke Blademender stood off to his side holding his axe, and where Renald’s hand should have been was nothing but the stump of his forearm. He saw his hand lying on the floor—his fingers moving on their own in an obscenely fascinating manner—then he heard Natis speak a series of words that only the two of them could understand. Natis’ hands were held out before him with his fingers all pointed at Renald. As he finished speaking, a string of white lights burst forth from his fingertips until they reached Renald. Spasms wracked Renald’s body from the impact of the energy, causing him to fall to the floor. Natis held on to the power as he directed it at his rival. This was the first time the mage had ever attempted this spell and he was not certain that he could do it. Ironically, it was Renald who had taught him this very incantation during their few days working together in Alexon. Renald had no time to consider the irony as his body cooked from the inside until everything went black. His body smoldered on the floor and no one could avoid the sickening stench of burnt flesh that filled the room.

  “Thanks, Weslocke.” Natis said to the dwarf.

  “Don’t mention it.” Weslocke replied, still looking at the dead mage.

  “I have done it!” Twaller exclaimed, as the broken staff hung down from the Gate of the Dragon on the opposite side of his staff. The image within the gate became clear. Everyone could now see the ancient white haired elf standing behind the crossbeams. The elf looked at the stone beams blocking his path, knowing at once that something was wrong. Sparks erupted from the socket containing the false white pearl. A burning smell wafted throughout the room, mingling hideously with the stench of cooked flesh emanating from Renald’s corpse. The light within the archway began angrily pulsating. The staff that had been carried down into the depths of this very tower three centuries earlier by Aaron Sergius began smoldering and fell away from the archway, leaving the now dull and cracked pearl resting in the socket.

  Artaexer—also known as Old One to Landis and Twaller—looked out at them with grave concern at this turn of events. “What happened?” Twaller asked no one in particular as he looked around the room, realizing for the first time that he was the only survivor of the four who intended to open the gate. Still, as long as he could see Old One he knew that there was hope.

  “The white pearl is a replica.” Artaexer—Old One spoke for the first time. He looked to where Seebaul stood at the far end of the room. “It appears that my betraying brother has found yet another way to cheat me.” He said from within the Gate of the Dragon.

  “It is you who cheated yourself when you chose to stay in league with the dragons.” Seebaul spoke in a manner than none of them had heard before. Gone was all semblance of the jovial and often eccentric elf that they had come to accept. Now his mannerisms and voice were elegant and meaningful. There was an aura of power and strength about him that had been hidden for untold centuries. “You should have rejected them as I did and returned to the ways of El-Jah as our forefathers had done before the time of the dragons.”

  Artaexer rejected his brother’s words. “You still speak nonsense. But it no longer matters. Once I am free to travel between the realms once more, I will put an end to you and your meddling. The dragons will rise again and I will take my rightful place as Elf Lord.”

  “There is no need for Elf Lords anymore.” Seebaul answered him. “And there is no need for you or your dragon magic. You seek to make slaves of this world and set yourself up as a god.”

  “Where is the white pearl?” Artaexer demanded, “I can feel its presence.” Looking about the room he stopped when he came to Landis. Seeing the hilt of the sword, which Landis had replaced in his sheath, he said, “Very clever, putting it into the sword used by the human who helped to defeat Bytorron. No wonder he was unable to locate it.” Ignoring everyone else in the room Artaexer spoke only to the half-elf, “Landis, you have always trusted me. It was I
who helped to save you. I gave you my bow to use and have helped to guide you. Do not believe the lies coming from my lost brother. Put the pearl of your sword against the broken pearl in the gateway and release me.”

  “Do not listen to him, Landis.” Seebaul insisted.

  Twaller stepped closer to the half-elf, “You know that you can trust him, Landis. Has he ever lied to you before?”

  Seebaul refuted the druid’s words, “Think clearly, Landis. What he has told you has been half-truths. He has told you only what he needs to reveal in order for you to do his bidding. It is no different than lies.”

