A thin, waif-like woman knelt in
front of the church of Gaia in the city of Whitewood, praying under her
breath. Her deep brown traveling cloak
hid her grass-green dress and its embroidered designs of flowers, as well as
her long brown hair and emerald eyes.
Her Elven skin was fine, almost porcelain, and her necklace pendant hung
just below her lowered chin, dark in contrast to her pale flesh. She sought strength from mother Gaia,
strength for her body, soul, and Gaiamancy.
She would need them in the days ahead.
She
had been to the city's seer earlier that day, for her dreams had confused her
the night before. In them, she saw a
great and fearsome creature, wearing a set of blue full plate armor, wielding a
blazing sword through scores of faceless creatures. Strange magics flowed at its command, and all
around it bodies fell. There were others
fighting alongside the creature, but she could not see them clearly. Before she woke from her dream, the creature
turned, almost as if to face her. She
was staring into the eye sockets of a skull, with red blaring lights burning
brightly at her. A snarl escaped the
creature's throat, along with a cloud of dust, and it lurched towards her. She awoke screaming in her bed that morning,
and knew she had to speak with the seer concerning what she had seen.
Through
the busy and crowded streets of the Elven capital she had walked, taking in the
smells of spices sold in the marketplace, the sounds of Elven children singing
songs and speaking with the animals around them. From a very young age most Elves were able to
commune with certain animals, and each Elf was different. Some spoke to only a few animals, but did so
very well. Others were able to
communicate very basically with almost all animals. It varied from person to person, and Ellen
Daires herself enjoyed listening to the banter of animals she herself couldn't
understand. She only spoke with canines
herself, dogs, wolves and coyotes.
Coyotes were her favorite animal, for their care-free spirit and
wandering nature. She exchanged a few
words with a pack of stray dogs as she passed, wishing them a good day and
hoping they would find homes soon.
These
things did much to lighten her mood as she walked to the seer's home. But the closer she got to her destination,
the greater her sense of dread became, going above the level she had
experienced the night before. Ellen
stopped dead in her tracks; did she really want to know the meaning of her
dream? Did she dare expect it could mean
anything good? But there was only one
way to know for certain, and it lay only ten or twenty feet away, on the other
side of the seer's front door. She
approached slowly, smoothing out her dress and tucking her hair behind her
pointed ears. She rapped twice on the
door, and it swung slowly open, creaking as it did so. Surely not a good omen, she thought. But she screwed up her nerves, and walked
inside.
The
entry chamber of the seer's home was warm and inviting, with lavish landscape
paintings on the walls. Two oak benches
sat opposite each other, their dark wood almost seeming to call to her to sit
and rest. But she did not. Instead, she looked straight ahead at the
beads that hung in the doorway to the next room, out of which furled smoke
clouds and the sound of someone humming low in their throat. "Come in, my child," said a
withered voice. The seer. The room beyond the bead curtain contained a
single, low level table covered with a multicolored cloth. Tapestries and paintings depicting different
stages of life and death adorned the walls around the room itself, each
slightly more grotesque and disturbing than the one before it. A large crystalline orb sat in the middle of
the low table, and seated across from where Ellen stood was the seer herself.
The
seer was an Elven woman of venerable age, her hair long and tattered, wild and
unkempt about her face. Unlike others of
her Race, the seer showed physical signs of aging, from graying hair to
wrinkles on her face. The air around her
smelled terribly of old moth balls and musk, the different aroma oils burning
in the room only mixing with the odor of her instead of covering it up. The end result was sweetly scented moth
balls, which didn't take very well with Ellen Daires. The old woman was murmuring, possibly to
herself, but the ball on the table was fluctuating with light of some sort, so
it was possible that she communed with the spirits. After another moment of the murmuring, the
seer looked up at Ellen, a slight smile cracking her lips. "Please, sit young one. There is something you wish to ask of
me." Ellen nodded mutely, and took
a seat across from the seer.
"Yes,
there is wise one," Ellen said in a low whisper. "I have had a terrible dream this night
past, and need to know its significance."
Ellen related the events of her dream, right down to the last moment,
when the terrible creature approached her.
