by Tom Rogal
About four miles from where they started running, they came to a small clearing. Before they could re-enter the woods, one Garchai jumped in their way. They were soon joined by about five others. They were surrounded. The mages huddled in the center, surrounding the Relic. Neeza, Mimerck, and Condarin each readied a spell, but they didn’t think it was going to do them any good. Two of the Garchai charged forward.
Suddenly, every other sound was muffled by many things whizzing against the wind. Three of the Garchai dropped dead in mere seconds. A fourth one suffered many wounds before escaping. The fifth, unsure as to what was happening, retreated.
The mages were not sure what was going on either. Neeza moved away from the pack to examine one of the Garchai. When he reached him, he pulled out the arrow and stared in disbelief. Unbelievable! He didn’t need to study it to know where these came from. The design and make of the arrow made it easy enough.
Neeza said, “Elves.”
He barely finished saying it before another set of whizzing was heard, followed by a collective cry of pain from the mages.
Lindaris grabbed whatever hit him in the back of the neck and yelled, “What in everything was that?”
Dyenarus pulled it out of her neck too. Whatever it was, it was short, black, and very elaborately made. Also, whatever the liquid was at the end of it, it was making her and the rest incredibly woozy. What was going on? Joakon and Condarin were the first to go down, followed by Haldirin, Mimerck, and Gerran. Lindaris and she fought as hard as they could, but they too succumbed to the numbing strength of that dart.
Neeza had seen them before. This couldn’t be happening! They were so damn close! He couldn’t be denied a second time. Damn the elves! Damn them to the deepest hell he could think of! He blacked out shortly moments later.
15
Neeza woke up suddenly as a sharp breeze hit his face. He had expected to be lying on the ground somewhere or not waking up at all. Yet, here he was in a very comfortable bed with silken sheets. He was no longer donning his robes, but an equally comfortable silk tunic and pants. The room was large and exquisite, with beautiful tiling and paintings on the wall. The windows were large open slots in the wall, offering a very beautiful sight of the ocean. He knew instantly by the design that they were in an elvish building, but where in the devil was he? And where were the rest of the mages?
The sun was rising, so they were out at least for twenty or so hours. Maybe it was longer. The place they were at was very high just by going off the distance he was from the sea.
The door opened and a nicely dressed elf walked in. He was wearing fine leather boots and a well-made tunic and pants. Like most elves, he was wearing his quiver of arrows on his back, but a bow was nowhere in sight. That didn’t mean he was defenseless. I just meant that death wouldn’t be coming from a bow. Most usually carried a strong knife or short sword and were very proficient in both.
The courier said, “The esteemed Vindimar will see you in a few minutes. Make any preparations you’d like beforehand. Knock thrice when you are ready to go.”
The elf didn’t wait for a response, only closing the door and locking it. Neeza walked over to a chair and table. Resting on it was a plate of fruits and bread as well as a goblet filled with some reddish drink. It was most likely a wine of some kind as they did like the finer things in life. Beer or ale was below their palate. On the chair, he saw his robe. It was cleaned and pressed to almost new. The tears and wears that he had donned on them were repaired. His staff, which received quite a bit of damage from his fight with Orznaii, had been patched up and made stronger. One wouldn’t be able to tell he was even in a fight had he not remembered it.
As much as he wanted to find out what was going on, his growling stomach was a much stronger force. He sat down and began eating the fruit and bread, feeling almost instantly relieved. It was said that elvish food had an incredible effect on most of the other races so long as it wasn’t a salad. To get fruit or bread was considered an honor to receive. That meant they must know who he was.
After he ravaged the food, he looked at the robe that rested peacefully on the chair backing. As comfortable as these clothes were (and as a mage who was supposed to desire nothing but his robe, this was even a hard choice), he decided that if he was going to be meeting an Elvish dignitary, he was going to do it in the clothes of his people. He dressed in his robe and grabbed his staff as he walked toward the door, knocking three times.
“Ah, Honorable Neeza! It is a great honor to see you. Welcome to Hiierland! My name is Vindimar, the one in charge of this facility.”
Neeza progressed forward closer to his elvish host. The space was fashioned in the same way a throne room was normally dressed. A long red carpet that led from the doors to the throne was over marble tile. Behind the throne were more open slots for windows that reached from the floor almost to the top of the fifty foot ceiling. A tapestry could be dropped for when it rained, no doubt.
He had heard many stories about Hiierland. It was one of only three of the active island fortifications that remained when the elves were still residing in Mount Hrithgorn, deserting most of them after the Ettui Island Wars. The palace fortress was situated on the tip of a long piece of rock that elevated on one side. It was the perfect defense because there was only one way up and any army charging had to run entirely uphill just to reach it. It had a dock large enough to hold two ships at most. He had heard stories that even this place was abandoned and lost to time like Mount Hrithgorn.
Neeza, trying to be polite but stern, answered, “It is my honor to be here. Where is here, exactly? And where are the rest of my mage friends? You know who I am! Release us at once!”
Vindimar laughed and said, “You certainly do get to the point. This place is located in between The Simorgan Chain and Fort Za, much closer to the Dragonian continent west of here.”
