10 comments/ 27288 views/ 14 favorites The Broken Sword By: Phineas Prologue She seldom slept anymore, such was her power that she needed little of it. She walked through the chambers of the once mighty castle, her flawless ebony skin a sharp contrast to the gleaming white marble of the passages. It rang hollow and empty, the memory of the laughter and the language of her kind long since having faded. In its place was the rustling noise of the movement of her servants, the harshness of their guttural language, and the smell of their fur. She longed for the old days at times like this, yet the longing always reminded her of what he had taken from her. It reminded her of the unending prison she endured. And so her anger made her stride quicken. Her white silken skirts, no more then a long loin cloth really, trailed behind her as she made her way through the hall and came out into the courtyard in front of the castle. The magic of the place remained, keeping it well maintained and free of the ravages of time. The mighty gates loomed ahead of her, though they stood open as they often did in times of peace. Without lay the mightiest city Viconia had ever seen, home to the might of the most powerful race of beings Viconia had ever known. She cursed and moved forward, walking purposefully to the gates. The might and glory had been for nothing. In their foolishness her husband and his brother had turned from the path of power and victory and fought against those who knew that the rightful legacy of the elves was to rule all of Viconia. The ensuing civil war had broken both peoples, though in the end the dragons had come to the aid of her side and forced her foolish husband's brother into retreat. Her husband himself had been slain in battle, killed by none other then her lover. Of her there had been no word. She had been imprisoned for hundreds of years behind the spells of the strongest of elven archmages. But they underestimated her power as well, for she had studied long and hard and found the weakness in their spells. She cancelled their wards at last, only to find herself still trapped. Kalista stopped and looked upwards from the great plaza she stood in. Looming over her, indeed over all of Thoragloorin, was an impenetrable shield of mystical blue energy. Nothing could penetrate it, not beast nor magic. And the key to the shield lay before her. She gazed hatefully at the fountain rising from the middle of the plaza. It towered over her, 45 feet tall at the tip of the golden dragon statuette at it's center. Surrounding the gold statue were four others, each only 30 feet tall themselves and each of a separate metallic nature. One was copper, another bronze, a third brass, and the fourth was silver. Water flowed from the mouths of all of them save the gold into the pool beneath, and from their it flowed to a stream that turned into a mighty waterfall hundreds of feet high at the edge of the plaza that drained into the idyllic lake below. On the head of the gold dragon her gaze remained fixed. A beautiful crown fashioned of an alloy of the same metals the five colossal dragon statues were made of. It sported five gleaming gemstones as well of a size so large as to make them pricelessly unique. A ruby, an emerald, a sapphire, a diamond, and a black pearl. The crown was that magic that maintained the seal separating Thoragloorin from Viconia, and the crown itself was protected by great magics she could not penetrate. Indeed, she could come no closer then 15 feet to the tower herself, and her servants were halted from within 5 feet of it. She cursed and stared over the city that was her domain. It remained timeless and forever frozen in beauty, yet it was also lifeless. Other beings remained, even a few that had wandered in from the outside over the years, but escape was impossible. Of those who remained they stayed to themselves and sought no quarrel with her. She was the undisputed Queen of Thoragloorin, something undisputed thanks to both her magic and her powerful army. Back when the elves had ruled Viconia and been contested only by orcs, giants, ogres, and some dragons they had a race of servants known as doguren. The doguren were short, standing little over three feet tall, and looked a cross between a dog and a elf. Covered in fur and with long snouts, they possessed the arms and legs of a humanoid and a simple intelligence. When Myragordamar's brother, King Thindamar Risingmoon renounced the proper path of the elves he had likewise ordered all doguren set free to do as they would. Many remained behind, however, content in their servitude, only more so now that they would be treated more kindly. The doguren that had served Kalista remained with her as well, though she had magically bound them to her. They bred and reproduced, encouraged by her magic over the thousands of generations into larger and more capable creatures. Now they stood nearly 7 feet tall and possessed powerful muscles and thick hides. Most importantly they numbered in the thousands and each one would die for her gladly. She was their Goddess. But that cheered her little. They all were prisoners. When the elves had been banished they had put up such wards as were present to forever separate Thoragloorin from the world. Kalista was forgotten in the process, sealed away like so many of the ancient elven riches she now possessed that were worthless to her. Thousands of years had passed and she waited, brooding and increasing her magic. The blessing of immortality was also a curse, she had realized long ago. Part 1 : The Legacy of Birth Chapter 1 Elvanshalee clenched her teeth through the searing pain of the contraction, forcing her mind to stay calm. She was alone in her tower, the tower she had raised with her own hands and magic from the very earth that had been the center of her mother's sacred grove. If she were to lose her concentration now all that she had worked for would be lost; years of sacrifice and toil for a greatness that was beyond anything any elf had achieved in their life. On the edge of her consciousness she remembered what she had been forced to endure to reach the point she was now at. It had been costly, but if it was more so in her pride and self identity than it was in pain and blood, it was only by a narrow margin. Her interest in dragonkind had been with her since she was a child. It only grew as she grew, and having the honor of fighting alongside Luingirth against Ancaruin was something she considered the pinnacle achievement of her life. Nothing could surpass it, until another idea occurred to her after having overhead one of Garrick's many lewd comments to Luingirth. Five years spent in research and what little experimentation she could undertake yielded some partial results to her. During her time spent in solitude she sought no one for advice or companionship except for Luingirth. He was an ancient dragon, by elven or dragon standards, yet his youthful demeanor was surely the cause of his bond with Kelnozz Risingmoon, or as most knew him, the King of the Elves. She shared some of her research with him, and in the end after finally confiding all of it to him he filled in the missing blanks with his eons of knowledge he had amassed. Elvanshalee sought to merge her magic with that of the world, magic that dragons were able to easily pull upon. Magic that Alesha could harness with ease, much to Elvanshalee's annoyance. Alesha, a mere human woman that rose far above her station and her