Orsraun Mountains

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"You may cross our river and wait on this side while we send word ahead," the elf with the sword replied after thinking for a minute.

Justice and Noma did so. "I am Janorthis, Leader of One Hundred. Welcome to the Realm of Bellandrial, but take care not to abuse your welcome. We have had some trouble with strange visitors recently." He moved over to a fallen tree and sat. "Please, sit if you want. It may be awhile."

Justice and Noma sat. Janorthis said nothing more, and neither did they. Birds sang. The archers let the tension out of their drawn bows, but they kept their arrows knocked. The sun gradually set behind the mountains.

More bird song rang out. Janorthis stood. "You may come. Remember, we are in mourning." He led the way into the forest. They went on no discernible path, but it was clear they were making their way to the high hill. Hauntingly beautiful singing echoed around them.

Finally they came to the summit. Under the huge tree an ancient elf lay on a wooden bier. A small group of white clad elves stood around the corpse while many more elves waited a bit farther away.

A large winged elf, with a fiery halo burning above his head, stood at the head of the bier, a burning torch in his hand. It was not the Herald of the Law Giver, yet Justice had seen him before.

"Herald of Rillifane Rallathil, I greet you in the name of the Law Giver," Justice said, stepping towards him.

"Justice of the Law Giver, I certainly did not expect to see you here today. We are already late. We should have started right at dusk, but the Queen wanted to see what celestial visitor had come to her wake. We will begin now, before the sun is totally set even over the mountains, then we will talk."

He plunged the torch onto the bier. Flames erupted around him. The lament became more plaintive, howling out its grief.

 

Noma sat on the riverside and did her best to wait quietly and patiently, but this place of grief made her uncomfortable and time crawled over her skin far too slow. She watched the elves, for an hour or so. Counted the leaves, then played with grass and pebbles, building bridges for ants, absentmindedly. To sit in silence was to let the thoughts swarm her, which was rarely pleasant. Still, she tried. After all, if Justice could wait, so could she. Night came.

When they, ages later, finally reached the bier, Noma felt like crying. This whole place echoed sorrow. It crawled under your skin.

She stayed at the edge of the crowd of elves, as far back as she could, when the ritual begun. She hoped that in the singing, no one would pay much attention to her. She needed a shadowy place, to collect herself.

The waiting elves all moved a bit forward. Space around Noma cleared somewhat. With all eyes on the funeral pyre, she took a tentative step back, seeking to avoid the torchlight.

"Caught you!" *an elven voice hissed quietly in her ear and she felt a blade tip on her back. Someone pulled her right wrist back, twisting it. She stumbled backwards into the welcoming shadows.

The singing continued unchanged.

"I don't know how you've changed the form you have, but you don't fool me. Your steps echo the same. You breathe the same. All day I've tracked you around. Now you'll tell me who you are and what you did at the Herald's landing. The place reeks of your passage."

The voice spoke on, in steady whisper as the pressure on Noma's wrist intensified. He was trying to scare her, but fear was already dying out in her. Noma recognised the tone, even if she had never met the elf. If he would ignore the funeral of his Queen for this, then the man must truly be determined. One of those honest souls that take their duty seriously. A guardian, protector. Most would never have noticed the subtle signs that all of her people shared. The core that never changed, as all liquid is alike. This elf was someone after her own heart, a person that pursued details.
She just hoped he doesn't break her wrist without even meaning it.


"I'm not who you think I am. We are just from the same place. I don't know what he did, but it was not me." *she replied just as quietly. Neither one of them wanted the ceremony disturbed.*

"I'm not a fool. You are too much alike. Tell me the truth!"

Her wrist was really starting to hurt. Now she was scared. Her arm had been broken before and if it broke again, it would never heal right. It would take ages to heal at all. She could not let that happen.

Noma focused. Far away, in her home, there was a lump of lead, chipped off at one end. Her own death, melted and solidified. It swung like a pendulum from the ceiling. It would swing for as long as she lived. Her weapon, when all others were spent.
She felt the droplet of lead form on the palm of her left hand. Part of death she'd brought along.

"I am telling you! Our souls are like lead, malleable, but heavy. We embrace beliefs of others, because we cannot form our own. There are hundreds of us."

Noma knew he would not understand. What had that other been, to cause hatred this intense. What had he done?

She spun slightly to the left and hit the man's side with her left hand, transferring the momentum of the distant pendulum. His chainmail soaked part of the blow, but he collapsed, catching his breath.

Noma fell down too, pulling back from him. She glanced to her palm. The lead drop had shrunk somewhat. This was a desperate measure. Woe to the one who uses up all of his death.
She staggered to her feet.

"I don't know who you saw. Some of us are lost, feeding off Belief like leeches. Others get broken. Trapped, hurt. Some simply take beliefs that no one else wants. All can be horrible, but I am neither!"

The elf was silent. Noma walked back to the ceremony, trying to look normal.

She was met with an angry glare of Rillifane's Herald. He must have felt her reaching home.
Faced with the gaze of an angry being a hundred times more powerful then she, Noma did the only sensible thing.
She waved to him.

 

The Herald of Rillifane Rallathil glared at Noma, sending her a sharp telepathic message: *We will deal with you at a later time*

The sun was more than halfway hidden, even beyond the mountains. He grimaced in distaste at necessity, and snapped his fingers. Time Stopped. For all but the Herald, Justice, and the spirit of the Queen, stepping out of the fiery bier, splendid in her youth. The Herald urgently beckoned to Justice. "I'm afraid I have run out of time, but I remember you being tenacious enough to follow me beyond the ends of the earth if you don't find the answers you are looking for, so ask away. By the way, I never had a chance to thank you for your actions the last time we met. You chose the right, even though it was harmful to your people."

"What other decision could I have made?" Justice asked. "But what news do you have of the Law Giver. His Eye is not in its celestial home."

