The Revenge of the Elves

by Gary Alan Wassner

  “Is it our Quest or my brother’s?” Tomas asked. The visions were getting more frequent. As a child, he had the sight. It was familiar to him. But he also had Ormachon to guide him. The music rang in his head most of the time now, but it didn’t help. It didn’t help. “He and I can’t meet yet. We’ve been told this over and over.” He pulled his horse’s head away from the water. It whistled over the rocks as it flowed and it hurt his ears. “He’s the heir.” Only a few knew otherwise. “Sidra offers us protection but no advice, and Premoran’s nowhere to be found.” Preston and Elion joined him and they left the stream behind, heading south still. “Ormachon told me he was willing to sacrifice me if necessary.” He accepted that. Almost. “And here we are, wandering the countryside, not sure whether to go to Gwendolen or Tallon or Pardatha.” I need to do more. Time is running out. I know. How can I tell them that? How?

  “What is it you would want, Tomas?” Elion asked. They’d never seen him look so uncertain before. “A map? Someone to lead us and tell us what to do? We’re trying to find answers that will help later on. There’s no rule book for it.”

  “Ormachon said we should seek the page that was torn from the Tomes. Is that not enough of a directive?” Preston countered, frustrated. “He even told us where to look. What more would you want?”

  Tomas shrugged as if it didn’t matter any more. “The trees are dying and Colton’s power is growing.” That’s what mattered. And he was doing nothing to prevent it. Power… what good if I can’t use it? The darkness is coming. What should I do?

  “Would you want to challenge him directly now?” Preston quipped. He wasn’t serious.

  “Maybe!” Tomas mumbled. “Sometimes I think the trees have lost their way, like my father did.” Father? I’ve never called him that. He remembered what Esta told him, how he let so much happen. “And, if they have, then every moment we lose is one we’ll regret.” But what am I to do? I don’t know what to do. “And yes, Elion, a map would be nice. What’s so wrong with wanting that?” He sounded less desperate than he felt.

  “Nothing at all,” Elion replied. “But we don’t have one.”

  “Maybe the missing page will give us a clue as to where we should look,” Preston said. “It’s got to tell us something important. Tomas, we have a reason for doing what we’re doing,” he repeated.

  A reason. Tomas hung his head lower and spurred his horse on as a light rain began to fall. Within minutes, it became a deluge.

  “We’d best seek some shelter while this lasts,” Elion shouted over the noise of the storm.

  “There’s a place over there where we can wait it out,” Preston pointed ahead. He led them into a thicket overhung by one enormous tree whose dense branches kept most of the water from reaching the surface.

  “Good choice, Preston,” Elion said when they were under it. “At this rate, the forest will be flooded. It’ll be slow going for a while. We have no choice but to rest.”

  “Listen,” Tomas whispered. “Listen to the rain.” A reason. It’s up to me. The power surged inside of him. The music rang in his ears, silence right beyond it.

  The rain was pooling up in front of him. The surface wasn’t absorbing it and the water sat on top of the soil like a window into the earth. Tomas dismounted and kneeled down beside it. The pool swirled but its surface remained flat and unmoving. He felt a thump against his chest. The ring. He grabbed it as an image formed in the water. Power. It sucked at the air. What can I do with it? Tell me. Tell me.

  Tomas dar Gwendolen, they all heard the words at the same time. Prince Elion of Lormarion and Preston Daggerfall.

  “Did you hear that?” Preston asked.

  “Hush,” Elion raised his finger to his lips. “Watch, listen.”

  You carry the ring. How is that you have the heir’s ring? the voice asked as a face materialized on the placid surface.

  “My brother has his own.” Power. You felt it. You heard me.

  Brother? There are two of you?

  “Yes. Davmiran bears the gold ring and I the silver.”

  Two boys and two rings. It was a female voice. I remember. A human, a dwarf and an elf. The words were physical. They felt them. Have you found the Gem?

