by Greg Curtis
Then finally the darkness was complete and his thoughts left the world to travel among the stars above for a time, and he knew no more. But to anyone lucky enough to have been watching, they would have seen his form being picked up and carried by an ethereal light shaped almost like a woman that emerged from his own body, to be laid down to rest on the deep soft grass near where his horses stood cropping contentedly.
They might also have seen, had they truly been lucky, that before she left the woman of light gently kissed him on the forehead before she left. A mother's kiss of undying love and gratitude as her son had returned home from the dark places where evil wandered.
Then they would have no doubt gone running to their priests, as they told tall tales of ghosts wandering among the hills. The people of Crossroads Shire were not a very accepting bunch, least of all of things they didn't understand.
Chapter Four.
“Respected Elders, old friends, good elves; my mother comes before you today with a warning.”
Lady Ammelia held the floor in the place of her mother; a place she had had long practice in holding. Being a foreteller and a spirit magic user, her mother could not enter the Council Chambers while the elders were in session. It was one of the elves' most ancient rules, stemming from the time of the first saplings, three or more thousand years before. A time when foretellers and other spirit magic users had been allowed to enter the debates, and the debates had been regularly confused by their spells.
Because of it Annalisse sat in the guest chairs outside the chambers with an honour guard, listening to her daughter's words and the elders' answers through the gaps in the double doors, while trying not to gnaw at her lip. It was a bad habit, very unelven, and one she had picked up more than seven decades before, but she couldn't seem to overcome it. Not since she had first become recognised as a foreteller, and from then on had had to listen to others speak for her. But Ammelia, her eldest daughter, not yet fifty, was a good speaker and quite capable of getting her words across. Given that, the lip gnawing was usually quite minor. But not this day.
This day Annalisse had to motivate an entire Council to prepare for war in a time of continuing peace. A war that would consume whole realms. This day she had to make them see the wisdom of letting humans and others and perhaps even dwarves enter their lands to stand and fight by their sides. And above all, this day she had to explain that an ancient enemy, long thought eternally banished, had returned to wreak havoc.
And all without even being able to speak a single word of it to the Council herself. By the time the meeting was over she knew her lips would be bloody strips.
“You have all seen the records of my mother's visions over the past few years. All elders across all elven lands have. You know that she has foreseen a time of great trouble ahead. A time when terrible wars will engulf the lands, elven, human, dwarven and others, like a great forest fire. A time when an enemy will rise up from nowhere and lay claim to the world as his own.”
“You also know that my mother is not alone in seeing this. All across the lands, foretellers have been reporting the same for three or more years. The Lady Mordice in the Haldorn Glades. The Master Bron Flaile of Whitestone Gorge, and many others.
“Though you may not yet know it, they too are on their way here even now, in the hope that once together, all the foretellers may act as one to pierce the veil of what has not yet happened and see the true nature of what lies ahead.”
That stirred a few heads among the Council elders as they looked at one another. Annalisse couldn't see it from where she sat outside, but she could imagine it. To suddenly realise that a number of the most illustrious elves in all the lands were coming to their small city must have come as a shock. To have the Prophetess Annalisse Brial Lon among them was a rare and special event so she kept discovering. One which would normally have the whole town turning out to see her – even though she hated it and always instructed that it not happen. This though was something more than a short visit by one foreteller.
“What you don't know is that seven weeks ago, my mother had another vision. One that was so vivid and powerful that it nearly killed her. The healers had to attend to her night and day for three long days after, and even now her health is not what it should be. She is barely a hundred and ten, but at times she looks like an old woman.”
“Daughter!”
Annalisse dropped her head into her hands in embarrassment at her daughter’s words, but only for a moment. She knew that she could not afford to be distracted. She had to hear what her daughter said, and more importantly, how the elders answered her. And though it was tempting to cry out and deny what her daughter had said, she would not do that either. Ammelia could not be distracted from her task. Besides, she knew her daughter was only giving voice to her fears though it was both painful and frustrating to hear.
Especially so when it was true. Ammelia took her role as her speaker to include protecting her mother, and she took it seriously. Thus any threat, any risk was unacceptable to her, and any injury or illness she regarded as a personal failure and something that could not be allowed.
When Annalisse had told her daughter and the rest of her family that she had to come to Hammeral, Ammelia had argued strenuously that she was too ill to travel so far. But once she had conceded defeat she had been the one to pack up the entire family including all her children and their husbands, and their children as well, to come with her. For company she said, but Annalisse knew the truth. It was for protection. The men were all capable soldiers in their own right, as was the body guard she had hand-picked to escort them all. Sadly they had never bargained on meeting three dozen bandits in a single gang, with a minor mage among them as well. But then neither had they expected to meet the strange human, Yorik.
