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| Author | The Chronicles of skunder |
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Skyn’Da fell like a stone. Bridges spanning the large cavern whisked pass him, the shouts of elves and Dark Elves alike calling out to him as he soared downward. Then a strange light encircled him. He was pulled off to the side, no longer falling but gliding towards the walls.
Cyrallin held Skyn’Da aloft with her magic, just as she had crushed the Dark Elves with the boulders moments before. This time though she carefully brought him to her, setting him down amidst them without blemish or the slightest bruise.
Guilm pulled him close hugging the startled youth in a strong embrace, cheered on by the other elves. Then the severity of the situation returned to them all. The shouts of the enemy forces rose, surrounding them from the battlement as well as the stone bridges.
Guilm’s voice rose up above the cacophony of voices, echoed by those elves surrounding him and continuing down the pathway, “Flee! Make haste for the Blooming Glade!” The elves responded at once.
Those who could, turn and fled, exiting through the large passageway blasted by Cyrallin moments before. Others fought off the lizard cavalry to allow their kinsmen to escape, dying despite their valiant effort. Guilm commanded the elves from the rear now, caught in the back of the long procession.
Gilric appeared at his side with Cyrallin close at hand. He turned to the elf, “Guilm your people will not escape this, the enemy is picking them off too quickly and soon those reptiles will breech the main pathway. We will be cut off.”
Guilm could only agree, albeit silently, but he saw no other way around the facts. Cyrallin however hadn’t given up, “Then we will need to prevent them from attacking our flanks. Let me deal with them.”
The two fighters stepped back, giving her room to begin casting. Her eyes seemed to pinpoint targets on the bridge nearest her, then her hands lashed out towards it. A powerful stream of icy water shot out from her palms, covering the bridge where the lizard cavalry had begun to make their way across and through the elven defenses. The stone quickly became slick, freezing on the narrow bridge. The forerunning cavalry hesitated, their legs unable to find grip on the icy surface, then they slipped, falling to their deaths many hundreds of feet below.
Another group of minotaur were crossing at a lower bridge, the wizardess called upon her arcane magic once more, taking control of a pile of debris and sending it at the unprepared beasts. The boulders crashed into the minotaur and bridge alike, causing it to crumble from the powerful strike. Beast and stone tumbled into the darkness.
The escape of the elves seemed evident, though at the cost of many hundreds of their lives. Then the Lorekeeper grabbed hold of Guilm, bidding him to focus on him while they were tossed within the mass of elven refugees. A great noise of shuffling feet and commands sounded around them. Determinedly he made Guilm hear him, “We can not leave yet. There is something to be done.” Gilric and Cyrallin closed around them as well, straining to hear the Lorekeeper’s news. | The elven commander seemed dumbstruck, “We came to rescue our people Skyn’Da, and we are doing just that. We don’t have time for anything else.”
Skyn’Da’s face grew stern and troubled, his gaze stronger than an elven youth ought to have been able to produce. “This is important Guilm; not just that, but necessary.”
Guilm studied him before speaking, “You are not the same youth that was taken from us those long weeks ago Skyn’Da. Something has changed within you.”
He answered, “Yes. The Dark Elves have been trying to get me to remember things of the Lorekeepers’ past, things to use against our people and the other kingdoms of the surface. Their constant questions have allowed me to learn how to delve into those memories on my own time.” His face grew most severe. “I have learned much Guilm. I have remembered the history of the Dark Elves, and how they gained control of the demon armies. It is for this reason that we can not leave yet.”
Guilm interrupted, “The Dark Elves are controlling the demons? Are you sure, Skyn’Da? Cyrallin believes it is the other way around entirely.”
Skyn’Da considered it only a moment, “No, it is as I say. The Dark Elves were once our own kin, a tribe within our land – the Alzhoul. When our people learned of the magic used by the people of Thurlmolan this tribe delved into it seeking to use it alongside the nature magic our people possess. The result was corruption and they stumbled upon the portals and magic of the demons. Through this their very souls grew dark and sought greater power. Their ambitions were to subdue the humans of Larklan and Thurlmolan. They tried to get the other tribes to agree, but they refused. So the Alzhoul sent the demons as a plague upon them and the human wizards. When the Lore Keepers learned that the tribe was behind it all, and controlling the demons, they joined with the wizards to defeat the common enemy. In the end the demons were repelled and the Dark Elves fled their homes to plot their next attack. It has been some time in coming.”
Cyrallin finally entered the conversation, “This makes sense with what I had read. The Chazr Daemonium and the historical account of the Dark Elves agree to this. But Skyn’Da, how were the Dark Elves controlling the demons?”
He looked from her and back to Guilm, “There is a tablet here in El’atrazhoul. On it are written the very names of the members of the Infernal Circle – the leaders of the demonic hordes.”
Gilric sounded aloud, “Their names? What good is that?”
Skyn’Da continued, “A name in the demonic and magic realm is the being’s very power – much like their soul. By inscribing the demon’s power to the magical tablet they have managed to take control of the demons themselves. They can not hope to disobey while this tablet rests within the hands of the Dark Elves.”
“Well where is this tablet Skyn’Da?” Cyrallin nearly shouted at him.
The youth turned his head to the side, looking down into the vast pit of the great city of El’atrazhoul. The pit far below seemed to go on forever. He pointed to the darkness, “There. They keep it protected there, where elf and demon are prohibited to go.”
