Mystic Faerie War

by James Day

  She sat there for an hour attempting to get the light to come to her palm until she gave up. “Stupid magic,” she cursed for the first time realizing she had let down her guard. He was having a strange effect on her and she felt an urge to see him again. Then she shook it off and swallowed her pride. She made herself a promise, if he could learn her skills then she could learn his skills.

  Every night in secret she practiced the words until she was utterly exhausted. She held out her palm, but no light came forth. What was she doing wrong? She wondered. Why was there a mental block? It was just a stupid spell. She went to bed woke up the next day, trained her men and returned to her sleeping quarters. She stayed up late practicing until the ancient Elven tongue flew out of her mouth fluently, but the light did not come. Frustration and anger overtook her, and she took her broadsword and smashed the table in the room. Others ran to see if she was injured and inquired as to what had happened, but she shrugged them off. She realized she was jealous of him; he had put her in this situation. Llyendrie would pay tomorrow. She would make an example of him. She would challenge him in the ring.

  The next day she challenged him in the ring as all the Elven Warriors watched in a circle. She gave him all of the weapons and he had asked her several times why she was so short with him. What had he done wrong? She simply dismissed his questions and at the ring of the bell they battled. They used all of the tricks in the book, they parried and thrusted and jabbed. Both used their wrestling techniques, jumping and leaping like two wild cats. A few times she had the upper hand then he would get out of it and gain ground on her. They flipped each other, knives jostling in the wind, then she cut him accidentally on the face. It was a small scratch as the onlookers became suddenly silent. He continued fighting her with all of his being as he remembered everything, she had taught him. They rolled and sparred again, slamming each other with fists and parrying with swords. The fight went on for ten minutes and finally she flipped him onto his stomach. She went to jump, and he rolled pointing his knife right at her throat. The crowd cheered because he had beaten her, and he was the first to win in a sparring contest. Very few Elven Warriors could do that. He extended his hand to help her up and she slapped it aside with dishonor. She left the ring. Little did she know that Queen Ellandree was watching the sparring match secretly left after he won the battle. That night the Elves celebrated him with wine and ale. They drank to her defeat, but he did not feel happy in his win. Something was bothering him, and he knew he had to talk to her.

  After most of the recruits had returned to their quarters he snuck off to her room. He knocked on the door and she answered, her eyes cold and distant.

  “Have you come to gloat?” she said with a stern face.

  “What have I done wrong?” he examined her harsh eyes trying to probe her for answers.

  “Your training is complete. Go back to the Spellmakers and resume your studies. We are done.”

  “Oh, I see,” he said. “I will continue my training until the end of the Summer then I will return to my studies. You are stuck with me.”

  “Very well, good night,” she slammed the door shut.

  As he left the quarters a woman in a cloak came to the door and knocked.

  The door swung open almost coming off its hinges as she screamed, “I said good night.” Then she fell back in shock.

  It was Queen Ellandree.

  “I apologize,” she bowed and stood on one knee for a long moment trying to hold back the tears.

  “I saw the contest between the both of you,” she took her hand and made her rise while they made their way over to the bed.

  “I acted like a fool; I am an embarrassment to Elven Warriors. I will resign,” she put her head down.

  The Queen took her hand in hers. “I know what troubles you child and you need to face it. You are in love with him.”

  “No,” tears welled up in her eyes as she broke down. “We cannot be together, he is a Spellmaker and I am a She-Elf Warrior. You are wrong,” she stood up and walked to the window.

  “I know what love is and I see it, but is your heart ready to accept it,” she simply spoke. “I will not accept your resignation and as far as I am concerned you will continue to train him.”

  “But he knows all of the techniques of a Warrior,” she turned to her. “There is nothing else I can show him.”

  “Perhaps, it is not you, but he who is to show you what you have been missing. You are our finest Warrior, but you still have a lot to learn. You do have honor, fidelity and all those qualities of a leader, but you lack one.”

  “What is it?” she begged.

