First Sorcerer

by Kyle Johnson

Aranos laughed at her words. “I’ve never been much of a teacher,” he admitted. “We’d be likely to end up with a whole generation of Sorcerers who light themselves on fire.”

  Geltheriel chuckled as she led him to a large, ornate door that seemed almost identical to the one he used to travel to Haerobel. “And here we are,” she proclaimed. “I do not know where it will lead, but surely it will be better than this ruin.”

  “Hopefully,” he agreed, although internally he thought, although the way this Quest is going…

  He placed his hand hesitantly on the door and was immediately rewarded with a prompt:

  Aranos hesitated only slightly before selecting ‘Yes’. He was ready to head back to Eredain and finish this quest. Seriously, this has to be the hardest freaking Class Trainer Quest I’ve ever heard of! He grumbled silently. I’ve barely even entered the game world, yet.

  He heard a clang as some kind of lock shifted within the door. The pair stepped back as a narrow line appeared where the double doors joined, a line of brilliant, white light. The doors creaked as they swung slowly open, spilling light into the shadowy hall. The light swirled and shifted, creating radiant patterns that just eluded Aranos’ understanding.

  He stepped forward but stopped when he saw Geltheriel holding back, her face drawn with fear. “Are you okay?” he asked her cautiously. “This will probably lead back to Eredain, you know.”

  She shook her head. “I am aware,” she said in a trembling voice. “But…I do not know if I can do this, aleen. The last time I went through this door…” She broke off, unable to finish, and he felt a stab of pity go through him as he understood.

  “Hey, it’s different this time,” he said with quiet reassurance. “And I’m not talking about the light color or anything. It’s different because this time, I’m with you. I won’t let anything happen to you, Geltheriel.”

  “It…it takes you over,” she said softly, her voice numb. “It takes your mind, and you don’t know what is happening. You cannot protect me when you are fighting your own battle for control, Oathbinder.”

  “No,” he said firmly. “It can’t take me. It tried last time, and it failed, and now I’m immune to it. I will be there, and I will protect you.” He reached out and took her hand, gently. She flinched away for a moment but then gripped his fiercely.

  “Just hold tight,” he told her. “Focus on that feeling. So long as you’re holding onto me, you’re okay. You can do this, Geltheriel.”

  The woman took a deep breath and nodded quickly, although Aranos could feel her arm trembling through his fingers. He stepped forward, pulling her gently but firmly with him, and stepped into the blazing, white light.

  The light exploded around him, wrapping his senses and tangling his limbs in its radiance. It was warm and soothing, easing his pains and relaxing him in a way he hadn’t felt since entering the Fallen Land. The light seeped under his eyelids, crawled into his open mouth, tried to plunge into him, but he tensed, prepared to fight back, and it quickly withdrew. The light swirled, churned, and then parted, depositing him gently into the open air.

  It was night, he could tell from the cool air and darkness behind his closed eyes. He checked his clock and grunted in surprise. Almost midnight, he realized. It wasn’t dark when we left Haerobel, was it? Actually, I guess it had to have been, since it was light out when I passed out for half a day. My internal clock is totally messed up.

  He opened his eyes to find a crowd of dozens of elves standing before him, most of them staring in stunned amazement from a distance of perhaps 40 feet. The elves were being held back by a group of warriors in green armor, and he recognized xxx, the elf who he had first met in the forest, among the group. He glanced back and realized he was stepping out of a door that was, again, almost identical to the one in the Trials, although this one had slightly different runes traced around its periphery, different enough, at least, for him to notice.

  “The Traveler returns!” a voice called from the crowd, and hushed whispers raced through the assembly at those words. The armored elves quickly turned to face him, and he noticed more than one hand resting on a weapon as they did. “The aleen is a Traveler!” someone else yelled. “He has passed the Trials!” More whispers followed that statement, although Aranos heard an equal number of muttered voices and even some angry tones in the crowd.

  He stepped forward again, his hand still gripping Geltheriel’s, and pulled the woman forward through the doorway. As he did, the crowd gasped once more, and this time, the angry shouts were much louder than simple mutterings.

