So, here's the scene with Elanee's elders - just a reminder that Elanee is a human in this story, adopted by the Circle, because it seemed a little odd that Casavir and Bishop would be the only humans in Isaviel's unlikely band :P - that's also why Sand is a half-Elf, too, for those who were wondering ^.^ Anyway, I hope you enjoy this installment, reviews are greatly appreciated, as always :)
By rights, the lands near Meredelain should not have been so cold. Sheltered in a basin of hills where forest grew up from the vast areas of farmland around Highcliff, the Mere had always been uncommonly warm in spite of the chill winds of the beginnings of the Frozen North not sixty miles away. Though the snowfall was light and infrequent, the ground was frosted and hard as Isaviel and her companions trod the path along which Bishop led them. They stayed off the road and sheltered often in some of the abandoned farms past Highcliff, keeping a careful distance from that claimed town and its more immediate lands. Aldanon had promised them that much of the eastern stretches of that region were free of the power of the King of Shadows, probably because it could easily be dealt with after a greater threat like Neverwinter. Still, most of those who dwelt there had evidently left in a hurry.
The further they travelled, keeping the Mere south and west of them, the clearer the influence of Illefarn's ancient Guardian became. Reaching the hills on the Mere's borderlands, even trees which should have been evergreen were dead and withered, leaves blackened by more than the cold, while the sky was dark and stormy, and the mists in the morning were thick and cloying. Elanee and Bishop found themselves in unusual accord with the insistence that they boil their water before drinking it. In spite of that precaution, Isaviel felt more than a little out of sorts by the time they set up camp amongst the trees, not an hour's walk from the High Road after five whole days of walking. Beyond that lay the Mere proper; they had espied its greyish shadow from the hilltops, and the occasional glassy twinkle of its polluted waters.
Here the clouds above them were thicker, and the air was too still, and too cold. The scar on Isaviel's chest had begun to burn with pain, and all of them had found their movement slowed, their feet dragging over the hard ground. The Moon Elf had just gritted her teeth and carried on until they made camp, even when the smell of rot wafted to them on the wind, and the sun was lost to them entirely. After West Harbour such things did not frighten her anymore. Still, it felt strange to think that, with any luck, Neeshka and the others ought to be heading back to the keep when Isaviel's troubles were likely only just beginning.
Isaviel had often wished over the course of their journey that she could send Khelgar and Grobnar ahead to the Ironfist Stronghold, because both were loud and unsubtle in their movement, and because every time the Gnome attempted to hum a tune by the camp fire, Bishop looked one glare closer to killing him. Grobnar had come skipping after them in the morning of their departure, no taller than an eight year old child, wide eyes so innocent, messy blonde hair gleaming in the cold winter sun. He had assumed his companionship was expected – and needed – and with the use of his legs fully returned to him at last, believed he could help. Or he perhaps believed he could persuade Isaviel to go looking for the Wendersnaven in the Duskwood.
It was on this final night before they expected to reach the Mere, when Isaviel returned from fighting practice with Khelgar – who had been sharing this duty with Bishop – that the Moon Elf noticed something was wrong with Elanee. The druid was pacing at the edges of the camp nervously, rubbing at her arms against the unnerving chill in the air, muttering miserably to herself. Grobnar had even put down his lute and was watching her from his bedroll by the fire concernedly.
"I'm not one for telling ye how to run yer keep, lass, but it seems to me that we should never've come here," Khelgar grunted as he passed the Moon Elf, not pointedly towards Elanee.
The Dwarf moved to his chosen place by Grobnar – both snored so loudly they alone would not wake each other up – and hunkered down by the fire as well, dropping his axe by his side. That weapon had seen far less use of late, now that he was becoming increasingly confident with the unarmed monk skills which those at the Temple of Tyr in Neverwinter had taught him. He opened his mouth to say more, but eventually noticed that Isaviel had not followed him and glanced back at her as she paused to watch Elanee closely.
"I can almost feel the shadows in the air…if you stay still for too long it's like they start…clutching at you, trying to drag you down," Elanee murmured when Isaviel reached her side, though the Moon Elf knelt to ruffle Karnwyr's fur when the wolf prowled up to her, snarling a little at the druid.
"It would seem Karnwyr is of one mind with you – and like the others, I think he is none too fond of you for bringing us here," Isaviel pointed out.