"I could not believe it, but it is true," the Queen broke in. "A visitor from the Lost Island has come to see me off. My grandmother gave me an exquisite hair comb that she said was from the Lost Island. It was so beautiful, and now I'm sure it was, its designs were very similar to your sword hilt."

"What is she talking about?" Justice asked the Herald, fear edging into his voice.

"There's no way to say this gently, Justice. The Law Giver has left this set of planes. All of your people died, and He and them no longer needed contact to this material world. He took them on to an even higher plane." The Herald gave Justice a sympathetic look.

"I remember it!" the Queen said. "I was yet a princess, and the Blind Giant was still the Cyclops. The Eye exploded in a brilliant star, so bright that it rivaled the sun, even during the day. It burned for weeks before finally fading."

"And, my Queen, your final sun is also fading as we speak. We must depart," the Herald took her ghostly hand.

"Wait!" Justice pleaded. "What about me? Why am I still here? How can I follow the Law Giver to where our people are?"

"I only wish that I had the answers for you, fare well, Justice." The Herald snapped his fingers again, and Time began again. He picked the Queen up, and flew off in a blazing trail of fire.

"Gone, He is gone from here. Now I understand why I could not contact Him. But why am I still here? Was it simply to respond to that last request from that last lost soul?" Justice didn't even notice that he was speaking aloud. He started walking, not knowing where he was going.

"Gone, He is gone." Could such a thing be believed?

 

Bright Sun reflected off the brilliant snow, glaring harshly into Malar's pupils. They receded from the burn, as Malar pulled his hood down and his scarf over his face. An unshakable feeling of trepidation followed Malar as he climbed the slope, Malar's long practiced sigh escaped his lips again.

Malar remembered when he would love to sneak up upon his hidden assailants, but times had changed. He bowed his head and hoped he looked poor enough to discourage whoever watched him. He grinned as he pictured Alora creeping along the mountain, prepared to pounce.

Dalamar strode through the underbrush of Yuirwood, the ancient home of the forgotten Star Elves. He wore an magnificent meteor red tail coat, open at the front, displaying his abdomen and chest. His hair was short except for a skinny long braid grown from his sideburn, which he tucked behind his ear letting it dangle. At the tip of his braid, three feathers -black, white and red- were attached, they rattled slightly as he walked. He wore shin high, glossy black boots, and his ever clean white trousers.

He walked confidently, mocking the presence of the hidden Wood Elves, with bows drawn. Sung a bawdy tune, a sailor's song, he could smell their anger (for the song said some very rude things about Elvish women). Dalamar's wicked grin was etched across his face, he dared them to attack, he dared them to unleash his retribution.

Alas, the Clan Elder must have warned them sternly for his passage was clear, and their arrows stayed taunt on their strings. He strutted down the forest trail, his tailcoat's tails flapped lazily beside him, and Alora padded like death beside him. For her two tons of girth, she made no sounds, no shudder from her falling paws. She bumped him easily, nearly knocking him into a awfully large tree.

"Alora my dear, you could have hurt me. I could have hit that tree, who knows what could have happened." He grinned a devilish grin, showing unnerving pointed teeth, and struck the tree with so much force two Elves were launched from their perches. "Let's have some fun, my love."

Alora didn't need to be told twice, she pounced away. Crashing through trees and chasing elves, her claws and teeth stayed hidden, this was merely a lesson. Dalamar darted off the separate direction, bringing out his long fencing epée, and poked Elvish bottoms, and snapped bow strings. He laughed maniacally and he chased them. "Come here my pretties!" He screamed while brandishing his weapon high.

Minutes of madness later Dalamar and Alora both crashed into a small clearing. Both had insane expressions on their faces, and were yelling (or growling) obscene threats. They stopped immediately upon seeing each other, trying to hold a serious expression. But the mirth bubbled out of them, and soon they were laughing too hard to stand. He sat against her massive shoulder, chuckling away the last of his laughter. "You really are a good friend you know." He said suddenly, turning his jet black eyes towards her massive green orbs. He paused and made a face, "though you should take a bath more often."

His barks of laughter were ended, by her mouth, which enveloped his entire head. His muffled voice could be barely heard, "although I do find your smell remarkably appealing."

Malar looked up at the sky, it was dark and purple, the Sun's glare was dashing away. Malar hitched his pack higher up his shoulder, there would be no rest tonight.

 

Noma was glad that the Herald talked. In her experience, true trouble started when people skipped the conversation part and started solving disputes in painful (though effective) magical ways.

An apology half-formed in her head, she watched as the Herald departed with the Queen. Noma sighed in relief - that had gone rather well.

She turned to Justice, hearing him speak. The vacant look on his face told her that somehow, he had received his answer. The Law Giver was dead.

Even though she always knew that this was a strong possibility, Noma had hoped for a different Truth for Justice. She started after him, not really sure how she could help. All she knew was that she wanted to.

Elves parted to let Justice pass and Noma followed, unsure where he was headed. The giant tree remained behind them, as did the burning bier of the Queen. The elves were all still there. Above, the Blind Giant burned coldly on the sky. Justice stopped.

"I am sorry." *Noma finally said. Hesitantly, she reached out and placed her hand on the curve of his wing. She couldn't quite reach his shoulders. She had wanted to hug him, but was not sure if that would bring him comfort. Maybe the celestials did not suffer the same.*

Unsure, she reached out for words next, letting them resonate through the bone needle. The only healing she knew.

"Where are you going?..." *she paused, realizing that things might not be as simple. Maybe the Herald had told him other things as well.*
"I can leave if you want. I don't know what the Herald told you, but I promise I didn't... He is a creature of belief and I can't really blame him for being paranoid. It's true that we are quite weak when not bonded and rather desperate, but..." *she had spoken quickly, but now stopped, realizing just how irrelevant all that was right now. It simply did not matter. His God was no more.*

"I understand if you don't want me around." - she said at last, letting silence descend. Silence, that had all sounds ever uttered woven in itself. Silence that ended all sounds. Maybe it could do what she could not - ease the death of a deity.