  “A Shadowborn!” someone screamed, and another voice yelled, “The Traveler brings a Shadowborn into the city!” “Ainairian was right!” another called out, and the crowd took a nervous step back as the armored elves stepped forward, all with weapons in hand, now.

  Aranos looked at Geltheriel, expecting her to speak, but her face was drawn and pale, and her eyes were blank with fear. Her entire body trembled, and the black veins of Corruption could be seen rising from her throat into her cheeks clearly.

  “An asura!” someone else screamed in a voice near panic. One of the warriors before Aranos growled, “You betray us, Traveler! You bring an asura in our midst, one with Geltheriel’s form, thinking we would not know our own?”

  The elf raced forward suddenly, drawing his sword, and on reflex Aranos wrapped him in a Crystal Prison, freezing his movements. “Stop!” the aleen shouted. “It’s not what you think!”

  Another pair of the warriors was moving forward, though, and Aranos called up his Entangling Web, wrapping all the green-armored elves in its grip. A few of them froze, trapped, but most were moving slowly through it, and Aranos despairingly began the cast for his hailstorm, knowing that it would catch some of the bystanders but not willing to die over the elves’ prejudices. He raised his hands to summon the spell, but before he could, a hand grabbed his arm.

  “Stop this at once!” Geltheriel barked from beside him, pulling his hand back and glaring at him and the approaching warriors. “Silevon, Gruithor, have you lost all of your senses? What foolishness would bring you to attack a Traveler?”

  The warriors halted for a moment, their eyes suddenly doubtful. “How do you know my name?” the nearest elf growled, staring at the woman with eyes tinged with fear. “What manner of rakhshasa are you, that you can do this?”

  “I am no demon,” she growled right back, her gaze unflinching. “I am Geltheriel Meluiben, daughter of Arodwen, Keeper of Eredain, and this Traveler has freed me from imprisonment in a Fallen Land!” At her words, more muttering moved through the crowd, and the warrior opened his mouth to speak, but Dorn’ar’el, the elf Aranos recognized, stopped him with an upraised hand.

  “Traveler,” Dorn’ar’el spoke with authority. “You have returned and proven your identity. However, you have brought one who claims the identity of one of our proudest Keepers, with whom I spoke this very morning. Surely, you can understand our…concern?”

  As the elf spoke, Aranos noticed the crowd growing larger, with more of the green-armored elves moving through the crowd toward the disturbance. This could go really badly if there’s a fight, he realized with a sinking feeling. I don’t even know if Geltheriel will fight with me, to be honest. I’d be asking her to hurt her own people.

  “Call Ainarian!” a voice spoke from the crowd. “Summon Golloron!” another replied. The elves were growing restless, with lots of angry mutterings and hard looks being passed around.

  “There is no need to call for me,” a voice announced as a disturbance appeared in the back of the crowd, slowly moving forward toward the confrontation. “I have come.” The crowd parted with respectful murmurs as a tall, extremely handsome elf strode into the open space, surrounded by several elves in green armor, all of whom had hands on their weapons and grim faces. The elf stood in robes that reminded Aranos of gleaming silk, light blue with crimson strands woven throughout in a complex pattern. His hair was ice-blue and hung down to his waist in a com
plicated braid woven through with flickering gems.

  “Ainarian,” Dorn’ar’el said in a neutral tone, inclining his head. “I do not recall summoning you…nor your followers.”

  “I could not help but come when I heard the Traveler had returned,” the elf chuckled. “After all, I have preached nothing but caution in dealing with their kind, have I not? It would not do for me to warn against them and then refuse to stand between one and the people of Eredain.” A wave of approving murmurs swept through the crowd, and more of the armored figures moved into the open space.

  “I am aware of your rumor-mongering,” Dorn’ar’el replied flatly. “Yet, Golloron has instructed that the Traveler is to be treated fairly. I will take him and this other into custody and they will be watched until he can pass judgment on this matter.”

  “Ah, yes, Golloron,” the handsome elf replied with a smile. “His wisdom is surely needed here. And yet…many have questioned his wisdom, of late, at least in regards to Travelers, have they not?” Dorn’ar’el opened his mouth, but Ainarian turned and spoke to the crowd.

