by Ben Marshall
“Why do you dare to enter Nature’s Realm, cousin Elf, especially in the company of a Man?” The voice was soft, yet there was no mistaking the threat.
“Because the risk of your killing us was far less than the threat of the panthers,” was the response, Lonariel’s hand ready to grip his blade from where it lay, “as you can see the two of us are wounded, and would be no match for the beasts that stalk the crags.”
“That is no excuse for your secrecy, though your fire showed you to us. The Destructive Races aren’t tolerated under any excuses, and you must now face the consequences of your actions.” The unseen speaker stepped into the light, his face set as he looked down at the explorers. Flanked by four other Forest Elves, all of them clad in pale silver chain mail under dark green cloaks, and with bows held in their hands and swords in scabbards on their belts, he was indeed an imposing sight. Struggling to rise, his legs shaking beneath him from fatigue, Farim reached for his broadsword, but it was easily knocked away by the sabre that the Forest Elf held within his own gauntleted hand.
“Such displays are foolish, human, as you are to be taken to the Lady Halarniel, who shall pass judgement on your fate,” the Elf told him with a smile at the pitiful display. Lonariel also rose, his own blade held ready to challenge them, but the two Elves upon the speaker’s left turned away his weapon and struck him with the pommels of their keen sabres, the others laughing with disdain at the show.
“Enough; you will come with us now. Relinquish your weapons!” Gauntleted hands tore the long blade from the Fire Elf’s grip, while others removed the Lebrusktan’s broadsword and twin daggers. He tried to draw the knife from his boot, but it was kicked away before he could wield it, and he received a resounding blow from the Forest Elf’s knee as punishment. Their packs were slung over the shoulders of the speaker, with little attention to the fragile nature of Lonariel’s potions, and the two of them were forced to march through the dark woodland in single file, the light from the fiery blade extinguished.
The trip lasted several hours, though the mail-clad Elves kept the pace high, and each step was a strain for the exhausted explorers, Farim’s wounds having barely started to heal and every part of the Fire Elf aching from his heavy bruising. The Forest Elves didn’t seem to notice the extent their captives were suffering, or perhaps it was that they simply didn’t care, and didn’t cease prodding the pair whenever they started to falter. Halfway through the journey the clouds began to disperse, allowing the pale light from the moon and the stars to bathe the group through the foliage overhead, so that the stumbling travellers, particularly the limping human, could avoid the many roots and occasional inclines that littered the forest floor. One such slope, caused by the roots of several spruces bursting from the soil and dislodging a large portion of earth, remained dubious due to the sheer drop at the beginning and the loose dirt that covered the rest of it, and Farim had to be helped by Lonariel and the Forest Elf who had spoken to them. Though the time was perfect to have attacked him the two companions knew that the other Elves would have swiftly cut them down had they dared, and they all reached the base with ease.
The journey finally concluded with the group entering a clearing, the straight-backed trees that formed the circular perimeter glistening as the moonlight was reflected by the dew of early morning, with the sun still a long way from reaching the eastern horizon, and the party came to an abrupt halt. A solitary hardwood stood at the clearing’s epicentre, towering above all other greenery within the surrounding forest, its branches stretching towards its brothers outside the perimeter. Similarly those that formed the boundary just fell short of touching the leafy fingers, and the silver glow of the moon and stars fell in a ring through the gap and streaks where the foliage was thinner, so that the light barely penetrated the gloom beneath the hardwood. All that could be seen within the shadow was the hem of a set of dark green robes, made visible against the grass only by the protruding boots of light brown, before a similarly coloured thick cloak was twitched over it. Though nothing else could be seen of the being, neither of the travellers could miss the obvious power of whoever sat there. Indeed the Forest Elves who had escorted the captives from the location of the plaque bowed in reverence before a signal, given by the movement of a staff from a second concealed figure judging by the position the action originated from, made the Elf who had led them take a few steps forward.
“Are these the ones that have disturbed our sanctuary, Chief of the Western Boundary?” The voice of the concealed speaker, unmistakeably that of an Elven woman, had within it the musical tone of a breeze’s soft whispering among the boughs of trees, and there seemed a oneness between her and the forest that surrounded them that the Elf who had ordered the disarmament of the explorers lacked, though his tone was simply a masculine variation of hers.
“Indeed they are, Lady Halarniel. I have brought them here for your decision as to their fate, as you commanded.” The Elf bowed again, his right hand held across his heart while his left tapped the hilt of his sabre.
“You and your fellow Wardens have done well, and you have my gratitude,” Halarniel responded, causing the Elf to bow lower before a signal from the staff made him withdraw swiftly backwards to stand at the head of the group once more. Another signal from the staff and the Wardens pushed Lonariel and Farim forwards; their hands making the captives kneel before the concealed Matriarch of the Forest Elves.
“The two of you know why you have been taken before me; now tell me of your names. You first, Elf of Fire; speak!”
