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Anathema: Elven Test

Light filtered down through the roof of greenery over their heads, the songs and whispers of the forest broken only by their footsteps over the debris underneath. He watched and followed his father’s back before him, a familiar sight ever since he was able to stand and looked up into the kind blue eyes. Their silent walk had become a routine, at first he would walk in front of his father greeting the birds with their calls, later he would fall back to walk alongside the older man on the stream’s bank, watching the silvery flashes of fishes in the clear water. At the end he would walk slower yet again, at first from child-like fatigue and later by choice, contented just to see the solid back of his icon.

There was something different that day, a tension in the air perhaps, or an out of place lining of his father’s over-robe, but he could do nothing until the older man broached the issue first. He was known for speaking little and made all his words count, all the more reason to listen closely.

The back stopped, he did also, a few paces behind. He could hear his father let out a held back breath and watched as the head turned sideways a little, an indication for him to move forward.

A few steps and he were by his father’s side, looking him straight in the eyes. Sky’s blue eyes met polished mahogany with easy familiarity, his father nodded a little, perhaps an approval for what he saw, and spoke,

“So Daenavin, you have finally reached the stage where your faith must be tested. Tomorrow, if or when you pass your trial, you will no longer be a child following my footsteps but a true elf that have surpassed his father.”

He paused then, turning away his head to look at the Tooi bird which had come to perch nearby, the bird flitted away and he turned back his head toward his son, continued in a solemn tone,

“Remember that you will be under the tutelage of Judge Frollo Remue when you pass, he will demand hard work and patience, and you are to give it to him.”

He paused again and a hand reached out to grasp his son’s shoulder, gave it a little squeeze,
“You are silent today Daenavin, tell me, how do you feel about this trial?”

Daenavin lowered his eyes, searched into his soul for an answer. The hand fell away, tucked again into the voluminous robe, and still he had no answer. Only when he looked up again, into his father’s eyes, did the answer came to him,
“I know that I am ready, father, and I will surely bring honor to our family.”

A small smile turned up the corners of the lined mouth and his father nodded in acknowledgment,
“Well then, the youth is hope for tomorrow after all. I know you will succeed. Go on now Dane, I believe your friends are waiting for you at The Grove.”

He smiled at the familiar nickname, and asked, “What of you father?”

“I believe I will stay a little longer. Come home when you have seen your friends, your mother have been preparing all your favorite dishes since yesterday.”

The smile on his face grew wider, a trace of boyhood still lingered, and he sprinted off, extremely un-clergymen-like. The previous Tooi bird watched the elf youth leapt over the low fence surrounding what was actually a massive park, before lifting up again into the air and sailed into the breeze. Spread out below was the capital of the Elves, wooden houses constructed so as to disturb the natural surroundings as little as possible with only cobbled streets and paved highways to indicate the presence of the city at all. The street bustled and the markets thrived, and life goes on, no matter how many times people rise and fall.
*
Dane, called so by his family and friends, slowed down to a walk after awhile, set for him self a leisurely pace. The sun was shining and its warmth bathed his long saffron hair, tied simply at the nape. Various passing pedestrians and shop keepers called out to him in greeting, all of which he replied with a good-natured smile and nod. He turned and weaved around streets, alleys, sideways and occasionally a garden’s fence, familiar terrains since childhood. A final leap and he reached his destination: a tall, imposing oak.

The ancient tree had stood there since time immemorial, providing all underneath with its immense shade. It had once been a pagan ceremonial ground, a center of a city, and a dependable fort in war all through its long age. As of present it had become a center for commerce, with various shops and stalls sprouting up like mushrooms, nestling comfortably right up into one of the lower branches. He had, as a boy with ten or so of his friends, attempted to ring the base of the gigantic guardian. Sufficient to say they failed.

He approached the site, staring up as always in admiration of the regal being. No sooner had he stepped into the edge of the shade did a hand made contact with the back of his head, not one intended for harm but rather for noise. Nevertheless, the force propelled him forward a couple of paces before he was able to regain his balance and wheeled back angrily, mouth opened, about to say a few un-clergy-like words before he saw who it was and bit back his reply. Instead, he settled on the choice of glaring holes into his friends.

A pair of boy and girl stood, trying to look inconspicuous, where he was standing a moment before. Any passerby will be able to tell in a glance that the two are related, both boasting clear viridian eyes and the same nut brown hair, one clipped at the nape and the other loose over bare shoulders. They were dressed simply, even though the cloths were of brilliant weave and tailor, certainly not the kind of dress you would expect on the children of the Elven General.

The glaring and the innocuous act went on for awhile, then, unable to stand it any longer, the girl burst into a clear laugh, much like what you may expect to hear if rivers had a voice. The boy came forward toward the still scowling Dane, and slung an arm over his green-clad shoulder,

“You’ve got to watch your back more mate, it’ll save your life one day no doubt.”

Earning for him self a more, if it were possible, withering glare, Amrodin turned back towards Amerrin, beseeching for help with a look only siblings can share. Amerrin grinned, a mischievous gleam in her eyes, as she bound over to the two boys. She gave no warning as, with a final bound, she lightly somersaulted over the two and push both of them from behind. They yelled and tried to snatch at the girl, who good-naturedly dodged with ease. The chase was on, as the pair of boys ran and shouted out laughingly at the girl, on the other side the girl, dancing always out of reach.

At last, the girl led them to a bare spot underneath the spacious clearing and collapsed down onto the springy moss, with the boys following, one on either side. They lay there, breathing in deeply and looked up at the distant sky through the foliage above. The light slowly melted into the color of flame as they banter good-naturedly back and forth. As the light was about to fade completely, Amerrin spoke up,

“It’s already tomorrow isn’t it? The Trial of Life…” she trailed off, eyes unfocused on a distant dream.

“Dreaming of the Legion again, Rin?” her brother said exasperatedly, having been put through several of her passionate monologues praising the valor and deeds of the Legion of the Wise, her ambition to be a part of their ranks, etc. etc.

“I’ll have to go along and keep an eye on you again…”

Rin pushed her brother affectionately on the shoulders, knowing full well that the Legion is also his dream.

“Those dreams will all come true tomorrow when we pass the test! I’ll finally be able to prove my family’s worth…no one will dare to defile the name of Runegasn again!” Dane burst out unexpectedly.

Two green pairs of eyes regarded him and two pairs of arms reached out to embraced him in comfort. It was they, years ago, who stood up for him in front of all the other children intent on bullying him. He knew the cause, of course, but he believed in his father. Cutting a long story short, they were friends ever since.

“Well it’s getting late, we better head home Din, or Mam will be after us again.”

“You’re right, I haven’t even recovered from yesterday’s beatings yet.” He grinned as he imagined the old caretaker running after them along the airy hallway of their mansion.

“You better go and check over your things with the old man again Dane, no telling what may happen between now and tomorrow!” Rin playfully teased him, an old joke stirring a fluttering of amusement between the three.

“What ever you wish my lady,” Dane replied with a mock bow, “So I’ll see the two of you tomorrow at the Gate of Truth then, don’t be late!”

The three friends parted, as daylight diminished and darkness descended among the shades of trees. Glowing drops of illumination flickered into life along the pathways of the city, natural concoctions of secret ingredients put into place everyday by the Illuminator clans, each section of the city would vie against each other, trying to outdo the other’s brightness and durability.

Dane stopped by a stall selling various herbs and berries from the forest, stocking up on his medicinal supply. He would spend a little time after dinner tonight mixing up a batch of his elixirs, sure to be useful tomorrow. They will need all the support he could provide to get through till the end of the week long Trial.

With a last look at the light-ornamented, majestic oak, a few more nods toward the people he knew, and a wary glance at one of the other group of young elves still loitering around the clearing, he turned toward the lively Traders section of the city, where strange wares and even stranger merchants flocked together, setting up their exotic shops. The stalls around The Grove provided all the average elf needs, but for the truly awe-inspiring and the greatest, if hard to find, quality, the specialized section was where you will go to eventually, and he had met one of those rare merchants that barter but never cheat.

The streets grew a little darker, as he passed from the city’s center into its outer rims, the Illuminators here content only on being the second-best, too lazy to compete with the larger, and better funded, prominent clans. The shops have their own window’s lights however, some filtered through years of grime, some through stained glass masterpieces. His feet came to rest in front of a decent-looking shop, unusually bare on the front’s decoration and cleaner than most, eyes noticing the old man Niev had changed his shop sign to read ‘KEEP OUT’ instead of ‘Welcome World-Weary Travelers’.

Cocking up an eyebrow, he boldly leapt up the two short steps to the front door, landed lightly and banged on the stern wooden door. Silence answered his knock, after a few minutes of waiting he decided to call out,

“Sir?! SIR! Are you coming to open the door or not? I’ll break the glass like the last time if you don’t!” he jokingly threatened, as his body feigned a charge against the no doubt expensive swirled-glass window panes.

The door flew open at once and a thunderous voice crushed against his ears,

“YOU LAY A FINGER ON THAT GLASS AND I’LL SMASH YOUR EQUIPMENTS TO PIECES,” Pause for breath, “YOU INSOLENT PUP!”

Dane laughed as he answered fearlessly, “Time was you would be able to say the sentence in a single breath Niev sir, getting old at last?”

A whistling sigh, “Ay, if I am it’ll be caused by you young’uns. Gods know, that pair of sibling winded me up like nothing else!”

Dane patted the elder person’s back reassuringly, bending down quite far, as the top of Niev’s head only reached his chest. The three friends had been coming to and fro between the dwarf’s shop ever since they’d discovered Niev’s habit of keeping sweets in his pocket, among other interesting things in the bottomless space. As years go by, the affection between them increased with the passing of seasons, they had called him ‘sir’ out of respect, before long the word turned into a good-natured joke for the youths when Niev didn’t seem to mind being called ‘old man’ or, on a good day, just his name.
“I hope you haven’t done anything I don’t want to pay for on my things again old man!” Dane said warningly as he followed the dwarf-smith-slash-merchant into the shop’s interior.

Weapons from all the corners of the world clustered densely around the remaining walls not given to the front windows, Dane’s eyes traced along one wall, where a selection of wands have been lined up on cushions of its own. He knew he’ll never be able to afford even a chip of wood off these artifacts, each a priceless work of art and powerful in its own ways. Perhaps someone with a purse like the siblings would be able to buy them, but he had long since decided never to ask the pair for anything, even if his life depended on it.

“Don’t worry your head over the little things youngster. You’re starting to sound like me own mother and that ain’t a good thing.”

Dane grinned, previous gloom lifted as he watch Niev lumbers around the back of the counter in front of him, mumbling to him self in his curious accent, a kind of cross between dwarfish gruffness and elfin preciseness, chin on hand.
“Here you go then, you might as well take them home now, don’t have to waste time coming back again.” Niev said as he lifted quite a large package onto the counter, still strong with working smith’s arms even though pure white hair and beard graced his features, completed with thick glasses perching on a long thin nose.

“You mean you finished already? Thank you sir!” Dane gleefully unwrapped the canvas paper, spraying bits of strings and dust all over the spotless counter.

Niev’s eyes gleamed as he affectionately watched Dane’s face transform from happiness into sheer ecstasy, hands held up to the light with his finest work in its grasp.

White, just like the clouds and Niev’s hair, and almost like water to his touch, a finely weaved robe spilled down in waves, catching and reflecting the scant light. However the true awe lies beyond mere looks with all of Niev’s works, as he saw in-between the threads woven a regularly dispersed shine: metal. Even more than that…
Dane’s eyes widen as he slowly lowered his hands, “Niev…this…I can’t accept it! You’ve spent a fortune’s worth of mythril on me!”

Niev wagged his finger at the young elf, “Now haven’t I taught you the value of gifts? This here robe will protect you from the full brunt of all elements and even physical attacks. Wear it like a lucky charm if you will, it’ll keep you safe and bring you home.” The beard moved at the last sentence, briefly turned up into the fleetest of smile, before fading away.
An unmanly feeling burned at the back of Dane’s forehead and as a result his eyes gleamed more than usual. He nodded gratefully. Words lodged at the back of his throat, waiting to be said, but all he could do was to hope Niev could see the real feeling in his eyes.

“It’s getting quite late youngster, you’d better start heading home, early day tomorrow and all that.”

Dane nodded again, said his farewells and headed out of the shop, holding onto his gift tightly. An expression set onto his face, one which combined determination and fear all into one, determination for success, fear of disappointment in those he love.
*
The quiet of the night remained unbroken but for the few sounds of small animals and its hunters, the buzz of insects and the air. Dane followed the path leading further out of the city, no fear for the now abundant darkness, illumination dim and far between each circles of light. The night grew denser still as the moon hid behind the trees.

At last a familiar light wink out at him from between the trees and he quicken his pace, soon after he arrived on a familiar sight, a small two-storey house curled between the bases of two trees, warm yellow lights spilling out from every window. Branches of the trees twined in and out of the building, poking holes into the floorboards and walls. How the family inside found enough flat space for furniture was anyone’s guess.

Closing the door gently behind him, he set off down the central hallway of the house, possibly the only place where branches were not present, steps light and soft, as is customary of an elf. Low whispering voices sifted out of a crack in the door immediately before him, his parents’.

“…too kind for his own good, he won’t be able to kill those poor innocents.”

Dane stopped in his tracks, ears unconsciously trained on his mother’s voice.