worth. Beyond even that which her mortality should allow for potential. Such a short lived race, humans, yet a few did seem to shine from time to time and burned so brightly that they left spots in the vision of others for generations to come. Alesha was one of those, as was Yamara, the troubled and somewhat surly rogue that Elvanshalee had felt the most kinship too, if only for her aloofness. Her thoughts were forced back to the matter at hand as she endured another contraction. It would be soon now, she knew it. Elves typically carried a child for nearly 2 years before giving birth. This one had come much quicker, no doubt a legacy of it's unnatural parentage. She had cast her auguries and done her best to divine the nature of it, but even her mightiest magics could learn nothing of it. She was at a loss. She had considered destroying the child as soon as it was conceived, reaching inside of her with a tendril of her magic and dispatching it. But, at the behest of Luingirth she had abstained. That was her end of the deal, in fact, that whatever fruit was born of there unnatural and highly magical union would be allowed the chance to survive. Luingirth was not as his kin, thus he would never find another blue dragon with which to mate. Instead they had used their individual shape shifting magics to allow such a union to take place. The contractions were coming quicker then. She bore down and muttered barely heard words that soothed the pain and eased the babies progress through her birth canal. It was still another half an hour before the crying child emerged fully into the world. She studied it through exhausted eyes and noted somewhat clinically that it was a girl. A girl with dark skin and eyes the color of shimmering sapphires. Black hair was wetly plastered to her head. Elvanshalee breathed deeply and wrapped the baby in a rag, cleaning the mucus and blood from it. She studied it briefly before speaking softly in elvish. "Your name shall be Vanya, little one, and your life shall be filled with harshness and toil, but I promise you that I shall do everything I can to prepare you for it." She slid a dagger through the umbilical cord then, severing it instantly so magically sharp was it. Instantly she felt a surging tremor within her. Elvanshalee gasped as she felt another contraction nearly double her over. She set her daughter on the table beside her and felt her insides scream at her, forcing her tortured muscles to push anew. In a matter of only a few moments this time she gave birth again, though this time it was something that caused her eyes to widen in fear and amazement. It was over a foot in length and oval shaped. The membrane surrounding it was torn from the tremors of the birthing, and it slid wetly off of where it lay between her legs on the ruined cloth. Although smaller than she would have though possible there was no mistaking it; it was a dragon egg. Chapter 2 "Bobo!" screamed the second mate of the elven caravel, Dolphinchaser, in warning. Bobocateya thrust his rapier through the stomach of the human pirate and spun around gracefully to see what the warning was about. To late he realized he was out of position to deal with the new threat, a large man wielding a crudely fashioned short sword that resembled a meat cleaver. Bobo spun away and threw up his arm with the small buckler on it to try and deflect the descending edge away from him. His maneuver saved his life, but cost him his sword hand as the heavy blade glanced off the buckler and sheared through the wrist of his other arm as he tried to bring his rapier to bear. Bob fell back, stunned by the numbing devastation to his arm. He held it up, watching the blood spurt from it, in shocked wonder, and was only spared death by an archer from the as-yet unengaged forecastle skewering his latest assailant. The second mate, Halidor, was there then, forcing his way through the crowd of combatants with only a few scratches. He pulled Bobo closer to the forecastle, where they were in a small isle of calm amidst the battle, and cursed loudly and repeatedly while tearing the straps off of the buckler Bobo wore and tying them around his pulsing stump in an attempt to lessen the flow of blood. "You're father's going to have my skin for letting you get injured like this, now stay out of the way lest he demands my life for letting you get run through by a pirate!" The mate growled, tightening down on the strap so instead of a steady spurt of blood it was reduced to a trickle. "Stay low and pray a healer survives the battle, Prince." Bobo stared absently after the retreating second mate. Already he was back in battle, though he kept an eye on the prince and stayed close in case any of the pirates attempted to attack him. Bobo's attention was soon drawn back to his blood stump, wondering how it was possible that such an injury could have occurred. To him, of all people! Such things were not suppose to happen to him. All his life Bobocateya Risingmoon had lived in the shadow of his mother and father. Two great people of unsurpassed skill and power, let alone station. Only his unique legacy of being the only half-human, half-elven person on all of Viconia had kept him from being forgotten by his childhood friends and tutors. He had to be special, it was in his blood! And so for all of his childhood and young adulthood Bobo had gone out of his way to prove that he was worthy of his heritage. He took risks where others would not, he would run harder, drink longer, force himself to greater feats of endurance, and generally try to outdo anyone around him. His life was one of constant contest. He did battle on whatever field he found himself on, including those in his mind. In spite of that he often lost, though by any means he gave a good accounting of himself and, in the case of a true contest, would often finish near the top. But the hand on his sword arm was an insult as well as an injury. Not thinking, he tried to clench his missing fist, something he often did when he was frustrated. The numbness faded as his torn muscles tried to obey him, making tears come to his eyes and dropping him to his knees with the pain of it. After several long moments of clutching the bloody stump he looked up and vaguely noticed the battle was nearly over. Only a few pirates survived, the elves were seasoned naval veterans and outnumbered the pirate frigate by almost half again their number. It was a foregone conclusion, but still the pirates had put up a fierce battle when it became apparent they could not escape. The rear bombard on the pirate ship had only been able to fire once, narrowly missing the Dolphinchaser, before keen elven eyes sent arrows into the crew that worked it, slaying them and keeping others away. The elves' fore mounted bombard then fired with impunity, striking three times before the pirates came about and all but crashed into the side of the Dolphinchaser. The pirates fought to the last man, unwilling to suffer the mercy elves showed pirates, which was to swing from a yardarm by a rope about the. In a matter of minutes the fight was over and the cries of the wounded went up. Halidor returned to the prince and helped him to his feet. The puddle of blood under him was sizeable, but one way or another he would survive, even if the second mate had to sear the wound shut. On their way to the aft cabin where the healers kept a makeshift infirmary they heard a cry go up. Halidor pushed forward, to hear the news that their high