  “No.” How can you help me? he thought. You don’t even know this.

  Her hair was long and ash gray and it floated all around, framing her features. Green eyes pierced the surface and sparkled like emeralds. Lavender robes billowed out from her thin body.

  The cycle is unbroken. He has not sundered the world. I remain.

  “Who are you?” Tomas asked. He felt the energy of her presence but it was unlike anything he felt before. He couldn’t touch it.

  Calista. I was Calista, the woman said as if reminding herself.

  “The Lady of the Island.” Elion reached out his hand toward the image.

  Yes. That is who I was. A name, a shape, a past. Her voice haunted the space. My time ended. Silence. Why have you summoned me?

  “I didn’t,” Tomas replied. Did I? Is it you I’ve been seeking?

  The image blurred and they strained to hear her.

  “Don’t leave us,” Elion pleaded. He looked at Tomas. “We have questions.”

  Questions? Her features sharpened.

  “We seek the Gem of Eternity. We don’t know where to look.” Elion spoke as fast as he could, worried the opportunity would pass. “Will the page from the great book help us on our Quest?”

  The page? There was no recognition in her voice.

  “The one stolen by Caeltin D’Are Agenathea?” Tomas reminded her. Water rippled over her face. They couldn’t see it. Tomas’ body tensed. No. Not yet. Don’t go. Ahhh… Power. Tomas’ hand went to his head. The air crackled.

  The image came back into focus, pushing up and out of the water.

  I had not read it. None of us had. Like the map, it was not meant for our eyes. He tried too. He could not see it. Her voice was harsh and soft at the same time.

  “Will it help us, do you know?” Elion pressed her.

  Help? The word seemed to lack meaning. When the smallest grain of sand stirs, all else shifts in response.

  Her image was clear, piercing. It hovered in front of them. Her lips didn’t move but they heard the words nonetheless.

  Time goes by and by and by,

  death and birth and death and birth and death and birth.

  Step upon the clay just once and shape thereby this hallowed earth,

  A solitary tear may fall

  upon a distant star,

  In darkness deep a child may call,

  from places neither near nor far.

  Beware lest you yourself become

  the one who grabs but never grasps,

  the one who cannot see the sum

  for the things that happened in the past.

  A tree may fall in a desolate wood,

  A wave may wash a distant shore,

  A wish may ne’er be what it could,

  A child may yearn for more and more,

  Be not so bold as to assume

  that all will be as it should be soon,

  if actions speak with words unheard,

  be not dismayed along the road,

  ‘tis not the thought that fulfills the need,

  the answer lies within the deed.

  Find the truth you dare to dream

  upon the page no one has seen.

  A large drop fell from the tree branch above and landed in the middle of the pool, sundering the image. The water grew still once more, but their own faces were all that stared back at them.

  Chapter Forty-eight

  “Blodwyn, Chosen of Lilandre, awaits an audience, your Highness,” the guard announced after Bristar pulled the heavy door open.

  “Well, don’t keep her waiting then,” he stiffened. “How long has she been here?” He rubbed his tired eyes with the back of his hand. This visit was unexpected.

  “She arrived a short while ago. I came right away to inform you.”<
br />
  “Ah, good. I was dozing. I thought perhaps you didn’t want to disturb me,” he was relieved. “Send her in.” He left the door open and waited in the entryway.

  The rustle of robes and the bang of her staff on the stone floor resounded in the hallway as the Chosen made her way to the King’s study.

  Like a Queen herself, she held her head high on her sculpted neck and looked straight ahead, her eyes fixed on her destination.

  “You should have sent word of your coming. I would have had someone meet you at the gates.” He stepped to the side and let her enter. “Welcome to Crispen, Chosen.”

  “Should I have?” Her responses were never simple. “It’s good to see you,” she said before he could respond again. Her eyes scanned the familiar room and her features softened. The King followed her inside and closed the door. “How long has it been?”

