The Fourth Age Shadow Wars: Assassins (The Fourth Age: Shadow Wars Book 1)

by David Pauly

  'Who are you, and why have you come?' asked a voice that seemed to come from out of those clouds.

  The prince replied, 'Alfrahil am I, son of Creon, High King of Eldora and all the Westmen, who honors the promise of Men that all these lands within the Vale belong to the Magi in perpetuity. I have come in answer to the summons of Priscus, and to beg for your help regarding certain dire circumstances that have recently come to pass in our land.'

  'I am Priscus, Prince of Eldora,' replied the voice with a mellifluous sigh, and suddenly Alfrahil realized that the chartreuse clouds before him were in actuality a pair of immense eyes. 'Many years of Men and the leaves of many seasons have passed since I last spoke with your father. Are you honest and true as he, or craven, carrying falsehood and treachery in your heart?'

  At this, Alfrahil felt anger overcome his fear. His heart blazed within him, feeding off the murmurs of his men, and he said, 'I am the Crown Prince of Eldora! If I am to be treated with disrespect, my men and I shall go home, and you shall find no help from Men if you need it in the future.' Bristling with indignation, Alfrahil turned to mount his horse, but those amazing chartreuse eyes reappeared in front of him, revealing brief warmth, like a glint of distant sunlight on an overcast afternoon.

  A tone of such purity and resonance came forth from behind those eyes that it seemed to Alfrahil his skull must surely shatter. Yet the pain vanished in an instant. In fact, he was not sure it had been pain, simply a sensation he had never felt before, pitched too high for normal senses to register. He felt Priscus' mind enter his own. But this was no rough, uncaring intrusion such as he had experienced in the past from his father's mental investigations. He felt as if tiny invisible fingers were gently probing his thoughts, asking wordless questions yet also focusing on his fear and despair, and repairing many of Alfrahil's ragged mental fibers. Then Alfrahil felt the presence withdraw.

  Priscus spoke again. 'You do indeed possess some of the good qualities of your father, but without many of his flaws. You are welcome here, Alfrahil, son of Creon. Let us withdraw now to the upper meadows of the Emerald Vale, where you and I may speak more privately. You shall have no need of any escort, Prince Alfrahil. Your men can wait here, outside the Vale proper. They will be safe and comfortable.'

  'Gladly will I accompany you, Priscus,' said Alfrahil. Then, to his men: "Wait here for my return. Do nothing to denigrate the hospitality of the Magi.'

  'But my Lord,' said Caelus. 'If your father knew we had allowed you to travel unprotected . . ."

  'I feel sure that Priscus is all the protection I shall require. Of course, you may take the matter up with him, Caelus, if you wish it.'

  'N-no, Lord,' stammered Caelus, turning pale. 'We will abide until your return.'

  Alfrahil made to mount his horse, but Priscus said, 'You must come on foot, Prince Alfrahil. And take care to keep to the path, lest you unwittingly damage or destroy any living thing.'

  'I shall,' Alfrahil answered.

  To be invited deep within the vale by the Magi was unheard of, and Alfrahil followed the chartreuse eyes with a great deal of wonder and curiosity, his mind much clearer and stronger than before, thanks to Priscus' mental intervention. Slowly he proceeded across a small sandy, muddy track amid lush meadows, only visible within a few feet as the mist surrounding him allowed him to see his feet and the ground before him, toward the far end of the Vale. Now, the mist of the Magi disappeared, remaining as a barrier to his men that they could not see through, but the natural mists of the valley diffused the light of the full moon into a gentle glow, allowing Alfrahil to dimly see. Thick leaves and flowers brushed his shoulders as Alfrahil wiped the moisture from his face. He felt that he was truly walking within a cloud; and that with a brief concentrated effort he could drift up with the mist, ascending to the great snowy peaks above, where he would meet the sun in its great fierceness, before gently settling down toward the verdant slopes below. Alfrahil felt the power of the Magi and of the forest grow, surrounding him he made his way through the shadowed mists. Shivering for a moment, Alfrahil looked quickly about, and could see only shadowy ripples ahead and alongside of himself that he presumed were Priscus and the other Magi. Suddenly, while still walking across the meadow, Alfrahil heard the whisper of wind through the boughs of ancient branches. Not seeing any trees, the soft moonlight revealed only a dark gray barrier form around him.

