A Man Among Elves
Merrick and Ralowyn survived another night in Elderwood Forest without any monstrous encounters. Merrick had slowed significantly as they ran, his legs depleted and body aching from his previous days in the challenging forest.
Ralowyn appreciated the man’s determination. He would have run, even at his slow grinding pace, all the way to Loralith. The elf recognized Merrick’s exhaustion, though, and forced the stop for the night.
It hadn’t taken Merrick long to drift off. When he woke the next morning, he felt immensely better. He wondered if Ralowyn had used some sort of healing magic on him while he slept, but he did not ask. He was glad for whatever she might have done.
Onward they ran, until Ralowyn halted them again.
“What is it?” Merrick huffed.
“We are here.”
She stood straight, both hands poised on her staff, her eyes closed as if she were in a trance. Merrick looked around, peering through the trees and overgrowth in all directions. He saw nothing, save more forest. For the first time, he doubted the elf woman. She had been out in the forest a very long time, and he didn’t really know who she was.
He watched as her silvery hair blew in the light breeze. Her slender form was unmoving.
“I don’t see anything.”
Her smirk returned. “I should say ... they are here.”
Merrick retrieved his bow, nocked an arrow, and readied himself out of pure instinct. For what? He didn’t know, but the mere action seemed to trigger everything into motion.
Four elves silently appeared, slipping around trees from where they had been hidden so perfectly the huntsman had been unable to sense them. Ralowyn did not move. The elves circled the pair menacingly, and when they were all in position, a fifth elf revealed himself. He wore an ornate cloak of blues and greens, different entirely from the others. He carried a strangely carved stick in his hand that Merrick guessed to be some sort of magic wand.
“The Staff of Anvelorian,” the lanky elf acted impressed. “I know of only one who has been able to spark it to life since old Master Anvelorian himself.”
Merrick did not understand the elvish tongue. He watched the elf carefully move toward Ralowyn until he closed the distance between him and the slender she-elf. Merrick’s fingers twitched around the string and arrow nervously; the surrounding elves’ eyes were locked on him.
The cloaked elf circled Ralowyn, inspecting her as one would a priceless statue. She stood as stone, giving him nothing. He stopped in front of her once more. “You have grown quite fair, Ralowyn.”
Merrick’s features scrunched; he recognized Ralowyn’s name as the lanky elf spoke.
“You remain the same as my memory, Lanryn.”
“You wound me,” he mocked, placing a hand to his heart.
“And your jealousy is thinly veiled. As thinly veiled as this illusion.”
Ralowyn leaned the staff in front of her, pursed her lips, and blew through the pinnacle. The magic, made entirely of light, swirled like specks of dust. Purple embers floated and fell upon the cloaked elf, enveloping him and seemingly devouring his form. In an instant, he was gone.
A hearty laugh rolled from behind Merrick. He turned to see Lanryn, the real one, slip out from behind another tree. He called from there, not daring to come closer quite yet. “And why, pray tell, would Master Tenlien’s favorite pupil be jealous of the second?”
“I did not say I was jealous of you.”
Lanryn laughed again and edged closer to the statuesque Ralowyn, inspecting her with his own eyes. He twiddled the wand in his hand, flipping it in his fingers with well-practiced ease.
“My wand has served me quite well. It has vanquished many foes.” He held it close between his face and hers.
Merrick tensed. He didn’t need to understand the words to know the stance of the elf did not look friendly.
Lanryn stared at Ralowyn. She remained stoic with her eyes closed. Merrick noticed then she hadn’t even opened them to detect the initial illusion. After a long pause, Lanryn dropped his wand hand down to his side and smiled.
“How was your walk?”
As the group walked, Ralowyn promised the tired huntsman Loralith was nearby. After Ralowyn insisted on switching to the common tongue, as to not exclude Merrick, she and Lanryn spoke like old friends—though he spoke enough for the both of them.
Merrick learned they had known each other since childhood. Lanryn had been brought to the school of magic as a child a year or so after Ralowyn. Orphans that proved adept at arcane arts were usually identified earlier than those living with parents. The orphanage did not have the capacity to foster such elves, so they would send them to the school of magic as soon as possible.
Both elves had studied under Master Tenlien for years before Ralowyn left on her walk into Elderwood Forest.
