Inquiries indeed!

Straightway as soon as he departed the guest chambers, the mage betook himself to the upper tower, waiting impatiently outside the door to the council chamber. Presently the doors opened, and the Elders appeared with quiet decorum. Silence descended on the outer chamber, and though there were questions on many minds, none were voiced until the last member of the council had departed.

A chorus of voices arose, filling the air with a chaotic sound. Like waves upon the beach, the murmur rose and fell in volume, till at last the door shut out the sounds. Bertrand sighed in relief as he made his way to the private chambers of the wizard Varcanos.

The elder mage stood silent with his back to the door as Bertrand entered, bowing and shutting the door behind him. Patiently he waited to be acknowledged before speaking, both the bow and the silence marks of respect for the eldest mages of the tower. For a long time they stood thusly, until the older mage turned around, nodding to solitary man to be seated. Both took their seats on intricately carved wooden chairs bearing the forms of swans and trees.

"I know why it is that you have come." The flowing white beard moved as Varcanos spoke, and he smoothed it absently with a firm hand. "I know what it is that you wish to know."

"Know this then: The council has been requested to send help to the southern lands. A tiny hamlet, a village of none importance has requested our help, or rather, a simple knight has made fair to send so far for aid. And alas, will not receive it."

"A darkness grows upon us, and I fear that in the greater darkness and threat of the shadow world, we may miss the ghosts of the past that arise from their graves. I speak in mannerisms only here." Turning his head, he gazed upon the man labeled by some a renegade, and regarded him with an air of knowing. "However, it is said that an old sect of dark wizards is arisen again. The knight fears that they be beyond his strength. The messenger rides south in the morning, by the will of the council alone, and it shall be so. At least, until he crosses the border... if mayhap he has companions waiting, who can say?"

The old mage smiled beneath his beard, nodding to his listener. "Does this suffice?"

"Indeed. By your leave." Bertrand arose and bowed once more before departing the chambers. As his brightly colored robes disappeared from view, Varcanos arose and turned again to the wall. "Well, it has been done. Now come what may, at least we have done something, old friend."


It had been a forlorn farewell. To the last, the council had been courteous, but in no uncertain terms informed him that no help would be forthcoming in the near future. They had there own holdings to consider, and their ranks were already thinned from the last conflict. Of the crowds that seemed to throng about his person, the messenger wondered how many were simply apprentices, and how many skilled mages.

He had ridden alone to the border of the Tower's holdings, and it was there that the other rider joined him. Lost in the failure of his mission, the lad had not acknowledged him until he spoke.

"Better a little help than none?"

Now Bertrand was beginning to regret his offer. Seldom did the mages leave the tower for any reason, and when it did chance to happen they were nearly always carried by wheeled conveyance. The horse that he was astride was steady, but even after a short while, Bertrand could feel the soreness that was about to plague the remainder of his journey...

In their rough camp that evening, the mage stared long and hard into the blaze as though seeking there the cause of all troubles. The messenger left him to his gazing, wary of bringing any adverse word from the caster of arcane magics; words seemed to carry a greater weight among those who wielded the primal forces of the world...

The days and nights passed almost too swiftly as they traveled down the lands, making for the relative shelter of the village of Tangeril. With the constant patrols by the knights stationed there, the lands surrounding were mostly free of incursions by renegades and demons. The lad stood tall in his stirrups as he held his gaze long over the road. It remained empty.

Seemingly upset by this fact, the boy turned to the wizard. "M'lord, the road feels not safe this even. Look to thyself should battle befall us. The road leads straight on into the village; if we be attacked, you at least must reach thence. T'is my sacred duty to see this thing done."

Bertrand nodded and resettled himself in the saddle. Hopefully the torture would end here, and if it be in battle, at least he could fire off a few fireballs before going down. The pair made hesitant journey onward, meeting no one betwixt that point and the entrance to the village. As they came in sight of the flimsy wooden stockade that surrounded the village, they were challenged by a small group of foot soldiers standing sentry.

"Halt! Who goes there?"

