A/N: I've got this up at last! My new addiction to Oblivion was getting in the way somewhat but I still managed it.

evildictionaryninja: Let me clear it up for you. Noalith didn't want to contact any other people because he was scared of what they might do if they found out he was Manastreth's son. Is that better now? Now, I've got something to ask you. I am really at a loss at what to do with the Maltandir part. Any ideas to get me going you can offer?

Calasier Avamela Prologue

Manastreth: Lost in Fire

He trembled in fear, begging his mind to block out the noises coming from all around him. Screams of pain and the roar of fast-approaching flames. The clash of swords and the cry of spells. Manastreth clapped both his hands over his mouth, quivering so much that his headdress shook with fear. The enormous sword lay useless in front of him, dropped some time ago,

Where are Nestriv and Renewl? They said they would come and rescue me after they had cleared away. His legs pulled themselves closer to his torso, What if something happened to them? Oh, what am I to do? If only I had spent more time practicing with my sword, I might be able to help. But, I'll only be a hindrance, I know it. Father always said I was useless...

His thoughts went on and on like this as he shrank further and further into the wall. The sword quivered on the floor as though it shared its master's fear. The Elves were probably swarming like flies all over his ship, killing every Drow in sight, Oh, why did they have to attack us? I'm scared. He gripped his shoulders, hugging himself tightly, My children...my wives...where are you? Brother, help me...

The air was split with a great creaking noise and, with a crash that made him leap to his feet, the mast came down onto his cabin in a shower of splinters and sparks. He shielded himself with his arms and peered over them. The fire was spreading now and he would soon be surrounded. Shakily, he picked up his sword and, his hand shielding his face from the heat, he leapt out through the hole made.

The whole ship was littered with Drow bodies, some already burning. And there were only a few Elf bodies. He felt sick. The strong smell of burning flesh made him dizzy. Stumbling backwards, he tripped on something. The something grunted in pain. Looking down, he gasped, "Nestriv! Renewl!" Horror filled him as he saw the deep wounds all over their bodies and he had to clap his hands over his mouth to stop the scream welling up inside him,

"Don't fret about us, you idiot." growled Nestriv. His helmet lay in broken shards beside him and he was bleeding from a deep gash on his forehead, "Start worrying about yourself for once."

"But...you're wounded..."

"This is fine!" barked Renewl, his voice rasping from pain, "This is the finest death a Drow can ask for; dying in the heat of battle."

"There's no such thing as a fine death!" Tears leaked from his eyes at the sight of them, "You can't die! I don't want you to die! If you die, whatever shall I do?"

"Be quiet, will you?" snarled Nestriv, flinching away from Manastreth's attempts to pick him up, "And leave us alone. Your army's being killed and here you are, blubbing like a baby over our deaths."

Not one part of what he said made any sense to him. Surely they didn't want to die. They couldn't die. They were the strongest warriors on the ship, "I can't do anything." Manastreth sobbed as Renewl gave a groan of agony, "You were right; I am effeminate, I am no good as a Warlord. My brother was the better..." His sobs were getting the better of him and his thoughts wandered, "...so why was it him that died and I that lived?" He buried his face in his hands and wept. Nestriv half-shouted,

"Shut up! Your sentimentality's making me sick. Now, do us all a favour and jump ship. Let the Crocodiles have you if you won't defend your own army. Damn," He groaned, looking around, "this ship's doomed anyway. The fire's spreading."

More screams made Manastreth look up startled. A dozen unclothed, unkempt half-Drows, all with overgrown hair spilled out from a hole in the deck. They were fleeing in a blind panic away from a single pursuing elf. His hair was glittering black, his sword shimmering silver and his armour (though bloodstained) seemed to glow wildly in the firelight. His pale face showed no emotion as he cut down the slowest; a girl who looked so young she might have been in her twenties,

"Calasier Avamela," growled Nestriv, "he was the one who fought and defeated us."

"Calasier Avamela?" Manastreth gasped. He had heard of the Prince of Valivial who, four hundred years ago, had become cold, heartless and cruel. Indeed, he showed no mercy to the defenceless half-Drows as he killed them one by one without hesitation, "No..." The words came from his mouth unbidden in his horror of the massacre taking place before his eyes, "...no..."

"Damn it," growled Nestriv,

"Please, don't talk so much." Manastreth said, looking fretfully at the motionless Renewl, "You need to save your strength." Nestriv ignored him,

"He's killing those brats."