Rubbing at the burning scar on her chest, she looked into the dark forest, down the sheltered rise upon which they camped and winced when her fingertips came away covered in blood. She cared not when Elanee gave a long-suffering sigh at her words – she was in pain, and they were all less than enamoured with the proximity to the Claimed Lands.
From here one could make out the fog cloaking the Mere, giving only the faintest glimpses of frozen pools and frost-covered marshland when it parted just a little. Isaviel could just make out the stone bridges of the High Road as it passed around this marshy borderland, built on stilts over the sodden black ground. The Mere and its foul smelling smog stretched on for miles, and it was just the beginning of its western curve which was visible to the Moon Elf.
"Forgive me for the inconvenience," Elanee responded with sarcasm so poisonous it was beginning to border on vocalised resentment, "But they are near," a small frown appeared on her face as she stared ahead, "But I do not understand how they can live so close to such horror. Perhaps it is as Aldanon said, and they are safer here than they would be escaping; trapped within the Claimed Lands."
"As nice as I'm sure that is for your druids, it seems rather…inconvenient for us," Isaviel sighed, standing again when Karnwyr slunk back amongst the trees – a cursory glance over her shoulder showed that Bishop was just returning from a rather unsuccessful hunt, with just one rabbit dangling from his gloved fist to feed them all, "I hope your Circle will prove amenable to the region's need. Or else this was in vain."
"Your threats are idle to me, Isaviel Farlong," Elanee responded curtly, staring ahead unwaveringly, a hurt expression on her face when the Moon Elf looked back at her from Bishop, who was grunting orders at Grobnar to help prepare the rabbit, "I have suffered insult, degradation and unfairness from almost every member of your band," her large eyes were swimming with tears when she looked back at Isaviel, looking so young and frail in the dim firelight, and her words poured out quickly, "I am kept at a distance by my own Circle because I am not an Elf, though they chose to take me in as a child and I know no other home. I have suffered the cruelties of the likes of Bishop, Qara and Neeshka – as well as you."
Isaviel was more than a little taken aback by the young woman's sudden ferocity – it was as if Elanee had been keeping all of these complaints locked as firmly within her attempts at a calm demeanour as she could. Now her youth shone through, as did her frustration and her anger. Ironically, Isaviel found this incarnation of her druid companion far less tiresome than its predecessor, even as Elanee continued.
"None of you have ever cared what I have to say, but I have only ever tried to help you! And your father agreed with the Circle that I would be best to travel with you, but I have never understood why. You have never once considered or asked for my opinion," the druid gestured wildly at their friends sat by the fire, while Isaviel just watched her coolly, arms folded over her chest, "You would probably listen to Grobnar and the Dwarf with more sincerity than you would listen to me! Though I am no older than Qara, you treat me like I should accept your cruelties and slights, where you dole none out to her."
"That's because you can't burn us into ash with a click of your twiglet-fingers, druid," Bishop grunted from the fire, reminding Elanee that her raving had been audible to all of them, "And in case you hadn't noticed when you were cowering behind Isaviel's pet wizard at Haven, it was the little sorcerer princess who I fired my arrows at, not you. You wouldn't be worth the fletching I make myself."
"Bishop!" Isaviel snarled when Elanee flung her hands up, "Shut up."
"Yeah, ranger," Khelgar butted in now, meeting Bishop's cold glare with his own fiery fury, "She mighta just insulted me and the Gnome here…"
"Oh, no need to worry about me, good Dwarf!" Grobnar chirped in, and Bishop looked highly likely to bury his skinning knife in the Gnome's neck from where he sat beside the ranger.
"….that's not the point, ye damned Gnome," Khelgar growled, gesturing at Elanee and meeting Bishop's look again, "We need all the help we can get in this war! And we…mighta…probably…we have all been a bit too…harsh on the lass. I think we owe 'er an apology at least."
Isaviel blinked at the Dwarf in surprise as he looked at her with a conciliatory expression. She had never expected Khelgar Ironfist to play at being peacemaker. Maybe the monks really were getting through to him – and that was something which she found more than a little unsettling.
But Bishop stood suddenly before any more words could be spoken, Karnwyr coming to heel by his side and snarling now too. His eyes seemed to burn with rage in the firelight as they settled upon Elanee with anything but apology in mind.
