Tyvelron

[Kaze]

Alright, this is a fantasy tale that I began writing some time ago, but which kind of let slide for too much time. It was initially written in my native tongue, so I tried to translate it as best as I could. I'm only posting one third of the first chapter, entitled Celsior. If anyone's interested I'll post the rest.




Celsior



It was the raining quietly over the rooftops of the city’s outskirts. The houses were so crammed up that they resembled life-size insect hives and the human figures that could be seen scurrying around them added to the realism. From the clouds the Common City looked as vivid as it had always been, and that was a trait that Celsior had always liked about that city. He walked those streets with the weight of old age upon his shoulders, slowly turning the corners facing nearly complete darkness. The only things that brought light were the torches lit inside the houses of the peasants. Celsior didn’t really care for nighttime trips, and he would have rather remained inside his dwelling, the Sky Fortress of the gods, Forsling, but he had pressing matters to attend to, and there was no one who could do it for him.

He could feel his legs slowly erode little by little from under him, almost as if he was a piece of marble slowly wearing off into the night. The Common city had never seemed to huge to him and the distance that separated him from his destination was so great that he half expect himself to fall onto the ground halfway through, crippled by a blinding surge of pain around his knees. He looked up to the skies and let the rain cover his cloak protected face.

It’s risky, he thought. But I can’t waste the night walking.

He uttered a few words and the next thing he knew he was swept down with the rain. He felt his body lose its solid shape and turn into a sort of liquid being. The Water Body Form was a spell he had picked up from one of the old mages of the Order, back when he was still the Archmage of the Common City’s tower and the mages were still mages; now a new breed of spell casters was in control. Sorcerers they called themselves, and raw power was their aim. Celsior traveled almost effortlessly through the city, his liquid body merging with the drops of rain as if they were a part of him, until he reached the old tower of the Order, now called The Rise. Along with the royal keep it was the largest and by far the most impressive structure of the city. From its pinnacle one could see even the Fields of Durn and the mountain range of K’sam.

The Common city had belonged to the Dekars family since it was only a small village of hunters and gatherers, now it was the largest settlement on the island of Tyvelron. The village had stretched out over the hilly area where it had been founded, and reached out to the edge of the Fields of Durn, swallowing up any other settlements in its way. Eventually Dein Dekars, the oldest recorded king, fortified the city and conquered the Fields, thus creating the Dekariath. The domain remained in the possession of the Dekars family for many centuries, after which it was conquered by the orcs, who had taken advantage of the Mage Order’s destruction. For nearly 300 hundred years the Dekariath remained occupied by the orcs, the populace practically becoming little more than slaves, until Asaph Dekars, the current king, had conquered it, nearly 20 years ago. The royal keep, destroyed during the initial invasion, was then rebuilt and the city was renamed to the Common City, due to the alliance pact that Asaph had made with the surrounding populations

Celsior knew that city’s story well. He had lived there for nearly half a century, and finding himself under the shadow of the old Order’s tower was a nostalgic experience. It’s a sad fate that it shall be torn down by the very man that helped build it, he thought bitterly. He turned back into his physical form and walked down to the main gates. Three men stood by it, the guards. Celsior moved his hand slightly, as if motioning to someone to stop. The rain ceased to fall.

“Hey, old man!” They called out, noticing Celsior’s physical frailty. ”What’re you doin’ here at this time of night? Don’t you know it’s dangerous for old cripples like to be walking out alone like this?”

Celsior gazed at them for a few moments and then said: “What I must do here is none of your concern.” He began to step forward, his arm muscles contracting as he readied himself for action. The rain began to fall again. He awaited only the guards’ charge, and then, he would be only one standing.

“Ah, Celsior,” the voice of a young man rang out from behind the gates. “You’ve arrived earlier than expected.”

“You were waiting for me?” Celsior asked alarmed.

“The presence of one such as you cannot be ignored, “said the young man calmly as the gates opened from the inside. “My master wishes to speak with you. I shall lead you to him.”

Celsior relaxed his arms and walked down besides the young man. As he passed by the guards he pointed back to them and asked: “What are you going to do about them?”

“They shall be taken care of.” Killed for the sake of secrecy, thought Celsior.