The seer snickered low in her throat, and waved her hands over the ball
in the center of the table. Her eyes
widened, and she stopped laughing to herself.
A look of fear or revelation passed over her face. Looking away from the ball, she locked her
eyes on Ellen's.
"Your
dream is related to the things I have seen in the crystal these past three
days, my child. A mighty devil, blind in
one eye, will descend upon our city in the days to come. He will be preceded by those who seek to stop
his devilry. One will frighten you
terribly, for who and what he seems to be, but you must trust in him and his
companions. Together, you can stop the
one-eyed devil for a time." The
seer arose from her seat, and slowly turned away, shuffling towards her
personal rooms in back of her shop.
Ellen stood as well, reaching out for the seer.
"Wait! There surely must be something
more!" The seer stopped in her
tracks, turning to look tiredly at Ellen.
"There
is nothing more that I can say on this.
Dreams are strange things. Some
deceive," she said, opening the door to her bedroom. "And some reveal the way you must
take. But do not mistake this, all
dreams are powerful." The seer had
gone into her bed chambers and closed the door, shutting herself off from the
panic stricken Daires.
Once
again Byron stood on a small hillock, overlooking the cemetery. All was the same as it had been in his
previous dream, except that there were more headstones. The black emptiness just beyond the cemetery
fences seemed to mock him, jeer him for his inability to see beyond into the
void. Yet nothing else living appeared
in the rows and files of graves; he alone stood in the vast expanse of burial
plots. Byron could not remember having
fallen asleep, however, so his presence here puzzled him. Had he blacked out? What was going on in the waking world? He looked off to his right, and saw an open
pair of gates leading out of the cemetery, and into the void.
He
began to move toward the gates, and heard a loud, harsh grinding noise like
metal scraping metal. The gates before
him began to swing ever so slowly closed.
His heart hammering in his chest, Byron tried to sprint for the opening,
only to find that his own movements matched exactly the pace of the gates as
they swung shut. Enraged at his
inability to move any faster, he bellowed in frustration as he reached for the
left gate, only to watch it slam shut so suddenly that the cracking sound of it
knocked him from his feet. "All
right, what in the seven Hells is going on here!?" A sharp, shrill wind cut through the
cemetery, knocking several headstones over and pushing Byron back through the
dirt, his heels biting into the ground to hold him upright. "This routine again," he called
aloud, looking to the blackened sky.
"I am going to tire of these games very quickly!"
-Byron-,
called a soft voice on the dying wind.
-Do not be angry. Anger leads to
hate, and hate leads to poor judgement-.
Great thought Byron. Now I'm
getting advice from a bodiless voice.
"All
right, I'll play along," Byron said, reaching the height of
frustration. "I'm grateful for what
you did before, giving me back my empathy."
-And
another thing, which you have yet to use again-, the voice said. Another thing, Byron wondered. An ability, a spell perhaps? -Yes, it is a spell from your days as a
Paladin.- Hmm, Byron thought. Perhaps this isn't a waste of time.
"Perhaps
there is a reason you have been coming to me in dreams like this. Do you have a name? A form you can take to make this all a tad
bit easier to deal with when I wake up?"
A shimmering light flowed down from the blank sky, and before his eyes
suddenly stood himself, in his former Human countenance. "That isn't funny," Byron growled.
-It
isn't meant to be,- said the voice.
-This is the form I felt you might be most comfortable with. Am I wrong?-
"You're
goddamn straight you're wrong! Pick
something else!" The voice's body
shimmered, and took on the form of Edgar Cesar, his former Knight ally. "Edgar, you're-" he began, but
shook his head. "No, you aren't
Edgar, are you?"
-No,
I am not. But this form seems to have
calmed you somewhat. Byron, what do you
seek from this conflict? You know now
that Richard Vandross helped create you.
Do you remember what that means? - Truthfully, Byron could not. -When Tanarak was slain, you regained control
of your body. Your soul was freed.-
"Indeed,
it was," Byron said, crossing his arms across his chest. He didn't like the direction this
conversation was heading in.
-If
Richard Vandross is destroyed, your life force will be freed. You will die. - Byron stood stock still, unable to say or
do anything. If what the voice said was
true, he could never defeat Vandross.
His own defeat would come immediately after he delivered the final blow.
