“It was a gift for the Centaurs, from my ancestors,” Reyna continued. “Under the light of the moon, the grass literally glows...” Nathaniel smiled and chuckled to himself. “Are you laughing at me?” Reyna asked playfully.
“It’s just a nice change to have you explain something that I already know about,” the knight replied with a coy smile. The elf poked him under the blanket and the two laughed some more.
There was clearly something building between the two, though whether it was beyond the physical, the ranger was yet to see. Asher was waiting for Faylen to intervene and separate the two, but her chastising never came. Instead, the elf stared into the flames of the fire with a grave look, a look the ranger had learnt not to take for granted.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
“We are not the only ones trying to find a peaceful solution to this war.” Faylen lowered her voice. “I worry about those that we cannot see, far from here. Every day I see ways in which Nalana’s prophecy speaks truth. With that in mind, I fear for Adilandra, Reyna’s mother. If she can rally the last of the dragons before the king does, and we can defeat Valanis in his frozen state, we can save so many.”
“Tell me of this prophecy,” Asher asked a little too loudly, causing Nathaniel and Reyna to turn around in their blanket and observe the conversation.
Faylen looked to Reyna. “The Princess knows it better than I.”
Reyna looked into the fire. “We call it the Echoes of Fate.” The princess cleared her throat. “These favoured elves fall and lose their way, as man’s anger devours all dragons’ fire. The immortal man is set to rise, bringing the dark one closer to his most dangerous desire.
Paldora’s celestial gem graces daylight sky, and in its beauty ordains calamity. Only alliance and trust between two shores offers an intimation of hope and a glimpse of eternity.
Children of fire and flame offer great promise, but only one perceives the time we will fall. As the gods recast their fortune and power, one will suffer the burden of destiny for all.”
Asher took a deep breath and raised his eyebrows, as he took it all in. Prophecies were like old history tomes; lengthy and full of shit. The ranger had met many folk who peddled such skills, and all turned out to be con-artists.
“You don’t believe in prophecies?” Reyna asked, having seen his sceptical expression.
“You have to believe in the gods to believe in prophecies,” Asher replied dryly.
“You sound like my father...” the princess didn’t sound happy about that fact.
“He doesn’t believe in it either?” Asher asked.
“No, which is even more ridiculous since it was his sister who spoke the words to him no less!” Reyna’s anger was was quick to rise, like so many of her elvish emotions.
“Nalana was his sister?” Asher felt his mind fighting through years of training and torment in Nightfall, trying to find the hazy memory that tugged at those words. “What’s your father’s name?”
“Elym... Elym Sevari,” Reyna replied with curiosity in her voice.
Asher ignored the princess’s look and continued to focus on the memory, slowly rising to the surface.
“But you can use magic.” Nathaniel returned the conversation to the ranger’s lack of faith, completely oblivious to Asher’s faraway look.
The memory gone, the ranger replied, “So? Magic is just another part of this world like this here blade of grass.” Asher plucked a blade of grass from beside him and held it up. “It doesn’t mean the gods put it there.”
“But her words have come true!” Reyna sat forward. “Nalana gave her prophecy before the Dragon War. These favoured elves fall and lose their way, as man’s anger devours all dragons’ fire. She told of how man would go to war with the dragons, and that our people would leave instead of staying and making things right.”
Asher shrugged, unable to dispute the events surrounding the Dragon War prediction. “Well I hate to inform you, but there is no immortal man. We’re lucky if we see seventy.”
“It’s probably not meant to be taken literally. Nalana’s probably referring to the immortal reign of man in these lands, and that their presence here will bring Valanis back to power.”
“Only alliance and trust between two shores offers an intimation of hope...” Faylen interjected. “Ayda... Illian.” The elf put her fist to her breast before placing it against Asher’s. “We might not understand every word of the Echoes, but some words are clearer than others. Only together can we free the world of Valanis’s evil.”