“Very well,” he replied while walking with the other. After a while Celsior put his right hand on his shoulder and said: “Since you know my name, may I ask for yours?”

The young man seemed rather embarrassed and swiftly answered: “Oh, forgive me, I’ve forgotten my manners. My name is Harias and I am one of Urias’ novices. Pleased to meet you.”

Celsior’s muscles contracted again. “I, however, am not.” His hands then exploded into fiery forms of their former state, the left reaching for the novice’s throat, and the right retracting in preparation of the killing blow. Harias could do nothing as he looked at the ball of fire forming in Celsior’s right hand. He gave his executioner one more look, just before the fireball turned him into a smoldering heap of ash.

Celsior smiled coldly and continued walking the small stone paved path that would lead him to the tower’s entrance.

[SHiKaMaRi]

o.O That's actually an awesome story you have there, kaze_mizu! Very interesting, etc.

..Post more please?

[Kaze]

Lol, thanks, glad you liked it. Anyway here's part 2 of 3.



............
The rain began to fall again as Celsior walked towards the tower. He shifted his view from side to side, vigilantly scanning the surrounding area for any signs of enemies. He was nearing the Order’s barracks, a large circular building structured around the tower that provided lodging to a company of the Dekeriath’s soldiers, wisely assigned there by the king, and he did not want to fight needlessly. When asked about violence Celsior would reply that he abhorred it, quite a hypocritical statement from one who excelled at killing, but he never hesitated to add that if necessary he wouldn’t think twice before using it, the result of many years of scheming and adventuring throughout the realm. He reached its wooden gates shortly after seeing it. I can’t open them through force, he thought. that’d alarm the soldiers and I want to avoid another blood bath. It looks like it can’t be helped. Celsior raised one of his arms and, almost instantly, a thin funnel of wind formed within his grasp. He grabbed onto it and prepared himself for flight, but as his feet lifted off the ground, the wooden gates of the barracks opened. Celsior let got of the strand of wind.

Three men were behind the gates, all of them very tall with protruding foreheads. For a moment they seemed disoriented as they noticed the absence of Harias, the novice. “Where is our brother, Harias? He was sent out to meet you.” They asked in a choir.

Celsior smiled ironically. “He is keeping one of my friends company. Perhaps you know him: Keldan, the Lord of the Red Mountain.” He said that knowingly that according to tradition The Red Mountain was the place where the souls of the dead went.

The other three did not try to hide their anger in any way. “We were four,” they began. “just as the elements, but now you have taken Air from us, all that remains is fire, water and earth. However, despite us being three, we shall kill you just as easily.”

“I believe I should say that,” said Celsior mockingly. “But never mind, I will kill you just the same. So you were saying…a pyromancer, a geomancer, and hydromancer? Good.”

Celsior began chanting the incantations of his attack spells, and as soon as he had finished three spherical shaped balls of energy were floating around him. One of them took the shape of a flame, another became of stone, and the last one turned into a mass of water. The others responded in kind.

The pyromancer launched his fireball towards Celsior, who countered the attack with his own fireball. Celsior’s fire attack proved to be too strong for the pyromancer, whose fireball was overwhelmed by the intensity of Celsior’s. The other two sent their own elementals attack against the old mage, who simply stood his ground, and observed the movements of incoming attacks. He raised a hand upwards, and the stone ball took flight up into the sky, while the hydro ball expanded itself into a water shield, protecting Celsior from the other attacks. The water shield then molded itself back into a sphere and went flying directly towards the hydromancer. The Pyromancer then sent a rapid volley of fireballs at the hydro sphere in an attempt to stop it. Seeing this Celsior moved his left hand outwards forming a semicircle. The hydro sphere released a smaller version of itself from its mass, which formed an outer protective layer meant to fend off the fireballs. The pyromancer’s fire attack proved useless and the hydro ball continued its trajectory directly hitting the enemy hydromancer. The water ball then instead of dispersing itself, gathered in a small stream and forcibly inserted itself into the mouth and consequently into the lungs of the sorcerer. He fell to the ground drowning. Seeing that, the geomancer began channeling an elemental shield in front of them to protect the pyromancer as he tried to extract the water from their brother’s lungs.

