Director Farsing erected himself, having taken in all that was said by this shadowed figure called Dunesil. Reason would dictate it was clearly a terrorist demand. The USA didn’t negotiate with terrorists of any sort, but something about this one was different from anything else he’d ever dealt with.
“Tell me someone got that on tape.” He said insistently.
“Yes sir. We’re running diagnostics as we speak.”
“I want the audio dismantled asap. And try screening through the visuals. I want to see his face in less than an hour.” He demanded, and the agents burst into a flurry of activity. They hadn’t gone a string of six paces in any one direction before the lights flickered once and went out. Every computer and scrambled television went down before anyone could do anything at all. A silent pause enveloped the office until the backup generators eventually kicked on, bringing the pentagon up to full working order for an untold duration. Farsing was scrambling.
“Someone get me the secretary of defense.” He said. “The United States has just been victim of a terrorist attack. As soon as you have him on the line, come get me. We must move to higher alerts immediately.” And he grabbed his cell phone off his belt, dialing for Agent Connelly and putting the phone to his ear.
There was nothing but silence. There was no ringing, no static, and no annoying, misdialed number message. There was simply nothing. The phone was on, but there was literally no ability to transmit a digital signal. He looked to it, and found no bars. He had no service at all.
“Shit!” He swore. “They’ve hacked the satellites!” He nearly shouted it, rushing back to his office, intent on picking up the dropped phone to see if Connelly had remained on the line, unknowing if he’d been on his cell or not at the time.
* * *
Ben Connelly stood dumbfounded, cell phone plugged to his ear as Farsing abandoned him, and he just stared at the television. He listened to all that was said, and demanded of not only the United States, but all of mankind. That was the key aspect of the entire transmission. This wasn’t any average group of terrorists making ridiculous demands. They, whoever they were, were not demanding anything to further their religion. They weren’t demanding anything to abolish any one particular aspect of any one particular culture as most terrorists did. No.
The dark figure, reminiscent of the boy he’d seen in Shannon Hunter’s hospital room, was making demands from the very standpoint of the eco-terrorist organization of E.L.F. However, he was making the demands on a level, an extreme, far beyond the scope of anything the E.L.F. had ever even hinted at performing. Connelly just stood there in response, mouth agape until the broadcast came to the same end Farsing had witnessed.
The television returned to the morning news and the King 5 anchors in Seattle were sitting there, just as dumbfounded as he was. They’d been watching it on their monitors, and when it ended, they looked to their cameras, flabbergasted. The lead anchor had only begun to respond to it, trying to find his voice, when the screen went blank. It was reduced to fuzz and null transmission, leaving Agent Connelly even further immersed in utter disbelief.
The figure hadn’t been lying. It had promised the destruction of the satellites, and so had it come to pass. On his ear, his phone went dead. There was just nothing, and he pulled it away from his head to look at it. He’d lost his signal, though such didn’t really matter. He hadn’t been talking on it in any case. Connelly simply dropped it and moved for the balcony of his temporary residence. He didn’t know what compelled him to do so, but somehow he expected total chaos to erupt in the city streets below him.
He hadn’t even made it to the sliding glass door when the power utterly failed. The television’s scramble simply went black and the lights went out. He hesitated, then rushed to his balcony, throwing the door wide and rushing to the railing to see and hear the monorail grinding to a halt at the very end of Westlake avenue. It just slowed down and died before reaching its terminal at the little Westlake shopping center. The streetlights at the intersections below were utterly dysfunctional. They didn’t even flash as if they’d been reset, because the power was simply gone.
The rail-connected city busses ran mostly on power fed through overhead lines, and one of them died right before his eyes. He couldn’t believe it. The entire power grid had been thrown offline, and he couldn’t even begin to imagine what it might take to get it up and running again. The sudden screeching of tires and honking of horns called out from far below as the first of many collisions occurred beneath his vantage due to the confusion spread in the utter lack of traffic direction. Thus, Westlake suddenly clogged up with a bus blocking the avenue and the honking intensified.
Connelly just stood there, looking down helplessly. It had begun. He didn’t really know what was coming, but he was willing to bet that what he was witnessing was only the beginning. Whoever this Dunesil really was, regardless of what connection he held to the entirety of Connelly’s recent life events in connection to Shannon Hunter and her escape and the murder of Agent Fastez, Ben thought he was looking on the very truth of what was going to unfurl. The chaos that would begin to spread as everyone grew to see what had been transmitted was nothing short of exactly what this dark figure had indeed wanted to come to pass. The chaos itself would prove to be the undoing of all of mankind’s organized, controlled lifestyles.