"Brats?" Manastreth looked up at the three that remained. They had managed to climb up the second mast and sat fearfully in the crow's nest. The fire was spreading to the figurehead now, its light casting upon them. One small boy's hair spilled over the side, showing it to be pure white. His golden eyes stared, wide-eyed in fear. He didn't know how he knew. It just came to him as soon as their eyes met, "My...my children...?"

"Of course." Nestriv's voice was growing weaker, "We spared the ones that had special gifts and put them in the lowest cabins below."

"You never told me..." Manastreth bore no anger, simply shock, "...you deceived me...?" He stared back at the children. Calasier Avamela had sheathed his sword and was now climbing the rigging. A sudden rush of fire burst inside him. He could not allow him to harm his children. In a swift movement, he ran straight at Calasier Avamela and landed a heavy blow to his head. It hit the mast and the elf slumped, unconscious.

Not hesitating for a second, he leapt onto the rigging and was in the crow's nest within seconds. The little children shrank at the sight of him, "Do not fear, little ones." He said, pushing down the blaze of fury within him and his love for them blossomed in place, "I am your father. I will get you away from here." With that, he scooped them up and leapt from the mast. He ran down flights of stairs, through dozens of battles that were too intense to take notice of him. At last, he found the longboat-holding cabin and that, thankfully, was not affecting by the fire. He bundled them all into the nearest and stuffed six supply bags into it, containing enough food to last them until they reached land and enough money to sustain them when they did. He pushed it into the shallow dock and proceeded to pull up the sea hatch.

When he returned to them, he saw the biggest already picking up one of the oars, "Please, you must escape this place."

The white-haired one looked puzzled, "You are our father, the one who forced us to live in a dungeon and cut off our hands."

Manastreth gasped. None of this was true. Nestriv and Renewl had done all that, surely. How much have they hidden from him? "It was not I. My generals snatched you all from me and told me they killed you. I had no idea that you lived."

"He isn't lying." said the only girl, a red-haired half-Fire elf, "I saw his past and he is no tyrant. He has been dominated by overbearing generals who wanted him to be like his father."

"You know?"

"I have the Wanvila. I can see visions of the past." She smiled at him, "I wanted to meet you. You seem so nice."

New tears flowed from his eyes and he hugged her, "Oh, I wish I had known your existence. I would have cherished you all." A loud thump and a scream echoed from above, "There is no time! You must go from here. Live long lives free of your shackles."

"What of you, Father?" asked the girl,

"That, I know not. But I must see you survive this! You must leave this terrible place. Let me give you names that I hope you shall bare as a reminder of this brief moment of me." He named the girl Nelgatha (meaning forgiveness due to her nature; he presented her with an amber pendant he was given by who he supposed was her mother), the white-haired boy Korinhir (meaning snow after his hair; he gave him a ring of warding from his finger given to him by his brother) and the biggest one Zeres (meaning strength due to his size; it was he that Manastreth entrusted his dagger). He kissed each of them and pushed the boat out into open sea. The oilskins fell on their wet faces and Manastreth watched the little boat sail away out of sight, Deities, if you exist, hear my prayer. Guard those three that sail tonight. Bring them to their new lives safe and may my memory live forever in their minds.

He glanced up at the ceiling. Fire was beginning to seep through the ceiling. He thought of who was above him, My children will never be safe until I stop Calasier Avamela pursuing them. Gulping in fear in spite of himself, he retraced his steps back up to the deck. Why had he ever been afraid? If it was to protect his children, he would have faced a thousand enemies and gladly. He would defeat Calasier Avamela. He would not kill him but he would defeat him. He would defend his children, save Nestriv and Renewl and go away to start a new life away from war.

He came onto the flaming deck, the fire holding no fear for him now. His opponent, the threat to his peace, was getting to his feet, rubbing the place where he had been struck. Nestriv and Renewl were concealed by flames, I do hope they are alright. His right hand raised without fear and he drew his broadsword. Calasier Avamela saw him and readied his sword,

"You have finally shown your face, Manastreth, Warlord of the Rhunyle Sea."

Manastreth knew it was customary for Warlords to give a speech before fighting a strong opponent. He knew exactly what to say, "Before, I was a meek Drow, dominated by my generals. Now, I face you alone to defend those I love. I have never taken a life and I do not intend to start now. I bear you no hatred but, for the sake of my children, I will defeat you."

Calasier Avamela raised an eyebrow but said nothing. He pushed forward and the battle began.