“It’s useless,” said Celsior, after which he raised and lowered his right hand as if ordering an arrow volley. The elemental stone shaped ball sent into the sky then broke itself apart into many sharpened shards and began to plummet to the ground, aimed at the remaining sorcerers. The impact with the ground caused a small earthquake and raised a great amount of dust. They’re dead, thought Celsior as he stepped forward. He cleared the dust with a blast of air. The three sorcerers lay lifelessly side by side, nailed to the ground by stone needles as if they were insects.

[SHiKaMaRi]

o.O Very detailed! Wicked abilities they have there! Great work, update the next bit soon!

[Kaze]

Alright, this is part 3 of 3. Chapter one is done.



--------------------
Celsior walked past the gates stepping quickly as to not lose any time. His plan had to be carried out quickly and he couldn’t linger, especially around the barracks. But where are the soldiers? He thought. The barracks is empty. Urias is planning something, curse that man.

“You! Intruder!”

Celsior looked to his right and saw another group of sorcerers coming towards him.

“Begone!” He yelled. “I don’t have time for the likes of you!” With that he began to move his right arm about, drawing an imaginary spiral. Wind, come forth,he growled under his breath. Right before there eyes strands of wind began to descend from the clouds, swiftly wrapping themselves around Celsior’s arm. With that, he stretched it forward and the wind slowly took the shape of a hand.

“Such insolence will not be tolerated in the core of lord Urias’ domain,” said one of the four sorcerers just before creating a large ball of fire. The other three stretched their hands towards it, and the ball grew in size and intensity. “With this, we shall purge you from this world,” they said almost ceremoniously, after which they sent the fireball towards Celsior. The latter waited until it was close enough to handle then he stretched out his air stream made hand deflected the fireball into the barracks, then continuing to stretch it until the four sorcerers were within his reach.

“You cannot even conceive my power, you conceited little fools. Tonight Urias shall see that he was not wrong to fear me so.” The wind arm divided itself into four smaller arms, each of them grabbing the throat of a sorcerer. They immediately began twitching and writhing under the iron clutches of Celsior’s spells, but not matter how hard they tried the wind arms remained attached to their necks, slowly choking the life out of them. Celsior looked elsewhere for the duration of the spell; killing was one thing, but torturing was another. The movements of the sorcerers gradually began to slow down, finally stopping altogether.

Certain of their death, Celsior released the arm and walked to the inner gate of the barracks, the one that would lead him the Rise. He looked up to it and noticed that it bore the traditional S rune, in honor of the first archmage, Ssarn. Does this man’s insolence never end? Celsior didn’t think twice before igniting the air around the gate, setting it aflame. Within moments nothing but smoking ashes remained of it. Celsior was just about to step over it, but for some reason his movements froze. He couldn’t move a muscle.

“Celsior, you’ve finally come!” He heard a familiar voice yell.

“Urias!” Celsior blurted out.

“Yes, I,” replied the voice almost mockingly. “It ends tonight, Celsior. You’ve run out of pieces to move around the board.”

“Oh? And since where were we playing chess? I always assumed this was war.”

“You can name it what you wish. This conflict ends now. Move in, men.” Suddenly groups of soldiers began pouring out of the barracks. They were waiting there for me? How clever.

“Do you really think you can take the king only with pawns?” Said Celsior as he checked the strength of the elemental restraints placed upon him.

“I do, if the king can’t move,” replied Urias in a matter-of-fact way as the soldiers surrounded Celsior.

“You were always too presumptuous for your own good, Urias.” He said as a small circle of ice was formed around him. “I don’t need freedom of movement to defend myself.” The air within the circle looked as if it was condensing. “I only need freedom of thought – that’s how powerful I am.” The air concentrated itself into one spot, shaping itself into a small sphere of ice.

“The first one of you who moves dies,” stated Celsior. In reply, Urias motioned to the soldiers to continue. One of the soldiers advanced, and as soon as he stepped foot inside the circle, the sphere went of flying towards him. The soldier, however, raised his shield, and the tiny sphere was stopped. Elemental enchantments, thought Celsior. Urias let out a low, harsh laugh.

