The Keystaff Chronicles - Chapter 13

Chapter 13

“I do not trust them,” Gubriel glared ferociously at the companions. “For hundreds of years, we’ve not seen any sign from the outside, and all of a sudden a so-called apprentice of an Archmage would come, bearing the honored crest of the Great Lady and tales of servants?”

“But the Wise One did send us because she sensed an evil presence,” the leader replied quietly.

“And we have found that evil presence!”

“We should not be so quick to judge,” the leader turned to Ofeera. “We have all seen with our own eyes the lady healer’s power, and it comes from the Ancient One.”

“He forsook us centuries ago,” Gubriel replied, though he sounded a little more subdued by his leader’s logic.

There was a pause, and then the leader turned to Luthien, “I am Hazuriel Wyndarun. You will come with us to see the seer as our guests, for now. If you do us no harm, then no harm shall befall you.”

The implied threat hung thickly in the air, and the companions exchanged looks amongst one another. Still, having guides in this wretched place was far better than blundering around without no clear idea of what dangers lurked around the corner, and Luthien quickly thanked Hazuriel for his kind offer. And so, it was with an uneasy peace that they set off with their new found ‘companions’.

* * * * *

In the blasted wasteland that was Aztur, time held no meaning. To Theredoniel, the brief moments they had spent walking towards the Everstar Spire felt like eternity. It was as though they had become like the damned ghouls that they would occasionally stumble across, wandering aimlessly across this vast, dead, wasteland.

And so, when he first laid his eyes upon the stand of tall trees, he thought that his eyes were playing tricks on him. As they drew closer, he waited for them evaporate into red-orange tinged air like a mirage. To him, it was unimaginable that there could be anything alive in this damned place. How could anything, even a tree, breathe in this poisoned air year after year and still live? Even now, as he stood in the shade of these towering, ancient sentinels whose thick boughs seemed like the arms of giants that held up the sky itself, he wondered if he wasn’t hallucinating.

“The Everstar Spire – the wonder of wonders of great Aztur. Magnificent, isn’t it!” Lucien, who had come up beside him, said.

Despite the sickly sunlight that filtered through the vile air, the Everstar Spire’s many crystal facets still glittered brightly as it stood tall and proud, its peak overlooking even the tallest of trees that stood as its eternally faithful guards. Theredoniel had seen paintings of this breathtaking structure, but no elf, not even Azariel Gwenevar, had laid eyes upon this awe inspiring form since his great grandfather, Gordaniel.

“Father Heaven be praised! How was this built?! How has it stood in this cursed place for so long!” exclaimed Dao, the leader of the mages that had been a gift from Prince Yue.

When Theredoniel didn’t answer, Lucien replied, “It is said that the greatest mages of House Gwenevar pulled this crystal out of the earth in one single piece and over the years, its subsequent masters of crafted it with their arcane gifts. The Everstar Spire stands as a tribute to their ‘Eternal Father’, and legend has it that so long as the sun shines upon Faearth, the spire will stand.”

Dao shook his head, “It is not surprising that Aztur once boasted that it was the cradle of the arcane arts. We must bring a piece of this place back for the glory of his highness.”

Theredoniel spun around and glared at the man, “You will do no such thing! I will not allow you to despoil my House for the curiosity of your vile prince!”

“You dare speak ill of his highness?! I…”

“Oh come now, let us not fuss like little boys,” Lucien admonished, shaking a finger at Theredoniel and Dao. “Dear Theredoniel, please don’t aggravate our new friend so. The Rising Sun Empire is very much about pride and all, and comments like ‘vile’ are not particularly conducive towards the strengthening of our friendship. And dear Dao, please do respect our elven friend’s sensibilities. Saying that you are going to take a piece of his pretty spire is like saying that you will take a piece of his mother’s burial treasure. Besides…well… I think a demonstration would explain things better. You there, good sir, would you so kindly as to come over?”

The young man that Lucien gestured towards took a step back and looked at him suspiciously, knowing quite well that the pale-haired prince had nothing good in mind.

At this, Lucien chuckled, “Now, don’t be shy my friend.”

The man that Lucien gestured at suddenly felt cold, dark power pouring into his body and realized that he was not quite in control of his body. His legs moved on their own, propelling him towards the trees. He braced himself for a hard impact with the tree trunk, but what he did not expect was the sudden hair-raising, fiery power that crashed over him.

It was a warning that he was not welcomed, and the young man tried to stop himself from moving further. But the cold power that controlled his legs moved them forward relentlessly. He let out a desperate, horrified yelp and threw every ounce of his will into making his feet stop to no avail. As the men watched, he ran into an invisible barrier, sending thin, spidery lines of power flowing outwards from the point of contact and into him. The unfortunate fellow collapsed to the ground in an undignified heap, smoke rising from his senseless body.

