Xxai'Lon daKhaan Maquesti
I've written this as a back story for one of the characters in the
upcoming novels I'm currently working on. Much of what is
written is based on actual characters role-played in the Dungeons and Dragons genre by my friends and I .
This “behind the scenes” peek
into the story line of the Elven weapon-master, Xxai'Lon, Prince of
the House Maquesti, is dedicated to my good friend, Jason Webb.
May your blades always guide you on your journey ~ Zzorhn
Version 2.0
__________________
May your blades always guide you on your journey ~ Zzorhn
Version 2.0
__________________
The horse's hoof streaked through the
air, narrowly missing the man's throat, and it was only the nimbleness of the
leather-bound warrior that allowed him dodge the
kick from the powerful warhorse. The dirt and dust flung into the
air by the horses had become a choking fog.
An angry snort brought a tight smile to the lone warrior's face. He heard the attack from behind, and dodged to the side as two massive front hooves came crashing down where he had been but mere seconds before. The charging horse lashed out, pawing at the air trying to hit the man, but the fighter blocked the attack with a hard wooden staff. He broke out in a big grin. and announced, “You missed me Reazghul”, only to barely jump out of the way as the huge head of the warhorse arced upwards with tremendous force. The fighter back-flipped away from the charging beast.
An angry snort brought a tight smile to the lone warrior's face. He heard the attack from behind, and dodged to the side as two massive front hooves came crashing down where he had been but mere seconds before. The charging horse lashed out, pawing at the air trying to hit the man, but the fighter blocked the attack with a hard wooden staff. He broke out in a big grin. and announced, “You missed me Reazghul”, only to barely jump out of the way as the huge head of the warhorse arced upwards with tremendous force. The fighter back-flipped away from the charging beast.
Two more of the massive heavy horses
attacked without warning, flanking the fighter who was armed only
with the wooden staff. Snapping and biting, kicking and and slashing, they
attacked simultaneously. Any mere mortal would have been struck down
immediately from the well-coordinated attacks of the massive animals,
however, this was no ordinary man. The skill and precision of
each block and evasion depicted extensive study and dedication. Every
single muscle snapped and coiled in perfect harmony as the warrior
danced, and twirled. The staff was a blur as it struck at the
steel-hard hooves and slapped away the swinging heads and gnashing teeth.
He ducked as one of the horses lunged
at him. The sharp, powerful hooves of the animal whistled as they cut
through the air. It landed on the other side of the lone fighter, and immediately kicked backwards with its hind
legs. By mere reflex, the fighter back-flipped away from the
exceptional attack.
Again and again, the horses lunged and
charged. The dust was heavy and thick, making it hard to see as it
swirled underfoot and hung in the summer sun. The fighter was dripping from
sweat as he somehow narrowly defended himself each time from the vicious attacks.
Suddenly a shrill whistle split the
air, and the thundering of the hooves immediately stopped. The
lone fighter slowly straightened himself, and squinted through the hazy
dust. The four horses, each easily dwarfing the man by at least
twice, trotted up behind the fighter, greeting him with heartfelt
cheers in the form of whinnies and prancing. They filed together and
stood still behind the man, quietly waiting; sweat dripping from
their well-muscled bodies as they quietly nickered and protested
about the stinging flies.
Through the dust a figured emerged. He was draped in the traditional garb of the nomadic tribe, and wearing lightly-coloured silk robes with a matching cowl. Made of exotic fabric from the Southern portion of the Elven Kingdom and imbued with powerful dweamers,. the magically-enhanced loose-fitting clothing offered enchantments from the savage elements, as well as, a host of other benefits. The King of the White
Elves, clapped in pleasure. “Bravo Xxai'Lon! A most wonderful
display”, he cheered. His long, white hair spilled from the cowl of
his robes ; a typical trademark
of the nomad Elves was the long, white mane sported by the warriors
of the clan. Even the horses matched their Elven counter part, with
tanned brown hair, and long white manes.
The leather-bound warrior knelt on his
knees, and laid the wooden staff in front of himself, bowing low. In
reverence, he simply replied, “Father”.
The King nodded in respect and lifted
his hands, “Rise”, he commanded. He waited for the younger Elf to
stand, chuckling slightly in mirth, and admitted, “That was a very
fine display Xxai'Lon”. He smiled at the well muscled physique of
his oldest son, his cold blue flashing in the sun,“You weren't that
bad either”, he teased.