- Do not despair, Byron. It is what must
be done. Although, there are other
ways.-
"What
other way is there," Byron said, suddenly keen to find a different
solution to the problem of Vandross.
-You
can contain him, imprison him. It is one
solution. The Orbs of Eden’s Serpent
were once imprisoned.- Byron thought
back to his studies of the Orbs from his days planning the Final Push against
Tanarak of Sidius. It had been discussed
among him and his peers, but his superiors had demanded Tanarak be slain once
and for all.
"A
shame they didn't see what that would do," he muttered to himself.
-What?-
"Oh,
nothing," Byron said, waving a hand at the apparition. He searched through his mental library, until
he remembered what he had suggested to his higher officers. "The Cask of Darkness," he cried
out, his eyes lighting up and blazing white in his head. "An artifact long used to contain the
power of the Orbs of Eden’s Serpent! But
where is it?"
-Of
that, I am not certain. I know little
outside of your heart's domain.-
Byron kicked himself for even thinking that a subconscious manifestation
in his own head would know something so vitally important. Of course it knew about the Cask; it knew what
he knew. Its memories were his
memories. -The time is coming soon for
you to awaken. Take this gift with you,
- the voice said as it reached its hands toward Byron. -It is another power you must reawaken, but
you cannot until you awaken the first power I returned to you. -
"How
will I awaken these powers if I don't know what they are," Byron growled
in frustration.
-The
moment will be right. Trust in me on
these matters. - Byron sighed heavily, and left himself exposed to the
eerie light that flowed from the voice's hands into his chest. Power thrummed through his body, and the
terrible gusts of wind blew at him once again. - We will meet again,
-called the voice as Byron began to black out.
The light danced about his head, striking him about the face, left and
right, left and right. He began to
awaken.
"Wake
up good Byron," Shoryu was saying as he slapped Byron and splashed liberal
amounts of water over his face. Byron
sat bolt-upright, flames blazing about his skull from under his breast plate. The heat quickly dried his skull, leaving a
slight scent of ash wafting about his head.
He shook himself, placing one hand against his forehead and shaking his
head slowly. "We have rested
through the night, Byron," Shoryu said as he offered a hand to help Byron
up. Pulling himself to his feet with the
young Cuyotai's help, Byron looked around the woods they currently camped out
in. "James Hayes says that a group
of Elven Hunters came through late last night, wanting to know what we were up
to." Byron looked at Hayes, who was
busy preparing a light breakfast.
"James? Want to tell me about it," Byron
asked. Hayes looked up and shrugged.
"Not
much to tell, really. I told them we
were headed to the capital, told them why, and made sure they didn't get too
good a look at you. Best thing for us,
mind you." Byron wrapped his cloaks
of shadow magic about his upper body, deciding that caution would be highly
advisable. "We're about half a
day's travel from the Suesance River, and after that, another full day's travel
from Bael's village. Alex scouted last
night to tell Shoryu and I where it was, and Shoryu has a Hunter's knowledge of
traversing the lands of Tamalaria, so I think he should lead."
"He
always does," said Byron with a grin no one could see. The group ate a small meal and packed up for
the day ahead. Byron thought back on the
dream once more before he followed Shoryu's lead through the woods. He had regained two of his Paladin spells,
but he hadn't yet used either one. What
were they, and how was he supposed to awaken them? He decided that he would know when the time
came. Lucky for him, that time would be
shortly.
Vandross
had finally arrived with his army at the base of Mount Toane. The extensive use of his teleportation magic
had thoroughly drained him beyond reason, and his vision began to cloud
over. He lead the way inside, his loyal
thousands of minions waiting patiently for him to enter their new home
first. He knew immediately as he entered
that he had chosen wisely; he knew the inside of these catacombs better than
most. He arrived in the throne room in
less than an hour's time. The blackened
bone and mortar throne still stood silently and threateningly in the center of
the chamber, but now the throne was his.
He dragged himself up to it, and flopped himself down into the chair. Vilec Roak bowed deeply before the
throne. "What is your will,
master?"
"I'm
going to rest for now, Roak. Get the
rest of the men inside and get everyone familiar with the place." Vilec Roak smiled mirthlessly, which set
Vandross ill at ease. "What's so
funny?"
