Dawn of Dusk

Brancil had been put to death and buried he had done the deed himself, since Elves were such a law abiding race any Elf could have done its duty by killing Brancil yet he felt as King the responsibility was his to administer. Every minute Brancil had lived, Landif had felt threatened. Numerous other Elves were in protective custody for observation. He felt positive about what he had been required to do. He hadn’t enjoyed it, but he knew he had done the right thing. The Felkard in the womb of Belastar had been taken care of using a potion that one of the elder women knew. He had also made her write it down for him, and promise that she would share it with no one else.

He needed to leave to get to the funeral of Krakal, but he was loath to leave the forest. He had summoned Meadowin and he knew that he was waiting for him outside. He would bring Meadowin with him to the funeral. He believed that Meadowlea, (Vistyral) would need his help. He knew that things were happening very fast in Vistyral’s world, and, he didn’t know if Vistyral needed Meadowin or not, but he knew that Vistyral was or would be in a short time in grave danger. The role that he had been thrust into like it or not, was to be the counter-balance to his brother.

Landif didn’t believe that Vistyral knew or was able to recognize how dangerous his brother was. His Elven sense of decency screamed in protest when he considered sending a team of Elven assassins to kill Borrial. He was fairly sure that if he could do it, many lives would be spared. Surely, Vistyral did not know of Borrial’s Plotting with Maruusaal and his efforts to have Arborlea, Cryarlac, and Vermath invaded by Gnomes, Trolls, and Goblins. Maruusaal had proven alarmingly resourceful in his ability to put together an alliance. Maruusaal even had relations moving forward with the Gnomes and it appeared as if he somehow controlled the Gnome leader Kronilack.

Years ago, Landif’s father trying to avoid another war of the races, had asked parents with extremely gifted children, to send their children to him with the purpose of creating an intelligence network. These elves had been trained from the time they were eighty and ninety years old for life in the world of Men, Giants, Dwarves, Gnomes, Goblins, and Trolls.

Some of the most gifted magicians had used the elements to change those intelligent and knowledgeable Elves so they looked like the different races they were sent to spy on. They were given the responsibility of assimilating themselves into the society that they would live in for the next thirty or forty years. The charge that had been given to them was to rise to the highest rank in their respective government that they could, without actually becoming the leader. Landif’s father knew that if they reached the pinnacles of power, that their ambition could actually turn them against their own. Deep within them changes that were temporarily placed upon them by the magicians was an aversion to lead, and a desire to council and advise.

The talents they possessed and patience that they had shown, and hard work they had put in had begun to reap rewards for Landif. He had more information on any kingdom in the world than he wanted to know, except the Giants. They pretty well stayed to themselves and their shipping, Landif felt fairly secure that while he didn’t have someone advising the Giants’ Chief Captain, that he didn’t have much to worry about there either.

Landif was trying to decide how much of what he knew he should tell Meadowin. Telling him too much would betray the fact that the Elves had an intelligence network within the other kingdoms.

Elves don’t lie. They didn’t always tell the complete truth, but they never said things that were not true.

He couldn’t tell Meadowin, for example, that he had derived the information he was going to give to him for Vistyral, from some poor Goblin who had been rescued from the ravages of Drathmire Castle, because it wasn’t true.

He turned to Glade, “Please ask Meadowin to come in.”

Glade went to the door and invited Meadowin into the room. Meadowin entered slightly alarmed. Landif knew that the first few minutes of this encounter would determine how much information he would be able to impart to Meadowin.

“Meadowin, how kind of you to attend us.”

“It is an honor, Majesty, how may I help you. Anything that I can that will not conflict with my commitment to Vista- I mean Meadowlea, I will do.”

“Please sit down and relax, Meadowin, you have been very busy studying our arts of stealth. I hear that you are doing well. Already you are as good as some of our soldiers; you should be proud.”

“Thank you Majesty.”

“We have received some important information that not only affects the Elves, but the Dwarves, and Cryarlac, as well. High Councilor Glade will give you the information that we feel you should take to your duke. Please keep this information between the two of you.”

Glade shot Landif an annoyed look. He was hoping to be able to sit here in the meeting, and listen to the Kingling give away priority information to the representative of a foreign government. Landif had been too smart for that, he was going to get Glade to do the dirty work for him. Maybe he had underestimated the king’s abilities. As it was he would be the person giving away the information. He would be doing it with the king’s consent, of course, but he couldn’t criticize Landif for giving the information away later, could he?