Asher couldn’t argue with the sentiment, even if he didn’t understand the concept of fate. The country would be crippled if the elves and men went to war, leaving the remains to be easily picked off by Valanis’s forces.
The ranger sighed, tired of arguing the points of something he knew to be ridiculous. “Let’s just get some sleep. We breach Elethiah tomorrow.”
The next day, the companions crossed The Unmar at its shallowest and continued south-west, until the marshes of Elethiah were in sight. Asher turned back to observe the lush green fields of the Moonlit Plains, before looking over the land that surrounded the ancient citadel. The surrounding fields had once been a part of the Moonlit Plains, and no doubt succumbed to the same enchantment that made the grass glow, but now there was nothing but swamp. The grass had grown long in the stagnant water, its healthy green now a pale yellow.
The city itself was a ruin. There was barely a tower that hadn’t been damaged or brought down in the last battle of the Dark War. Giant roots and monstrous weeds crept up the stained walls like the tentacles of a great squid. Buried under a thousand years of swamp growth, Asher could see various siege machines abandoned, before the Amber spell took hold. The sound of clashing steel and roaring beasts filled his mind once again, but he couldn’t place the memory.
Take this…
The ranger‘s mind worked furiously to place the memories that fought their way to the surface. He could hear a woman’s voice.
Hide it deep it in the forest...
The picture of his child-sized hand holding Paldora’s gem filled his vision.
Faylen’s voice cut through his reverie. “I have seen many paintings of Elethiah, but none like this. It was the jewel of Illian, they said. The greatest elven minds in the land came here to learn from each other.”
Ölli, the white owl, suddenly squawked behind Asher and flew away. Elaith and Nathaniel were slowly walking backwards, away from the citadel, taking no notice of the distressed owl. Their faces bore expressions of confusion with a hint of terror. The ranger looked at Reyna and saw that she too was taking a step back, her face contorted in disgust.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, concerned.
Faylen whipped around with him. “It’s the enchantments we placed over the land after the battle. The spells were designed to keep people away, through fear.” The elf dashed over and grabbed Reyna by the arm. “You can feel the magic in the air, yes? You can feel the spell worming into your mind. Fight it Reyna!” The princess couldn’t take her eyes off Elethiah. “I should have prepared her for this.”
The ranger walked over and put a strong hand on Nathaniel’s shoulder. Before he could say anything, the knight’s face dropped and he shook his head, as if waking from a dream.
“What’s happening?” the Graycoat asked.
Asher looked from Nathaniel to his hand on the knight’s shoulder. Paldora’s gem peered out from his fingerless gloves. The ranger quickly put his hand on Elaith’s shoulder and she too came back to her senses with a confused expression.
“It’s the ring!” Faylen cried. “Help Reyna.” The princess was starting to shake Faylen’s hands away in a desperate attempt to run away from Elethiah.
Asher walked over and touched the princess on the arm. The reaction was instantaneous and identical to the Graycoats, but its duration didn’t last. As Reyna came to her senses, both Nathaniel and Elaith became slave to the powerful enchantment again. Faylen and Reyna gr
abbed them both, holding them still with strong elven arms.
“Cast a spell over us, Asher.” Faylen struggled to contain Nathaniel. “Think of a shield, or a bubble, and cast it over us!” Reyna’s grip loosened on Elaith as the enchantment began to take effect on the elf again. “Quickly!”
Asher used Faylen’s simplified idea and thought of a protective shield covering all of them. He pictured the invisible spells attacking them and being repelled by the field he erected around each of them. When he opened his eyes, all four of his companions appeared to have regained their senses. Nathaniel looked to be embarrassed more than anything.
“As tombs go, it’s a damn good one,” Nathaniel observed.
They gathered at the edge of the swamp and judged the distance between them and Elethiah’s main gate. There looked to Asher to be about a half mile of swampland between them.
“Let’s take his head and be done with the place.” Asher set off first, leading the way.