priest had fallen to a stray shot from a pistol. He cursed and turned back to Bobo, who looked about confused and uncertain. Halidor frowned and pulled the boy back forward towards the officer's ready room. "Prince, you need to stay with me now, fight off the shock," Halidor said once they were near the doorway and out of immediate earshot of the others. Bobo looked at the man, only vaguely aware of him. He felt so tired and weak he just wanted a chance to rest and let the dream he was in unfold so he could wake up and be back to normal. His fantasy was shattered abruptly when Halidor's fist crashed into the side of his jaw, snapping him fully into reality. "My apologies, my Prince, but it's for your own good," Halidor said, staring intently at him. "The priest is dead, My Lord, and I'm afraid you're not much better off unless we take care of that arm." Bobo glanced down at his throbbing arm, understanding what was happening but still at a loss for why it had happened and how it could possibly happen to him. He took a deep shuddering breath and forced himself to stay calm. What would his father have done in his situation? "We've no magic to restore it here, make it a clean cut, Halidor, and burn it shut," Bobo said, fighting back the tears of frustration, terror, and pain admirably. Halidor nodded, smiling grimly for reassurance, and turned to the door. Bobo pulled back, stopping him. "No, let us do it on the deck so the others can see." "Why, My Lord?" Halidor asked, not understanding. "We are all the same, my friend," Bobo said, some of the weariness from blood loss and extreme stress beginning to creep back into his mind. "Let them see that I am treated no different then anyone else would be." Halidor nodded. He had been told that his charge was stubborn and obstinate at times. It appeared that could be both a blessing and a curse. He just hoped the boy was not trying to show off, as he had been known to do from time to time. "Make a hole!" Halidor called out, leading the wounded prince back onto the deck. The sailors fell away, noticing finally the grievous wound that Bobo had taken. Whispers rushed through the crowd, soon falling to silence. The captain and the remaining healer, little more then an acolyte studying under the priest, came forward. Bobo knelt down and raised his hand alongside the main mast. The captain stepped forward and studied it while Halidor silently drew his cutlass. "Prince, are you sure of this? If we make best speed we can be back in port in less then a week. With a steady tourniquet, a little luck, and the efforts of Acolyte Pariloosia, you should make it, where it can be healed properly," the captain said, doubting his own words but not wanting to run the risk of upsetting the heir to the throne. Kelnozz was respected, admired, and followed gladly. His son was somewhat of an upstart though, and needed much tempering before he would be half the leader his father was, let alone a quarter of the warrior. "We have work to do, Captain, and that does not include returning to port 3 weeks shy. Par is a fine healer but this is no simple wound," Bobo said, surprising himself with the strength in his voice. "That's your sword arm, Highness, you'll never wield your rapier again," the captain reminded him, offering him one final chance, though he was secretly impressed with the maturity Bobo was displaying. Bobo's eyes fell on the pistol tucked into Captain Dilmornigest's belt and an idea came to him. "I'll have to learn to wield it with my left hand then, I suppose. Besides, there are other uses for this once it's taken care of." The captain searched Bobo's eyes and nodded. He turned to Halidor and nodded as well, giving him permission to proceed. Par stepped forward then and summoned up what remained of her healing magic. She touched Bobo's arm and channeled it into him, surprising herself with the severity of the wound. Her blessing touch brought a cool relief to him and gave him a few moments free of pain while her magic cleaned out any potential infection and secured life in the remaining tissue. When the healer backed away Halidor waited for Bobo to nod to him again. He drew his cutlass back and let it swing forward, guided with all his strength and aimed with years of experience tempered in countless battles. The blow fell as intended, shortening Bobo's forearm by another 2 inches but letting it end in a stub instead of a sharply angled spike. Bobo gritted his teeth and felt the bone jarring blow land. He stared at his arm and pulled it to himself, cradling it with his uninjured hand. Halidor wrenched his cutlass away from the mainmast and reached down to help the prince to his feet. Bobo rose unsteadily, blood dripping through his fingers to the deck. A brazier with glowing coals was being fetched and in a moment it was sitting beside him. Bobo glanced over and saw that his rapier had been broken at some point during the battle after he had dropped it. He gestured towards it and someone brought him the hilt of it. He thrust the hilt into the brazier and let his arm hang at his side, dripping blood steadily to the deck. The Broken Sword The burning agony he felt was nothing compared to the cleansing fire he endured when he pulled the broken blade from the fire and pressed it firmly against the bloody wound, searing the veins and blood vessels shut. He gritted his teeth so tightly he saw spots and nearly blacked out from the ferocity of it. Tears streamed from his eyes but through it all he made no sound. Then he was done, his arm ending in a charred and blackened stump. Several of the elves had to back away, the smell of burnt flesh was overpowering. "Now to bed with you, My Lord," Halidor said, reaching out to hold onto Bobo as he swayed uncertainly. Bobo nodded and let himself be led to the healer's room where he would lay in rest for several days recovering his strength. His last vision before he fell asleep was a memory of a strange amulet he had seen one of the pirates wearing. It was carved out of a black rock, perhaps onyx or obsidian, and resembled a squid. Chapter 3 "Fool boy is always trying to prove himself," Kelnozz muttered, staring out the window of his and Alesha's palatial bedroom. Alesha smirked behind him and approached. "No, my love, Bobo is always trying to impress you." Kelnozz turned, scowling. "I have no need of being impressed, why doesn't he understand that? We are elves, we live for ages beyond imagining, he has time to enjoy life and to be just a boy." "You forget, he is not an elf as you are. And I am no elf at all," Alesha reminded him. "He has grown up as I expected he would, as a human child would. Our lives are short and we are always in a hurry to leave our mark upon the world." Kelnozz scoffed. "What of you? You're closing in on 140 years of age and look every bit the buxom wench I met who was only a score of years old." Alesha winked at him and said. "I'll show you buxom..." Kelnozz chuckled, given the opportunity she would indeed. But he was in no mood for play, he had to many things upon his mind. Alesha saw this in him and inwardly sighed. She had hoped she would be able to distract him, even if only for a short while, from his responsibilities. She went forward and hugged him, laying her head upon his shoulder while Kelnozz stared silently beyond her. She knew he was still troubled, though she had tried greatly to distract him from the worries their son caused him. His birth had been nothing short of a miracle. In