  But then he realized he must be hearing the sounds of Vespre, or Ghosts of the Forests, as they were also known, lesser, wilder forest spirits, incapable of or unwilling to speak with Men, Dwarves, or even Elves. More numerous than the Magi, they often assumed the forms of animals and trees slain unjustly. They patrolled the entire valley, both upper and lower, and ignored all intruders so long as they did not harm the plants, trees, or creatures that dwelt here. But if anyone should cause harm to anything that lived in the valley, then the Vespre would exact a terrible revenge. The Vespre could not be bargained with, and they were unfettered by pity or remorse. Not for naught did the Kozaki and other Men enter but rarely into the Vale, making certain to leave the trees and the creatures that dwelt there alone, and allowing no horse to graze. No wonder that Priscus had cautioned him to remain on the path.

  A cool dry wind suddenly blew down from the sides of the valley and at last, Alfrahil could see the mountain walls that cupped the vale and its surrounding forests within their stony arms, as if someday they would fill the valley with rock; as if all that living hands, both mortal and immortal, had built would perish before their inexorable will. Alfrahil looked ahead and saw a wooden wall forming a great curve that reached from one narrow side of the valley to the other. The wind had pushed the mist up above the valley floor, hiding the tops of the wall completely. Alfrahil followed the path toward the wall, determined to show only wonder rather than fear to Priscus when he arrived at his unknown destination.

  #

  Priscus, like all the Magi, greeted present times with deep sadness, for his knowledge of the future had long revealed to him the coming of the dominion of Men. The Magi had known loss and hardship prior to the arrival of the Elves, and now Men were felling the forests of Nostraterra at a great pace, replacing trees with farms, ancient grasslands, with tilled earth. Many of the Magi were reluctant to speak with any creatures but those that dwelt within the forest, though they regarded the Elves more highly than most. Few of them wanted anything to do with Men, but Priscus felt differently. He hoped to turn Men away from their destructive pathways and preserve the forests, for without the forests, without the wild, natural places of Nostraterra, the Magi had no purpose and would retreat into the earth again from whence they came.

  Now, sensing the mood of antipathy toward mortals from nearby Magi and Vespre, Priscus led Alfrahil deeper into the Vale, to the northeast end, where he took physical form. Rather than appearing as a disembodied, shimmering spirit, he was now part tree, part man-shaped, with two long arms, covered in leaves and bark, and hands with long, thin branches for fingers. His lower body was hidden in shadow, but his eyes glowed fifteen feet high off the ground. Other Magi were nearby, shimmering faintly in the soft fall of moonlight. One was a column of water twelve feet high that rippled and danced. Another was a dark ruby pillar of light; smoky particles moved through it, as if the light from a burning forest were present, ever changing constantly in flux. A nearby pile of boulders rumbled as the individual stones moved upon and across one another, growing taller and then wider, taking a brief humanoid form before returning to a pile of rocks.

  Priscus bent slightly to speak with Alfrahil. Instead of asking him what his questions were, or issuing some obscure pronouncement, Priscus did something unrecorded in the history of Men: he conversed.

  'I have sensed many things of late in the air and from the rains and mist and water. A disquiet grows within the back of my mind, pushing ever forward to reach my waking thoughts,' he said. 'I sense that things are changing more rapidly than I would like, and that great evil is about to be awakened
once more within the world. This time, however, I do not believe that we Magi shall remain unchanged or even unscathed.'

  'What do you foresee?' asked Alfrahil.

  'Little good,' replied Priscus. 'The recent events in Eldora may be the first sign of what I fear may come to pass. If you and your father were slain, the realm of Eldora would descend into chaos, forcing your brother to win over the hearts and minds of powerful Men who do not love him.'

  'How do you know of the inner workings of Eldora?' asked Alfrahil incredulously.