“We’ll have to wait and see, Vyna, he will have to decide on his own…” the voice abruptly stopped and Dane hastily stepped back a ways, just in time, as the door opened and his father came out.

“Hello father, I’m sorry for being so late…”

“Dane, dearest, is that you?” the sweet face of his mother appeared behind his father’s and although lined, still retained much of her youthful captivity.

“I’m home mom, sorry again for the lateness.”

Vyna broke into a tender smile, though he couldn’t helped but to noticed the too shiny glimmer in her dark eyes, and she came forward toward him, holding out her arms. He stepped into her embrace readily, aware that it maybe the last time he will able to do so without the embarrassment of an adult. A few moments of comforting warmth seeped into his soul and he breathed in his mother’s scent, a scent of herbs which lingered and will never be completely erased, a trademark of any of the Brewer clans. He is the son of a lowly Brewer girl and the failed heir of one of the most prominent Warrior clan, yet despite all the difficulties he faced as a child growing up in such a situation, not once did the thought of hating his parents crossed his mind. He had accepted that his father was too kind to be able to harm a living being and his mother loved his father because of it.

Surely no one could want any thing more than love.

He gently broke away from his mother, “I’ll be alright mom. I’ve got your teachings to aid me and father’s skills to save me, I won’t fail.”

Vyna’s permanently stained hand stroke his face, “I know dearest, now go on up to your room. You must have a good meal and a good sleep, tomorrow comes soon.”

The couple stood together at the doorway to the sitting room, watching their only son climbed up the steep stairway. When the last swish of cloth vanished, Vyna’s tense emotions snapped and the held back tears spilled down, tracing the full contours of her face. A single drop hang suspended on the tip of her round chin, before a gentle but firm hand of her husband brushed it away.
*
The hushed silence of early morning greeted his ears, his eyes blinked, once, twice, and closed again in a sigh before they opened again in full consciousness. He sat up, a hand ran through his hair in an attempt to tame the wild tangle, his other worked on the catch of a small window next to his bed. When opened, small wisps of fog rolled in, with it the perfume of dew and living green things. He stared into space, an ill feeling, perhaps a leftover of a dream, still drifted in his mind. He shook his head to clear away the distraction, swung down from the bed, and landed lightly on the floor several feet below. The room was a high one, though narrow, and he had his work tables underneath the bed to save space. Strangely neat for a boy’s room, but it couldn’t be help since otherwise there won’t be any room to maneuver.

Shelves of various sizes lined all four walls, the biggest one had been his bed. He went to one set immediately in front of him, next to the door leading outside. On a small padding he had collected from bird’s feathers lay a simple wand, a present from his mother when he turned of age. Polished till it shone the color the same as his eyes and set with only a small ring of pearl at the base, the only interesting feature of it seemed to be the peculiar shape, a slight curve near the base for better grip and a hook shaped top. For some reason unknown, it had always reminded him of a scythe.

He fingered along the smooth surface, feeling for the power within the wood, the spirit of the tree from which the wand had come. It was a young oak, not nearly as powerful as some of the wands he saw in Niev’s shop but full of energy. They would go far together.

He turned back toward one of his work tables, cleared last night and laid out with all the items he will need in the Trial. A sturdy pack lay opened, another of Niev’s work, cut into the perfect size and shape to fit snugly against his body for fluid movement, spare changes of clothes lay folded neatly to one side, tucked in between the layers were several fist-size bottles of medicines and the basic antidotes, all of which he had concocted the night before. Space would be left for dried foods, other rations, his one herbal tome and mixing instruments, in the case of any other antidotes or elixirs which may be needed. The one strap that will lie across his chest was fitted with numerous pockets, in which he placed all of his inventions: acids, exploding gas, sleeping gas, tears gas, etc.

He dressed comfortably, a thick shirt of natural material and pants of the same stuff, both of a subtle color, boots worn into softness over time, polished and freshly shod with a metal base, and to complete the outfit, Niev’s gift.

Dane padded softly down the stairs, occasionally using the interspersing branches as a step, and out of the front door. He had already said his farewells last night before going up to bed, knowing him self that he will never be able to do it in the morning.

At the bend of the path he turned back to look at the serene house in the morning light, before his face hardened and he turned away, toward his destiny.
*
The rustles of trees and quiet birdsongs enveloped him, but all his senses were alert, trained toward the smallest of noise. Over and over again it had been drilled into him as a child of the dangers of the world outside the Gate of Truth. For him to walk further down the path of Life he will have to eventually face Truth, and he thanked the Gods he was able to do so with two of his most trusted companions. The Allocation of Truths that morning surfaced again in his mind’s eyes, as he carefully avoided a pile of dry leaves, taking care to step as quietly as possible in the volatile outside world.

Judge Frollo himself had come up to him as he stood at attention beside the siblings at the open grounds before the Gate, tensely waiting for the Allocation. The Judge had asked for his name and when he gave it a look of recognition flare up in the sharp eyes, and a small smile turned up the usually grim mouth. A feeling at the back of his head rebelled against such an expression. However, he couldn’t, or perhaps wouldn’t, let the emotion made its way into his eyes. Disrespect wasn’t something he wanted to show to someone who he might be spending the better of part of his life learning from.

The Judge gave them a different mission from the rest, or so he said, because he saw something in Dane’s eyes which were quite different from, and promised much more, than his father.

He didn’t know whether to take it as an insult or praise.

Judge Frollo Remue exact words were, “Well then, Daenavin Runegasn, Amrodin and Amerrin Kruelaris, I Allocate to you the task of exterminating the followers of Saint Grist’s cult. As you most likely know, cultists such as these are deviating from their normal practices as of late.” The Judge paused, looked into each of their eyes, and back to Dane, “No doubt you have heard from the Head Priest himself of the ill-feelings amassing in the outside world. I make no claims that the mission will not be dangerous. So,” the small smile again, “take care to come back in one piece…although,” the smile grew by a fraction, “you might be missing some pieces of your body. Just think of it as war souvenirs.”

Chills from those words still lingered in his spine, and made the warm day seemed colder than it should be. It lingered even through the three small scuffles with rabid beasts along their way toward what they gathered to be a small village, the base of the cult they were after.

He seemed to view all of his and other’s actions from a faraway place, as if not entirely connected to his body. He watched the graceful form of Rin turned into a deathly weapon as a brawler, the retractable claws on her hands even more fatal than the real ones of the beasts attacking them. He saw, too, the arrows which sprouted up from the eyes and heads of the beasts, courtesy of Din the marksman as he covered Rin’s back from harm, also the occasional flash of steel as the creatures got too close to use the bow and Din had to dispatched them with the long knife hanging by his side. He noticed his own white clad arms, raised and swept around periodically in gestures, once throwing an acid bottle full into the face of a rabid wolf, sometimes the wand traced out the runes of Healing while his other hand pointed toward the siblings, indicating the pathway for the energy to go.

The day drew to a close, the shadows underneath the trees deepened and the usual morning noises of leaves rustling intensified into a more sinister variant, eyes seemed to glow from the oddest of places, the sound of their breath grew too loud, the steps too careless, and the heart too thunderous. It was their first time out of their safe haven after all.
They reached a small clearing just as the last slip of the sun’s rays drained down the horizon, leaving the wood in complete darkness with the stars’ light only specks of dust in the huge sky, the sliver of moon hidden behind brewing clouds signified a cold night ahead.

Din scouted around the fringes of the clearing, looking for firewood with his superior night sight, while Rin cleared a space in the middle of the small clearing in preparation for the campfire. He set down his pack with a sigh of relief and readied himself for one last runes casting for the night.

The familiar glow of the symbols slid into his mind’s eye and he raised his wand, tracing out the runes in a translucent light as he Named each one, giving them power from the tree’s spirit in the wand. The band of light hovered, eager to be set free like a bird in a cage, revolving slowly around his form. With a graceful wave and flick of his other hand the light ring contracted once and expanded to surround the entire clearing, fusing seamlessly into each stem of grass. The Ring of Protection would last until morning and would make them invisible to any creature that may pass by. Din stepped into the clearing just in time as the defense rose up to merged above their heads, flashed once and was gone, dissipating into each air particles.

Din whistled appreciatively and grinned, setting down his load of wood next to the busy Rin, “Looks like our luck is in place Rin, Mr. I-failed-runes-class here’s in charge of our safety for the night. I wonder if I’ll be sleeping next to a pair of fangs in the morning,”

Dane smiled sardonically as he replied, “Oh, I’m sure you’ll be sleeping with the prettiest of the ones out there, they won’t be able to resist your notorious charm, Mr. Popular. Also, need I remind you that this ‘failed-in-runes-class’ just saved your hide earlier today?”

“Oh ho, getting wise-cracking now are we?”

“Not as much as you are I believe,”

“Of course, as they say, sarcasm is the highest form of wit after all,"

“Indeed and here I am, thinking, that your wit is the lowest form of sarcasm.”

“GUYS! Cut it out!” Rin burst out along with two successive whacks of the head on the taller males, who were standing glaring at each other with eyes that sparked lightning.

“Ow! Hey, hey, go easy on me will you? I’m your little brother!”

“‘Little’ my foot! You’re a hand taller than me!”

“I was saying it in terms of age Rin!”

Another whack resounded and complete silence filled the clearing, Dane eyeing the girl he knew since childhood in a rather new light, but not necessarily in a better perspective.

Rin whirled round to glare at him and he unconsciously stepped back a little, smiling in a rather awkward fashion under her reprimanding gaze.

“Ah…well, I better get started on that dinner then.”

Thankfully for him she smiled in response to his cautious tone and giggled as she turned back toward her ‘fallen’ brother and pulled him up by the arm, the boy still covering his head from the blows his sister generously gave.

After they had finished the soup made from wild mushrooms and herbs, warmed bread, and fresh water, all three laid out their sleeping pallets around the fire, although they only sat on it and faced each other across the crackling flame.

“You know I’ve never thought the outside world would be so dark.” Rin ventured out, as the silence deepened along with the night.

“Yeah, it’s times like this that you think of the Illuminators.” Din mused as the firelight flickered strangely in his eyes.

“Hmm,” Dane’s eyes were fixed on the heavens above and he wasn’t actually listening to the siblings as they banter about aimlessly. ‘The stars sure are bright out here…you couldn’t see stars like these even in the dimmest part of the city.’ The sound of his name made him look toward the siblings that sat on his far side, across the popping fire.

“Dane, tell us the story again. You know,” Rin added as he looked perplexed, “the one about the creation of the first Elves by the Arc-Saint.”

“We’ve heard that one for a million times already Rin! I’ll rather hear about the one when Saint Amerran fought with the poisonous wyverns!”

Dane chuckled, “You do like to hear about the Saint you’re named after don’t you, Din?”

“Well, wouldn’t you like the same?” Din retorted as he flushed a little red, later he would probably say that it was from the heat of the fire.

“Oh that’s right, we’ve never hear a story about the Saint you’re named after Dane, though, granted, you’re the one with the storyteller voice and always telling us the ones we requested. Let’s see…is it Saint Danave?”

“No…”

“Eh? Then which one?”

“It can’t be Saint Daenareim, he was Named after we were born.” Din mused, eyes meeting Rin as she nodded in agreement.

“Uh, hey don’t you think it’s getting a bit late? I think I’ll turn in for tonight.” As he said so he stretched to emphasize his point and flopped down on his pallet, almost instantly his breathing slowed and steadied into a rhythm. The siblings looked at each other over the flame of the fire, shrugged, and turned into their own sleeping places soon after.

Late into the night, when the fire had burned down into a few glowering embers and the moon had slipped out of its cloak of clouds, one pair of eyes stayed awake. He had long since figured out his true namesake Saint, but he was, and is still, afraid to ask his parents why they had named him after Saint Nivanead, patron of the Varims and the dark arts.
*
Two days later the small party arrived at the village of Fends, insignificant on the map, yet teetering dangerously on the border dividing Elves and Varims. For some reason unknown, the village had always managed to keep a neutral alliance, stranger still the political parties of both races had left it alone. Perhaps it was too insignificant to bother with. Or perhaps a helping hand had kept it so.

It had been easy enough to find the old Varim gypsy who was rumored to have ties within the cult, they had simply ‘asked’ around the tiny village. He couldn’t help but to feel contempt at the ease of it, some sharp steel pointed at the throat of the right person and information spilled out like lesser Kyrrs swarming upon the attacker of their home. The location of the gypsy was even simpler to find, the village was big as villages go, but the run-down shack stood out like a poison mushroom against a tree’s trunk. It was as if Fate put it there on purpose.

“Go if you must,
Dirty your clean hands
With innocent blood.
Fortune leaves you damned,
Destiny wills you to rot,
No more from Just,
If you mean harm
To Woman, or God.”

The blind eyes had turned toward him as he was about to exit the hut after the siblings,
“You are now warned Child of Grey – your actions tonight will be the pivoting point of your life.” the raspy voice had turned hard for just an instant, and when he had demanded explanation the hag had already resumed her weaving, again singing the nonsensical songs the group had heard when they first entered. He then had no more time to question her further because Din were getting impatient and Rin was eager to be on their way.

It was painlessly easy to get the direction they needed from the gypsy…too easy. So far they had had no reason to kill except for self-defense, and Dane had been left thinking as they looked for the hidden glade of the cultists’ den that it felt like someone was towing them around by the nose, dropping clues when necessary…and what did the old crone meant by calling him ‘Child of Gray’…?