“My name is Lonariel, My Lady, and I am a Loremaster for my nation, sent by the Council to discover the fate of the Dwarf-kin race known as Kuhiar. The human beside me goes by the name of Farim Dumary, and is a mercenary I hired for protection in the land of Lebruskt.”
“Why were you sent to learn of the Kuhiar, when until now your Council have accepted them as deceased? Your cooperation may yet save you from facing the full penalty for entering our lands unbidden, so do not give me such half-portions of information.”
“There were concerns raised by my mentor, who believed that trouble was stirring.”
“Did you not hear the Lady Halarniel?!” cried the second hidden speaker, brandishing the staff slightly in exasperation. He also appeared to be of Elven heritage, and seemed to possess a similar bond with the forest to the Matriarch’s, though his manner suggested a blood relation rather than marriage to Halarniel.
“Calm down,” she quietly reprimanded him, her whisper barely reaching the ears of Lonariel before she turned her attention back to him, her voice sterner although it maintained its softening calmness.
“Who was your mentor, who would give the Council of Fire reason to send you into such peril as you were thrust?”
“He once was Santelion, yet now walks under the name of Katchanga…” the Loremaster paused as the Forest Elves began to whisper excitedly among themselves. Though he couldn’t distinguish the words, he concluded they were talking about his mentor. Halarniel, or at least the shadowy figure he assumed to be Halarniel, bent to engage her relative in silent and earnest discussion. Many minutes passed before the matter appeared to conclude, and the woman known as the Lady of the Forest rose to her feet before stepping into the moonlight.
She was true to Elven form, almost two metres in height with a lithe and slender body, her pale face beautifully framed by cascading blonde hair that covered her shoulders and reached comfortably halfway down her back, smoothed into place by a circlet of what could be gold, though the moon made everything of silvery hue. Her eyes were also pale, possibly turquoise but definitely a light colour, and seemed to be of infinite depth as she looked into the emerald eyes of the Fire Elf. She seemed to glide rather than walk, with only the toes of her boots showing beneath the folds of her robes as she walked to stand just a few inches from Lonariel and Farim, and the human looked with awe at the leader of the Forest Elves.
“Much is known to me of Katchanga, a being who has known all manners o
f torment and reward, and he is held in great esteem by my people and I. He is one of the woefully few who uphold the Order, and holds higher favour with Nature than any who walks, has walked and ever shall walk the realms of this world. It was rumoured that a destructive being had been selected for his pupil, yet not even the wisest of us thought it to be one of your nation. The Fire Elves are so imperfect, their spirits as fiery as their enchantments, and your kin have often been blown out by the winds of desire. Yet it would appear that Katchanga believes you to be different.” She extended her hand, and touched Lonariel’s face, running her hand over his small scar thoughtfully.
“Your blemish burns at my touch although it appears almost as old as you are. I sense that great power caused it, and brought about the wound’s repair.”
“Katchanga performed both tasks, and I do not consider it a blemish,” the Loremaster responded with sudden intensity, surprising himself as much as Halarniel at the fury behind his words. “What it signifies is of great importance to my soul.”
“That I can understand better than you would think,” the Matriarch responded with quiet sympathy, her tone seeming to be echoed by the breeze that gently ruffled the golden robes of the Fire Elf, “and it has often been surprising how pain can mean as much as…love.”
She let the matter drop, and walked back into the shadow cast by the hardwood, summoning with a turn of her hand that the head of the group that had escorted Lonariel and Farim to the clearing. After a swift exchange of words, in which Halarniel seemed to ask several questions of her subject, she turned back to the Loremaster and spoke again.
“My Warden has informed me that the two of you were on foot within the mountains, though you have come too far for that to have been the case throughout your journey.”
“It is true, My Lady, and the two of us were mounted until we reached the Western entrance of the Kuhiar kingdom. However the subterranean passages are no place for a horse, let alone the winged steeds of my people, and we had to send our respective mounts back to wait outside the hall of Brietrin Doomhammer until our return.”
“A brave decision, yet though you approached it with wisdom the idea was foolish. You knew not what awaited you, and the speed of the noble creatures would have been vital had you been forced to flee.”
The Lady of the Forest closed her eyes briefly, searching for an answer to the question she had silently asked herself: What happens now? Though Lonariel and Farim had trespassed into their realm, they had appeared to have little choice judging by the extent of their injuries. More than that, they had only been within the mountains at the behest of Katchanga, a being she considered greater than all others that existed by the will of Nature.
“I understand the gravity of our actions, entering your realm as we did, and I am prepared for any choice you make as to my punishment,” the Fire Elf responded quietly yet strongly, remembering the reason why he and his companion had been brought to the clearing, “but I ask that you reserve judgement on my friend until he has overcome the fever that now still grips him.”
“Noble words, Elf of Fire, and I must admit I was considering that very point. I shall choose to believe you when you say that you understand the severity of your crime, and shall be lenient. I shall also choose to believe that you were here because of the noble Katchanga, and therefore my decision shall be thus; You shall remain in this clearing until the morning, and I suggest you sleep during what time you have. Upon waking you shall be taken from this forest and escorts shall guide you to the hall of this…Brietrin Doomhammer, where you may reclaim your mount. After that I suggest you take whatever action needs to be carried out before you are free to return home and report your findings to your Council.”