striking out at Bavorish and refusing to take his place in the pantheon of Viconian Gods, Alesha had been forever sundered from the Gods, be it their actions or the magic of their priests. It was of little concern to her for she had captured a portion of Bavorish's power within herself, more then most mortals could ever hope to dream of, in fact. But her powers were dark and seldom of the type that could be used to heal or aid another. Even when she could there was a price to be paid for it. To give life she had to take life, the balance must be maintained. Thus it was to her amazement that the spark of life caught within her. Bobo was an impossibility made possible only through some sort of outside interaction that she could not fathom. From her childhood chemistry and biology classes on Earth she knew that there must be great differences between human and elven DNA for no children to have produced from a union between the similar peoples. Yet somehow Bobo was born, half human and half elf. Kelnozz had been horrified to see Bobo when he was first born. To many memories of light elven atrocities lived in his mind, for when his son proved to have white skin he had to remind himself it was Alesha's heritage he was showing. He also possessed a thick mane of black hair, like either of them. His features were delicate yet strong in the way of the elves, however, and his eyes possessed the same color as his, including their intense ferocity when the boy set his mind to something and refused to be denied. Bobo had tried hard his entire life to live up to the specter of being the son of the finest warrior in elven history. He possessed no link to Alesha's magic, and for that Alesha was grateful. Her legacy was more of a curse then a boon. It had been given to her from the darkest and most vile of places, yet she had learned that power alone was neither good nor evil, only its use. The lesson had nearly destroyed her on multiple occasions, however. She did not want her son to ever face the things she had, thus she had never showed him how to tap into the power that could be his had he only known about it. They had been shocked and grieved to learn of his accident 3 years past, when he lost his hand while serving with the Elven Navy. At the time, with the resources he had at hand, he had made the right decision. Not even Alesha's power could restore his hand, however. What was more was that he had been nearly 3 months in returning and, though only 19 years old at the time, he had adjusted to using his left hand remarkably well. He had found a use for his right arm as well. It was not an uncommon thing for a sailor to have a stump. With ropes and pirates and accidents at sea such things happened. Bobo had adapted a double barreled pistol into a brace that fit over his stump, allowing him to wear and aim it as an extension of his right arm, it required only his left hand to pull the triggers to let the flint strike the powder. Firepowder had been discovered by the elves of Innowendyn hundreds of years past, but a practical use for it had never been discovered until the dwarves that ran the twin islands and all between and beneath them as the Kingdom of Undersea began producing their own and adapted it into pistols, bombards, and exploding balls. Alesha had paled when she saw these devices and reminded Kelnozz and Garrick's trip to Earth long ago. She begged him to forbid their use and to try to destroy any such knowledge of them, for fear what might happen in the future because of their use. Guns and grenades would lead to greater and bigger weapons of destruction, she insisted, and hundreds of thousands would die because of it. Kelnozz had reminded her of the great battles she had seen and taken part in. Thousands had died already, and with her magic could she not take the lives of just as many as one of the firepowder weapons? Grudgingly she had accepted his logic, but she had vowed that no matter how long she lived and no matter what happened would she ever call upon her scarce knowledge of firearms and explosive devices to create any of them. She knew little, really, other then the concepts that others could engineer devices to accomplish. Yet had it not been for the concept of a wheel people the people of earth would still be hunting and gathering societies. "He's not an elf, Kel, he might be okay if he goes to Thoragloorin," Alesha said at last, bringing herself out of her memories and trying to soothe her troubled husband. "He is no human either, remember," Kelnozz responded darkly. He sighed then and shook his head. "Would that Thoragloorin could stay lost forever." "You don't want that, and you know it." Kelnozz chuckled without humor. "Yes, I do know it. But I can not let him go there. None who enter can ever leave until the forbidding is released, and no elf may enter it at all, such was the power of the wizards that sacrificed themselves to create it." "And there are none more powerful now?" Alesha asked him. "I think not. You are perhaps the greatest Viconia has ever known, save Narellin, and even your power eclipses his, and you know as well as I do that it stands impervious." Alesha nodded. She was greater then Narellin had been at his height, though his range of magic had the potential to be wider. Kelnozz's first son, Darakor, had been an archmage as well, but he was dead and gone and still no comparison. "Garrick?" Alesha asked, thinking of the former God that had become their close companion in the many years since Kelnozz had become the King of the Elves. They had even got over their rivalry that had started centuries back when Alesha had captured him as he masqueraded as a barbarian chieftain. Garrick had toyed with her then, letting her think she had the best of him. "Not even him," Kelnozz said. "And for that matter, I have no idea where he is at these days. It has been years since I last saw him, when he wanted to take Bobo camping with him and turn him into a real man." Kelnozz smirked and Alesha shuddered at the thought of what an extended time spent in the company of the savage man would do to her son. "So what are your plans? I hate it when you get so quiet and thoughtful like this. If you want my help you need to tell me what's going through that pointy-eared head of yours!" Alesha said, tapping her fingers roughly against his forehead. Kelnozz just smirked. "I have my eyes out looking for someone who can help. Your part is soon to come, I think. I need you to meet them and tell me if you think they will work." Alesha looked at him, her eyes questioning him, but he would say no more of it. "I think you worry too much, as you have always done. Bobo will be fine, whether he goes or not. You can not control his surroundings forever, you know. Let the boy be the man he wants to be. He will never be you, Kel, he is something of each of us and there are literally worlds of difference between us." Kelnozz lay there, hearing her words and thinking about them in spite of his desire to do so. Before he could digest them all she continued. "Because he is so different everything you think you learned from your relationship with your father does not apply here. He is elf, but he is also human. He needs our support and our love and most importantly, our trust that he can do things on his own, without our help." "When he lost his hand," Alesha said, forestalling any comment Kelnozz was going to make. "He did something then that you admitted made you very proud. From all