"And how do you plan to make me do that, Dwarf?" the ranger snarled, not looking away from Elanee, "The druid already hates your guts, just like all the rest of our righteous Captain's merry band of fools. And nothing you say – no pathetic little words now, when she's so close to her home – will make that right."
"But it seems to me that you are only exacerbating the issue, Sir Bishop…" Grobnar began innocently, only to quail away from the ranger's clenched fist.
"Bishop, this isn't worth it," Isaviel groaned, approaching the others now even as he turned on her, stalking towards her with his wolf in tow, "Just…let it go. He didn't say you have to apologise," and by the gods she hoped Khelgar caught on to her bluff! Luckily, he seemed to, for he did not speak in disagreement.
"You think you can order me around now, 'Knight-Captain'?" Bishop snarled, leaning closer menacingly, in spite of Khelgar's growled warnings, "Well let me remind you…that won't work. I don't follow orders, and I don't listen to any man – or woman, Elf or not – telling me what to do. I go where I want, kill who I want, do what I want. And by the Hells anyone who gets in my way better know how to run."
With that raging declaration he stood straight and pushed past Isaviel, forcing her to stumble out of the way when she refused to move for him. Tellingly, Karnwyr lingered by the Moon Elf, whining, looking up at her with atypically compassionate yellow eyes before trotting after his master, who paused at the edge of their little clearing, looking back over his shoulder.
"Consider yourself warned, Captain. Next time might be that you find a dagger in your throat instead."
"Just try it, ranger," Isaviel snarled right back, rage bubbling up inside her to burn hot on her skin, "Just try it…and you will regret it."
She did not realise her double meaning until the words left her mouth, but he certainly comprehended them quick enough, pausing once with a frustrated growl before vanishing into the darkness. Should he succeed – he would regret it, for she knew that on some level he did care for her, and should she succeed…she would ensure he would suffered for his attempt. Love did not come into revenge, she realised. Not for the avenger.
"Are you going to blame me for that, as well?" Elanee demanded unhelpfully as she finally joined them by the campfire, suddenly sounding undeniably like a teenage girl, dropping down to sit on her bedroll.
"Have a little gratitude, Elanee," Isaviel sighed, helping Grobnar as the Gnome continued to try to skin the rabbit for their dinner, "And next time the ranger treats you like that, just stab him in the throat for me. It'll save us all a lot of trouble, and a lot of aggravation."
Khelgar snorted, stamping his booted feet against the frozen ground and warming his hands by the fire, nudging the druid in the ribs and winking at her with a self-conscious smile as if he was trying to make up for the months of torment their other companions had given her.
"The Captain's joking, lass," he pointed out, which drew a little wry smile from Isaviel – she had not been joking, not really, "Although I think I'd enjoy givin' the ranger a piece o' me mind every now and again. Or a piece o' me fist…most o' th' time."
"If it is any consolation, Lady Elanee," Grobnar put in now while Isaviel positioned the rabbit onto their makeshift spit over the fire, "Many of our companions have often acted similarly with me."
Elanee did at least have the grace to look a little guilty upon hearing those words, but frustration still flickered over her face. Watching the young druid, and the way she recoiled from Grobnar's smiles as much as she did from his love songs, Isaviel could not help but feel a little less sympathy for the girl. Qara and Bishop did make her life difficult, and Neeshka did not help much either, but Shandra and Casavir had always made an effort to be kind, just as Khelgar was doing now. Grobnar's infatuation with the druid was harmless, if worth a few cringes, and he was too thoughtful to be overbearing.
As for Bishop, he had been looking for a reason to blow up over something petty since the moment they left the keep, and it surprised Isaviel that he had waited five days. She made a point of leaving some of the food they prepared out for him, not out of the kindness of her heart but because she needed him on her side when they entered the Mere. Gods knew what lurked in there, and though she could not admit it to the others, she was far from in her best health.
Isaviel was utterly unsurprised when Bishop returned from the woods in time to relieve her of watch, snatching the bowl of cold meat and hard bread from her hand with a grunt and not meeting her eye, shoving her roughly towards her bedroll as he sat down. But he had come back, and he had not threatened her for real yet. Furthermore, when she lay down to sleep Karnwyr curled up beside her, lending her his warmth against the bitter cold. That was the closest Bishop ever came to reconciliation, and it would have to do.
Khelgar awoke the Moon Elf a few hours after midnight when the fire was burning low during his watch, shaking her awake, his small, dark eyes more than a little worried. Grobnar was already sitting up, rubbing at his eyes blearily, while Bishop was prowling the southern edge of the clearing.