"Nothing,
sire, it's just that, I'm already very familiar with Mount Toane. I served here under the great Tanarak of
Sidius when this was his seat of power.
Familiarizing everyone should be easy enough." Vilec Roak left the chamber and Vandross, who
sat alone, thinking about his current situation and his next move. But his thoughts became sluggish, and he fell
quickly into slumber. He wondered if the
creature Molis had awakened upon his re-entrance into the mountain.
On most nights since
his taking of the first Orb, he slept dreamlessly, seeing nothing but blackness
and void all around him. But already a
dream was taking shape around him, and he was fully aware of it.
Richard
Vandross stood semi-crouched in a huge stone hallway, stained glass windows
allowing squares of light into the expanse of the hall. Dust swirled around everything, and large red
tapestries depicting the many myriad tyrants of Tamalaria's history hung on the
walls. He walked slowly down the hall,
approaching a set of silver doors at the hall's opposite end. Onward he walked, amazed at the fine details
woven into the cloth hangings on the wall.
His metal boots rapped harshly on the stone floor, echoing through the
air like thunderclaps, and the scent of burning flesh permeated the
hallway. He breathed deeply of the odor,
basking in it. He remembered the scent
quite well; it was burning Cuyotai flesh.
At last he stood before the doors, but when last he had looked at them,
they were barren and silver. Now they
were black steel, and a gigantic suit of armor stood before them, peering down
at him.
Two
bloodshot, feline eyes blinked at him, each easily the size of his head. "Thou shan't pass," said the armor
slowly, methodically in a booming voice.
"Lest ye know why ye have been brought here." Vandross blinked rapidly. This was a dream, right? If it were, then why could he see things so
clearly, smell them, hear them, feel them?
The cold of the air around him had raised goose bumps on his flesh, and
the guard's presence suddenly sent a chill racing up his spine. A colossal axe hung loosely in the giant
suit's left hand, poised as if to swing with a turn of the wrist.
"The
Orbs. They wish to speak to me,
yes?" The suit grumbled, but
nodded.
"That
is not enough, but thou art correct.
What doth thou seek?"
Vandross smiled from ear to ear at this question.
"The
power of the glorious Mother of Destruction," he whispered up at the
suit. The giant nodded and stepped
aside, opening the path from Vandross to the doors.
"Do
not enter, thou mortal one, lest thou knowest what ye toy with." Vandross waved his hand in dismissal at the
giant, and grabbed the handle of one of the doors.
"I
think I can handle myself," Richard Vandross said with the utmost disdain
in his voice. With a heave, he threw
open the left hand door, and found himself looking into a great and vaulted
chamber. Just on the other side of the
doors was a dais of a sort, which connected to a slender, two or three hundred
yard stone walkway that suspended over a lake of lava. Shimmering purple sigils pulsed in the stone
floor and walkway, and out in the center of the lake of fire, hovering over it
like a holy ground, was an altar. At the
altar stood a figure, bent over it and hidden in a cloak with a hood over its
head. Vandross took a step into the
chamber, and as his foot touched the floor, the ground rumbled, and the lake
spat fire in an arc towards the unseen ceiling.
A
line of purple and red energy shot through the floor at his feet, racing up the
stone bridge like a bull, each second passing causing the ground to stir ever
more. Finally, at the altar, the energy
escaped into the air, taking the shape of an enormous, dual-headed spider. At first, Vandross cringed at the sight of
the creature; he had seen few things so hideous in appearance. Yet one of its eight legs crooked toward him,
motioning him to join it and the cloaked figure at the altar. Screwing up his courage, Richard Vandross
started out across the bridge toward the central circle. As he did, he watched as a serpent made of
the pit's flames slithered up onto the circle and took a place at the hooded
figure's side.
Finally,
after what seemed to be an eternity, Vandross stood ten paces away from the
trio of creatures. "All right, I'm
here. Now show yourself to me," he
demanded in a cool, collected tone. The
figure in the center pulled down its hood and opened its cloak to reveal a
woman who was the spitting image of his own mother. Vandross gasped, taking a defensive step
back. "Do you mock me!? What devilry is this creature," he
raged, bringing his magic to bear. The
woman passed a hand in front of Vandross, and his magic subsided, much against
his will.
