They stood at the door to the orphanage, watching him with an adoration only the very young seemed capable of. These two new-found friends were his sweethearts. It was unlikely that they were sisters, but in the way of the forgotten ones, they were. The blue-eyed, fair haired human and the dark skinned, silver eyed half-drow lived under the same roof in the hope that some day, a new mother and father would arrive to take them home.
Heile's breathless exclamation as he swept her up into his arms lifted Rolan's heart. "So, how do you like it here so far?" he asked, settling her on a seat made with his forearm.
She was all eyes and ears, trying to take it all in at once; The sight, sound, and smell of the blacksmith shop across the street; The rumble and clop of a horse-drawn wagon passing close enough to actually touch; And a mockingbird in the dooryard with the most impressive repertoire of calls, including the sound of Haljal's hammer at the 'smith's shop, all competed for her attention.
"We've got to be going," Gale reminded him, hefting his travel-bag and turning to the street. "Your wife is waiting. It's just a short walk from here." His impatience was not like him at all.
"I hear ya'," Rolan replied. He kissed Heile on the cheek and set her beside her new sister at the door, who clamored for his attention too. She got a kiss as well. After taking stock of his pack's contents, he waved to the little ones and followed the moon elf down the busy street and out of town.
Gale was tireless. In spite of his small stature, he could walk for hours without rest. The killing pace he set all but walked Rolan into the ground. A few hours walk and they were in unfamiliar territory. The moon elf boy continued his pace, never missing a turn. When he came to a stream rolling around and over fallen rocks, he called a halt.
After a quick rest, the two stepped into a portal in a sheer rock wall that Gale insisted was marked-Rolan gave up looking. He couldn't see anything on the weathered cliff's face.
The portal exited into rolling forested foothills leading upward to dark mountains shrouded in the distance. Rolan shifted his pack to ease a sore shoulder. If this is just a short walk, I'd hate to see what he'd call a journey, he grumped. He was going on will now-One foot in front of the other. The two sentries posted at the camp's perimeter were a most welcome sign that his torment was over for today.
The sight of Lillith, shading her eyes to the setting sun's glare, so much like his mother, erased his weariness. Her embrace transported him to a quiet place where their hearts lived. Only now did he realize how much he'd missed her. After their evening meal, a whole night lay before them-Tomorrow, they would have to climb Mount Galardrym...
Galcuiva en Teu-Tel'Quessir awoke from a most disturbing reverie. It was about Rolan and Lillith's final trial-A trial beyond his ability to comprehend. Their path ahead was littered with many darkly obscured obstacles. Though his experience was limited, he feared for his charge's sanity. "My Lady's will be done," he murmured, getting up to rouse the chosen ones.
"Vedui, vanime hin," the tiny, moon elf woman's greeting brightened Isilme'len's morning. The long trip from the Temple of the Moon to Highcliff did not tax her unduly-The temple's Starsinger Midwife had taken an easy pace-There was still plenty of time.
"And vedui to you as well, ai'tara," E'len said in return. Since Tiernah had volunteered to help out at the bakery, she could afford to take a day off and stay at home every now and then. "Please, come in. Make yourself at home," she said to her visitor.
At little mother's bidding, Rolan's mom led the way to his and Lil's bedroom. "My dreams are shrouded in an impenetrable mist," she lamented, opening the door. "What can I do to aid them?"
Ai'tara's smile at a mother's concern was cryptic. "Be here for her," she replied. "Your heart will show you the way-Heed its wisdom." She sighed and settled into the chair in a corner beside the bed. "Her trial has begun. Remember... the one chosen will not see all-All that is the will of Our Lady. In the end... all will be well-all manner of things." With that said, she pulled a dark velvet shawl around her shoulders and closed her eyes.
Just before leaving camp to search Mount Galardrym for Gale's cryptic forgotten one, the three took stock;
Lillith, dressed in elven chain mail with considerable room about the middle, carried an ornate duskwood longbow befitting her prowess. The missiles it launched were crafted at the temple for their purpose-The elven fletcher knew of the undead the three would face and how to defeat them.
Rolan's mithral chain, carefully fitted when he got to camp last night, was covered by a blue Bladesinger's tabard. The hilt of the sword given to him by the Double Eagle's crew and consecrated to Eilistraee, was beside his left ear-Close at hand.
Gale's doeskin Armor of the Chameleon, dyed a pale pastel blue, granted him the ability to hide in plain sight. Tendrils of lightning crackled from the ends of his half-staff. His reply to their questions about why they were here was simply that someone forgotten needed help. He headed up the trail without further comment.
"This is the path the Knight-Captain's band of mercenaries followed," Rolan called to his wife. When she caught up with him, he showed her the broken arrow he'd found. The red feathers it was fletched with told him Neeshka had been here.
The path, clinging to the side of this most inhospitable pile of rock and molten lava, was narrow-They'd have to travel in single file much of the way. One misstep, one slip, could lead to an agonizing death in the flaming lava pits below.
The tiny group threaded their way up the steadily rising path. Their view was obscured by smoke and heat haze rising from pools of molten rock on both sides of the path.