Gilric asked, “If you’ve never been there, then how can you be sure”
Skyn’Da looked to the knight, “There are elves that sought escape, thinking that there must be an exit down there. They thought that was why they were prohibited from the pit. Most were slain by the creature that lives there, but some returned, speaking of a tablet of copper which glows like a fire within scorched coals. This tablet is equally burned into my memories.” His gaze drifted back to Guilm, pleadingly, “We must get this from them. Then we can turn this war around.” | Guilm shook his head, “You are too important Skyn’Da. You are leaving with the others. Cyrallin, Gilric, and I will return this tablet.”
Cyrallin cut in, “You are the light of your people Guilm. You can not risk yourself any further. Take Skyn’Da and your people. Return to your lands and reclaim what you can. We will get the tablet and meet you with it.”
The elven armies had nearly all slipped away from El’atrazhoul, a large force was now protecting the blasted doorway repelling lizard cavalry and minotaur alike. Skyn’Da and the others stood there now, still a few hundred feet above where they thought the dark pit became solid ground. Guilm began to protest this, followed by Skyn’Da. All the while the forces of the underground were pressing forward, cutting down the elven defenders.
Cyrallin looked to the others, Guilm and Skyn’Da were debating loudly while Gilric stood defensively around them, fending off any lone beast that happened their way. The wizardess acted while she could. She grabbed hold of Gilric, pulling him as she ran towards the edge of the cliff. Gilric ran alongside her before he realized what she intended. He dug his feet in hard, stopping her and bringing the attention of Guilm and Skyn’Da. Her eyes pleaded with him, even as the enemy armies barreled down on them. She mouthed the words, “Trust me,” then held on to him tightly. Fighting every instinct in his body, he held on to her, then kicked off of the ground soaring into the darkness.
Guilm and Skyn’Da stood shocked seeing the two jump over the edge. Then the enemy swarms threatened to overtake their defenders. Guilm grabbed Skyn’Da, “It seems we have been given no choice Skyn’Da. Let’s go!” Dashing through the fire blasted door they continued to run.
Cyrallin and Gilric were dropping faster into oblivion, plummeting to a certain death. Then the words of magic came to Cyrallin, they seemed to form around the two, casting light and warmth over them. She flared her power, creating her shield, stronger than she had even done before. The blue glow of the magic allowed them to see, and rising swiftly the earth stared back at them.
Impact came seconds later.
The magical shield crashed to the ground with its two inhabitants inside. It cracked the hard earth, sending stone debris and shards flying to all directions of the dark pit. Then the magic ended. Cyrallin seemed to slump to the ground, exhausted from the terrible effort of magic. Concerned, Gilric held her, seeing that she was still alive, though greatly fatigued.
His eyes tried penetrating the darkness, searching the dark pit. The glow of the cave vein above didn’t reach this far, though a slight illumination began to draw the knight’s eyes. It grew as he stared at it, or maybe he thought that everything else seemed diminished next to its light. Through it he saw a network of tunnels, weaving in and out of the central chamber. The glow, looking much like burning embers, seemingly floating in midair some distance down one of the long passages.
Gilric laid Cyrallin down softly, then rose facing the glowing tablet. He pulled his sword and shield, as if their presence would bring security in this dark place. High above, he could still hear the screaming of the underground races. As he stepped forward he could see those who had fallen, elf and Dark Elf, minotaur and lizard alike. He stepped over their broken bodies, keeping the tablet always within sight.
He entered the tunnel, his range of vision closing in immediately. Above, the sounds of battle and screaming died out, leaving him in a heavy, stifling silence. He became suddenly aware of how loud he was in the dark hole. His steel boots seemed to echo as they moved across the gravely floor, his armor clanked with each movement, his breathing beneath his helm’s visor appeared like rasping screams. | The goal lay before him.
The tunnel opened up slightly, with a ceiling twice the size of a man. Two other tunnels emptied out into this chamber, dark and impenetrable. So close to the tablet he raced forward. Floating before him was a single block of copper, as long as his sword and as thick as his hand. Along the face of the tablet the names of the demons were written, covering the entire surface. It was from these names that the strong glow emanated, shedding the unearthly light on the nearby stone walls.
The knight reached forward for the tablet as it slowly spun sideways in mid air. Only a hands breadth from the tablet he felt more than saw something moving off to his right down one of the side tunnels. He halted his reach, taking a stronger grip on his sword instead, expecting the minotaur or cavalry to soon surge forward.
Gilric turned towards the tunnel, yelling out, “Show yourselves! Face me!”
His words echoed off of the cold walls, reverberating as they traveled throughout the maze of tunnels and passages. Then a shrieking roar sounded back at him, startling even the brave knight. He barely had time to collect himself before the beast attacked. A reptilian head lunged forward from the darkness, as large as the man himself. From the back of its green-scaled head down along its thickly scaled neck grew rows of deadly spikes. Then a second monster, with a head equally as large, shot forward. The first snapped its awful jaws at the knight. His quick reflexes saved him as he thrust his shield at the beast’s snout. The force of the beast sent the knight sailing across the stone floor, spinning and rolling back. In that split second the second head had closed its terrible jaws where the knight had been only moments before. A third had appeared from the darkness unseen by the knight, it reached out for him just out of range.
Heaving, Gilric rose, moving back against the far wall. “Three of them,” he huffed. The three serpentine necks stretched out, but could not reach him. Then from the opposite side of the chamber he saw the body of a massive beast clawing itself through the tiny passageway. Despite its effort, the creature couldn’t push itself through the cramped space.
Gilric could see now that the three heads emerged from the single body. “By the Great Gods,” he spat, “a hydra!”
Their jaws gnashed closer to him as the body pushed itself further into the chamber. Its front claws digging through the stone floor and walls to get at its prey. There was no way to reach the tablet, and worse, he was trapped. The hydra’s heads crunched their teeth whenever he moved to either side, making sure he could not flee down one of the tunnels.