The boy stood tall in his stirrups and shouted back. "I am Sartos, a messenger of Undermane. I have been sent to the towers of the north to beg aid. My companion is Bertrand, the only mage bold enough to come to our aid in these times. Pray, give us shelter for this night and allow us to finish our mission tomorrow."

The sentry who had challenged them nodded. "Come ahead then, and be welcome." His fellows stepped back from the road and vanished into the trees on either side. The two horses stepped forward at the guidance of their riders, and the footman led them into the village proper. "Leave your horses here with me, and talk to the watch commander about lodgings for the night." He pointed to a small building beside the gate that had its door open.

Bertrand slid out of the saddle with a groan, using considerable willpower to avoid rubbing his backside. His guide slid down from his perch with much less trouble, and headed off towards the commander's office. The mage followed along, silently cursing the horse and the road.

The watch commander didn't take too much convincing to allow them a small space to lay down their bedrolls for the night. The foot soldier had put up their horses already by the time they returned outside. After sharing a greasy stew with some of the local militia, the two lay down in their assigned spaces. Having a watch at night was a very comforting thing.
Danil stood on watch this evening, commanding the small body of footmen that stood guard around the village. Duragon had drawn patrol with other comrades for the week. The cousins therefore saw very little of one another. What bothered the knight the most however, was the absence of his messenger. Surely the boy would have returned by now, even supposing he had to delay for a day or so to explain things to the mage tower.

Sudden worry creased his brow. Perhaps the lad had run into an enemy on the return trip, some demon or undead creature missed by the constant patrols. 'Perhaps...' His thoughts trailed off as he heard a challenge given to the darkness.

"Who goes?"

"We who trail the darkness have need of the light."

A torch blazed up then, and three figures moved into its radiance. Danil strode forward to see the newcomers. A look of surprise crossed his face as they reached the circle of light. His scouts had returned.

Moments later they sat across from him in the small hut that served as the command post for the village watch. The two female elves sat in silence as he digested the information that they had just provided him with. The fact that they were the ones giving him the information was quite startling in and of itself. Before this, the male had been his contact, seeing as he wasn't a full blooded elf. Relegated to serving as a go between for the elves and the humans placed him in a position only slightly higher than the humans he spoke to.

Of course, the mere fact that Thallien had been injured would speak for the fact that he was not involved in the conversation. It also gave weight to the tale that he had just heard, and gave him another tangent to worry over. Mages.

All magic users died quickly enough, if you could get your steel into them, that is. The problem lay more in the fact that they tended to work well at a distance, and could conceal themselves from sight when you got close.

Oh yes, mages did a whole lot of damage before they went down. The best way to counter them was to have a mage or two on your side. Danil frowned deeper. The boy had still not returned with any answer.

Nassiel stood and examined her fellow student with a frown. "It's not normal magic." The wound on his side had begun to fester, despite the healing that the two elves had managed to accomplish. "Something else has been mixed with the usual energy of the spell, something that is based in corruption."

Riversong stood as well and gazed impassively at her protégé. "The evil that lies within, the grasp of power that corrupts, that is what powers the spells that these mages cast. Not the elemental forces of nature."

The knight scowled. "Hence we have left ourselves defenseless here against them then. I swear, evil swarms to the prey faster than vultures. By Tyr, how do we then defend ourselves?" The last not more than a murmur, though the elves still heard it.

Nassiel shrugged and looked to her mentor. The elder elf looked Danil in the eye for a long moment before giving her answer. "We leave now, to summon our sisters. The wizards have no interest yet in your village. Keep to yourselves until our return. If mages can be had, so much the better, but be prepared; this cesspool of evil must be disposed of before it can taint us all."

The two elves gathered their companion and vanished back into the night.
Bertrand woke early the next morning, rising unsteadily from his bedroll. Sleeping on the ground was no picnic, despite the fact that they had been inside a building all night. Hard wooden floor, thin bedroll. He hoped that the suffering he encountered during this journey was worth it. Beside him on the floor, Sartos slept the sleep of the dead. Not surprising when one considered the tiny amounts of sleep he'd been allowing himself on this return trip. If nothing else, the messengers at least took their missions seriously.