Lanryn updated his friend on the subtle shifts in the hierarchy of the highborn families of Loralith. He described some of the promising young students studying under Master Tenlien at the wisdom tower.
He also explained why he, a mage of such quality, was on patrol with a small band of warriors.
“Seer Zelor has been speaking to the high council about a darkness edging across Tarrine. Something from a distant land that is unknown to us. The king has put all of Loralith on guard.”
“I believe we may know something of this shadow,” Ralowyn replied, lifting a hand toward Merrick.
For the first time, Lanryn regarded the human walking with them. He had been so wrapped up in speaking with his oldest friend, he’d completely forgotten about the huntsman’s presence.
“Indeed,” he said, shifting back to Ralowyn. “Did he disturb your walk?”
“No. I believe I found what I needed to find.”
The Staff of Anvelorian hummed each time it hit the ground as Ralowyn swung it forward like a walking stick. It sparked and glowed in purple spurts.
“I see you have more control over the staff.”
“Forty years of practice helps.”
“Ha! I suppose it does.”
Merrick watched and listened as they followed some unseen trail. Shortly, they rounded a small treed knoll, and the elven city of Loralith sprawled before them.
Towers and buildings cut upward, covered in vines blooming with a stunning array of flowers. Every building appeared to be growing, though it was an illusion. Small trees grew on top of some buildings. Others had tendrils of vines sprouting out and hanging from the roofs. Even the main castle keep was covered in flora, making it appear as one giant growth.
Merrick saw, to one side of the city, a road that cut through the forest. His experience in Elderwood Forest had been challenging, and he was one who willingly embraced the wilds of the land. He wondered how difficult the forest would be to traverse for merchants and traders hauling their wares.
As they passed the outer walls and pressed through toward the castle, Merrick looked down street paths between buildings, noticing elf children at play and adults going about their business. The city teemed with life.
They navigated the area with ease, though it was a maze to Merrick’s mind, and soon arrived at the main keep. Lanryn and Ralowyn spoke to the guard, who looked past them to inspect the human and, after a pause, nodded them through. The inside of the castle was the opposite of its exterior. The place was built with stone as smooth as pearls worked into ornate curves, uncluttered by flora. They stood in a great foyer with high ceilings. Two sets of stairs curved beautifully in front of them.
“A man has not set foot in this keep for many of your generations, man-kin,” a voice came from a landing where the stairs met before splitting again.
For the first time since they had rallied with Lanryn’s crew, an elf addressed Merrick directly. The voice belonged to an elf who wore a golden robe covered in green scribblings. Her eyes, though, were covered by a single cloth wrapped around and tied at the back of her head. The covering did not seem to be of any special design, simply an old cloth.
Merrick stepped forward between his two elven escorts. “I am Merrick, son of Grell, huntsman of Tamaria. I come with news for the lords of Loralith.”
“You involve other peoples in your own mess.”
He shook his head. “No. I bring news of warning for the safety of all our futures.”
“The wheels of death have already been set into motion. You are merely a messenger, a catalyst to spark the flame of war.”
“You talk about flame, but you don’t even know of the fires coming to this world!”
“I see far more than you know, man-kin!” She reared up, her voice becoming harsh. “I have seen a dark tide wash over the land, covering the world and drowning it all.”
“That’s bleak,” Lanryn murmured.
“Then you know that I must warn the lords of Loralith,” Merrick continued.
“You rain death upon us all,” she spat.
“Always the optimist, this one,” Lanryn mumbled to Merrick as he stepped past the huntsman again. “Seer, we must speak to the council—”
“You don’t know what you’ve wrought!” she cried.
Before anyone could speak another word, an elaborately crafted door at the top of the stairs to the right swung open with a sucking force. All the tension in the foyer dropped as the elves surrounding Merrick bowed gracefully. At the railing stood a beautiful elven woman. She was dressed in a decadent gown adorned with lace and ornamentation. Her hair was braided like an intricate net and strewn with flowers of different colors.
“Merrick, Son of Grell,” the sweetness of her voice lulled him. “You are most welcomed.”
“T-thank you, my lady,” he stammered.
A kind smile spread across her visage. “I am Queen Velari. The council will see you now.”