Xxai'Lon feigned a pout, and turned to
face the warhorses behind him. “You hear that Shearda? Reazghul?
Father loves you best!” The two large horses lifted their heads and
whinnied. He chuckled and turned back to face his father, and asked,
“What news from the tribes?”
The old King sadly shook his head. He
cleared his throat and in grave tones replied, “Not good, I'm
afraid. The encroaching army of the humans from the West does not
bode well as it's obvious the Wood Elves have hired mercenaries”.
He straightened himself, and spoke with the same regalia reserved for
private court, “The Wood Elves have opened their lands to the
humans, and now threaten the peace for several of the smaller tribes
living in the lands beyond the great forest”. He looked at his son
and sadly shook his head, as he said, “Our Kingdom is being called
to war”.
“We should make preparations then”,
answered Xxai'Lon, throwing his shoulders back and snapping to a
salute. He turned to the horses behind him, whistled melodiously, and
snapped several orders, “Shearda, take my father back to the
village. Reazghul, I need to be at the War Council immediately! The
rest of you go with your King!”
Like any well trained military, the
horses sprung into action. The two warhorses bowed low beside the
nomadic warriors, and nickered as they deftly helped the Elves climb
on their massive backs. The instant the Elves were seated on the bare
backs of the intelligent animals, they flew from the small valley
like an arrow fired from a bow.
The thundering hooves tore into the
earth as the King rode towards Dal'Gurho, homeland of the Horse
Lords. While the nomadic Elves were known to migrate each year, the
palace of the High-lord served as more than just a pedestal from
where a king could rule. Strategically located directly in the middle
of the migration trail, it served as a storehouse, armoury, training
grounds, and boasted both a military academy, and the largest Elven
magic school on the continent! It was massive! Carved from magic, it
was a beacon on the horizon for hundreds of Kilometres spiralling
into the sky. The steel-glass spell allowed Elven architects to
sculpt and shape to their hearts desire. The shimmering crystal
palace sparkled in the setting sun, catching the sun's light like a
prism and reflecting it in all shades and colours.
The Horse Lord Tribe, or White Elves,
were renown for both their extreme mastery of magic, as well as,
their special connection with the horses that roamed the great
valley. They were rugged and preferred to travel, following the horse
herds each year. They were proud, feared, and mysterious. Every
member of the scattered tribes was raised to be both a skilled rider
and a master of the various Elves weapons. By the age of two they had
learned how to ride horses, and by five they've chosen one horse as
their “Life Horse”, or “Coai Roch” [pronounced Koi-Roa]. Any
offspring become like part of the family, and the extremely
intelligent breed of wild horse connects with their Elven family due
to the strong magical bond.
Rumours in other lands that speak of
the tribal Elves are mixed with fear and mistrust. Legends tell of a
savage, cold, race of evil Elves that can speak with animals.
Outsiders, regardless of race dare not enter the lands of the White
Elves, or challenge its mysterious, magical, cavalry. White Elves are
brutal, ordered, and loyal. They live in peace with each other, but
have no tolerance for any humanoid race. Every member serves in the
mobile army, some with a blade, and some with sorcery. Preferred
mounts for magic using White Elves, are flaming horses, or fiery
griffons.
While his father headed to the citadel,
Xxai'Lon streaked towards the war council in the North. The hooves of
the horse were a blur, as the magnificent animal was given a magical
speed boost by the Prince; he would never tire, never thirst, as well
as, capable of running at least three times the regular speed of the
noble animal.
The sun was setting in the deep blue
sky by the time he reached the billowing tents of the war council.
The camp was huge! A mobile army of several hundred, it too was
nomadic and followed the tribes providing any manner of help. The
elite army lived by a strict code, with both military support and
boasting the most skilled healers of all the Elves. They were
comprised of the kingdom’s brightest and best! The weapons, armour,
and tactics used by the magical army were stuff of legend; the
elegance of the Elves combined with the hardest, lightest metal known
- Titanium. The Elven craftsman had perfected the art of smelting the
rare metal, and when combined with Elven magic the titanium weapons
were worth more than some kingdoms! The war tribunal was located in
the centre of the camp and the silken tent was ten meters tall, with
the banners fluttering twice as high. Xxai'Lon and Reazghul sped
through the camp, the soldiers snapping to a crisp salute as the
Elven Prince rode by.