  “Too long,” he replied. The fewer the Chosen, the fewer the visits. Resolute, he forced such thoughts out of his mind. “What brings you here, so far from your residence and Lilandre’s company?”

  “I have the need to travel now more than ever before. This is a difficult age for us.” Her eyes had a fevered shine to them. She gave away more than usual in so few moments.

  “For us all, Chosen,” Bristar replied. She was preoccupied. Something serious brought her here.

  “Yes, of course. For us all,” she agreed, flushing at her thoughtlessness. “I have news, Bristar.” She paused. “And I need your advice.”

  “So there will be no small talk between us then,” Bristar smiled. “Will you at least sit and share a glass of wine with an old friend?”

  “Certainly. Forgive me, Bristar. Where have my manners gone to?”

  She is not herself. “Sit, Blodwyn. Rest your legs,” Bristar waved to the high backed chairs fronting the tall, leaded window. Tired. Disturbed. What news has she for me?

  Blodwyn removed the brooch securing her cape and swept it over her shoulders, tossing it on one of the empty seats. She balanced her staff in the crook of the chair’s arm and sat down. After she was seated he took his place beside her.

  “The last time I sat here there was a third chair and another person present,” Blodwyn recalled.

  Is this about my son? “I remember the moment well,” he frowned.

  “Beolan has since become all we hoped he would that day. His exploits in the mountain are talked about everywhere.” Her expression was blank despite her praise.

  “He honored us all. We’re free of the Armadiel and he recovered the key.” She wasn’t a woman who minced words. If she had something bad to tell him about Beolan, she would have gotten to it right away.

  “Yes, I know,” Blodwyn nodded. “We have no eyes in the far west. Have you heard from him since he left?”

  “No.” Bristar shifted uneasily in his seat.

  “Don’t despair. He has proven his ability, and he has a good friend in Maringar Daggerfall. They will return soon, I am confident.”

  “Who would have thought?” Bristar said.

  “The fabric weaves of its own will. We must be thankful for whatever alliances present themselves to us. It brings us hope to see the races unite against the Dark One.”

  Bristar reached over to the table beside him and poured two glasses of wine. He handed one to Blodwyn and raised his own before him.

  “May the First guide them and keep them,” he toasted.

  Blodwyn raised her goblet high, clicked it against his and took a long sip.

  “Your wine is as good as I remember it,” she said, sinking back into the chair. She placed the goblet on the table and dropped her hands into her lap.

  “Now, tell me what it is that brings you here?” Bristar asked, leaning forward, his elbows on his knees.

  Her eyes darted to the window and then back again. “As you know, Colton has dispatched a massive force against Tamarand,” she began. “We believe that he hopes to draw Robyn, Chosen of Promanthea, into the battle by attacking his homeland and his father.”

  “We have sent the greater part of our army to their aid already. As you must know, Phero was here and advised us of the impending attack. Both my brothers did the same,” Bristar sat up straighter, his eyes bright. The Three Kingdoms spoke with one voice again after so many years.

  “Yes, they did. Calipee is fortunate. He would be overwhelmed otherwise. Now the odds of repelling the attack are much better.” Her face was strained. “You should know the force he sent into battle is larger than any we could have anticipated. It is led by one of the Possessed.”

  She was tentative. Something worried her. He saw it. She blames herself, the Chosen. My soldiers are at risk. “Life means nothing to him,” Bristar scowled. War means death.

  “Less than nothing,” she replied. “He will sacrifice whatever serves his purposes. Yet, we must resist with all our might.”

  “And we shall, Chosen. We shall,” Bristar said. How many will not return this time? he wondered.

  “I’m confident Robyn will remain true to the Quest and not succumb to the desire to assist his father, though the temptation will be enormous.”

  The Chosen were raised to resist such challenges. The bond gave them strength. But it also gave them power. Bristar knew Robyn dar Tamarand. He knew he would not simply do nothing.