 

Justice felt a light touch on his wing. He turned and looked through tear blurred eyes into Noma's. "So this is how you mortals must feel when a loved one passes on to the next world. Finally I understand the wailing, the grief, the lamentation such as these elves are even now bemoaning."

"How many times have I said to one of my people, 'Grieve not, but rejoice, for your loved one is now enjoying the just rewards of a life lived in righteousness. Would you deny him the eternal presence with his god?' " Justice looked skyward, to where the Eye would never again shine in the heavens.

"Now I fully understand how hollow my words of sympathy were. I too, must believe that the Law Giver and my people have gone on to a new place, one where Chaos is unheard of, and He can finally stop worrying about the cares of this world, and forever be sure that his Laws will be obeyed. Yet what solace is that, knowing that I cannot join him there, unless and until I too pass over to that new place. And to do that, I would surely have to leave this world for eternity."

"How is it that you mortals can endure this grief? You know that you will never again in this life see or talk to your loved one. And even the promise of future reunions rings hollow when the possibility exists that you will not earn your reward, and be truly forever bereft of his presence?"

He turned and looked at Noma again. "Now I have a better understanding of why you have used up five sets of eyes, and the source of your tremendous sorrow and pain. True, your wound is different, and probably worse than mine, as you were obligated to send your loved one on with your own hand. But I have been abandoned. All of my people, and my Lord, are gone from this realm of existence, never to return. I don't even know where to begin to look for them."

Justice knew it was selfish to feel such self-pity, but he could not help it.

"I am alone," he sighed.

 

For some reason, even if he didn't cry, Justice's tears shook Noma far more then her own ever did. It was simply wrong to see a celestial mourning. She felt that she made poor comfort - but she felt that the decision ahead was the same as the one she had made for herself, so long ago. It was a known crossroad and thus, guidable.

"Only if that is what you choose to be. You can claim a new existence, in this world and let the dead remain dead. Or..." *she paused, considering her words* "...if loyalty still binds your steps, I can take you to where Law Giver, or at least a part of him, must dwell. I can even help you on your way."

"There is sorrow in both paths. You wished to know what mortals did. We remember. If we are truly fortunate, we dream and they still live." *Noma took out a small, empty vial. It had a turtle painted on it, in the colour of the sky.* "I am not fortunate. I traded too much of my past for oblivion without pain, so now I don't have enough to lure the dreams in and hold them safe. At first, it hurts so much that you are tempted to forget it all and with the pain, you take the joy away as well. Don't do what I did." *She gave Justice the tiny vial* "Perhaps your dreams will prove an easier catch."

She listened to what Justice replied.



At that point, a child ran up the path to them, bright eyed, too small to fully understand the events taking place at the top of the hill. It looked at Justice, mistaking his winged form for that of Rillifane's herald, most likely. It uncupped its hands and extended one of them, pleadingly. There was a butterfly on it, with one of its wings half torn off.
"Please, please, will you make it better? Like you made Amadilla better?" *the child spoke, hopeful, lifting itself on its toes, so to give Justice a better view of the butterfly*

Noma looked away. As good time as any. She reached to the broken tendrils of her bond and unraveled them. She reached for Belief, precipitated in the hollowness of her chest bone. She let it echo, like a beautiful instrument. So long has it been since her gift last sung. Sonauli. Leaden-Souls. Sonauli of the Strings. Her people.
Noma offered Justice a source of power, different and barely a shadow of a sandgrain of what Law Giver had given him in the past. Belief, as pure as her ashen soul could summon. Unbonded, she was weak. She let this belief glow softly within the reach of his mind. It was on him to accept or refuse.

The child waited patiently, with bright, hopeful eyes and infinite trust. Not trust in the Law Giver or Rillifane but in Justice of flesh and blood, standing in front of it.

 

Justice took the small vial from Noma.

"I remember, once, at the end of the second Quern war, Miakath the third had just taken the throne, his father having perished in the final battle of the war. He was bethrothed to Dinah of Quern, as part of the treaty ending the war. Another part of the treaty was that all the slaves taken in the first Quern war would be freed and allowed to return home. However, that year there was a severe drought, and the slaves were needed for the irrigation of the crops. Many nobles urged Miakath to postpone the emancipation, or face the starvation of his people, saying that it was not the right time to free them. The Law Giver was called upon to decide. He proclaimed, 'It is ALWAYS the right time to do what is right.' The slaves were freed, peace was ensured, and I worked side by side with the Law Giver, the King, and Queen Dinah. It was a lean year, but few died of hunger and none of war."

The memory filled him with warmth. "The Law Giver would not have abandoned me here. Yes, I have been left behind, but there must be a reason. What would I, Justice, do in that place they have gone to, where there would be no justice to enforce? To tell the truth, I think I would be quite bored. He said, 'It is ALWAYS the time to do what is right', and with that I take my mission. Injustice will always exist in this world, and I will always be here to combat it."

He looked at Noma and smiled, feeling somehow much better, though there was still much pain at his enourmous loss. "Thank you, Noma."

"Please, please, will you make it better? Like you made Amadilla better?" a small voice at his knee said. Justice looked down at the young elf maiden.

"See, even a child knows that things must be set right." His healing power had failed him the last time he tried to use it, but he could not refuse the innocent's request. He gently lifted the butterfly, and to his wondered surprise, found power in him again. With a stroke of his finger he fused the wing together. He layed the butterfly in the child's hand. She lifted it to the sky and it took off.

"Oh, you did it! Thank you!" The child lept up into his arms and gave him a sloppy kiss on the cheek.

"PUT THE PRINCESS DOWN DEMON!" a voice Noma recognized thundered. An elf in a grey cloak step out of the darkness. Two swords ready in his hands. Another elf, in emaculate elfen chain, strode forward with him. "Don't make a move, witch, or you will bleed from forty holes," the first growled at Noma.

