Wanderer Page 2

  Dorlagar stood for a long time looking up into the trees at the home of the wood elves. The wooden platforms, ornate dwellings, and suspension bridges connecting them all seemed to fade in and out of the mist. He finally approached the lift, which seemed to go up and down with only the power of magic, and waited until others had boarded it to join them as it started its ascent. His human awkwardness in comparison to the catlike grace of the elves belied him as the lift silently began its journey upward: he nearly fell off the side, to the giggling amusement of some neophyte rangers standing on the other side of the platform. As the platform slowed to a stop, Dorlagar bowed deeply before the gaggle of elves, as a seasoned performer would before an applauding audience. Under his helm his eyes turned as red as blood, and he memorized the faces of each of the rangers, then imagined them all dead at his feet.

  As he stepped off the platform into Aynamaede, he was struck by its ingenuity and beauty. The dwellings were so very tiny, and they seemed to fade into the vegetation. There was a merchant set up just to the left of the platform, and Dorlagar hurried to ask her directions to the cleric’s guild.

  The female’s eyes narrowed as Dorlagar stopped in front of her wares. “Be gone, human,” she said, her tone sinister and low.

  “I seek only information, kind lady,” Dorlagar said, trying to pull an ounce or two of charm from deep within him. “I have come seeking the cleric’s guild, do you know…”

  The wood elf cut him off. “I said, be gone!” she roared. Dorlagar quickly headed for another merchant, fearing she had attracted the attention of the guards by the lift. His quest to find out what had happened to his sister, Raedea, would not be an easy one if no one in Aynamaede would speak with him.

  Three

  Nelenie stretched and stood, her movements unusually catlike, even for a high elf. Her meditating had gone quite well that afternoon, and she felt strong enough to cast any of the spells she had learned that day. Unfortunately, her guild master would not meet her to test her until the moon shone full again in the night sky, so she would just have to wait…or would she? A smile crept across her chiseled face. Nelenie quickly bound her long golden hair up in a ponytail on top of her head, pulled on her traveling coat and breeches, and then slid her feet into her dwarven-made boots that had been a gift from her master upon completing an important part of her training as a knight. She stopped to admire herself in the large mirror on the outer wall of her home in the high elf citadel.

  Her traveling coat had been given to her by her parents the day that she finished her guild training. It was made of soft black wolf hide, and had an intricate pattern woven with bleached spider silks all the way around the edges and cuffs of the sleeves. The spider silks looked like normal white thread during the daytime, but under the full moon, they shined like polished silver. Nelenie could put this coat on and nearly disappear into the darkness while traveling through the forest at night. She tiptoed out of her family dwelling and began running for the northern end of the walled citadel, and the entrance to the forest.

  Her eyes adjusted automatically to the dark as she ran past the guards, and she began to follow the path that would lead her north to the tree city of her wood elf cousins. Nelenie wrinkled her nose at the thought of the wood elves living in trees, foraging for food… In her estimation, there was no need to live that way when one could live in the magnificent splendor of the citadel, like the civilized folk. The legends told that the wood elves were merely high elves that had gotten lost in the forest and remained there, seeking shelter in the trees from the orc threat on the ground. It was because of their need to camouflage themselves that each successive generation was born smaller in stature that the previous, and why the wood elves that Nelenie now knew were as tall as her shoulder.

  Grunting noises to her left stopped Nelenie in her tracks. Without moving a muscle, she shifted her eyes to the left until she spotted an orc youngling hiding behind a tree, clearly watching her run past. Nelenie quickly closed her eyes and called on the spells she had memorized already, but when she opened her eyes, she nearly gasped aloud at what she saw.

  Just as the orc stepped out from behind the tree to attack, the tree began to shimmer and shake with light. Nelenie found herself frozen with fear and curiosity. A blast of orange light streamed from the tree into the orc, igniting the orc’s skin. The orc turned his horrific face toward the tree in astonishment as more sparks flew from the sides of the tree in his direction.

