by Ben Marshall
“Carrassiel did not strike against my nation then, and our technology is sufficient to defeat any invader,” Thorengol interrupted, his smug air once again blatant as he looked at the other representatives, particularly Dareinax. “We shall not be conquered like the weaker nations, and neither shall we be manipulated like the more primitive.”
At this Rothil and Dareinax turned to face him with looks of loathing, seated as they were upon either side of him, and the sight of the dark-skinned barbarian’s huge muscles and the Half-Elf’s hand concealed beneath his tunic must have made him think the better of continuing his tirade.
“Confidence can also be a weakness when mishandled, and intelligence is pointless without the wisdom and judgement to properly utilise it. Continue these jests and thine safety cannot be assured beyond these walls.”
Katchanga’s warning was not aimed at the youth alone, though it was clear he was the chief focus, but carried with it also the hint of experience in witnessing the consequences.
“Indeed, confidence should not be held without rational judgement of your enemy’s potential. That was Carrassiel’s mistake, the mistake of all who faced the Dark Tide ill-prepared, and we cannot guarantee that his successor will make the same error. If he doesn’t then the island nations shall face assault once the mainland has been taken; assuming he doesn’t seek to destroy them first and increase the number of positions he can assault. History never repeats itself exactly, and we shouldn’t expect that it will. We all know, however, of what the consequences will be if the army that he could summon is victorious…”
“The destruction and desecration of our homes and lands…”
“The slaughter of all who are of no use as slaves or who try and resist Moragil’s will…”
“All started by attacks by unassailable numbers of Orcs and other minions, aided by the power within the Amulet of Planar Summoning; which is the relic we have unearthed.”
The Councillors were all speaking to the representatives now, each in turn while the Head Councillor reached towards the attendant stood behind him, taking a small reliquary of fine oak from the servant and placing it upon the pedestal with trembling fingers. Opening the container, aware of the hushed tension that had settled heavily upon the representatives, he turned the plinth slowly so all could look upon the Amulet, as it rested upon the silks of red and gold that coated the inside of its home.
“How can such a trinket frighten you all so?”
Thorengol couldn't contain his derision at the notion of such power confined to so insignificant an item, failing to notice the looks that seemed to be engraved upon the faces of Brietrin, Inyentin and Dareinax. The Dwarven King kept shaking his head, as if trying to dislodge something that had become trapped there, hearing again the words that had filled his thoughts for the week following Lonariel’s departure upon the wyvern, but only Katchanga seemed to observe the severity of the change in his demeanour. Indeed it seemed as if Kerial was unaware of anything save Aurephian’s presence, her green eyes flitting from his own to his mouth and back again, and she glanced over the ethereal artefact towards him as her left hand reached up and reflexively curled the ends of her blonde hair, her mind suddenly aware that he seemed to be looking in her direction. In truth he was focussed upon the Amulet, his mind trying to reason why the Lord of the Vale was avoiding the glances that Halarniel kept throwing his way; though his new master certainly seemed tense in the presence of her or the unique relic before them all.
“It is no mere trinket; as has been said. Its powers have yet to be seen at their fullest, its limits never reached during the years it served its forger, but with the occasions on which it was wielded, ruin was avoided only by seconds. It works by creating, or tearing open, a gateway to the Demonic Plane, unleashing the power held within the hellish realm, draining an enslaved abomination, or by summoning them to walk the lands, as they did before the Guardians and their allies sealed them within the infernal Plane. The former use was realised when my forces faced those of Carrassiel outside his fortress, when the Dark Lord augmented his own considerable power with that of his brethren, seeking to draw us back under the influence of his corruption. The latter was avoided only by the disruption of the summoning, when the amulet was cut from the neck of Moragil by my own blade.” Katchanga spoke with a sigh of fatigued boredom in his voice, his eyes never able to rest upon the sight of the Lady of the Forest for more than a few seconds before he cast them down.
“Then why didn’t you destroy it when his army was defeated?”
“Because then, as now, we didn’t know enough about it to risk unleashing the power, without the controlling measures that allow the wearer to command the demons and their essences. All we have learnt is that it cannot be destroyed beyond the fortress, beyond the deep chamber it was crafted through foul rituals, and that we now must risk the consequences in order to ensure that it does not fall into the clutches of Moragil, or the demon Telaniec and allow them to become too powerful to overcome.”
“This is why you were all brought here, because the destruction or reclamation of the Amulet decides the strength of the force that will be unleashed upon your nations in turn. If it is destroyed then there is a possibility of defeating the mortal minions of Moragil, but if the attempt fails then nothing short of divine intervention could prevent the extinction of us all, and even that may not be enough to overcome such ancient malevolence as is contained within the Demon Plane.” The Head Councillor was standing before them all, his grey eyes boring into each representative as he continued to speak, fixing them all with a solemn, haunted stare. “The choice is yours, as is the risk you shall be taking, but you all stand to save your nations from the doom that awaits them. Katchanga shall be your guide, as only he knows completely the many paths you must take to minimise the dangers upon a hazardous journey, but if Moragil should mobilise then he shall be lost to you, as he is forced to try and raise a force to oppose him, to fight to prevent him from gaining a foothold upon our shores. We hold no conception of your complete success, and in fact we believe your success to be only a slim possibility, but there are no other options available. No nation has the means to oppose single-handed an attempt to reclaim the Amulet, and so it cannot be trusted to any realm. I fear that most would be tempted to use its power against their neighbours and make Moragil’s victory simpler, and so you must risk all to destroy it.”