Sun flooded through open windows into the council chamber. The room smelled of sweet spices and incense. While the place was comfortable, the company was not.
Merrick stood before the table, where twelve elves were seated, listening stoically. The only one who showed any emotion was Queen Velari, smiling at him more out of compassion than at the content of his message. For his message was bleak, indeed.
He told them of all that had happened with Orin, Coal, Ezel, and his sister, Ellaria. He told them of Rora, though it pained him to do so. He spoke deliberately about the encounter with the orcs and the dragon, trying not to miss any details. He got a raised eyebrow from the elf sitting to the king’s right-hand side when he described the blazing magical axe one of the orcs wielded.
While he spoke, Merrick looked to Ralowyn for confirmation or help. She only nodded affirmation for him to continue his story. He described to them his days with Ralowyn. He told of her kindness and aid and didn’t leave out any details on their time together, not about the rinont encounter and his stupidity or even the bear that had worked with Ralowyn. That brought an approving nod from the elf to the right of the king.
When he finished recalling all he could, Merrick stood before them, waiting for any kind of reaction. He glanced to Ralowyn again, wondering what was happening, but she gave him no indication she knew any more than he did. He fidgeted, awkwardly adjusting his weight to the other leg in the tension of the silence. The queen’s kindness saved him again.
“Thank you, Merrick,” she said. “You have given us a thorough account of—”
“Thank you?” Seer Zelor spat. “He brings tidings of death, and you thank—”
“You will remember your place, Seer!” The king slammed a fist onto the table. “Interrupt my queen again, and you will be removed from this council session.”
The seer scowled but shut her mouth.
“Do you know what became of the dragon after your encounter?” The queen started again.
“I do not. As I said, I did everything I could to give my companions a chance. I do not even know if they were able to escape. Another orc chased them ...” Merrick trailed off.
He had thought much of his friends’ well-being while he ran through the forest with Ralowyn. He did not know if they had made it or not. If they hadn’t, the burden of delivering the message rested with him. “I must bring this news to Whitestone, as well. If my friends didn’t make it, then the Griffin Guard will be caught unaware.”
“I am sure we can aid you in that,” the queen offered.
“What?” Seer Zelor reacted with vitriol but quickly softened her tone at the glare of the king. “We cannot help him. It will only bring tragedy.”
“Then I will help him,” Ralowyn piped up, drawing offended looks from several around the table.
“And you should remember your place, young mage,” the elf to the right of the king corrected her as softly as correction can be dealt.
Ralowyn bowed her apology to the elf.
“If Drelek has somehow acquired a living dragon, it is imperative we act decisively,” he continued to the king.
“Do you intend to bring the wrath upon our own people, Tenlien?” Zelor griped with familiarity.
“As I see it, all of Tarrine would be in peril should Drelek have plans to attack with an army of dragons. Perhaps even all of Finlestia! Are we not citizens of this world?”
“Please, listen,” the seer pleaded. “This is only the beginning. This is—”
The king halted her words with a raised hand. “You only saw the one dragon?” he asked Merrick.
“Yes, my Lord.”
“Then we do not know how many they have.” He turned to Tenlien. “I thought them to be wiped out during the Second Great Black War.”
Tenlien shrugged. “As far as we were aware, that was the case. But if they have one, who is to say they don’t have more? Where did they come by a dragon? Certainly, one hasn’t been reported in Tarrine for generations. Large wyverns, but no dragons.”
“A dark shadow rises.” Seer Zelor stood upright, sending her chair skittering behind her. “A wave of destruction comes to thieve. Stealing life. Stealing joy. Stealing peac—”
“Enough!” The king slammed his fist on the table again, shocking the foreteller back to the present. “I have heard enough of your laments. What do we have if we have no hope? I will not sit idly by while a very present threat rises.
“If there is only one dragon, then praise the Maker for our fortune. If there are more, praise him even more that he might go before us and make a way for our victory!”
The seer began to shrink back and grab her seat.
“No!” the king continued. “You are dismissed, Seer.”
Her jaw trembled below the ragged cloth that covered her eyes. A tear rolled from behind it. She wiped the repulsive droplet from her chin and stormed out of the chamber. The room remained silent for a long time, her words of despair hanging heavily upon them all.