  'There is little that can evade my thoughts, and I have many messengers that bring word to me from all parts of Nostraterra,' Priscus said. 'Besides, there is one other; a great power who still exists in this world: one who loves the trees and the wild creatures as much as I. It is he that provides me with many messengers, and I give him my counsel from afar.'

  'To whom are you referring?' asked Alfrahil.

  'This is not important now; suffice to say that most of what occurs in the outside world is known to me, either through the reports I receive or my own visions of the future. Yet I had no forewarning of the attempt on your life, young prince. That was news I pulled directly from your mind. Which is quite troubling, I must say. It seems that evil has spread farther and faster than I had thought possible.'

  'What evil?' asked Alfrahil. 'And how does this relate to the attempts on my life?'

  Priscus paused a moment. 'In our visions, we Magi have seen Dark Elves gathering in the East and South aided by terrible blue creatures such as we have never beheld: creatures whose magic is equally unique. We have seen the lands of all races seething with discontent and conflicts hidden beneath a placid surface erupting into wars amongst each race and then between the races. Chaos and terror will threaten all that live in Nostraterra—trees, animals, and sentient beings—with a darkness greater than that brought by Magnar. These dark visions change from one day to the next, indicating that the future is not yet fixed in the books of fate. Individual choices by those in power in their lands, Elf, Dwarf, and Man, will ultimately determine the future of all Nostraterra.'

  'These are indeed grave, if vague, tidings,' said Alfrahil. 'What can I do to avert this danger to Nostraterra?'

  'I looked most closely into your mind to see what troubles you and to judge your character, but I did not probe all of your memories. What have you heard and seen in your realm that might lend support to the visions I have just related? It is for this reason that I sent my message to your father.'

  'Besides the attacks upon me, nothing comes to mind. Of course, there are the usual grumblings from the Shardan front, as the insurrection continues, but it has been thus for many a year now. I have heard of internal difficulties in the realms of the Dwarves and the Lesser Elves, but nothing specifically dark or dangerous, just normal disagreements over politics and religion.'

  'Has your father seen anything in his tower top?' asked Priscus. 'Using the Acies there, he can see much.'

  'My father does not use the Acies often, and whatever he does or does not see there is not relayed to me or to my brother, Daerahil. I will ask my father what he has seen on my return to Eldora. Currently he and his counselors are concerned with unearthing the plot and conspiracy against me, and we would ask your help in rooting out the cause, as well as any other aid you can give.'

  'Aid?' replied Priscus with a gleam in his eye. 'You shall come with me soon to receive such aid as I can give. But you must promise to aid the Magi in turn. I would ask you to dispatch scouts and riders, trustworthy Men who will not easily yield to temptation, to the far corners of your realm and beyond to search for proof that the Dark Elves are arising again and that these mysterious blue creatures and their terrible magic exist. Persuade your allies amongst the Lesser Elves and the Dwarves to also send scouts through their lands. Once you know more, return to me here and give me your tidings.'

  'I have already arranged for the aid of Dwarves and Elves in our search for these evil plotters,' Alfrahil replied.

  'Excellent,' said Priscus. 'Now let me give you the aid I spoke of.'

  Alfrahil saw the wooden wall before him, disappearing into the mists. Dappled shadows lay along the barrier, until he drew close enough and found that it was comprised of huge trees, nearly twenty feet across, with dark spaces between them that no light penetrated. The tinkling sound of water came from the spaces between the trees, but over all there was a constant hiss and roar of smaller cataracts plunging from a great height somewhere close at hand. A small but deep stream lay before his feet, collecting itself from seven smaller streams emerging from the gaps between the trees. A faint hint of color flashed up from this water, appearing and disappearing as quickly as it was seen, and he shook his head at this most unusual occurrence.