"Be
still, Richard Vandross. You have many
questions, and we may have answers to some of these questions. Allow me to introduce us. This," she said, indicating the
spider-thing with a waving gesture.
"Is Vengeance. He is our
latest addition. You took him in with
the third Orb of Eden’s Serpent.
This," she said, using the same sweep towards the snake of
flames. "Is Spite. He was the second to occupy this space in
your soul."
"This
is my soul," asked Vandross incredulously.
"This is bad comedy!"
The woman simply smiled at him, her gray-blue eyes flashing darkly,
menacingly.
"This
is your soul, Richard Vandross. This
whole temple, from its corridors, to its guardians, to this very chamber. Only we three and the guardian of this
chamber are not manifestations of your own heart and mind." Vandross had to concede that point; he did
like the decor. But these creatures were
filling him with something he hadn't really and honestly felt in a long
time. Dread. "But make no mistake, we are not
intruders. You have brought us into your
being. I have introduced Vengeance and
Spite to you, and they are yours to command, summon, and learn from."
"And
who are you, woman," Vandross asked, raising his blind eyebrow. "What is your name?"
"My
name," the woman asked, putting her hand to her bosom in a very 'oh my'
fashion. "My name is Power. And you are the one who wields me." Vandross grinned despite himself. Perhaps this wouldn't be such a bad
arrangement after all. "Now, you
have questions, as I have said. You may
ask them of us, and we shall answer."
Vandross thought through his options, but decided to start small and
work his way up.
"You
came from the first Orb of Eden’s Serpent, correct?" The woman nodded. "Would it have mattered what order I
absorbed them in, or does that bear no consequence on the order in which you
appear?"
"It
bears no consequence," she said, sitting on the steps before the
altar. Vandross leaned to one side, and
saw a coffin of some sort behind the altar itself. What is in there, he wondered. Later.
Other questions to ask.
"You
have all three granted me new strength, wisdom, powers. What other purposes can I set you
to?" Vandross himself sat
cross-legged on the floor of the suspended circle.
"We
have, many purposes," answered Vengeance, whose voice was akin to someone
trying to speak while they were drowning.
"We can, be summoned, for a short, time, into physical,
existence. We would, retain, our forms
that, you see, before you here," it continued, venom dripping from its
fangs. "I, can poison people's,
souls. I can, taint them. Make them, petty, and weak."
"I
can drive people to new levels of hatred," hissed Spite, arms of fire
sprouting from his serpentine body of flame.
"I can pit them against one another, feed off of their natural
violence! I can open their minds to
untold horrors, that they may inflict them upon others!"
"And
what of you, Power," asked Vandross, pulling on his beard. "What do you bring to the table?"
"I
can create copies of you," she said, almost seductively. "They will have the same powers and
abilities as you did before you took us in.
They will have a short period of corporeal existence. But they can serve as good distractions. And they can be good shock troops, in a tight
pinch. I gave you the gift of
teleportation. And I can see and hear
over great distances, to serve as your eyes and ears where you cannot know what
goes on." Very good, he
thought. Very good. That almost covers all of my bases.
"All
right. Who are the other two? Their names, at least." Power looked at him with a confused
expression for a moment, before Vengeance spoke once more.
"The
two, that remain, are Deceit, and Despair.
The last, two Orbs, will bring them, to you." Power nodded, and regained her look of calm
and control.
"Good. Look," Vandross said, standing up. "I only have two more questions, and
then I have to wake up. Things to do,
you know." All three creatures,
Power, Spite and Vengeance, looked eager to hear his questions. "Who is that guardian at the door,"
he asked, pointing in the direction of the doors leading in.
"Ah,
that is Locke, a Keeper. One exists in
all creatures who have a soul."
"Are
they all that ominous? Or hideous,"
Vandross asked, a look of doubt crossing his face. "Or well armed," he added with a
hint of disapproval. "If this is my
soul, why did I have to get past a doorman?"
"It
is thus for all beings," said Power.
"The Keepers have their own agenda, and work directly for the Gods
and the rulers of the Hells. They are
neutral beings, and often simply do what they feel is best for the one they
inhabit. In Locke's case, things are
different."