Doubt clouded his mind. Courage begged him to rush forward thrashing the beast with his sword, but wisdom told him to reconsider, to seek prudence.
A fiery blast burst from the tunnel he had entered through before. It enwrapped the serpentine heads, singeing the green scales to a smoky black. It screeched, backing up from the small chamber and pulling its long snake-like heads back into the darkness.
“Cyrallin!” Gilric called, “Stay back!” He could see her now, weakened and holding herself up with the wall. Still she had managed a powerful spell, but each time she did so it sapped her strength further. Whether due to her powerlessness or Gilric’s command, she stayed slumped up against the wall now.
He looked back to the tablet, only halfway across the room but he knew the hydra was waiting in the darkness beyond.
“Linn, you have any ideas on how to get out of this place?” he called out. | Her breaths were heavy, and she panted as she spoke, “I can get us out. But we will need to be back in the central chamber.”
He studied her, to see exactly how weakened she appeared. He cringed to think of what might happen if the hydra got a hold of her. He also knew doing nothing would get them both killed in time.
Gilric pushed off of the wall, moving quickly to the tablet. As he did, he called out, “Linn. Go! Head for the chamber!” Slowly she turned, dragging herself across the wall.
Gilric managed only a few steps before the hydra’s serpentine heads came thrashing out of the darkness once more. The first appeared from the front, though this time Gilric was prepared for it. He struck the beast hard with a backhand strike from his shield. The head was dazed, and slunk back slightly. A second head came from the right, but Gilric managed to slash a long gash across the creature’s neck. It shrieked out, raising itself high to the cave’s ceiling and out of harm. The third head struck at the same time from the left, seizing the knight’s shield with its teeth. It wriggled it free of the knight’s grasp, tossing him back and then spitting the broken piece of metal from its mouth.
Gilric slammed to the ground hard and bounded back up just as the heads righted themselves once more. The three began darting forward, striking with the speed of snakes and the coordination of pack wolves. Gilric fended off one with his sword, leaving a wound under the beast’s eye. The other two heads however found their mark. The first snaked forward, latching its jaws around his left leg and squeezing tightly. The knight howled in pain as the second clamped his left arm, tearing flesh despite the strong armor protecting him.
The heads recoiled, only preparing for another round of attacks to finish off the bleeding and stumbling knight. Gilric knew he had failed. The mission was for naught, he would die, and the elves would most certainly be forever plagued by the demons in their lands. He waited for death with his sword in hand, ready to deliver at least one more strike before he himself was brought low.
The world blurred, his vision crossing and distorting for one split second, bringing a feeling not of pain but of great discomfort. Then it was gone. Above him the hydra heads still lingered, their snake-like tongues stabbing the air as if detecting something strange. Looking to the side, Gilric nearly jumped backwards at last understanding the hydra’s confusion. Around him stood a dozen exact images of himself – copies which duplicated his appearance, his armor, his movements, and even his wounds.
His head shot to the right where he could see Cyrallin, his savior once more. She was turning back to the central opening now, but had evidently cast one of her spells upon him – and it seemed to be very effective. The hydra heads continued to hang in the air, not understanding the appearance of the extra dozen men. Not wanting the hydra to react first, Gilric leapt to action. He, and the other twelve copies of him, began running and limping towards the tablet.
Seeing the movement of the men, the hydras moved into action as well. They began striking the nearest men to them. The first head swooped down on one, its mouth opened wide and coming from above. Its mouth closed over the form and clamped tight, but like a cloud of smoke the knight-image dissipated within his teeth. The two remaining heads closed in on another, one attacking from the front the other from behind. They struck simultaneously, and again the knight-image turned to smoke and disappeared. The hydra heads however collided, bashing their snouts together with incredible force. | The true Gilric reached out, grabbing the tablet, plucking it out of midair and tucking it close under his injured arm. The copper was warm to the touch, filling him with a sense of heat and dread all the same. He turned to see the ten other images do the same, as if each were now holding the tablet and seeking safety down the tunnel. He ran, surrounded by his duplicates.
The hydra heads hissed their anger and hatred, then began lashing out at the men fleeing from them. Each head sprung out grabbing up one of the knights, and came back with a mouthful of smoke. Then Gilric and his imposters ran out of range down the long tunnel. Already Cyrallin had managed to reach the ending of the passage and began stumbling towards the center. Gilric and his seven were halfway down the pass when he heard the monstrous footsteps. The creature was following them along a parallel tunnel, each step causing the ground to quake and shiver. He could hear the steps catching up to him, pounding the earth as they trudged along. Cyrallin was beginning to cast her spell, looking high into the central chamber of El’atrazhoul. Wounded as he was he could go no faster, but he continued determinedly.
Long seconds later, Gilric and his seven imposters exited the side tunnel heading straight for Cyrallin. As they did the hydra’s heads shot out, grabbing up another three of the duplicates. Even as they turned to smoke, the hydra targeted its next three victims.
With the hydra only steps behind him, Gilric leapt towards Cyrallin, grabbing her and the tablet with all his might. She released her magic and the two shot straight into the air, the four duplicates trailing after them. The hydra charged, still in range of the retreating forms. Its giant maws closed over the closest forms, dragging down three of the imposters in a burst of billowy smoke.
Cyrallin and Gilric, along with the last knight-image, rose higher and out of the murky darkness of the pit. Though they moved away from the dangerous jaws of the hydra and blackness soon covered over the creature, its screeching could be heard rising up after them.