  “We have all heard the stories,” he said loudly, his voice carrying easily across the crowd. “Of how Travelers have appeared across the Realm of Ka. How some of them rose among the Shadowborn. How others have gone about, murdering and looting, with no regard for law or life. If some have done this, surely all are capable of it! And yet, Golloron wishes to bring one among us?”

  The elf turned and swept his hand out toward Geltheriel. “And that one returns,” he continued, “but he brings an asura with him! One who has stolen the face of our Getheriel! I say we banish the Traveler, force him from among us, and slay his demon!”

  “Bullcrap,” Aranos suddenly spoke, his anger rising up within him. “That’s the worst load of crap I’ve ever heard spewing from someone’s mouth, elf.” The elf’s eyes went flat, but Aranos continued.

  “Do you know where we just were?” he called out to the crowd. “A Fallen Land, a destroyed elf city, lying completely in ruins.” The elves gasped and Ainarian scoffed at his words, but Aranos ignored the elf.

  “And while I was there,” he continued, “I found Geltheriel, imprisoned, forced to live in the Corruption you see in her face. I freed her, and together we discovered why that Realm fell…and freed it!”

  “Absurd!” Ainarian blurted out. “No Fallen Land has been freed since the Feast! You lie, Traveler, and…”

  “You’ve seen the notification,” Aranos replied. “I am Aranos the Ascendant, Master of Skills and First Sorcerer, but I am also Aranos the Liberator!” More whisperings filled the crowd, and he could feel the mood starting to shift.

  “It is true,” Aranos went on, “Travelers are unpredictable. They can act for selfish reasons, or be foolish, or even be evil.” He saw more faces darken, and he hurriedly added, “But they can also do amazing things, things that might seem impossible. They can be capable of acts of selflessness, of kindness, and of charity…just like the elves.

  “Do you want to know how the Realm of Haerobel fell?” Aranos called out, not waiting for an answer. “It didn’t fall to nightmare hordes, or to dark dragons, or shape-shifting demons. It fell because of an elf. Just one elf, who betrayed her whole city.” The elves gasped, and many of them shook their heads in angry denial.

  “How could an elf do this, you’re probably wondering,” he asked rhetorically. “It was because she was arrogant and was sure she knew the right thing to do…and she didn’t care who got hurt in the process.” He stared directly at Ainarian as he spoke the last words. “One elf, who destroyed an entire city out of fear and selfishness. Surely, as you said, Ainarian: if one elf is capable of this, surely all are.”

  He turned back to the crowd. “Or maybe,” he finished, “elves can have lots of personalities, many motivations…just like Travelers. They can do great good or great evil…just like Travelers. And maybe every elf should be judged by their own actions, not by what another did or what they might do. Just. Like. Travelers.” He finished, and he saw the mood in the crowd shifting. Some still had angry faces, but most looked puzzled or confused. A few were even nodding at his words.

  “Idiot Traveler,” Ainarian snarled, raising his hands, power gathering around them. “You dare to embarrass me in front of my followers? To insinuate I’m evil and twisted like that Sorceress? I’ll rip your heart out…” Wait a second, Aranos thought as he heard those words. Did he just a contraction? And how does he know about Lythienne? A dark suspicion stirred in his mind, and he felt his anger rising at the thought of it.

  Suddenly, a flash burst over the crowd, accompanied by a roar of deafening thunder, and everyone present crouched, covering their ears and flinching from the sound. “ENOUGH!” a voice roared, cowing everyone to silence. Aranos glanced up, blinking against the purple afterimage of that flash, and as his vision cleared, he saw Golloron hovering over the cloud, seated on a bank of multicolored mist that held him like a platform.

  “How dare you all bring such disruption into the Stronghold?” the elf demanded, his voice cutting. “What is the meaning of all of this?”

  “The Traveler has returned,” Dorn’ar’el spoke, bowing to the old elf. “And he has brought one with the countenance of Getheriel.”

  “He has brought a demon!” Ainarian shouted, pointing at Geltheriel. “This is not our fair Geltheriel. He seeks to Corrupt us from within, to betray us all. You must banish him or kill him…or I will do it for you!”