He stood up showing his true size. He was nearly seven and a half feet with pale skin and fine hair. There was another elf that was slightly shorter than the one that stood next to him, but he remained silent for the time being. He wore a robe and seemed to be some sort of chancellor.
“Since you are in a hurry to get to the point, let me first begin by apologizing how you were treated back on the Simorgan South. But we couldn’t take any chances. We didn’t know how influenced you were by the Relic. Your people are currently being held in rooms such as you were. Comfortable, I assure you. Well except that one that called himself your captain. His tongue has gained him temporary stay in the cells. I give you my word that once we have concluded our business here, you all will be free to go as you please.”
Somehow he didn’t seem surprised by Mimerck’s actions. He could imagine him waking up and being infuriated about what had happened. Neeza supposed he could demand Vindimar to free him, but he figured that a little lockdown time would do him good. There were other more important things on his mind then trying to spell his captain thirty minutes of relief.
Neeza asked, “And what about the Relic?”
Vindimar replied, “The Relic will stay here until we have some idea how to handle it. When we first observed you heading toward the island chain, we meant well to stop you before you arrived. But we too had felt the Relic reaching out, calling to be discovered. If we had gone, the Valendritaii would have found us the moment we stepped foot there. They would have recognized our taste.”
He wasn’t surprised that they did see them, but that is where things got confusing to him.
“What does that mean? How can they recognize your taste?” asked Neeza.
Vindimar sat down again, the normal elf hint that he was going to tell a story of sorts, “To answer that I should tell you a little of the history of Valendri’s Coffin and of Mount Hrithgorn after the Ettui Island Wars were won.
“Valendri’s Coffin was created by an outcast elf named Wilnmis, who decided it would be amusing to dabble in necromancy. Legend says Valendri used the elf to create a doorway for him to easily enter the mor
tal world. What he opened was something that not even he could control. He disappeared shortly after. He must stayed with it until he died, driven mad by the power he unleashed. With no one to consume, the Relic waited for the right moment to spill new blood.
“In all the years we held onto Mount Hrithgorn, we had never felt a strange presence there. We were there for nearly 200 years before the Ettui began their assaults.
“After our victory, a newly appointed commander-in-chief was named. He examined the battle and sought to find ways to correct our mistakes. One of which was the enemy sneaking into underground passages. He ordered more rooms be made from below the throne room and to make an escape route only usable from the inside. That is when he found it.
“It seemed simple; a coffin and nothing more. But then everything changed. The people began to lose their minds. The Twin Dragons who guarded the gold supply became fearful of the relic’s power and locked themselves in. Physically the people began to mutate. As you know, when an elf destroys the land instead of nurturing it, they turn into Ettui. The Relic . . . did something different. It changed them into monsters. They became known as the Valendritaii, or Valendri’s minions. I’m sure you met a few of them on your journey there.
“In fact, the only reason you are all alive is because they had never acquired the taste of mages. Their years of being exposed to the Relic ate away their sight, so they relied on the races they had eaten to be able to track their prey. Because of this, whenever they tracked you, to them you were nothing more than a log on the ground. If even one had licked some mage blood, then everything on the Chain would have been able to sense you.”
Although hard to believe, he began to think about all the previous encounters with the Garchai. Before they entered Hrithgorn, it was true they couldn’t find them. Yet when they left, the Garchai knew exactly which island the mages were on. He thought their cargo was responsible for that. But his thoughts returned to their fallen brethren, Biverin. Zondiir or one of the other Garchai could have licked the pool of blood that he was told was at the mage farmer’s feet. If that happened, then it was possible to find them fast.
Vindimar concluded, “The remnants of the fort didn’t disappear as legends say, you see. They never left.”
That meant the Garchai were actually the elves that stayed and were corrupted by the Relic’s power. Incredible! Would that have happened to them had they stayed exposed to it for long? It was difficult to accept that those used to be elves.
Vindimar asked, “What I want to know primarily is why you want the Relic?”
Neeza heard the question, but it was something he didn’t want to answer. He knew the elves were going to say no if he gave his real request. Even if he gave the lie he told the students, they would see right through it.
“So, the commander of the Mount, was his name Zondiir?”
Vindimar said, “I don’t appreciate you changing the subject, though I am curious how you know his name? Zondiir’s name is just as forbidden as speaking the Eratuu language.”
Neeza explained, “I know him because I spoke with him. He still lives in the Mount. Another elf still lived there too. His name was Higalmos, but he died during the Ettui attack there. Why were they there?”
Hearing this surprised the elf captain. It must have been assumed that he died by the power of the Relic. As it turned out, the Coffin made him the strongest of them all.
“He did discover the Relic, so he had a unique bond with its desires. It is shocking, but not so much. I don’t know why the Ettui were there, just as much as I don’t know why you were there.”
This elf was a clever one that was for sure. No matter how he asked the question, he turned it back onto him. Just as before, it was a question he didn’t want to answer, especially not to him.