  He turned to run as Nelenie scanned the area for the magic user that had scared him away, but saw no one. “Show yourself,” she said in the common tongue, language of the humans and the most common language spoken on Orana, and as she did, she gathered up all of the authority of a much more seasoned warrior into her haughty high elf composure. “Are you behind that tree?”

  Tinkling laughter filled the leaves of the trees above her, as though being carried along on the slight breeze that lifted tendrils of her golden hair. “Not so much behind the tree,” said a voice that sounded at the same time feminine and masculine, both whispering and booming, “as much as IN the tree!” Nelenie blinked, and before her stood her distant cousin and childhood playmate, Gin. “Glad to know that tree-form spell works,” the wood elf giggled.

  “Don’t you spend enough time in those trees as it is?” Nelenie teased her, switching to back to the common language of the elves, just in case there were more orcs about. As soon as the girls were old enough to begin their guild training, they rarely saw each other anymore. Nelenie was often lonesome for her friend and cousin, as her natural abilities made her training easy and left her with a lot of free time.

  “Orana’s bounty is all around us, Nel,” the wood elf said, her voice softening with obvious respect and awe. “The breeze that caresses our cheek is Her hand. The soft moss that we sit on to rest and mediate is Her lap. The trees that you so malign,” said Gin, grinning at her cousin in jest, “are but Orana’s fingers, holding us skyward and keeping us safe.” Gin looked closely at Nelenie, her features turning sad for a moment upon noticing Nelenie’s slightly wrinkled nose and disdainful expression. “You’ve started to become like the rest of them, haven’t you?” she asked sadly.

  “What do you mean? What, 'rest of them'?” Nelenie muttered something in the elder Elvish language, and Gin pointed her finger at the other girl’s ivory nose.

  “That, Nelenie! Speaking the language of the elder Elvish races in front of me, speaking of my religion with condescension in your voice…” The smaller elf’s eyes rimmed with tears. She sniffed a bit, wiping her nose on the sleeve of her rawhide tunic. “You think of us wood elves as your chambermaids and servants. I had just hoped that you and I would always be friends, but I suppose that’s not to be.”

  Nelenie’s eyes were also brimming with tears. “You’re no better,” she said, changing back to Elvish. “You expect me to be haughty and self-important because I’m a high elf.” Nelenie sniffed loudly and then continued, regaining her composure. “You’re the ones that think ill of us, wood elf, and not the other way around.” She folded her arms over her chest and glared down at Gin, who was reciting a spell. “What are you doing?”

  Slowly and carefully, Gin’s feet left the ground as a pocket of air coagulated beneath them. She rose from the ground until she was looking Nelenie squarely in the eyes.

  “Say that again, high elf, but look me in the eye and smile this time,” she hissed, trying to keep her giggles at bay and maintain a stern expression. Nelenie smiled at her, also fighting off a fit of laughter as Gin bobbed in front of her. “Oh, and by the way,” she added, grinning from ear to ear, “tag, you’re it!” Rapping Nelenie soundly on the top of her blonde head, Gin dashed off into the trees. Nelenie charged after her, laughing as she had not since the two were tiny girls, zooming in and out of the trees. She ran right up to Gin immediately, using the additional length of her legs to her advantage. Just as she would have rapped Gin on the head, the wood elf disappeared into the canopy, using magi
c to make herself invisible.

  “Drat!” Nelenie exclaimed, still grinning. “Rule number one: never play tag with a druid. They CHEAT!” She could hear Gin’s tinkling laughter in the leaves as she continued down the path alone.

  Four

  “Just one more step back, Shadow Knight,” the merchant said. “If you just back up a bit, so that no one thinks I’m selling to the likes of you, I’ll consider your trade.” Dorlagar looked over his shoulder, but the now swirling mists obscured his view of his surroundings. “Go on, if you want the information you seek, step back!” The tiny wood elf could barely contain her excitement. One more step and the human would topple over the edge of the platform, smashing his disgusting skull on the ground below.