‘This is no time to be mulling over the mystery of the universe!’ he fumed, snapping out of his reverie, ‘we’ll need to come up with something fast to get pass those guards or the whole night will waste away!’

“Hey Dane, you’re frowning again. You’ll get wrinkles early like that y’know?” Rin nudged him, whispering softly.

Dane glanced in her direction, amazed at how she could still retain her humor at a time like this, “Well we’ve been staring at them long enough, willing their feet to budge from the spot by telepathy,” Rin pressed her hands to her mouth, stifling the smile and eventual laughter, “What do you suggest we do? Break in? Find another way?”

“I say we break in, those two won’t take much by way of getting rid of.” Din cut in smoothly as his sister opened her mouth.
“Hold on Din, I know you can easily nail something from hundreds of paces away, but you still can’t get rid of one and not have the other notice! What if the guy raises an alarm and all those guards we took the pains of avoiding come rushing? Saints know what will happen.”

“So we’re just going to crouch here all night? We’ve been around the place a thousand times already! There’s no other way in!”

“How about we make one?”

Both the siblings turned their eyes onto Dane, cocked eyebrow for Din and surprised in Rin’s. He blushed and cursed his big mouth, “Well uh, it’s a new rune casting I’ve read about recently…” ‘Extremely recent, as in the night before the Trial’, he thought to him self, but that piece of information needn’t be said aloud.

“I haven’t had the chance to practice so…it might not work.” He finished, lamely even in his own mind.

The two looked at each other for a moment, Rin then turned to face him, “Well, I know your voice won’t be loud enough to attract attention at this range, but will the casting be noticeable?”

“Yeah, like light converging on a point or something.” Din added, looking skeptical.

“I don’t think there will be anything like that, if I get it right a hole will just appear in the wall, soundless and lightless.”
“There just has to be an ‘if’ doesn’t it?” Din said resignedly, looking even more dubious.

“Haven’t Dane proven himself a thousand times over to us already? Really Din, you should trust people more.” Rin frowned at her brother, causing him to snort, expression dry.

“Hmph, the only people I trust is I, me, and you.”

“People! Save the siblings-love for another time! Are we going ahead with this or not?” Dane cut in, vexed at the two, and not without a little jealousy mixed in.

Sometimes he felt he was just an extra baggage to them, tagging along even though unwanted. He couldn’t even follow what they were talking about most of the time because of their silent, mutual understanding. They switched from one topic to another as easily as breathing air, certainly without the confusion that followed him around like a shadow.

This isn’t the time to be thinking about other things.

The siblings had nodded at him to go on ahead with the casting, the threesome moved stealthily toward the side of the stolid hut unmanned. Reaching a secluded spot, the two backed up a pace or two, allowing Dane his elbow room.

He closed his eyes, mind flipping through the familiar pages of the fragile old thing he had found lying discarded on the floor of the Library one day while he had been trying to find some obscure references for his runes class assignment.

The Naming flowed smoothly from his lips, the gestures perfect. A gaping hole began to eat its way silently outwards on the smooth surface of the wall and stopped at just the right size for three not-yet-grown elves to slip through. He looked around the vicinity, checking for any signs of alarm that may have been sounded, found none. Dane glided through the brush and into the opening as silently as an owl trailing its prey, two silent shadows right behind him.

They emerged into a deserted hallway, lit on intervals with sputtering torches. The ceiling hung low, as a beast crouched to strike. Rotten doors lined the wall opposite them, obviously unoccupied. Din’s ears flickered, the keen hearing of a marksman at work. Their eyes met for conference, a tiny motion of the head from Din toward their left. A light from under a doorway, a short distance along the corridor, glimmered seductively like Varims at night.
*
Blood.

A trail of red slithered slyly right on their heels.

He had lost count of the numerous times Rin’s slender arms rose and snuffed the light of life out of someone’s throat, of the arrows which grew up from an eye or a chest. For every guard they took down, two seemed to spring up from the very earth to take their place. As they fought their way deeper down the secret underground passage, the sickly tang of blood in the enclosed space threatened to overwhelm his consciousness, but his training held and kept his mind firmly in the half-trance state necessary for runes casting.

Dane’s ears pricked up and he swiveled round just in time to dodge a blur of cold steel aimed to cleave his head. An arrow immediately sprouted up from the heart of the assailant, the force of the short-ranged shot knocked the guard backward forcefully and the head landed on the stairs with a sharp crack. Dane was about to turn away from the grisly sight when a wisp of a sound reached his keen ears,

“ools…uture…an’t be chang…”

That was all. An incoherent gurgle of blood prevented him from hearing the last few words of the fallen. The incomplete sentence will, from now, haunt and prey upon his conscience forever more, but he was not to know at the time.
He had known nothing at the time.

The doorway at the end of the passage was barred, from behind its firm bulk Dane could distinctly hear the unmistakable drone of chants. The language was unfamiliar to him, with it’s ugly guttural tones and a sharp, ear-piercing force sounding within each syllable. A hiss of a drawn blade distracted him from trying to catch the Rhyme of the chants and his eyes refocused on the siblings as they dispatched the latest lot of unfortunates to the Resting Ground.

Din lashed out at the last remaining guard and the corpse crumpled soundlessly onto the already blood-saturated ground, still foolishly clutching the halved spear resulted from a vain effort at blocking the elf’s powerful stroke. The distant figure of Din bent down to wipe his blade on the clothes of the fallen, while Rin leaned against the dirt wall of the tunnel, probably catching her breath. He picked his way carefully down the bloodied, therefore slippery, steps, mindful of the trails of his robe.

“Hurry up Dane! At the rate you’re going they’ll be done with whatever they’re doing before you finished dancing down on your tip toes!”

He glowered at Din, but picked up his pace all the same.

The space in front of the plain wooden door was mainly occupied by sacks of unmoving guards, but while he was making his way down the siblings had made enough room for him to inspect their obstacle without the need to rub elbows with the dead.
It was a simple Lock rune and he had it opened in a thrice.

The whole panel of the door dissipated and the threesome stared at the scene before them, first in surprise, then followed closely by its cousin, anger.

As with many Ceremonies this one was laid out in a pentagram, precisely drawn with chalk on the unexpectedly well-paved floor of the vast cavern. Candles on elaborate stands of twining heads, arms, legs, tails and other numerous body parts they were unable to name marched around the perimeter of the room, throwing out sullen lights and disturbing shadows on the insignificant figures of the occupants.

The harsh chanting went on.

All was still except for shadows.

The whole place was fake.

Din let out a curse involving a Skarn and Varim and the unlikely action that may occur between the two, punctuated by a kick at a carved statue standing on one point of the pentagram, not caring even when the chanting abruptly stopped and of the ominous silence that descended onto the very air they breathe. The other two did noticed however, to his good fortune, and roughly pulled him away from the center of the pentagram, where he was standing. Din squirmed, protested at the manner with which he was being held, stopped, turned to look, and watched with slack-jawed amazement the thing which was, at the moment, clearly manifesting itself onto the pentagram.

A wind whipped up from nowhere, furiously beating them into submission and drowned them instantly in darkness as the candles snapped out. They had to hold on to each other then, clutching hands for the small comfort of not being alone in this predicament. Their backs were soon pushed up against the dirt wall of the cavern, the wind painfully tightening the hold on their lungs, drawing out their air as a rope and tucking away at the ends. If they did not die of the crushing wind, they would surely die of the asphyxiation. To make matters even worst than they could possibly imagined, a roar cracked upon them like a whip of lightning, and despite their selves, they screamed.

It was high time to do something about the situation.

But what?

Well. First some light.
*
A memory sprang unbidden into being: a hot, steaming morning in high summer and the oppressive feeling of too much moisture in the air, young elves sitting in ordered rows, fidgeting, whispering, and napping in the well lighted classroom, he himself yawning with the rest as the rune class’ master rattled along about the basic principles of the drawing of runes governed by the major elements, he could hear the insects’ calls, a background buzz that permeated all through the day, the atmosphere beckoned for him to sleep, he did so without resisting.

Think.

What was Master Runorf saying?

Saints, I should have paid more attention to the basics!

Gradually a blurred image of the blackboard, as seen through half-opened eyes besieged with drowsiness, firmed in his mind.

Elements…attributes…earth, wind, water, fire, dark…light…LIGHT!
*
The room blazed.

The siblings cried out from the sudden intense brightness, the too short a difference between pitch black and stark white had rendered their eyes useless and, for the moment, so was their foe’s.

Dane, who had closed his own eyes, was saved from the temporary blindness and was given the advantage of time to take a good look at their adversary.

At first all he saw was a shadow, a writhing, boiling mass of tar-black in the middle of the precise pentangle. Looking closely now at the diagram, he cursed at himself for not recognizing the summoning runes etched into the lines in time, probably rigged to activate as soon as the air was disturbed. His eyes shuttled rapidly from line to line, trying to find out the exact identity of the deity it was designed to summon. The revelation came with widen eyes and cold sweat.

He needed to think, and their was no time for it now that the light he conjured had lessen its intensity, the blindness it had effected at first was wearing off fast. The shadow was now lengthening, whip-like tendrils shooting up to reach the distant ceiling of the cavern. The wind was also picking up again, howling in a vortex with the creature at its center. If the creature finishes its re-manifestation…he didn’t like to think of the consequences.

A squeeze on his left hand, he turned to look down at Rin, whose hand he was holding, and beyond to Din at her other side.
Suddenly a force of realization bowled him over: They were waiting for him.

Of course. It is his area afterall.

Here, there was no monster to bash, no foe to vanquish, for obviously the deity was not a normal fiend with bared fangs or enemies with naked steel. This, they did not understand.

The thought of THE siblings relying on him spurned his mind to greater heights, and he took advantage of it readily.

A deep breath.

“Din, I need the strongest arrow you have,”

Din sifted through his quiver without looking back, knowing each and everyone by feel alone. He pulled out one.
“Tipped with? Silver? Great. Be-spelled? No? Even better. Would you watch the manifestation? Tell me when Its head emerges.” Din nodded and turned towards the deity, eyes narrowed from the wind’s buffeting.

Dane rubbed the silver-tipped arrow and murmured a few runes under his breath. The silver glowed briefly when he finished the Naming and melted without qualms into the bottle he had taken out of one the pockets lining his bag’s strap. He quickly worked a few more bottles free, unstopping and stopping one after another to pour into the silver with his thump, hands steadied from years of practice at handling delicate mixings where one missed drop of mercury would earned him a beating. All the while his lips kept moving, runes falling into the liquid silver as drops of rain soaking into the earth. After a few seconds he murmured the finishing runes, dipped the arrow shaft into the silver and once again held a whole arrow.

“Now Rin, I need you to do something dangerous, but you’re the fastest of us so…alright, listen closely.”

He hurriedly explained what he wanted and watched nervously as the lithe form sped to do as he asked. As she dodged one after another of the knife-like tendrils he frantically ran through the memories of what he had learnt about summoning.
Normally when an adept wishes to summon a deity from the Greater Reaches he will draw, first, the pentacle inscribed with the runes of Invitation and the one True Name of the deity, reinforcing it with ones for Enclosure and Obedience to its order; second, he will draw another outer circle inscribed with the runes of Dismissal, again the True Name included, to send the deity back before any lasting damage may occurred to uproot the Balance. Clearly the pentacle was the Invitation aspect and the order must have been to annihilate any intruders.

There was no Dismissal diagram.

Since he had no time to draw the proper symmetrical Dismissal circle and runes, much less to think, improvisation was the word of the moment.

Rin had done well. He could see the shaky, but complete, softly glowing circle enclosing the pentacle within. He had strengthened the silver with every herb and charms he could think of, for the silver to be of good quality too were a blessing.

Now.

Here goes nothing!
*
The wind was still. There was no other sound of significance but the cold whispers of the moon.

It had seemed an eternity inside the underground hideaway of the cultists, though only, judging by the position of the moon, 5 hours had passed since their stealthy entrance. Too much had happened since then, there were things he needed time to think about, but now the most pressing matter were the slumbering bundle lying snuggly in his arm.

He had to find a place for the child.

A safe place, where she can grow without all of the pains of being a different kind of ‘being’, some ideal place where he had wished he was in.

He also had to go before she changed her mind.

He started walking.
*
It was dawn, or something akin to it. The light was gray, misty and clean. He had picked a direction in the deepest hour of the night, walking as in a dream. He stumbled countless times, his physique unable to keep up with his restless mind. Too many hours indoors did that. Still he kept on going.

He came upon a clearing just as true dawn was making itself known with the soft twittering of bird calls and the stirring of life all around.

A humble cottage sat at the edge of the open space, curled cozily next to a small stream, bathed in the warm light of morning. By then he was too exhausted, and more than a little worried for the still, unusually silent, infant he was clasping protectively to his chest.

He also had no other option.

Dane collapsed right next to the door jamb. And waited.

Very soon the door was opened.

The last thing he remembered before the darkness of his lids was a warm presence, lifting his charge carefully from his arm.
*
“Ee’s a’waking up Master.”

“Aye, aye. Ah’m a’comin’”

Dane sighed, his eyelids cracking open. Disoriented, he tried to place a meaning to what he was seeing, trying to remember, there was something important…He bolted upright.

“Whoa! E’see do’s it tare lad. Y’ safe an’ sound.”

“Oi! Who are ya? What ar’ ya doin’ round dis parts? Why wer’ y’ cover’d in blood? Oi! Y’ listenin’ t’me!? Oi!”