  “I must do nothing, Ainarian,” the old elf spoke in a voice that suddenly rang with hidden power. Ainarian flinched back as Golloron stepped off the cloud and landed lightly to stand between Aranos and the handsome elf. “Do not forget: I rule the Stronghold, not you, and I hold my place by Ability. Do you wish to challenge me for that place?” The old elf’s eyes blazed with energy, and Ainarian took another step back.

  “Forgive me, Golloron,” the elf said, bowing his head. “I was overcome by anger at the Traveler’s betrayal.”

  “Indeed, there has been a betrayal,” Golloron agreed. “Some minutes ago, Geltheriel burst into my chamber, insisting that some creature was emerging from the Trials and moving into the forest. Of course, since the protection of all is my first thought, I took her and sped us with all haste to the wynnorn tree…only to find no creature, and to be attacked by Geltheriel when I entered the tree to investigate!”

  A shocked murmur passed throughout the crowd at those words, and Ainarian looked suddenly nervous. “After I bound her,” Golloron continued, “I checked the Trials and found they had reset, meaning that the Traveler had either failed or emerged. I rushed back at once, and here we now stand…well, all except for Geltheriel.” He gestured, and the struggling form of the fake Geltheriel rose from the center of the multihued mist, her hands, feet, mouth and eyes all bound tightly in silver tendrils of vapor.

  “What have you done to Geltheriel?” Ainarian gasped. “How could you attack one of our Keepers, Golloron? I know you do not like her association with me, but…”

  Golloron laughed loudly at his words. “You think me capable of jealousy?” he chortled. “And, you think this is truly Geltheriel?”

  “No, he knows it isn’t,” Aranos spoke up at last, causing the elves to turn toward him. “He knows that’s not Geltheriel, because he left Geltheriel to die in the Fallen Realm, imprisoned, starving, and near death from thirst. That’s the real betrayal that happened tonight.”

  Golloron looked at the young aleen, his face concerned. “Traveler,” he said doubtfully, “I have known Ainarian all of his life, and I trust him very little. I watch his movements; had he traveled through an Arcane Door, I would know.”

  “Then this isn’t Ainarian,” Aranos insisted. “In fact, I don’t even think it’s an elf.”

  “He lies,” Ainarian spat scornfully, contempt dripping from his words. “He is like all Travelers, deceitful and untrustworthy. Kill him and his demon, now!”

  “It is a simple matter to resolve,” Golloron s
aid thoughtfully. “The Spell to reveal a true form is…”

  “Graz’takik!” Before the old elf could finish, Ainarian raised his hands and screamed a word that burned in Aranos’ mind and forced him to clap his hands to his ears. “Kill the old fool! Kill them all!”

  An explosion of black and crimson flame erupted from the ground between Golloron and Ainarian, knocking everyone nearby but Ainarian from their feet. A giant form rose from the flames, 10 feet tall with jet-black fur, a leonine head and legs, clawed hands, and a long, sweeping tail. An aura of ebon fire licked at its skin, and crimson flames dripped from its empty eye sockets and open maw. It lifted its head and roared, leaping at the fallen Golloron.

  At the same instant, the guards surrounding Ainarian and a number of armored figures in the crowd drew their weapons and leaped at the remaining guards, who struggled to pull their weapons and defend themselves.

  Dorn’ar’el turned towards Golloron as the nightmare creature flew toward the old elf, but a massive burst of wind erupted from Golloron’s hands and slammed into the monster, hurling it backward. “Apprehend the traitors!” Golloron commanded. “I will deal with the rakshasa!”

  Aranos turned toward Ainarian, who stared at him in fury. “You ruined everything!” he screamed, more magic swirling along his fists. “What, was it a Quest? Am I part of a Quest now?” He raised his hand and sent a flash of electricity arcing toward Aranos, whose Mana Armor slammed into place. Before the bolt could strike, though, Geltheriel dove between them, lifting her shield and deflecting the Spell.

  “I know you, betrayer!” she shrieked, her sword held aloft. “I know who you are!”

  “Ah, yes, it is good to be remembered,” the elf smirked as his features suddenly flowed and shifted into and unfamiliar form. His hair was now black and shorter, falling to his shoulders, and his features became coarser, as if he had some human ancestry in him. “Although this is how you remember me, right? If you had just agreed to be my concubine, all this could have been avoided, and your precious elder wouldn’t have to die.”