He turned to Meadowin. “The information we have is not yet confirmed, but it appears that the Goblin King, Maruusaal, has entered into a plot with one of the governments of Men, that will result in an invasion of Cryarlac, Arborlea, and Vermath by races from the north. Our information is incomplete, at the present, but it appears to be a plot to keep the armies of the Elves, the Dwarves, and the Guardian of the East, occupied while the government of Men involved in this complicity makes moves elsewhere.”

Meadowin sat motionless. It appeared that he had not even heard what Glade had to say. Silence stretched the minutes until Landif opened his mouth to speak. As he did, Meadowin began to ask a question.

“When will Borrial succeed his father?”

Glade sighed and turned back to Meadowin. From what we can determine, he will succeed his father in one hundred-twenty days, more or less.”

“Then he is not wasting any time moving to take Fulsimter, is he?”

“No, we expect it will be under his control within one hundred-eighty days of his coronation,” Glade said.

Glade looked as though he wanted to swallow his tongue. He turned to Landif and said, “I’m sorry Majesty, you did not authorize me to divulge that information.”

Landif said nothing. He kept his eyes on Meadowin, who allowed himself a long slow smile.

“You didn’t tell me anything except time, I told you, Glade. You confirmed what Vistyral, I mean Meadowlea, already suspected. You just confirmed it. Meadowlea assumed that Borrial would move to Fulsimter before Lemmal could consolidate his power base. He assumed that our armies would be sent away under the guise of joint military maneuvers between the Elves, Dwarves and the Army of the East, probably near the Mangoso Divide.”

Landif smiled and stood up. “Your prince is a smart man,” he said as he reached into his pocket. “He’ll make a fine king someday.”

He held out Meadowin’s ring. The existence of his ring in Arborlea meant Vistyral was engaged to Mirtar.

“Would you like to accompany me to Fulsimter? I think it possible that he may need you. Vistyral has provoked Borrial rather abruptly. Remember what you have learned about stealth, it may save the both of you. Remember, there is more to stealth than moving quietly among the trees. We will travel at dawn, please be ready.”

“Thank-you for sharing this information with me; it will be shared with the duke-prince as soon as I am able.”

“Fine we will excuse you, I am sure that you have some preparations to make for our journey.”

They all stood and Meadowin left the room.

“You handled that well, Glade. You gave him the information that we agree he should have in a way that left him believing that all information came from Vistyral. A nice touch, now all we have to do is to get to Vistyral first and let him think that the information came from one of our people in Valedif’s guard got the information from Karron.”

“Take care that you tell nothing that is not true, King Landif. Kings have lost their throne trying to do what is best for their people. It would be a shame to lose a kingling showing as much promise as you do.”

Landif reddened with anger for the first time in Glades recollection and said, “That is enough Glade! You step over the boundary of courtesy with your comments of my age and inexperience. Your comments will no longer be ignored nor will they be tolerated! If you cannot treat your king with respect, then I will find someone qualified to sit on the council that can.

I have made you the most senior member of the council. I did not do that because you were the most qualified, or because you are superior in any way to the other members of the council. I put you where you are because you oppose me in almost everything that I do. You view things differently than I do. I want to be able to see all sides of an issue and correct a mistake before I make it. I expect you to continue to voice your concerns and objections to me. That trait is what I value in you; however, you will voice all your concerns with respect and with conviction.

I’ll hear no more comments from you like, ‘If my kingling commands.’ If I command, you will accept it in the same manner that you would from my father if he were here. You may be two hundred-fifty years older than me, but that doesn’t make me incompetent.” Landif stopped and let his anger wash over Glade in silence.

Glade bowed his head as shame colored his face. “Truly you have spoken well, My King. It is my own jealousies that had caused such petty behavior. You have proven yourself completely capable. When I was your age I could not have taken on such responsibilities for any reward.

You are competent yet confident as well. You became king at a very difficult time in Elven history. You have had to make decisions that an Elf hundreds of years older would abhor making. You have not shirked or shunned your responsibility, but you have delegated responsibility when it is prudent to do so, like a few minutes ago when you gave me the responsibility of informing Meadowin so I could not criticize you if things went wrong.

You really are doing a wonderful job as king. The problem that I have is mine. I have been involved in Elven Government for over two hundred years and I feel, well, inferior. My comments and my behavior have been reprehensible. Please forgive me.”