"What's happening?" Isaviel demanded of Khelgar, unable to hide her wince as she sat up.
"The dr…Elanee…she's gone," the Dwarf explained.
"Gone…where?" the Moon Elf demanded in sleep-enforced bafflement, glancing over to the now-empty spot where the druid had been lying.
"Back to 'er Circle I'd reckon – must've been waitin' 'til I looked away and made a run for it, straight south," Khelgar responded while Isaviel started gathering her things, already wrapped in her cloak.
"And we need to follow her before she brings the wrath of her Circle friends down on us when we least expect them," Bishop put in now, and the urgency in his voice was rather more cynical than it had been in Khelgar's.
"Sir Bishop is right," Grobnar nodded, scrambling to strap his bedroll onto his pack while Isaviel stood, having been more economical with her time, "We must follow the Lady Elanee – she could be in grave danger!"
"As much as I wish that's what 'e meant, Gnome, that's not what 'e meant," Khelgar sighed as he picked up the bard's bow for him, pressing it into Grobnar's hands once the Gnome had shouldered his pack and given up attempting to disentangle his thick cloak from its straps.
"The girl has left some nice tracks for us to follow, and doesn't even have half an hour on us," Bishop explained, moving swiftly over to the fire once he noticed the others were up, as if he intended to stamp out the trace of their camp, "We won't reach her before she gets into the Mere, though, and from there we'll be relying on the ranging skills your good-old daddy taught you, Captain."
"No, wait," Isaviel told him, and the ranger looked up at her with murderous eyes until she continued, gesturing at the fire and holding his glare with a grimmer one of her own, "If someone comes looking for us…"
"…like little miss snivelling bitch and her band of rabid druids," Bishop pointed out sourly, but it sounded as if he was catching on to her idea.
"…then they might think that we've not noticed yet, and are all still here, sleeping prettily at the camp."
The Moon Elf fluttered her eyelids at him mockingly, resting her hand on her sword hilt pointedly when the ranger continued to glare at her. Lord Halueth Never's blade felt lighter than a kukri in her grasp, and something about its balance, or perhaps its enchantment, meant that she took to swordplay with it like a natural. Bishop had learned that the hard way, and she knew he understood her threat.
"Just keep trying me, Isaviel," the ranger snarled, turning to keep his stare upon her as she stalked past the rest of them, looking into the dark trees.
"You try me, Bishop," she suggested softly, every angry word he spoke like a shard of ice chilling her heart – this was not the time. She did not have the time, "As soon as we've found Elanee. Maybe I'll offer you up to the druids for some sacrifice to whatever gods have twisted them so."
That drew a sardonic laugh from Bishop, and grating as it was, at least it was better than a dagger in the back. Understanding that victory for what it was, Isaviel smirked into the darkness ahead, her eyes shifting to swirling grey as she peered at the night-time world with intent. Yes, she could see the press of earth there, the broken twig further on, just there…Elanee had left them a path to follow quite deliberately. Seeing this, and feeling the choking chill in the air, as well as the way her scar throbbed and seemed to twist with pain, Isaviel found herself agreeing more with Grobnar's intent than Bishop's. Elanee might be angry with them, resent them, and wish she had some friends rather than callous companions, but she was not hateful, not like the ranger, not like Isaviel herself. She would not lead them to an ambush knowingly, and she certainly would not suspect of her Circle what Isaviel already did.
"Ye're certain that they've changed for the worse, lass?" Khelgar inquired from behind as Bishop brushed past Isaviel, brandishing a burning branch as a makeshift torch, not one to be led.
"The Circle? Oh, they must have done to survive in the swamp now," the Moon Elf nodded, beginning to move ahead at Bishop's immediately swift pace, expecting their two shorter-legged companions to keep up, "The Mere shouldn't be this cold, even so far into winter," she warned, "Daeghun always told me that the Circle kept the balance here, but it looks to me as though they've failed at last."
"Then we should hurry indeed!" Grobnar cried from behind her, his voice wobbling with every stumbling step as they descended the hill towards the High Road and the grey, seething mass which Isaviel had once known as Meredelain, the Slow-Marching Court.