“I will not die here, Urias! I won’t,” he yelled angrily, but Urias merely continued to laughed as the soldiers advanced, their swords raised and shields readied. Ice, thought Celsior, Ice. The wind began to blow powerfully around Celsior, forming a spiral of cold within the circle of ice. The soldiers’ movements then became slower, but they still advanced. Ice, I need it. Ice! I want it, I, Celsior of the Sky Fortress – I WANT ICE! The wind then turned into a blizzard so powerful that even Celsior couldn’t see anything as it ravaged the area around him. He could feel icicles form on his face and robes, the very air around him was slowly becoming denser.

Urias frowned in a defeated way. “Enough,” he yelled, and the blizzard died out. Behind it there was only Celsior, and a multitude of statues made of ice shaped as warriors.

“I told you, Urias, that you couldn’t take the king only with pawns,” said Celsior breathing heavily, after which he tapped one foot on the ground, and the frozen soldiers collapsed into pieces.

Urias began playing with his beard, a habit which meant that he was losing his patience. “Then, Celsior, I shall have to make you bow down to me.”

Celsior trembled slightly. He knew Urias' power very well, having trained him himself, and he knew that once enraged that man could bring forth such intensity that even the Red Mountain would shake. Even worse, he was inside his domain, and he was subjected to the rules that Urias deemed useful to himself. “I bow to no one, Urias.” The two men were now face to face. Celsior looked into Urias’ fiery eyes as if carrying out an imaginary battle. This went on for a while, until Urias’ eyes literally were aflame, and Celsior turned his vision elsewhere.

“You’re weak, Celsior,” said Urias, and then he poured all of his power into one fist which he sent flying into Celsior’s body. The latter barely managed to raise a small elemental shield, but despite that, he was still sent flying backwards. Urias wasn’t going to give Celsior any time to breathe. He sent out a fireball towards him, but by the time it reached him, Celsior strengthened his shield and the ball of fire rebounded back towards Urias, who skillfully grabbed it with his right hand and formed into a fiery whip, which he then used to perform more precise attack. Seeing that, Celsior shouted out Lightning, and the element materialized itself into his hand, launching it just before Urias attacked. The lighting bolt hit Urias’ leg, causing him to fall to the ground. Another bold was sent, but this time Urias deflected it with an elemental shield, after which he sent the fireball back towards Celsior, but it was deflected again, this time by an ice disc, which made it way towards Urias. He rolled to one side barely avoiding it, and then he turned around and stretched out his right hand. Drawing an imaginary semicircle he took control of the ice disc and sent it flying towards Celsior, who, strengthening his fists with a shield, hit it back to the other. Urias was down again, and Celsior had the upper hand. He rose up his hands and a huge ball of fire began to form, after which he hurled it towards Urias, who, having gotten back up, seemed pleasantly surprised. As the fireball drew neared to Urias it began to slow down, finally stopping just over his shoulder.

“What? That should have killed you!”

“Fire is my dominion. The Flame is mine to command. You were a fool to try to kill me with my own element. I shall now use your own spell against you.”

Of course, thought Celsior, the fire halo.

Urias shrunk the fireball turning it into a very small sphere of flames, circling around its own axis due to the intensity. “Celsior, taste the power of the Flame.”

“Not of the flame, but of Nox,” said Celsior.

“You wouldn’t know anything about Nox,” retorted Urias, growing angrier.

”I know everything of your little pact. He’ll destroy you along with the island.”

“Then die knowing that you’ve failed.” Urias sent out the small sphere of fire, which began to hover around Celsior regardless of his elemental shield. The sphere’s speed gradually began to increase, up to a point in which it could only be distinguished as a continuous ray of light that oscillated so powerfully that Celsior thought it was going to explode. Then it began to close in on Celsior, forming smaller and smaller arcs. Urias began to laugh again. Celsior then raised his hands again, but this time he took more time, and it looked like he was under great physical stress. Slowly, a curtain of stone rose from the ground, covering him entirely. Urias let go of the sphere’s limitations and it created a much larger form of itself around Celsior’s stone shield, then it imploded around the shield, creating an explosion so powerful that it left the earth shaking. Celsior, however, was nowhere to be seen.