The horse skidded to a stop in front of
the heavily armed tent of the war tribunal's council. Xxai'Lon jumped
easily from the bare back of the mighty warhorse, and ordered, “Go
to the stables and eat, good friend”. He turned crisply to the
guard rising up to meet him, “Good evening Sergeant! I trust our
Lady finds you in good health”.
The younger elf flourished a salute,
and barked, “Welcome back Lord MaQuesti! We are pleased to see
you!” He gestured towards the tent, and grinned, “Your uncle is
here. He bids you join him”. The guards at the door parted before
the future King.
Still clad in the training armour, he
strode through the entrance to the council chamber. The large wooden
table that spanned the entire hall was covered in maps and figurines
depicting troop movements, as well as, the various tribes. Seated
around the table were several of the highest decorated warriors of
the Elven kingdom. They all rose the moment the Prince stepped into
the room. With a waved hand, the Prince demanded the council sit and
continue.
Xxai'Lon took a seat at the head of the
table, and a young Elven woman immediately brought him wine and a
large platter of food. He hungrily tore into the fluffy fresh bread,
and eagerly washed it down with fine wine. The war-council proceeded
with matters of possible rumours of the human mercenaries encroaching
on the the tribal land.
The Wood Elves maintained a steady
trading business with the various races; humans, Dwarves, and many
others were welcome to conduct open trade in the various lands past
the woodland realm. The great forest was still off limits, however,
to almost all but the most respectable and powerful humanoids, as the
Wood Elves still maintained a strong mistrust of other races. Over
the last hundred years there were skirmishes on the borders between
the tribal Elves and the wood Elves, with the inevitable result of
both sides building a large army being massed to wage war; the border
had become a tinderbox!
Night came swiftly. Before long, the
various members of the council began to wrap up their meeting and
left to attend to other affairs. Xxai'Lon rose to his feet, and
wearily addressed the remaining council members, “The hour is late,
and I’m going to my tent”. He nodded at his uncle, and continued,
“I’ll speak with you tomorrow Krakkhen. I wish to clean myself
up, and sleep”.
The older elf bowed and curtly replied,
“As you wish Xxai'Lon. I'll see you at breakfast”. Krakkhen
smiled at his sister's oldest son, and nodded in deep respect. “It's
good to see you again! I trust your sister is well”, he cooed.
Xxai'Lon nodded and grinned. “You and
I both know that Ta'Anar is whatever she wants to be”, he jovially
teased.
“Or whoever she wants to be”,
quickly replied Krakkhen joining in the levity. He cleared his
throat, and more sombrely added, “When my little sister gave birth
to you and your twin, it was the proudest moment of my life!” His
face split in a huge smile, “Who would have guessed that she would
end up being one of the most powerful sorceresses the tribes have
ever seen, while you became her match with the skill of a blade!”
He took a deep breath, chuckled, and admitted, “Although we won't
let her know we feel that way, right?”
Xxai'Lon embraced his uncle, and
agreed, “She's already full of herself. I promise, I won't let my
sister know she's thought of so highly”. He winked, smiled wearily,
and sighed, “Although, it would be wonderful to see her soon”.
Krakkhen bowed again, and addressed his
future King, “To bed Your Worship! Our frivolity can wait for the
morning”. The older elf started to move toward the door of the
council chambers, stopped, and turned back to look at his nephew with
a wink, as he said, “Speaking of frivolity, I'm sure Tammerlain
will be happy to see you again. It has been a long time since you
left the halls of the Academy and joined our brethren of the war
tribunal”. He nodded, and smiled as he added, “She's waiting for
you”. He bowed low with respect, muttered, “Good night”, and
marched out of the tent.
Xxai'Lon moved like an automaton
through the camp. Everywhere he went he was greeted with crisp
salutes and calls from warm friends. As the crown Prince, he was not
only a exceptionally skilled Elven warrior and a fierce leader of the
tribes, but he was also a confidant, guide, and proud example. Prince
Xxai'Lon was the epitome of what every Elf could hope to attain
through self discipline and skill with a blade. Trained by the
absolute best, he was ranked number one in the military academy, and
had broken many of the previously held records for accuracy, speed,
and prowess. He was more than a mere warrior to his brothers and
sisters of the elite war council that protected the Elven kingdom; he
was their blood, their purpose.
