Pyria looked down at her daughter, now a grown woman, with sadness in her eyes. Had it not been for her gifts she could have been raised the same as other children and could have been married with a child of her own by now. Pyria sighed. She hated leaving Allanyra in while she lay in her unconscious state but they desperately needed supplies and Pyria had waited three days already.
She leaned down and kissed her sleeping daughter on the forehead and gently whispered in her ear, "I shall return soon my dear child."
Her eyes shot open at the familiar screeching sound she had heard so many times before. Though she had already known what was to happen, she seemed to have no control over herself as the same fear coursed through her veins as she shot up out of the bed she had been lying in.
Allanyra's hand reached out to where her bow and quiver lay propped against her bed and quickly took them in hand, slinging her quiver across her back before darting off in the direction of the screech.
The scene changed before her eyes and Allanyra found herself running along the beach near where she and her mother lived raising her bow with an arrow knocked and the bowstring drawn back to her cheek ready to fire. An agonizing cry of grief and anger ripped from the bottom of her lungs and out her mouth as she fired the arrow at a grotesque demonic creature that was tearing through her mother as though she were a mere piece of paper. The arrow flew through the air on a direct course for the creature's skull, though it moved at the lat moment and the arrow ripped through it wing instead. Allanyra fell to her knees with tears streaming down her face. The creature gave a pained shriek only sparing Allanyra a glance before it flew in the opposite direction and landing on the beach.
Allanyra, with blurry eyes looked to where the creature now stood, closing in on two figures that were clouded from her vision just as they had always been. They stood crouched, ready to run for their very lives at any moment. One of them, the one with a larger build whom Allanyra had presumed to be male, stood protectively in front of the other, a figure of a smaller and more delicate build that Allanyra guessed to be a female.
Despite the emotional pain that seemed to be nearly crippling her, Allanyra quickly snatched another arrow from her quiver, knocking it while pulling the bowstring back to rest against her cheek and aimed once again for the creatures head. She knew what would happen next. Just as her arrow would strike, another shadowed figure would come with a well crafted sword in his hand and slice at the creature's arm and then decapitate it in one fluid motion.
Something was different this time around though. Twenty years of seeing the exact same thing only for it to change now.
The figure that decapitated the demonic like creature was no longer shrouded from her vision. She could see him as clearly as she could see the creature that killed her mother. As he completed his strike against the creature, it lashed out at him in a last attempt to defend itself from the killing blow knocking the man to the ground on his back as the creature's head rolled slightly before stopping due to the arrow sticking out of it. All Allanyra saw however was the man. Everything seemed to fade away slowly as she took in his rough appearance.
His skin was tanned and his robes were a grey color with a reddish tint and crimson trimming. His belt held a metal sheath for his sword. The blow he had received from the creature had caused his robes to fall open revealing a pair of leather breaches as well as a heavy leather chest plate. As he stood, he seemed to not even notice her as he turned to speak to the two figures that Allanyra could still not make out. As she continued to examine him, her eyes were drawn to the strange markings that reached out from beneath the collar of his robes and up above his ears that appeared to have been craved into his skin. His black brown hair had been shaved away from all but the top of his head where it remained quite full.
It was then that he turned to face her with a curious expression on his face. He had a small beard that had practically no length though it was full otherwise. His features were as rough yet full and she could not deny that he was handsome though she felt no romantic attraction to this man at all.
Her own silver eyes that were barely tinted brown met chocolate orbs that she could tell had seen years of hardship and grief though some still seemed to be quite fresh. He had suffered much throughout his life.
There seemed to be something almost vaguely familiar about this man though she had no idea why as she was quite sure that she had never met him before in her life.
Before she even had anytime to think about this, everything went dark for a moment. A new and horrific scene materialized in front of her. Blood had pooled around the six dead bodies that were spread around an elegant room with what she believed to be a thrown on the center of the back wall. Allanyra held in a sickening shudder at the scene. Once again she saw the man from the previous vision. Nothing about him had changed, save that the grief that had been so painfully obvious in his eyes before was now only a shadow compared to what had been previously.
He entered the room with four elven men following behind him. One appeared to be quite elderly and around the same age as Allanyra's mother who was dressed in regal garments and had the golden crown of Arborlon upon his head. This was undoubtedly King Eventine. Behind him were two elven men who Allanyra guessed to be around five to ten years her elder and held quite the resemblance to one another. The final occupant of the room was a few years younger than herself. He had medium length blond hair and a youthful face.
Focusing on the dead elven boys, not quite old enough to be true men, she saw they wore the garb of the Chosen. A group of seven elves who proved themselves worthy of the responsibility of protecting the sacred Ellcrys which was said to be the only thing holding back a demon army from waging war on the earth. Though Allanyra may have been raised away from society, her mother made sure she was quite educated. Especially on the histories of their world.
Once again her vision changed and she saw what could only be the Ellcrys. The grand tree sat in the center of a beautiful sanctuary, yet something was not right.