Seeing Celsior’s escape, Urias’ fire halo lit up so much that it made him look as if standing in the middle of a flame, a sign of great anger. “Celsior,” he roared angrily, but Celsior did not answer. Celsior! He roared again, but the only answer he received was a cold draft of wind.

[SHiKaMaRi]

o.O Terribly interesting. Wicked story. Love their techniques and all. Good work ^-^ *+reps*

[Evanesque]

Wow, tht's a nice story you got there, mizu...nice work :D

[Kaze]

I hope it was as fun reading as it was for me writing it, anyway, I'm kinda busy these days, so here's a taster from Chapter 2, Ellirt.


Ellirt






The elven lanterns were slowly dying out into the night as darkness took over the forests of the Ellkar. Ellirt Ellant was calmly observing the Ellistiary, the holy sanctuary of the druids, to which he had pledged allegiance not many years ago upon completing his training. However, he had not received that which should have been his, the Kiss of Elliste. He recalled the legend of the encounter between his father, Antiel Ellant and the goddess Elliste. Having sacrificed her human body and her freedom, the Goddess had trapped herself inside a thousand year old oak to save it from death. Her meeting with his father had been very fortuitous. The pact was simple, under her guidance the elves would become the greatest race of all, led by the druids, a formidable religious sect whose blood shared ties to Elliste herself. The only condition was that they, the druids, along with the rest of the elven race, remain in the Ellkar, never abandoning it for whatever reason, and to be always be willing to obey her will. Thus the pact was sealed. Antiel Ellant drank the sap from the Great Oak and gained powers far beyond those of any mortal man, powers that should have been passed down to Ellirt, his son, and future Archdruid.

[SHiKaMaRi]

o.O That seems very interesting. Hope you update soon ^^

[Kaze]

Ok, here's the next part of chapter 2.




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

Ellirt turned his view elsewhere for a moment. He could feel the footsteps of a man, treading slowly through the forest. He could feel the leaves break under his feet, and the trees shudder from his touch. That man’s arm had killed many. Ellirt took a few steps forward and leaned with his back to a tree, waiting for the old man’s arrival.

Celsior walked slowly through the area, making sure he let his presence know before his arrival. In his mind the memory of his battle with Urias was still clear, even after a week had past. After his failed mission at the Rise, he had come to the Ellkar to request aid from the druids. He needed a champion to fight in his name, and Ellirt Ellant was a prime candidate. He took his time maneuvering through the thick foliage of the Ellkar, but eventually he reached Ellirt.

“I greet you, young druid,” he said following etiquette.

Ellirt remained motionless, his eyes closed as if he was in deep meditation. “Why have, you, a traitor worse than any other, come here?”

“I have many important matters to discuss with you, master druid.” Celsior spoke quickly as if trying to shorten the time he needed to remain there. In some way his manner of speaking resembled that of a charlatan.

“Matters relating to Blizak, I presume,” said Ellirt dully.

Celsior’s eyes widened for a moment. “Yes, he will be the topic of our discussion.”

“Then our conversation will be short,” said Ellirt sharply.” Blizak is but a necromancer slightly more powerful that an orc shaman. Even I could destroy him.”

“You’re mistaken. Blizak never uses more power than he needs to.”

“But no matter how much power he has,” Ellirt added. “He will never be able to overcome the armies of the Ellariant Alliance. Asaph Dekars, Roden Redhoof, and the sorcerer Urias are too powerful for him. Even the mighty legions of the orcs shall bow down before the strength of the Spreading Light.”

“There is no light where the sun does not shine. And Blizak will take it away from them, and he will choke their pact into nonexistence.”

“Then they shall light a pyre, and a strong one it shall be; for the three leaders will be more than enough to destroy any curse that Blizak might perform.”

“However,” began Celsior. “A tripod will easily fall if one of its legs is missing, and one is already moving, but the other two haven’t realized it, yet. You know what that means, Ellirt.”

Ellirt opened his eyes in a gesture of surprise. He ran his hand over his chest. “Who?” He asked amazed.

“Urias,” Celsior replied almost under his breath. “He will betray them in the midst of battle, and that will make his betrayal much bitterer, and much, much more dangerous.”

“But why would a sorcerer of Urias’ power join Blizak? It’s absurd. He’d have nothing to gain.”

