Section Six: Mage's Challenge
By early evening, the group had reached the forest.
"I agree with the mayor of that town." Katt remarked, looking around. "We should not be here."
The entire forest was shrouded with a darkness that not even lamps and torches seemed to penetrate. The footsteps of their horses were muffled, and trails of fog curled over the ground. Even the trees seemed to be affected; they rattled dead and dying leaves overhead.
Fox sighed and urged his horse forward. In this dark place, his very party glowed a bit against the wrongness of this place. Something was happening here; he felt it in the air, it grated against his skin and very soul. What he wasn't sure of, though.
"How far have we to go?" Peppy inquired.
"In this forest? A day to two days travel." Fox replied, looking at the map he carried. The others had noticed it tended to orient on where the party was, and was currently only showing the forest. "It depends on how fast we travel and if we run into any trouble."
The party had stopped next to a stream to water and rest their horses. Fox's mare snuffled at the water, then walked over and began to nudge Fox. He glanced at the others, then sighed. "All right, then. All right." He unbuckled all the tack the mare wore, and she turned and dove into the creek.
"What did you do that for?" Falco asked, surprised.
"Just watch." Fox sighed.
The mare rolled, plainly washing, then stood and shook off. Her brown color was mere beige in the darker spots, though there were streaks of brown still through her mane and tail. She glanced at Fox, tilting her head.
"Not quite." He replied.
She nodded with a snort and dove back into the water.
"That horse understands what you say?" Bill sputtered.
"Of course. She isn't exactly a horse." He replied tiredly.
The next time the mare emerged from the stream, she was blazing white in color, hooves, mane, and tail toned soft silver. She shook off and snorted, then walked back up to Fox, looking at the others. A small, spiral horn peeked out from the forelock of her mane.
"A… a… UNICORN?" Now Falco was sputtering.
"Yes." Fox pulled currycombs from his pack and set to work, brushing the mare dry. Fine steam rose from her; she was apparently drying herself as well. "I ended up with her as a steed when I was sixteen. Paladins can call a steed." He paused. "I wasn't exactly expecting a unicorn to show up the next day, patiently waiting for me to wake up. Surprised my father as well. He asked one of his Elven friends to disguise her as a normal horse. What you just witnessed was the rest of the spell wearing off."
Silence for a moment, then a demented smile spread over Falco's face.
"Er, Fox… Forgive me if I'm wrong, but isn't it supposed to be that only virgin women can ride or even handle unicorns?"
Katt tittered.
Fox actually laughed, long and loud, leaning on his unicorn and looking over his shoulder at the rest of the group, a grin plastered over his face. "That's why it's called a legend, Falco. And mostly, it's true… Mostly. Evil paladins sometimes ride black unicorns, so why can't a lawful one ride a white one?"
"Makes sense." Peppy raised his eyebrows at Fox. He couldn't remember the last time he had seen Fox smile like that. Fox had always been so somber; it was a real event that made him grin or laugh.
"We out to prove legend wrong or what?" Falco asked as the group mounted up.
"You never know." Said a voice from nowhere, as a group of dark-skinned elves, most lupine, dropped out of trees and surrounded the group.
Slippy glanced nervously around. He was sitting by a fire, under a 'tree house'. The rest of his group was elsewhere, where exactly he wasn't sure.
A trio of elves, dressed as archers, was watching him closely. There were runes carved all over the dark wood of their bows, and their clothes were rough and simple. Wood elves, Katt had hissed to the others before they had been split up. Not necessarily bad.
The evil pressed here too, but it was lighter, not as heavy and ominous. He nervously tapped his fingers together, and started drawing glyphs in the air to ward off evil.
"I wouldn't if I were you." Said one of the archers sharply.
He dropped his hand, waving it to dismiss the half-drawn glyphs that glowed in midair, taking a closer look at the three archers. Two lupine, one feline, all focused on him.
He took an idle moment why only he had been separated from the group. His race? Surely not. Because he was a magic user? It couldn't be that either; Katt was a Sorceress, and Fox and Peppy could also cast limited magic. Besides, he was, as far as Mages went, very weak. He often longed for something to amplify his power, but knew that was nearly impossible.
