by Jordan Baker
He reached for another bottle, then he changed his mind, deciding that perhaps he had already had enough for today, whatever day it was, and instead of a bottle, something else appeared in his hand. He looked at it and recognized the book, but it was different than how he remembered it. Even though it seemed solid to the touch, it appeared to be strangely translucent as though it was some kind of illusion, like it was only partially there. Curious that it would have returned, and hoping that whatever was happening in the world was less difficult than the thoughts that were rattling around inside his head of late, Dash opened the book, and he saw the one place he had been trying to forget, the room where it had all happened.
The images shifted and Dash watched as the book showed him the palace, fallen to ruin, then the city, dark and without life. He closed the book, then he threw it into the fire, but it flew through the flames as though they were not even there and landed on the dark, starlit firmament on the other side. Dash stared at the book through the flickering orange glow and his face turned red as a wash of emotions rolled through him and the fog that had plagued his thoughts burned away, leaving him raw and empty, alone with his memories, now fresh as though the things that haunted him had happened only yesterday.
*****
Calexis felt it as soon as it happened. Her connection to the mages had been severed, and she could no longer feel their power or their thoughts. She knew that Stroma and the annoying mage Stavros had been trying to find the books, but she did not expect that they would find all of them. One of them was not even in the world, banished to another existence, so far away that even she could not reach out to it. How it could have been retrieved, let alone located, was a mystery, and an irritating one, but perhaps Stroma had some means that he had kept secret, which was further proof of his deceit and she hated him all the more for it.
Angered, she reached out to her soldiers in the city and was pleased that they were still in her control. She did not need the book any longer, for her magic had surpassed that of the great Stroma, the eldest of the gods. Calexis sent the soldiers to the temple, where she found several mages, withered and weak, trying to escape. The soldiers were already dead and the mages had little power since she had been draining them relentlessly, so she knew the mages could be contained, but it appeared as though a few had slipped away. Calexis knew they would not get far, and she enjoyed the fact that their own power, which she had taken from them would seal their fate, and she made her way from the palace to the temple, where she would work her own magic upon them, bringing them back into the fold, for the mages of the priesthood still had work to do.
So consumed by her anger was she, as she stormed through the streets, and so focused on finding the one she sought, the one she knew must be here in the city, that Calexis did not notice the slight tremor of another power moving through the city, expertly hidden from her sight, but still close enough that, had she been paying attention, she would have seen him. Stavros froze as the dark queen passed by with a group of soldiers, marching toward the temple, and with a furious expression on her strangely beautiful reptilian face and a darkness around her that seemed as though it would draw in everything around it. Indeed, her power and the shadow that flowed through her had almost disrupted the spell Stavros had used to conceal himself. Whatever had happened, Calexis did not look very pleased about it, and Stavros did not want to be on the receiving end of her wrath, for he had other more pressing matters. He turned a corner and made his way down a darkened side street and he stopped when he saw a black robed mage, kneeling on the dirty cobbles, bent over and coughing. Carefully, not sure what to expect, Stavros approached and saw that the mage was a young woman, or at least she would have been, but her face was prematurely lined with the signs of great age. Stavros felt a gentle touch on his power, and he realized that the mage could sense his presence since he was standing so close to her.
"Please," she croaked between coughs. "Help me."
Stavros did not know what to do. If the mage was still under the control of the god, he would end up revealing himself and jeopardizing everything he had been trying to do, but he could not simply leave her there. Still, she knew someone was there, so that much was already apparent, whether she was subject to the dark god or not. Stavros pulled a small glass vial of liquid from one of the pockets of his robe and he carefully set it down right in front of her hand, then he continued on his way. The vial would restore her a little, enough that she might be able to hide herself and escape from the city, if she was lucky. Just before he turned a corner, Stavros glanced over his shoulder and saw that she had picked up the vial and he silently regretted that he could not do more.
Calexis entered the temple, where a group of mages were hiding in an alcove, throwing weak blasts of magic at the soldiers who had hemmed them in. A crackling ball of fire and lightning flew at her and she swatted it aside, smashing it into several of the soldiers behind her. The rest of them moved back, clearing the way as Calexis walked toward the alcove.
"What is the matter, my faithful followers?" she asked, her voice soft and soothing, but the mages did not answer. Calexis could see four of them, crouched behind the stone columns of the temple alcove. "There is still much to be done."
"We no longer serve you," one of them yelled.
"Oh, but you do serve me," Calexis said. "You are living conduits of power, and it is your purpose to serve me, but it matters not if you wish to defy me, for I do not require your faith, only your obedience."