“Mistaken again, young druid. He would have something to gain,” said Celsior lightly. “My destruction, that is,” he added grimly.

“It seems you’ve made one two many enemies, Celsior,” commented Ellirt amusedly.

“I can handle my enemies, Ellirt. What I can’t handle is the destruction of Tyvelron.”

“And why would you care? You’ll simply continue living in Forsling.”

“Yes, that is also true, however, there are very specific rules one needs to follow when living in Forsling. My power is bound to the Sky Fortress, and the fortress itself is bound to the island. Do you understand the implications of its destruction now?”

Hearing that, Ellirt broke down into a fit of laughter. “Oh, now I see, haha. Fate is truly ironic. All your life you have cared only about power; you even destroyed an entire province, and now, you have to defend the whole of this realm or fall with it. Implications indeed! This is a duty more important than a druid’s.”

“Yes,” said Celsior darkly. “Which is why I wish to lighten the load. Listen carefully to what I have I have to tell you, Ellirt, for my words will change your destiny.”

“Change my destiny? I’m but an unaccomplished druid bereft of my rights. What could possibly change my destiny?”

“Lend me your elven ears, master druid, and I will show you the path towards a new destiny, a better one.”

“Speak then, but be quick.”

“Very well,” said Celsior in a gratified manner. “Thousands of years ago, when the world was but a great mass of land, with no rivers or seas, when the Sky Fortress of the gods had not yet been built, and the gods walked the earth as common mortals, there lived a young elf. The name given to him was Nox, which in the long forgotten tongue of the Ancients means Star-Gazer; and Nox did, in fact, love to look up to the night sky and gaze at the stars. This young elf, as few others, had an extraordinary power, which he did not use wisely (unfortunately. The other gods warned repeatedly that through the overuse of his strength he risked not only his life, but the very existence of this plane; however, Nox never really did listen to them. The years passed and he grew not only in power, but also in arrogance and pride, which is why the other gods began to fear him. The trigger of the conflict was the refusal of a goddess he had fallen in love with. Angered, Nox took her by force, and the other gods could certainly not ignore that; Nox had to be dealt with, for the safety of all. Thus the first war of the gods began, and the storms and earthquakes which ravaged it at the time shaped it into the form we see today. The very crust of earth was broken apart and shaped into smaller masses of land, the islands which compose our archipelago, and even Tyvelron. Seeing the effects of their continuous battle the gods, both on and against Nox’s side decided to end the conflict, but the young god could not accept that resolution. He attempted to kill the goddess he had fallen in love with, and he tried to destroy the very fabric of reality that composes this world. Fortunately, the other gods stopped him before he could carry out his plan, and in the end, the only one Nox ever destroyed was himself.

“I don’t understand,” interrupted Ellirt. “What has this got to do with Blizak’s invasion?”

“I’m not done, yet,” replied Celsior calmly. “In the exact moment of his death Nox’s anger, hate and malice were so great that the voices of the Callers, who should have drawn his soul into the afterlife, were ignored.”

“You don’t mean to tell me that,” Ellirt’s face was a visage of seriousness. Out of the many things he was taught as a developing druid was the refusal of Callers’ invitation, which ultimately led any living creature to rise from dead. The elves, in particular, would rise as Dark Elves, creatures of evil bent on the carrying out their vengeful will until death would be brought to them again.

“Yes, Nox rose from the dead as a dark elf, but he lost many of his powers, fortunately for us. In desperation he sought aid from the only ones that were willing to take him in: the tribes of the black orcs.” Celsior grabbed Ellirt’s shoulders in all seriousness. “And here comes the most important part, master druid. The name given to him by the orcs was Bliz’ak’nar, which in their barbaric tongue means bringer of night, however, he is more commonly known as Blizak.”

[SHiKaMaRi]

Nice <3 Excellent as always, hope you update soon, I have to say that your story is... Addictive XD

[SpongebobSquarepants]

The story is moving along great. I love the fights. I hope that you can continue writing this. It's a very great plot, cool characters, good fights. Can't wait for the next parts to come.