accounts he stood up to what had happened with responsibility and did what had to be done, publicly as much as admitting his error and his willingness to learn from it. We were both proud then, even though it was a terrible tragedy." "And that," Kelnozz said, interrupting her and earning a scathing glare which he could only smirk at. "That is why I fear for him." "The best lessons are the hardest ones to learn," Alesha said, resting her head back on his shoulder and rubbing her hand across the defined muscles of his stomach. "Perhaps that is another thing father and son share, for you seem unwilling to learn this one." Chapter 4 Alesha peered about the smoky tavern room, searching. The door shut behind her and no one paid her any mind, cloaked in her magic as she was. Far from invisible, she nevertheless was not easily noticeable; the gaze of the most perceptive of people simply passed over her without noticing her. All save for one. She saw him looking at her and smiled. She had found her objective. "May I sit here?" She inquired, having moved through the crowd so quickly and fluidly that the man who watched her had barely noticed her approach. He nodded, his throat suddenly dry, and she pulled out one of the two unoccupied chairs of the table. "Well met, can we help you?" The other man at the table said, surprised at her more or less appearing out of nowhere, as far as he was concerned. Then he was even more surprised when she threw back the hood on her cloak and he beheld her black hair curling around the edges of her beautiful face. "Perhaps you can," she said ambiguously. She stared at both men for a long moment, taking their measure with her eyes. Neither spoke, somehow sensing that she was judging them but also sensing no guile or ill intent in her. "Whom do you serve?" Alesha asked, looking at the man who had spoken. She knew the answer to her own question but she wished to hear him speak of it. "My Lord Alto is the one to whom I answer," he replied without hesitation. She nodded. He wore the robes of a fighting monk, a relatively rare but powerful sect in the church of Alto. It was said that they could perform feats with their bodies that rivaled that which was possible. She had never met one before but she wondered if it was mere discipline or divine magic that enabled them to do such things. "And you?" She turned to face the other man, a wizard by his appearance. "With all due respect, Milady, I would know who you are first? You, after all, are the one cloaked mysteriously both in magic and garment," he responded. "You are astute, I see your Mistress at the Academy of Magic spoke truly of you," Alesha said, smiling approvingly at him. She glanced around and let the magic shielding her disperse. To the two men it was as though she suddenly stepped out of a dark room, though the lighting had not changed. Nevertheless she suddenly captured all of their attention with her presence. "Milady," the monk said, trying to stumble to his feet to kneel before her. Somewhat slower because of his being dazzled by her beauty and charisma, the magician tried to follow suit. "Sit, young men, and be silent, please," Alesha said, trying not to laugh at their sudden reaction. "I presume that means you know of me now?" "I do not, but I have no doubt of your nobility and piety," said the monk, suspecting she was an agent of Alto sent to deliver unto him a quest. Alesha actually did laugh at his words. The laughter was tinged by only the faintest touch of bitterness; she had long grown accustomed to her separation from the Gods of the world. It had left her feeling hollow at first, as though she was missing something important, but as the years passed she grew accustomed to it and then was able to forget about it completely with the birth of Bobo. Being reminded of it still sometimes caused a dull ache within her though. "None by right of birth, I can assure you," she said with a tight lipped smile. "And you misspeak yourself gravely when you accuse me of piety, Nathanial." The monk's eyes widened and his mouth opened and closed a few times before he spoke. "You know our names? How else could you save for divine blessings?" Briefly Alesha toyed with the thought of darkening her image into that of the evil seductress she had been so very long ago, showing him the possibilities that were beyond his ability to consider. "Ah, to be so young and so innocent. Naïve, really, I envy you." "You're scarcely possible to be more then a year or so my elder, Milady," Nathaniel said, fighting off the indignity caused to his pride by her words. "I meant no insult, my friend, simply a statement on my part and if I caused you injury, I apologize," Alesha said. "Nathan, be silent, you babble and the Mistress of the Elves surely has better things to do then to bandy words with you," the wizard scolded, though his own gaze scarcely strayed from her. Nathanial's eyes widened as he made the connection. They were indeed in Loralost on the isle of Innowendyn, in a tavern by the name of The New Age. They had returned so that Gregory, Nathanial's magic using companion, could finish his final project and graduate from the Academy of Magic as an enchanter. It had required the two of them to travel far and wide to the island nation of Herdonia, where they had to investigate an artifact of great power that secured the island from ruin by time, nature, and enemy attack. The Rock of Herdonia had been stolen, however, and only a thorough investigation had enabled them to find it and restore it to the cavern deep beneath the island to right the wrongs that had been happening to the people and the lands of Herdonia. Where else would he expect to run into such a powerful, beautiful, and important woman such as Alesha Risingmoon? Nathanial made to stand and kneel before her again, now that he more properly knew of her. Only her hand on his arm kept him seated, though it seemed to pain him greatly. "I think, of the two of us, you are filled with far more nobility then I," Alesha said, good natured laughter in her eyes. "Now then, to the nature of my business with you fine young men. I have heard of your deeds and I applaud you for them, I needed to meet with you and see how genuine you were, and I believe I have seen it. If you are willing my husband has something he would speak of with you. A perilous quest that he requires some unique talent for." "Of course, Milady, we will gladly undertake it!" Nathanial said resolutely. Gregory sighed and shook his head, smiling apologetically at Alesha when she looked at him. Laughter showed in her eyes. So young and eager to please, she could scarcely remember those days so long ago was it. "Come to the palace tomorrow evening, tell the steward who you are and he will take care of you from there," she said, standing back up and throwing her cowl over her head again. "Gentlemen, I bid you a good evening. Until the morrow." Both men blinked and looked at each other. She had disappeared before their very eyes. The door opened and closed but they saw no one go through it. Shaking their heads they turned back to one another, unanswered questions hanging thickly in the air. As one they both turned to a nearby barmaid and called out loudly for ale. ***** Dressed in the finest clothing they could afford Nathanial and Gregory were admitted into the private office of the King of Innowendyn. Two elven guards wearing finely crafted light weight plate mail stood outside of the door, one to a side. They