The group trudged through thick mud and a foot of cold water traversing the swamps. The ranger had an uneasy feeling. He had spent a lifetime learning to listen to that extra sense, a sense that had saved his life more than once. The feeling of being watched came over him and he slowly reached behind his back for the folded bow. Behind him, he saw every one of his companions had similarly rested a hand on their weapon of choice.
The only sound came from the parting water, even the breeze had disappeared. Everything went still, too still. They had only covered half of the distance and still had a way to go.
Someone drew their sword behind him, having seen the threat before the ranger did. Asher didn’t need to turn around to see what had caused the alarm, however. The water broke gently all around them, as ancient elven warriors rose slowly out of the swamp. Some wore dark armour and ragged black cloaks, while others wore faded white armour with blue cloaks. Whatever their armour, they all had the same bloated pale faces, covered in dark veins. Some had terrible scars across their faces, while others were missing entire limbs. The dead continued to rise, as if a stone had been thrown into the swamp and created a ripple in the water. Asher watched as hundreds still rose from the dirty water in the distance.
The dead elves stared at the companions with blank faces and white eyes, drawing their scimitars. The ranger had already flipped the switch on his bow and notched an arrow. Everyone but Elaith, who drew her sword, had done the same.
“We cannot take on so many,” Faylen said with an edge of fear creeping into her voice.
The companions took several steps back and observed the dead halt their stride. Asher frowned, unsure if he had seen the reaction. The ranger took one step forward and the dead continued their approach.
“Step back!” Faylen warned. “The spell only works if walking towards Elethiah.”
“Well we can’t kill Valanis out here,” Nathaniel replied through gritted teeth.
“Run...” Asher whispered. The dead began to wade through the swamp towards them again. “RUN!”
The ranger burst into the quickest run he could manage in the swampy waters. The others had no choice but to follow him. The five ran across the swamp with all haste, firing arrows in every direction. The dead warriors ploughed through the water with steady rhythm. Almost every arrow found its mark, often striking the ancient elves in the head. If they were forced to the ground, they didn’t stay there long. With arrows protruding from eyes and necks, the dead continued to rise and stride towards the group.
Asher fired an arrow into the head of a white plated warrior, causing the elf to fall back into the water. As they charged past, the elf sat up in the swamp with Asher’s arrow still in its head. Elaith swiped her sword with a back-hand and decapitated the already dead elf. Still it rose from the water behind them.
“Keep running!” Asher cried.
The dead, elven warriors started to pick up speed as they got closer to the citadel. Asher noticed several to his left were starting to run through the swamp instead of walking.
Elethiah’s gates were nowhere to be seen, hidden beneath the swamp or blown to pieces by Adellum’s bow a thousand years ago. The giant archway was guarded by two sixty-foot stone elves, clad in armour. Over the years their details had decayed and one of them was missing its head, most likely destroyed during the siege. The companions ignored the exhaustion that clawed at their muscles and lungs, and ran between the two statues, into the shadow of Elethiah’s halls.
“They’re still coming!” Reyna shouted from the back of the group.
Faylen pulled everyone behind her so that she stood between them and the approaching horde of undead. The elf raised both of her hands to the arched ceiling and unleashed a barrage of brilliant blue lightning. The stone cracked and spread out across the arch in the style of a pane of glass. As she clenched her fists, Faylen pulled her arms down with dramatic effort and brought the entire ceiling down with the gesture. Large slabs of stone quickly filled the entrance and continued to build, until a new wall of debris barred the way.
They were dropped into darkness.
A minute passed while the companions waited to see if the wall of rock would hold the ancient elves at bay. Only the sound of their heavy breathing could be heard in the dark tunnel.
Asher’s senses exploded to life in the inky abyss. He could hear his companion’s heart beats and the individual drops of water falling from their bodies. There was no smell of fresh blood, offering relief that his friends hadn’t been hurt by any of the dead warriors. What he could smell surprised him. The ranger had expected to smell the decay of rotting bodies fallen inside the citadel, but he could only smell the damp moss. It wasn’t long before he found the reason for the lack of decay.