Using Cyrallin’s last drops of power, they sailed through the air above the many levels and bridges of the cavern city. She attached her will and magic to one of the bridges nearest the blasted doorway and they made their way there using a reverse power as she had when she had pulled Skyn’Da from his prison. Just before making impact against the bottom of the stone bridge, she pulled on the broken doorframe and released the bridge. This sent the two Gilrics and herself flying towards the open passage at great speed.
They landed with a thud, causing the imposter to explode in a puff of black smoke. Gilric rose slowly, surrounded by piles of the dead. Cyrallin had fallen unconscious from the strain of her magic and still lay in the fouled earth. Armies of the under ground as well as elves of the surface were stacked high around the doorway, laying where they had died. The cavern seemed to be abandoned, at least at this level. High above Gilric could hear the armies moving about somewhere behind the gates of the stone barricade. | He grabbed Cyrallin up within his arms and slowly walked, limping from the under ground tunnel. He came out through the waterfall much later, the cool water splashing around him and even bringing Cyrallin back to semi-consciousness. A large number of armed elves stood there, protecting the retreat of their people in case the under ground armies marched against them.
The elves took them in, healing their wounds and asking about what they saw and the strange tablet. As this continued, Ahrnald came dashing through the crowds of elves, kneeling down beside Gilric. “Sir Gilric, you’re alive!”
The battered knight looked at him with pride, “Of course I am fool boy. Nothing that could come out of that hole could hope to contend with my sword.”
Ahrnald simply smiled back, and looked over Cyrallin. She now held the tablet and wrapped it in a torn cloak so that its appearance didn’t cause too many questions or fears.
Gilric reached out for Ahrnald, bringing his attention back to him, “Ahrnald my boy, where is Guilm? Where is the elf child named Skyn’Da?”
The messenger stood frozen, his mouth hanging open. At last he formed the words, “Guilm and the young elf have set out for the Blooming Glade, Sir.” He seemed about to say more, but quickly closed his mouth.
Gilric caught the pause and demanded, “Well, there’s more. What is it then?”
Ahrnald answered, “Well Sir, they gave their army instructions to head towards Larklan, and they themselves have taken off on one of the griffins. They are heading to the Blooming Glade alone.”
* * * * * | High above the silent hills of the north, Guilm and Skyn’Da flew on the back of one of the majestic griffins. A thousand thoughts raced through Guilm’s mind now, though he figured even his racing mind seemed a small burden compared with the young Lorekeeper. As they flew, Guilm kept recalling the conversation he had had with Skyn’Da just before mounting the griffin once more.
They had exited the city of El’atrazhoul with the rest of their kin, rushing out of the dark spaces of the earth to feel the warmth and light of the surface wash over them. Guilm had found some of the elders still alive and spoke with them about the events of the surface world. He warned them the Blooming Glade would need to be conquered once more. That’s when Skyn’Da had interrupted him.
The Lorekeeper instructed, “No, Guilm. The demons are not our enemy here. Once we have the tablet they will no longer be a threat to us. The true danger is the army of the Dark Elves which is heading for the human kingdoms as we speak.”
Guilm responded, “But Skyn’Da, these people are not ready for a battle like that, in open fields and without weapons.”
The youth looked up, his mind seeing events from thousands of years past, “Guilm, you and I must ride alone to Blooming Glade. Our kin should leave this foul place, and go join with the refugees who fled the demon invasion. Our people have suffered enough Guilm, let them rest.”
Guilm was about to argue further, but saw something in the young Lorekeeper’s manner that stopped him.
Skyn’Da continued, “I told you before, that I have remembered much of the past. I have also learned the secret Guilm; the secret why the Lore Keepers were killed first in this war. The Dark Elves knew the power of the Lore Keepers. It is for this reason I must return to the Glade. I must awaken the sleeping army - the armies of the Blooming Glade.” | P2: E8: (Discussion: https://www.lordswm.com/forum_messages.php?tid=1847965)
In the center of the Field of Larklan, a single large tent was pitched. From its middle a white flag violently flapped in the wind. Two warriors stood at the tent’s entrance, clad in the green and wood browns of the elven people. Inside Enithian, Pryvius, and his daughter Quetlisse stood, to dismiss the messenger of Larklan.
The human exited, mounting his horse and returned across the lonely plain to his king and kingdom. At last he stood before him along with the king’s generals. The king was waiting for the report, which the messenger quickly relayed. “Thurlmolan was not in attendance, though they sent three elves to speak in their stead as mediators Your Majesty. They say that the wizards are not guilty of the blood of our late king but wish to speak about those who possibly caused his death. They wish peace King Avrian, and to speak to you under the terms of the white flag.”
King Avrian cut him off, speaking to his generals. “You see this? Our scouts say that the elves are living as refugees on the wizards’ land. They have been purchased as mercenaries. It’s no doubt that these same elves are the ones who snuck into the castle and killed our former king!” He seemed to stare at the messenger, though his voice rose for all nearby to hear. “No! I will not meet with these elf-murderers! They seek to lure me to their tent and take my life like they did my brother, and leave Larklan without a king!” He paused. “No! There will be no truce, there will be no peace! Thurlmolan and its abominations must be crushed. And those who join ranks with these murderers shall fall under the same sentence. To arms! Kill them all!”
From across the Field of Larklan the war horns and pounding drums could be heard. Their attempt at peace was ignored. War would come to the kingdom of Thurlmolan.
* * * * * | The hills of the north passed away, giving way to plains and then the thick trees of the Blooming Glade. High above, Skyn’Da and Guilm rode atop the griffin watching as the landscapes changed below them, marking the beauty as they traveled.