There didn't seem any logical reason for him to be waiting there, so he sat and watched the fire, mind wandering, trying to make sense of it all.
"Where's our last comrade?" Fox demanded, crossing his arms.
"Safe, don't worry." The leader of the Elven town, an older lupine, was standing only a few feet in front of him, arms also crossed. "Now why, exactly, were you in our territory?"
"Merely passing through. We paused to rest. Had you left us to our business, we would be gone by now."
"Perhaps. But we need your assistance."
Fox blinked and tilted his head slightly, trying to decipher what exactly the elf was thinking. "Really?" He asked, now speaking Elven.
"Really." The elf switched languages as he did, then switched back. "We've been in a bit of a territory war as of recent. Andross' press is well felt here. Perhaps you noticed?"
"We did the moment we entered this place."
"We've been feeling it a while, and some of the beings around it have taken Andross' beliefs to heart, unfortunately. We, however, are neutral beings, and side with good when needed." The elf rubbed his chin. "And we've got a problem, which we noticed your friend could help us with."
"Because he is a Mage? Most of us can use magic."
"Aye, but Mage, Sorceress, and Arcane archers/fighters are different things." He sighed, rubbing his eyes. "One of the nearby villages fell quickly to Andross' wiles, and they have in their possession one of our most valuable artifacts, locked into a cave. We need your comrade's help to retrieve it. One of our Seers tagged him the moment she saw him."
"I imagine he'd agree. But why separate him from us?"
"Because we wanted to see if he could sense the disturbance."
Slippy frowned and stood, staring off. Something was… wrong. More wrong then before. A gathering, a rumble-pulse, a silent thunder. It jarred off his magic senses, ringing in his mind and heart. But it wasn't evil, no. It was … misguided good?
He took a step toward it, head down and eyes closed, gesturing with one hand without noticing. The archers took a step back, gaze sharpening, watching him. They could feel the power flash off him, searching, trying to find the disturbance.
Death…
He jerked his head back, shaking it vigorously, seeing blood splatter from sacrifices, the King's men fall on the front lines of the battles, vicious dragons raining explosive fire onto the battlefield. The King, no matter how he denied it, was loosing the war.
Slippy could see the truth as bold as daylight.
Then he was suddenly on the ground kneeling, holding himself up, shaking off.
Familiar hands assisted him. His team, all looking at him with odd expressions—concerned, respectful, surrounded him. Respectful of… him? He had never been respected, even as a Mage! He wasn't even all that powerful.
"Will you help us?" An older elf was with them, and addressed him without preamble.
He stared off toward the silent thunder, gaze distant. "I don't think I have a choice."
"This is insane." Falco hissed, watching the elves warily.
"Perhaps." Slippy was pouring over tomes the elves had provided him with, almost completely focused on his task, nimble fingers flipping pages, signing to himself with one hand, training himself to new glyphs and gestures. "But if we can help prevent evil from spreading over the land, shouldn't we?"
"Indeed." Said Fox. He stood off to one side, watching this whole endeavor silently, sometimes talking to the head elf or his seconds in command. "We should do everything in our power to prevent it."
"What exactly do you have to get, anyway?" Bill asked. He had been practicing swordplay with a few of the Elven fighters, proving himself to be good and his competitors to be just as good.
"It's a staff." Said Peppy. "The Crest of the Hippogriff."
"I've heard of it." Katt said. "Magic mastery, isn't it?"
"Something like that. Neutral magic, mostly. Magic creature control is one of its fine points." Fox said.
"Magic creature… DRAGONS?" Falco gawped.
"Including those. I think it specializes toward winged creatures."
"That's what all these say." Said Slippy, standing. "Where does the rest of my team come in?" He asked the head elf.
The elf grinned. "I'm afraid the rest of us are going into battle."
"What?" Peppy gave the elf a sharp look. "You could have informed us earlier, we've had no time to prepare."
"That's how life usually works." The elf sighed. "In order to give him enough time to retrieve that artifact, we need to distract the tribe that holds it. They've fallen to evil, so we have to release their souls."
"In other words, kill them." Falco's voice took on an odd timbre, powerful and booming.
"Don't channel the spirit unless you need it." Fox told him sharply, startling him. "Otherwise it'll take you over."
"What? What'd I do?" Falco gave him a sorely confused look.
