Friday, June 26, 2009

A Faerie Tale IV

The air was lighter, a freshness began encroaching on its staleness. The darkness not so complete. Soon he would be out in the open air. He could already sense the cliff-side opening and the vast space beyond. Memories of the sea breeze, the cries of the gulls, the feel of the sun danced through his mind. Then a vision arose, shoving his recollections to the side. There was a figure, standing alone at the mouth of the cave, facing out towards the sea. He did not need to see his face to know who this was. Silver hair pulled back into a pony tail, a thin flowing silver cloak over silver armor. The silverish light that emanated from within him. Oberon.

This was unexpected.

............

It was not a joyful reunion of friends here under cliff and beside sea. Of all the Fae, Oberon alone would never welcome Lyardaan into his presence. Of all the Fae, Oberon alone held his past against him. But then again, Oberon was not simply just another faerie. They had once been on opposite sides of an ancient war, when Oberon was a dwarf, and Lyardaan lived among the Drow. Perhaps a faerie now, but the enmity of a dwarf remained, and was difficult to overcome. Impossible perhaps, for him.

“You are slow, Diruunnen, time is not a luxury for us anymore.” Diruunnen, the name the dwarves called him back in those dark times. To translate, it roughly means pig shit that has come to life and kills without mercy. It was a fitting description of who he once was. Especially when it came to the dwarfs. And the wood elves. And anyone else who stood against the Drow, or had what they wanted.

“Lord Oberon, I am surprised to see an envoy of the Fae here to greet me, much less one such as yourself.”

“Daemon born, I ask that you not speak unless it is to ask questions pertinent to you being able to help my people. I was nearby, on my way to Thaeron’s Castle, when Eleison asked me to come here and apprise you of our situation. He thought it might save you time and travel, as your understanding of our plight would send you elsewhere anyway. You know my thoughts for you, if we did not need you, I would not care to be near you. I still do not care much for it. So sit and listen and let us be done with this.”

Daemon born? Daemon spawn perhaps, but he was actually born of a human woman. But he found a large semi-flat rock near enough to hear clearly, and sat down none the less.

“King Thaeron is not alive, but not dead. No one is certain what happened, other than Eleison, but as you know, there is much he cannot speak of. One moment my King was fine and healthy, the next… he is lost to us. Who is responsible is obvious enough, as the armies of the Nine began preparations for war just prior. But how they managed to reach Thaeron, and what they did to him, we do not know.”

“Death magic,” whispered Lyardaan to himself, “it has to be.”

“Speak up and explain yourself or stay silent.”

“Death magic. The Nine know of it, I just never thought they would use it. Well, they have used it, but this is of a different kind. It is the only way their work could have been powerful enough to penetrate the Wall, and reach Thaeron. One of the Nine was killed in the casting of this spell, along with many innocents I would assume. That one then merged with the spell in death, sustaining it and guiding it from within, while the others add their power to it. Because he wears the crown, Thaeron cannot die, so instead they use the spell to imprison his life force. Unless the Nine have grown that much stronger over the years, this is the only way…”

“How do we counter such magic?”

“At least one of the Nine must at all times be focused on the spell, to serve as an anchor in this world for the dead. Kill the anchor, or at least distract him long enough to completely lose focus, and the one within the spell will be lost.”

“How do you know of such things? Never mind. I will carry this news to Eleison, if it is correct, it will hopefully loosen his tongue, and he will be able to advise us. But now I must continue. The Prince flew into a rage when this happened to his father, and demanded immediate retribution. We were not, still are not, prepared to rush into war. So he gathered his closest friends, and went to find vengeance on his own.”

“Orindain?”

“Was in my kingdom at the time. He seeks the Prince, but is not with him, no. We have had some word of the Prince since he left. He seems to be hunting down and killing every dark creature he can find. Vengeance with no true focus. At least two of his friends are no longer with him, no longer with us… The High Queen remains strong, but her heart is torn, it is difficult for her to think clearly at times.

“The Nine are trying to destroy the Kingdom from within, and without. They must be stopped Lyardaan. And soon, because they are succeeding. Whatever help you can be to us, please be it. I go to prepare the Fae for war. The Fae… at war! What horrible times are these when faeries begin dressing for battle.
“Just outside, something has been left for you. Use it well this time.” Oberon turned and walked out of the cave, his form dissolving into what was left of the sunlight.

What horrible times indeed, when faeries dress for battle, when an ancient half-breed like himself must turn to a child to hopefully tip the balance. He feared this day would come, longed to never need to interfere in that boy’s life. Finally stepping into the open air again, he did not notice any of the wonders of nature around him. He only saw, leaning against the side of the cliff, a sword he had walked away from long ago, and sighed.

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