"Princess Winnolith, come to me now!" the second commanded.

"No, Captain Rathe," the child pouted from Justice's arms. "You'll just put me back in my prison where I can't even climb trees!"

"We're your guardians, Princess, not your captors. And you know what your father says about trees." Captain Rathe patiently replied.

"I'm twenty-three years old. Why should I have to wait until I'm fifty to climb trees? I'm sick of having you guards always with me, everywhere I go!" she responded from the ground from where Justice and let her down.

"I am Justice, not a demon." Justice tried to explain. "I believe there must be a misunderstanding that we can surely clear up."

"Shut your hole!" the grey cloaked elf hissed. "Rathe, surely he is as much a wolf in sheeps clothing as the witch. She must be the same one as who stole the Queen's crown and lock of hair." He looked at Justice through a green stone ring and sniffed at him, then took a step back, passing the ring to Captain Rathe.

"He has recently been in contact with the demon who broke Prince consort Janaki's arm, back when he was with the border guards and they had to chase that demon and his big black cat out of our realm. I can smell it all over him. You may remember I was a new scout at that time. Clearly they are all involved in a diabolical plot. Luckily the Herald was able to get the Queen out in time. Did you see how when this demon took a step towards the Queen, the Herald immediately departed, and how the demon appeared next to the bier an instant later? And this witch used necromancy against me to incapacitate me. You can still taste in on my side. I say we shoot them now!"

"DO NOT SHOOT!" Captain Rathe ordered the scores of unseen archers. "We can not risk hurting the Princess. Princess, please, come to me now, the demon has no hold on you."

"No, then you'll just shoot him, and I like him," the Princess moved in front of his knee, offering him the meager protection of her slight form.

"Please, be not alarmed," Justice said, spreading his empty hands. "We mean no harm."

"That's what they always say," growled the cloaked elf.

 

Noma wondered what the Elves would have said if a real Sonauli witch were around to explain the differences in approach. They were unnervingly fond of fanaticism, even by Noma's standards, and quick to lightning bolts.

She felt dizzy and tired. Maintaining a Belief source was not something she could do for long - especially in her current state, but she stubbornly kept this one open, should Justice need it. It was a matter of pride.

Casually, though slowly, she sat down on the grass, crossing her feet (tailor-fashion) and leaning forward, like she had all the time in the world and was settling in to a spectacle.
No arrows flew.
Noma's face was emotionless, with just a touch of a smile tracing her lips, but inwardly, she was just lucky to get of her feet, unsure how long they would support her standing up, with the Belief blazing. This way, she didn't have to worry about legs.

"What are you doing, witch?" *curiosity overcame animosity in the grey-clad elf*

"Watching what happens to you." *she said calmly* "It is a reckless bravery to notch your arrows at a Celestial, come to you on Rillifane's Herald invite, wouldn't you say?"
Noma's words resonated softly, through the needle of bone. The glow of the belief made her forget just how little she could actually do.
"Will you truly let them loose, Captain?"

Belief shimmered slightly. Was she doing this right? Noma couldn't tell.

She turned to the girl, taking advantage of the momentary silence.
"Princess, you've frightened your guardians. You should go to them. Do not worry..." *Noma's eyes went back to the invisible line of archers* "Not one of their arrows will hit."

Conviction, that's all there was to it. It didn't have to be true.

She locked gazes with the elf in grey cloak. How well had she played her game?

Deep down inside her, anger was swelling. She did not have to follow his beliefs anymore. She didn't have to hold back and be careful of everyone's wellbeing. They've hounded her to here, they wanted a battle. Why should she be the one to back out of it? Why shouldn't she give the hardheaded elf a well deserved lesson in respecting others? She had that much power at least, she could... A pang in her chest silenced the rage and for once, she was glad of it.

Noma understood killing. Restraint was not hesitation. She hoped the two elves could sense this, as well. You've cornered me. Don't be surprised if I bite back.

 

Justice felt a presence around him. It was not the Law Giver, though it gave the same feeling of assurance that his nearness did. It seemed to be around Noma as well, maybe even emanating from her. It was warm and had no chaotic feelings to it, and he accepted it into himself with gratitude. He turned and smiled slightly at Noma, feeling a sudden bound with her that was somewhat rash for such a short acquaintance.


He addressed the elves, "You should believe Noma, as she is telling the truth. I think that should be obvious even to you. She is not a witch, and the only connection she has to the thief you are looking for is that of birth to the same tribe. One cannot be held accountable for what station they were born into."

"And you should believe me, I am no demon." He bent and spoke kindly to the Princess. "Winnolith, will you do something for me?"

"Don't do it Princess!" Captain Rathe yelled, "He will try to trick you!"

"Well, okay," the princess said.

"Good, I want you to walk over to Captain Rathe."

"But, they will..." the princess stammered.

"Didn't I fix your butterfly's wing when you asked? Now, go." He made shooing motions with his hand, and she did go to the captain.

"Thank Rillifane!" the captain sighed as he took the princess behind his back. "Korvathel, take the Princess to her parents." When she was safely gone he turned to Justice and Noma. "Thank you, Justice. I don't believe a true demon would have so easily let the Princess go. Perhaps we have hastily misjudged you and apolopies are in order on our part."

"Are you so easily deceived, Captain?" The grey cloaked elf hissed. "Even if what they say is true, this wi... er, woman, could obviously help us with information about the thief. What say you, Noma, are you so willing to prove your innocence to us that you would betray one of your own kind?"

 

*Noma shrugged* "My loyalties are elsewhere."

"You are looking for a man. He came to your realm under the tongue of a deer, in the form of a stag beetle. This deer had copper horns and white fur. It carried the man across the water and to the place he wished to visit. The beetle flew out of its mouth and the man took back his form. When he wished to leave, he turned back into the beetle and the deer carried him away. By now, the pact is likely dissolved. That is all I know of him."