  “It must be incredibly difficult for him to remain apart from this confrontation. What a terrible choice he is being forced to make,” Bristar replied.

  “In all our actions there is choice,” Blodwyn replied. “Our memories deceive us. We can turn the pages of our lives in only one way and thus we must always choose. Once it is turned, there is no going back.”

  Regret? From you? What are you struggling with, Blodwyn. “It’s not the memory but the mind set, Blodwyn. One should act so that they need not regret the path they have chosen.”

  “I can always count on you. There are so few others…” she patted his hand.

  “But you still haven’t told me why you are here. Surely you didn’t come all this way to tell me facts about an army I already knew?” He leaned in close to her.

  Blodwyn reached for the wine and sipped it again. She looked him square in the face. “Never before has Colton challenged a Lalas and its Chosen so directly.” Her face stiffened. Her eyes were etched with pain.

  “You fear he will confront Promanthea himself?” Bristar recoiled. This was unexpected. He stared, mouth agape.

  “Yes.”

  The room felt suddenly hot, its ceiling much lower, its walls closing in. Bristar flushed. “Why are you telling me this?”

  “Because we need your help.” She would not release his gaze.

  “My help? What can I do?” This was worse than he imagined.

  “Yes,” she said, her hand on his once again. “Or the help of someone most dear to you.”

  “I can’t imagine what you mean.” He shifted nervously in the chair and stared at the far wall. She can’t mean… No. I won’t speak of this. I will not.

  “I suspect you do, my friend.” Blodwyn’s face was stern but her voice was gentle.

  “Beolan is not here. There is no one else in Crispen who can help us in these matters now.” He evaded her remark. I cannot do it. I cannot.

  “I would like to talk to Aliya,” she whispered. “I wouldn’t do so without your permission. It won’t be easy for her.” Her eyes were sympathetic.

  “My wife? But why, Blodwyn? What could she possibly tell you?” How does she know? I cannot….

  “It’s not what she could tell me. If what I believe is true, I must ask a favor of her.”

  “A favor? Of Aliya?” He refused to concede. “I don’t understand why this is necessary.”

  “You’re not a good liar, Bristar.” Her lips turned up in a half-smile. “You love her very much, I know. You’d like to continue to keep this secret between yourselves. Your son does not even know, does he?”

  It’s too late. She knows too much. Aliya? What will you do? Bristar’s head hung bet
ween his shoulders. His beard nearly dusted the carpet beneath his feet. “If it must be, it must be.” His voice was tired, worn out. He raised his head. “I knew this moment would come someday.” He paused. The lines in his face deepened. “No, Blodwyn, even Beolan does not know. How did you figure it out? We’ve been so careful all these tiels.”

  “My inklings began a while ago, and then Lilandre inspired me to dig further into them. Until this very moment, I was still unsure,” she admitted.

  “So if I had been a better actor, her secret would still be safe?” The irony didn’t escape him.

  “For the time being.” She was gracious. “But now it may be that the safety of us all hinges upon the disclosure of this information and not its concealment.”

  “Must anyone else know?” He held his breath.

  “They will find out,” Blodwyn replied. “It’s just a matter of time.”

  “What do you want to ask of her, though I suspect I already know?” he whispered.

  “I want her to contact her sister.”

  Chapter Forty-nine

  A lone trumpet blew. The earth trembled and hearts stopped beating. Tens of thousands marched blindly from Sedahar across the dry plains, through the deserted forests and over the barren valleys. They didn’t stop for food or rest, yet none collapsed from fatigue or succumbed to hunger or thirst. They marched and marched. Their feet pounded the ground, shook the firmament, and raised a horrific noise, so loud it hurt to hear it.

  Those in the army’s path fled if they could. The unfortunates who remained too long to escape, gathered their children, their pets and their livestock, locked their doors and shuttered their windows.

  They waited for death to come.