by Dilvish
This dark night seemed like any other unless one was watchful enought to catch the sight of shadowy figures slipping slowely through the forest, muffled lanterns lending them the slightest light to show their way.
"Craaack!" The sudden snapping of a dry, fallen branch broke the stillness, followed by cursing.
"Quiet you fool", hissed the tallest of the figures, cloaked in blackness from the top of his head to the forest floor. The figure peered down at the slight human who was grimacing and looking foolish.
"Sorry Master," said the rogue, breaking out in a smile, "Not as if there were any to hear us in this God forsaken place."
"Do not mention God to me, he has no place where I tread." The tall one, snapped his fingers and an iron shod staff appeared in his hand. "I have hired you to do my bidding, not shout our presence to the world."
The two proceeded in silence for a few more minutes before entering a small clearing. The rogue shivered and pulled his cloak around him. This place stank of something that made the hair stand up on the back of his neck.
The sorcerer, for mage he was, looked around and grunted. Closing his eyes he concentrated for a few moments, turning his head from side to side slowely. Then he smiled. It was an unpleasent smile, one you would not want directed at you. "This is the place." he said and pulled a small book from his robes.
"Yeah? whats so different about this place than all the other dank, evil spots we have seen the last month?" The little man let a note of impatience into his voice, "When you hired me to guide you into the fey lands, you did not say you wanted to trespass on the most ancient of their sacred woods."
The sorcerer turned his baleful gaze on the smaller man, "Their `sacred` lands do not concern me, nor should they be of any importance to you. The only thing you need worry about is displeasing me with your endless prattle."
The rogue rolled his eyes and sat down on an old log, saying nothing.
Time passed as the two waited. The rogue was about to ask again about their purpose here when the sorcerer pulled a small mirror from his pocket and gazed into its depths.
"It is time." he said, and replaced the mirror within his robes. Stetching his hands high, the sorcerer proceeded to speak quickly in a gutteral tongue, the words rolling through the small clearing, grating against the rogue`s ears and setting his teeth on edge.
Sudden silence. The sorcerer stopped speaking and then brought his staff down hard on the ground. As the iron shod staff slammed against the dark earth there was a trembling which shook the silent trees which stood around them. Twice more he slammed the staff on the ground and on the third strike there was a subtle change. Slowley at first, then more quickly, a deep throbbing began in the ground and air surrounding them. The sound increased in pitch until the rogue was forced to cover his ears in a futil effort to stave off the agonizing beat.
"Ehldroth", intoned the sorcerer, "Ehldroth awake!" Raising his voice to a shriek the dark mage screamed, "I command you to wake!"
Suddenly there was silence.
For a brief moment there was no sound or movement, then the clearing began to brighten. The rogue now saw that the clearing was ringed with toadstools, large mishapen fungi that now glowed an erie phosphorescence. He looked over to the mage to his his face twisted and flushed with excitement....and something else. Greed.
Something moved and the rogue turned his attention back to the circle. He rubbed his eyes and squinted into a haze that was forming within the bounds of the fey lines. The haze solidified into the figure of an ancient elf. It was the oldest elf the rogue had ever seen, wrinkled skin sagged against a bony frame and straggly white hair hung down the parchment like cheeks. But the eyes...the eyes shown with a fire that struck terror into the heart of the human rogue.
"Ehldroth," breathed the mage in a bearely inaudible voice, "The book did not lie". He clutched the small book in his hand. He threw his head back and laughed, "IT... IS....TRUE!" The mage laughed histerically for a few momements, then calmed himself and faced the ancient elf, who was regarding him with a palatable hatred.
"You are mine to command by ancient rite," the sorcerer said. He stode up to the fairy circle and tapped the air before him with his staff. There was a sound like the ringing of a bell, and his staff rebounded as if it had struck a crystal wall.
"I see the containment spell your enemy bound you with so long ago has not lost its power", he smirked at the old elf within the circle.
Ehldroth replied, "Indeed, Galerion was always good with his wards." He smiled, "Not so good with his his youth spells as I felt his passing long ago."
The dark mage inclined his head, "I see he has tied the spell to the power of the fairy circle." he tapped the wards once more and then stepped back. He chuckled, "That makes my work all the more easy"
The old elf narrowed his eyes and watched as the mage paced off the circle, pausing every few spaces to mark the air with symbols that glowed briefly before fading. When he had circumvented the circle he stood once more before the old elf.
"Soon your power will be mine to hold, and you will be cast down to your final sleep, old one." The dark mage pulled out his book and opened it to a spot marked with a feather of a black raven.
"Shall we begin?"
... to be continued.