Nestriv and the newly conscious Renewl stared at the swords clashed and the opponents darted about the deck. They were both silent and wide-eyed for a long time. It was Renewl who spoke first, "He's amazing!" For indeed, Manastreth could have been mistaken for his father, he fought so well. Better, perhaps, since he was slighter than Calasier Avamela. The bulky, clumsy-looking sword moved fluidly, weightlessly in the air, singing in the wind in whistles and whooshes. Calasier Avamela was already sporting scratches to the arm and face,

"He could have taken us on anytime and won!" Nestriv gasped, as Manastreth only just missed a swipe that would have chopped off his head, "If he was this good, why didn't he say? He would be a fine Warlord!"

"Even better if he wasn't holding back so much." Renewl's comment made Nestriv look round puzzled, "Oh yes, he's holding back. I've seen about five times he could have killed Calasier Avamela so far and he ignored them all. Calasier Avamela is merciless. If this carries on, it will be Manastreth who will be defeated."

"Damn," Nestriv growled, "if I wasn't like this, I'd help him!"

"Help him?"

"Of course! He's the warlord and we're his generals, Renewl!"

Out of the corner of his eye, Manastreth saw one of his half-Drow children who was slashed at the shoulder get shakily to his feet. This gave him new heart. If he could save that one, his family would be one person bigger. Calasier Avamela was weakening. His movements were getting slower. Or were his getting faster? Either way, he was winning. He smiled with delight. He had never won against anyone apart from the times his brother had let him win, My family will be safe for sure. He shot the smile briefly at the half-Drow boy, who was leaning against the second mast, watching the fight, Stay alive, my son, for I will save you!

CLANG!

The silver, emerald-encrusted sword flew high into the air and landed about five feet away. Calasier Avamela stared at it, his empty hand reached out two feet too short, as though unable to believe it. Manastreth felt like jumping in the air and cheering but, thinking that would be bad etiquette, he stuck his sword into the deck so it stood alone; a gesture of peace,

"You fight with great strength, Valivian, but fate has chosen me to be the victor." Calasier Avamela turned to glare at him. His green eyes were cold and emotionless, though his face was outraged at his defeat. Manastreth smiled kindly, "You are a worthy fighter but you are young. I beg you to declare your defeat and call back your troops. I shall call mine to peace if you do so. There is no need for further bloodshed on our account. I will let you and your army leave here unscathed. Do I have your word?" He turned and smiled widely at the half-Drow. His heart leapt when he managed a smile back.

WHOOSH!

Something whizzed past his ear, clipping a few strands of his hair. He had barely time to look round when a dagger appeared stuck in the half-Drow's neck. Horror and shock filled him. With a strangled cry, he stretched out his left arm as the limp boy fell to the floor -

A flood of pain shot through his shoulder and he fell ungracefully to his knees, whimpering. It was only when he gripped his shoulder and saw the ghastly evidence before him in a pool of blood did he realise that his arm had gone. He could have screamed, he could have fainted from the sight but the sound of a voice above him and the feel of a cold sword pressed to his neck stopped him,

"That is my answer, Manastreth." Calasier Avamela stood over him, completely changed from the defeated elf he had seen just moments before. Now he was the dominant one, "I could see from the moment I saw you that you were not the brutal tyrant I was led to believe you were. Perhaps those two were dominating you." He gestured at the staring Nestriv and Renewl, "There was a look of greed about them. You are a weak Drow, unworthy of the title of Warlord. You cannot even be called a soldier. You have none of the pride or sinew that is due to that name."

Manastreth sobbed to the deck, still blinded with pain, "If a soldier's pride and sinew means slaughtering innocent children, then I don't want it." Behind him, he heard both Nestriv and Renewl collapse. This could not be happening. He could have sworn he had won and surely it was soldier's etiquette to give up the fight after he had lost his sword.

His right hand reached back and found the hilt of his sword. Though blinded with rage, grief and pain, he stood up and made a desperate lunge.

The sea was calm, barely throwing up any spray against the rock. So, if anyone had been there, the arm that shot up from the blue would have been obvious. Clawing desperately at the rock, it found its mark and pulled up the sodden, beaten Drow. Barely holding onto the broken fragments of his broadsword, he choked up more blood, splattering white drops before him.

He managed to scramble onto the rock and made his painful way up the rock-face, slipping more and more with each inch he moved. Finally, he reached a cave, a deep hollow in the rock. He crawled into the darkness and the whole place echoed with his sobbing.

A/N: Aw, don't you just ache for him? I didn't put this chapter up for no reason by the way. It will all become clear in the future.