“Merrick will need to fly with haste,” Queen Velari finally broke the silence.
“Yes, my love ... Yes. You are quite right.” The king turned his gaze to Merrick, still standing at the end of the table. “If Tarrine is in danger of Drelek’s threat, Loralith will answer the call to arms. We will remember our oath with Koraal the Wise, King of Whitestone. We will stand in defense of all Tarrine.”
“By order of King Solorin, let it be decreed,” Master Tenlien offered.
“So it is,” the king proffered the customary response.
All the council members faced Merrick. Though he was flanked by both Ralowyn and Lanryn, he felt utterly alone under their full attention once more.
Master Tenlien spoke to him directly. “Master Merrick, come.” He motioned toward the empty seat next to himself. “We must draft the course of our future. Together.”
They spent several hours devising a strategy to meet the new threat. The council members offered plenty of advice from their long, experienced lives. Merrick felt out of place when they asked him of his opinions on different parts of the planning. Master Tenlien was kind, though, and reminded Merrick it was wise for them to hear the thoughts of a man. Many of the peoples of Tarrine they sought to protect were man-kin and saw life differently than the long-lived elves.
Master Tenlien also invited the thoughts of the younger mages in the room. Lanryn was more than happy to share his opinions on all the matters where he was given voice. Ralowyn was pensive and chose her words with methodical care.
They worked over the plans long into the evening. The royal staff brought platters of food and grails of drink into the chamber. The smell of the herb seasoned meat caused a renewed fervor from the weary huntsman. He dug into the platter set before him. Everything hit his tongue with vibrancy: the vegetables, the meat ... even the elvish bread. Etchlin was a sweet bread, made with honey, which added a tasty treat after the hearty meal.
When all was said and done, they had devised a plan that satisfied King Solorin. Several of the elven commanders would take their pegasi squadrons to strategic places around Tarrine and prepare those places for defense. They appointed Commander Fario to gather his squadron and lead Merrick onward to Whitestone.
Master Tenlien offered to act as the huntsman’s sentinel, ensuring his safety. However, the council thought it unwise for the master to leave his post in such dire circumstances and with so much uncertainty of the future. He offered Ralowyn as an alternative, should she accept the honor. She nodded her acceptance, and all agreed her to be a good fit. Though Merrick believed the master to be quite capable, he was relieved Ralowyn would accompany him. He trusted her and had been glad for her companionship.
When the meeting was over and all had departed for the evening, Master Tenlien led Merrick and Ralowyn out of the castle toward the stables. The city of Loralith glimmered in the night. Magical lights glinted with faery fire in a myriad of colors, mirroring the flowers of the daytime. It was a sight, Merrick thought, that could not be seen anywhere else in the world. He had certainly never seen the like.
They met Commander Fario at the stables. The elven commander’s stern face surprised Merrick, as most of the elves he’d met had much softer features. This elf was a warrior. Who could say whether it was birth or war that had hardened his countenance so?
Tenlien greeted the commander, and the two hurried into a conversation in elvish that Merrick did not understand. Ralowyn grabbed him by the arm and led him to an open corral.
A sleek light grey pegasus with dark grey spots neighed at the intruders. Ralowyn raised her hand and hushed the spirited creature. Its massive wings furrowed as it calmed. Merrick stood back and watched as Ralowyn drew near to the animal. They met easily, and she prompted Merrick to join them. He reached out to pet the great creature, stroking its beautifully spotted fur. He had never seen such a majestic beast.
“Have you ever ridden?” Ralowyn asked.
“A horse, yes. I’ve only seen pegasi in paintings.” He shook his head in disbelief.
“They are much faster than a horse.”
“I could guess.”
The pegasus nuzzled Merrick’s stubbly chin.
“I think he likes you.”
Merrick laughed and brushed his hand along the animal’s neck. “I like you, too,” he said. His hand followed the creature’s creased muscles until he paused before the wings. “May I?”
“Of course.”
He stroked the large wing, feeling the enormous feathers against his fingers.
What a magnificent creature, he thought.
He stopped suddenly as he remembered petting Rora’s feathers, which made him think of his sister. Ralowyn did not miss his shift into worry.
“You are worried for your sister?”
“I am.”
“She was with the guardian?”