They headed deep into the Glade, far south of where the elves claimed their home, where no elf traveled had regularly or recently been. Here the trees gathered tightly, the marshland being soaked up by the thick roots of the massive trees. Still from above there was little to see of the land below, covered by the thick canopy.
At last they landed, finding a large enough clearing to place the griffin down safely. Guilm dismounted then reached up to help Skyn’Da down as well. The Lorekeeper brushed the neck of the griffin, giving thanks for its help, as Guilm stared into the surrounding forest with a slight fear and unease. Rumors spoke of this region of the Glade, a dangerous and mystical place. The Lorekeepers had long warned their tribes to stay away from this area. And now, the last of the Lorekeepers had brought him directly to its heart.
Guilm turned around, seeing Skyn’Da make his way into the surrounding tree line. He called out to the youth, “Skyn’Da, I think it’s time to speak about this. What are these elven armies, and how are you going to awaken them?”
He turned, his eyes seeing, but far away. “There is little time for words Guilm, but we may speak about it as we travel.” Reluctantly, Guilm started forward, obeying the much younger elf.
Shortly after, as they walked the soft trails, following Skyn’Da’s lead, the Lorekeeper began, “When the elves and wizards fought against the demons summoned by those now known as the Dark Elves, they were not alone. The Lorekeepers had known of the deeper magic within the Glade; magic which turned the world, which spawned life, which held the mysteries of the earth, and which kept balance between the elements. This same power is what allows the elves to be so close to nature, to sense when trees are hurting, to know when nature is imbalanced. The few and greatest of elves have learned to use the power to control the natural world to their whims, these being the Druids.” | Guilm interrupted, “Alright, I understand there is a power which drives the earth. This is common knowledge to any young elf. But what about the armies, Skyn’Da? What knowledge have the Lorekeepers been keeping until now?”
“We do not simply train armies as the knights do, neither do we construct them as the wizards. The Dark Elves gather their minions from the depths of the world, and the demons summon their forces from the burning hells.”
Skyn’Da approached the bottom of a round hill encircled by a grove of the tallest trees in the region. The area lay shadowed by the canopy of trees, with a slight opening just over the center of the hill where the tree branches could not reach.
He continued, “As I was saying, the elven people are not alone, we are not without hope. We have an army, but it is unlike the armies of the other kingdoms. We call upon the magic of the world Guilm, and we seek its partnership. We call upon nature to hear our plea and respond. We speak to the world, to look after its children. We ask, and we await the response. We petition, and we see what hope will bring us.”
With that the young Lorekeeper began walking upward, his hand signaling that Guilm should come no closer. Moments later he stood at the top of the hill, surrounded by shadows but bathed in light from the hole in the canopy. His voice rose out through the dense woods, ancient words escaping the Lorekeeper’s mouth. They were elven, but in a dialect long removed from common speech.
Guilm tried to understand them, recognizing common sounds of the archaic tongue to the modern elvish. For long hours he sat at the hillside, piecing together the few words he could, looking up to see Skyn’Da playing the part of someone far older, far more mature, far more knowledgeable than his few years would suggest. His tone changed as the words spilled forth, sometimes sounding sorrowful and pleading insistently, but always as if to a friend.
With silent awe, Guilm realized Skyn’Da was praying…to the very spirit of Nature.
* * * * * | Gilric and Cyrallin flew far above the elven refugees, watching as they wound their way through the crooked pathways of the Silent Hills. The elves seemed to be moving so slowly, but they knew the elves were leaving the Dark Elf home as fast as possible. Still, Gilric was forced to keep the griffin in a wide spanning glide just to allow the elves to keep up with them on the ground.
Cyrallin called out, but her words were swept away with the strong wind. Seeing no reaction from Gilric she repeated louder, and closer, “Whe…shul…lon!” Gilric looked back at her, his face a puzzle.
With a huff, she pulled closer to him screaming into his ear as she pointed to a nearby hilltop. “We should land!” Gilric understood and nodded, directing the griffin to the place Cyrallin had chosen.
As they descended, Cyrallin returned to her thoughts. She had wondered why Guilm would ask the elves to march against Larklan being mostly unarmed and in such a weakened state. She still could not figure out what Guilm and Skyn’Da had meant when they left to awaken the elven army – or was it the Blooming Glade army. How could they awaken the army when they had left them behind in Silent Hill? Were there more elves in the Blooming Glade she was unaware of? Were they going to incite the refugees in Thurlmolan?
They landed with little grace atop a high hill with little tree cover. It offered them a good view of the elven army as it passed in the valley down below, as well as granting them fair scouting in nearly all directions. They dismounted and stretched their aching limbs. Gilric sat at the edge of the hill, dangling his still sore leg over the side. Cyrallin however found herself walking in circles atop the green covered landscape, her mind racing over her recent thoughts.
And then suddenly it hit her as with as much force as their harsh landing. Skyn’Da and Guilm had left alone, leaving their people to move south against Larklan. They might have thought Gilric and herself would be killed by the hydra. Which case they would try something else but then again, Ahrnald had told them Skyn’Da had left a brief message for them, if they survived. “Consult the Tablet. Make them yours!” She hadn’t even thought of the tablet since they had nearly lost their lives for it. The fearful, peering, elven eyes had forced her to hide it, and then they had been placed on aerial duty to guide the elves through the hills. How cold she have let such an important thing escape her? The pain, the draining feeling of overusing her magic, the excitement of the fleeing elves…it was unimportant now.