As he approached his heavily guarded
silk tent, he was greeted by a young, ambitious, female guard. She
was dressed in the Royal regalia of the House MaQuesti, and her
polished black and crimson leather armour shone in the flickering
torch light. Two elegant Elven swords hung belted to her hips and her
long, white hair was pulled back neatly. “Good evening, Majesty”,
chirped the eager squire. She bowed low before her future King. “I've
readied your armour, and prepared your quarters”, she purred.
Xxai'Lon saluted in return, and nodded
as he replied, “Thank you, Tammerlain”. He started to enter the
private tent, and turned back to address the beautiful Elven woman.
In a formal voice, he demanded, “I have further need of you. One of
the straps broke on my breast plate, and I can't reach it properly”.
The young woman blushed shyly. This was
not the first time she had been invited into the Prince's private
chambers. She raised her eyes to stare at the chiselled features of
the handsome elf. Smiling inwardly, she bowed low, and murmured, “As
my Lord demands”.
.....................
He woke with a sudden start! Lying in a
pile of soft, silk blankets, he opened his eyes, and stared about the
room. Beside him, the young Elven woman stirred slightly and smiled
in her sleep. Her slender arm was wrapped around the waist of the
naked Prince, and she sighed happily; dreaming of conquest, and
riding into battle beside her future King and lover.
Xxai'Lon closed his eyes and listened
intently to the sounds around the tent. It was late, and the fires
outside were burning low. A soft glow coming from the small, wooden
table on the other side of the room lit the chambers in a gentle
shimmering blue; the orb that gently throbbed with magical energy was
a childhood gift from his sister crafted during her first year at the
academy. He kept it as a reminder that all things powerful, such as
his magic loving twin, had simple beginnings. The gem-encrusted gold
pedestal held the magic orb suspended, seemingly floating on air. His
sister was as refined in her taste of decorations, as she was skilled
in magic.
He opened his eyes uneasily. His highly
trained senses knew something was wrong! He scanned the room, taking
note of the meagre belongings in the small, heavy-silk tent. His
black and crimson leather armour stood quietly in the corner. His
twin Elven blades were purposely slung over the weapon rack beside
the suit of armour, and glinted in the shimmering light. Xxai'Lon
slowed his breathing and listened. He heard a slight snap of a twig
outside, and the hair on his neck suddenly rose as adrenaline soared
through his veins. He lightly shook the sleeping woman beside him,
“Get up”, he hissed quietly.
Tammerlain groggily murmured, “What
is it my love?” The blankets fell from her naked shoulders as she
sat up in bed. Her long hair covered her face, and she brushed the
thick mane from her eyes sleepily. “Xxai?”, she purred, looking
deep into the eyes of her lover, “What is it, Majesty?”
“I don't know”, he whispered.
Rising quickly, he began to dress. Tammerlain rolled over and propped
herself up on a slender elbow, and watched him struggle with the
straps of the studded leather armour in the pale light. She threw off
the silk blankets, rose from the bed, padded quietly over to the man
she loved, and silently helped him. Her touch was skilled, but
gentle; she was a trained warrior, a skilled weapon-master, and an
accomplished rider, but, she was also a woman and deeply loved this
man. The law of the land gave the Prince the option to choose his
bride and future Queen. There was no doubt as to whom he had already
picked, as Elves mated for life. Their loyalty was unmatched! She and
Xxai'Lon had met on the battlefield over a hundred years ago, and it
was only a matter of time before she became his wife, as well as, his
shield-mate. She gently ran her fingers over the hardened black
leather encrusted with diamonds, and titanium rivets.
She pulled the etched leather weapon
belt from the rack, and quietly handed it to Xxai'Lon. He quickly
strapped the belt over his armour, and began to pull other smaller
weapons from the rack; two boot daggers, a few throwing daggers, and
several small, wickedly shaped, throwing-stars. One by one, he
strapped them on his body, tucking them into hidden places that
provided fast and easy access. Tammerlain picked up a hairbrush from
the small table, and began to brush the long white hair of her lover.