She took a closer look at the tree to see a leaf fall from the tree burning into ash as it fell to the ground. Gashes ran all along the trunk of the tree with red blood seeping from them. The Ellcrys was sick.
Fear was struck into Allanyra's heart at this realization. While most believed the tale of the Ellcrys to be nothing more than legend as well as the demons it kept imprisoned, Pyria had taught Allanyra that it was much more than just some legend.
"Allanyra!" came a shrieking of what sounded like a woman.
Allanyra clamped her hands down over her ears as the shrieking continued piercing Allanyra's ears like a knife. The pain soon became to much to bear as the voice shrieked for her to help it desperately. As she looked up to the tree she saw that it was turning black, charred, and bloody.
"Why did you abandon me?!" the voice cried, now feeling as though it were inside her head and beating around causing the pain to double in an instant and Allanyra screamed herself as she fell to her knees unable to bear it any longer.
Dark spots began to take over Allanyra's sight as she fell onto er side limply. Just before her vision went completely dark, she caught a glimpse of a demonic looking elven like creature reaching towards her. As it's gnarled hand reached her face and made contact, Allanyra lost all consciousness.
Pyria felt a pang in her heart as she collected the last few things they would need. She always struggled with the same fears when she left Allanyra alone while unconscious. What if someone were to find her while she was in such a defenseless state? It wouldn't have been the first time that trolls or rovers had wandered close enough to find their home, but no one had ever found Allanyra while she was unconscious and alone.
A nearby scream of what sounded like a young woman caught her attention. Pyria hurried to help the distressed sounding woman though what or rather who she found was quite shocking to her.
While it was true that she had not seen her family since she had heard of Allanon's death she still would have recognized the young woman anywhere. She was the spitting image of her mother, though her father could be seen in her as well. This young woman was her great niece and princess of Arborlon, Amberle Elessedil.
Allanon stood in the throne room with the elven king, Eventine, the two living princes, as well as Wil Ohmsford where the bloody corpses of all but two of the Chosen were strewn about. Dark days truly were ahead if the Chosen had been murdered. Something else seemed to be pulling and tugging at his mind however as they stood there.
He could feel a presence as someone else were there with them though the person was not actually there in physical form. Reaching out with his mind, Allanon located the presence and turned to it. While the others saw only the stone wall of the room, the druid could see a figure beginning to come into his view slowly.
He was soon able to see the figure of a young elven woman become clearer. Her hair fell in soft curly chocolate waves framing her face and down her back. She wore a cotton tunic dyed a dark green that seemed to be nearly a perfect match to the color of the leaves of a tree in a forest. Over this she wore a chest plate of leather with matching wrist guards. She also adorned a pair of light leather breaches of a soft brown coloring, as well as a worn and quite tattered faded green riding cloak that seemed almost vaguely familiar to the druid for some reason. His eyes then traveled to the young woman's face and Allanon tensed involuntarily at the sight before him.
Her face was an almost perfect replica of his once love, Pyria Elessedil, though there were some notable differences. The features of this young woman were slightly less angular than Pyria's almost as if this young woman were not entirely elven. His eyes then traveled to meet her and warm chocolate brown orbs met a rather strange hued set of silver eyes tinted brown. There was something about this elf that eluded Allanon's mind. Something he could not quite place about her.
"Allanon?" Eventine asked softly, placing a hand on the druid's shoulder pulling Allanon from his thoughts.
Allanon looked to his old friend, then glanced back at where the young elven woman had been to find her form no longer present. The druid looked back to his friend to see the concerned look he held as well as the sadness and worry over the deaths of the Chosen.
"Are you well my friend?" Eventine asked in a low voice so as to keep the others from hearing him.
Allanon simply nodded his head on response and knelt down in the center of the room clutching the Codex of Paranor to his chest. Images and scenes of the deaths of the Chosen began to flood into his mind. He could hear their dying screams and desperate cries for help that would not come as they did everything they could to escape their death causing Allanon to wince. He then caught a glimpse of their murderer. The one who had murdered the Chosen was a demon.
As Allanon stood, the elder of Eventine's surviving sons stepped forwards to his father and said, "This must have been the work of gnomes. They've struck at the heart of the palace before."
The druid, however, knew better and corrected the elven prince as he walked around the bodies still holding onto the codex.
"Gnomes had not part in this," he said, drawing their attention to him as he looked down on the body of one of the fallen Chosen who had been skewered on a small table. "It was the work of the Dagda Mor."
"The Dagda what?" the elder of the two princes asked as though Allanon had been speaking a foreign language.
"He is a powerful elven druid who was corrupted by dark magic. He has been plotting his revenge now for thousands of years," Allanon explained solemnly.
"If he is a druid, can't you find and destroy one of your own?" the prince questioned.
Allanon let out a sigh as he responded, "I tried but he is cloistered in a black hinge which cloaks his location."
Wil walked forward to the druid from the door looking quite nervous and asked, "I don't understand. If he really has escaped the forbidding, why doesn't he attack himself?"