"I do not know his name, but now he knows of me, for I've sought out the passing of his steps on the land and the air and robbed him of this day's uncertainty. He will notice such things."


"I will not hunt him for you, nor will I stop you from doing so. Be careful when you find him. He believes himself able of stealing your crown and facing whatever you send after him. This could mean nothing - or everything."

Noma looked down and stood up.

"I will leave now. Fire at me if you must."

She started walking away, down the path.


----------------------------------------------------

Rahir startled in his hiding place, miles away from the elf-realm. The soil echoed his footsteps, far back, to the crossing of the water. Someone had jarred words into his past. Someone sought out his passing.

He kicked the smashed remains of the Queen's crown under some leaves. He had already pried the gems loose and the metal was just dead weight. The gems were too, but he could still use those.

He turned his grey eyes back to the figure of the hooded man, walking briskly through the snow. Pressing concerns, he reminded himself.
He followed on, wondering if they were after the same thing - and if he would need to simplify matters soon. He hated getting flanked by foes.

A small clearing lay ahead, a good place as any. He traced the hilt of his dagger, still in the scabbard. Confrontation, first of many.

Rahir quickened his pace.

 

Malar ambled his way through some sparse scraggly spruce. Their withered trunks and clawed branches cast ominous shadows in the later day. The majority of Malar’s attention was placed on the ground, the track was becoming clear again. His prey hadn’t gotten far.

He spotted many slips and falls, and a patch of blood. It was dried, but barely. Malar grinned, and picked up the pace. He casually glanced behind him, the rocky outcropping to his left. The jumble of massive stones were the perfect cover, even Malar couldn’t see anything amiss. He could only feel it, and he wasn’t looking forward on entering the small clearing that bordered the stones.

****

Farguah scrambled up the rocks, his bare knees bled from banging painfully against jagged edges. His thin hair lay wet and stuck to his old parchment yellow skin. He knew he was after him again, he had smelled him two hours before. Barely two sunrises ago he had been nearly on top of him, but then he simply vanished. Farguah thought he was saved, that he had been let go. The icy frost of the Orsraun peaks was sure to kill him, but with them he had a chance. A chance to meet his young ones, he hug his wife.

He slipped and fell, bashing his had against a stone. Darkness and her face came to his mind.

“Maira…” He slumped and didn’t feel the ground rushing up to hit him.

 

Stars wheeled overhead, and the ground below him flew by like an ancient merry-go-round. Thoughts came and went inside the hollowed mind, diving and lunging at his conscience as a hawk with its prey. Magic had taken so much control over the flesh and bones that the mind, too, has succumbed to its thirst. Vaa'iyl needn't make a single conscious thought as he traveled over country, mountain and plain - the Oèl, a name given to the everlasting Hunger and Thirst for Magic, had become his mind, personality, thoughts, desires, needs - his entire being. Though, this case was an odd one; Oèl more commonly appeared in grand magi and wizards during their painful transition from mortal to immortal - lichdom.

A memory tugged at his conscience, its tattered remains billowing in the unseen wind. Vaa'iyl blinked slowly as an inferno raged below him, ripping through the smoky forest like a ferocious wolf, consuming all. The waiting memory continued to pull and tug. Extending his arms to the east and west, the broken creature lowered himself into the blaze, muttering Old words and phrases, allowing the searing white light to repossess his already silver eyes. Silence came as a wave, quieting all but the crackling of the surrounding underbrush and trees. The memory frantically took hold, and the burning land around him swirled into a different place - some time ago; a bird's eye view of a dusty, quiet street on a late summer's evening.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

A slender elf stood, not much taller than an average human, looking up from the filthy stone steps at a chestnut door from which a nervous, cracking voice resonated.

"You.. You're not welcome here, you know. I.. My lord has told me of your deeds, and your past.. And, I'm right sorry, sir, but I really feel you shou--"

"Please, Lazharr, enough of this." Elwithral interjected quite sharply, "I've been on my feet for absolutely ages, and they are feeling positively ghastly - and I can't imagine they smell much better, but who is to say. Ellesime and I are, put quite simply, weary travelers who require a place of adequate accommodation to adequately accommodate our adequate needs and requests. " A rather high-pitched chuckle escaped from the broad mouth, ivory teeth gleaming in the evening light. The shimmering golden eagle perched on his shoulder let out a soft cry, reinforcing the jovial elf's statement. "This is.. if I am not completely mistaken, an establishment of the aforementioned nature?"

Lazharr looked quite sheepishly through the spy-hole, teetering on tip-toes as the smooth timbre voice seemed to float through the century-old chestnut and pierce his mind. Hesitation clouded the man's thoughts, but seemed to clear when the questioning traveler spoke in his strange, though familiar accent. Two sets of eyes rested on his own beady pair, both seeming like a sentient being, much more than he.

"Yes, well.. I am mighty sorry, sir," Lazharr's tone had somewhat brightened, "But I've got me orders. My master.. well, I'm not sure.. but he acted awful frightened when he heard you was coming around! Said summat 'bout regrets, an' past mistakes and whatnot. Went on a rant, he did - I only just heard them words, he was half speakin' in tongues!" The man stopped, suddenly unsure of why he would, without much uncertainty, share seemingly vital information about his long-time master. The white-blue eyes of the stranger bored unblinkingly into his own, and a twitch of a smile appeared on the thin lips.

".. Do go on, Lazharr, I am much intrigued by this. What is it your master has said about me? Please, spare me not the gritty details." Still, the eyes stared, a crazed look hiding faintly behind the dilated pupils. The gleaming teeth reappeared, though this time seeming more clenched - almost holding something back. "I do so long for his long-winded rants and lengthy tales." The tone in the speech had changed - still smooth and jovial, yet almost sharpened.