Calexis summoned her power and dark energy coursed through the air, clawing its way around the pillars and grasping the mages. She felt them fighting her, their weakened bodies unable to resist her power and their pathetic attempts at magical attacks sparking and falling short. With her power, she dragged them out of the alcove and into the center of the temple where the giant crystal hovered, glowing with unnatural light. Without the book, she would have to subject them to the same spell as the people of the city, which would likely make them less able to work their magic in her service, but it no longer mattered. So long as they kept the magic of the crystals aligned, they were of use to her, and she cursed the fact that one of them appeared to be missing, for she did not want to use the full power of the spell over the entire city just for one person. She would send the soldiers out to search the city and the remaining four would just have to work extra hard to carry out their task.
"Please," one of the mages stammered through his dry, cracked lips. "If you won't release us, then let us die."
"When the time comes, you will die," Calexis told him. "Until then, you will do my will."
And with a crack of power, the mages were caught by the dark magic of the crystal, and Calexis felt their connection to her once again. The mages fell to the floor in heaps of black cloth over skin and bones, then they slowly rose to their feet and returned to their tasks, tending to the crystals that were placed around the inside of the temple. With a curl of her lip, she cursed the fact that she had killed so many of the mages, but soon it would no longer matter, and she would be free of this petty magic, once and for all.
"There is one more," she said, turning to the soldiers. "Find her and bring her to me."
CHAPTER EIGHT
Kaleb found Nathas fully dressed and sitting up in bed, in an ornately furnished room the elves had provided for him in the inner city. Sitting in a chair next to the bed was a richly dressed elf, who smiled at him as he entered the room.
"Lord Kaleb Alaran," he said as he stood from the chair. "It is opportune for you to visit, as I had intended to see you next. I am Rolan, a member of the royal court."
"Rolan," Kaleb said, greeting the elf with a nod, then he looked over at Nathas. "How is our friend doing?"
"I am fine," Nathas said, his voice hoarse but strong. "The elven healers tell me I shouldn't do any heavy lifting for a time, but I should be right as rain within a day or so. They even fixed my shoulder, which had been giving me some trouble since I fell in the river a while back.
In fact, I am already feeling well enough to get back to my duties."
"General Nathas, the healers said you were to rest here for at least another day," Rolan told him.
"Nonsense," Nathas replied as he rose from the bed. He stumbled a little and Kaleb caught his hand, clasping his arm in a greeting.
"Good to see you up and about, Nathas," Kaleb said, then he turned to Rolan. "Your people do excellent work."
"Healing is like growing," Rolan replied, giving Nathas a skeptical look as he steadied himself on his feet. "It is part of our essence to concern ourselves with such things."
"You have our thanks," Kaleb told him. "I would have been down for days from the arrow that pierced my back."
"It made quite an impression when you addressed the court as you did, covered in blood and with a bolt sticking from you," Rolan said.
"Good. I hope the elves are taking the threat seriously."
"Prince Quenta has ridden out to investigate your report of these winged lizard men and the poison smoke you spoke about."
"Well let's hope he doesn't catch any of it," Nathas said. "Just a whiff of the stuff is enough to drop a man."
"That is precisely the reason I came to see you," Rolan said, and he walked over to a nearby table and unfolded a cloth bundle. "Her highness, Queen Laurana has asked me to present both of you with a rare gift."
He turned and held out two elven masks in each hand.
"Fancy," Kaleb said as he took one and inspected it.
"Rolan, please extend our gratitude to Queen Laurana," Nathas said, glancing over at his friend as he took the other one.
"How do these masks help with that poison smoke?" Kaleb asked.
"They don't," Rolan replied with a smile, then he turned and unrolled the bundle a little more and pulled out two short, curved hollow sticks that looked like misshapen flutes, handing one to each of them. "The masks are so you may visit the inner city without causing a fuss. The queen asked that you be given these as well. They should help with the poison smoke, should you encounter it again. They are called windflutes, which allow you to breathe in places where there is no air. They were made for swimming in the deep waters off the western coast of our lands, so perhaps you can find some other uses for them as well."
Kaleb and Nathas could tell that Rolan was skeptical about the poison, but they were glad that the queen apparently believed their story.
"Thank you for these," Kaleb said, holding up one of the sticks, then he held up the mask. "Your people really don't like outsiders all that much, do they?"
"No, we do not," Rolan said, and both Nathas and Kaleb understood that Rolan very much shared that sentiment.
"Well, then," Nathas said. "We are grateful for your generous hospitality and hope that our efforts to help defend the forest are of some use, if not appreciation."
"I will take my leave," Rolan said, bowing his head slightly, then he turned and walked from the room.
"Did I miss anything?" Kaleb asked, glancing after the elf.
"Not particularly," Nathas said. "Just before you arrived, Rolan asked why we would risk fight those lizards when we were clearly outnumbered."
"Did you tell him that's what friends and allies do for each other?" Kaleb snorted.
"I said something to that effect," Nathas replied, then he shook his head. "I don't particularly like the way the likes of Rolan or Quenta view the world, but I'll not stand by and see their people harmed, especially by their own foolish arrogance. I could tell that Rolan didn't like hearing that sort of thing, but I am too old and too battleworn to much care if he takes offense. It was particularly bothersome when he suggested that the lizard men had come here as retribution because the elves participated in the battle at Kandara and have given sanctuary to our remaining soldiers and the people who fled the north."