The mage blinked his eyes as he stepped outside into the shadowed world of the early morning. Hints of light had begun to show in the sky, and a few shadows moved between buildings; apparently he wasn't the only one to rise with the sun.

Well, at least they were within a day's ride of their destination. According to the commander of the watch, the road was kept clear by a constant patrol. Nothing should bother them until they got beyond Undermane into the forests.
Athliel turned towards her watchers. The sorceress focused momentarily on their expressions before delivering her verdict. "The magic is tainted. Where did you encounter such a thing?"

"North of the borders, in the elder forest. Dark is the heart that wrought this; turning upon his own kind like some mad beast in heat. Save for divine favor, not one of us should have left the lair alive. Power has made him mad even as he feasted upon its forbidden fruit."

Nassiel's eyes flashed with muted anger. "He once was one of the People, but this claim he lost on whatever day he chose his fated path. His corpse lays still where we left it for all we know, though whether his evil has done is another thing entirely. May his soul rot for eternity outside the springs of life."

The vehemence with which the young elf decried her former tormentor startled the elders. As one they turned to regard her, cool gazes reflecting her visage for a long moment. Athliel was first to break the silence afterward. "Unless released, you will be consumed; unwitting fulfillment of his desire."

She then turned to Riversong, thoughts passing unspoken betwixt the two. "I shall deal with the remains of the spell that yet lingers in his blood. It would appear that they have found ways to fuel their magic with their innermost dark desires. It is this which lingers yet and wonderingly; for I deem that in most cases it would spread throughout the receptor to touch and increase darkness in the target's soul. Perhaps the gods have really intervened in this case…"

A sigh lighter than any breeze, then her attention returned to master and student. "Perhaps meditation would give you clearer perspective on this mystery while you await his return to you."

Riversong nodded and stood, golden hair wisping away as she did so. At a glance, Nassiel joined her, and together they strode out of the bower. The sorceress watched for a long moment as they disappeared into the distance. Sighing, the she elf turned to perform what was necessary to the healing of her patient. To any outside watcher it would seem that the flows of power rose and fell in majestic lightshows for hours on end. Late into the evening it continued, then fell silent as the darkness grew complete.


They felt the breeze. Master and student they stood, ensconced in the grove while the world around them moved along the graceful dance of creation. Life flowed around them, bathing them in its all encompassing embrace. Hours passed as they stood in silent meditation. As the darkness fell over the forest they ceased, refreshed in mind and body. Nassiel turned towards the elder elf as she finished.

"The healer was right, mentor mine." Expelling held breath in a sigh she continued. "The balance of nature helps to restore the balance within. It is the beauty of the creator's work."

Riversong nodded, grey eyes flashing in the last remaining traces of light. "Indeed. All things created have their natural balance, and in its flow we can find our own peace no matter what the storm. Remember this ever anon, young one."

The elder elf paused before resuming the trek towards the encampment. A slight frown was evident on her features, but vanished after the last vestiges of light finally fled. "Ah finally it is released. I had feared that the strain of continually holding the magic all this time would tell upon her."

Her student blinked in surprise, though this went unseen in the darkness. "All this time? Are things well?"

"Perhaps better than well; they are at peace."

Both rangers moved with renewed haste until they came upon the doorway to healer's hut. A faint pause while both listened to the silent sounds that emanated from the interior. As one the passed inside, to find it dark as well. Although not necessary, Nassiel nonetheless lit the lamp hanging from the ceiling to reveal Athliel draped unceremoniously over her patient's chest. Both breathed with the deep evenness of sleep.

"Shall we leave them be?" Mischief was hinted at in the tone of her voice.

Valia Riversong, elf maiden of many summers, smiled briefly. "We shall. They have need to regain their strength; therefore we shall not disturb them."

Nassiel's eyes flashed momentarily while as she took a seat in the corner to await the coming of the morning. 'Yet another elf sleeps with the halven one, though he knows it not. Much mirth they will have to endure come the morn because of the seriousness of the pain that he bore beforehand.' Softly the sigh escaped from her lips. 'Perhaps...'

Athliel awoke early the next morning to find two elven faces smirking across the room at her. Pushing up from her current resting place, she took in her position. "Oh my…"