“It is in the past, Glade. We will not discuss it further. One of the reasons that I value your opinion so highly is that you really do care, and you are able to admit it when you are wrong; many Elves aren’t able to do that, you know.

“I am leaving the local matters in your hands while I am away. Any matter that you desire to discuss with me can be done with magic since Hedgemon will be going with me. I will be home in one week at the most.”

“Very well King Landif, I will handle matters while you are away. By your leave?”

“Of course, Glade,”

Glade strode from the room and Landif watched the door for a few moments after Glade had gone. He hoped this would put the petty problems between them in the past. He wanted Glades experience and wisdom. He also knew that Glade would only tell him exactly what he thought. It is said among the Elves that the first thing to go with old age is tact. Glade must have lost his at puberty. At least now he knew where he stood with Glade and where Glade stood with him.

He turned and went through a small hallway into his living quarters. As he did, he smelled, or maybe felt the presence of magic; malevolent magic. He turned and ran from the room, as he did; a fireball erupted in his living chamber. He made it into the council chamber and tried to slam the door. The door from the council room had almost closed as the fire rushed down the hallway, and only a small amount of fire came through. The wood was scorched and charred around the door, but the door held.

His next thought was for the safety of the Mothertree. He ran to the wall and placed his hands on the wood. He sought contact with the life force known to the Elves as the Mothertree. There was nothing! For a minute, Landif thought that the Life that housed and protected the Elves, the very heart of Elven culture had been destroyed. Then he heard her screaming at him.

“How could you let this happen to me? After all the years that I have protected sheltered and comforted you and your ancestors. Is this what you do to repay my love?”

Landif felt the heat of the fire coming from his room. He felt the same pain that the Mothertree did. Elven rulers had always communicated with the Mothertree. Before an heir was officially named, the potential heir had to communicate with the Mothertree. Most Elves didn’t realize that the tree could talk to them. Communicating with a tree was done by communicating feelings not with words. The feelings left an Elf with words in their mind. It also left the sensations of being a tree and what a tree felt. Now Landif felt pain, burning pain. He wanted to break the connection but he wouldn’t.

“This is not of Elven origin,” he said to the Mothertree, “surely the magic that did this was from some other source.”

“Not true!” the tree screamed. I have had Elven Magic within me for over twelve millennia. That was Elven Magic.”

The tree showed him what happened in the room and he realized that the tree was right. The spell that had been used to try and kill him was definitely Elven in origin. The thought that an Elf would do anything that might hurt Mothertree was totally foreign to Landif.

He sent his thoughts back to the Mothertree. “I will find whoever did this. They and all of their family will be cast out. They will no longer be part of the Motherlife. If I do not do this thing, I will banish myself from the Motherlife and give up all that I live for.”

“I accept your pledge,” the Mothertree said. “The fire is out; you may go and inspect the damage.”

Landif broke the connection with the Mothertree. The Mothertree was the only life remaining on Earth that had lived through the cataclysm that caused all humankind to develop from Man. For a long time the Mothertree had not trusted the Elves because they evolved from Man. When the Elves finally convinced the Mothertree that she could trust them, she helped the Elves become a truly civilized people. They knew how to have fun and enjoy themselves yet they were very concerned for the environment and especially the trees. It had been said of the offspring of the Mothertree, that they could communicate also. Landif knew this to be true because he had once talked to a tree that called itself the Brothertree.

He cast a quick spell of summoning to Hedgemon, his court sorcerer and told him to get there right away. He knew the sooner the room could be searched with magic, the more likely he would find clues to tell him who was responsible.

Hedgemon came running as fast as his long, thin legs would carry him. He was thin, even for an Elf, but he was healthy. He had spoken against the Drachlomancers for about the last seventy years. He felt Elven magic should be used to help humanity not destroy it. He had made it his mission in life to find every possible way he could to improve life with magic.

Hedgemon had become the court sorcerer because he had the foresight to condemn the Drachlomancers long before the Felkarditis had reappeared. In addition to his ability to see the Elves were heading the wrong direction, he was a gifted magician in his own right. He was eloquent and well educated in all aspects of Elven court protocol.

Five years before Landif’s father died, Hedgemon had debated the entire Drachlomancer council. He had confounded the lot of them. Landif remembered Hedgemon and decided that day that when he became king, Hedgemon would be there with him as court sorcerer. Since that time Landif had become equally impressed with his wit, intelligence, and his magical skills.