The ranger lifted his hand and conjured a ball of light, which floated above them, illuminating the tunnel. Faylen and Reyna did the same and offered more light to their situation. Asher walked over to the body he had discovered with his heightened senses, commanding the orb to follow him. The others gathered behind him to marvel at the scene.
“The Amber spell...” Faylen whispered.
An elf in black armour and cloak stood before them, perfectly preserved, in a running stance and a face filled with despair. His blonde hair was thrown out behind him, but frozen in place, along with his flowing cloak. It looked to Asher as if the elf was simply staying very still. The warrior had no markings or an aura about him to suggest why he wasn’t moving.
“He was running away,” Elaith observed.
“They all were...” Nathaniel was looking further down the tunnel, where dozens of elves were similarly frozen. It didn’t matter what colour their armour, all were fleeing.
“They’ve been stuck like this for a thousand years.” Reyna walked round the elf.
Asher removed his silvyr sword in the blink of an eye and cut the elf’s head from his body. The elf launched himself forward, as if continuing the run he had started a millennium ago, before his body collapsed to the ground and his head rolled away. Fresh blood poured from his gaping neck, suggesting he had never been frozen in time.
“Killing Valanis is going to be easier than I thought.” Asher sheathed his blade and turned for the tunnel, ignoring the looks of shock he was receiving.
“Follow me.” Faylen overtook Asher. “Elandril, in Ayda, was built in the same style as Elethiah, and all accounts from the battle state that Valanis was in the Hall of Life when the Amber spell was cast. If that’s the case, then we need to head into the centre of the city.”
Moving through the ancient city, it became clear that the Amber spell had kept everything inside the walls frozen in time, leaving the exterior to decay. Hundreds of elves dotted the interior, some frozen mid-battle, while others were left fleeing. Asher saw more than one child looking lost and distressed, as well as parents frozen in place, cowering in the corners with their child in their arms. The ranger was forced to walk around a frozen stream of blood that was spurting forth from the chest of a white armoured elf, after having jus
t been attacked by one of Valanis’s soldiers. The elf’s expression of pain and surprise had remained on his face for a millennium.
They climbed many stairs, as they passed between the different buildings and towers. The ranger was more than aware of the moving shadows that appeared to be following them - he had no doubt that the city was haunted by some creature that had been conjured up to keep people out. The silvyr sword never left his hand.
Faylen pushed open a pair of wooden doors, which creaked loudly in the empty halls. Asher stopped when he entered the new room, his legs refusing to go any further. They had entered a grand library with a tall ceiling and spiral staircases either side. Thousands of books and scrolls lined the bookshelves in the oval shaped room. A long wooden table ran the length of the library, connecting both sides of the room, where another set of double doors lay.
“What is it?” Nathaniel asked.
Asher looked at the four dead elves, each in black armour and cloaks. Three lay dead on the table and another lay dead on the floor, with a heavy book next to his body. Drops of blood remained frozen in mid-air, as they dropped off the table edge. The ranger didn’t know what to say. He had been in this room before, he had seen these four elves and the book... Asher knew that the book had hit the elf and distracted him long enough for another to kill him.
They all saw the distortion in the air at the same time. On the far side of the table, a visible ball of rippling air hovered over the floor. Thankfully, it distracted them from Asher’s reverie.
“What is that?” Reyna asked.
Asher bent down and picked up the book, before throwing it into the distortion. Elaith gasped when the book passed into the ball and froze in place, mid-air. The rippling air disappeared but the book remained frozen in time.
“It must be the Amber spell,” Faylen said. “It looks as if it’s fractured... strange.”
The feeling of being watched overcame the ranger again. He looked up to see his companions observing at him curiously. “Let’s keep going.” Asher walked ahead, happy to leave the disturbingly familiar scene behind.
Rise of the Ranger (Echoes of Fate: Book 1) Page 48