The Elf King (5 page)

Shadox sighed deeply. His
tan face was lined with anger and confusion. “How...how could this
have happened?”

“
Persuasion by the Dark
Elves can be overpowering to anyone. Dren was young; ambitious. He
wanted to know more before he was able. I feel he kept a lot of
anger still from his youth. The Dark Elves would have used that as
a tool to persuade him. Dren wouldn’t have even known he was in
danger.”

Lord Estrial stared blankly
for a second, his eyes distant. “They began experimenting with
crystals and potions, trying to create stronger magic. And once
they found out how, there was no turning back.”

Shadox firmly placed one
hand upon the other’s shoulder. “It is not you to blame, Terill. He
was my charge.”

Terill didn’t necessarily
agree, but he understood the other’s guilt. Dren was a young boy,
an orphan when Shadox found him and took him under his wing,
teaching and training him. Dren took to it almost naturally. For
months at a time the two would exercise the craft, and when Shadox
departed for weeks at a time, Dren stayed behind with the Elves,
learning from those who understood the magic far better than anyone
else, until he was old enough to test his skill and knowledge on
his own.

Shadox treated him as he
would a son, giving advice and sharing wisdom outside of magic and
talismans. The two held a strong bond that the elder did not ever
see breaking. The young boy reminded Shadox of himself at an early
age, noticing several traits and characteristics they held in
common. And now Dren’s magic was nearly as powerful as his own.
Stronger perhaps, he thought, if Dren had been subverted into
the
Mrenx Ku
.

“
I’m sorry, Terill. I was
gone for too long.” Shadox embraced his friend.

Terill hugged him tight,
then let go. “Find him. Save him, if you can.”

Commotion filled the
hallway just beyond Estrial’s door, shouts and a flooding of
footsteps erupted, growing louder. The sorcerer and the Elf Lord
looked to the door just as a heavy thudding beat at it
continuously.

“
Lord Estrial! Lord
Estrial!” A voice summoned from the hall. “Please, I must speak to
you!”

It was Bim, a scout on the
fringes of the Lyyn, loyal and dependable. Terill looked at the
sorcerer in question, hearing the desperate pleas continue,
noticing the panic in the halls escalating.

“
Enter!” he called
out.

Instantly the door swung
in, a mass of rushing bodies seen in the hallway before the elf
closed the door, and hurried to relay his message. Nodding quickly
in homage, and not waiting to be recognized, the elf began speaking
eagerly, his words spilling out on top of each other.

“
My Lord, forgive my
intrusion. I have just received a message from Cillitran. It is
reliable and cannot be taken for anything but the urgent
truth.”

Terill cut in quickly,
seeing the panic in Bim’s eyes. “What is it, Bim?”

The elf looked scared,
glancing up to the sorcerer. Terill waved off any questions,
“You’re fine. Speak.”

Bim did so quickly. Wearing
his hunting attire, the elf nervously rubbed his hat with his
narrow fingers. “My Lord, the news is not good. King Andelline was
assassinated just this morning.” He watched their faces turn
instantly; the Elf Lord and Shadox were stunned. Bim paused for a
second before adding, “It was an Elven blade, my Lord. There will
be no peace talks.”

The young messenger stood
his ground for a moment, watching the shock move in waves across
their faces, watching the disbelief settle with confusion. Bim
swallowed hard. “That is all, my Lord.” He nodded fully, and then
left the room to join the turmoil in the hall.

Terill’s eyes were wide,
his mouth sagged open. “This cannot be. We would not have...” His
voice trailed off as he wandered over to sit at the table, the
blood appearing to have been drained from his face.

Shadox followed. He stood
at Terill’s side and rested one great hand on the elf’s shoulder,
turning him, pulling him close so that their eyes were inches
apart. The sadness swept from his dark eyes, turning hard. “Prepare
your men for war, Lord Estrial.” He turned for the door leading
outside, drawing his hood over his head.

“
You’re leaving
now?”

As Shadox reached the door,
he wheeled back, seemingly angered. “I go first to restore order to
the house of Andelline, then mass an army to fight the
Mrenx Ku
. If we are
lucky, I can reason with them before they attack. Spare their lives
however, we will need them. Create whatever magic you can to aid
us. Be ready, Elf Lord, for the darkest battle.”

“
Men are no threat.” Terill
dismissed Shadox’s concern annoyingly.

Shadox paused briefly, his
eyes narrowed coldly. “Elf Lord, an army of demons created by
the
Mrenx Ku
marches south. Its numbers I could not count. Find talismans,
my Lord. Find them soon.”

Terill Estrial swallowed
hard. He felt his strength waiver. “We will be ready, sorcerer. But
what would you do for the house of Andelline? The King and Prince
are dead!”

Shadox’s voice was deep and
threatening as he hastily unfastened the locks on the side door.
“Worry for your own, Elf Lord. Worry much.” Shadox slipped quickly
through the entrance, disappearing into the garden.