She returned to the griffin, taking her bag down and quickly opening it. Inside, the tablet was wrapped in a thick cloak. She held it in her arms, unfolding the cloak slowly. The glow fell upon her immediately, bathing her skin in the warmth of the powerful artifact. She could see the markings, like etched runes, over the surface of the tablet, fiery and filled with arcane power. The language was not difficult, the writing common to any wizard experienced in the ancient texts. For one as learned as Cyrallin, it was like speaking the common tongue. She ran her finger over one, feeling the smooth copper sides, the inner burning of the writing there, the magic stored deep within.
Rubbing her finger over it, she absently read the word aloud, and vanished.
* * * * * | “How long are you looking to rest?” Gilric asked, still sitting over the cliff’s edge. There was no reply so he asked again, this time rolling over to his side.
His eyes grew fearful, his mouth slackened. “Lynn? Lynn!”
Sword in hand, he rose, walking the perimeter of the small hill they landed on. He searched the sides, to make sure she hadn’t fallen, or simply found a way to get down. Nothing. She was no where.
Then he came to the spot where she had lain. Her bag had been carelessly tossed to the side, and a burn-marked cloak lay in a pile close by. He recognized the cloak, knowing it had been used to wrap the strange tablet. The ground there was scorched, the grass burned away and the stone slightly charred in a near perfect circle. He placed his hand to the ground there, reflexively pulling back from the intense heat.
He stared at the area, anger and fear swelling to the point he nearly screamed. Placing his hands to his head he fought off the thoughts of what might have happened to her. Had she incinerated herself or been carried off as Skyn’Da had been in the land of Thurlmolan? Stinging tears fell from his eyes.
His thoughts continued to race, thinking of how powerless he felt, and how angry he was of her. He couldn’t get passed the thought that her curiosity with those foul magical artifacts had been her undoing. At last he fell to his knees, sobbing and accusing, “Damned girl! Damned girl.” He repeated over and over, until tears had streaked his face.
His hands, raw and bloody from tearing at grass and stone, flew into the air and he screamed out a cry filled with pain, horror, and impotence. The retched sound echoed off of nearby hills and spread down into the valley.
Thoughts of the valley slowly registered to the knight. The elves were still down there, and he was supposed to be leading them out of the hills. Duty took over emotion. The elves needed him. Larklan needed him. More so, he knew that he had to move, that if he stayed here, his grief would overtake him.
Mounting the griffin, he gave a final glance to the stone charred area, then commanded the beast once more into the skies.
* * * * * | Guilm had fallen asleep waiting so long for the Lorekeeper. At first he stood enraptured by the intensity by which Skyn’Da spoke and moved about. It seemed a choreographed prayer, but with such intense emotion that he knew it was more than just simple movement and gestures.
Later though he found that he could hardly stand and sat himself at the base of a great tree facing the steep hill. Hours passed and night fell upon them, by then though the elven warrior had been fast asleep.
He woke due to the stillness.
Skyn’Da’s voice had stopped, and the woods seemed silent. Even with his enhanced vision he could barely see the Lorekeeper atop the hill. From what he could tell, the boy sat as if in meditation, cross legged and staring into the space through the canopy.
Rising, Guilm shrugged off the last claims to sleep and took a few slow steps towards the hill. “Skyn’Da?” No response. He asked again, once more receiving no reply.
“SKyn’Da, I -” Guilm stopped, slowly and silently removing his twin blades. The sounds of movement filled his ears, setting off his vigilant sensory skills. From far away he could hear the wind moving through the trees, blowing the branches and stirring the leaves upon the ground. It seemed eerie to hear the wind within the trees, especially in woods this dense. The sound was rushing towards him now.
Palms sweaty and constantly clenching over the hilts of the swords, he looked to each direction hearing the same ominous noise approaching. He wanted to scream to Skyn’Da, to warn him, or tell him to get up and get ready to move. His lips didn’t move, couldn’t find the means to squeezing words out even to save the young Lorekeeper. | Then it rushed over him. A cool but strong gust of wind setting him nearly off balance, which managed to stay constant despite the massive tree trunks and brush of the woods. It fell upon him like a wave from the sea, giving both the rush of life from the cold and chilling touch, as well as the fear that if you lost your footing you’d be overcome.
Then the wind died, bringing the silence that had permeated the woods before.
He looked up to Skyn’Da. The boy had risen, was standing with arms on his hips, looking out into the distance of the woods, as if seeing something that Guilm himself could not.
“Skyn’Da! What was that?” Guilm yelled out, getting the Lorekeeper’s attention.
Skyn’Da looked down to him at the base of the hill, his mysterious knowledge apparent on his face. He answered, “As I said Guilm, we elves call upon Nature. We seek its service and its aide.” The boy looked out through the tree-line once more, his voice rising as it contended with a new sound growing somewhere in the woods. “That wind was its answer.”
Guilm stared up at him, wondering if Skyn’Da would elaborate, but nothing more came. Then the warrior elf’s attention was torn from the boy, as the noise of the nearby woods was too much to ignore.
The noise approached as the wind did, encircling the small hilltop completely. It seemed to fan out from some great distance also, and moved forward as one solid form. This noise was not the wind though. Guilm couldn’t place exactly what he heard rising up from the dark woods.
He began to see. At the fringes of his vision figures began to take form - great white steeds galloped forward, a single majestic horn protruding from the center of their heads; swarms of winged miniature beings came in from the skies, their feminine forms dancing and dodging through the limbs of trees and through bushes like a great swarm of giant insects; then droves of humanoids came forward, their outlandish appearance evident that even elves lived amongst the elements of nature – most likely the Druids Skyn’Da had spoken of. Finally, Guilm looked on with wild disbelief, recalling ancient stories which he had considered only faerie tales. As the armies of nature walked forward, the trees themselves seemed to uproot themselves, pulling their trunks up from the earth with a spray of dirt and groaning of wood scraping against wood. The tree forms stretched up and outward, shaking off many millennia of hibernation. And now their gigantic forms marched along the other ranks of nature’s army.