“’Old it right tare Nuile, can yer not see ee’s confused? Don’t worree lad, der pint’s oll yap, nary a bite.”

Dane blinked, one time, two times. Finally he remembered he had a mouth equipped, “Er…where am I?”

“Y’ in der place y’ collapsed in front oof. Duh.”

A sharp crack, resulting from a knuckle connecting with a head, resounded inside the small space,

“Dat do’s it y’ rascal! Oout! Make y’self useful and brung a tray o’ food in fer our gues’!”

Dane watched, in mild amusement, as the younger Quelar dashed out of the room, tail puffed up in what was clearly defiance.

Silence fell. He was feeling a little more than intimidated, reasonably so too, this being the first time he ever had the chance to talk to a live Quelar with no threatening glares or the chance of an ‘accidentally’ loosed arrow in his side.

The silence stretched, suddenly anxiety for his charge forcefully reasserted it self,

“S, Sir, where is…?”

“Ah, no need ta worree, der cub’s over tare.” The stately feline pointed toward the far side of the room with a flick of his soft ears, as he reassured the young Elf.

He sighed unconsciously in relief, freed of the most pressing worry. He had then the leisure to study his surroundings.

He was in a sparsely furnished room, probably the one facing the front of the cottage, with small shuttered windows thrown wide open to let in as much of the slowly fading dusk as possible. A door stood ajar a few feet from the foot his bed, through which he could see the young Quelar called Nuile bustling about, clanking things onto a wooden tray set on what he gathered to be an all-purpose table sitting in the middle of the packed-soil room. The bed he was sitting on was pushed up against the far wall, into a corner of the cottage, and on his other side lay a bed mat, probably where Nuile sleep at night, layered comfortably with several kinds of fur. Beyond the make-shift bed a small, cheery fire crackled its greetings at him. A pile of cushion was arranged carefully near, but not too much, the fireplace, with his charge slumbering peacefully on it.
All in all, it didn’t tell him much about the cottage’s inhabitants.

“Ya musta bin a’walkin’ oll night lad. Judgin’ by d’sight of yon clothin’ an’ passin’ oout an’ oll dat.”

Attention snapped back, he answered, tripping slightly on his tongue as he struggled to answer properly, “A, Ah, yes sir. That’s right.”

“Aye lad, Ah’m no ‘sir’, der name’s Roide, an’ ya’ve prob’ly gat’ered but dat’s tare my ‘prentice, Nuile.”

“Pleased to meet you si…uh, Master Roide. I am called Dane.” He didn’t give his full name, not from distrust, but felt it would seem too pompous to the elder being if he gave his mouthful of a name.

The graying Quelar nodded in pleasure, “Aye, well met Dane. Y’ lern fas’ lad, Ah lik’ dat. Now,” at this he turned his head sideways, to fix his, presumably, better right eye on Dane, “wot be yer wantin’ round this ‘ere backwoods oof a’ place? Far from ‘ome an’ wi’ a cub clearly unrelated ter ya at dat. Not ta mentioned bein’ cover’d in blo’d an’ such lke.”

The gaze was direct, belying intelligence far greater than his rustic accent made to seem. It was also kind, and instinctively made him want to spill out all of his dark, heavy thoughts.

Still, Dane held back, not wanting to unburden all of his troubles on strangers who were generous enough to have given him shelter. He was already going to ask them too much already.

“Ah’m likin’ y’ more an’ more lad. Don’t ya worree, dis ol’ Quelar can take wotever’s comin’ Ah’ve seen troubles oof der wors’ kind in mah y’unger days. An’ Nuile, ‘mpossble as it may se’m, kno’es wen ter keep ‘ees mouth shut.”

For a moment his eyes dangerously filled, and he had to blink quickly a couple of times before he mastered his emotions,
“I thank you, Master Roide…but I don’t know where to begin…”

The tiger-striped Quelar chuckled, “Ah’m gonna giv’ yer one advice lad: begin a’ der beginnin’ an’ go on till der end.”

Dane nodded. He took a deep breath and let it out in a sigh, “Well Master, see my mom and father…”

Nuile had come and gone, the food had disappeared, the fire had burned lower, and Nuile’s soft snores can be heard from the room outside when he finished his tale. All throughout Roide sat in silent concentration, only occasionally prompting for Dane to go on.

Dane felt strangely light after he had done with the thirsty task. Although he should be worried about the trustworthiness of the Quelar, the thought hadn’t even entered his mind in the slightest whisper. It was such a relief to let spill all that had been bothering him for the past few days – was it only days? – all the strange, unexplainable things…there was the incident with gypsy, the cultist’s last words, etc. etc. Also, he felt a kind of bond with Roide, as if he had met him somewhere before and were quite close…but that wouldn’t be possible.

“Hm…dat shore was an interestin’ tale lad. Lemme chew on it fer awhil’. Y’ go oon an’ sl’ep, y’ prob’ly tir’d from ol der talkin’.”

Dane dutifully lay down and pulled his covers up, watching through half-opened eyes at the aged Quelar padding towards the fireplace. He bent down to check on the babe lying in peace on the cushions before laying him self down and curled into a Quelar style sleeping position, arranging the other cushions surrounding him into a more comfortable nest.
Soon the soothing sounds of a home in deep slumber and the night lulled him to slip into the blissful dark of unconsciousness. However…

He dreamed.
*
It didn’t work.

He was absolutely certain he had had the right Dismissal rune and Name, so either the improvised circle really was of no use or his wand just didn’t have the level of power required for such a casting.

They were looking at him.

What to do?

Better come out with it then, no use wasting any more time. Not to mention it might fatal to do so.

“Right, sorry people, but I think we’ll have to take this big lug out in the old ways.”

“Argh, I knew it was no good!”

“Quiet Din, Dane tried his best, which is more than can be said about us, standing around like this.”

“Your luck’s in Dane, we’ll sort this out later. Now, let’s just get this over with!”

Din’s arms were a blur as he strung and loosed three arrows in quick succession. All found its marks, testified by the howl of rage from the gaping hole in the middle of the mass. He continued on loosing the arrows, trying to keep as many occupied as possible.

Rin dashed in, using her brother’s distraction as an advantage, while continuously slicing left and right with her claws at any tendril aimed at her with the ease of cutting cheese. A final jump and she was right under the maw. She extended her claws till they were at least two feet long and plunged both in as far as they would go.

The howl turned into a noise screeching on the line between a scream and a wail, having the quality of being disturbing and skin-crawling, plus the extra instant deaf effect on their sensitive ears.

With ears ringing and eyes watering from the pain, Rin tugged free her claws and grabbed one of the specially mixed potion Dane had made and threw it into the cacophonic void above her, before somersaulting back and sprinting for all she was worth for the far end of the cavern where the two others were at.

There was a sound akin to a gulp, but multiplied ten times for sheer size.

A rumble started, throwing them off their feet. Dane just had had the time to shout a barrier rune before a blast of fire rammed into them, scorching everything in their range and burning white hot right into their faces.

The rumble became an all-out quake, as the flames filled in and sucked all the air out of the cavern, creating a sort of vacuum in the perfectly enclosed space. When there was no more air to be found, it tried to eat away at the dirt and tiles at their feet.

With a final groan the floor beneath them gave way and they fell into the black chasm.

And fell.

And fell.
*
Thanking the Saints he had taken the pain of learning every single warding rune, and levitation, known to the Elven, Dane carefully lowered their globe of barrier down into the chasm that had opened from the destruction of the cavern.

“Saints blessed us! I thought we would be making an early visit to the Resting Ground for a minute there.”

“So did I! What exactly did you put into that potion Dane?”

“I’ll tell you, but unless you want to fall Saints-know-how-many-feet down there you’ll let me concentrate first!”

That shut the two siblings up instantly.

Dane raised his eyebrows, ‘Really, I wish this would happen more often…’ he thought wryly.

It was awhile later when they were finally able to land and stand on their own feet. Dane whispered again the rune of Light, and conjured it into several small globes, revolving slowly around their vicinity. They could now see the mess of jumbled stones, tiles, and a whole lot of dust stretching endlessly into the almost tangible darkness.

“Sure was a long way down huh?”

“Yeah,” replied Din absently, “hey Rin, can you hear that?”

“What?”

“Shhh! Listen!”

Then they finally heard it clearly. A sobbing sound, coming directly from in front of them.

Din was already off with Rin following close on his heels, running as quietly as possible while trying not to stumble on the uneven ground, when Dane snapped into himself and followed suit.

When he finally caught up the siblings had already stopped, apparently staring at a something or someone on the ground. He cautiously stepped around the two.

A Human woman laid, gasping in tiny shallow breaths in what appeared to be a kind of ceremonial ground, etched all over her naked body and the ground were thousands upon thousands of miniscule runes, to serve what purpose he did not know and did not care to guess. A bawling baby, who the woman have just obviously given birth to and the source of the cries, laid not far from her. It was a miracle that the debris did not fall on the two, but the strangeness of the situation had failed to register in him, for the surprise was too great to leave much room for anything else.

After the initial shock passed, Dane quickly went down on one knee next to the woman, holding up his wand above her and readying his mind for the strongest string of healing runes he knew. A hand landed sharply on his shoulder.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

Dane shrugged Din’s hand off, irritated at the inane question, “I’m going to heal her of course, she won’t last much longer if-”

The sentence cut off abruptly. Dane turned his head slowly from Din, looking from the point of contact, the woman’s heart, up to the clawed hand, following the line of the slender arm until it reached Rin’s eyes.

The stab was executed with precision for there was no sound of hitched breathing. She just had simply stopped in the act of living.

Rin withdrew the claw slowly and serenely flick away the few drops of blood that had collected along the bright, wickedly gleaming blade.

He found his tongue again after a long chilling pause, even the bawling baby seemed to hold its breath, “Rin-“
The un-retracted claw seemed to materialized from thin air to rest lightly, even playfully, against his throat.

“Your forgetfulness hurts me deeply Dane, truly it does. Why, I would go so far as to say you’ve forgotten all about your sworn oaths!”

The shock at her unexpected action dissolved completely with anger, “What forgetfulness!? I was only trying to-“

“Oh shush! I know what you were about to do! Have you ever stopped to think of the consequences? But I see you are not getting any of this,” the deadly point of the claw traced its way down to his heart, “Have you ever wondered exactly why your revered father was disinherited?”

Dane’s expression was scornful of the question but the threat hovering dangerously near his heart reminded him of his place, “He refused to kill.”

“Yes, and his opinion would have incurred little consequence if,” here she depressed the claw a little, just to make sure she had his attention, “he didn’t voice it during the Trial of Life, and the fact that he spared a Varim, of all the races!”

“I know all this! What are you getting at Rin?”

She made a tutting sound, “You, with all your glorious oaths of reclaiming your lost name, have already forgotten all of it in just the space of the moment! You were just about to do the same as your father!”

“The woman hasn’t done anything! How can healing her be considered a betrayal of the Elven?”

“I won’t let you ruin the chance to pass the Trial because of your misplaced sympathy Dane, certainly not now when we are so close!”

“Rin stop it! Dane, the woman’s dead now whether you like it or not, so stop with this nonsense. You as well Rin, what do you think you would achieve by bickering with him like this?” Din interjected exasperatedly as he grasped the wrist of Rin’s hand and moved it away from Dane’s heart.

Rin removed her hand obediently, too obediently, and turned instead to the new born bundle of misery lying in exhausted slumber near her feet.

He saw what she was about to do and lunged, grabbing the babe in the momentum just in time to saved it from being speared in the heart like its mother.

Rin’s face twisted into an ugly mask as she started after Dane, all her claws now fully extended.

“Stop where you are Rin! I won’t let you get kill this child!”

The mask twitched into a smirk, “You won’t let me? Pray do tell how you are going to stop me!”

Dane’s mind raced, searching for anything he could use to give him an edge, “Kill this child and I’ll leave the two of you down here! See if you can climb that far up to the surface on your own!”

Rin’s face fell in realization for just a moment, and schooled up into a smirk again just as quickly, “Well then, I’ll make you take us up!”

“No, Rin! He’ll be gone by the time you reach him! Stay where you are!”

Rin bit her lip in frustration but consented to her brother’s command. Normally the strange reversal of roles would have amused Dane, but in the present situation, gaiety would have stuck out like a Quelar with hands instead of paws.

Din came up beside his sister and laid a restraining hand of her shoulder, “I’ll make a deal with you Dane. You get to keep the child’s life, and I think you are at least smart enough know what will happen to all of us if this is let out,” Dane nodded in confirmation, ignoring the jibe, and looked down at the babe in his arms. Such a risk he was taking and on an impulse! The risk of breaking his word to succeed in his father’s place, the risk of losing a life’s chance of studying under the Judge himself, and the risk of being seen as a betrayer of his own people…all this just for an unknown child…

Rin continued, in a voice as icy as her eyes, “In return, you will take us up out of this place via your runes magic and I – we - will swear not to harm you or the child once we are on firm ground but,” Dane looked up at the ‘but’ and held firm as the piercing greenness of both their eyes bore into him “I swear to the Arc-Saint and the Saint of our namesake, I’ll hunt you down till I reach the furthest reaches of the Resting Ground if after this I ever see a hair of its hide anywhere within breathing space of the City!”