He sighed and rubbed his eyes. "When do we depart?"
"Now. Mount up. Slippy, one of my best guides will take you to the cave." And with that, the elf leapt, disappearing into the trees.
Slippy panted, running to catch up with the guide. The lady elf strode effortlessly along, seemingly unaware that while Slippy was strong because of blacksmithing, he had little stamina, and was soon left behind.
He leaned on a tree, wheezing, trying to catch his wind. The guide stopped and looked back at him, hair flying wildly around her face as she turned on her heel. Waiting impatiently.
"You're going to fast." He panted to her when she came closer.
"We have to." She said irritably. "We don't have much time."
He grunted, hefting himself upright and nodding once. She took off again, him following as fast as his lungs allowed, wondering wildly what the rest of the team was doing.
'Closer… closer … closer…' Peppy thought, lining up an arrow. With some help from the elves, he was perched in a tree, arrow notched. A brief mutter, and the arrow glowed slightly, then dulled, spell contained and waiting. He didn't need to glance down and around; he knew where his team was.
Yells came, and the advance scout of the tribe they were working with charged in, running as fast as they could. The fallen tribe had taken the bait, and were chasing after them at full speed, arrows flying after them. Peppy caught the dull glint of moonlight off Fox's unicorn's horn as she lowered her head, ready to charge. Fox had his hands on his swords, tense, ready. He was in tune, could hear Falco's heavy breathing almost directly under him, could sense Katt's gathering powers in the tree across from him.
'Closer, closer, closer…' He felt a tension gather, the whole group feeling it, ready and waiting.
'NOW!'
As Peppy loosed arrows onto the advance members of the fallen tribe, Fox's unicorn charged them head on, goring one with her horn as Fox pivoted and swung. Magic bolts rained down as Bill and Falco leapt into the fray, and suddenly the advance members of the fallen tribe were no more.
Falco managed a half grin and stepped back into the foliage, sword sheathed and waiting. Bill did the same, hiding as best he could. Fox stayed in the clearing; he could tell that the fallen tribe had read a declaration of war into the assault, and could hear heavy mounted soldiers coming.
"Ready." Fox said, voice low and rumbling. His unicorn lowered her head and pawed the ground, eager for more action, blood dripping off her horn.
"Ready." Falco said, the dragon's boom coming into his voice again.
"Ready." Bill said, voice severe and military.
"Ready." Katt said, higher and lighter then the rest.
"Ready." Peppy finished, lining up more arrows, growling again to recast spells.
The front line of the full-out charge hit them. This was how Fox knew that they were corrupt. These weren't the right tactics, this was Andross pressuring them, influencing them. If there were any coming through the trees, they were intercepted by the tribe they were working with. It seemed what was on the ground was their problem, he mused as he swordfought on horseback, his unicorn screaming challenge at the black steeds of the riders. But he didn't like death without a cause.
He just prayed this distraction was going as planned.
Slippy muffled a yelp as he fell down the hole, suddenly sitting on a cold stone floor and staring up at a hole in the top of a small cavern. His guide dropped down moments later, falling to a crouch.
Pain passed over her face. "I'm not supposed to be here." She managed to him. "Follow the corridor. You'll find what you need." Then she leapt, catching the edge of the hole and hauling herself out.
Slippy cast light spells quickly, then as many spells to ward off evil as he could think off, then proceeded forward, looking around. The corridor was long, carvings worn to the point of incoherency long ago. It was cold, cold enough to see his breath, all warmth pressed out of this place by something else.
Misguided good?
He continued forward, the circle of his lights growing smaller, keeping spells ready in his mind, some of them he wasn't even sure if he could cast. As he progressed, the carvings grew clearer, until they looked brand new. None of them were good or right, not now. He saw they had been altered to serve dark purposes; Andross' mark was strong here.
Finally he reached the end of the corridor, pressing the doors open and entering a chamber. It looked like a church, but one long deserted, and sitting at the podium was a carved ebony staff, set with jewels.
He made his way forward, feeling the magic press even more, but tried to ignore the darkness, shaking it off.
"Why are you here?!" Demanded a voice, and a small form came out of nowhere. He staggered back as the small form hit him, using its momentum to try to knock him down. "Go AWAY!"