  “You must discover that for yourself,” Queen Ellandree rose and headed for the door. “You will continue to train him and treat him as your equal. You will stop your childish temper tantrums and complete the mission I have given you. No one shall know of our little talk, not even the King. Now, get some sleep and I will see you and him in my study in one week.”

  She bowed on one knee. “Thank you, your Highness, for giving me this chance to redeem myself. I shall apologize to him and continue training.”

  The Queen left and she closed the doors and began crying.

  The next day, they trained and Llyendrie and Shydrie said little to each other. After she had watched him spar with the men. She grabbed him by the arm and took him up to the oak tree where they would enjoy a piece of fruit. She cut a pare and handed him some slices. He ate slowly and stood staring at the encampment below.

  “Have you been practicing?” he asked her.

  “Practicing what?” she snapped and then regretted being so angry.

  “The spell of light,” he said.

  “I have spent days and night memorizing the words. I try and I try, but nothing happens. I get so angry,” she admitted. “I cannot do a simple trick,” she added.

  “Affairs of the heart are no simple trick,” he told her, and she peered into his eyes. “You have neglected one of the lessons I taught you. You must feel with your heart then the spell will come to you.”

  Once more he rose and left her at the top of the hill as he made his way down. She pondered his words, Maybe, her heart was not fully in it because she was not taking it seriously.”

  She opened her palm and relaxed her mind and thought about his kindness and all of the trials that had been through. She thought about how stupid he looked on the first day running down the road in his robes. She thought about how she flipped, and he got back up and took all of her berating. She said the words genuinely believing with all of her heart.

  Then suddenly light appeared in her palm. It was a small faint flicker which grew with every moment. Her heart raced as she stood up and examined it. Then she willed it away with a smile.

  She realized she had been wrong. She had not fully believed and that is why she failed.

  Later that night, she went to his quarters in secrecy and knocked on the door. He opened it to see her dressed in a cloak.

  “May I come in for a moment?” she asked.

  “Sure,” he said as he sat at a table. She sat at the other end and held out her palm. She smiled at him and said the enchantment. White light exploded forth from her palm and it grew brighter as it almost blinded him. He raised his hand up to stave off the glow and the light faded.

  “It appears you have passed the test,” he said holding her hand then withdrawing, but she grabbed his hand again. She held it and looked into his eyes. There was no holding their feelings back as sat in silence enjoying each other’s company.

  “This is wrong in all ways,” he said.

  “I know,” she bent over her emerald green eyes sparkling.

  They kissed.

  The next day was spent as if the kiss did not happen. They both went about their business smiling and enjoying the day. The recruits were now coming to fruition and Llyendrie fought them one by one as some got the upper hand, but most failed. In the end no one beat him. He had gained the admiration of the entire encampment. He looked
around as she took him aside.

  “I will miss you,” she said with a smile. “You have been my best student. You have mastered the Elven Warrior skills. You must practice every so often to keep them intact.”

  “You must continue to practice the spell,” he smiled “There are some other tricks I can show you. I can teach you to create fireballs from thin air and least use that as a skill.”

  “I would like that.”

  A scream broke the glen as Dyrllyn came down out of nowhere. He stood in front of the others and collapsed. The Elven Healers were immediately called, and he was tended to. They brought him to a building where the warriors were given potions for injuries. After an hour, he said that he could not explain what had happened Only that all of the Elven Trackers were discovered dead. Something had killed them.

  The new recruits were sworn in as word was sent to Queen Ellandree and King Allergeron and guards were posted.

  Shydrie took a party of five and Llyendrie decided to join them. They took off to where the bodies were found. Two had been utterly burned alive. Their skeleton remains were blackened with smell of death. Dyrllyn was going to lead them to the other bodies.

  They approached outskirts of Elvengrove where the forest became more natural. Dyrllyn rode his stag as he moved with ease, now fully healed, and bent on recovering his dead men. Another group wrapped the dead in sheets and loaded them onto the wagon. They had also been burned by fire. The Spellmaker said some incantations as a beam of light exploded in his hands, it was getting dark and sunset would be occurring very soon.