He turned and flashed a smile at the beautiful naked woman. “I love
you”, he happily sighed.
Her eyes sparkled in the blue light of
the shimmering orb. Her finely chiselled face broke into a shy smile,
“I love you too, Xxai”, she purred dreamily.
“To bed, my sweet”, he quietly
ordered. Pulling his shoulders back, he explained, “There's
something wrong, but it doesn't need to interfere with your sleep.
I'm sure it's nothing”. He kissed her passionately, and patted her
firm, naked ass.
Tammerlain squealed and purred in
happiness as she ran her fingers through the heavy mane of the man
she loved. “Don't be too long”, she sighed. Turning, she walked
back to the bed, and crawled under the covers.
Xxai'Lon stared at the exquisite woman
as she climbed back into his bed. His heart skipped a beat, and he
mused over the fact that she had always made him feel giddy, just
like the first day they met. The way she moved, the way she smiled,
her body..... He toyed with the notion of simply climbing back under
the soft blankets, and taking her in his arms, kissing her.... He
snapped, “I'll be back”, and strode from the tent.
The camp was quiet. Too quiet. As he
stealthily flitted from shadow to shadow, he cautiously made his way
to the war council in the middle of the camp. He knew something
wasn't right, and as he secretly moved through the slumbering army
his finely tuned senses began to take notice of the lack of guards
patrolling the camp. He quickly found himself staring at the large
silk tent of the council chambers. Immediately he knew there was a
problem, as the four guards at their post were slumped over, snoring
loudly. He cautiously tiptoed over to the closest guard, moving as
quiet as a ghost. Xxai'Lon angrily snatched the hair of the
slumbering guard, and pulled the elf's head back. The guard didn’t
wake, snoring happily in a magically induced coma. The Prince
suddenly realized they were under attack, and angrily let go the
guard's head, and cursed through clenched teeth, “Unholy Vordian!”
A hiss from behind him, was the only
warning. Instinctively the Prince wheeled around to find himself
staring at a cloaked figure. Deftly, his fingers felt the hidden
pouch of deadly throwing-stars, and in the blink of an eye unleashed
a barrage of deadly projectiles at the hooded figure. The black
cloaked man stumbled back in shock and fell over dead, twitching from
the deadly poison coating the sharp barbs of the throwing-stars.
Looking around in haste, Xxai'Lon scanned for another attack, but
seeing none, swiftly walked over to the cloaked body. He tore back
the hood, and hissed in disgust.
A wood elf. The white skin, and blonde
hair immediately gave away the would-be assassins identify, and
Xxai'Lon's heart jumped into his throat. The Elves of the woodland
realm would not have ventured this far without help, and he would not
have come alone! He pulled out a small ram's horn, placed the magical
instrument to his lips, and blew a long battle note in the crisp,
cold, air.
The camp exploded as soldiers stumbled
from their tents. To Xxai'Lon's horror, he realized that most of the
guards were not rising to help, and that they too were somehow
sleeping through the assault. “Crimson death! A sleep spell!”, he
cursed aloud. Roaring loud, he commanded, “Get up you lazy sacks of
dung! The tribunal is under attack!” Xxai'Lon pulled out a small
vial of clear liquid, and swallowed the contents in one gulp.
Immediately, he became invisible! He unsheathed his twin Elven long
swords, and slowly scanned the camp.
Every fibre, every instinct of the
weapon-master was intensified! His hearing was magically enhanced,
his infravision allowed him the ability to see heat sources at great
distance, and the innate abilities of the White Elves granted him the
ability to cast some spells such as blink, faerie fire, illusions,
levitation, darkness, sleep spells, and much more! As he expertly
examined the slowly waking army, he spotted several cloaked figures
scurrying about the whole camp.
Moving as silent as a shadow and as
quickly as the wind, he stalked his prey. Xxai'Lon moved from tent to
tent, quietly checking on his comrades and passing out instructions
to the small handful of Elves not victim to the sleep enchantment. As
he crouched behind one of the heavy silk tents, he muttered aloud,
“Not good! This isn't normal Firya magic”. He glanced around in
concern, and admitted quietly, “There's a decent spell-caster in
their rank”. He glanced back at the soldiers behind him. The art of
silent communication was an Elven secret. The subtle sign language
was a series of finger and hand movements, eye contact, and body
language. He forced himself to become visible, and smiled
encouragingly at the soldier behind him. Turning his head to a young
Captain, he commanded, his fingers a blur, “Take all the men and
KILL that spell-caster! Almost all of our troops are flat on their
backs!” Xxai'Lon growled out loud, “Take no prisoners”.