He found himself staring down at a small child with filthy clothing and black, wild eyes. The child stared up at him defiantly, making a quick gesture.
"GO AWAY!"
Slippy yelped as the already worn stone wall that was at the back of the underground church crashed in, a bone dragon bearing down on him. He mindlessly cast spells, until finally a 'destroy undead' spell sent the skeletal dragon crashing around him, smashing several pews and somehow managing not to harm him and the child.
"Uncle Andross said he needed this!" The child threw a fit, protecting the staff, magic far too great for his age flaring off him. "You can't have it!"
Misguided good.
Slippy blocked the spells, taking the child under one arm and restraining him with magic ropes, picking up the staff slowly. Magic jolted him, but he brushed it off. It was cold, seductive magic. The staff was corrupted. He set his jaw and left the evil church, still carrying the child.
His guide pulled the child up, then him. The little boy sat on the ground and sobbed as they studied the staff, then, before they could stop him, pulled a knife and killed himself.
His guide wordlessly gathered the small body in her arms, tears gathering in her eyes, but not flowing. "Andross must pay for this." She whispered. "Using… children…"
Slippy couldn't agree more, still carrying the staff as they went to the source of the battle cries.
Death.
He was jolted again by visions of the battles, staggering and leaning against a tree, tightening his grip on the staff. He staggered forward, and fell, feeling the impact of the fall and seeing red wash over his vision, blinking blood from his eyes as he still clutched the corrupted staff. His guide set the body down and knelt beside him, asking questions he couldn't answer, hands full of glowing magic.
Use me.
He looked blindly at the staff. It whispered to him, calling to him. No wonder that little boy had felt it, he had been a natural magic user, and susceptible to it. Now he was. What was going on?
Use me.
He slowly stood, using the staff to prop himself up, blinking the last of the blood from his eyes, shaking. His guide said something to him, but he was listening to ancient voices, and muttered at her in the same language: go away, I'm trying to think. She blanched, clearly not understanding, then realization dawned on her face, and she tried to take the staff.
NO!
He pulled it back from her and began to run toward the battlefield, holding the staff above his head. Magic gathered in visible spirals around the head of it, pulsing, calling.
He landed right in the middle of the fray, stood, and held it the sky.
A green dragon came out of nowhere, bearing down on the battle and opening its mouth. Superheated steam and a touch of fire wounded and killed the fallen tribe, damaged trees, soaked the ground.
The dragon turned and gained altitude, now going for the fallen tribe's village.
Slippy stood there numbly, hearing only the shout of power, the seduction of evil and death, the yell of ancient voices… then saw Fox looking at him.
That look…
He screeched and threw the staff away, like it burned him. No! He shook off his hands, going into a state of trance, purging himself of the evil taint as best he could. When he came back to reality, he was standing in the middle of the clearing. The forest was silent, the staff still laying on the ground, everyone looking at him.
"It's corrupted." He said, voice chill.
"Aye. We saw." Said the elf.
"And you fought the corruption." Fox dismounted, patting Slippy on the shoulder. "I suppose that's why you were the only one who could retrieve it. Only you could fight off the power."
"I guess so." Slippy looked at the staff, revolted, more determined then ever to turn the tide of battle. "Andross is winning."
"I know." Fox looked off toward the battlefield. "We move as soon as we are able." He looked at the elf. "Well, we upheld our side of the bargain. What's yours?"
"Our treaty." The elf handed Slippy a carved whistle. "If you ever need us in battle, blow on this. We'll be there."
"Thank you." Slippy said numbly, putting the cord around his neck.
"No thanks needed." The elf looked at the staff thoughtfully. "We have clerics that can purge this artifact. We thank you. You have our escort until the end of the forest. We know the safest ways."
Fox nodded his thanks as Slippy slowly mounted onto his horse, still shaking.
"You wanted to accept that power, didn't you?" Fox later asked. They had left the forest, now proceeding through hills into the mountains.
"Yes I did." Slippy replied, voice very calm.
"Why didn't you?"
He stared off into the distance, seeing the young boy's insane black eyes as he forced a knife into his own heart, and sighed. "It comes at too much of a price."
Fox looked satisfied. "Indeed it does. Indeed it does."