“I thank you, My Lady, for your generosity, but what of Farim?”
“He shall remain here until his wounds have healed sufficiently for him to make his journey to the Dwarven hall, unless during that time he should commit another crime.”
Halarniel took her leave of those present, exiting the clearing with her relative after giving the leader of the Wardens a final order. He returned to his fellow warriors, whispering the instructions before also disappearing into the gloom within the forest that surrounded them all. The Forest Elves left behind bent over the Lebrusktan, helping him away to a different area of their land. Lonariel settled down as best he could, his mind swirling with thoughts and reflections on the meeting, but it didn’t take many minutes before he had drifted into a dreamless slumber, his body too exhausted to remain awake longer.
Many Questions, Few Answers
September 9th, 1190
Lonariel stirred as the day settled into a lazy afternoon, indicated by the position of the shadows from the forest and the solitary hardwood he had lain against during his slumber. The sun glinted through what few gaps it could find in the dense foliage, and only the sounds of birdsong could be heard within the still and silent region. At first the Loremaster believed last night to have been but a dream, such was the tranquillity of his surroundings, until he realised that Farim was nowhere to be found. More unusual, though not unpleasant to discover, was that one of the Forest Elves had applied a salve to his bruises and cleaned the blood from his tunic and robes, which were hanging over one of the hardwood’s lowest branches. Walking slowly to retrieve the garments, enjoying the warm and lazy breeze that swirled across his chest, he noted with pleasant surprise that the bruises had faded almost entirely and were no longer painful to the touch. Donning his clothes, he started with shock when a laugh erupted from the trees that formed the perimeter of the clearing, the airy nature of the voice showing the onlooker to be an Elf of the Forest.
“You Elves of Fire are certainly heavy sleepers, since Lady Halarniel told you to be gone in the morning and it is already several hours beyond noon.”
The speaker allowed another laugh to escape him as he dropped from the bough he had been sitting upon, his sabre rattling in its sheath and a longbow falling from his shoulder to his hand at the impact, though he landed catlike in a crouch with only his toes touching the soft grass beneath him. It turned out to be the Chief of the Western Boundary, the Elf who had been in charge of escorting the explorers to the meeting last night.
“If you are ready we can start on our path. The escort party is waiting for us at the edge of the forest, and we shall eat there.”
Without a further word the Warden walked away leaving Lonariel jogging to catch up, though he needed have bothered because the Forest Elf paused at the edge of the clearing and reached into a hollow within the trunk of the nearest tree. With a casual toss the warrior sent the Loremaster’s blade through the air towards its owner, before reaching in again to withdraw a longbow.
“Lady Halarniel noted yesterday that you bore no bow, and felt it would dishonour our Elven kinship to let you go into the mountains without it.”
The weapon was of magnificent quality, the stave polished and small engravings decorating its length, and was accompanied by a quiver filled with arrows fletched with red and gold feathers. Running his finger over the symbols upon his bow, the Fire Elf noticed that they were depictions of fire, and the bow had been designed so that the engravings looked like flames dancing as they did upon the enchanted blade he carried.
“Thank you,” was all that he could muster at the reception of such a gift, drawing another laugh from the Warden.
“It was My Lady’s idea, not mine, but I shall pass on your sentiment when I make my report after your departure. Now, let us continue on our way.”
The first few miles were covered in silence, Lonariel unsure of what he could say while the Warden seemed uncertain as to whether he should say what was on his mind. He kept glancing over at the Loremaster, however, and his eyes kept scanning over to the scar across the Fire Elf’s eyebrow, as if he was trying to understand the meaning of it all.
“Pardon me…,” began the explorer after the fifth time he had caught the glance from the Warden.
“My name is Talei
nith,” was the response, the Warden turning his head to look straight at the Loremaster, his hazel-coloured eyes appearing as if he already knew the question that was coming, and was slightly grateful that the matter had been addressed at last.
“…Taleinith, why do you keep looking at my scar?”
“I am trying to understand why it is that the two beings I know who have been wounded by Katchanga hold the marks in, well, reverence.”
“‘Two beings that have scars from Katchanga? Who is the other you are aware of?”
“Well, technically only you have a scar caused directly by Katchanga, yet the Lady Halarniel has one that was caused because of him.” Taleinith’s voice had dropped, as if he wanted only Lonariel to hear what he had to say and was afraid that others might be listening.
“How can someone have a scar because of someone?” Confusion was evident on the Loremaster’s face, and the Warden took a deep breath before continuing in the same hushed tones.
“You know that Katchanga injured you while his mind was weak, and that only his physical condition prevented him from completely healing you when he regained control of himself, yes?” Lonariel nodded, enthralled by the thought that his experience was no longer the lone affair he had always thought it to be.