Guilm stood amongst the awakening woods as a child in a room where dreams were reality, and any wish need only be asked to come true. The army of the Blooming Glade was awakened. The wind had served as the call of drums or horns issuing the soldiers to war.
* * * * * | Dawn came spreading its warmth and light upon the Fields of Larklan. The battlefield had been drawn, the armies gathering to each of its north and southern sides. To the south, thousands of machinations and constructions with their wizard rulers waited atop the High Ridge of Thurlmolan. The Ridge rose up four spans of a man’s height above the fields of Larklan. The Golem Guardian Statue was at their middle, like a massive warrior waiting for the word to strike. King Archaelum stood nearby, overlooking the armies of Larklan to the north with his advisors and greatest war-wizards of the kingdom at his side.
Far to the north the army of Larklan was in formation, their cavalry armored with lances at ease, their swordsmen standing upright showing their disciplined nature. The green fields had been cleared of tents, food wagons, and posts for their many horses. Now a blanket of torn earth showed, kicked up by the thousands who had marched there for the last day.
The wizards knew the knights had intended on fighting. Thurlmolan however held the high ground, and getting the foot soldiers and cavalry up that mighty cliffside would cost Larklan many of its soldiers. The wizards held their ground confident in their victory.
As the morning sun rose, King Archaelum looked out over the green field to his enemy. The knights were lined in their routine formations, in tight phalanxes that he wished were only half the distance away. He dreamed of sending magical bolts of fire and lightning to decimate his foes and bring an end to this conflict. He knew however that they were too far, and thus his dilemma. But that also meant that Larklan’s archers would be useless until they moved up as well. He figured that was the extent of the knight army, merely men and their horses at best. The toll of his ignorance would be high.
The high pitched whistling descended upon the armies of wizards like doom from above. Before King Archaelum knew what was happening, massive boulders, some aflame, and others just clumps of jagged shale rock assailed his unprepared army. The screams of dying wizards called out. His machinations, the golems and gargoyles, simply stood there, losing their life source like a punctured wine flask.
King Archaelum looked to the skies seeing the death-from-above, and followed their line to where they began. From the back of the Larklan army he could see the constructions, hidden under the large tents that had at one time been pitched there. “Siege engines!” King Archaelum spat. It was no wonder they had stalled their attack, they needed to position their catapults during the night.
He called out to his generals and wizards dispersed throughout the army, “Raise your shields! Protect yourselves!” The call was echoed down the line even as some of the catapult debris struck within the ranks. A field of blue appeared above the wizard army, like a massive transparent bubble. Boulders and flaming debris struck the shield, sending ripples of power throughout the protection. Most of the enemy strikes were deflected and knocked away. Some however still found their mark. A wagon sized chunk of stone came down on the blue sphere held by a lesser wizard. The magic faltered and popped. The wizard and those nearest him were flattened even as the boulder rolled onward and through an entire line of unsuspecting golems. Another large stone landed short but effectively. It crashed into the cliff wall, sending tremors throughout the wizards’ ranks there. Then the cliff edge gave way, dropping the broken bodies of wizards and machinations into the Fields of Larklan. | The onslaught continued for hours. Machines of war continued flinging rocks of various sizes towards the wizards who protected themselves from beneath their shield spells. As the day wore on the catapults became less effective, finding fewer weak spots in the Thurlmolan army, but the attacks were weakening their wizards, causing their spells to falter. Wizards took turns protecting various areas to ensure their survival.
King Archaelum’s generals stood around him beneath a half dozen wizards’ shields. They argued amongst themselves of the next course of action and at last King Archaelum decided what must be done. “Their attacks are not slowing. The damned Fields of Larklan are covered with stones; it seems an unending supply for their catapults. They want to fill the sky with stones. Well we can do the same. Release the gargoyles, and destroy those siege engines at all cost!”
Even as rocks continued to fall upon the wizards’ blue shield, the stone gargoyles rose up from beneath it. The magic which animated them gave them flight, and they soared quickly into the sky, packing together until they seemed a swarm of giant insects darkening the sky and screeching their fury upon the knights across the field.
Rocks continued to fly, some smashing into the gargoyles and sending them falling to the earth. Still the enraged gargoyles continued forward. Clearing half the distance the knights readied for the attack. They rolled forth their closer range siege engines; ballistas, oxybeles, and onagers, each filled with large deadly arrows larger than a man. Volleys of the giant missiles filled the air, crashing into the hard stone and sending their targets careening downward. The gargoyles pressed on. At closer range the oxybeles was fired, loosing multi spear sized missiles each attached by chains to great weights. As the projectiles connected into gut, wing, and appendage, the knights down below pulled on the great chains, causing the gargoyles to lose control. Many collided with the gargoyles next to them, sending both to their doom.
As the remnant gargoyle force neared, bringing their wings back for full speed, the knights prepared their last defense. Tree-sized pole-arms, sharpened at their point, were brought out to greet the gargoyles’ attack. The stone emanations connected with the front line of the knights, skewering themselves on the pole-arms. With the momentum of the dive however, even the destroyed gargoyles did damage. Knight and horse and archer alike became targets for the rock hard claws and sharpened fangs of the gargoyles. As they flew by they struck out, many simply flying over the army, others landing on a knight and punishing him with ferocious nail and tooth attacks. Still the knights fought, managing to slay those gargoyles foolish enough to land.