"He actually believes that?" Kaleb was shocked.
"Rolan and his ilk will seek any excuse not to get involved," Nathas said. "It is not a new thing, nor is it unique to the elves either. Most people just want to be left alone to live their lives, but when dark forces decide to come knocking at the gates, sometimes they won't just go away when you tell them."
"Even worse when they refuse to pay attention when the enemy has already broken down the door," Kaleb said. "I guess they can talk to the trees, because they kept saying that the trees haven't told them of any threat. I've been trying to tell them that if the trees are being poisoned then maybe they can't talk, or however it is they communicate."
"Well, it seems they believed you enough to dig up these breathing sticks," Nathas said. "Whatever the case, Quenta and his elven warriors are excellent fighters and they have already fought the lizard men, so at least they aren't walking blind to meet the enemy, but I hope they fare better than we did at Kandara."
"If these winged Darga are here, destroying the forest, I would imagine that they are an advance force, clearing the path for a larger army," Kaleb said.
"I do not doubt it," Nathas agreed. "Once Quenta reports back, the rest of the elves will have no choice but to recognize the threat."
"And what about our people?" Kaleb asked. "We have a good many soldiers that can lend their strength to the fight."
"I would imagine that scouting is fine, but we cannot mobilize the soldiers. The elves have made it very clear that must wait for the people of the forest to ask for our help," Nathas said. "Still, there is much that can be done to strengthen our defenses, and it occurs to me that the elven builders who the queen was generous enough to send, might be willing to make some changes if we asked them nicely. I think it would be wise to fortify the area as much as possible."
Kaleb and Nathas both knew that war was coming to the elven forest, whether the elves were ready to believe it or not.
"Do you think you will be well enough to ride by morning?" Kaleb asked.
"I will have to be," Nathas said. "An opponent seldom waits."
*****
Under the cover of evening shadows, Quenta stepped out from behind a branch of dead, withered leaves and saw the enemy camp in a space amid countless fallen trees that lay blackened upon the ground, their thick trunks splintered under their own weight and their wood already crumbling. He and his warriors had encountered many such places among the trees that were already dead, poisoned by the smoke the Darga had spread, but this part of the forest, close to the river that bordered the elven lands was worse than anything he had seen. The smoke and flame of cooking fires within the elven forest was offensive enough, but the death of so many trees moved him to a cold fury and it was all he could do to contain his wrath.
In the shadows, Quenta and a small group of elves flitted over the trunks of fallen trees, keeping out of sight and scouting close to the enemy encampment. It was larger than he had expected and it looked to be growing in size as more lizard men and soldiers continued to arrive from the far side of the river, which was now spanned by a crude bridge made from thick trees that had been felled on either bank. A much wider encampment of soldiers was growing near the river, while the clearing teemed with Darga, who were feasting on various animals that had apparently died in the forest. Quenta secretly wished that whatever had poisoned them would kill the lizard creatures, but it evidently had no effect upon them, for the Darga appeared to feast with great abandon.
At the center of the forward encampment was what looked like a large command tent, with another group of Darga gathered around it. These creatures appeared different from the ones in the larger force that surrounded them, and they were not just winged as the Maramyrian commanders had reported, but they also appeared to be larger, and more powerful than the others. Many of them also wore armor and carried swords, and from watching them for a short time, Quenta could tell that they even moved differently, their actions far more predatory, even when simply walking about the camp.
While the regular Darga soldiers were certainly dangerous foes, these others looked to be far more troublesome. Quenta motioned for his warriors to remain st
ill as a group of winged Darga leapt into the air and began to circle over the camp, a number of them flying almost right above where they were hidden among the fallen trees. Another group appeared from the command tent, and headed directly toward them. As they drew closer, another figure became visible among them. His face was less reptilian, and though he was leaner in stature than a few of the Darga that accompanied him, he looked far more dangerous, and the oversized axe he carried over one shoulder as though it weighed less than a twig, spoke of his strength As he drew closer, Quenta recognized him as the one who had commanded many of the lizard men during the battle at Kandara, and he recognized the giant axe that had belonged to the Duke of that land. From the Maramyrans, Quenta had learned the name of Draxis, the half-Darga Xallan Prince, but the last time he had seen him, he had been crushed by the claws of the dragon king, Eric of Kandara.
"I know you are there," Draxis rasped, his dry voice accentuating his sneering tone. "Do you come to skulk about in the shadows like cowards or do you come to fight?"
Quenta remained silent, staring at the half-Darga and he realized that he quickly realized that he was looking right at him. Without looking away, he motioned for his warriors to scatter as Draxis hefted his great axe from his shoulder and leapt into the air, flying right toward him. Quenta leapt back as the axe cleaved the tree in two, its giant blade cutting the air where he had been standing.