If no one was able to do anything about what was unfolding, as the figure had said in his transmission, then it was very likely possible that society would tear itself to shreds. When this realization settled down upon him, Agent Connelly could think of only one thing to do. He had to get in touch with Director Farsing. He had to explain that he believed there to be a connection between this Dunesil figure and Shannon Hunter’s accomplice in escaping the FBI’s clutches. What’s more, the figure had spoken of being unable to see his agents and operatives, his soldiers within the very houses of the highest 21 world powers. He’d said they were already in place, and that they could not be found out, for humans would be unable to see them.
Connelly however, had seen one, through the glass of Shannon Hunter’s hospital room door. It very well could be a key to unraveling the mystery that had suddenly jumped up before all of mankind. Little did Connelly begin to realize just yet. This was more than a mystery and a threat. This was a war the figure Dunesil had been talking about. This was a warning, a pre-emptive show of what he and his so called soldiers could do. This was a war mankind could not possibly hope to fight, especially if all that the figure had said, was true.
* * *
The light radiating from the spire of the Palace Llaerth diminished even Addl’laen’s brilliance as Dunesil Llaerthworked his great magic. He sat cross legged within a crystal pyramid, isolated, yet in contact with every Elf in his kingdom.
He performed his workings from here because it was much more than a simple pyramid; it was a chamber specifically designed to amplify the power of his people. Its walls and frame and all of its fixtures were of the same crystal. All were inlaid with the runes of a singular Elvine-blooded spellwork: the Omnigenael, the single greatestElvine spell since the inception of the Veil of the Leaf’s Edge - which was itself the greatest act of magic in history.
The Veil had been his alone, but the Omnigenael focused the power of every Elf through him toward a desired end: in this case, the complete technological takeover and transmission of his speech.
From here he’d issued the dread ultimatum he so loathed imposing upon Mankind. He already feared they would fail to heed him, but he’d had to try.
Completing his speech, he slumped, exhausted. The magnitude of magic channeled through his body had drained him of his strength, but he stiffened his form as the light that poured out from his chamber in organic waves and ribbons slowly trickled away to nothing.
He could still hear the hymns of his entire race radiating from the city below. They sang as one united voice, channeling life to the magic in their spirits. Aided by his crystal projection chamber, he’d or
chestrated their song, siphoned its great power, and bound it to his own mighty spirit, amplifying his magic.
It had worked. It always worked. The Elves were practiced and flawless in their nature. There was no fear that it should fail or cause harm by any means; yet Dunesil rested here, defeated.
Mankind would never listen.
The glass door at his back slid gently open, and Qaiyi reached through the crack and laid a hand on his shoulder. As always, she steadied him, balanced him; he loved her for it, yet took no comfort from her consoling touch.
“It is done,” he answered her presence. His voice still droned the many languages of men, an aftereffect of the magic coursing through him. He sounded strained, despite the power radiating from his chest.
“Though they will not see… It is done.”
“They will see. Have faith, my king,” she reassured him.
“I pray that Addl’laen could make it so.” He sighed, uncurling and stretching his legs.
“Would that I could fear not for my wording. Would that I could express everything more clearly for them than I already have; to make them see. But I do not believe they will heed. I do not believe they can fathom the simplest of things. Their collective skepticism damns them. They will not believe.”
“Give them the chance you already have, and they may yet, great Llaerthir,” Qaiyi tried again. Dunesil stayed quiet, contemplating the likelihood of his fey queen’s hopefulness ringing true for the masses of Man.
“Cast your waste into the sea, to save your world.” He shook his head as if to shed himself of his multilingual drone.
“Do as I say. Show your faith no matter the oddity.” His voices grew bitter altogether. “Show your faith.”
The urgency of his final words shook the crystal projection chamber to its core. Qaiyi made a tsking sound, but did not shy away from his power.
“They will cry out foolishness; anything to dismiss their reality,” the king went on. “They will not understand theElvine gifts to heal even the seas. They will not accept that anything they do to Earth can be undone so long as they simply stop perpetuating it. They will not understand this is just the beginning.”
“Perhaps you underestimate them. Look at the Firea…” Qaiyi started but hesitated, and Dunesil could feel his queen’s uncertainty. He understood. She didn’t quite trust the Shannon girl for whom Addl’laen bore no leaf. Neither did he. Not as she was. She had much yet to prove.
“Come, my husband. Let me see to you. Have faith, if only for a night. They might yet heed. They may yet see the error of their humanity. Let your sons be your eyes tonight, and close your own.” She cooed to his better judgment, and Dunesil did close his eyes. He rested back as she slid in behind him and held him, her figure a strong support despite her childlike daintiness. He surrendered, and was not abashed at his present weakness. He was above such things. Such shame was reserved for Men; Dunesil need never be anything but himself.
“You’ve asked only for a show of faith,” Qaiyi said.
“Man may yet…” she went on, but whatever came after was lost to him, for the crown of the Elvine had already drifted off to sleep.
“Only a show of faith…” echoed in his mind and followed him into his dreams.