The Captain saluted, and began to
silently issue orders. He hissed at Xxai'Lon, and flashed, “How
will we find him?”
Xxai'Lon smiled sadistically. Still
holding the elegant twin blades in his hands, he conveyed in silence,
“I'll bring him to you”. He rose from behind the tent, and strode
purposely into a large clearing in the camp. Immediately he fell
under attack, and was rocked back on his heels by two hooded
assailants. His swords became a blur as they expertly settled into a
rhythm of thrusts, blocks, and parries. The sound of the titanium
swords hammering down on the steel swords of the two cloaked figures,
became a staccato ring. Skillfully he disarmed the first attacker,
and plunged his sword deep into the man's chest, then threw his other
sword at the second. He deftly flicked his finger, and the sword sped
straight at the assailant catching him in the neck. He wobbled over
like a headless bird and slumped to the ground. Xxai'Lon willed the
sword back to his hand, and instantly the weapon rematerialized in
his outstretched grasp. He pulled the other sword from the corpse at
his feet, and wiped the blood of both on the black cloak. Curiosity
stuck him, and he deftly flicked back the woollen hood with a sword,
and gasped in amazement; it was a human male.
High above circling the camp, the
winged beast lazily rode through the night air. Seated atop the
massive dragon was a cloaked figure holding an ornate staff. The hard
wood was carved with intricate runes that glowed with an unnatural
pulsing red light. Atop the magical staff was a skeletal arm, holding
a giant ruby! The bones were also carved and ornamented with small
gems. The blood-red ruby pulsed with its own scarlet hue, silent,
deadly. The hooded man watched the encampment with eagerness as it
much too slowly reacted to the deadly attack. Suddenly, he spied the
figure of the Elven Prince below, and purred, “Ahh! There you are”.
Patting the massive red dragon on the neck he commanded, “Kill that
Elf! Bring your kiss of death, my pet!”
Xxai'Lon pulled back the heavy silk
curtain to his tent, and peered inside. His heart immediately leapt
into his throat; laying in the bed in a pool of blood, was
Tammerlain. He dropped his swords, and cried out in anguish as he
rushed to the side of the bed. In disbelief and barely able to see
through the tears, he lifted the lifeless head of the Elven woman. He
pressed her face hard against his as he howled in agony, “My love!
Oh, my sweet Tammerlain!” He began to seethe in rage, his face
streaked with tears, “I'll avenge you! I’ll going to kill them
all!” His face became a mask of death, determined, soulless. He
gently laid down Tammerlain's head and stood up, his eyes flashing in
pain and rage. Xxai'Lon walked over and picked up his swords.
A blast of flame nearly took him off
his feet! Xxai'Lon felt the intense heat from outside the tent, and a
concussive blast shook the heavy silk. Shaking his head in disbelief,
he quickly peered out of the tent flap and instinctively recoiled. A
dragon! His heart began to quicken, and even his steel-hard will
started to melt. He gasped in fear! He swallowed hard, trying to
think, but his mind swirled in flashing moments of painful deaths
coming from ....... He shook his head, and pushed the negative
thoughts from his mind. Xxai'Lon cleared his throat, and nodded in
realization; Dragon fear! He could feel it now. A raw pulsing wave of
nausea and overwhelming fear that emanated from the magical beast.
Almost every humanoid on the planet was prey to the mind numbing fear
that such great creatures generate. Xxai'Lon forced himself to
breath, and push past the fear.
Jumping to his feet, he peered out the
tent flap again. He sighed, “Thank the gods for dragon proof
ghrandyatta”, as he surveyed the war council. The silk fabric used
by the nomadic Elves not only repelled wind and beating rain, but
also fire and magic. It was also able to withstand dragonfire! The
runes embroidered into the weave were enchanted with powerful
dweamors providing protection any military would kill to posses.
