The rising, p.5
The Rising, page 5
part #3 of The Onis Chronicles Series
The master mages began to whirl their staffs again, preparing for another assault, when they all suddenly froze in place. They watched as the lush green pasture of their sanctuary withered and died, spreading outward from around the elf and stopping just before them. The power from the mystical place surged through the Omi Méa, giving her a jittery feeling as she raised her right knee, stomping her foot firmly on the ground. Bracing herself against her knee, she slowly but firmly stood back up and faced the mages.
“So you wish to see my powers?!” she hollered to them as she flexed her hands down at her sides.
A look of distress filled their eyes as they prepared themselves for her attack. They were aghast as they witnessed her steadily lift off the ground and hover a few feet in the air while a howling wind began whipping wildly through the field around them. They held tightly to their staffs as the air currents increased, spiraling past them and around the Omi Méa. But their grips mattered not as their staffs were plucked like petals from their fingers and tossed asunder by Laila’s mind-summoning whilst she simultaneously caused a small and focused tornado to develop around her, remaining unphased within its eye. Just before the twister completed its formation, the air blasted outward from her, thrashing over the onlookers and sweeping several off their feet.
Recovering from the shock of the airstream, they immediately scrambled for their weapons. Once they were securely back on their feet, the watermasters cast in unison, “Ferosta Lacarté!” and a series of ice shards darted toward Laila. She was enthralled by the energy she absorbed from the ground here. It appeared as though everything was coming at her in slow motion now. She was no longer panicked. She had no fear, watching the shards flying delicately on the wind in her direction, rotating on their axes. Upon raising her hands to them, the projectiles stopped in midair, hovering around her while she admired their sparkling radiance. Laila then lowered her hands again and the ice instantly melted, splashing down to the ground.
When the fire came at her in a wave of flames, she raised her hands again, and a rock wall jutted up from the ground before her, blocking the attack from scorching her skin. The earthmasters quickly used their magic to collapse the wall before them, revealing the Omi Méa as she descended back to the ground.
“Impressive!” Thorton called out to the young elf. “But what of fire?”
Tilting her head at the old firemaster, Laila blinked at him, and a ring of fire instantly ignited, encompassing him.
“Dimisna,” he cast quietly with a roll of his hand, extinguishing the flames. “Very good! Very good indeed!” Firemaster Thornton chuckled as he raised his hands to the others to cease the attacks. Their demeanor changed in a wink as smiles took over their stern snarls.
“Do you require I show you the phantom realm spirits?” Laila asked, disturbingly calm as her eyes began to haze over with a chilling look across her face.
The sorcerers looked back and forth at each other with looks of consternation painting their visage. Although curious, they knew all too well from their dealings with the dark elves how harrowing calling upon the phantom spirits could be.
“That is alright,” Firemaster Thornton declared, “I think we have seen enough of your phantom magic already with the unusual forcefield you created. I have never witnessed such a spell.”
Laila stopped pulling forth from the phantom realm, and her eyes quickly returned to their natural crystal-blue and white state. She even began to let go of the magical surge that she had pulled from this strange place, releasing it back out and into the ground. As it left her body, everything resumed flowing at normal speed around her again, and some of the life returned to the field. Even though she rather enjoyed the feel of the extra power within her, she felt relieved to feel like herself once more.
Thornton secured his staff to his back while reapproaching Davion and Laila, then welcomingly raised his hands towards them. “And, young Davion!” he beamed. “I think it is fair to say that you have well surpassed not only my expectations of you, but the required skills that normally take decades to master, and then some.” Crossing his arms over his chest, he analyzed the young sorcerer before him.
“Thank you,” Davion said, overwhelmed with pride. “It truly means a lot coming from you.”
“Now then,” Thornton continued, “Enough playing around. What is it you seek from us?” he inquired curiously. “I assume it was not merely my validation.”