Those gargoyles still intact glided upward, building speed for another strike. As they came on, the giant missiles weakened and brought down many, littering the field with even more fire power for the catapults. But the gargoyles weren’t planning on allowing the knights to use them. They dive bombed the knights once more, flying over their forces, ignoring their swordsmen and cavalry. They targeted the catapults and trebuchets, their ballistas and oxybeles. Again some landed on them, making quick work of the wood structures with their slashing claws and menacing teeth. Others simply crashed into the machines, using the force and their weight to obliterate the siege engines in a single strike. Those which did never walked away, but the wizards would say that they had served their purpose.
What was left of the gargoyle swarm returned to the wizard army, triumphant but greatly depleted in number. They landed on their side, seeing the pleased smiles of the wizards. As night fell on the first day of battle, both armies knew what tomorrow would bring – a day without siege engines, a day when one would have to take the field.
* * * * * | | The steady stomping of something moving in the darkness sounded like distant thunder, or some metal drum being beat in constant and unshakeable rhythm. Alarms rose throughout the Larklan camp, horns announcing the coming danger. The knights prepared as best they could for whatever might come, not knowing what abominations hid in the black field by night.
King Avrian rode up to the edge of the field, to where his soldiers waited. Swordsmen and cavalry were gathered in phalanxes, archers lining their back rows. The archers stood huddled around large metal fires, supplying light to the knight army. The king gave a command and one of his aides yelled out, “Archers! Arrows ablaze,” and the archers each dipped an arrow into a black tar near the bonfires. The king’s second order was given, “Archers. Loose.” The sky lit up as the arrows rose high then streaked across the black plains, lighting the area as they sped towards the unknown sounds in the darkness.
The arrows struck, giving off the ‘clank’ and ‘tink’ sounds of metal striking metal. Others struck the earth, or merely fell there after striking the metal objects. A light glow shown from the field now, as the ground lay littered with the fiery arrows. In more than one area a fire had erupted, as large wooden wagons began to burn in the aftermath of the fallen arrows. The metal sounds were golems. The entire golem force was making its way to the knights. Large droves of them pulled the wagons along, though they abandoned those which had caught fire. From those few fiery wagons dozens of gremlins began to emerge, screaming and yelling in their high pitched voices. Some fell to the ground, fire engulfing them. Others simply took up their places behind the larger golems, hoping the metal beings would block any other volleys which would come. In the center ranks of the golems was the Guardian Golem Statue, its massive bulk shifting from metal leg to metal leg as it led the mechanical army to war.
For long moments, King Avrian stood slack-jawed like his many soldiers, but at last he regained his senses. The aides to his side began barking out his orders, “Archers. Arrows ablaze,” and then, “Archers. Loose!” From another, “Cavalry, withdraw. Charging left flank formation!” The king’s own voice bellowed back, “Ready those ballista, men!”
The cavalry slipped through the ranks, filling the sides of the army. Swordsmen began to fill the empty pockets while the archers continued to fire into the ranks of golems, felling a few of the mechanical monstrosities, but more so lighting the field and picking off dozens of gremlins as their wagons became blazing infernos.
The golems suddenly released the wagons they were pushing, and the gremlins burst free, carrying large metal shields. Those on the ground lined themselves across the barren field, as those from the wagons placed their shields in front to protect them. in short time they began firing their projectile weapons, sending small stones into the ranks of swordsmen and archers. Larklan’s archers fired back, their arrows mostly bouncing off of the wall of shields. Some however found an unfortunate gremlin and claimed its meager life.
Then the lines clashed. | King Avrian yelled out, and the swordsmen rushed forward, running down into the field against the golem force. Metal clanged heavily against metal, and the screams of dying men rose up. The swordsmen moved quickly through the ranks of slow moving golems, though their swords did little to them. Hacking and slashing at the brutes left only dents or the occasional punctured hole. Eventually a golem would grab ahold of one of the swordsmen, ripping them apart with their powerful arms, or throwing them to the ground and crushing them underfoot. Despite the best efforts of the swordsmen, the golem force continued marching.
As the swordsmen fought the golems, archers and gremlins continued exchanging shots in the air. Eventually though, it became obvious the gremlins were taking less losses due to their shields. King Avrian ordered the cavalry forward and the horsemen galloped onto the field passing the golems with ease. They ran towards the gremlins and their wall of shields, using the light of the still blazing arrows. Lances aimed low, shields held high as gremlin stones began to fall amongst them. The cavalry came upon the gremlins like a raging river, crashing through their feeble defenses and piercing or trampling the little creatures into the earth. Those they didn’t slay in the first attack fled back to their army.
The cavalry didn’t stop yet however. They turned their horses back to the battle, and to the exposed backs of the golems. Lances struck the hard metal frames with such force, tossing more than one horseman backwards off its mount. Still the cavalry bore deep into their ranks, cutting through them and sheering off their flanks. The swordsmen on the opposite side began to get some relief, as the golems turned to face their new foe.
The first rays of the day peaked over the horizon, bathing both armies in its glorious light and heat. Hours passed as the knights fended off the golem attack. Their greatest weapon was the cavalry, and with each charge of their horsemen a larger hole was made in the golem line. The swordsmen however by this time had discovered how to take the machinations down. Half a dozen men would leap atop a single golem, binding its arms and legs, then using their swords to tear away at the joints of the creatures. Piece by piece, foe by foe, the knights began to work their enemy down, though at such a terrible cost. |
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