The change in demeanor triggered something inside of the servant, though at the time he couldn't quite place his finger on it. In fact, he meant to open the door and admit the forbidden guest, though he knew quite well it was against his master's wishes - yet all he could think of was the striking face of he who stood just beyond the door. Lazharr found his voice again, "Of course, sir. Well, why don't I let you in right now, so you can go up and see him yourself?" The words were forced out as if being whipped by some silent slaver. Lazharr knew he just had done something terribly harmful to his now shortened future, but could not consciously focus on it. Fumbling for the keys, a force suddenly energized his limbs, causing him to stop stammering and quivering and grab the proper key. He jammed it in the lock. The door swung open.

"Thank you, my love." Milky light burned from the elven traveler's eyes and a quick jab into the air sent Lazharr the servant crashing into the far wall of the dodgy Inn. Letting the dust settle, he stepped into the flickering candle light. Chairs and tables could be heard moving on the second floor, muffled voices yelling back and forth - at least five men, Elwithral could discern. The golden mail covering his chest and abdomen glinted in the candlelight, as if it had caught the Sun's gaze. A silken, alabaster cloak framed the broad chest and shone with the Moon's intensity, dragging slightly on the dusty paneled floor. An Elven-made brooch clasped the cloak at his collarbone, gleaming with inlaid emeralds and foreshadowing the design of his greaves and gloves.

"Darren.. Please.. This is getting tiresome, is it not?" His voice rang through the thin-walled building. All was silent above now, the only noise the growling wind outside. "You know of my intentions." For the first time, Ellesime moved from her perch upon his shoulder. Without hesitation, she flew quite silently around the room, as if her grand wingspan adapted in proportion to the amount of space available. Still, only silence was returned. Elwithral raised an eyebrow and accompanied it with a sharp sigh. His eyes now ablaze with silvery fire, the aasimar widened his stance and moved his armored arms above him, as if to grab or pull something towards him. Dolschlan siirinala buineru kyujunsi! The words sounded as if they were bellowed from the heavens, and a terrible crashing sound was heard above, followed quickly by several cries of pain.

Moving his arms in a circular motion, he called, "You promised me the Codicil of White. I will tell you that I've not received it yet," Strain came into his voice as the circles became wider and faster, "And now, I've come to retrieve the item that is rightfully mine, and find out what the delay was.. as kind of a follow-up. So, if you please.. come.. down.. NOW!" He threw his arms towards the floor and at that instant five men burst through the ceiling and landed in a pile of debris around him. Again, the aged celestial let the dust settle before speaking - not being the type to jeopardize the understanding of his targets. His eyes settled upon the beady green eyes that so matched Lazharr's, staring back at him from beneath fat eyelids and bushy brows.

"Ah, Darren. Sending your son to act as your servant was quite amusing, I must say - you would think that after dealing with one of my power, you would know to perhaps.. Oh, I don't know. Hire someone capable of resisting my power, or at the very least.. not mate with some Bloodless *****." He spat the words, knowing their venom would hit the proper target. "Or perhaps you meant for me to see that he was your son, and take pity on you or him. .. Seems to have got you far."

"You.. you've killed my only son... All over some useless book!" The small, pudgy man's words were choked out from between sobs, "The pages are empty, Elwithral! I.. I was.. afraid, to tell you - I thought you might take it badly if.. all your efforts were in vain.. I .. I was thinking of a way --"

Elwithral's ever-present smile vanished in an instant, "Be silent. The point here, you miserable little man, is that you thought. To risk sounding too cliché, I did not pay you to think. I did not pay you to keep information from me. I did not pay you to drink your filthy little ass off and **** a decaying dead-beat, paving the way for a useless illegitimate child. And I certainly did not pay you to go into hiding for sixty-three years, attempting to shake me from your trail!" The aasimar's face became rigid and angled, his hand raising in front of him, as if he were holding the man by his neck. A twitch of his fingers and the twisted man was ripped from beneath the rubble, floating just two feet from the spellcaster. His calm demeanor returned and an eerie smile crept onto his lips, "Who am I, Darren?"

The man's shining eyes darted around the room, his airway restricted as the magic held him in place. He spluttered, "The.. The Light." Elwithral nodded, as if for him to go on; the same eerie smile painted onto his pale skin. "Disguised Chaos, some.. some call you. Others.. The L-Lost Angel." Bloody spittle sprayed from his cracked, red lips.

"Correct, dear man. Correct. Do you know how I came to these titles?"

"Uh.. Uh, well.. Well, I guess I do not, Elwithral.. No, I do not."

"It is because I am feared. Did you know that Elminster himself is said to fear me? Even Drizzt, that insufferable Drow whelp, avoids angering me." Pausing thoughtfully, he watched Ellesime circle the room for a time - almost completely entranced by the eagle's allure. "It is because they fear me. They fear what I will do.. They fear what I am at liberty.. to become. Do you realize this, now that I have cleared it up for you, Darren?"

"Yes." The spluttering had stopped and the man hung weightlessly in the air.

"Grand," He said flatly, tightening his hold on the injured man and bringing him in closer to then whisper, "Does anyone fear you, Darren? Does anyone hush your name and call you Legend? Does anyone fear you, Darren?" The suspended man barely shook his head - he would be gone soon. "Perhaps your wife, if she knows naught at all.. In the bedroom, perhaps? I do doubt it though, a man of your stature." Again, he paused.

"Have you learned from this, Darren?" A nod. "Well. I will leave you, then." The man dropped to the floor. Elwithral quickly conjured a ball of fire between his palms and tossed it at the corpse of Lazharr, engulfing the body in magical flames. The fire licked at the hanging tapestries on the wall, and soon the ceiling had caught.

And as he turned to leave he added, "Oh, and Darren; This is your final challenge. I give you your life, and now its your time to take command and save your own life. Use your own power. As for the book, I've no need of it now - I just thought I'd teach you something. Good luck." And at that, the gleaming aasimar turned and stalked into the newly birthed night, his avian companion in close company.


* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

The fires swirled back into focus and sound returned, deafening Vaa'iyl temporarily. Orange and white flames circled him and the warmth started to return to his skin - the wards were wearing off. The morning had come, and a blue sky could be seen through the thick, charcoal smoke. His scarlet scarf billowed in the blustering air, and as quickly as he had began, he returned to the skies. Reliving memories like this was the only way for the Broken elf to keep them - he had developed a spell at the beginning of his Oèl that let him watch randomly selected memories in an effort to keep them at the fore-front of his mind. In the end, it had contributed to his downfall. Being forced to not only remember all of his mistakes and decisions but relive them had taken a mighty toll on what was left of his conscience.

Above the smoke, Vaa'iyl continued flying - this time with a destination in mind.

 

The elves spoke among themselves, quickly and silently.

"So you would just let a thief go free?" *Noma heard behind her back, but didn't turn around*

"Strange company for you to keep, Justice." *someone had said*

Noma stopped. That was true. Try or not, there were still Laws and those bound to them. She did not have the freedom of this choice. She didn't want it. Traveling with Justice had been the only trail to the cure she had. The only way home. That was her duty.

Duty. Another whisper from the past. Another echo. The voice of her dead lord, speaking of things that would never be.

"I will do what my loyalties demand." *she said quietly, waiting to hear Justice's reply.*



-------------------------------------------------------



Rahir exhaled slowly, waiting until the beating of his heart slowed, hands pressed against the stone. He watched the man enter the clearing, a touch surprised to see him turn and gaze his way, almost as if he could see him, though he knew that was impossible.

He frowned, trying to remember who he was today. Sometimes, the shift was a touch troublesome. He believed in Ash. In the futility of fire. In reforming of land and stone. He reached for that belief.
"Altered, but not erased, vibrating softly. Here and there. Now and then. Twin faced. A soul taking two shapes, pushed by fire, pulled by defiance. Refusing to be unmade."
Coming of Ash, that heralds the Stone.

He could smell fire, although the air was so cold that there couldn't be one. The flames entered his lungs, with the freezing air. He exhaled, slowly, sending Ash into the stone. A ripple in the earth, black and shimmering, expanding outwards, sent to ensnare and hold still his prey. It washed over the clearing, bearing the scent of ashes.

Rahir climbed swiftly over the stone, drawing his dagger. There was no blade, only the blackened hilt, and a thin trail of ashes, carried in the wind.

He leaped forward, not waiting to see if his snare had caught its prey. Ash lasted only while he moved.

 

"My god and my people are no longer connected with this world, yet I remain, as does chaos and injustice. I will seek it out, and put it to right when I can. Here a great theft has occurred, and I would be remiss not to try to rectify it." Justice turned to Noma, "Noma, I will understand if you do not want to hunt your tribesman, but please understand that I must. As criminals do not always present themselves to be judged, tracking them down is one of the things that I am skilled at."

"Good, I see that at least you live up to your name, but I am coming with you, I am Beyorial." The grey cloaked elf put his hood down to reveal a shock of white hair and a gaunt face.

Justice nodded at the elf. "Then we go. Will you continue to accompany me, Noma? I must admit I believe I would miss you if you did not."

 

Dalamar swept his splendid widebrimmed hat from his head as he burst through the massive portal. He tossed the hat so that it spun and landed perfectly on a nearby torch. The flanking guards swords did not leave their sheathes not because of lack of trying. Dalamar's bare head was smooth and reflected the many candles clustered in the massive room. His light boots rung unnaturally loud on the delicate porcelain tiles. A grand mosaic depicting the Dawn Age, the age were dragons gave their wisdom to the humanoids of Toril. He wore only a short vermillion vest, red linen pants popular in Calishman at the time, and a birght blue balaclava covering his neck. He made his way loudly to the visibly frightened man sitting on a large cushion, surrounded by young naked women.

"Ah, my good friend Ahilja." Dalamar's voice crooned. "It's been too long."

"Not long enough, my friend, not long enough." Pasha Ahilja, sniffed a small ring on his index finger.

"Tut, tut, tut. Not you too. Lotus is a very powerful drug, said to deteriorate the brain. You are what they say 'digging your own grave'." Dalamar had made his way to the bottom of the raised dais where Ahilja sat. Many of the women were simply lying there, their mind was lost to the drug.

"Speak what it is that you want, and leave in peace." The pasha grumbled. He raised his hand to strike a girl who reached for a small pile of powder on a pedestal, but nearly fainted when Dalamar was beside him breaking his wrist.

"I merely came to visit my dear friend," Dalamar whispered into the crying man's ear. "But you are correct, I am in need of your..... what's the word. Your abilities." Dalamar licked the man's ear, and pushed him back on to his cushion. He grabbed one girl by her hair and tossed her like a leaf against the far off wall.

"Leave us!" He whispered, but every corner heard him. Most scattered quickly, others were forcibly moved by Dalamar's boot.

He returned his attention to the huddling man, and grabbed a handful of powder. Dalamar held Ahilja's bearded face close to his own, grinning wickedly all the time. "I need information quickly, and you will get it for me." He stood up holding the crime lord in one hand, and slapped him with a fistful of powered Lotus."That shouldn't be that hard, now should it?" He licked his thumb and wiped a smear of powder from the whimpering man's cheek.

"You have three hours to find everything you can about a man named Sulino Farduca. He is here in Calishman, and he..... interests me." Dalamar finished by dropping the man, and catching his hat as it zoomed towards him.

His loud boots walked away, leaving the sobbing man on his dais.

 

Malar turned and saw the man running towards him, and felt the tingling in his toes. He did not move, nor did he react until the man was nearly upon him. Then he leaped, high into the air. He landed a dozen paces away from the man, touching down lightly on his toes. He held out his hands, showing they were empty.