Swallowing a hard lump in his throat, Davion peered around, witnessing the other mages gathering closer, just as curious about what had brought them here. As he tried to prepare himself, Davion smiled humbly and said, “You are right.” Taking a deep breath, he continued while striving to hide his nervousness, “We are next to Roco to see King Lyson about requesting troops for our cause. However, before we do, I had thought that having a gathering of powerful mages on our side as well would prove most beneficial and perhaps be the advantage we need against Aeris and her followers.”
Letting out a grievous sigh, Thornton placed his hands on his hips as he stared considerately at Davion. “That is a big request, young pyromancer. We are but old and tired from the world, and although you did remarkably well against us, I’m afraid a horde of dragons is an entirely different feat.” Seeing a look of disappointment sweeping over Davion’s face, he told him, “I am not necessarily refusing. We can all see that there is clearly great power emanating from this elf, but…” The old human pyromancer looked over at Laila and continued, “…how can we be certain you are ready for such a challenge so soon into your young life?”
Speaking with as much confidence as she was able, Laila told them, “By confronting the dragon clans and requesting the two-legged nations unite against the reigning ancient dragons of Onis, the prophecy has been set in motion. Whether I am ready or not, Aeris is coming and is determined to wipe out every last two-legged from this land.” She took a deep breath and swallowed nervously, gauging their reaction before continuing, “When Aeris comes for the humans, you can face her united with all of the races working together protecting all two-leggeds, or you can hope and pray that she passes you by. Just know that the Great Aeris is compiling an army of her own from all the dragon clans as well.”
Thornton glared at the young elf, then glanced briefly at the faces of the other sorcerers encompassing them. Standing firmly, he looked back at Laila, stating, “It appears you have left us with little choice.” He sighed exasperatedly before continuing, “We mages have been adept at keeping Mira safe from harm until now but have never faced more than a handful of dragons at once.” The old pyromancer crossed his arms over his chest as he continued staring at Laila. “I cannot speak for the whole of the human nation; you will still need to approach King Lyson for that. But, I will speak with my fellow magi, and we shall consider your request.”
Withholding her excitement, Laila nodded appreciatively at the firemaster while Davion remained stoic. He was disheartened that Thornton did not seem very willing to leap at the opportunity of joining their cause. Though he felt confident that the master mages would eventually agree to assist, he believed it would only be due to Laila making it appear dire for them if they didn’t.
“Before we go,” Laila spoke out a little less confidently, “one of our comrades is being held by the guards. I was hoping to gain him clearance to enter. Is that something you would be able to assist with?”
“Why would your comrade be held captive by the guards and need our assistance?” Thornton queried, bemused.
Clearing his throat uncomfortably, Davion revealed, “He is drow.”
“Oh, yes. That would be a problem, wouldn’t it?” Firemaster Thornton contemplated. After a moment and a grumbling sigh, he told them, “I will see what can be done, but I make no promises.”
“Thank you,” Laila said, bowing respectfully to the mage. “I assure you that he will not do harm to anyone. He is as much a part of this quest as Davion or I.”
Davion clenched his jaw at her words as he grasped Firemaster Thornton’s hand, shaking it, then divulged, “We will be staying at the Miran Lake Inn for whenever you are ready to speak with us again.”
Nodding his head, the firemaster replied, “You shall hear from us soon, young pyromancer.”
Laila gave a slight nod and peered curiously around at the other sorcerers, silently praying for their support.
Davion abruptly grabbed her hand while bowing his head in respect to the mages, saying, “Thank you all for your time.” He then turned briskly away with her in his clutch and led her back toward the entrance.
Davion didn’t know why, but he had just assumed that Firemaster Thornton and the other mages would have been more eager and excited for the opportunity to help the Omi Méa put a stop to the dragons’ tyrannical reign. The old firemaster’s lack of enthusiasm for their proposal had caught him off guard, and he blushed, shamefaced, as they hurriedly exited out the way they came. Laila was confused by his haste to depart but followed his lead nonetheless.