The sun should have been beginning to dawn when Elanee came to a halt on the edge of a large clearing in the gloom of the Mere. In this place, beyond the crowds of dead trees and the mud which had become black, foul-smelling slime, the air seemed to clear a little. She could see a hint of shifting dark clouds over her head, rather than struggling to see the next pool of stagnant water with nothing but grey smog around her. The grass here looked a little greener, and she could breathe without coughing against the smell of death. There was even a living tree, incongruously an old oak, at the centre of this glade, its leaves turning red as if at the onset of autumn, the bark of its impressively broad trunk gnarled. Seeing that tree, the young druid understood.
This had to be the place wherein the Circle dwelt, and Elanee did not hide her smile of relief at the realisation, waiting patiently for her Elders to appear as they surely would. She was home at last! It had not been too trying to follow the signs, just as she had left her own for Isaviel and the others. As much as Bishop and the Moon Elf's other cronies aggrieved her, she still could not abandon the thought of the threat posed by the King of Shadows. Whether she, or anyone else, liked it or not, Isaviel Farlong was the only person who could wield the Githyanki sword to kill that great foe who had thrown his evil cloak over the Mere. Well, unless someone killed her and tore out the shard – and even then, would it be that simple? Ammon Jerro had implied that there was more power than there should have been to the shards when Isaviel held them. But perhaps he was just looking to join her band of cronies, too.
"You have returned," a familiar, cool voice sounded from somewhere not far away, and Elanee blinked in surprise despite herself, looking around the open area to see several cloaked figures stepping out from the fog.
"Yes, Vashne," she smiled, her voice ringing with her gladness, "And I am so happy to be with you all once again."
"You bring a great evil with you," the speaker continued, coming more plainly into view as he and his five companions formed up in a semi-circle between Elanee and the great tree.
Vashne had always been haughty and downright cold with Elanee from her earliest memories. Small and lean even for a Wild Elf, his face was pinched and narrow, paler than she had ever known it. Seeing how he led this group, a little of Elanee's relief began to trickle away, like a thread unravelling from her heart. She could not be sure from this distance, but it looked like Vashne's eyes were bloodshot, the veins on his temples standing out red and green where they should have been blue. She did not know many of the others – these were the Elders, after all, the only solid feature of the far-ranging druid 'community' in the Mere but also the leading body. She had been brought up by two kinder Elders, and she saw neither Naevan's face nor Kaleil's looking back at her. Instead, those she did see staring back at her were thin and unhealthy looking, wan and angry, withered in a way that Elves such as them never should be, not until they reached the turn of old age.
"Not only do you travel with evil, but you dare to bring it here," Vashne continued, his voice rising a little when Elanee failed to respond, gawping at him in fearful confusion, "And you come to us speaking of gladness? The lands of the humans have changed you, as I knew they would. It is in your soul to be as one of them. Petty, transient, childish. Human."
"F-forgive me, Elders, but I do not understand," Elanee responded shakily, a shiver going up her spine as she saw their staring, gaunt faces, "I know I should have come to you sooner, but it has not been possible."
"You have always leaned towards civilisation, rather than the betterment of our work here," Vashne continued is if she had never spoken, his eyes flickering to the trees behind the young woman, "You never could keep yourself away from the humans in West Harbour after Daeghun came to your…minders, Naevan and Kaleil. So you watched, and you could not keep your eyes away from the human settlement. Weeks turned into months…and on your obsession went."
"I-I was only acting by what my Elders told me…by what you, the Circle told me to do!" Elanee protested, backing up now, feeling how wrong this was.
The air might be less foul, the sky might be clearer, but these people who she had once looked up to were changed. Cold, calculating, cruel. As soon as she realised this, she saw the truth as well; a glance at the druids' bare hands, the cheek of one under his hood…patches of dark mould grew on their pallid skin, a corruption of their role within nature, of their souls which had once protected it. The blood was rushing in Elanee's ears, her heart pounding hard, finding herself in a nightmare. This was not home. This was a part of the Claimed Lands of the King of Shadows. Nothing could survive here. Not without…certain compromises.
"There is something wrong," Elanee gasped at last, and Vashne tilted his head in pitying curiosity, "You have been corrupted by the evil in this place!"
"Even now you attempt to turn the blame onto us, your Elders, because you are too blind to see the corruption which has followed you here."
The Elder druid's eyes fixed once more upon the treeline behind Elanee, an angry expression settling upon his face. He did not say more, but waited patiently, as did the other Elders – all of them pale, diseased, once proud Elvish druids.