“And how are we to succeed at all? We are too few to survive the perils if we are attacked by a cohort of Moragil’s ranks, assuming there aren’t other knives aimed at our backs.” Rothil’s point was valid, partially at least, but not unexpected.
“We are aware of the…animosity…between certain nations that are represented, just as we also have some idea of what awaits you. You are all free to recruit a handful of warriors to aid you, but it is through secrecy and stealth that your best chance can be found. Each of you is the best of your nation, either to the mind of Katchanga or the rulers of your nations, and each can offer something to this cause to reduce the chances of defeat. You are all free to refuse our request, as has always been made clear, but consider if you will that your refusal shall not prevent the elimination of you and your people if the others fail, and will only serve to increase the odds that face them. Choose now what you wish your fate to be: a futile war and a pointless death, your nation plunged beside you into obscurity, or that of your nation’s saviour?”
The silence that followed was made all the more unbearable for the Councillors by the severity of the choice that was being decided, though several tried to find some solace in the belief that each passing minute strengthened the chances of the representatives accepting the task. Each Elder breathed a silent sigh of relief as Dareinax spoke up, his voice holding such strength of conviction that each of the aged Elves knew few pressures would persuade him otherwise.
“When I agreed to come to this meeting the Founder spoke to me. He told me to trust in the Guardian of Nature, for it is his duty to protect the
beings that were created by Her and the Tree Lord, so I pledge now that I shall aid Katchanga until I am unable to do so.”
“I have already pledged to serve Katchanga as a member of his forces, I know that it is the wish of the Council that I provide aid, so I am honoured and ready for the chance to prove myself in battle against any who shall oppose us.”
Aurephian stood to attention as he spoke, bowing briefly to the Councillors and Katchanga as they were mentioned, and his eyes shone with eager anticipation, displayed no hint of fear. Kerial stood up almost as soon as he finished, her smile extending to her eyes as she continued to look at the warrior.
“I came ready to follow Nature’s Most Favoured to whatever end. I know that my fate shall be decided by Her and my time shall come regardless of where I am. I and this young Cleric, apparently, shall happily accept whatever Nature has in store for us upon the road ahead.”
Halarniel’s voice was perfectly calm, perhaps too calm and unemotional judging by the brief look of shock that crossed Katchanga’s face, but her eyes showed her determination to be a part of this venture. Cecilan looked as if he didn’t agree with her decision, but he hid well the signs of his discomfort as he stood beside her,
“Then I must decline the offer, for I must lead our people while my sister is doing whatever she may have to.”
Yanaliel didn’t stand as the Lord of the Forest resumed his seat, but merely placed a hand tenderly upon his own as she spoke.
“I too must return to Faluvii, for in the coming weeks I shall need to provide what guidance I can offer to those who do not communicate directly with Nature. Kerial is a skilled Cleric, if a little wayward, and I am sure she shall be a valuable asset to this mission.”
In turn the other representatives spoke of their consent to become a part of the group that would travel to destroy the Amulet, with Dorallian and Rothil offering their prowess with both blade and bow, Brietrin offering his valour and strength, Barinya his tactical expertise and experience in warfare. Though the Half-Elf from Valinia remained reluctant in his decision, Enyatar eagerly pledged to see the threat ended.
“My experience is limited, but I would rather risk death facing this threat, than wait for it to come to my homeland.”
“I have some knowledge of what awaits us all upon the road, I am sure that my intelligence will provide some benefit now that the brutish strength has been supplied, and perhaps I can enlighten some of you to the errors in your mundane existence,” Thorengol announced to the assembled beings, looking mainly at Dareinax as he did so, but the only response was for several snickers to rise from the warriors, the barbarian staring down at the youth with almost a smile upon his stoic features.
“The journey shall be fraught with peril, and I am confident that my magic shall allow some of the hazards to be overcome safely,” Inyentin told them, ignoring the whimpering of Peon at the mention of “peril” and “hazards” as he cowered close to her chair, his thin arms stroking down the gilded metal as though it brought some comfort, claw-like nails causing several small tears in the soft fabric that covered the seat itself.
“I am afraid that I must decline the offer of death that you have handed to the others, because my duty demands I warn the Diarchy, and prepare the forces of the Empire, to face whatever army Moragil will send against us when he discovers your plans. Perhaps I shall be given leave to join you further along your road, but first and foremost on my agenda is defending my homeland, as we were the first to be attacked in the previous war.”
Antonio’s voice held tones of genuine regret, though his words made an attempt to disguise it, and he reacted no further as the Head Councillor signalled for an attendant to escort him to his chambers, in order to make preparations for his return to Charad. Cecilan and Yanaliel solemnly followed a second servant to their own quarters to gather their belongings, Cecilan informing his sister that the warriors that had accompanied him would be joining her on the journey, though Taleinith had to return to Faluvii to aid in the preparations for war. Though Yanaliel offered both Halarniel and Katchanga a brief, almost hopeful smile as she passed, Cecilan barely inclined his head in acknowledgement of the Vale Lord, his eyes fixed rigidly ahead of him. Though he understood, even agreed with, Katchanga’s efforts to focus upon the dangerous road to come, to try and block the dark memories from intruding, the Lord of Faluvii could never wholly support the warrior who caused his sister so much pain.
“We told you all that you could leave as soon as you declined our request, and so it shall be. Those of you who remain have until dawn to make your final preparations, when you shall depart to accompany Katchanga as he guides you into history. The dangers are many, the road is long, and the fate of us all is in your hands.”