stood casual but always ready to respond at an instant's notice. "Welcome," Alesha said, rising from where she was sitting rather casually on the edge of the large wooden desk Kelnozz sat behind. Kelnozz rose as well, a plain but tired smile upon his face. Both wore garments that were simple for their offices, but still cut of a cloth far beyond the means of the two visiting adventurers. Kelnozz wore simple dark brown breeches and a dark blue shirt, with his weapon belt leaning against his desk beside him, something he would never be far from no matter his position or situation. Alesha wore a light blue vest trimmed with crimson lace and rubies as well as a black skirt that clung to her hips and was diagonally cut so that it hung lower on her left leg then on her right. "Well met, friends," he said, stepping out from behind the desk and coming towards them. Both Gregory and Nathan's eyes widened at King Risingmoon's nonplussed behavior. Both bowed deeply in subservience to him. Kelnozz sighed audibly. "Rise, good sirs, I would like your help and your services, but not your subservience." They straightened and stood stiffly, puffing out their chests proudly and scarcely believing they were in a private non-formal conference with the King of the Elves. Kelnozz studied them for a moment, fighting the urge to smirk as they nearly tripped over themselves. Finally he managed to choke himself down to a smile before he leaned back against his desk and began. "Tell me what you know of Thoragloorin," he said, watching them for a reaction. Nathan's frowned as he pondered the name, but it was a quick search through his memory before he came up with nothing. "Thora-what... Sir?" "Thoragloorin," Gregory supplied. "It is the ancient elven homeland located on Belurian. Nobody knows where it is though, but it is rumored to hold the lost magics of the greatest strengths of the elves before they were lost in the Kinslayer Wars." Kelnozz looked impressed. He nodded his head thoughtfully. "Yes, yes that is correct. Apparently that Academy we have is doing a better job then I thought they were." Gregory had the good grace to blush at the praise. "Actually, My Lord, I looked up most of it on my own after hearing a rumor about it a long time ago at the Academy of Magic." "Oh? What prompted such curiosity?" Again Gregory blushed. "I am an enchanter, Your Lordship, and items imbued with magic therefore are my tools of the trade. Some of the greatest ensorcelled items in the world are said to come from Thoragloorin, though the only one I have ever seen was the Rock of Herdonia. Thus my interest." The Broken Sword Kelnozz sent an agonizing look at Alesha, who only barely managed to avoid bursting out in laughter at Gregory and Nathaniel's repeated use of honorifics. "Fair enough," Kelnozz said, letting the matter or formality drop. "There are people who know where it is, and I am one of them." Gregory's eyes widened in surprise. "You know where Thoragloorin is? Is it passed down in elven history? Or something taught only to royalty?" Kelnozz grinned at Gregory's blurted out response. Or more so, at his lack of any use of titles. "Well done, Gregory, you've gotten past all the silly name calling!" Alesha said, clapping her hands in twisted delight at Kelnozz's expense. Kelnozz just chuckled at her jibe. "Yes, I know where it is. I was born there, over five thousand years past." "Five thousand...." Nathaniel trailed off, stunned at the impossibility of the number. "Elves do not feel the passing of years as other races do. Ogres were once the same as well," Kelnozz explained. "Ogres?" Alesha and Gregory spoke at the same time. Kelnozz glanced at his wife with an amused expression before continuing. "Indeed. Bavorish and Ancaruin seeded this world with life many ages past, and the elves and the ogres were a part of the world, living as the world lived. The elves happily embraced the world and nature, but the ogres felt differently. They strove to take from it and bend and shape it to their will. Bavorish saw much promise in them, and took them under his wing. They betrayed him though, refusing to work for him once they had learned a great many things from him. Not a God yet, he cursed them instead of destroying them all. Their curse caused them to find only the most unattractive and undesirable partners suitable for mating." Kelnozz paused to enjoy the stunned expressions on the faces of his captive audience. "The inbreeding that ensued caused them to lose their bond with Viconia. From ogres sprang the other races : dwarves, orcs, giants, and others." "Others?" Nathanial asked hesitantly, almost afraid to know the answer. "Yes, even men can claim ogre blood in their ancestry, though it is easily 10000 years back if not further." Alesha looked on, surprised. There were many things she needed to think about, in light of this news. Gregory was thoughtful as well, imagining the far reaching ramifications of the information. Nathan was stunned, having more then a little difficulty coming to terms that in some extremely distant way he was related to the large, smelly, and barbaric beasts he had been told to hate and kill since he was old enough to walk. "Enough history, I would speak of the future," Kelnozz said loudly, forcing their attention back to him. "It is time Thoragloorin was reclaimed and the elves given the choice of where they would live. There are many who would stay here, but some of those who remember Thoragloorin's mystical beauty and some of those who are younger and more idealistic would like to see it renewed." "What must we do?" Nathanial said, straightening again and proving himself ready to face whatever odds were necessary. "Wait, Nathanial," Gregory said, putting his hand on the slightly younger man's shoulder. Before he turned to address Kelnozz. "Why us? You command thousands of elves, why not send an army in to recapture it?" Nathanial looked to Gregory as though he were mad, questioning the whims of the King. Kelnozz nodded and smiled though, showing no concerns. "Wise questions, I am doubly certain you are the right people for this task. I wish it to remain unknown that I seek to reclaim Thoragloorin, firstly. Secondly, no elf may enter Thoragloorin, a mystical shield surrounds it." "There is more," Alesha said, walking next to Kelnozz and hopping up so that she sat on the desk beside him. Her legs were side by side but in the skin hugging skirt both men involuntarily felt their eyes drawn to them. Nathanial alone was able to resist, his discipline long since built up against temptation in his service to the church of Alto. Gregory did so only after remembering where he was and who he was in front of. Neither Kelnozz nor Alesha showed any sign of noticing their discomfort. "There will be a third member of your company, and between the three of you the seal that keeps Thoragloorin apart from Viconia must be brought down," she said, pointedly ignoring the dark mien that came across Kelnozz's face as she spoke. "Who is to be the third?" Gregory asked after glancing at Nathanial. "Our son." Chapter 5 In ages past the light elves had defeated the dark elves and forced them to exile far from the shores of Belurian. To deny the forsaken elves, later to become light elves, any of Thoragloorin's treasures the five most powerful wizards of the dark elven nation gave their lives fashioning the shield that would deny exit to anyone from within the city. Likewise no elf would be able to enter the city