One area where Hedgemon was lacking was grace. He always looked like he was about to fall. He did not share in any of the lithe elegance that most of the Elves enjoyed. Because he always looked like he was falling down, most of the female Elves did not consider him handsome.

“Hedgemon, someone just left a killing spell for me, in my bedroom. The Mothertree was hurt, but not seriously. I would like you to try and trace the magic back to see who did the damage. This attack on the Mothertree cannot go unpunished.”

“We cannot allow the attempt to take the life of the Elven King either.”

He closed his eyes and felt for magic. It was there weak but palpable; someone had tried to hide it but they had not been completely successful. He held onto his contact with the magic and sent a contact to the Mothertree that was in the room. Most of the wood that had housed Landif was now blackened charcoal. There was one area that had been protected from the blast, it was found behind the open door and had not been burned from the blast because the door had taken the punishment. The door opened inward and Landif had opened the door all the way by pure chance. If that part of the tree saw the person who laid the magical trap, the tree would be able to show them who it was.

Sentient trees can see. They see through every part of their tree. The leaves, the bark the wood can all see in a tree’s fashion the problem was, their different brain couldn’t sort through all of that information. The Elves had learned to help the tree know what part of the tree was able to see a certain event. The amount of fire in the trap was meant to destroy those parts of the tree that would have seen the perpetrator of the crime.

Landif helped Hedgemon contact and calm the tree. When she found out that she may have seen the person that enacted the act of terrorism against the king and her. Hedgemon brought the magic back to the part of the tree that was behind the door when it opened. All he would be able to do when he examined the magic was to look for characteristics that would identify a certain magician but more importantly exactly when the spell was cast. Once they had the time of day, they could tell the tree and the tree could recall what the wood behind the door saw when the spell was set. The tree could then project the memory into the mind of the Elves.

The time was determined, and the tree was shown the time. After a few seconds, the tree showed a playback of the events as they were seen by the wood behind the door. At first all they could see was the door; then a hand grabbed the door and pushed it closed. The person, who had closed the door, had already turned his back on that part of the tree by the time the door uncovered that part of the tree. They continued to watch the person cast the spell. Finally he turned to go. Landif heard Hedgemon gasp and caught one in his own throat as well.

He had watched Brancil die, yet here he was, alive and casting killing spells on the floor walls and ceiling. This was done well after Landif had watched Brancil die. Someone had broken the most sacred law of Elven magic. Someone had used necromancy to bring the body of Brancil back to life.

When a living thing is re-animated through necromancy, it is not really alive. It moves, and does what it would do if it was alive, but it does not live. The flesh continues to decay as it would in the tomb. Brancil was already looking fairly gruesome.

“Landif shook his head, “No this cannot be; this is impossible! I killed him myself!”

“No my king, what you see is real, someone brought Brancil back to life. We can find out who, but it will take some time.”

“Do it, I want to know as soon as possible. Oh, and you will have to delegate someone to take this over for you. We leave tonight, and I need you with me.

“I have a promising young sorceress who will do as good a job, maybe better.”

“What is her name?”

“Flora, Majesty.”

“Make sure that she keeps word of this to herself.”

“She will do fine, Majesty.”

Landif again made his apologies to the tree and explained the irrationality of Brancil. The tree was shocked to know that Elves could become more like Men if they worked at it. Landif sensed that he had done more harm than good, and explained Felkarditis.

The tree understood and told him about a rose bush that thought it should be a tree. It tried to grow tall and leafy, but every time it started getting as tall as the trees, one of the Men came along and cut it back almost to the ground. The bush grew larger thorns to keep the men from cutting it and they finally grew so thick and sharp that the Men couldn’t cut it back anymore.

Because it had used all its strength to grow thorns, its flowers were fewer, less beautiful, and less fragrant. Soon the bees and butterflies no longer came to collect the nectar and pollen. It grew tall and soon was almost as big as some of the smaller trees.

One day the Men who tended the garden came by and dug up the rose bush and burned it, because it did not fulfill the purpose that the men had placed it in the garden.

“The Gods of Karron,” the tree said, “Are like the men who tend the garden. If we do not do our part as they prescribe, we may find that they will do away with us and find some other creature that will do that which they expected us to do.”

“I understand,” Landif agreed, “We are trying.”