“She was, but Orin was not at full strength. I know Coal would do everything in his power to protect her.”
“The dwarf ferryman?”
“Yes. And Ezel wields magic from his body. How that kind of power comes from such a small form, I do not know.” He shook his head at the thought. He was suddenly feeling better about their chances. They may yet have survived.
Ralowyn sensed his change and smiled at him.
“Commander Fario will have his troops prepared for tomorrow,” Master Tenlien called to them as he rounded a stable building. “We must get to the wisdom tower. I have something for you there.”
They walked through the city beneath the buildings’ dancing glow of vibrant colors. The old master spoke with the fervor of a younger elf, as he asked Ralowyn questions in elvish about her walk in the wood. He asked what she had learned about the Staff of Anvelorian and what abilities she’d found within herself. He told her how excited he was that she had come out the other side of the trial without losing her compassion.
Tenlien was like a proud father, doting on his prized daughter, though they shared no blood connection. Ralowyn, for her part, was amused by his excitement and gladly offered answers to every one of his questions.
When they arrived at the wisdom tower, Tenlien led them through the place, winding up the stairs to the highest level. There were two rooms on that level. One was a training room, long and wide enough to be used for some of the more dangerous spells that younger acolytes weren’t ready to learn. Tenlien led them to the other room, the master’s chamber.
Though outsiders were in his room, he did not hesitate to open a secret door on the side wall. He swirled his arms, twisted his fingers, and whispered an incantation. The wall shifted and settled into a heavy swing.
“Is this where you hid the staff before I was old enough?” Ralowyn asked, less than amused by the old master’s facetious smile.
“Perhaps,” he replied with a raised eyebrow. “One moment.”
He slipped into the hidden closet, and Merrick and Ralowyn heard him jostling items.
“Ah, there you are,” they heard him say. “Oh yes. Yes!” he said, seeming surprised he hadn’t thought of something before.
The old master shuffled out of the secret room, knocking something over along the way, and used his foot to slide some brass artifact back into the closet. He whispered a command to the door, which seamlessly closed back as part of the wall, and turned bashfully toward them. He held in one hand a magnificently crafted elven bow and in the other a small pouch.
“Here, here, here,” he shuffled over, handing Merrick the small pouch. “Open it. Open it.”
Merrick could feel some hard object within the velvet pouch. He could not determine its shape, so he untied it quickly, slipping the item from its concealment into his other hand. A crystalline-stone bird, made of some material he did not know, landed in his hand. The stone was of blue and orange tint and had ribbons of black pepper and white crystal throughout. Its smooth surface was cool to the touch.
The huntsman recognized it to be a falcon.
“Valurwind,” the old master whispered, his features full of glee.
“Valurw—”
“Shh. Shh! Not yet!” Tenlien stopped him. “I will teach you how to call upon the great falcon.”
“A calling crystal for an astral creature?” Ralowyn asked, leaning in to see it better.
“Yes. Very good!” he replied. “This one summons the great falcon to whomever calls upon its name.”
“Valurw—”
“Shh! Not yet!” the master scolded Merrick again.
Discouraged by the scolding, Merrick moved to the next item and asked, “What power does the bow hold?”
Master Tenlien chuckled and looked down at the bow. “It is not imbued with any magic other than love.”
Ralowyn and Merrick exchanged glances, neither of them understanding his meaning.
“This bow is of the finest quality you will ever see in Tarrine,” he continued. “It has no magic. But it was crafted for me by the greatest weapon-smith Loralith has ever known. My father.”
“I could not take it.” Merrick waved it away. “I have a bow of my own. I made it myself. I could not take such a prize from you.”
“I would not give it to just anyone,” the master said and looked at Ralowyn’s violet eyes. “I give it to you, huntsman. For I would have you protect her as much as she is charged with protecting you.”
Ralowyn pulled at Merrick’s bow, which he let her remove from his sling. The man accepted the elven gift with as much gratitude as he could offer.
“Very good. Very good,” Tenlien stated, happy with the man’s new gear. “Off to the training room,” he barked. “I hope you aren’t tired, huntsman.”
Merrick surrendered a pleading smile. He was more than tired.
“I have to teach you how to summon the bird this night,” the master continued. “For tomorrow, you fly.”