from without. But the seal could be broken. The council of elders that ran the Academy of Magic kept the secret. And they were subject to the whims of their king. The secret to the seal was a jeweled crown atop a mystical fountain in the great courtyard of the palace. The crown needed to be destroyed, but such was it's magic that it could only be unwrought in the greatest of flames within Thoragloorin. What could create those flames was unknown to the elders, as it had never been passed on to them. And of course the crown was protected as well, though by what was a secret the wizards took to the grave with them. All of that information was passed on to Gregory and Nathaniel ere they met the prince. Their meeting with the prince was even more informal as their meeting with Kelnozz and Alesha had been. It was set in another tavern, this one heavily populated by off duty guards. Just how "off duty" they were was highly suspect, in Gregory's and Nathanial's minds. A lone man sat at a table, drinking a mug of ale with his left hand. His right hand was unseen, hidden below the table. The two companions sized him up as they approached, knowing who he was without needing to be told. White skinned he nevertheless possessed the fair and delicate features of the elves without being quite as tall and scrawny in appearance. His thick black hair also set him apart from the elven race, though the sparkling intensity of his brown eyes would never be mistaken for a humans. "I am Gregory, My Lord, the enchanter. My companion is Nathanial a monk of Alto," Gregory said when they both stood across the table from him. Bobo looked up at them and nodded, hiding his distaste from his face. "Be seated then, and let us discuss the way of things to be." The two companions glanced at each other and sat down, signaling the barmaid for ales. Bobo looked them over as they did so and nodded. "You'll do. Of course with my father and mother having already spoken with you I am sure they already knew that. But tell me, what would make two free men readily sign on for such an adventure?" "Alto works in mysterious ways, My Lord," Gregory said. "He has given me many visions in my life, showing me the things I must strive for and accomplish. While this is not one of them, it is along the same line of seeking to do a good thing." Bobo chuckled. "Yes, well, if it is a good thing, as you say, then it is good to have the Gods with us I suppose. I find it never hurts to have some divine favor on your side." His strange smile left both companions mystified as to the hidden joke, but they chose to press on rather then dwell on it. "On top of that I must confess a strong desire to witness and study the magics of Thor... the place we go to. Your father has offered us whatever treasure we find within that we may keep." Gregory stumbled over the name of the ancient elven homeland, remembering only just in time that the nature of their mission was to remain a secret. The Prince smirked. "Say what you will here, these are all men loyal to the King and pretending so very hard to pay no interest in what goes on at our table that clearly every word said is being memorized by a score of ears." "And you, Prince? Why do you wish to do this? From the look on the King's face he would rather not have you facing such perils." Nathanial asked boldly, making Gregory glance to him wide eyed at his audacity. Bobo blinked in surprise at the question. He was unused to being challenged, yet this priest had just done so. He smiled and nodded, "I think I'm going to get along with you two quite well. I do it to get out and to live. Always I am surrounded by bodyguards and those who would protect me from experiencing life. My father means well but only my mother truly understands me, I suspect." Nathanial nodded and leaned forward, extending his right hand in an offer of friendship. Bobo smirked again and raised his own right arm above the top of the table and let it land on the table. His arm ended in a stump perhaps 4 inches below his elbow. Nathanial's face paled then flooded red in embarrassment. Bobo chuckled and extended his left hand, "Perhaps this one instead?" He asked good naturedly. Nathanial laughed away his awkwardness and met him, each gripping the other's forearm. "Doesn't that make wielding a sword difficult?" Gregory asked. "I suppose you must be left handed because of it, but still, you fight backwards against most of your opponents, don't you?" Bobo nodded, still smiling. "Puts them off balance. I have a few tricks up my sleeve as well. You will see them soon enough. Meet me at the docks in 4 days, look for the Dolphinchaser. She's the finest ship in the Elven Navy and I'll have words with any man who says otherwise." Gregory and Nathanial both nodded, standing up and bidding him a good day. They left the tavern scant moments before the barmaid approached the table with two jacks of ale in her hands. She looked around then looked at Bobo, who shrugged indifferently. "Will your friends be returning, Your Highness?" She asked. Bobo looked at her for a minute before responding. "Friends? Well, perhaps they might just be. Time will tell." The barmaid looked at him strangely, wondering what he was talking about. She was about to ask again when he seemed to come to his senses. "My apologies, Katarin, I was lost in thought. No, they will not be returning to this table tonight. Leave the ale though, I find myself thirsty." Katarin smiled and put the two jacks in front of him, taking his empty one from him and disappearing back into the kitchen. Bobo raised the first tankard to his lips and pondered again that which was in store for him, as well as the two humans his parents had found to accompany him. It looked to be an adventure, and a damned sight more exciting then hunting pirates! Or whatever the buccaneers the Freewater Society secretly employed to harass shipping in ports not sanctioned by them called themselves. Chapter 6 They had been at sea four days, sailing into the setting sun towards the chain of islands that made up the Chachopeyan Empire and beyond them another week to the mainland of Belurian. Already two ships had veered close until they could make out the sails identifying the ship and then veered away. Three others had been spotted as well, but they were either merchant ships or another caravel of the Elven Navy. Gregory and Nathanial, neither a stranger to traveling the ocean, were still impressed with the ease and grace that Bobo employed while helping out the crew on the ship. He seemed to not only know what and when to do things, but also every member of the crew. They treated him as one of their own. It was two days into the voyage that Gregory had commented on it to Bobo, drawing a good natured laugh from him. He told them that he had served on the Dolphinchaser for 6 months during his two year stint in the Elven Navy, and that without exception the Dolphinchaser was his favorite ship. It was the finest crew and the fastest ship, without argue, he maintained. In no position to debate, both men had accepted him at face value. Bobo also explained how he lost his hand while fighting pirates on board the Dolphinchaser, and how he had recovered from it and had a hook fashioned on a sling that fit over his arm to help him maintain his usefulness. He had other tools too, but those the two would see in time. They put in briefly at a small port town in the Chachopeyan Isles to resupply the ship, and were off before nightfall