And Dane knew she meant every single syllable.
*
It was when the ‘traitor’ was out of sight when they set the inconspicuous hut which had housed many a sinners earlier that night to burn. The silence was complete except for the roar of the hungry fire and the groan of cracking timber. They stood next to eac

Description
Anathema: Elven Test

Light filtered down through the roof of greenery over their heads, the songs and whispers of the forest broken only by their footsteps over the debris underneath. He watched and followed his father’s back before him, a familiar sight ever since he was able to stand and looked up into the kind blue eyes. Their silent walk had become a routine, at first he would walk in front of his father greeting the birds with their calls, later he would fall back to walk alongside the older man on the stream’s bank, watching the silvery flashes of fishes in the clear water. At the end he would walk slower yet again, at first from child-like fatigue and later by choice, contented just to see the solid back of his icon.

There was something different that day, a tension in the air perhaps, or an out of place lining of his father’s over-robe, but he could do nothing until the older man broached the issue first. He was known for speaking little and made all his words count, all the more reason to listen closely.

The back stopped, he did also, a few paces behind. He could hear his father let out a held back breath and watched as the head turned sideways a little, an indication for him to move forward.

A few steps and he were by his father’s side, looking him straight in the eyes. Sky’s blue eyes met polished mahogany with easy familiarity, his father nodded a little, perhaps an approval for what he saw, and spoke,

“So Daenavin, you have finally reached the stage where your faith must be tested. Tomorrow, if or when you pass your trial, you will no longer be a child following my footsteps but a true elf that have surpassed his father.”

He paused then, turning away his head to look at the Tooi bird which had come to perch nearby, the bird flitted away and he turned back his head toward his son, continued in a solemn tone,

“Remember that you will be under the tutelage of Judge Frollo Remue when you pass, he will demand hard work and patience, and you are to give it to him.”

He paused again and a hand reached out to grasp his son’s shoulder, gave it a little squeeze,
“You are silent today Daenavin, tell me, how do you feel about this trial?”

Daenavin lowered his eyes, searched into his soul for an answer. The hand fell away, tucked again into the voluminous robe, and still he had no answer. Only when he looked up again, into his father’s eyes, did the answer came to him,
“I know that I am ready, father, and I will surely bring honor to our family.”

A small smile turned up the corners of the lined mouth and his father nodded in acknowledgment,
“Well then, the youth is hope for tomorrow after all. I know you will succeed. Go on now Dane, I believe your friends are waiting for you at The Grove.”

He smiled at the familiar nickname, and asked, “What of you father?”

“I believe I will stay a little longer. Come home when you have seen your friends, your mother have been preparing all your favorite dishes since yesterday.”

The smile on his face grew wider, a trace of boyhood still lingered, and he sprinted off, extremely un-clergymen-like. The previous Tooi bird watched the elf youth leapt over the low fence surrounding what was actually a massive park, before lifting up again into the air and sailed into the breeze. Spread out below was the capital of the Elves, wooden houses constructed so as to disturb the natural surroundings as little as possible with only cobbled streets and paved highways to indicate the presence of the city at all. The street bustled and the markets thrived, and life goes on, no matter how many times people rise and fall.
*
Dane, called so by his family and friends, slowed down to a walk after awhile, set for him self a leisurely pace. The sun was shining and its warmth bathed his long saffron hair, tied simply at the nape. Various passing pedestrians and shop keepers called out to him in greeting, all of which he replied with a good-natured smile and nod. He turned and weaved around streets, alleys, sideways and occasionally a garden’s fence, familiar terrains since childhood. A final leap and he reached his destination: a tall, imposing oak.

The ancient tree had stood there since time immemorial, providing all underneath with its immense shade. It had once been a pagan ceremonial ground, a center of a city, and a dependable fort in war all through its long age. As of present it had become a center for commerce, with various shops and stalls sprouting up like mushrooms, nestling comfortably right up into one of the lower branches. He had, as a boy with ten or so of his friends, attempted to ring the base of the gigantic guardian. Sufficient to say they failed.

He approached the site, staring up as always in admiration of the regal being. No sooner had he stepped into the edge of the shade did a hand made contact with the back of his head, not one intended for harm but rather for noise. Nevertheless, the force propelled him forward a couple of paces before he was able to regain his balance and wheeled back angrily, mouth opened, about to say a few un-clergy-like words before he saw who it was and bit back his reply. Instead, he settled on the choice of glaring holes into his friends.

A pair of boy and girl stood, trying to look inconspicuous, where he was standing a moment before. Any passerby will be able to tell in a glance that the two are related, both boasting clear viridian eyes and the same nut brown hair, one clipped at the nape and the other loose over bare shoulders. They were dressed simply, even though the cloths were of brilliant weave and tailor, certainly not the kind of dress you would expect on the children of the Elven General.

The glaring and the innocuous act went on for awhile, then, unable to stand it any longer, the girl burst into a clear laugh, much like what you may expect to hear if rivers had a voice. The boy came forward toward the still scowling Dane, and slung an arm over his green-clad shoulder,

“You’ve got to watch your back more mate, it’ll save your life one day no doubt.”

Earning for him self a more, if it were possible, withering glare, Amrodin turned back towards Amerrin, beseeching for help with a look only siblings can share. Amerrin grinned, a mischievous gleam in her eyes, as she bound over to the two boys. She gave no warning as, with a final bound, she lightly somersaulted over the two and push both of them from behind. They yelled and tried to snatch at the girl, who good-naturedly dodged with ease. The chase was on, as the pair of boys ran and shouted out laughingly at the girl, on the other side the girl, dancing always out of reach.

At last, the girl led them to a bare spot underneath the spacious clearing and collapsed down onto the springy moss, with the boys following, one on either side. They lay there, breathing in deeply and looked up at the distant sky through the foliage above. The light slowly melted into the color of flame as they banter good-naturedly back and forth. As the light was about to fade completely, Amerrin spoke up,

“It’s already tomorrow isn’t it? The Trial of Life…” she trailed off, eyes unfocused on a distant dream.

“Dreaming of the Legion again, Rin?” her brother said exasperatedly, having been put through several of her passionate monologues praising the valor and deeds of the Legion of the Wise, her ambition to be a part of their ranks, etc. etc.

“I’ll have to go along and keep an eye on you again…”

Rin pushed her brother affectionately on the shoulders, knowing full well that the Legion is also his dream.

“Those dreams will all come true tomorrow when we pass the test! I’ll finally be able to prove my family’s worth…no one will dare to defile the name of Runegasn again!” Dane burst out unexpectedly.

Two green pairs of eyes regarded him and two pairs of arms reached out to embraced him in comfort. It was they, years ago, who stood up for him in front of all the other children intent on bullying him. He knew the cause, of course, but he believed in his father. Cutting a long story short, they were friends ever since.

“Well it’s getting late, we better head home Din, or Mam will be after us again.”

“You’re right, I haven’t even recovered from yesterday’s beatings yet.” He grinned as he imagined the old caretaker running after them along the airy hallway of their mansion.

“You better go and check over your things with the old man again Dane, no telling what may happen between now and tomorrow!” Rin playfully teased him, an old joke stirring a fluttering of amusement between the three.

“What ever you wish my lady,” Dane replied with a mock bow, “So I’ll see the two of you tomorrow at the Gate of Truth then, don’t be late!”

The three friends parted, as daylight diminished and darkness descended among the shades of trees. Glowing drops of illumination flickered into life along the pathways of the city, natural concoctions of secret ingredients put into place everyday by the Illuminator clans, each section of the city would vie against each other, trying to outdo the other’s brightness and durability.

Dane stopped by a stall selling various herbs and berries from the forest, stocking up on his medicinal supply. He would spend a little time after dinner tonight mixing up a batch of his elixirs, sure to be useful tomorrow. They will need all the support he could provide to get through till the end of the week long Trial.

With a last look at the light-ornamented, majestic oak, a few more nods toward the people he knew, and a wary glance at one of the other group of young elves still loitering around the clearing, he turned toward the lively Traders section of the city, where strange wares and even stranger merchants flocked together, setting up their exotic shops. The stalls around The Grove provided all the average elf needs, but for the truly awe-inspiring and the greatest, if hard to find, quality, the specialized section was where you will go to eventually, and he had met one of those rare merchants that barter but never cheat.

The streets grew a little darker, as he passed from the city’s center into its outer rims, the Illuminators here content only on being the second-best, too lazy to compete with the larger, and better funded, prominent clans. The shops have their own window’s lights however, some filtered through years of grime, some through stained glass masterpieces. His feet came to rest in front of a decent-looking shop, unusually bare on the front’s decoration and cleaner than most, eyes noticing the old man Niev had changed his shop sign to read ‘KEEP OUT’ instead of ‘Welcome World-Weary Travelers’.

Cocking up an eyebrow, he boldly leapt up the two short steps to the front door, landed lightly and banged on the stern wooden door. Silence answered his knock, after a few minutes of waiting he decided to call out,

“Sir?! SIR! Are you coming to open the door or not? I’ll break the glass like the last time if you don’t!” he jokingly threatened, as his body feigned a charge against the no doubt expensive swirled-glass window panes.

The door flew open at once and a thunderous voice crushed against his ears,

“YOU LAY A FINGER ON THAT GLASS AND I’LL SMASH YOUR EQUIPMENTS TO PIECES,” Pause for breath, “YOU INSOLENT PUP!”

Dane laughed as he answered fearlessly, “Time was you would be able to say the sentence in a single breath Niev sir, getting old at last?”

A whistling sigh, “Ay, if I am it’ll be caused by you young’uns. Gods know, that pair of sibling winded me up like nothing else!”

Dane patted the elder person’s back reassuringly, bending down quite far, as the top of Niev’s head only reached his chest. The three friends had been coming to and fro between the dwarf’s shop ever since they’d discovered Niev’s habit of keeping sweets in his pocket, among other interesting things in the bottomless space. As years go by, the affection between them increased with the passing of seasons, they had called him ‘sir’ out of respect, before long the word turned into a good-natured joke for the youths when Niev didn’t seem to mind being called ‘old man’ or, on a good day, just his name.
“I hope you haven’t done anything I don’t want to pay for on my things again old man!” Dane said warningly as he followed the dwarf-smith-slash-merchant into the shop’s interior.

Weapons from all the corners of the world clustered densely around the remaining walls not given to the front windows, Dane’s eyes traced along one wall, where a selection of wands have been lined up on cushions of its own. He knew he’ll never be able to afford even a chip of wood off these artifacts, each a priceless work of art and powerful in its own ways. Perhaps someone with a purse like the siblings would be able to buy them, but he had long since decided never to ask the pair for anything, even if his life depended on it.

“Don’t worry your head over the little things youngster. You’re starting to sound like me own mother and that ain’t a good thing.”

Dane grinned, previous gloom lifted as he watch Niev lumbers around the back of the counter in front of him, mumbling to him self in his curious accent, a kind of cross between dwarfish gruffness and elfin preciseness, chin on hand.
“Here you go then, you might as well take them home now, don’t have to waste time coming back again.” Niev said as he lifted quite a large package onto the counter, still strong with working smith’s arms even though pure white hair and beard graced his features, completed with thick glasses perching on a long thin nose.

“You mean you finished already? Thank you sir!” Dane gleefully unwrapped the canvas paper, spraying bits of strings and dust all over the spotless counter.

Niev’s eyes gleamed as he affectionately watched Dane’s face transform from happiness into sheer ecstasy, hands held up to the light with his finest work in its grasp.

White, just like the clouds and Niev’s hair, and almost like water to his touch, a finely weaved robe spilled down in waves, catching and reflecting the scant light. However the true awe lies beyond mere looks with all of Niev’s works, as he saw in-between the threads woven a regularly dispersed shine: metal. Even more than that…
Dane’s eyes widen as he slowly lowered his hands, “Niev…this…I can’t accept it! You’ve spent a fortune’s worth of mythril on me!”

Niev wagged his finger at the young elf, “Now haven’t I taught you the value of gifts? This here robe will protect you from the full brunt of all elements and even physical attacks. Wear it like a lucky charm if you will, it’ll keep you safe and bring you home.” The beard moved at the last sentence, briefly turned up into the fleetest of smile, before fading away.
An unmanly feeling burned at the back of Dane’s forehead and as a result his eyes gleamed more than usual. He nodded gratefully. Words lodged at the back of his throat, waiting to be said, but all he could do was to hope Niev could see the real feeling in his eyes.

“It’s getting quite late youngster, you’d better start heading home, early day tomorrow and all that.”

Dane nodded again, said his farewells and headed out of the shop, holding onto his gift tightly. An expression set onto his face, one which combined determination and fear all into one, determination for success, fear of disappointment in those he love.
*
The quiet of the night remained unbroken but for the few sounds of small animals and its hunters, the buzz of insects and the air. Dane followed the path leading further out of the city, no fear for the now abundant darkness, illumination dim and far between each circles of light. The night grew denser still as the moon hid behind the trees.

At last a familiar light wink out at him from between the trees and he quicken his pace, soon after he arrived on a familiar sight, a small two-storey house curled between the bases of two trees, warm yellow lights spilling out from every window. Branches of the trees twined in and out of the building, poking holes into the floorboards and walls. How the family inside found enough flat space for furniture was anyone’s guess.

Closing the door gently behind him, he set off down the central hallway of the house, possibly the only place where branches were not present, steps light and soft, as is customary of an elf. Low whispering voices sifted out of a crack in the door immediately before him, his parents’.

“…too kind for his own good, he won’t be able to kill those poor innocents.”

Dane stopped in his tracks, ears unconsciously trained on his mother’s voice.