"How?"
"We
now, inhabit, your soul," said Vengeance.
"Our, presence, has changed, him.
He has, not always, been, as he, is," the spider beast finished.
"Well,
all right. I think I know just about
enough about laughing boy," Vandross said with a smirk. "My second question. What's in that coffin behind the
altar?" All three creatures stood
up, and came together in a tight line before the altar. They all turned as one, and kneeled, bowing
to the altar and the coffin behind it.
"When
all five of us have been brought together, we can open it," said Power,
her voice wrapped in awe. "Within
there lies what you seek. Within,"
she said, turning to face Vandross. Her
eyes had become black, hollow sockets in her skull, and her mouth was filled
with daggers. "Is the Glorious
Mother of Destruction." Vandross
flinched as the coffin began to shake on the stone floor, rattling as if
something inside wanted desperately to be free, set loose upon the world. He suddenly felt he would scream, and did the
next best thing; he turned and ran for the door to the chamber. Rushing through, he stumbled, tripping over
one of Locke's huge iron boots. He
sprawled across the floor, knocking his head hard on the concrete floor of the
grand hallway. The door slammed shut
behind him, and a heavy sigh escaped the giant suit of armor.
Vandross
rolled over, propping himself up on the palms of his hands. He gazed up at the Keeper and took in its every
detail as best he could. Red, angular
full plate armor and shadows. That was
all there appeared to be to the monolithic creature, aside from its wide,
bloodshot, feline eyes, which now glared at him as though they were the eyes of
a priest seeing a heretic in his church.
A furl of red feathers jutted out of the top of its helmet, giving it
the appearance of a royal Knight of some sort.
"What the fuck are you staring at," Vandross screamed up at
Locke, who didn't even appear to acknowledge the fact that such a small,
squishy thing had spoken to him.
"I
am no longer sure," the booming voice said in a slow, methodical
manner. "I am certain the same can
be said for thou. For thou hast gazed
upon me once before, dark one," Locke boomed. Vandross tried to think of how that was
possible, but he didn't want to go through the possibilities. What was he even doing here? He had just knocked off for a quiet nap, that
was all. And now his vision was blurring
again. Wait a minute, he thought, but
his train of thought was interrupted by the snap of consciousness. He was totally alone when he came to and
looked around the throne room. He did
not see the feral feline eyes staring at him from the shadows.
Ellen
Daires finished her prayers and decided it was time to take a nice long walk in
the woods outside of the city. Perhaps
it will calm my nerves, she thought. The
woods had always had that effect on her, tuning her in completely with mother
Gaia, her chosen Goddess. She had a
hundred questions roiling through her mind, a mob of demanding inquiries that
would break down her defenses and come rushing out of her mouth if she did not
employ her self-control. The twittering
of the birds and the shuffling of dead leaves under foot made her own little
reality soften to her. The ground was
firm and slightly springy, adding bounce to her step. Her meditative state of mind beguiled her,
however, for after a while, she realized the sun hung directly overhead. Already noon had come.
Ellen
lowered herself daintily to the forest floor with her back resting against a
solid sycamore tree, pulling her small backpack in front of her. She took out some bread and a wedge of
cheese, and ate a slow, solitary meal.
The occasional woodland denizen approached her, clicking or cooing or
making whatever noise they made, all to Ellen's delight. The animals did not fear her; for one thing,
she was an Elf, and nature tended to be kind to her Race. For another, she possessed the magic power of
the Earth Mother herself, Gaiamancy. She
had trained for years, decades, and now stood as the head authority on
Gaiamancy in almost the whole of the kingdom.
Her peers admired her, her family was proud of her, and her few friends
adored her. She lived a good life.
Which,
she reflected somberly, had been exactly why her dream had disturbed her so
greatly. It had shown her things she
feared, abhorred, distrusted. How would
she deal with the seer's prophecy? And
what link, if any, did it have with the crimson-eyed creature she had seen in
her slumber? She looked at her hand,
watching as it trembled ever so slightly.
She had to get up and move, she thought.