"I told ye, we never shoulda come here, lass."
"Khelgar! Shh!"
"Lady Elanee! Are you well?"
"Grobnar!"
Elanee had never expected those familiar voices to sound so welcome. Turning around she saw Isaviel stepping into the glade cautiously, her hands on the hilts of her blades – the sword of Halueth Never, and the dagger she had picked up before leaving the keep. As she stepped into the bright light, the Moon Elf's eyes flickered to their usual gold – or, as Elanee had oft preferred to think of it, just a shade darker than poisonous yellow. Her expression was even harder and more hunted than usual, and she looked even paler and more drawn than she had at the camp. Sweat glistened on her brow, the few strands of deep blue hair hanging free from her braid were soaked, and there was a faint bloodstain beginning to spread on the chest of her grey wool tunic.
Grobnar and Khelgar had obviously paused a moment behind Isaviel, and only came blundering out into the open when their leader stopped, taking in the scene slowly before settling hard eyes upon Elanee. Bishop came last, lingering amongst the trees with his bow in his hands and his wolf at his heels, Karnwyr's yellow eyes staring at Elanee with a look that the druid understood to be not just baleful, as the humans would have termed it, but also accusing. Indeed, only Grobnar offered her a smile, while Isaviel and Khelgar eyed her with similar combinations of doubt and disappointment. Bishop did not spare her a glance at all, glaring straight at the Elders gathered behind her.
"These twisted creatures are your Elders?" Isaviel demanded, stepping forward now, nodding towards Vashne and the others, "Have you dragged us out here, running from us as if we are your enemies, to bring us to them?"
"I left you a trail…I didn't want to…" bring you to them without warning them first. They are not used to outsiders. But how could she tell Isaviel that, especially in front of the Elders?
In response to Elanee's hesitation, Isaviel turned her glance towards Vashne, stepping past the young woman to face them fully. Elanee understood that they would not take well to this – especially in their current state. Isaviel might have been the honorary daughter of Daeghun Farlong, one whom they had long held in great regard, and she might possess some of the ranging skills he had, but she was still an outsider in their eyes. They saw her as someone who dwelt in civilisation and could not understand the needs of nature.
"You had Elanee spy on West Harbour for months?" the Moon Elf hissed to the Elder, evidently having overheard at least some of the previous conversation.
"No, we did not," Vashne shook his head, "Daeghun Farlong arranged that duty only with her minders. The Circle did not agree on the matter. The task we gave her was to watch the shard, to ensure that its evil was removed from our lands, never to return," his voice grew colder still, his bloodshot eyes boring into Isaviel's own unrelenting stare, "But you have brought it back…brought that shard and more of its kind back to our precious Meredelain…"
"Elders, please," Elanee implored, "Can you not see that this is necessary? Do you not see the corruption that has already spread? We need your help…and you need ours. To cleanse the land of the influence of the King of Shadows. To save thousands of lives! If you do nothing, and if we fail, you will die without upholding the tenets of our Circle. How can you not want to side with us, when we fight to save the land from this taint?"
"You would pass blame to us even now?" Vashne's lips curled into a disdainful sneer as Isaviel turned to look at Elanee in surprise, "You might as well be one of the Harbourmen and have shared their fate. Can you feel it on the air?" he spread his arms, looking about himself as if exulting in the creeping horror of the corruption in the Mere, "A great storm is coming. It will rage across the land and scour clear the corruption of Neverwinter, of Luskan…of all of civilisation."
"I say we leave these fools to keep on rotting here," Bishop snarled now, "And leave the little girl to her fate. There's nothing for us here, Isaviel."
"Ah, yes," Vashne smiled at the sound of the Moon Elf's name, "So it is you who carries the shards. And something else, something…worse. A taint, a curse. Pushing aside your own soul," he drew himself up suddenly, eyes blazing with malice, "One such as you should be buried beneath the earth, the one place that will hold off your evil. A mercy, I say, to kill you. The taint is so strong in you…you truly are a monster, Isaviel Farlong."
"This is madness," Khelgar grunted, and Elanee closed her eyes at the sound of him hefting his axe, "Ye hurt the lass, and I'll hurt ye right back."