“We’ll have to wait and see, Vyna, he will have to decide on his own…” the voice abruptly stopped and Dane hastily stepped back a ways, just in time, as the door opened and his father came out.

“Hello father, I’m sorry for being so late…”

“Dane, dearest, is that you?” the sweet face of his mother appeared behind his father’s and although lined, still retained much of her youthful captivity.

“I’m home mom, sorry again for the lateness.”

Vyna broke into a tender smile, though he couldn’t helped but to noticed the too shiny glimmer in her dark eyes, and she came forward toward him, holding out her arms. He stepped into her embrace readily, aware that it maybe the last time he will able to do so without the embarrassment of an adult. A few moments of comforting warmth seeped into his soul and he breathed in his mother’s scent, a scent of herbs which lingered and will never be completely erased, a trademark of any of the Brewer clans. He is the son of a lowly Brewer girl and the failed heir of one of the most prominent Warrior clan, yet despite all the difficulties he faced as a child growing up in such a situation, not once did the thought of hating his parents crossed his mind. He had accepted that his father was too kind to be able to harm a living being and his mother loved his father because of it.

Surely no one could want any thing more than love.

He gently broke away from his mother, “I’ll be alright mom. I’ve got your teachings to aid me and father’s skills to save me, I won’t fail.”

Vyna’s permanently stained hand stroke his face, “I know dearest, now go on up to your room. You must have a good meal and a good sleep, tomorrow comes soon.”

The couple stood together at the doorway to the sitting room, watching their only son climbed up the steep stairway. When the last swish of cloth vanished, Vyna’s tense emotions snapped and the held back tears spilled down, tracing the full contours of her face. A single drop hang suspended on the tip of her round chin, before a gentle but firm hand of her husband brushed it away.
*
The hushed silence of early morning greeted his ears, his eyes blinked, once, twice, and closed again in a sigh before they opened again in full consciousness. He sat up, a hand ran through his hair in an attempt to tame the wild tangle, his other worked on the catch of a small window next to his bed. When opened, small wisps of fog rolled in, with it the perfume of dew and living green things. He stared into space, an ill feeling, perhaps a leftover of a dream, still drifted in his mind. He shook his head to clear away the distraction, swung down from the bed, and landed lightly on the floor several feet below. The room was a high one, though narrow, and he had his work tables underneath the bed to save space. Strangely neat for a boy’s room, but it couldn’t be help since otherwise there won’t be any room to maneuver.

Shelves of various sizes lined all four walls, the biggest one had been his bed. He went to one set immediately in front of him, next to the door leading outside. On a small padding he had collected from bird’s feathers lay a simple wand, a present from his mother when he turned of age. Polished till it shone the color the same as his eyes and set with only a small ring of pearl at the base, the only interesting feature of it seemed to be the peculiar shape, a slight curve near the base for better grip and a hook shaped top. For some reason unknown, it had always reminded him of a scythe.

He fingered along the smooth surface, feeling for the power within the wood, the spirit of the tree from which the wand had come. It was a young oak, not nearly as powerful as some of the wands he saw in Niev’s shop but full of energy. They would go far together.

He turned back toward one of his work tables, cleared last night and laid out with all the items he will need in the Trial. A sturdy pack lay opened, another of Niev’s work, cut into the perfect size and shape to fit snugly against his body for fluid movement, spare changes of clothes lay folded neatly to one side, tucked in between the layers were several fist-size bottles of medicines and the basic antidotes, all of which he had concocted the night before. Space would be left for dried foods, other rations, his one herbal tome and mixing instruments, in the case of any other antidotes or elixirs which may be needed. The one strap that will lie across his chest was fitted with numerous pockets, in which he placed all of his inventions: acids, exploding gas, sleeping gas, tears gas, etc.

He dressed comfortably, a thick shirt of natural material and pants of the same stuff, both of a subtle color, boots worn into softness over time, polished and freshly shod with a metal base, and to complete the outfit, Niev’s gift.

Dane padded softly down the stairs, occasionally using the interspersing branches as a step, and out of the front door. He had already said his farewells last night before going up to bed, knowing him self that he will never be able to do it in the morning.

At the bend of the path he turned back to look at the serene house in the morning light, before his face hardened and he turned away, toward his destiny.
*
The rustles of trees and quiet birdsongs enveloped him, but all his senses were alert, trained toward the smallest of noise. Over and over again it had been drilled into him as a child of the dangers of the world outside the Gate of Truth. For him to walk further down the path of Life he will have to eventually face Truth, and he thanked the Gods he was able to do so with two of his most trusted companions. The Allocation of Truths that morning surfaced again in his mind’s eyes, as he carefully avoided a pile of dry leaves, taking care to step as quietly as possible in the volatile outside world.

Judge Frollo himself had come up to him as he stood at attention beside the siblings at the open grounds before the Gate, tensely waiting for the Allocation. The Judge had asked for his name and when he gave it a look of recognition flare up in the sharp eyes, and a small smile turned up the usually grim mouth. A feeling at the back of his head rebelled against such an expression. However, he couldn’t, or perhaps wouldn’t, let the emotion made its way into his eyes. Disrespect wasn’t something he wanted to show to someone who he might be spending the better of part of his life learning from.

The Judge gave them a different mission from the rest, or so he said, because he saw something in Dane’s eyes which were quite different from, and promised much more, than his father.

He didn’t know whether to take it as an insult or praise.

Judge Frollo Remue exact words were, “Well then, Daenavin Runegasn, Amrodin and Amerrin Kruelaris, I Allocate to you the task of exterminating the followers of Saint Grist’s cult. As you most likely know, cultists such as these are deviating from their normal practices as of late.” The Judge paused, looked into each of their eyes, and back to Dane, “No doubt you have heard from the Head Priest himself of the ill-feelings amassing in the outside world. I make no claims that the mission will not be dangerous. So,” the small smile again, “take care to come back in one piece…although,” the smile grew by a fraction, “you might be missing some pieces of your body. Just think of it as war souvenirs.”

Chills from those words still lingered in his spine, and made the warm day seemed colder than it should be. It lingered even through the three small scuffles with rabid beasts along their way toward what they gathered to be a small village, the base of the cult they were after.

He seemed to view all of his and other’s actions from a faraway place, as if not entirely connected to his body. He watched the graceful form of Rin turned into a deathly weapon as a brawler, the retractable claws on her hands even more fatal than the real ones of the beasts attacking them. He saw, too, the arrows which sprouted up from the eyes and heads of the beasts, courtesy of Din the marksman as he covered Rin’s back from harm, also the occasional flash of steel as the creatures got too close to use the bow and Din had to dispatched them with the long knife hanging by his side. He noticed his own white clad arms, raised and swept around periodically in gestures, once throwing an acid bottle full into the face of a rabid wolf, sometimes the wand traced out the runes of Healing while his other hand pointed toward the siblings, indicating the pathway for the energy to go.

The day drew to a close, the shadows underneath the trees deepened and the usual morning noises of leaves rustling intensified into a more sinister variant, eyes seemed to glow from the oddest of places, the sound of their breath grew too loud, the steps too careless, and the heart too thunderous. It was their first time out of their safe haven after all.
They reached a small clearing just as the last slip of the sun’s rays drained down the horizon, leaving the wood in complete darkness with the stars’ light only specks of dust in the huge sky, the sliver of moon hidden behind brewing clouds signified a cold night ahead.

Din scouted around the fringes of the clearing, looking for firewood with his superior night sight, while Rin cleared a space in the middle of the small clearing in preparation for the campfire. He set down his pack with a sigh of relief and readied himself for one last runes casting for the night.

The familiar glow of the symbols slid into his mind’s eye and he raised his wand, tracing out the runes in a translucent light as he Named each one, giving them power from the tree’s spirit in the wand. The band of light hovered, eager to be set free like a bird in a cage, revolving slowly around his form. With a graceful wave and flick of his other hand the light ring contracted once and expanded to surround the entire clearing, fusing seamlessly into each stem of grass. The Ring of Protection would last until morning and would make them invisible to any creature that may pass by. Din stepped into the clearing just in time as the defense rose up to merged above their heads, flashed once and was gone, dissipating into each air particles.

Din whistled appreciatively and grinned, setting down his load of wood next to the busy Rin, “Looks like our luck is in place Rin, Mr. I-failed-runes-class here’s in charge of our safety for the night. I wonder if I’ll be sleeping next to a pair of fangs in the morning,”

Dane smiled sardonically as he replied, “Oh, I’m sure you’ll be sleeping with the prettiest of the ones out there, they won’t be able to resist your notorious charm, Mr. Popular. Also, need I remind you that this ‘failed-in-runes-class’ just saved your hide earlier today?”

“Oh ho, getting wise-cracking now are we?”

“Not as much as you are I believe,”

“Of course, as they say, sarcasm is the highest form of wit after all,"

“Indeed and here I am, thinking, that your wit is the lowest form of sarcasm.”

“GUYS! Cut it out!” Rin burst out along with two successive whacks of the head on the taller males, who were standing glaring at each other with eyes that sparked lightning.

“Ow! Hey, hey, go easy on me will you? I’m your little brother!”

“‘Little’ my foot! You’re a hand taller than me!”

“I was saying it in terms of age Rin!”

Another whack resounded and complete silence filled the clearing, Dane eyeing the girl he knew since childhood in a rather new light, but not necessarily in a better perspective.

Rin whirled round to glare at him and he unconsciously stepped back a little, smiling in a rather awkward fashion under her reprimanding gaze.

“Ah…well, I better get started on that dinner then.”

Thankfully for him she smiled in response to his cautious tone and giggled as she turned back toward her ‘fallen’ brother and pulled him up by the arm, the boy still covering his head from the blows his sister generously gave.

After they had finished the soup made from wild mushrooms and herbs, warmed bread, and fresh water, all three laid out their sleeping pallets around the fire, although they only sat on it and faced each other across the crackling flame.

“You know I’ve never thought the outside world would be so dark.” Rin ventured out, as the silence deepened along with the night.

“Yeah, it’s times like this that you think of the Illuminators.” Din mused as the firelight flickered strangely in his eyes.

“Hmm,” Dane’s eyes were fixed on the heavens above and he wasn’t actually listening to the siblings as they banter about aimlessly. ‘The stars sure are bright out here…you couldn’t see stars like these even in the dimmest part of the city.’ The sound of his name made him look toward the siblings that sat on his far side, across the popping fire.

“Dane, tell us the story again. You know,” Rin added as he looked perplexed, “the one about the creation of the first Elves by the Arc-Saint.”

“We’ve heard that one for a million times already Rin! I’ll rather hear about the one when Saint Amerran fought with the poisonous wyverns!”

Dane chuckled, “You do like to hear about the Saint you’re named after don’t you, Din?”

“Well, wouldn’t you like the same?” Din retorted as he flushed a little red, later he would probably say that it was from the heat of the fire.

“Oh that’s right, we’ve never hear a story about the Saint you’re named after Dane, though, granted, you’re the one with the storyteller voice and always telling us the ones we requested. Let’s see…is it Saint Danave?”

“No…”

“Eh? Then which one?”

“It can’t be Saint Daenareim, he was Named after we were born.” Din mused, eyes meeting Rin as she nodded in agreement.

“Uh, hey don’t you think it’s getting a bit late? I think I’ll turn in for tonight.” As he said so he stretched to emphasize his point and flopped down on his pallet, almost instantly his breathing slowed and steadied into a rhythm. The siblings looked at each other over the flame of the fire, shrugged, and turned into their own sleeping places soon after.

Late into the night, when the fire had burned down into a few glowering embers and the moon had slipped out of its cloak of clouds, one pair of eyes stayed awake. He had long since figured out his true namesake Saint, but he was, and is still, afraid to ask his parents why they had named him after Saint Nivanead, patron of the Varims and the dark arts.
*
Two days later the small party arrived at the village of Fends, insignificant on the map, yet teetering dangerously on the border dividing Elves and Varims. For some reason unknown, the village had always managed to keep a neutral alliance, stranger still the political parties of both races had left it alone. Perhaps it was too insignificant to bother with. Or perhaps a helping hand had kept it so.

It had been easy enough to find the old Varim gypsy who was rumored to have ties within the cult, they had simply ‘asked’ around the tiny village. He couldn’t help but to feel contempt at the ease of it, some sharp steel pointed at the throat of the right person and information spilled out like lesser Kyrrs swarming upon the attacker of their home. The location of the gypsy was even simpler to find, the village was big as villages go, but the run-down shack stood out like a poison mushroom against a tree’s trunk. It was as if Fate put it there on purpose.

“Go if you must,
Dirty your clean hands
With innocent blood.
Fortune leaves you damned,
Destiny wills you to rot,
No more from Just,
If you mean harm
To Woman, or God.”

The blind eyes had turned toward him as he was about to exit the hut after the siblings,
“You are now warned Child of Grey – your actions tonight will be the pivoting point of your life.” the raspy voice had turned hard for just an instant, and when he had demanded explanation the hag had already resumed her weaving, again singing the nonsensical songs the group had heard when they first entered. He then had no more time to question her further because Din were getting impatient and Rin was eager to be on their way.

It was painlessly easy to get the direction they needed from the gypsy…too easy. So far they had had no reason to kill except for self-defense, and Dane had been left thinking as they looked for the hidden glade of the cultists’ den that it felt like someone was towing them around by the nose, dropping clues when necessary…and what did the old crone meant by calling him ‘Child of Gray’…?