After he had dragged her through the doorway, Laila looked back toward the mystical place. Her jaw dropped in surprise upon finding it utterly black as before, seeing no one beyond its threshold as the crooked door closed noiselessly behind them.
CHAPTER FOUR
Divided
With most of the group reunited back in the tavern at Miran Lake Inn, Davion, Laila, Salyaman, and Glondora sat at a sizable wooden table, waiting for the barmaid to bring their meals.
“Do you think they will agree to join us?” Laila asked Davion after they had caught the other two up on their visit to the mage emporium.
“I don’t know,” Davion replied bluntly, looking agitatedly around. “Where is that food? I’m starving.”
“It is in their best interest to do so, Lady Laila,” Salyaman told her reassuringly.
“Aye, m’lady,” Glondora added. “I be sures they will. Jus’ ye wait.”
Looking off to a low-burning fireplace on the far wall, Laila sighed heavily. She couldn’t help but wonder how Nikolean was getting along as a prisoner in another dungeon. It saddened her that such hate lived within the same world she had grown up in that would cause the races to dislike one another so severely. Even though she had witnessed the cruel ways of the drow and could understand the other nations' dislike of them, it was her hope and prayer that it would not always be this way. Laila believed her Nikolean to be proof that not all drow are evil and wondered if fulfilling the prophecy would truly unite the land as it claims, including the dark elf people.
“Ah, finally!” Davion barked as the young barmaid, around his age, approached with their food. “It took long enough,” he snapped.
Due to the group’s extraordinary diversity, the girl neared them timidly. She quickly set the plates on the table before them, then hovered near Davion for a moment, smiling shyly at him.
“That’ll be all,” he stated, and tossed a pit coin at her.
The girl clumsily managed to catch the coin and tuck it in her pocket before promptly taking her leave. Watching on after the barmaid as she headed back to the kitchen, Laila thought Davion had been rather rude to her but was more curious as to why she hadn’t seemed to mind. Laila was unfamiliar with human hierarchy and social classes, being used to witnessing more treatment of equality among the other races apart from the leaders. Davion immediately picked up a meaty roasted poultry leg the size of his forearm and began tearing at it with his teeth.
After a few minutes into their meal, the door to the inn swung open on its creaky hinges. Every person within the tavern abruptly stood, and the room filled with the sounds of chair legs scraping across the wood floors. Each of the crowd members hastily drew any weapons or blunt objects they could muster as they stared towards the entrance. Following their glares, Laila jumped up excitedly when she saw Nikolean standing there, the light of the setting sun outlining his silhouette in the doorway.
“He is with us!” she called out frantically before anyone could approach him.
Salyaman and Glondora stood as well while Davion continued gnawing on his leg bone without acknowledging the disturbance at all.
Ever-so-cautiously, Nikolean made his way over to their table with his hands peaceably held upward at chest level. As soon as he reached them, Laila wrapped her arms lovingly around him, placing her head on his chest. All else the same, he remained firm with his hands held up, observing their audience, who were still watching him closely without retiring their weapons.
“Hello, my lady,” he told her quietly.
When she released her hold on him, Salyaman stepped forward and braced forearms with the dark elf. “It is good that you could join us,” he voiced loudly in a friendly manner, attempting to relieve the anxieties of the other patrons.
“Aye, tis good ta see ye,” Glondora added with a smile.
“Thank you, Sal and Glondy,” Nikolean told them gratefully. As he took a seat at the table, he nodded at the human and said firmly, “Davion.”
“Drow,” the human replied without taking any attention off of his meal, continuing to tear at the meat.
Clattering sounds and scuffling chairs filled the room as over half of the crowd haughtily left the establishment, mumbling displeasures on their way out. With sad eyes, Laila watched them leave, sensing the hatred seeping off of them while those that remained continued to stare their way.
“My, Niko, ye sure know how ta clear a room ‘ere, dunna’ ye?” Glondora said, chuckling nervously from all the eyes watching them.