  Artaexer was becoming irritated at this delay. He had waited too long to see his chance of freedom denied now. “Landis, do as I say or I will send beings into your world to come after it anyway. Just as I sent one of my servants on Twaller’s behalf to attempt to take the pearls before, only this time I will send hordes of them.”

  Landis did not have to imagine what type of beasts Artaexer was threatening him with. He knew that he had already encountered one: on the natural bridge crossing the Birhirmian River where Jandelie had died. Then the realization of the imprisoned Elf-Lord’s words hit him and Landis glared at Twaller Oakleaf. “You sent the Shadow-Beast after us?”

  Twaller raised his left hand trying to caution Landis, “I sent it to take the Pearls of the Elf Lords because I was afraid that you would lose them to the snow-elves. I had no idea that Jandelie would be hurt. You are the one who killed her, not me.”

  “You knew that the Shadow-Beast would devour the soul of the one it captured, cursing that person to live eternally as such a demon. No, Twaller, it was your hand that caused Jandelie’s death!” Landis rushed the druid, grabbing him and forcing him against the wall. Twaller was equal to Landis in size and strength and fought back. The two men traded blows as everyone else looked on. Jareel moved to assist Landis, but was restrained by Weslocke, who grabbed the plainsman by the back of his shirt with his uninjured hand. “This is Landis’ score to settle. Do not take it away from him.”

  Landis delivered a punch to Twaller’s midsection, doubling the druid over. Then Landis grabbed Twaller’s body and flung him aside. Twaller hit the wall next to a small wooden table before falling to the floor. There he saw Renald’s discarded dagger only inches away from his hand. Grabbing the blade he rose to his knees and flung it at Landis as the half-elf approached. The blade struck Landis in the left shoulder, causing him to flinch in pain. He heard Katryn cry out in alarm at the sight of his injury. Twaller rose to his feet, assessing his odds at grabbing Landis’ sword when they next grappled. Landis grabbed the hilt of the knife in his shoulder with his right hand. Remembering the Shadow-Beast as it held Jandelie tightly at the moment it was preparing to kill her, and seeing the image of her falling over the edge of the stone bridge with his own arrow in her right shoulder, Landis jerked the knife free. With a cry of anger he rushed Twaller Oakleaf, using the momentum of his body to slam the druid against the wall. Then Landis took the dagger and drove it deep into Twaller’s midsection. He jerked the blade savagely to the side, cutting Twaller’s belly open wide. Blood flowed over Landis’ forearm as he jerked the dagger free. Twaller’s insides began spilling out as he staggered forward and fell upon the table. Landis flipped the bloody knife in the air catching it in the reverse grip. Then he slammed the blade down into Twaller’s right forearm, pinning it to the table. The druid groaned in agony as he lay there.

  “Die slowly, you son-of-a-troll.” Landis spat, as he walked away from the dying man who had once been his friend. Looking to Artaexer he said, “And you can continue to rot in that realm forever.”

  Artaexer was not fazed by Twaller’s defeat. The human had been nothing more than a pawn in his efforts to escape all along. While Twaller had been lying to Boric and the others to enlist their aid, the Elf Lord had been doing the same all along to Twaller Oakleaf. Artaexer never intended to allow any human to keep one of the Pearls of the Elf Lords. He was planning to kill the man as soon as he was freed and take the Green-Pearled Staff from him. Artaexer and his granddaughter Triana would be the only ones who would wield this power. Now that the druid had inserted the staff into the portal, he was of no use to Artaexer anyway. So Landis had only succeeded in saving him the effort of killing the druid. “It is true that I cannot escape yet “The Elf Lord replied, “But I can still send others into your world.” As he finished speaking, Triana appeared at his side.

  Landis recognized the beautiful golden-haired elf that had saved him many years earlier. Even after all that had happened, he found it difficult to believe that she could be evil.

  “You remember my granddaughter, Landis. She has come to you before. Now she will do so again. But this time she will kill you.”

  Triana’s body slithered below the crossbeams of the gateway into their realm. As she stepped out from the archway her visage went from one of pure beauty to absolute horror. Triana’s gorgeous face and body turned into a walking, blackened corpse. Her rotting flesh hung loosely from her bones and her hallow eyes looked directly at the half-elf as she approached him.