  “One more step and I’ll fall,” Dorlagar said, his voice sounding low and ragged as he struggled to keep his anger in check. Dark magic using warriors were magically able to draw in the aggression and hatred of their opponents in battle, and Dorlagar felt the familiar rush of emotion coming from the wood elf merchant. He had hoped to trade some of his looted weapons for information on the cleric’s guild in Aynamaede, but now he was not even sure there was such a place.

  “Now I couldn’t take your trade if you fell, could I human?” the female taunted him. “I’ve spent too long arguing with you as it is, either you step back or we have no deal.” She folded her slender arms across her chest and glared up at Dorlagar, who took a deep breath and prepared himself for what would likely be a nasty fall, and then stepped backward.

  Gin felt herself reappearing at the lift to Aynamaede. She quickly scampered up a nearby hill and began reciting the words that would make her levitate. Aiudin had told her that she needed to learn how to get into the tree city without using the lift, and so far, she had managed to get high enough to jump on the lift after it began its ascent. She felt her feet leave the ground, and ran straight out into the air, headed for the platform.

  Dorlagar was not sure if it was the rush of air or the turning of his stomach that let him know he was falling. Knowing that there was nothing to grab onto between the platform and the ground because the elves made sure their city was impenetrable, he merely closed his eyes and tried to call up a spell to heal himself…if he should survive the fall at all. When his body did collide with something from below, he was surprised to find that it was not the forest floor…it seemed that he had landed on a body! Dorlagar rolled to his side, and off whomever he had hit, as stabbing pain shot through his upper body. Gradually, his wounds began to heal from the spell cast in mid-air, and he could hear the wood elf merchant shrieking with pain from above him. A satisfied smile spread over Dorlagar’s face. His magic came from a very dark place indeed, and in order to heal his wounds, the magic would exact its price from the closest living thing. His face twisted with delight at the sounds of agony from above.

  As soon as he could, Dorlagar pushed up on his elbow in an effort to see the damage his fall had done. There was a body there indeed, but it just looked to be another one of the wood elves that were now scurrying above him, trying to heal the human sized wounds still bombarding the merchant’s tiny body. Dorlagar, pleased that the pain was not as great as he had assumed it would be, studied the limp form next to him. “One more dead wood elf,” he murmured. “Oh well, there’s plenty of them here, they won’t miss this one.” A chain mail armored arm covered the elf’s face, but Dorlagar could clearly tell that his victim was female. “Wonder if she’d really miss that sword,” he said in a whisper as he ogled the ebony blade in the elf’s tiny fingers. “Not going to need it where she’s going anyway,” he chuckled to himself as he inched over to the body. He did not relish the idea of breaking the elf’s slender fingers to get the blade from her, but a second glance at the jeweled hilt of the blade steeled his resolve. “That armor’s probably worth good coin per piece at the market,” he mumbled as he lifted the elf’s arm.

  He was amazed at how light her arm felt to him, even though it should have been weighted down with the armor that she wore all over her body. The metal was a deep azure in color, and reminded Dorlagar briefly of the night sky in his home city. Reminding himself to focus, he set to the task of uncurling her fingers from the hilt of the blade. He did not see her open her eyes ever so slightly, and did not hear her begin mouthing the words to a spell in Elvish. All Dorlagar saw or heard was a flash of light and the crackle of his skin igniting. He stumbled backward with a bellow and drew his blade, clouds of pitch coalescing around his fingers as they always did in combat.

  Gin slowly got to her feet, her blade thrust forward at the human. She continued to recite magical words in her language, and once again, Dorlagar felt as though he was on fire from the inside out. “You kill my wolf, fall on me and then loot my body for armor and weapons before you’re even sure if I’m dead? Typical of a human,” she hissed at him, her tiny frame suddenly seeming large and more forceful than it had moments before. Dorlagar blinked, knowing her size now to be a spell or glamour, and tried to back away, but she was again reciting something in the Elvish language. Roots sprang from the ground under Dorlagar; they wound around his boots and up his legs, and held him fast. “I don’t know if I should kill you or let the guards do it,” Gin said, staring down the human. “All it would take is a word from me…”

  “Where is the compassion you showed that wolf?” Dorlagar blurted out. He silently chided himself for showing fear, but as the sole and now-hated human in a glade of magic-using elves, he felt a bit outnumbered. “Can you not show me compassion, wood elf?”