There were fires throughout the camp, as anything combustible
immediately burst into flame from the intense flames, however, the
tents of the soldiers stood firm against the great beast. Elves ran
around screaming, some on fire, some in panic. It was chaos! The
screams of the dying could be barely heard over the roar of the
winged horror as it would circle overhead and come diving down,
raining death on the ground. Xxai'Lon too a deep breath, and pushed
the tent flap open, and strode out in the camp.
The black robed figure atop the dragon,
cackled with glee. “Too easy”, it hissed. The staccato thundering
of the massive wings and the creak of the tendons punctuated the
screams of the flames and the dying Elves below. The dragon turned in
the air slowly, and began to dive for another attack. The giant red
dragon inhaled deeply and opened its massive, fanged jaws. The forked
tongue flickered in delight as the predator eyes scanned for fresh
targets. Suddenly, the cloaked rider screamed, “There! Over
there!”, pointing at the Prince. The dragon's eyes flashed in anger
as the rider's booted heels dug into its sides, but it turned its
scaled head towards the intended target, the Prince. The dragon
narrowed its eyes and dove to the ground, exhaling deeply, and
leaving a wide, hellish, wall of magical fire in its wake.
Xxai'Lon ran and dove into the closest
tent as the wall of fire exploded outside! He could feel the wave of
heat nearly strip his lungs bare, and he coughed from the pain. He
shook his head and ran back out the door. Gritting his teeth, he ran
his fingers over the hilts of his swords, and muttered an
incantation. The runes along the swords began to glow, and he
ritually brought the two swords together, touching their blades.
There was a flash of bright light, and the two swords had become one!
Heavier, longer, it was a staff with a sword at each end. Xxai'Lon
grinned and watched the massive beast lazily turn in the sky,
readying itself for another pass. He flexed his muscles, and expertly
spun the two-bladed sword. The hum from the twin blades reverberated
through the air as the weapon-master made the staff dance around him
in a blur. He abruptly stopped, and stood poised. Ready. Every muscle
was coiled like snake. He could make out the silhouette of the rider,
but it was the pulsing staff in its outstretch hand that caught
Xxai'Lon's attention. He stood his ground, and waited for the dragon
to attack.
The massive fangs gleamed in the
flickering flames as the giant red dragon rained death. In its glee,
the scaled horror roared over the scattered remains of the war
tribunal camp. Smashing through the remaining defences and knocking
over tents, it obliterated everything in its path with reckless
abandon. It was a massacre! The old dragon was enjoying thoroughly
himself, and revelled in the carnage. It soared over the war council
and snapped its jaws, shattering the wooden poles like mere twigs.
The tent collapsed, and the massive beast chuckled.
Suddenly, a twin-bladed staff appeared
right in front of the dragon. Thee was no time to react as the magic
blade pierced through the plated scales and thick bones of the
beast's head! With a sickening crunch, the blade embedded itself deep
between the dragon's eyes! The beast was immediately dead, and
tumbled to the ground in a flurry of wings, limbs, and tail. The
massive creature dug a wide swath of destruction in the earth as it
thundered to a crumpled heap.
Like an arrow fired from a bow, the
weapon-master streaked toward the dead dragon. By the time he
arrived, the great beast was done twitching in its final moments of
death. Carefully, the stressed Elven warrior made his way over to the
enchanted weapon still stuck in the creature's thick skull. Xxai'Lon
planted his boots squarely, and wrenched the staff from the shattered
skull of the dragon. He sighed and looked around in disbelief. The
camp was destroyed, and he could barely see any survivors.
Cautiously, he began to search for the cloaked rider. Behind him, the
dragon shuddered one last time and a foul-smelling last gasp emanated
from the bloody maw. Xxai'Lon glanced back at the dead dragon, and
then turned his attention to the looming problem; finding the person,
or thing that was riding the dragon, as well as, that magical staff.
He scoured the camp searching for
survivors and the mystery rider. By the time the sun had risen it was
obvious that somehow the hooded figure had escaped. Blearily,
Xxai'Lon wandered the shattered remains of the proud war tribunal.
There was only a couple dozen survivors, and most wouldn't be seeing
another sunrise.
It took a few hours to salvage enough
supplies, round up the remaining horses, and begin the journey. With
enhanced speed, and lungs of steel, the powerful horses thundered
across the grassy plains. Prince Xxai'Lon was at the lead, riding his
loyal friend, Reazghul. Behind him, his uncle, and the war chiefs
rode in silence. While the defeat of such a great beast as an old red
dragon was going to become legend and the stuff of songs, it was a
massive loss for the proud war tribunal! They forged ahead with their
hearts in pain, and their pride seething in anger.