Movement meant action of some sort, even if it were somewhat
aimless. Collecting her thoughts and
foodstuffs, Ellen brushed off her dress and moved off again. She knew she had wandered far from Whitewood,
a couple of hours at least. The Suesance
River flowed from west to east perhaps a mile north of her. Perhaps the clear, sparkling water of the
river would ease her worried mind some.
Ellen moved with the grace of an ethereal spirit through the great
forest, unaware of her proximity to Byron and his group.
She
nearly walked right into the furry chest of a Cuyotai man, and the sudden
presence of other humanoid life caused her to react defensively,
fearfully. The Cuyotai appeared
startled, as did the two Humans and the shrouded figure behind them. Ellen thrust her hands into the air, her
magic singing in harmony with the movements of the forest. Huge tree limbs bent and extended down in
front of her, forming a barrier of thick wood to protect her from these
potentially hostile people. She could
detect Pyromancy from the Human woman, a tall, regal woman with a blood red
dress, auburn hair and flaring, flame-filled eyes. A Gaiamancer's worst fear was the
earth-rending flames of a Pyromancer.
Fire blasted earth, scorched stone, and consumed wood, the elements a
Gaiamancer most loved. But the Cuyotai youth,
a warrior of some sort from the look of him, and the Paladin man, whose face
held a quality of innocence, made her think that perhaps these people were not
so foul.
"Who
are you people," Ellen Daires demanded, her voice frail and shaking. "What do you do here in the forest of
the Elven Kingdom?" The Cuyotai
looked back at the dark cloaked figure, who also used magic of some sort to
conceal himself. Something suddenly sank
in Ellen's stomach; these were the people she had seen in the haze of her
dream! "You there, strange
one! Reveal yourself! Cast off your disguise! I will know who comes to my
homeland!" The other three
individuals looked at the shadowy creature, who seemed to shrug his shoulders,
and she could hear him sigh.
"You
aren't going to like what you see, miss," rumbled the cloaked man. Ellen stood her ground, readying her defenses
and preparing to strike if need be. The
figure's arm waved in a semi-circle, and like a cloud of flies darting into the
darkness, his masking shadows dissipated.
Beneath them stood a large man in blue full plate armor, his black
travel cloak hanging loosely from his shoulders, atop which sat a skull. A skull with white lights in the eye sockets
instead of eyes.
"Aaaauuuggggh!" Ellen screamed and released her magic into
the forest around her. Byron drew his
weapon, but not in time. A huge oak tree
limb slammed into him, tossing him thirty feet into another tree, breaking it
in half and toppling to the ground with a thud and a groan. Selena Bradford began to weave her own magic,
but stopped short as she felt something slick and wet wrapping around her
body. She looked down to see a thick
stream of moss covering her body, gagging her and choking off her
incantations. At the same time, Hayes
and Shoryu were backing away from half a dozen wooden golems of some sort,
summoned from the trees themselves.
Shoryu launched his mystic arrows at the wooden warriors, but they had
no effect. How was it that the magic of
his bow didn't affect these guardians?
Ellen Daires watched from behind her barrier, terrified and yet
satisfied.
Until
a set of burning red lights appeared just on the other side of her barrier,
inches away from her face. They were set
in the eyeless sockets of the creature she had seen in her dreams. Byron shouted at her from behind the
interwoven branches. "Stop this at
once, woman! We don't want to harm you,
but if we must in order to preserve ourselves, rest assured we will!" Byron raised one metal gloved hand, extending
his fingers and lashing out with thunder magic at the branches. To his and Ellen's surprise, the wood
held. A shout of panic from Shoryu
distracted him, turned him away from Ellen.
Hayes had gone to help Bradford out of her moss imprisonment, and Shoryu
was being backed into a group of trees that had somehow shuffled together to
form a wall. Byron sprinted in front of
Shoryu, gripping the Cuyotai tightly and lowering him to the ground, leaving
his own back exposed to the wooden golems.
They rained heavy fists and clubs down on Byron's back, forcing groans
of pain from the Dread Knight.
"Byron,
let me go," cried Shoryu, trying his hardest to tear free of the undead
warrior's grip. But he could not. He could feel the hammering blows as they
vibrated through Byron's armor.