Though the Elvine never needed to sleep like Man, there were times when it could pass as something close to required. Now, in his weakened state, could be such a time. Dunesil would slumber and replenish the spiritual energy his efforts had drained.
Tomorrow, he would see whether or not Mankind cared to survive.
But right now, in his absence, it would begin.
Chapter 14
Shannon was a bundle of nerves and frightful anticipation in wake of Dunesil’s instructions to Deh Leccend. She didn’t want to watch the end of mankind, regardless of how deeply involved with her environmentalist beliefs she actually believed she’d become. For all the spite she felt towards her father for what he was, and despite knowing that he was the type of person responsible for bringing about this inevitable end, she found fear for him.
She now knew she still loved him terribly. It made her sad to think she would never see him again. She would never know his touch or hear his voice. This applied less but similarly to Jason and her friends, and to an even further disconnected extent, her long departed mother. Yet she was peculiarly resolved to her part to play in this dire end, due to the words of the Great Tree in all its immaculate glory.
It left her feeling quiet and alone to know she was to be the last human being left alive. She’d already concluded that it would come to pass that way, for she knew nothing would sway the greedy minds of those in charge of society. They would never heed the warnings, not even if stated to them in plain, simple English, right to their faces. It wouldn’t be deemed economically feasible, let alone ‘cost effective’ to abolish all that they knew and relied upon to keep their money-based systems of control up and running.
Without all that Dunesil would demand be given up, those in charge, wouldn’t be in charge anymore. She knew they would never let that come to happen. They needed their control over the masses in order to survive. Most of them were simply corporate juggernauts in the capitalist world. They held the majority of the real power, she knew, or at least speculated long in debates through the time she’d spent with Jason and others of that ilk.
Shannon followed, being led delicately by Deh Leccend’s gentle hand as they walked from Addl’laen, bound for what she could only presume to be the White House in Washington D.C. as Dunesil had said she was to be taken to the house of the leader of men on this land. It was a safe assumption, and she didn’t need to ask the truth of the matter. She didn’t care where they were going. Forced to resign and left to watching was her part in this mess mankind had wrought.
She fully understood the stance of the Elves, and in the end was left with a numb, cold sensation running throughout her system. Her thoughts were disconnected and her emotions were suppressed beneath what she could only imagine the great mother was feeling. For all the emptiness the promise of mankind’s end provided, Shannon felt a wash of sorrow for many things under many lights.
Deh Leccend seemed to recognize the drooping look in her exotic eyes, but emotionless as he was, recognizing it was about all he could manage to do. He couldn’t even give her a sympathetic look as he spoke to confirm that he saw what she was feeling.
“You are right, Firea’csweise.” He spoke. “The mother is sorrowed.”
Shannon could only sigh, walking along disinterested with his flat words and all the beauty they passed amidst here within the Veil. Eventually, she brought her eyes back up to the world as had never been known by mankind, and she was left wondering if that was indeed the truth of the matter.
“Tell me something, Deh.” She requested for him to talk about anything at all to keep her mind from wandering in the dark gutter she’d found her salvation to be.
“What would you like me to tell, milady Firea’csweise?” He asked.
“I don’t know.” She said sadly.
“Anything. Tell me more about the mother’s history. Tell me what mankind has never known. Tell me if we’ve ever seen the mother like you have.” She paused.
“Tell me about yourself and the Black Leaves. Tell me what’s going to happen.” Shannon sighed, realizing she sounded fairly pitiful, but she didn’t care. She just didn’t.
“The mother?” He asked, but Shannon didn’t say anything back, merely nodding.
“Mankind has not seen her as Addl’laen beyond the Veil since the Veil’s inception took that all away from them and their ruin. But, it has seen the mother as thus, long ago.” He paused thoughtfully, recalling what the world had been like all those millennia ago.
“Mankind now has never known the Powers that be, but they did witness their awakening when it occurred. Mankind does not now know how old they truly are.” He added.
“Incidentally, what I could tell you about the Black Leaves to answer your question, i
s inherently tied to the creation of the Veil of the Leaf’s Edge, the awakening of the Powers, and the heiress White Leaves, bearers of the keys to the binding of the Powers. It is also bound to the youthful self-realization of Mankind.” He began to tell a story, but Shannon cut in with a question.
“Can you tell me about the Powers?” She asked searching his face.
“Yes.” He answered, not missing a beat nor a single certain, eerily silent stride.
“As I said, they are inherently tied to the history you asked me to tell.”
“I’m sorry.” She spoke, bidding him to continue on his path.
“For what milady, Firea’csweise?” Deh Leccend queried, but Shannon brushed it off.
“Nevermind. Please, continue, Deh.”
“When the mother created the great tree, and Addl’laen created all of us in her youth, mankind was powerful with great minds of logic. They understood the value of truth and the great mother. They honored her, and served her whilst living off her, as we do. None of us knew of the Powers, but we would discover them in time.
E.L.F. - White Leaves Page 18