Vindimar guessed, “Did you want it for the power it gave? If so, you are wasting your time. You would never be able to complete the task required to activate it.”
Neeza put on a blank face, instead demanding, “The Relic is ours by recovery. After we are done with it, we would be more than happy to return it to you, and you may do whatever you wish to it.”
“I’m afraid that’s not how it works,” stated Vindimar.
Neeza said, “I’m leaving here with the Relic. What are you going to do? Torture me?”
“I hardly see that as necessary.”
Vindimar and Neeza looked to the right. Out of the shadows stepped a seemingly young elf. He was different than the one sitting high on his throne. He had a presence to him. Neeza had actually met him, but only once. It was also a long time ago.
The mage leader respectfully bowed, “Arionn, leader of the Wood Elves. What brings you here?”
Arionn answered, “It is good to see you well again. I feared for you once I felt you going to Mount Hrithgorn. That is the reason I am here. Why won’t you answer Vindimar’s question?”
“It is an answer he would not understand and frankly, doesn’t have any business knowing,” explained Neeza.
The mage leader was just as Arionn remembered. He was head-strong, but was also easier than a book to read. Vindimar could have sensed it if he wasn’t so uptight about finding his answers. One would say he had spent too many years with the humans in his younger days that he forgot how to observe like the true Wood Elf he was. No matter. This was a situation that must be resolved carefully and quickly.
Arionn said, “Neeza, Vindimar is correct in saying that your desire for the Relic is fruitless. You have no idea how it works, do you? The legends of the Coffin are true, but it is the sacrifice that must be given which is why I bid you to forget it. The Relic has no happy endings.”
Neeza asked, “And how do you know that?”
“Valendri is the god of Mortality. Souls are what he strives for. What else could he want? I know you better than you might think. You are not one that would purposely take innocent lives for the sake of saving one,” said Arionn.
Neeza didn’t want to believe it. Was he saying he would have to kill people to make it work? Normally that was the only time sacrifice was ever used in this day and age. It was what Biverin did to save them.
Vindimar said again, “That still does not tell me why he sought out the Relic.”
Arionn looked over at Neeza. He wanted to end this swiftly. He hated to have to divulge into the mage leader’s personal feelings and emotions, but it would be the only way this confrontation ended with Neeza leaving and without desiring the relic. He would give him one last chance.
Arionn asked, “Will you volunteer to explain or must I tell him?”
Neeza remained silent. Although he had only met the Wood Elf leader once, the tales about how he was able to know things about people were legendary. Did he truly know why? He was pretty certain he was trying to call his bluff. He had never seen Arionn do it and many aspects of elvish tales had to be taken with a grain of salt.
Arionn finally answered, his eyes never leaving Neeza, “He wants it because he blames himself for the death of his wife. He feels that claiming the Relic will be able to bring her back. Neeza, know that there was nothing you could have done to save her. You must accept this.”
Neeza dropped his head. The elf could see he was hitting every point correctly, but he was still teetering. He disliked having to bash the mage leader with this reality, but he had to hear it aloud.
Arionn continued, “You always say to yourself that you were never able to give your wife anything because you couldn’t find a cure for her disease. That is not true. You had actually given her the one thing that she desired most in this world . . . a child. You have a beautiful daughter back home, one who is more important than you can imagine. Instead of trying to save the dead, you might want to consider protecting what you still have and love.”
Neeza couldn’t hold the tears. The leader in him was embarrassed, but the father in him was sorrowful by the realization. How could he have been so blind?
Arionn placed his hand on his shoulder as he looke
d up, not even bothering to hide the tears on his face, “Honorable Neeza, let the Relic go.”
Arionn didn’t have to be in his position to know that after what he said, there was no way that the mage leader would be leaving Hiierland with the Coffin. And what he said was all true as well, including the part about his daughter, Divi. He couldn’t see too far into the future, but he did foresee that he and Divi would one day cross paths, and that she would soon play an important role in the upcoming events.
Neeza hated to admit it, but the Wood Elf was correct. He was painfully, one-hundred percent correct. The time to go home was now. He had to face the facts with the students . . . and with his own daughter.
The mage leader didn’t even bother to say any more as he turned around. There was nothing more to be said. He knew there were questions they weren’t answering about the Relic; ones he was very curious to at least know the truth about. He would probably never learn them from the elves. One thing he was certain about: any desire to bring the Relic back to Myyril had lost its luster.
Arionn didn’t show it, but inside he was smiling. He made a wise choice. The Coffin was a tool of evil, and if they would have kept it, who knows the chaos it would have created. The Relic and its fate would be something to discuss, but later when the mages had left. These were trying times, and they needed to use the upmost caution about who they took into their confidence. He liked Neeza, but he wasn’t ready, nor were the mages.
Neeza left the room as soon as Vindimar ordered that his friends be released and fed before their departure.
Neeza and the other mages left Hiierland after sharing one last complimentary meal in the Great Hall. It was at least a five day journey back and the feast would assure at least they wouldn’t go hungry during that time. Mimerck’s ship was even improved as the elves included a special liquid so that his spells would make the ship travel faster for a month at the very most two.