sailing again. It took nearly a total of two weeks before the ship sailed into the passage marked with buoys through the waters rife with volcanic reefs and managed to dock at Port Easton, the most south-eastern port town on Belurian. From Port Easton they traveled by horseback to the west, heading down ancient roads created before any could remember. Any save a few select elves, that is. They passed three other towns, all smaller waypoints along the way, until a large swamp began to loom off to the left. The road skirted the northern edge of the swamp, and was traveled frequently enough that there were seldom any problems encountered. Fate smiled kindly upon the three adventurers this time as well, for they were nearly past it before Bobo pulled up sharply as they drew even with a strange rock formation clearly seen many miles to the south in the small mountain range that lay within the middle of the swamp. "We go there," Bobo said, pointing through the swamp towards the mountains. "Thoragloorin lays within those mountains." "Oh good, a swamp," Gregory said sarcastically. "Maybe I can make myself some gator skin boots by the time we come out... if I'm not eaten alive." Bobo grinned at him and hopped off his horse, reaching into on of his saddlebags and pulling out a strange contraption neither Nathan or Gregory had yet seen. He slipped it on his arm and secured the buckles to it, then turned to face them. It was clearly a modified firepowder pistol, though with two barrels. "It will do you little good to worry about alligators," Bobo said, still grinning. "There are far worse things that lay between us." Gregory's mouth opened but no words came out. Bobo had turned and headed off towards the swamp, counting on them to catch up. "What did he mean, worse things?" Gregory asked Nathanial as the monk hopped off his own horse and adjusted his robes before hurrying after the half-elven prince. "Come and find out, why don't you?" Nathanial said over his shoulder, taking care to follow Bobo's tracks as closely as he could. They walked through increasingly damp ground until it became muddy and sucked at their feet. Nathanial lost his sandals to the muck in no time, finally giving up and wrapping them in a piece of cloth after washing them off in one of the many puddles of stagnant water that surrounded them and slipping them into a large pouch that hung from the rope he tied around his waist. Soon the ground gave way to the swamp entirely, with only occasional mounds of earth rising above the water. Bobo kept them on a course where firmer ground lay only a few inches beneath the surface of the water. How he knew where to go baffled the other two men, they could only assume that it was either a property of his unique heritage or he had been counseled by Kelnozz. Occasionally a nearby splash or a flutter of wings as a bird took to the sky startled them. Bobo glanced back at them one time, a very intent look on his face, and motioned them all to silence. Very stealthily he crept through the water and up to a nearby small hill that rose out of the water. He crouched behind some bushes and motioned for the other two to join him. Not as naturally talented at stealth as the Prince was, they nevertheless drew no attention to themselves when they crouched beside him. The inched up and looked over the edge the hill and around the gnarled roots of a half dead Cyprus tree, nearly gasping aloud at when they realized what it was Bobo was looking at. Concealed by bushes and the murky water, a giant scaled thing was laying in wait for its dinner. Several small fish gasped for air on the dry surface of the tiny isle the creature used for its trap. Some were already dead and others nearly there, their fate assured regardless of whether they returned to water or not. In the trees above several large birds hopped about, watching less then patiently and waiting for a sign that they could dive in on the feast below. The true predator was over 20 feet long easily, but how long it was they could not tell for it's snakelike body trailed into the water and lay beneath the surface. It had several sets of legs, spaced evenly down it's length, allowing it to pull it's massive weight without dragging along the ground. It's head was large as well, large enough to bite a full grown man in half with a single chomp, though they had yet to see it open it's mouth to verify that it did indeed have millions of razor sharp teeth as they suspected. Their wait was short lived, however. A bird finally grew impatient and fluttered down, grabbing a fish with its talons and trying to beat its wings to fly away quickly. The creature was faster though, and it rocketed forward catching the bird in its mouth and chewing on it only twice before swallowing it. Both men backed down from the small ridge and looked at each other, eyes wide. Another glance and they saw that the creature had returned to its hiding spot, waiting for another bird to descend. A few feathers floated softly to the ground, only now coming to rest. Bobo motioned them away and led them back through the swamp to the trail, then quietly and slowly along it until at least 20 minutes and half a mile had passed. He pulled up short then and smiled at the two, who were looking back over their shoulder nervously. "Frightened?" Bobo asked softly. Gregory nodded, no attempt at false bravado present. Nathanial glanced back again before saying, "I fear no man or woman of this world, though perhaps I should, but what in the nine hells was that thing?" "Cousin to a dragon I am told, a swamp-wyrm," Bobo explained. "Though that is the first I have seen. Rather impressive, I think." "Impressive?" Gregory spat out, amazed at his calm behavior. "How would you even hope to kill such a thing?" "Siege equipment," Nathanial said with a ghost of a grin. Bobo chuckled and nodded. "Aye, that would be one way. I'm told either magic, a very sharp blade, or aiming for their eyes or mouth, where they are more vulnerable. That is the first I have seen of one, but this swamp is supposedly filled with them." "So that would be the worse thing you mentioned?" Gregory asked. "One of them. When we get to the mountains there will be other threats, mountain-wyrms, similar to the swap-wyrm but smaller. Then there are the wyverns..." Nathanial and Gregory looked at each other and just shook their heads. Silently the three of them continued, though all were more wary now then ever before. They managed to emerge from the swamp unharassed. A few times in the distance Gregory or Nathan would have sworn they saw the ruins of an ancient building, but they never approached so were forced to remain uncertain. The swamp ended abruptly, the muddy ground climbing higher rapidly and drying out quickly. It rose into some low foothills and from there into mountains ahead of them. The unseen path Bobo led them down remained fairly level, though occasionally strewn with broken rocks that had fallen from great heights. It became apparent that at one point long ago it had been a major thoroughfare. Shortly after they entered the mountains the ruins of a great gatehouse rose ahead of them. The walls that stretched to the nearby cliffs on either side had long since fallen into mounds of rubble, as had the gate itself. A lonely tower remained, itself only a few years from unrecognizable rubble. The scene was one of stillness, with the sun passing just beyond the easternmost ridge of the cliff and casting the valley into shadow.