  Passing through the wall of giant trees, Alfrahil was astonished to see that they were in an enormous ring of trees, each over forty feet in diameter, with the trees rising above them nearly to the tops of the first terraced layers of stone. The mist surrounded Alfrahil departed, and he was able to look upon a sky that he had never seen before and would never see again. The air had grown incredibly thin and cold; Alfrahil had a difficult time catching his breath. But not for that reason alone. Gazing up at the stars, he was amazed at their brilliance and colors. No longer plain white dots seen from mortal lands, these stars flashed and pulsed in myriad hues, and a mist of lesser stars ran across the sky like spilled silver dust. Here, Alfrahil thought, were the true sentinels of the world, and they would not care what course the mortals that basked in their eternal light might take. Clearly the stars would remain and Men would swiftly disappear, without the stars taking notice or acknowledging the existence of Men. The thin air made Alfrahil swoon. The sounds of the cascading water from above blended with his heartbeat, and he staggered, nearly falling. At that moment, the mists returned, and Alfrahil was brought back within the actual world, though the memory of what he had seen would never leave him.

  'You have seen what no other mortal has ever seen,' said Priscus. 'We have allowed you to experience what the universe is like for us. Even if you climbed to the very top of the Encircling Peaks, you would not see such a vision again. Cherish it well.'

  'I will,' replied an awestruck Alfrahil.

  'Now let us look upon where we are today.'

  As Priscus spoke, the mists cleared again, revealing the mountain peaks and stars as before . . . only less incandescent. Now the stars twinkled down upon the Magi and the enormous trees of this end of the valley. The waterfalls cascading from the sheer cliffs above splashed and danced upon the stone terraces, and their droplets added to the mist that came from the vale, coating the trees and descending in a dense cloud of fog. The Magi began their song, and soon colors appeared within the mist, fleeting yet pervasive, and great shapes and shifts of color emerged and disappeared. Alfrahil knew instinctively that these colors were the basis for the visions seen by the Magi and that he was observing their true powers in action.

  Long was their song, and Alfrahil saw that the colors were created by the trees, that the water that danced at their crowns trickled down their trunks and branches, sending small bits of color out along each branch and leaf. These colors grew in strength and in scope as they traveled down the trunk, and Alfrahil saw that on several branches large spheres were present, where the colors did not flow but instead proceeded down the trunks to where the Magi stood. A huge prismatic shape appeared in the center of the chanting Magi, and it changed form as rapidly as it changed color. At the feet of the Magi was a small but deep pool that gathered the magic. Colors and streamers billowed up from its surface back to the amorphous form of light that floated above them.

  Through all of this the Magi changed their song in pitch and tone, slower then faster, then faster again before becoming so slow that each note held for several minutes. Alfrahil knew that the Magi were controlling each strand of color in a thaumaturgic dance that was well beyond his skill at interpreting, and it was only toward the end of
the song that the colored mist moved, covering Alfrahil within its confines. Alfrahil saw colors and forms that he had never seen before; nor was the effect limited to sight alone, but all of his senses—hearing, smell, taste, and touch—were stimulated. Unbelievably, Alfrahil tasted the color red, touched the color blue, and smelled the sound of rain tinkling off the leaves of the trees.

  Suddenly, Alfrahil's spirit left its body. He saw himself standing suspended within the circle as a look of total incredulity consumed his face. His spirit floated rapidly, and he soared over the tops of the trees, penetrating the mist and clouds overhead. Emerging above the cloud tops, he was amazed to see the moon shining brightly down upon the clouds and the mountain peaks that protruded from them like islands from a milky sea.

  He felt a force compelling his spirit downward, and he gazed down through the clouds at the vale below. How he was able to see so clearly he could not comprehend, but he did. Nor did his sight simply extend in front of him. It flew simultaneously in all directions, piercing the veil of distance and even, or so it seemed to him for a moment, that of time itself, as if, like the Magi, he were able to glimpse into the future. But his mortal mind recoiled from these immensities. He felt as if his head would shatter with the chaotic onslaught of images and sensations he lacked the ability to understand or control.

  Then, just as it seemed he could withstand no more, the song of the Magi faded away. The colored cloud drifted upward and away from Alfrahil, and he felt both a tremendous loss and an enormous relief as his spirit returned to his exhausted body.