  “H-how?” Landis was unable to finish his question.

  “She is not an Elf Lord,” Seebaul explained. “She was never given one of the pearls and properly ordained by the Dragon Lords. It is only the magic of Artaexer that keeps her alive. In this world his magic cannot hide what she really is.”

  Landis was revolted at the true image of Triana. He remembered too many intimate details about her to be able to accept the truth of what she really was. Triana sensed Landis’ hesitance. She grabbed the half-elf, shaking his body. “You should have done what we asked of you, Landis.” She said in a hiss-like speech. There was no trace of the melodic voice that Landis remembered. “And after all that I have done for you.” She mocked him as her fingers wrapped around his throat. Landis was unable to move. Whatever spell she had used on him had the same effect on everyone else in the room. All anyone could do was to stand and watch as the corpse-like woman strangled Landis. Seebaul was the only one unaffected by the magic. He did not choose to confront his grand-niece on his own. Instead he walked over to stand beside Katryn. “You see, this is what I meant. Remember what Landis has told you about his initial encounter with Triana. I know that you have heard the stories just as I have. Imagine the horror he will have of knowing the truth of what she is, and think about how that might affect your relationship with him when he discovers that you too are a creature of magic.” As he spoke, he placed his hand on her shoulder and said, “Now use the bow and save him.”

  When Seebaul lifted his hand, Katryn found that she was freed from the spell and able to move once more. She wanted to run to Landis’ side, but clearly understood what Seebaul had told her to do. This was the bow that had been given to Landis by Artaexer. Being the bow of the Elf Lord, it no doubt held special powers; which most probably included the ability to be effective on beings from the dragon realm. She remembered how an arrow fired by Landis had struck and injured the white dragon when the snow-elf had confronted them with it. Katryn grabbed an arrow out of the quiver and dropped to one knee. She readied the arrow and took careful aim, then released it. The arrow struck Triana, causing the creature to howl in agony as she released her grip on Landis’ throat. Landis pushed Triana away from him and drew the Sword of Alexon. Triana ran at him once more, inadvertently running her rotting body onto the blade. With a cry of woe, she crumpled and became dust, scattering throughout the room.

  “No!” Artaexer cried as he watched his granddaughter die before him.

  Landis fell to his knees, unable to hold his head up. The wound in his shoulder and the damage done to his throat by the magical being both took their toll on his body. That was compounded by the mental anguish he was suffering from all that was happening around him. Katryn rushed to his side. She placed her tender hands to his throat and thought of healing. She whispered softly to him, but Landis could not make out anything she was saying. He could feel his stren
gth returning and the horrors that filled his mind were lifting. Just as they had that night in the library in the castle at Alexon, the pain of the memories were gone. So too was the physical pain. When Katryn released her hold on him, Landis could breathe easily. His neck was fine and there was no pain in his shoulder. He craned his neck to look at the wound but could see no damage other than his blood soaked and torn shirt.

  “How?” He asked.

  Artaexer recognized Katryn for what she was. “Ah, one of my brother’s pets, a creature of magic just as my granddaughter ended up becoming.”

  Landis looked into Katryn’s eyes.

  “It is true.” She spoke softly, afraid of the reaction she would receive in return.”

  Artaexer laughed. “Such a tender moment, but there is work still to be done.” White snake-like beams of light came out of the gateway. Before Landis could respond in any way, the slithering lights wrapped around Katryn’s body and dragged her to the floor and back to the foot of the Gate of the Dragon. Jaylen and Natis rushed to her aid, only to be knocked away by other of the beams that wavered back and forth guarding the gateway. Artaexer then made his demand known. “You will either surrender the White Pearl to me or she dies. And I will then kill all of your companions in the same manner.”

  “Do not listen to him, Landis.” Seebaul insisted.

  Landis stood up. “What do you want me to do?”

  Artaexer felt victory within his grasp. “All that you have to do is hold the true pearl against the false one and the gate will open. Once done, I will release your lover and your friends.”