"Let me help you! James,
Selena," he shouted, reaching one hand out to the Humans. "Help him! They're going to kill him!" But both Humans struggled fiercely with the
moss. Ellen, however, stood stock still
in shock. The dark creature was risking
his own life for the Cuyotai's sake. She
had misjudged him.
"One
will frighten you, for who and what he seems to be," she whispered to
herself, repeating the seer's vision.
With a snap, she halted her magic and the guardian magics she had
employed vanished back into the ground and trees. Byron fell to the ground, his chest heaving
and coughing up smoke. Byron sat up, and
a small, white light glowed in his left hand.
In awe, he pressed the palm flat against his own chest, and felt an
exhilarating rush as healing magic flowed through his body. He flopped back onto his back a moment later,
a grin plastered on his skull. Both
powers he had regained had come alive!
The blows from the wooden warriors would surely have crushed Shoryu or
even him, despite his armor, but the Paladin spell known to the Order as Human
Shield had reduced the damage dealt to him, and he had used the Healing Hand
upon himself. Despite the severity of
the situation, he felt great as he lay on his back, the crest of Sidius on his
breastplate rising and falling with his breathing.
"Well,
everything seems to be in order," he said, sitting up. Shoryu was visibly shaken by the ordeal, but
he was smiling nevertheless. James Hayes
and Selena Bradford stared hard back at Ellen Daires, who came gently over to
the group. Grouped together, Byron's
company numbered few, but Ellen's magic had been running low near the end. They would have been able to hang on, there
was no doubt of that in Ellen's mind; were they creatures of a darker
alignment, she'd surely be dead by now.
Thank the Gods for small favors.
"I
have made an error in judgement," the demure Elven Gaiamancer whispered to
the group as a whole. "I did not
mean to bring harm to good people."
"No
harm done, miss," said Byron with a dismissing wave of his hand. This was a bit of a lie, however. Despite the combination of his Paladin
spells, he still felt raw and bruised from the battering he’d taken at the
hands of the golems. Selena Bradford
held an aggressive, battle-ready stance, her arms out at her sides.
"If
I didn't need to invoke my magic through words, Elf, you would be little more
than a smoking wisp of bones," Bradford hissed. Byron shot her a look, as if to stop her
short, but Selena Bradford was a passionate woman, and apparently hadn't finished
having her say. "Your magic is
indeed impressive, Gaiamancer, but it will mean little when the man we combat
against sends his armies this way! I
hope that whatever little village you're from, you're all as talented as this,
and willing to die despite that fact!
The one-eyed devil will crush you all for certain, for he has none of
our mer-" Ellen interrupted her however, by dropping suddenly to the
ground. A haunted expression locked on
her face, and she began to rock herself back and forth. The seer's prophecy, again! These people sought to stop the devilry of a
one-eyed man, just as had been foretold by the old seer.
"What's
wrong," Shoryu asked, placing a hand on Ellen's shoulder. She came suddenly to, looking up into his
deep, dark Cuyotai eyes. Here was a
handsome specimen, she thought, immediately chastising herself for her
wandering thoughts.
"I
must take you all back to my city, now," she said, getting off of the
ground with a heave and moving silently and swiftly away towards the southeast,
toward Whitewood. "I come from the
capital, Whitewood. A wise seer from
there told me that you would come soon, that you would precede a wicked force
of which you know." Intrigued and
guided by instinct to follow her, Byron led the way behind her.
"Can
you describe this wicked force," Hayes asked out of curiosity.
"A
one-eyed devil moves on the capital as we speak. I know not how, or why, but he seeks to bring
us to ruin. And though we are mighty,
our city shall need the aid of someone who is experienced in dealing with
him. Will you help," she pleaded,
stopping in her tracks and facing Byron's company. He took a step toward her.
"We
were on our way to your city anyway. We
had planned on a short visit to a friend of ours, Bael, but that will have to
wait. We wish to deal with Vandross as
quickly and forcefully as possible. Lead
the way." And so Byron's company
grew in numbers by one more, but Byron had a feeling that one more person would
be necessary to really complete the package.
He would find that ally in Whitewood, though he did not yet know
who. At the moment, he didn't care; all
he wanted was another chance at the man-devil Richard Vandross.