But someone had.
Dressed like a wild heart and carrying a world of rage, pain and suffering on his shoulders, yet still a most noble creature, he was able to overcome even the most terrible burden of darkness to do his duty. He had been immune to magic and more dangerous with a sword than any other she had ever seen. He could move like the wind, and that sword of his was as invisible with speed as it was deadly, while all who attacked him were shown to be weak and slow. He was a true warrior.
He had come out of nowhere, and left for the same place immediately on fulfilment of his duty without ever having truly spoken with them in the three long days he had escorted them to safety. But even though he had revealed little Annalisse knew him in a way she didn't know others.
She felt him. She still had the conviction that his being there was not an accident. Whoever guided him – and he was guided even in his pain, of that much she was certain – had made sure that he was where he had to be when he was needed.
Annalisse sensed that his role in this matter had not ended and that she would see him again. And if he truly was a paladin as she believed, then perhaps the others of his Order might ally with the elves in the coming days. Certainly they would need that help, They would need all the help they could get as without it all would die. Elves, humans, the other races and even dwarves.
Against that her daughter's concern for her well-being, while both embarrassing and inappropriate was as nothing. All that mattered was finding the help they needed, preparing for the battles ahead, and trying to keep both kith and kin alive. And the first step in that long journey was to convince these elders of what was coming. Ammelia's telling them of her infirmity didn't help as far as she could see. But arguing about it would simply make things harder.
“In her vision my mother saw Hammeral and knew she must come despite the risk. For this is the place where the defence of all our people will begin. It is here that allies will meet, that councils will come together, and plans will be laid. And it is here that the final battle will be waged. A battle such as none of us will ever see again.”
“This will be a battle not between elves and dwarves as many of our younger warriors might dream of. Nor between the humans and any of th
e monstrous races they seem to regularly annoy. It will be a battle between whole realms. The realm of the living, and the realm of the dead. For the enemy is of the dead.”
“What!”
A dozen elders all began speaking at once, demanding an explanation for the impossibility they were being told, and even breaking Council protocols to do it. They had reason. Necromancy in all its forms was forbidden in all elven, human and even dwarven lands. One and all knew the cost of such evil magic and how it fed on the souls of the living and even the land itself. To hear that an entire realm of the dead was to be their enemy was almost too much to take in. Ammelia silenced the elders quickly with the raise of her hand.
“It is without question. The Dark One has finally given in to his own demons, and has started uttering the spells even he should know better than to let loose. His frustration at his long imprisonment has finally caused him to go mad, and there is now nothing he will not do to be free. To rule the entire world, or to destroy it.”
That though, was the part that Annalisse didn't understand. It was the only thing that made sense when she considered what she had seen in her visions. But it was a guess at best. She also wondered if their enemy might be something other than the Dark One? Someone hiding behind his name perhaps? But she couldn't see through that deception if it was one. And she couldn't imagine who or what could be so powerful as to do such a thing.
That was the trouble with her visions. What she saw always came true. But often it didn't happen in the way she thought it would, nor for the reasons she assumed. In the end she was mortal, and whoever sent her these visions, allowed for that weakness. She – and Annalisse was usually persuaded that it was the Mother herself – showed her the parts of the future she needed to see in order to bring about the desired end. But she sent with those visions little in the way of understanding. Annalisse had to work that out for herself.
But for the moment, whether it was the great demon or not, it was enough to use his name – which was why she had told her daughter to do so. Everyone feared the Dark One, even though no one knew anything about him save a few sensitives. After all, he had been locked away in his other worldly prison long before history had begun to be written. Some claimed that it was even before any of the peoples of the world had begun to walk it. That the dragons had sealed him away. None knew. But everyone knew that whatever the Dark One was, he was to be feared.
“To this end he has started drawing dark wizards and spellcasters of all races to him, bringing them into his prison at Haldesfort, and with them any demons they can summon. But even their great power is less important to him than their knowledge of necromancy. For with it he hopes to reach through fully to the greater world, raise an army of the undead, and use it to unlock his prison gates.”
“Is that possible?”
Elder Goril asked the question that they all should have wondered about, for the whole point of Haldesfort was that it was permanently locked from both sides. Created and warded by the dragons themselves, no mortal had the keys, or even knew where the locks were. How would the undead know?
“We do not know. But in the end it matters not whether he can free himself, at least to us. It matters only that he can raise such an army in our world to try it. That he will do this, is already a fact.”