A desiccated corpse marked the divergence of the trail. To the left, it sloped downward into thicker haze and more smoke. To the right, the path grew steeper, climbing to higher levels obscured by bitter sulfurous fumes. They took the right fork, the climb getting tougher the farther along they progressed.
To the right, sitting on a knob of rock, was a crudely built watchtower. Its size spoke of fire-giant design. At Gale's cry of warning, Rolan drew his blade. It was ablaze with a blue flame that hissed with holy menace at their enemy as he swept it around and over his head. Lil's bow was drawn and an arrow was ready.
What appeared to be fire giants lumbered down the trail. Their immense size caused the ground to tremble under their slow heavy tread. They'd been fire giants... once. Now, their cadaverous appearance did not whisper, did not speak... it shouted undead to the three.
Lillith's blessed arrow put the leading giant down before he got very far-The shaft staked his dead heart. She watched with a dark fascination as the corpse collapsed in on itself, leaving a smear of grey ash as a marker. There was now two giants left for them to deal with.
Between the two remaining undead and Rolan stood two beasts that had once been their pets. The hell hounds' mangy pelts were alive with worms, the rotting flesh had sloughed off in places. Their stench assaulted Rolan, enveloping him in a wave of revulsion. Lil's warning call rooted him in place as Gale's chain lightning consumed one, then the other, leaving a thin, gritty haze to go along with the ringing in their ears. The acrid pall added to the general fug of this gods-forsaken place.
Two of his wife's arrows hissed over his head in quick succession, effectively staking one of the remaining giants. Rolan's blade pierced the heart of the last one standing, sending him to his eternal rest. Nothing remained of these undead but a trace of gray ash on the bare stone that the restless wind would soon remove. Sehanine's Three had done their job well.
After a short rest they continued, following a trail that ascended the mountain's tortured contours. A glowing river of lava flowed sluggishly through the canyon far below, reminding them of the consequences of a misplaced step.
The trail forked again at a large lava pool. This time, they took the left trail that ascended to a log stockade, like those used to hold prisoners. This one was deserted, the gate flung open. Rolan's sword beheaded a hell hound before the others even know of the attack. Two fire giants and a remaining hound appeared from the camp beyond.
While her husband dispatched the hound, Lil and Gale dealt with the two undead fire giants. After her arrows slowed them down, the boy's fire-ball released them from their necromantic bondage.
Before the three had a chance to catch their breath, four more giants lumbered up from the far side of their camp. Rolan and Lillith could only stand still and stare as the most impressive volley of chain lightning they'd ever seen deafened them. Sehanine's Sentinel now commanded the power of The Daughter of the Night Skies. The rumble of Gale's most recent thunder marched away, following the ancient fire-scoured peaks to the west. The undead fire giants who once lived at this camp were no more.
After snorting at the scorched smell of death all around her, Lil paused to take a good look around. Though nothing showed itself, she couldn't escape the feeling of being watched. She felt no evil intent-Nothing at all like that. It was just a benign presence that followed behind, watching. Suppressing a shiver, she hefted her carry-all and hurried to catch up with the others.
The gate on the stockade built at the end of the valley trail hung askew, its hinges, though solid, were twisted by some force of impressive proportions. Edging up along one side, Rolan peered into the clearing known as The Seat of the Mountain. The fire giant king's throne, a massive stone edifice of black basalt, was on a tiny island in a pool of flaming lava. To the right was a log palisade for prisoners. Its gate was secured by a long iron bar.
Evidence of a recent battle was scattered everywhere; Broken weapons and pale bloodless corpses littered the flat expanse hewn from the native bedrock. No scavengers squabbled over their treasure here, nothing moved.
To Rolan's surprise and then his horror, the corpses stirred and, one-by-one, got to their feet-There were four fire giants and three hell hounds all told. Their king, the largest by half-a-head, bent to retrieve a battle-axe of massive proportions.
As the giants grouped around their leader, Rolan retreated into the valley, past the broken gates, forcing the hounds to advance one at a time. His blade, having once tasted its foe, glowed ever brighter as the undead beasts closed in, reminding the three that they were not alone-They were tel'Seldarine.
After dispatching the first devil-dog, he stood his ground, knowing the battle would soon be joined. He paused for a heartbeat or two and seeing no more beasts, sidled up to the gate once again. The giants were standing on the far side of the clearing, waiting. The three would have to bring the battle to their enemy.
Knowing that arcane spells and blessed arrows would soon be following, Rolan charged through the gate and disappeared from sight. Lillith would remember his battle cry; Ilornaaa... and how it was cut off for the rest of her long life.
Gale paused before advancing, torn between his concern for Rolan and his duty to Lil's safety. The Chosen One was alright-Her bow ready. She waved him on with an impatient shooing gesture. The moon elf stepped into the trap without looking back.
Her knitting, after many years of patient practice, was now second nature. A cross between true knitting and crocheting, her work was treasure-Finer and softer than anything made on a loom. Her heart and soul were poured into the gifts she crafted for the little ones. Strong and durable, they were often passed from one generation to the next. She sighed in resignation and tucked the half completed coverlet away. It was now time.