"If you deny us aid, you are forsaking everything in this region," Isaviel gritted out at last, her back to her friends, and to Elanee's observation it looked like she was swaying on her feet, struggling to stand, "Not just cities and towns. The King of Shadows ignores you now because you persist in this foolish fantasy that I am your enemy. The shards you so hate are the only hope you have. The taint…is incidental."
"You would not say so if you were to survive your war," Vashne sighed, glancing at his silent companions, "Have you not wondered why your taint has grown stronger? I sense it, even if you do not."
"How can you say that when you stand before me, rotting, mouldering before my eyes?" Isaviel scoffed, gesturing to Vashne's mould-covered hands, "I say you are corrupted. You are being claimed by the King of Shadows, an inch of skin at a time. And you are too mad to realise it."
"I would not expect a city dweller to understand," Vashne shook his head, holding up a hand sharply to silence Elanee when she began to protest, her heart pounding in fear of this conversation's more likely outcome, "We must change with the land. It is the way of the Circle. As for you, Elanee, your friend may never see as we do but you still can. Come back to us, and help us weather the storm to its completion."
"I…" Elanee's response stuck in the throat, and her thoughts whirled in panic.
What could she do? Staring in horror, she saw the silent Elders morph into their animal forms; two bears, two leopards, a wolf. These were forms of such potency, that she had always longed to achieve. All of her childhood had been spent idolising this Circle, which now menaced the only person she knew to be capable of stopping the corruption of the King of Shadows.
There was…nothing she could do. She had no real love for Isaviel, and though Khelgar had not been unkind to her, Qara, Bishop and Neeshka had. Shandra, when she had been alive, had been kind to her, but that had only hurt worse, to have her caring and to see her with Casavir. The paladin shone like the sun to the young druid, as beautiful and honourable as anyone Elanee could have known, and he had never been cruel, only ever tried to keep her safe, as he protected all of them. But he barely saw her. And there had been horror in his eyes when she had professed her love for him.
Suddenly, Elanee believed she saw the truth. She was not one of Isaviel's band, she was the only one among several who had nothing to tie her there at the keep. No one cared for her, and the one she cared for had eyes for others, never her. The rest of them had multiple friendships or alliances or duties. Elanee had…nothing. But she understood that Isaviel's role had to be fulfilled, and that no one else could do it. The conflict could well destroy her…how much easier to avoid it altogether?
"I…I cannot fight you, Elders," the young druid admitted at last, bowing her head, and letting her tears fall, knowing Isaviel had turned to glare at her, both her blades ringing free from their scabbards, "But I cannot fight you either, Isaviel."
"You would watch and wait to see who wins?" Isaviel spat at her feet, and as her rage coursed through her, those golden eyes flashed with red light, "Coward. Rot here."
"I am sorry," Elanee admitted softly.
"Very well," Vashne sighed, gesturing to his companions, "Let us expunge this threat. And when it is over, we will have words, Elanee."
"I hope we do not, Elder," the druid told him firmly, "I cannot fight you, but I know that you are wrong. Everything about you is wrong."
"Then you will join your minders in the earth. We buried Kaleil and Naevan not two tendays past. I will…perhaps…allow your body to rest with theirs."
"You have become a monster," Elanee shook her head, her voice breaking, refusing to believe his cruel words. She would not believe him! But she had no more time, forced to leap out of the way as battle exploded around her, and Vashne just stood watching them, his false smile dropping, his face a dead mask.
The pain in her chest was almost indescribable. When Elanee had proved just how fickle she really was, Isaviel had felt the presence trapped beneath the lodged shard twist inside her. It had been all she could do to keep standing, to draw her weapons and fling herself away from the leopard that pounced for her. The wolf was prowling around her, too, while one bear charged for Khelgar, and Grobnar managed to catch the leopard that ran for him with a few arrows, stalling it while he stumbled backward. Bishop had already caught the bear coming his way with three arrows; he had two more nocked and ready.
Lord Halueth Never's wondrous blade sang in the thick, choking air, gleaming blue as Isaviel swept it across in front of her, twirling about to avoid the deftly angled swipes of the leopard's heavy paws. A shrieking sounded as the impossibly sharp blade connected with several of the polymorphed druid's claws, shearing them. The leopard roared and leapt back, only for the wolf to pounce…and for Karnwyr to intercept its path, his jaws closing around its throat, and the pair rolled away across the clearing.
"Lass!" Khelgar cried, but it was too late.