"I am but an old weary traveler young man," Malar spoke evenly, not showing weakness nor aggression. "I have nothing to give you, and will give you nothing. You will leave, and you will live. I am feeling merciful today." Malar removed his hood and tuque baring his face and tattoos. "I give you thirty seconds," his eyes lingered a second on the dagger the man carried. "After that we shall see."

 

Vaa'iyl spotted it, between two far-off mountains and beside a grove of ancient spruce - his destination. There sat the most quaint summer cottage one could imagine in this area of the World; a thin, blue trail of smoke drifting lazily from its brick-red chimeney. Beneath him, a caravan trail snaked its way as far as his Gifted eyes could see. The Oèl could tell that someone of power was close - someone familiar. The plane-touched elf felt his feet landing lightly onto soft wheatgrass, not a league from the old cabin, sending a cool breeze spiralling over the hilltop, tossing his ivory cowl aside. The scars edging his hairline and brow tingled as the Sun's gaze caught their shine, gleaming silver and gold. The scarlet of his ever-present scarf reflected a mildly manaical light upon his pale face. With eyes transfixed on the distant cottage, Vaa'iyl reached inside his cloak, unearthing a small alabaster figurine. The cuts in the marble-like substance were flawless and unparalleled - a feline-canine, or vice versa Vaa'iyl sometimes described her as. Long, wide ears sat on either side of a small oval-shaped skull; large, black eyes made from lava-rock lead to the tiny red nose.

"Come, Alessandra - I've a need to speak with you." His voice was not so smooth now - a rough edge had crept into it after years of harboring the Oèl. Age had noticeably affected Vaa'iyls former oratory skills. The voice still carried well, as each syllable felt like a gust of wind, but the honesty of ignorance had vanished - passion lacked, and direction varied. Seemingly seconds after the last sound had escaped Vaa'iyl's mouth, the small creature blinked twice and leapt from the elf's outstretched fingers. By the time Alessandra had reached the ground, she had grown to her full size - similar to that of a golden retriever. A bemused expression stained her face.

Images of the dishala frolicking and playing in the grass suggested to Vaa'iyl that she would enjoy doing so as soon as possible. She did not speak much Common as a denizen of the Astral Sea - but rather communicated psionically, using emotions and images to illustrate her views. Vaa'iyl often skipped out on trying to translate his own speech and simply spoke out loud, letting the creature respond in her own kind.

"Not now, love, we've something ahead - Mighty familiar, eh? I can taste it.. A close, neutral power.." The elf blinked twice thoughtfully and glanced towards Alessandra's grassy seat.

An old friend. Interfere. Sad. Red hat. Wisdom? A fool. Here?

A pause, "Ah.. Well, I don't suppose it would be.. Couldn't hurt to see, though, eh? We've not much else to do." The last sentence weighed heavily on his tongue. A short chuckle barked from behind the gleaming teeth.

Orsraun. Darkness. Power. Hunger. Oèl. Stop or go. Finish. Stay close. Feeling?

The black eyes seemed endless as Vaa'iyl's own stared unblinkingly. Glancing up, he began to walk smoothly down the rutty trail, motioning for the creature to follow. What could only be described as a sigh could be heard from the creature as the long, three-bladed tail swung weightlessly above her.

 

Noma looked up. Carefully, she withdrew the Belief. Better keep it for when it was needed.

"I will come as well, Justice. If you find him, you needn't doubt my loyalties."

She smiled to Beyorial, genuinely friendly. "Welcome along. Sorry about your ribs."
The elf shot her a cold glare. Noma sighed.

"This should be fun."

She started down the path, hoping the other two knew where they should be going, for she was far from being a tracker.


-------------------------------------------------

Rahir paused as well, tipping his head to one side, then another, considering. His irises were grey and cracked, near shedding. It gave his face a cruel note. He shook his head, twirling the empty hilt in his hand, amused.

"I want nothing of you really, you are merely on a trail I'm following. Suffice to say, I need the liver of the creature on the other end. If you have nothing to do with it, stand aside, and we can part strangers as we met. Otherwise, let us indeed see."

Rahir wore no gloves and the back of his hands were tattooed, picturing an eye over the fingers and the rest of the face on the clear, pale skin of his hands. He was around thirty, muscular, nimble, in plain, inconspicuous clothing. No armour in sight. A trail of blackened ash whirled around the soles of his boots. He smiled, which twitched his skin in an unnatural manner.

A thin trail of ashes whirled to the skies, carried in the wind.

 

Malar's gaze was held on the man for quite some time, his black eyes did not glint in the sun. He studied the man for quite some time, pondering whether to kill him or not. The old Dalamar would have in an instant merely because he was there, but Malar tried to be a more reasonable citizen of Toril. He rolled his tongue in his mouth slowly, biding his time.

He did not trust the man, nor did he like his appearance. He was too cocksure and had revealed his purpose too quickly, either young or stupid. He held magical properties that Malar was not familiar with, but he was overly interested. Magic was a luxury he tried to avoid; he had seen it's negative effects on his companion. When he spoke his voice was heavy and icier then the wind screaming in his ears.

"It is a cold day to be out on your own young one," Malar's abyssal black eyes held no friendly concern. "Apple?" He used no magic, but the apple appeared in his hand, as did his knife in the other. Malar did not need magic his hands were fast enough. As he sliced the apple in two, the other half sped towards the man.

Malar grinned as the man caught it, and scratched his cold skull. His knife had returned to its sheath behind his back, his cloak barely moved. As he spat out apple seeds, his eyes returned to the man's tattoos. He couldn't place them, but they looked familiar. He scourged his mind for a moment, but gave it up as a trivial matter.

He turned to leave without another word spoken, still grinning widely. How lucky the man was, he would never know. For Dalamar the Dark, the Legend, once would have ripped his soul out with leisure.

Malar shook that thought away, he was now Malar the Hunter of no acclaim. For four centuries tales of the Dark had become myths and legends, now they were barely remembered at all.

He walked away from the man, whistling a millennium old marching tune. Content with the knowledge that he was now a “nobody”.