Dao opened his mouth and glared fiercely at Lucien, who merely laughed and replied with, “Do relax, dear Dao. He’s quite alright, I assure you, just taking a little nap. You and I would share the same fate as him if we tried to pass through this charming little grove. And I would highly recommend that you don’t try and dispel the shield. I am quite certain the shield would get a lot nastier if you tried because it would recognize the ‘taint’ in our power. This was, after all, created by the great archmage, Elucielle Gwenevar.”

“Then how do you propose we pass through here?” Dao demanded. “You must have some sort of a plan.”

Lucien smiled and glanced at Theredoniel from the corners of his eyes, “I am afraid my meager abilities is quite unequal to the task of bringing down a shield created by the Great Lady, but fortunately, it would not be a difficult thing for our Theredoniel. Now, if you would call the staff, hold it up to the forest and will this troublesome shield out of existence, it would come to be.”

Theredoniel looked at the human prince with furrowed brows, “I can no more bring down a shield created by Lady Elucielle than you can, nor would I be able to use the staff.”

“Oh, you are not using the staff. You are simply allowing the shield to recognize the fact that you are in possession of it, and wish to enter. You see, the Great Lady knew that when she was gone, it would be quite some time before another with her power could defend the people and the land she loved. So, she devised a method to allow those in possession of one of her heirlooms to work the arcane creations she left behind. Well, at least that is the gist of it. She did put other conditions, but for our purposes, we are fine.”

“Now, that might seem like quite a lax thing, but Elucielle made it so that only those of her bloodline or those who have been gifted by her bloodline can touch the items she left behind, believing of course that non of her bloodline would ever turn away from her beloved ‘Eternal Father’.” Lucien smiled sardonically, his lips curving upwards ever so slightly at the corners as he glanced at Theredoniel from beneath thick, silver lashes.

Theredoniel felt himself stiffening, knowing what it was that looked implied. How he wanted to destroy his wicked companion, to rid himself of this insidious darkness that led him further and further away from Abihayil. Lucien had come to him when he held his beloved Eowyna’s body, after the plague had rendered her almost unrecognizable, and offered him her life in exchange for his assistance. Really, he had traded away his soul; he had betrayed his friends, his House, and even Abihayil.

But Abihayil had betrayed him first! Abihayil had allowed his kind-hearted and beautiful wife to die, to fall prey to a terrible sickness that she, a healer, had gone to save others from!

Gritting his teeth, Theredoniel spoke a quiet word and summoned the staff to his hand. Its rune-inscribed shaft felt cold to his touch, and the crystal that topped the staff was a dull amber color. If he had not known what it was that he held in his hands, he would have thought of this item as nothing more than just a fancy, overly-long walking staff. He could feel no powers stirring within this artifact, but then again, the staff was purported to be something that only an archmage could wield. It would not come alive unless it was in the hands of one with the power and will to be an archmage.

With the staff held horizontally in front of him, he willed the shield to come down. Because he could not even sense its existence, he felt rather silly standing there and simply thinking at an invisible barrier. If Azarielle was here, she’d most certainly make some crass comment about him looking positively constipated and follow up with a suggestion some herbs that act as laxatives to help him find relief.

The small smile that formed on his face died quickly though.

If Azarielle was here, she’d give him a good hard knock on his head and drag him off to a healer to have his brain examined. And if he persisted, he was certain that his friend would fight him. The prospect of fighting an archmage’s apprentice was not a pleasant one. But even worse, the thought that he would be fighting one of his and Eowyna’s dearest friends, was one that filled him with dread and sorrow. He did not ever want such a battle to come to pass, but it was inevitable.

“Nothing happened,” Dao remarked, quite unimpressed.

“On the contrary,” Lucien smiled like a cat about to swallow a bird. He stepped past the fallen mage and walked, unhindered into the trees. Shocked and horrified by what he had wrought with his own hands, Theredoniel trailed the pale-haired prince mindlessly.

A few short moments in the densely populated forest and it was almost as if they were no longer on accursed Azturian soil. The air smelled fresh, and the sound of birds and other small creatures scurrying for cover was all about them. Here was a miraculous oasis of life and hope that had somehow survived in this desolate wasteland.

“This is most unexpected,” Dao shook his head as he looked about. “We had no idea such a place still existed… People can actually live here.”

Lucien stopped in his tracks and cocked his head for a moment before smiling, “And they do.” He murmured a few words and then snapped his finger. There was an almost blinding flash of light, and all of sudden, they found themselves surrounded by a group of startled high elves, and all dressed in cloaks that changed colors like a kaleidoscope.