Vashne had known they would be too preoccupied with the more immediate threat of the other Elders, and now performed a precise feat of druidic magic. One of the branches of the great oak behind him had stretched and morphed to his will, and now it lunged for the beleaguered Moon Elf, closing around her throat and raising her a little from the ground. Dropping her weapons she clawed uselessly at the branch, blood rushing in her ears, pain pouring through her chest even as the skin of her neck burned and she wheezed and wheezed…and eventually could not breath in at all.
Bishop growled a curse, and faintly she heard the hum of his magical bow, followed by a dull thud as the bear attacking him dropped to the earth dead. Khelgar roared in his desperate rage and made a rush for the bear, using his axe now because his monk training was still in its early stages. A little smile came to Isaviel's face as the strength to fight suddenly became impossible and the choking hold eased just a little, to taunt her, to make her understand the swift death to come. Watching Khelgar, she smiled because she had felt the hum of psionic energy powering his great arcing swipe, allowing his axe the force to kill his morphed opponent in one great strike. Now he wheeled on the leopard blocking his way to Isaviel, the one that had been heading for Grobnar. The Gnome was singing some obscure battle song a little frantically, and his arrows swooped for his agile foe as quickly as he could shoot them.
Vashne, clearly augmented with some magical speed, dodged Bishop's arrows, but when the second leopard, which had first attacked Isaviel, leapt for him, one carefully aimed arrow killed the druid who wore that animal shape.
It warmed the chill in Isaviel's heart a little to see the ranger fighting for her like that. He did not have to do that. He could have used this fight as an opportunity to escape the obligation she clearly posed for him. But instead he threw down his bow in rage when Vashne continued to evade him and drew his long sword, coming for the druid. The Wild Elf did not look perturbed, but rather turned his eyes up at Isaviel and smiled.
The branch which held the Moon Elf tightened suddenly, blocking off all air to her lungs. Panic took over from her senses and she felt her arms and legs kicking convulsively, her diaphragm spasming against her will. The world began to grow dark as she heard a young woman scream in denial at last. She might have smiled, had she not been dying. Elanee had taken her side, after all.
At the last moment, Bishop had re-angled his charge, seeing Isaviel's form slump and go still in the grasp of the tree. Cursing some more, he had reached for Isaviel's dropped longsword and skidded in the sodden earth, away from Vashne and towards the Moon Elf. It was seeing this, understanding the ranger's intent and seeing Isaviel shudder and go still, that had changed Elanee's mind. There was nothing left of the Circle she had known.
So Elanee ran with a scream to face Vashne, her sickle aimed for his rotten heart. But as Bishop swung Lord Halueth Never's sword, relying on its mighty enchantments to cut through the warped branch holding his lover, the leader of the Circle caught Elanee's wrist and plucked the sickle from her grasp as if it were nothing. She watched his eyes and fought his grip, clawing at his face, his neck, his arm with her free hand, but it did no good. Still she fought, and hated, understanding that she could save her companions, those who she did not love but who she would not see die, even if she could not kill the traitorous Vashne as well.
"I have upheld what you could not," she smiled as Vashne angled her own sickle for her heart, and though she cried out as he buried its sharpened tip into her chest, she forced herself to smile again and keep looking into his mouldering, bloodshot eyes, satisfied by the doubt she saw flickering through their mad depths, "I have allowed you to die, and saved Nature."
He dropped her callously to the ground, his glance flickering with momentary pain towards the last leopard, breathing its final breaths at Khelgar's feet, morphing slowly back to an Elvish man. Elanee watched, coughing against the blood she tasted, unable to gasp at the pain of her landing on the ground. She squeezed Grobnar's little shaking hand when he grasped hers, crying out in horror. No, she would never love these people, who had failed to accept her, but there was hope with them, where there was none elsewhere.
As the everlasting veil of death came for her, Elanee saw with satisfaction how Vashne had turned a moment too late, allowing Bishop to drive his knife into the druid's heart and twist it brutally, watching him until the last before kicking his body to the ground. It was a horrible way to die, and Elanee would not wish it on anyone. But it brought about the end of the corrupted Circle, and that was the right thing. Wishing she could sigh, she turned to see Isaviel – or rather, when her strength fled, and her cheek fell to the earth, she watched the Moon Elf gasping for new, life-saving air. Shedding one more tear, for the relief of hope for Nature, for the grief to die so young, unloved, Elanee took her last breath.