‘This is no time to be mulling over the mystery of the universe!’ he fumed, snapping out of his reverie, ‘we’ll need to come up with something fast to get pass those guards or the whole night will waste away!’

“Hey Dane, you’re frowning again. You’ll get wrinkles early like that y’know?” Rin nudged him, whispering softly.

Dane glanced in her direction, amazed at how she could still retain her humor at a time like this, “Well we’ve been staring at them long enough, willing their feet to budge from the spot by telepathy,” Rin pressed her hands to her mouth, stifling the smile and eventual laughter, “What do you suggest we do? Break in? Find another way?”

“I say we break in, those two won’t take much by way of getting rid of.” Din cut in smoothly as his sister opened her mouth.
“Hold on Din, I know you can easily nail something from hundreds of paces away, but you still can’t get rid of one and not have the other notice! What if the guy raises an alarm and all those guards we took the pains of avoiding come rushing? Saints know what will happen.”

“So we’re just going to crouch here all night? We’ve been around the place a thousand times already! There’s no other way in!”

“How about we make one?”

Both the siblings turned their eyes onto Dane, cocked eyebrow for Din and surprised in Rin’s. He blushed and cursed his big mouth, “Well uh, it’s a new rune casting I’ve read about recently…” ‘Extremely recent, as in the night before the Trial’, he thought to him self, but that piece of information needn’t be said aloud.

“I haven’t had the chance to practice so…it might not work.” He finished, lamely even in his own mind.

The two looked at each other for a moment, Rin then turned to face him, “Well, I know your voice won’t be loud enough to attract attention at this range, but will the casting be noticeable?”

“Yeah, like light converging on a point or something.” Din added, looking skeptical.

“I don’t think there will be anything like that, if I get it right a hole will just appear in the wall, soundless and lightless.”
“There just has to be an ‘if’ doesn’t it?” Din said resignedly, looking even more dubious.

“Haven’t Dane proven himself a thousand times over to us already? Really Din, you should trust people more.” Rin frowned at her brother, causing him to snort, expression dry.

“Hmph, the only people I trust is I, me, and you.”

“People! Save the siblings-love for another time! Are we going ahead with this or not?” Dane cut in, vexed at the two, and not without a little jealousy mixed in.

Sometimes he felt he was just an extra baggage to them, tagging along even though unwanted. He couldn’t even follow what they were talking about most of the time because of their silent, mutual understanding. They switched from one topic to another as easily as breathing air, certainly without the confusion that followed him around like a shadow.

This isn’t the time to be thinking about other things.

The siblings had nodded at him to go on ahead with the casting, the threesome moved stealthily toward the side of the stolid hut unmanned. Reaching a secluded spot, the two backed up a pace or two, allowing Dane his elbow room.

He closed his eyes, mind flipping through the familiar pages of the fragile old thing he had found lying discarded on the floor of the Library one day while he had been trying to find some obscure references for his runes class assignment.

The Naming flowed smoothly from his lips, the gestures perfect. A gaping hole began to eat its way silently outwards on the smooth surface of the wall and stopped at just the right size for three not-yet-grown elves to slip through. He looked around the vicinity, checking for any signs of alarm that may have been sounded, found none. Dane glided through the brush and into the opening as silently as an owl trailing its prey, two silent shadows right behind him.

They emerged into a deserted hallway, lit on intervals with sputtering torches. The ceiling hung low, as a beast crouched to strike. Rotten doors lined the wall opposite them, obviously unoccupied. Din’s ears flickered, the keen hearing of a marksman at work. Their eyes met for conference, a tiny motion of the head from Din toward their left. A light from under a doorway, a short distance along the corridor, glimmered seductively like Varims at night.
*
Blood.

A trail of red slithered slyly right on their heels.

He had lost count of the numerous times Rin’s slender arms rose and snuffed the light of life out of someone’s throat, of the arrows which grew up from an eye or a chest. For every guard they took down, two seemed to spring up from the very earth to take their place. As they fought their way deeper down the secret underground passage, the sickly tang of blood in the enclosed space threatened to overwhelm his consciousness, but his training held and kept his mind firmly in the half-trance state necessary for runes casting.

Dane’s ears pricked up and he swiveled round just in time to dodge a blur of cold steel aimed to cleave his head. An arrow immediately sprouted up from the heart of the assailant, the force of the short-ranged shot knocked the guard backward forcefully and the head landed on the stairs with a sharp crack. Dane was about to turn away from the grisly sight when a wisp of a sound reached his keen ears,

“ools…uture…an’t be chang…”

That was all. An incoherent gurgle of blood prevented him from hearing the last few words of the fallen. The incomplete sentence will, from now, haunt and prey upon his conscience forever more, but he was not to know at the time.
He had known nothing at the time.

The doorway at the end of the passage was barred, from behind its firm bulk Dane could distinctly hear the unmistakable drone of chants. The language was unfamiliar to him, with it’s ugly guttural tones and a sharp, ear-piercing force sounding within each syllable. A hiss of a drawn blade distracted him from trying to catch the Rhyme of the chants and his eyes refocused on the siblings as they dispatched the latest lot of unfortunates to the Resting Ground.

Din lashed out at the last remaining guard and the corpse crumpled soundlessly onto the already blood-saturated ground, still foolishly clutching the halved spear resulted from a vain effort at blocking the elf’s powerful stroke. The distant figure of Din bent down to wipe his blade on the clothes of the fallen, while Rin leaned against the dirt wall of the tunnel, probably catching her breath. He picked his way carefully down the bloodied, therefore slippery, steps, mindful of the trails of his robe.

“Hurry up Dane! At the rate you’re going they’ll be done with whatever they’re doing before you finished dancing down on your tip toes!”

He glowered at Din, but picked up his pace all the same.

The space in front of the plain wooden door was mainly occupied by sacks of unmoving guards, but while he was making his way down the siblings had made enough room for him to inspect their obstacle without the need to rub elbows with the dead.
It was a simple Lock rune and he had it opened in a thrice.

The whole panel of the door dissipated and the threesome stared at the scene before them, first in surprise, then followed closely by its cousin, anger.

As with many Ceremonies this one was laid out in a pentagram, precisely drawn with chalk on the unexpectedly well-paved floor of the vast cavern. Candles on elaborate stands of twining heads, arms, legs, tails and other numerous body parts they were unable to name marched around the perimeter of the room, throwing out sullen lights and disturbing shadows on the insignificant figures of the occupants.

The harsh chanting went on.

All was still except for shadows.

The whole place was fake.

Din let out a curse involving a Skarn and Varim and the unlikely action that may occur between the two, punctuated by a kick at a carved statue standing on one point of the pentagram, not caring even when the chanting abruptly stopped and of the ominous silence that descended onto the very air they breathe. The other two did noticed however, to his good fortune, and roughly pulled him away from the center of the pentagram, where he was standing. Din squirmed, protested at the manner with which he was being held, stopped, turned to look, and watched with slack-jawed amazement the thing which was, at the moment, clearly manifesting itself onto the pentagram.

A wind whipped up from nowhere, furiously beating them into submission and drowned them instantly in darkness as the candles snapped out. They had to hold on to each other then, clutching hands for the small comfort of not being alone in this predicament. Their backs were soon pushed up against the dirt wall of the cavern, the wind painfully tightening the hold on their lungs, drawing out their air as a rope and tucking away at the ends. If they did not die of the crushing wind, they would surely die of the asphyxiation. To make matters even worst than they could possibly imagined, a roar cracked upon them like a whip of lightning, and despite their selves, they screamed.

It was high time to do something about the situation.

But what?

Well. First some light.
*
A memory sprang unbidden into being: a hot, steaming morning in high summer and the oppressive feeling of too much moisture in the air, young elves sitting in ordered rows, fidgeting, whispering, and napping in the well lighted classroom, he himself yawning with the rest as the rune class’ master rattled along about the basic principles of the drawing of runes governed by the major elements, he could hear the insects’ calls, a background buzz that permeated all through the day, the atmosphere beckoned for him to sleep, he did so without resisting.

Think.

What was Master Runorf saying?

Saints, I should have paid more attention to the basics!

Gradually a blurred image of the blackboard, as seen through half-opened eyes besieged with drowsiness, firmed in his mind.

Elements…attributes…earth, wind, water, fire, dark…light…LIGHT!
*
The room blazed.

The siblings cried out from the sudden intense brightness, the too short a difference between pitch black and stark white had rendered their eyes useless and, for the moment, so was their foe’s.

Dane, who had closed his own eyes, was saved from the temporary blindness and was given the advantage of time to take a good look at their adversary.

At first all he saw was a shadow, a writhing, boiling mass of tar-black in the middle of the precise pentangle. Looking closely now at the diagram, he cursed at himself for not recognizing the summoning runes etched into the lines in time, probably rigged to activate as soon as the air was disturbed. His eyes shuttled rapidly from line to line, trying to find out the exact identity of the deity it was designed to summon. The revelation came with widen eyes and cold sweat.

He needed to think, and their was no time for it now that the light he conjured had lessen its intensity, the blindness it had effected at first was wearing off fast. The shadow was now lengthening, whip-like tendrils shooting up to reach the distant ceiling of the cavern. The wind was also picking up again, howling in a vortex with the creature at its center. If the creature finishes its re-manifestation…he didn’t like to think of the consequences.

A squeeze on his left hand, he turned to look down at Rin, whose hand he was holding, and beyond to Din at her other side.
Suddenly a force of realization bowled him over: They were waiting for him.

Of course. It is his area afterall.

Here, there was no monster to bash, no foe to vanquish, for obviously the deity was not a normal fiend with bared fangs or enemies with naked steel. This, they did not understand.

The thought of THE siblings relying on him spurned his mind to greater heights, and he took advantage of it readily.

A deep breath.

“Din, I need the strongest arrow you have,”

Din sifted through his quiver without looking back, knowing each and everyone by feel alone. He pulled out one.
“Tipped with? Silver? Great. Be-spelled? No? Even better. Would you watch the manifestation? Tell me when Its head emerges.” Din nodded and turned towards the deity, eyes narrowed from the wind’s buffeting.

Dane rubbed the silver-tipped arrow and murmured a few runes under his breath. The silver glowed briefly when he finished the Naming and melted without qualms into the bottle he had taken out of one the pockets lining his bag’s strap. He quickly worked a few more bottles free, unstopping and stopping one after another to pour into the silver with his thump, hands steadied from years of practice at handling delicate mixings where one missed drop of mercury would earned him a beating. All the while his lips kept moving, runes falling into the liquid silver as drops of rain soaking into the earth. After a few seconds he murmured the finishing runes, dipped the arrow shaft into the silver and once again held a whole arrow.

“Now Rin, I need you to do something dangerous, but you’re the fastest of us so…alright, listen closely.”

He hurriedly explained what he wanted and watched nervously as the lithe form sped to do as he asked. As she dodged one after another of the knife-like tendrils he frantically ran through the memories of what he had learnt about summoning.
Normally when an adept wishes to summon a deity from the Greater Reaches he will draw, first, the pentacle inscribed with the runes of Invitation and the one True Name of the deity, reinforcing it with ones for Enclosure and Obedience to its order; second, he will draw another outer circle inscribed with the runes of Dismissal, again the True Name included, to send the deity back before any lasting damage may occurred to uproot the Balance. Clearly the pentacle was the Invitation aspect and the order must have been to annihilate any intruders.

There was no Dismissal diagram.

Since he had no time to draw the proper symmetrical Dismissal circle and runes, much less to think, improvisation was the word of the moment.

Rin had done well. He could see the shaky, but complete, softly glowing circle enclosing the pentacle within. He had strengthened the silver with every herb and charms he could think of, for the silver to be of good quality too were a blessing.

Now.

Here goes nothing!
*
The wind was still. There was no other sound of significance but the cold whispers of the moon.

It had seemed an eternity inside the underground hideaway of the cultists, though only, judging by the position of the moon, 5 hours had passed since their stealthy entrance. Too much had happened since then, there were things he needed time to think about, but now the most pressing matter were the slumbering bundle lying snuggly in his arm.

He had to find a place for the child.

A safe place, where she can grow without all of the pains of being a different kind of ‘being’, some ideal place where he had wished he was in.

He also had to go before she changed her mind.

He started walking.
*
It was dawn, or something akin to it. The light was gray, misty and clean. He had picked a direction in the deepest hour of the night, walking as in a dream. He stumbled countless times, his physique unable to keep up with his restless mind. Too many hours indoors did that. Still he kept on going.

He came upon a clearing just as true dawn was making itself known with the soft twittering of bird calls and the stirring of life all around.

A humble cottage sat at the edge of the open space, curled cozily next to a small stream, bathed in the warm light of morning. By then he was too exhausted, and more than a little worried for the still, unusually silent, infant he was clasping protectively to his chest.

He also had no other option.

Dane collapsed right next to the door jamb. And waited.

Very soon the door was opened.

The last thing he remembered before the darkness of his lids was a warm presence, lifting his charge carefully from his arm.
*
“Ee’s a’waking up Master.”

“Aye, aye. Ah’m a’comin’”

Dane sighed, his eyelids cracking open. Disoriented, he tried to place a meaning to what he was seeing, trying to remember, there was something important…He bolted upright.

“Whoa! E’see do’s it tare lad. Y’ safe an’ sound.”

“Oi! Who are ya? What ar’ ya doin’ round dis parts? Why wer’ y’ cover’d in blood? Oi! Y’ listenin’ t’me!? Oi!”