  They found the rest of the bodies that were found in different forms, some were twisted, others had their throats slashed, but what could be so quick and deadly.

  Queen Ellandree appeared with her full Elven Guard and fifty elves. King Allergeron looked on with his broadsword drawn as a lonely figure dressed in a black cowl walked to the edge of Elvengrove. A staff was in his right hand as he stopped.

  The King gave the command as arrows were drawn to face whatever monster had invaded their Elven Homeland. A silent hush gripped the Elves as the strange moved closer.

  “Halt and reveal yourself,” Queen Ellandree commanded.

  The stranger took down his hood and a man of twenty with hazel eyes started back, he was half elven with a short-cropped beard. His hunting boots were brown and wore brown leggings and a leather vest, his shirt was white and short cropped without a collar.

  “I have come a long way, Elven Queen,” the man said with a booming voice.

  “Who are you?” She asked.

  “Don’t you recognize me? I am Mystic Dayven. “I have come to warn you that something great his happening in the World of Faerie. Half of the mounds throughout the Kingdom have been stricken with a black ash. The others remain protected. Something from the World of Faerie has come to plague the Kingdom of Shannon all of the races to destroy our peace. The Fae people call to us for help and we must act.”

  Then another stranger came from behind him and was his height. He wore a black cowl and was six feet standing. He took off his cowl to reveal his face. He was dressed in black hunting garb and carried knives and short sword on the hilt of his belt. His black wavy hair with red highlights beamed in the setting of the sun. No one recognized him, then Shydrie walked over to the man.

  “You are Dunnganon, the Boy-Mystic” she said as the others looked at him.

  “Yes. I do not age as others do,” the teenager came forward as the others looked in wonder. His face was smooth and full of innocence while dark eyes stared at them, but a pleasant smile pierced his mouth.

  “We must hold an Elven Council. We need all of the Spellmakers there.” Mystic Dayen said.

  “I am the head Spellmakers,” Llyendrie spoke out. “Do you know what did this to our Elven Warriors?”

  “Yes,” Dayven responded. “A new evil has risen in the Kingdom of Shannon and the Fire Imps are free.”

  The others stood there in silence as the sun set.

  TWO

  In the Kingdom of Shannon, the heat was dissipating as the sun set in the west and a new moon came out. The surrounding forests were darker than normal and there seemed to be unease. It was as if the woodlands were coming alive to speak their minds. All night long noises of creaking came from the forest and huge timberlands. Fireflies were swarming this night as Prince Grandur sat in the garden watching a five-year-old girl, Laurinda. The little girl was playing in green hunter’s garb clothes and swaying a fake sword back and forth. She moved with a purpose and stealth making pretend to cut down all of the enemy. Prince Grandur was dressed in his robes with a knife at his side. Sentries overlooked the great torrents of Shannon which skyrocketed up into the clouds. Rooms filled with all kinds of furniture, paintings and crystal peppered the high castle. Huge bay windows with verandahs were at every ledge as flags flew overhead. It was getting late. Prince Grandur had a short-cropped beard and he was now approaching twenty-one. King Grandur, his father approached. He was a jolly old soul with a round pot belly and wore a golden crown on his head. His face was old haggard from years of wear and tear. A white silver beard hung low as he came out in a robe. It was an informal family gathering. The King loved watching his granddaughter play with fireflies. She was very gentle with because she said they were magic. Laurinda had been born with a full set of pointed Elven ears even though she was just a girl. She had inherited that from her Elven side of the bloodline.

  Just then, Noleann, a Bounty Huntress came out dressed in full sentries clothing after training the troops on combat all day long. Her chestnut hair fell shoulder length and bright eyes smiled with rosy cheeks. She made quick movements and picked up the girl.

  “How is my baby doing today?” She brushed Laurinda’s hair back which was chestnut red and hazel eyes. Little eyebrows looked up as the girl yawned.