  Gin’s gaze remained stalwart, but the roots weakened, so Dorlagar continued his plea. “I did not hurl myself from the platforms of your cursed city with the intention of squashing you like a beetle,” he said, his voice regaining some cool steadiness. “Instead I was tricked into backing up and falling off the edge. I am in fact indebted to you, my fair elf,” he said, purposefully trying to charm her into not zapping him again with that fire spell. “Had it not been for you, my dear, I would have been the squashed beetle.”

  He stood still, feeling the magical roots that held him fast to the ground fall away. Gin made no move to strike him, but he was not about to sheath his blade until he was sure he could either fight or get away. “In fact, my lovely little blueberry colored elf, I believe that I am indebted to you for my life.” He inched closer to her, intent on relieving her of her weapon as an angry expression exploded onto her face.

  “Your little blueberry…what?” she roared. As he lunged for her, she deftly jabbed at his armor with her sword, but her blow bounced off the now-dented metal that covered Dorlagar’s chest. Following the momentum of the blow, she spun around and sunk her blade into his arm at the elbow, amazingly catching the few inches of skin exposed between pieces of armor. Dorlagar howled like a beast, and the black clouds began forming around his hands once more.

  Drawing back as though cocking a bow with an arrow, Dorlagar thrust his hands forward toward Gin with a loud cry, dark magic pouring from his fingers toward her. She felt as though she was turned inside out. All of the hatred and anger that she had felt for Dorlagar came surging like a tidal wave into his body. Eyes glowing blood red, he ran at her and dealt her a blow to her cheek with his own blade that sent her reeling to the ground. The sound of the melee alerted the guards, who came running. Gin felt moisture on her face, and touched the spot. It was blood. The human’s blade had sliced open her cheek!

  “This will teach you to enter the forest, human!” yelled one of the guards as he brought his sword down onto Dorlagar’s chipped helm. Gin scrambled to her feet and grabbed the guard’s elbow, shrieking at him that Dorlagar was her kill, but the guard merely tossed her aside like a rag doll. The elven guard and Dorlagar exchanged blows as Gin stood to the side watching. She focused her energy on Dorlagar, ready to delve into his mind and to try to calm his anger, but the image that she saw in his mind nearly knocked her off her feet. In a flash of pictures and feelings, she suddenly knew why he was in the forest. S
he saw him with his sister, Raedea, felt his love for his twin, and nearly wept at the pain of their parting.

  “Stop!” she called out to the guard. “Let him go, he’s no threat to us here.” The guard ignored her and continued to match Dorlagar’s assault, blow for blow. Gin ran in between them and threw her arms up in the air, releasing her blade and calling on her magic to soothe them and to reduce the aggression in both of them. By dropping her weapon, she gave Dorlagar the perfect out that he needed, and he took it. Grabbing her around the throat with one of his now bloody arms as he scooped up her weapon in the other hand, he tightened his grip until she was gasping for air, which completely interrupted her spell casting.

  “Let me leave or I’ll kill her,” he hissed at the guard. He pressed the tip of the ebony blade into the soft flesh just under her chin, but Gin did not seem to notice. Gin kicked at his legs and wriggled about trying to free herself from his grasp, but found that she could not. The human was simply too tall, and her feet were dangling in mid-air. She silently reprimanded herself for dropping her blade when she raised her hands to cast that spell. Pleading with her eyes, Gin locked her gaze on the guard. The guard looked from her to Dorlagar and then backed up three paces.

  “Leave this glen,” the Guard barked. “Do not return. By order of the Soldiers of the Forest Guard, you are now Kill-On-Sight in the whole of the forest. Gin, daughter of the forest, Druid of Sephine, your certain death will be avenged,” he said before turning back to his post at the lift. Dorlagar did not wait for the guard to make good on the oath and ran toward the stone circle with a struggling Gin still caught firmly in the crook of his elbow.