“’Old it right tare Nuile, can yer not see ee’s confused? Don’t worree lad, der pint’s oll yap, nary a bite.”

Dane blinked, one time, two times. Finally he remembered he had a mouth equipped, “Er…where am I?”

“Y’ in der place y’ collapsed in front oof. Duh.”

A sharp crack, resulting from a knuckle connecting with a head, resounded inside the small space,

“Dat do’s it y’ rascal! Oout! Make y’self useful and brung a tray o’ food in fer our gues’!”

Dane watched, in mild amusement, as the younger Quelar dashed out of the room, tail puffed up in what was clearly defiance.

Silence fell. He was feeling a little more than intimidated, reasonably so too, this being the first time he ever had the chance to talk to a live Quelar with no threatening glares or the chance of an ‘accidentally’ loosed arrow in his side.

The silence stretched, suddenly anxiety for his charge forcefully reasserted it self,

“S, Sir, where is…?”

“Ah, no need ta worree, der cub’s over tare.” The stately feline pointed toward the far side of the room with a flick of his soft ears, as he reassured the young Elf.

He sighed unconsciously in relief, freed of the most pressing worry. He had then the leisure to study his surroundings.

He was in a sparsely furnished room, probably the one facing the front of the cottage, with small shuttered windows thrown wide open to let in as much of the slowly fading dusk as possible. A door stood ajar a few feet from the foot his bed, through which he could see the young Quelar called Nuile bustling about, clanking things onto a wooden tray set on what he gathered to be an all-purpose table sitting in the middle of the packed-soil room. The bed he was sitting on was pushed up against the far wall, into a corner of the cottage, and on his other side lay a bed mat, probably where Nuile sleep at night, layered comfortably with several kinds of fur. Beyond the make-shift bed a small, cheery fire crackled its greetings at him. A pile of cushion was arranged carefully near, but not too much, the fireplace, with his charge slumbering peacefully on it.
All in all, it didn’t tell him much about the cottage’s inhabitants.

“Ya musta bin a’walkin’ oll night lad. Judgin’ by d’sight of yon clothin’ an’ passin’ oout an’ oll dat.”

Attention snapped back, he answered, tripping slightly on his tongue as he struggled to answer properly, “A, Ah, yes sir. That’s right.”

“Aye lad, Ah’m no ‘sir’, der name’s Roide, an’ ya’ve prob’ly gat’ered but dat’s tare my ‘prentice, Nuile.”

“Pleased to meet you si…uh, Master Roide. I am called Dane.” He didn’t give his full name, not from distrust, but felt it would seem too pompous to the elder being if he gave his mouthful of a name.

The graying Quelar nodded in pleasure, “Aye, well met Dane. Y’ lern fas’ lad, Ah lik’ dat. Now,” at this he turned his head sideways, to fix his, presumably, better right eye on Dane, “wot be yer wantin’ round this ‘ere backwoods oof a’ place? Far from ‘ome an’ wi’ a cub clearly unrelated ter ya at dat. Not ta mentioned bein’ cover’d in blo’d an’ such lke.”

The gaze was direct, belying intelligence far greater than his rustic accent made to seem. It was also kind, and instinctively made him want to spill out all of his dark, heavy thoughts.

Still, Dane held back, not wanting to unburden all of his troubles on strangers who were generous enough to have given him shelter. He was already going to ask them too much already.

“Ah’m likin’ y’ more an’ more lad. Don’t ya worree, dis ol’ Quelar can take wotever’s comin’ Ah’ve seen troubles oof der wors’ kind in mah y’unger days. An’ Nuile, ‘mpossble as it may se’m, kno’es wen ter keep ‘ees mouth shut.”

For a moment his eyes dangerously filled, and he had to blink quickly a couple of times before he mastered his emotions,
“I thank you, Master Roide…but I don’t know where to begin…”

The tiger-striped Quelar chuckled, “Ah’m gonna giv’ yer one advice lad: begin a’ der beginnin’ an’ go on till der end.”

Dane nodded. He took a deep breath and let it out in a sigh, “Well Master, see my mom and father…”

Nuile had come and gone, the food had disappeared, the fire had burned lower, and Nuile’s soft snores can be heard from the room outside when he finished his tale. All throughout Roide sat in silent concentration, only occasionally prompting for Dane to go on.

Dane felt strangely light after he had done with the thirsty task. Although he should be worried about the trustworthiness of the Quelar, the thought hadn’t even entered his mind in the slightest whisper. It was such a relief to let spill all that had been bothering him for the past few days – was it only days? – all the strange, unexplainable things…there was the incident with gypsy, the cultist’s last words, etc. etc. Also, he felt a kind of bond with Roide, as if he had met him somewhere before and were quite close…but that wouldn’t be possible.

“Hm…dat shore was an interestin’ tale lad. Lemme chew on it fer awhil’. Y’ go oon an’ sl’ep, y’ prob’ly tir’d from ol der talkin’.”

Dane dutifully lay down and pulled his covers up, watching through half-opened eyes at the aged Quelar padding towards the fireplace. He bent down to check on the babe lying in peace on the cushions before laying him self down and curled into a Quelar style sleeping position, arranging the other cushions surrounding him into a more comfortable nest.
Soon the soothing sounds of a home in deep slumber and the night lulled him to slip into the blissful dark of unconsciousness. However…

He dreamed.
*
It didn’t work.

He was absolutely certain he had had the right Dismissal rune and Name, so either the improvised circle really was of no use or his wand just didn’t have the level of power required for such a casting.

They were looking at him.

What to do?

Better come out with it then, no use wasting any more time. Not to mention it might fatal to do so.

“Right, sorry people, but I think we’ll have to take this big lug out in the old ways.”

“Argh, I knew it was no good!”

“Quiet Din, Dane tried his best, which is more than can be said about us, standing around like this.”

“Your luck’s in Dane, we’ll sort this out later. Now, let’s just get this over with!”

Din’s arms were a blur as he strung and loosed three arrows in quick succession. All found its marks, testified by the howl of rage from the gaping hole in the middle of the mass. He continued on loosing the arrows, trying to keep as many occupied as possible.

Rin dashed in, using her brother’s distraction as an advantage, while continuously slicing left and right with her claws at any tendril aimed at her with the ease of cutting cheese. A final jump and she was right under the maw. She extended her claws till they were at least two feet long and plunged both in as far as they would go.

The howl turned into a noise screeching on the line between a scream and a wail, having the quality of being disturbing and skin-crawling, plus the extra instant deaf effect on their sensitive ears.

With ears ringing and eyes watering from the pain, Rin tugged free her claws and grabbed one of the specially mixed potion Dane had made and threw it into the cacophonic void above her, before somersaulting back and sprinting for all she was worth for the far end of the cavern where the two others were at.

There was a sound akin to a gulp, but multiplied ten times for sheer size.

A rumble started, throwing them off their feet. Dane just had had the time to shout a barrier rune before a blast of fire rammed into them, scorching everything in their range and burning white hot right into their faces.

The rumble became an all-out quake, as the flames filled in and sucked all the air out of the cavern, creating a sort of vacuum in the perfectly enclosed space. When there was no more air to be found, it tried to eat away at the dirt and tiles at their feet.

With a final groan the floor beneath them gave way and they fell into the black chasm.

And fell.

And fell.
*
Thanking the Saints he had taken the pain of learning every single warding rune, and levitation, known to the Elven, Dane carefully lowered their globe of barrier down into the chasm that had opened from the destruction of the cavern.

“Saints blessed us! I thought we would be making an early visit to the Resting Ground for a minute there.”

“So did I! What exactly did you put into that potion Dane?”

“I’ll tell you, but unless you want to fall Saints-know-how-many-feet down there you’ll let me concentrate first!”

That shut the two siblings up instantly.

Dane raised his eyebrows, ‘Really, I wish this would happen more often…’ he thought wryly.

It was awhile later when they were finally able to land and stand on their own feet. Dane whispered again the rune of Light, and conjured it into several small globes, revolving slowly around their vicinity. They could now see the mess of jumbled stones, tiles, and a whole lot of dust stretching endlessly into the almost tangible darkness.

“Sure was a long way down huh?”

“Yeah,” replied Din absently, “hey Rin, can you hear that?”

“What?”

“Shhh! Listen!”

Then they finally heard it clearly. A sobbing sound, coming directly from in front of them.

Din was already off with Rin following close on his heels, running as quietly as possible while trying not to stumble on the uneven ground, when Dane snapped into himself and followed suit.

When he finally caught up the siblings had already stopped, apparently staring at a something or someone on the ground. He cautiously stepped around the two.

A Human woman laid, gasping in tiny shallow breaths in what appeared to be a kind of ceremonial ground, etched all over her naked body and the ground were thousands upon thousands of miniscule runes, to serve what purpose he did not know and did not care to guess. A bawling baby, who the woman have just obviously given birth to and the source of the cries, laid not far from her. It was a miracle that the debris did not fall on the two, but the strangeness of the situation had failed to register in him, for the surprise was too great to leave much room for anything else.

After the initial shock passed, Dane quickly went down on one knee next to the woman, holding up his wand above her and readying his mind for the strongest string of healing runes he knew. A hand landed sharply on his shoulder.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

Dane shrugged Din’s hand off, irritated at the inane question, “I’m going to heal her of course, she won’t last much longer if-”

The sentence cut off abruptly. Dane turned his head slowly from Din, looking from the point of contact, the woman’s heart, up to the clawed hand, following the line of the slender arm until it reached Rin’s eyes.

The stab was executed with precision for there was no sound of hitched breathing. She just had simply stopped in the act of living.

Rin withdrew the claw slowly and serenely flick away the few drops of blood that had collected along the bright, wickedly gleaming blade.

He found his tongue again after a long chilling pause, even the bawling baby seemed to hold its breath, “Rin-“
The un-retracted claw seemed to materialized from thin air to rest lightly, even playfully, against his throat.

“Your forgetfulness hurts me deeply Dane, truly it does. Why, I would go so far as to say you’ve forgotten all about your sworn oaths!”

The shock at her unexpected action dissolved completely with anger, “What forgetfulness!? I was only trying to-“

“Oh shush! I know what you were about to do! Have you ever stopped to think of the consequences? But I see you are not getting any of this,” the deadly point of the claw traced its way down to his heart, “Have you ever wondered exactly why your revered father was disinherited?”

Dane’s expression was scornful of the question but the threat hovering dangerously near his heart reminded him of his place, “He refused to kill.”

“Yes, and his opinion would have incurred little consequence if,” here she depressed the claw a little, just to make sure she had his attention, “he didn’t voice it during the Trial of Life, and the fact that he spared a Varim, of all the races!”

“I know all this! What are you getting at Rin?”

She made a tutting sound, “You, with all your glorious oaths of reclaiming your lost name, have already forgotten all of it in just the space of the moment! You were just about to do the same as your father!”

“The woman hasn’t done anything! How can healing her be considered a betrayal of the Elven?”

“I won’t let you ruin the chance to pass the Trial because of your misplaced sympathy Dane, certainly not now when we are so close!”

“Rin stop it! Dane, the woman’s dead now whether you like it or not, so stop with this nonsense. You as well Rin, what do you think you would achieve by bickering with him like this?” Din interjected exasperatedly as he grasped the wrist of Rin’s hand and moved it away from Dane’s heart.

Rin removed her hand obediently, too obediently, and turned instead to the new born bundle of misery lying in exhausted slumber near her feet.

He saw what she was about to do and lunged, grabbing the babe in the momentum just in time to saved it from being speared in the heart like its mother.

Rin’s face twisted into an ugly mask as she started after Dane, all her claws now fully extended.

“Stop where you are Rin! I won’t let you get kill this child!”

The mask twitched into a smirk, “You won’t let me? Pray do tell how you are going to stop me!”

Dane’s mind raced, searching for anything he could use to give him an edge, “Kill this child and I’ll leave the two of you down here! See if you can climb that far up to the surface on your own!”

Rin’s face fell in realization for just a moment, and schooled up into a smirk again just as quickly, “Well then, I’ll make you take us up!”

“No, Rin! He’ll be gone by the time you reach him! Stay where you are!”

Rin bit her lip in frustration but consented to her brother’s command. Normally the strange reversal of roles would have amused Dane, but in the present situation, gaiety would have stuck out like a Quelar with hands instead of paws.

Din came up beside his sister and laid a restraining hand of her shoulder, “I’ll make a deal with you Dane. You get to keep the child’s life, and I think you are at least smart enough know what will happen to all of us if this is let out,” Dane nodded in confirmation, ignoring the jibe, and looked down at the babe in his arms. Such a risk he was taking and on an impulse! The risk of breaking his word to succeed in his father’s place, the risk of losing a life’s chance of studying under the Judge himself, and the risk of being seen as a betrayer of his own people…all this just for an unknown child…

Rin continued, in a voice as icy as her eyes, “In return, you will take us up out of this place via your runes magic and I – we - will swear not to harm you or the child once we are on firm ground but,” Dane looked up at the ‘but’ and held firm as the piercing greenness of both their eyes bore into him “I swear to the Arc-Saint and the Saint of our namesake, I’ll hunt you down till I reach the furthest reaches of the Resting Ground if after this I ever see a hair of its hide anywhere within breathing space of the City!”

And Dane knew she meant every single syllable.
*
It was when the ‘traitor’ was out of sight when they set the inconspicuous hut which had housed many a sinners earlier that night to burn. The silence was complete except for the roar of the hungry fire and the groan of cracking timber. They stood next to eac