“The first reports of the undead walking have begun to trickle in. It is only the beginning of a flood.”
“All of us – elves, dwarves, humans, the lessor races, even trolls and orcs – will have to fight as one against the army of the dead that our enemy is raising. An army that will only grow larger and more powerful as we grow weaker. An army that seeks not our conquest but our death.”
“And this will be the city where that battle begins.”
Ammelia fell silent for a moment, her words spoken. No doubt she was wondering whether to tell them the rest. She didn't want to Annalisse knew. But the silence gave the elders in the room a chance to discuss what they had been told and her daughter time to consider. But in the end they had to know it all. Annalisse knew it, she had persuaded her daughter of it, and eventually the chamber fell silent. She guessed Ammelia had raised her hand to call for it. She was good at getting others to respond to her gestures.
“There is one thing more you need to hear Elders. My mother has had one more vision. One both terrible and frightening. Hammeral will be the place where the fight back begins. It will be where the final battle is fought. But it will not survive the battles. At some point the dead will overrun it and the bodies of the fallen will feed the vultures.”
After that it was chaos, something Annalisse wouldn't have needed to be a foreteller to predict. The elders started panicking, talking among themselves in inappropriately raised voices, some even shouting, while Ammelia stood there in their midst, likely completely forgotten. It was likely the end of the meeting. After this would come the questions and the doubts. Could she be right? Was their fine city doomed? Or was it all some terrible jest? That was why she had wondered if she should have had her daughter speak the last. But in the end her daughter had said what had to be said. If they were to save the people the elders had to know what was to come.
And what was coming was death.
Chapter Five.
Genivere hurried across the clearing, trying as always not to show any haste. It was indecorous and people would have frowned at her. Children ran and laughed and played. Adults were more measured in their ways, and she was no child. Still, when the messenger had come and told her that her presence was requested by Annalisse Brial Lon, it had set her pulse hurrying a little.
She was surprised to have been summoned by the elder. More than surprised. She was just an acolyte, too young and inexperienced to yet have been granted the rank of priestess or to have made a name for herself. And if all she had wanted was an acolyte there were many others like her in Hammeral. The elder could have chosen any of them to do her bidding – whatever it was. But of course she hadn't. She was a foreteller and whatever she did she did because she knew it was for the best. Therefore she had a reason for calling her and not any of the other acolytes.
Unless of course she was just being awkward.
Many did say that she was just that. That she enjoyed making people's lives difficult from time to time. None though would ever say that to her face. Not even Avenall Alloeshall though he had cause.
As part of her duties as an acolyte Genivere was normally attached to the thirteenth rangers under Captain Ysabel, but when they were in the city her duties were often extended to other ranger patrols. So she had spoken with the fifth Hammeral rangers a few days before as she had tended to their horses and listened to the rangers “talking” about their patrol. Complaining albeit quietly was closer to the truth.
First they had encountered a wild heart barbarian in the Hammeral forest, something that shouldn't have happened and which had somewhat alarmed them – as it should. The stories of such people were more than terrifying. So why the elder had brought him to their land was far from certain. Surely they should have thanked him for his service and then gone their separate ways. Then the wild heart had somehow managed to insult the captain openly. And as if that wasn't enough the patrol had then been given the difficult duty of escorting the elder and her family back to the city. A duty made more onerous by the elder's complete disregard for protocol.
She'd told them off if they dared to refer to her as her standing demanded. She'd berated them when they tried to feed her before the children. And while she'd changed the patrol's mission as she'd insisted that they bring her and her family back to the city, she'd refused to explain what was so important that she had to reach Hammeral so quickly. Or what had brought her all the way from the Saravaile Forest across dangerous country in the first place. So the captain had been left with a difficult ride, unanswered questions and an unfinished patrol. Needless to say he hadn't sounded happy about it, and since the wild heart wasn't around to blame, a lot of his unhappy words had fallen on the elder.<
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A wild heart! Just the thought sent a shiver down Genivere's spine. It disturbed her so greatly that she almost failed to smile and nod politely to Aros Anos, the leader of the satyr trade caravan that had arrived in the city. Despite the fact that she quite liked the trader.
Many didn't like satyrs. They considered them too simple and not properly educated. They whispered that the horns on their heads and the hair on their legs were the marks of beasts. But she liked them. Maybe that was because she was one quarter dryad. She was used to dealing with other peoples. Either way Aros Anos was a friendly sort with a welcoming smile, and his wares were good too. He certainly had some of the freshest of the herbs she needed for her work.