[Kaze]

It's good to see you're enjoying this:p Time for the next part of chapter 2.
@shikamari: you should also try Memento Mori, you might like it^_^






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“This is…most interesting; but, Celsior, no matter how powerful he used to be, now he is but a broken man living only on the desire for vengeance. He won’t be able to pose a threat in his current state.”

“Oh, no?” said Celsior slyly. “Three centuries ago the orcs took advantage of the Order’s destruction and they overran the western lands. It was Nox that led them. Do you still think he is incapable of organizing an offensive? As we speak his legions of orcs are crossing over Ruor, soon they will arrive at the K’sam Mountains, and then, they shall take the Fields of Durn. Does this seem the work of a lesser being?”

“Hmph, even so, Nox cannot-“

“Don’t tell me what he can’t and cannot do,” Celsior bellowed angrily. “His powers are returning, Ellirt; he is no common elf. He was a god and his powers were unconceivable to say the least. You couldn’t hope to defeat him. No one can. And if their plan is carried out successfully not even the full power of the gods will be able to defeat him.”

“Celsior,” said Ellirt slowly. “There is more than one person behind these events, isn’t there?”

“Yes,” answered Celsior half – spiritedly. “She is with him.” Celsior pointed towards the Ellistiary grimly and then he looked Ellirt in the eyes. “Do you want to know why you haven’t received her kiss?”

Ellirt’s eyes narrowed down to a small black dot as Celsior spoke those words, and fists were clenched so tightly that they began shaking. “Tell me…” he said, a small surge of anger in voice.

Celsior drew closer to Ellirt, always keeping his hands on his shoulders. “You, Ellirt, are no mere druid. You have been born with her blood in your veins, unlike the rest of them, who have forcibly received this gift. You are already half a god! When you receive her kiss your godhood will be complete, and, by tradition, you shall take Elliste’s place amongst the ancient lords of Forsling. That is what she afraid of. That is why you will never become a full druid if you humbly bow down to her as your father would have you do. You see, Elliste is a tyrant, and she is blinding you all with this false religion. Druidism is not a gift; it is not a balance between nature and elf. It is only what a druid can command, and what the earth may do. The more powerful you grow, the greater your command of the world around will become; Ellirt, your dominion over nature could become so great that it could encompass the island itself. Ellirt, you could become Tyvelron itself, an entire living entity subjected no laws. This is the difference between a man, and a god. A god commands, and the rest obey. I know you, Ellirt, I know that these thoughts have already occurred to you, and I can tell you that you were right to think them; however, only you will be able to convince yourself of this terrible truth, and only through other truths. Know that there are many hidden things in Tyvelron, but some are closer than you think.”

Ellirt took a good look at Celsior’s face and he saw that there was no hint of lies in his eyes; Celsior meant what he had said. For a moment he considered ignoring his speech, but those words would have remained in his head for the following day, and the day after, till the end of his life, or until he found out the truth.

“Very well,” he said faintly. “I shall speak to my father –“

“No,” said Celsior quickly. “Your father won’t lift a finger to help the Spreading Light. He is but a slave of Elliste now. He will do only what she commands, and if that isn’t a good enough reason, then know that she mustn’t be aware of our actions.”

“Then what will you do?”

“What we will do, master druid.” Celsior then walked even closer to Ellirt, and speaking into his ear, he whispered his plans to him. After he had finished Ellirt stood silent for a moment, and then said: “I must think about this. What you ask of me cannot be decided in this short a time. Give me one day and I shall tell you.”

“Very well,” said Celsior. “Then we shall meet in this place at the same hour tomorrow.” With that, Celsior turned around and began his travel out of the elven forests. Ellirt remained there for the following hour, making sure that Celsior did, in fact, leave his realm. He traced his movements for many miles, surprised that a man as old as he could move so quickly. Finally, his life force disappeared entirely from the Ellkar. Celsior had left again.

[Cheryl]

Because you requested it...

[analog]

Read the first part of the first chapter, great job so far. Keep posting more and stop being lazy :P

My favorite character = Harias

[Kaze]

Hmm, analog, a trully interesting character. I can't blame you for liking him. Lol.
Anyways, next part of chapter 2.