"I don't understand it," E'len was saying to Tie as they sat in the kitchen eating break fast. "Last year's harvest was the best ever, but look at the prices. Even flour and corn starch have almost doubled-Why is everything so dear?"
The Knight-Captain was thoughtful. "The shadow-blight on the mere, the attack on Castle Never, on the throne itself..." she shook her head. "The specter of war puts the fear of the gods into everyone. Rumors are that it's now being called the War of Shadows-It affects the supply and the price of food..."
"Please forgive the intrusion, my children," she began. Although ai'tara's presence always lifted their mood, today was an exception. "The chosen one's trial has begun. We have a part to play yet. Please, come with me." After sending their orphan-helper to the bakery with news of their absence, they followed little mother solemnly, in single file upstairs.
Their elven communion started that morning and continued through mid-day, past sunset and into the quiet night. On Isilme'len's right was the Knight-Captain-To her left was ai'tara. After the sun dipped below the horizon, as if on cue, Moonbow lay down on her cushion in the circle between their knees. Curling into a compact ball, she promptly fell asleep.
At moonrise, Tiernah's blue telkiira once more ascended to eye level in the center of their circle. It projected an image of Sehanine's Three from the wasteland called Mount Galardrym. The Three of Highcliff watched reverently as the Trial of the Mother unfolded.
The child's father had just charged foolishly into what could only be called a meat grinder with unholy blades wielded by undead fire giants. The moon elf pipsqueak, a conduit for the most impressive display of arcane firepower that he'd ever seen, just stood there-Not sure of what to do.
After seeing the pregnant girl send the moon elf on with a wave, he quietly stepped closer, ready to press his advantage. Shandra's spirit was very close now-He could almost feel her presence. Patiently, he awaited Lillith's next move.
Lillith's view from the gate was obscured by heat haze. She couldn't see Rolan or Gale, and a vast emptiness was creeping up on her. It was not like that sensation of being watched, of being followed-That still nagged her. She felt nothing-They just weren't here.
Her first arrow was true, it found its target-As was the second, then the third. The king's minions fell one after the other. Seeing his advantage slipping away, he charged Lillith's bow, swinging his axe with each long stride. She was so intent on her target, the voice reciting an incantation very close behind escaped her notice. Her free hand, so adept and confident, had been betrayed. It reached back over her shoulder and froze as realization dawned on its owner. The last missile had flown-The quiver was empty.
The mother-to-be couldn't breath. It felt as if she was underwater as the warlock's two furious blasts of eldritch energy passed over her head with very little room to spare. The bolts splattered against the giant's torso, enveloping him in a purple-black death bag. He was tottering on the very edge of balance as the death magic consumed his life. He toppled over as the spells dissipated with a sharp bang. Before Lil could even think of getting out of the way, the fire giant king fell on her and the lights went out.
The girl was buried under a dusty pile of empty plate mail. Her arms and legs all pointed in the right direction-Nothing appeared to be broken. Thank the gods for small favors-The chosen one still lived. The problem was, which god? Oh, that's right, the warlock grumbled to himself. The moon elves call her Sehanine. After thinking for a moment, Thank Sehanine, he amended, looking skyward with a sour face.
All the abominations spawned by the illustrious Knight-Captain's friends as they carelessly slashed their way through here were gone, dispatched by these three children. The girl owed him her life-He'd taken the last giant just before his axe fell. The dust that had once been fire giant bodies was left where they'd fallen-Bits of armor and broken weapons were scattered hell-to-breakfast about the clearing. His arcane sense told him these undead would not rise again.
The brave fool and the elven pipsqueak were absent as well. Leaving a pregnant woman to fend for herself... sheer lunacy, he snorted, taking a long look around. I'll have to take care of this myself, he said to no one in particular, gently lifting the girl and settling her into a makeshift bed under a lean-to built beside the prisoner's pen. Her travel bag, stocked with necessary healing potions and a scant supply of food, he placed at her feet-as well as his last full water skin. That she'd need when she awakened.
He was finished here-He could do no more. Dusting his hands, he sighed when confronted with the prospect of the long trek back to Crossroad Keep. Before he could take a step, his world grayed out and the rock disappeared from beneath his feet. The chaos of the maelstrom enveloped him, but he had no cause to fear the situation, he'd traveled to other planes than this. It was obvious he was being sent somewhere-Time would tell him where, if not who was doing the work. To save his sanity, he relaxed and closed his eyes. When the quiet returned, he opened his eyes to a room at the Phoenix Tail Inn, his room, it seemed. "Thank you, Arwen en Amin," he said graciously to The Daughter of the Night Skies. Our purposes are not in conflict here, he thought with a rare smile.
Grey Co. Elven Translations;
Galcuiva en Teu-Tel'Quessir-Celebrate the awakening of the people of the moon-Gale's elven name.
Vedui, vanime hin-Greetings, beautiful child.
ai'tara-Little Mother.
tel'Seldarine-'of the' Seldarine.
telkiira-loregem
Arwen en Amin-My Lady (non-familiar)
A/N Again... Thanks to Wyl for helping to 'tack the corners down'. C.