Mulling it over in his
head, Terill Estrial walked to the window and looked out to the
courtyard seeing no trace of the sorcerer.

D
eep
below the surface
of stagnant water and soil, beyond the burning
midmorning sunlight, hidden in the lost ruins of an underground
citadel, moans and wails of constant pain echoed relentlessly. In
the darkness, dozens of Seers stood chained hand and foot to the
wall circling a massive ball of pitch blackness. Their bodies were
arched forward, chest out, arms and legs stretched back, iron
chains taut, as if something was pushing them away from the dirt
wall, or sucking them from their prison. Their mouths held open,
giving them a ghostly appearance.

But they were not dead. Not
entirely.

At their feet, lay the
empty husks of Seers whose purposes had been carried out and their
flesh was no longer needed. Their stricken faces were singed around
the blackened, empty sockets, while some still had a thin sheet of
smoke rising into the pungent, unbreatheable air.

Suddenly bolts of black
light snaked their way onto the lifeless corpses, slithering from
the dark ball of energy. The magic consumed its victims’ bodies,
coating their flesh, sinking into it, nesting a home. Minutes later
the bodies convulsed, heaving and throbbing as if something
terribly wrong was taking place within them. Wails of unbridled
pain exploded from their mouths as the black light brought them to
life. Rising slowly, the new
Takers
stood before their master and awaited a
command.

In their midst, blacker
than the gloom surrounding it, the
Mrenx
Ku
pulsated with life. It was strong enough
to poison the land around it, to pollute the air and water. It
would extend its range south and corrupt all life there as well.
Everything would be destroyed. A piece of itself was already
working on destroying those who could prevent its overtaking. That
spirit, that small piece of itself, would find the powerful
talisman and return it before the world even knew it existed. Then
it would take shape and leave the lair. Then darkness would fall
and the rebirth would begin.

Until then, the
Takers
would do its
bidding.

Chapter 4

“
H
old up!” exhaled Tane Ellantri sharply, doubling over next to
a tree, gasping for air in his aching lungs. His body ached all
over. Sweat coated his pale face in a shine, while his clothing was
soaked. Dizzied, he slumped against the tree and began sliding
down, blackness washing over his sight.

Qenn turned, seeing his
brother on the verge of collapsing. “Tane!”

“
Qenn…” Tane mumbled
incoherently.

Qenn rushed back and knelt
beside his brother. “Take a few minutes. Get your breath.” Qenn
produced a smooth brown pouch from his waist-belt and began to
trickle water into Tane’s mouth, a little at first then more as he
could handle it. After a few moments, he allowed himself a much
needed drink. “We’ll fill up once we get to the Krune. Give me a
minute, and I’ll get you something to eat.”

They were midway through a
thicket of woods, moving towards the eastern edge of the Lower
Krune, still days away from Skadar Port. They had run straight
through the night and into the morning without slowing, the
Takers
fresh in their
minds, and their last visions of their mother and Bryni was enough
to fuel them without slowing. By navigating from the stars, they
stayed far from the main trails, far from anyone, anything
traveling. They encountered nothing through the darkness of the
forest and now as the sun shined overhead, the brothers still felt
as if they were being followed.

Qenn spoke softly. “I can
still feel them.”

Tane understood. He was
also having a hard time shaking off their presence. “Rest, Qenn.
Regain some strength.”

Qenn’s mind was still back
in Meadow. “I keep thinking that any moment I’ll wake up and this
would all be just…”

“
When your father died,”
Tane began, “I became closer to her. She was the only one who could
tell me about my own father. I kept hoping that someday she would
tell me something else. Something that she had kept
secret.”

“
Something that would fill
the void.” Qenn added, knowing how his brother felt at never seeing
his own father. Qenn’s mother had told them both that he had died
before Tane was born. Years later, she met an elf and married. A
year later, Qenn was conceived.

“
Just...anything else,
Qenn.” Tane looked over to his brother. “Don’t take it the wrong
way. Your father raised me as his own, and I loved him very much.
But a piece of me will always wonder what my blood-father was
like.”

Qenn understood. He patted
his brother on the shoulder. “I would, too.” They were quiet then
for a few minutes, before Tane stood to his feet and scanned the
woods around them, towering over his brother, who now was slumped
against a tree. After several long minutes, Tane felt
normal.

“
Wait here. I’ll get some
food. I won’t be far.”

Qenn nodded, far too
emotionally drained to speak, and watched dim-eyed as his brother
walked towards some bushes, then disappeared within
them.

Qenn cried instantly. The
tears came just as they had all night. The image of his mother’s
face wouldn’t leave him. The fact that he had not been there to
save her would haunt him forever. His face ached from crying, but
he couldn’t stop. He had searched long and hard for reasons, but
came up empty. And he could feel a piece of him being torn; his
heart was breaking in a way he never thought was
possible.