Just then, they all—except Davion—turned to look at a large man approaching the table. He was wiping his hands off on an apron tied at the neck and waist, his eyes fixed on the drow.
The man cleared his throat as he reached the table and said with disdain, “I’m not sure how you managed to get past the guards, but I don’t tolerate any nonsense in my inn. I am going to have to ask you to leave at once.”
Before Nikolean could stand, Laila jumped up and addressed the innkeeper, “Please, sir. I promise there will be no nonsense. We are on our way to Roco to speak with the king on a mission of peace. This man has dedicated his life to putting an end to the war with the dragons and to unite the races. Surely you can allow a savior of Onis a meal and a bed for one night?” Laila looked at him with pleading eyes.
“A savior of Onis?!” he scoffed, staring back at her. “You say no nonsense, yet that is the most nonsense I have ever heard come from anyone.”
Laila’s heart sank, unsure of how to convince him. It didn’t seem fair to her that Nikolean be treated so poorly when he was set out to save them all.
Standing at his spot at the table, Salyaman said regally to the man, “I am Salyaman Dula’Sintos, son of Rath Beldroth Dula’Sintos, ruler of Má Lyndor. Upon my honor, I vouch for this dark elf, Nikolean Den Faolin, and assure you that you will receive no trouble from us.”
“I already have!” the innkeeper snapped at the elf. “You lot have scared off most of my customers and have the rest on the edge of their seats.”
Grabbing a pouch from his waistcoat, Salyaman tossed it at the innkeeper, who snatched it from the air and looked at the elf curiously. “We do not wish to alarm anyone. If they cannot share the room with my friend here, then I request the private use of your establishment for the evening.”
Peeking inside the pouch, the innkeeper’s eyes grew wide upon finding several emperor and gatlin coins within. He then gaped back up at the elf prince and nodded before turning to face the rest of the guests. “Sorry, folks! But we will be hosting a private event for the remainder of the evening, and I’ll need to ask everyone to leave. Don’t worry about your tallies; they’ve been taken care of. Please be sure to come again.”
While the innkeeper politely assisted everyone else out of the tavern, apologizing for the inconvenience, the comrades patiently waited before they could feel at ease again. Meanwhile, Davion had finished his meal and was sucking the juices from his fingertips.
Taking a deep breath once they were alone, Laila lovingly grabbed hold of Nikolean’s hand. Now that they weren’t under scrutiny from the other guests anymore, he squeezed her hand affectionately while kissing the back of it and smiling warmly at her.
“Thank you, Sal.” The drow smirked at the elf. “I didn’t know we were friends.”
Sighing unamused in his glare at the dark elf, Salyaman responded, “Do not make more of it than it is. I was merely trying to keep you from being killed.”
Smiling more earnestly at him, Nikolean added, “Honestly, Sal, thank you.”
“Now that we have the room,” Salyaman said, getting their attention, “it might be an opportune moment to discuss what it is we are going to do next.”
“Well, we haven’t heard from the mages yet,” Davion noted, sitting back in his chair and crossing his arms over his chest.
Salyaman told them, “Whether they decide to join us or not, we must proceed with our course of action. Aeris will not wait, and we had said before that we must make haste in informing the nations we have already recruited that the time to gather is now.”
“You are right,” Laila solemnly acknowledged. “So, how do we do that?” The elf maiden looked around the table for suggestions.
“Well, m’lady,” Glondora chimed in. “If ye, Sal, and young Davion still needs ta approach the human and elfie leaders, shouldna’ ye all be worryin’ ‘bout that instead? Maybe Niko and meself can ‘andle the dwarves and drow whiles ye do. Our dragons be pretty fast; we could prolly meet back wit’ ye when ye ‘ead ta the elfie territory.”
Davion suddenly perked up upon hearing Glondora’s suggestion. He selfishly liked the idea of sending the drow away while they ventured to the human capital. Still, knowing how it would look coming from him, he cautiously held his words.