“What…” Theredoniel began, but he never had a chance to finish.

Dao said something unintelligible to his companions, and without a further word of warning, they all started to chant. They acted so quickly that Theredoniel barely had time to process the arcane words he was hearing before deadly bolts of life flew from the Rising Sun mages’ fingertips and struck the elves.

The strange elves, apparently disoriented from the blinding flash of light, had no defense against this swift attack. Those who were struck by the deadly bolts went down with pained and frightened screams. Only a few managed to aim their bows and fire back. But this counterattack was futile, because Lucien, smiling pleasantly, had already created a shield around them that incinerated upon contact.

“Stop it!” Theredoniel yelled at the Rising Sun mages, “What are you doing?” When Dao and his companions paid him no heed, the enraged young elf pointed his finger at them, intent on destroying these mages intent on killing his kinsmen. Power flowed through his veins, surging from the core of being and filling him with warmth. The air around him began smelling of ozone.

And then, suddenly and very abruptly, something icy and impenetrable stopped the flow of his power. He felt cold, vice-like grip on his writs and heard a low voice speak into his ears, “And what, pray tell, are you intending to do, dear Theredoniel? I assure you that these long lost kinsmen of yours will quite happily slaughter us the moment they learn of our intentions.”

Theredoniel tried to jerk his hand free of Lucien’s grasp, “There’s no need to kill them! We can simply incapacitate them!”

“I am afraid we can’t really take chances with such an important thing,” the human prince smiled. “You wouldn’t want to take chances on whether the lovely Eowyna successfully recovers from her current… state, would you?”

The young elf felt his entire body go cold and stiff at this implied threat. He turned to his wife, who stood still and unmoving, staring unseeingly at the massacre happening around her – a beautiful, lifeless doll.

Lucien watched the young elf with a slight smile, knowing that his silence was his tacit agreement. Dismissing Theredoniel from his attention, he turned to regard the surviving high elves who were now organized enough that they were seeking shelter behind the tall trees to hide from Dao and his companions’ attacks. Though his expression did not show, it was quite a strain to defend against the elves arrows. They were enchanted to break arcane weaves, very much like the weapons of a mage slayer, and he had to expand quite a great deal of power to protect himself, the rather useless Theredoniel, and the Rising Sun mages. If it weren’t for the fact that Yue’s ‘gifts’ would become useful later, Lucien would have happily let them become pin cushions.

Sighing at this unfortunately circumstance, Lucien lifted his wrist and drew a thin line of blood with a black-stained nail. Blood flowed from the wound and he let it drip on the ground. Then, he spoke words in the Arcane tongue, and the sounds that crawled out of his throat was a terrible, inhuman sound that coiled around those around him, making them shiver.

The power he wrought was even more unspeakable. When his blood drops touched the earth, the bodies of the slain elves instantly began to spasm violently. Like marionettes, they climbed to their feet, the movements of the limbs still retaining the fluidity that they had in life. As one, they began to charge their living brethren.

* * * * *

The Azturian high elves set a quick pace, loping through the dead forest with the swiftness and silence of a jungle cat. They had vanished again, fading into the surroundings with a swirl of shimmering colors immediately after the group set off. Only Hazuriel remained visible, jogging just ahead of Luthien as he led the companions toward Everstar Spire.

“Impressive,” Azarielle remarked as she kept pace with Luthien. “The arcane weaving in these cloaks basically bends and reflects light in such a way as to make the cloak blend into the background so as to render the wearer invisible. It’s basically the same principles applied to invisibility cast upon an individual person or object, but whoever made these cloaks just did it with far greater skill than anybody I’ve ever met. I wonder if we could barter for some of them? Actually, a more important question is this – if you have someone powerful enough to create cloaks like this for you, why haven’t the lot of you left this cursed place yet?”

Hazuriel glanced at the young woman from out of the corner of his eyes, “Not many could survive such a trip, mage. It is a rarity for the Fog to lift from some of these areas, and then to have to travel such great distances upon a land cursed with monstrous beings and the walking dead.”

“Well, I was thinking you could fly…”

Whatever Azarielle might had intended to say, she did not bother to finish. The young woman stopped very suddenly in her tracks, her eyes staring into the distance. Both Luthien and Ofeera stopped as well, with the young knight’s face turning dark, and the young healer’s hand flying to her mouth to stifle a gasp.

“What is it?” Hazuriel inquired.

“Lucien,” Luthien squeezed his brother’s name out from between his teeth.

“The servant of the Abyssal Ones, and he is raising the dead,” Azarielle’s eyes flashed dangerously. “The newly dead.”