  Another figure came out into the garden as a servant brought a tray of drinks. It was tea with lemon water. Each was given a glass as Prince Grandur took two. He smiled at his wife, Noleann and their child Laurinda. They were everything he could ask for in a family. Over the years, the Prince and Noleann had been together and came to an understanding. She would be head of training Drummond’s armies. The General had more pressing matters to deal with then just the army. He had to make sure the races did not have any borderline skirmishes and he had to keep trade open. Frequently the Dwarves, Gnomes and Elves visited the Kingdom to discuss such matters. Many of the Elders of their Council were getting old and senile and it was time for them to be replaced. The Prince would choose his best people for this issue.

  A shadow came upon the group as Prince Grandur’s twin brother. Prince Alec sat down in the night air. He was handed a lemon water. The two brothers spent the day together joking around. Prince Alec had played with his niece half of the day. He enjoyed her and his families company. He was staying the summer at the Kingdom of Shannon then he would return to Iclandia to be with his wife.

  Years before, he had abdicated the throne to a Nomad named Quaid who was rightful heir to the Kingdom of Iclandia. The Kingdom of Iclandia resided in Upper Maze Mountains in the Northlands and was sight to behold. King Grandur had kept the twin boys secret. When the twins had been born and he sent one of them north when his wife died while Prince Grandur was raised by gypsies and out on his own. He had only come back to Shannon to defeat the evil Mystic Zandu and reunite with his father. Prince Alec held no animosity toward his father, he had been raised privileged in Iclandia by caring parents who ruled the Kingdom. He and Prince Grandur had met six years ago during a battle between the Darkmages and Quaid the Nomad. They had gone to Fire Rock Crater to defeat the Crimson Seekers. Prince Alec had gone back home but came down for the summers to spend it with his true bloodline. In that time, they shared their history love and friendship.

  Prince Alec was dressed in red robe and had lose fitting clothes on to keep him cool. He had shaved his beard and kept his face smooth. Brown shoulder length hair fell gently on his shoul
ders. His thin body was wiry and agile. He could outrun almost anyone except his brother. He had trained with Noleann over the summer and it learned all the tricks she had to offer.

  The trees groaned again as they looked out in the distance and Noleann stood up.

  “I think Laurinda needs to be put to bed,” she told one of maidens who took the girl. The girl kissed them all goodnight as she went off to bed.

  “Something troubles you?” Prince Grandur came up to her wrapping his arms around her back. She playfully pulled them away as she giggled for the first time.

  “Stop that,” she laughed. “Something is wrong. I sense it. The forest is uneasy.”

  “How can a forest be uneasy,” Prince Alec said jokingly. “It’s just a forest.”

  “Forests have lore,” Prince Grandur said. “Especially these forests. Ever since the Hearthstone Sword was returned and Promise restored the wilderlands have come to life.”

  “After what we went through with the Crimson Seekers destroying the Southlands, Midlands and Skydark, I’ll believe anything,” the Prince said. “Well I am turning in for the night,” he said as he stood up and handed a maiden his glass. “Goodnight all.”

  He left the garden.

  King Grandur nodded to the both of them. “Why don’t you take a walk in the forest. Maybe it will shake that eerie feeling you have. Face your fears,” he laughed. “There’s no moon so it will be darker, just go into outskirts of our forest. Check it for yourselves. I am sure that there is nothing wrong.”

  He turned and went inside.

  Prince Grandur and Noleann held hands as they kissed. They began moving away from the garden toward the towering oaks. The chirping grasshoppers made their beautiful sounds as crows settled in their nests for a night’s rest. The duo moved slowly examining the fireflies in the forest. They glowed incandescent green swarming, leading them deep into the forest. This was one of their nightly walks they took to have some time for themselves. It was a far cry from five years ago when she had been bequeathed the Staff of Power and inherited its magic which had infused with her. Her cousin Dayven and Mystic Allenor had helped her to keep her powers dormant, because she did not want to use them. She had the Mystic fire blood within but kept it at bay. It had been years since she had used it to protect herself as she recalled fighting the faerie magic of the Destroyer at Mayens Hall during the battle with the Crimson Seekers.