"According to the codex, the weaker the Ellcrys gets the stronger he becomes," Allanon replied before turning to face Eventine who now stood by his throne which held one of the six dead Chosen. "But he won't be truly free to walk this earth until the last leaf has fallen."
It was Wil who spoke while Eventine's face went more pale and grave than it had been previously.
"Kill the Chosen and you kill the Ellcrys," Wil realized with eyes wide.
Allanon turned back to face Wil and said, "Until then, he'll dispatch his demons to carry out his murderous biddings. Like he has done here."
The elder prince asked that everyone but he and his father leave the room though Allanon looked to Eventine who nodded before complying and leaving with Wil, shortly followed by the younger of the two princes. He led Wil away from the room and to the end of a vacated hallway before Wil spoke again.
"If Princess Amberle is the last of the Chosen then how come the Ellcrys can't find her?" he asked.
"The Ellcrys has called to her but she needs to return voluntarily. Nobody can be forced into service," Allanon told him.
"Can't you use your magic like you did at Druid's Keep?" Wil asked, a mere question holding no malice or condescension.
"Finding a dusty old book is much easier than tracking a willful girl who doesn't want to be found," Allanon answered, though it was not the entire truth. "I need you to search the princess's quarters. Don't tell anyone of your mission. The Dagda Mor has an agent in these walls. And Wil, don't screw up. If the Dagda Mor finds Amberle before we do, the world ends."
With that, the druid left Wil standing there to go and think on all that had occurred. As well as the mysterious young half elf he had seen in the throne room.
Princess Amberle of Arborlon woke in an old, beat up small fishing boat with the sounds of crashing waves filling her ears and a blanket underneath her. She looked up with bleary eyes to see the mask of a troll hanging on the tree in front of her and felt her heart rate quicken with fear.
"Ignore that," came the elderly voice of a woman who then came into Amberle's view as her vision cleared. She had braided grey hair that was pulled down over her right shoulder with tanned skin and deep and warm brown eyes. "I use him to scare the bark nuts off of any rover that comes sniffing around."
The realization of who this woman was hit Amberle within an instant and she immediately began to calm down and relax her tense posture.
"Aunt Pyria!" the young princess exclaimed happily as the two embraced one another.
"You are the spitting image of your mother," Pyria said kindly as she looked at Amberle. "Now, what are you doing out here? You could have been kidnapped or killed."
The joy of seeing her great aunt then subsided and her memories of all that had happened returned to her and she looked to her aunt with wide eyes saying, "I'm in trouble. I need your help."
"How far along are you?" Pyria questioned lightly, not even thinking to judge the young woman before her even if she was pregnant but not yet married. After all, that would be quite hypocritical of her.
The question gave Amberle a small shock though she gave a half chuckle at the though wishing that was all it was and said, "I'm not pregnant. In your letters you said you witnessed magic during the war of the races."
Pyria looked to the side of her great niece and gave a small nod as she though of everything, including the birth of her won daughter whom even Amberle knew nothing of, though Pyria felt that would change very soon. If it had not been magic then she had no plausible explanation for how it was that she carried and gave birth to a child five years after she lost the only man she had ever laid with. Still she answered, "That was a very long time ago."
"You still believe in it," Amberle asked almost seeming nervous of Pyria's answer more than stated.
"What's really going on Amberle?" Pyria asked the young princess curiously.
Unaware of a new presence a small ways behind her great aunt, Amberle admitted, "I ran the gauntlet and won. I became a member of the Chosen."
Pyria chuckled and told her, "Your grandfather must be furious. Good for you!"
"No, its a nightmare," Amberle quickly denied. "When I laid my hand on the Ellcrys I had a vision. Arborlon in flames! Demons feasting on the dead! It was a vision of the future. A future that is going to happen because I broke the rules. You need to help me stop it."
A short silence fell between the two as Pyria absorbed everything her niece had just told her.
"Whether it is or is not your fault is irrelevant. What is important however is that this is going to happen if we don't do something," a voice said causing Amberle's eyes to snap up and see a woman around her own age walking to stand behind Pyria, placing a gentle and loving hand on the old woman's shoulder.
Pyria glanced up at the woman with a loving smile that was promptly returned. They obviously had known and cared for one another for quite some time though Amberle had no idea of the second woman's identity. The princess could not help but wonder just who this other woman was to Pyria.
Her attention was then drawn back to her aunt as Pyria spoke again, "Try and get some rest Amberle. If you should need anything, Allanyra and I shall be within shouting distance."
With that said, the old woman walked away leaving the two younger women to stare at one another seemingly trying to figure the other out before speaking to them.
"Who are you?" the woman, Allanyra Amberle's aunt had called her, asked with a curious tone.
"Amberle Elessedil. May I ask who you are?" Amberle questioned in a tone not dissimilar to Allanyra's.
"My name is Allanyra," she replied, the lack of a surname puzzling Amberle a bit though Allanyra's next words would give her both the answer she was looking for and the shock of her life. "Pyria is my mother."