Suddenly, the crown Prince held up his
hand, and ordered the group to stop. The horses bickered in
annoyance, but quickly fell into formation.
Krakkhen addressed the Prince, “What
is it, sir?”
Xxai'Lon pointed to the sky. He replied
simply, “A rider”.
The feathered wings of the snow-white
Pegasus whistled through the air as it soared over the shattered
warriors. The majestic creature landed in the long grass a short
distance away, and pranced up to the group. Immediately, Xxai'Lon
recognized the rider, and he jumped off his horse.
The Elven woman deftly hopped off the
Pegasus, and walked up to pat the beautiful animal on the nose.
Quietly, she whispered, “Tangosh'Kha”. The animal began to
shrink, and quickly became the size of a child's toy - A motionless,
pure white, statuette of a flying horse. Picking the white marble
figurine out of the grass, she turned to her brother, and opened her
eyes wide in horror. “Thank the gods you're safe!”, she cried.
Ta'Anar rushed forward, and collapsed in her twin's arms. She sobbed,
“They've killed them all, Xxai”Lon! Mother! Our sister! And I
think father is being held captive!” Her body wracked with sobs,
and all Xxai'Lon could do was hold on tight. His heart broke, and he
too became ridden with grief.
Krakkhen wordlessly began to issue
order to make camp. The group split up and started building a fire
and setting up a few of the remaining tents. Once he was satisfied
that preparations were in order, he turned and walked over to the
siblings. He threw his arms around the two sobbing Elves, and held
them close, feeling their pain.
“Come”, he prodded, his face a
stone mask. He practically pulled the twins toward the smouldering
fire, “Let us talk”.
….............
“You really think leaving is the best
idea?” snorted Xxai”Lon. He was pacing around the campfire, and
shaking his head in disgust. Ta'Anar was lying on a plush feather
bed, poring over her spell-book. She looked exhausted and worn. He
glanced back at his uncle, and shook his head again, as he seethed,
“I can't believe you're telling me that we should simply abandon
our people...”
Krakkhen silenced his nephew with a
raised hand. He cleared his throat, and tried to remain calm as he
said, “Your Majesty, if I may. You must realize that you are now
the King!” He paused to let his words sink in.
Xxai'Lon stopped pacing and crossed his
arms. “All the more reason I should say”, he hissed.
“No!”, snapped Ta'Anar. The word
hung thick in the air, and everyone turned to stare at the Princess
laying on her magical bed. Ta'Anar had changed her clothes, and was
now wearing her travelling robes; plain black, with the scarlet runes
of her family. She propped herself up on her elbow. “For once, and
I beg you on this matter! Listen to me, dear proud brother”.
Slowly, deliberately she rose from the soft silk, and stated,
“You.... I mean, WE, should run!”
“What?”, gasped the Prince.
Xxai'Lon stared at his sister with doubt. He dropped his hands to the
hilts of his swords hanging belted to his waist, and just shook his
head. “Why do not want to stay and fight? YOU? Of all people?!”,
he asked incredulously.
Ta'Anar stood up and bowed low before
her brother, the King of the Horse Lords, and softly explained,
“Because, dear brother. We have already lost”.
“What do you mean?” asked Xxai'Lon
dryly. He took a deep breath to speak, but was silenced by his
sister.
“The ones that murdered our family
were not of the woods”, stated Ta'Anar. She sighed, crossed her
arms, and snapped, “It was a coup, staged by House Bi”Rith. They
started the rumour of the border skirmishes, and simply waited for
the army to not be there in our King's most dire moment!” Her eyes
clouded over with tears, and softly muttered, “When our Father was
in most need”. She raised her head, and chided, “You and I will
be hunted, no matter where we go”.
“No”, replied Krakkhen gently. He
shook his head sadly, and looked at the twins. “There are places
where you will not be followed.”
Xxai'Lon gasped. “You mean leave the
plains?”, he blurted. “They'll kill us if we leave the safety of
Elven kingdom, just for being a White elf”, he snapped.
Krakkhen smiled softly, and sighed,
“They will kill you if you stay”.
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