He couldn’t close his eyes. Celsior’s words had disturbed him so much that sleep had gone beyond his reach. The veil of darkness in front of his eyes would be brutally drawn backwards, letting the small quantity of light generated by the night sky make contact with his eyes. Ellirt began to writhe in his very comfortable elven bed. He continued to think that if he would eventually fall asleep, but any such thoughts were quickly banished by the knowledge of the impending invasion. In his mind he saw himself covered in armor, holding a bloody sword, on the fields of the Common City, before an army which seamed to flow faster than the waters of the river elves. He saw himself dispersing the waves of orcs with the strength and speed of the goods, but despite that, he could feel a shadow tightening around him, and soon enough it become so strong that it forced him to flee, but as he looked back, he saw that there was no place to hide. He was trapped.

His sword began to weigh more, his breath heavier, and his knees weaker. In little time he would be nothing but another lifeless corpse on a battlefield bathed by the blood of heroes. But the orcs stopped with no explanation, and hoped entered his heart again, but it left just as quickly when a shade took shape before his eyes. It drew closer to him, raising its hand to strike. Ellirt felt his hand pierced by a thousand icy daggers. The shade struck. That moment, he felt himself fall to ground, and when he almost felt the taste of the blood covered earth, his eyes opened, destroying the illusion of his death.

Ellirt rose troubled from his bed, feeling his forehead bathed in sweat. He walked cautiously, through the darkness of the night, to one of his lamps. He lit it hesitantly and trembled slightly as it filled his room with a pale light. When he looked around he saw the three walls of the room, his elven leaf-bed, the frame onto which he held his armor and one small mirror. He went near the armor stand, the memory of his death still fresh in his mind. He studied the frame carefully, a work of fine craftsmanship, wrought of the Ellkarian Deres. The Deres was the most common tree found in the Ellkar; the color of its wood would become progressively darker as the tree itself became older. The color of his stand was pitch black. He turned his attention to the armor. It was made of leather, its chest piece being of a light brown color, and whilst he looked towards the sleeves, the color became lighter and lighter, turning into a vivid green at the gloves. It bore no device of elven making, save for the leather bracers on which one could see a blossoming tree, whose roots were covered by fallen leaves, the symbol of nature’s everlasting youth. He touched it, but instead of feeling the fine touch of elven leather, he felt the iron cold of a heavy war armor, the same one he bore in his dream. Startled, he withdrew his hand and left the house. He walked down the pond near which his home had been built. He began to refresh his face with the cool water of the pond, but as he stretched his hands towards them, he saw his reflection, but his face lacked the vigor of the druids; it was pale and immaterial, cold. Not mine, Ellirt thought alarmed. This is the face of a dead man.

What happened during the next few moments completely paralyzed the elf. As soon as he got away from the water he took cover under the shadows of a nearby tree, convinced that not even Elliste herself could see him, but as his breath retook its normal rate, before his very eyes he could see the darkness gathering into a pool of obscurity. Ellirt watched the scene with the same feeling of being struck by a thousand frozen daggers. He kept his eyes fixed upon the shadow, observing as it took the shape of a faceless creature, with no hands or feet, but which existed, and which was moving towards Ellirt.

If he before he had dared to think that his powers exceeded those of his father, then he realized that any druidic power was useless to him. He called upon all his strength, but he could not free himself from the grasp of that terrible fear. Even when the shade was breathing in his face, and a hand, not black, but completely veiled with darkness, left the ink-like shape of the shadow creature, he could not move. The hand grasped his neck, second by second shortening his life. And then, Ellirt realized what it was that was happening to him. A victim of his fears he had become, and druids are powerful enough to subconsciously generate a true manifestation of their fears. He attempted to regain control, his heart pounding restlessly in his chest, but his efforts were in vain. The shade was going to kill him. He thought that he was going to die. He could taste his own destruction; but before he could feel it, the shade disappeared, destroyed by the first rays of light shining from above the trees.

The first feeling he had was that of calming warmth running up and down his spine, followed by the typical unearthly confidence that the druids possessed. He felt warmth penetrate his entire body, healing him of any trauma the shade might have left behind it. He remembered his encounter with Celsior and he smiled optimistically. Even if the Ellariant Alliance’s chances were small before the tide of darkness that was to come, he believed in their victory, and if they lost, well…he preferred not thinking about that.