Beating Wings & Evil Things

The two Magi traveled cold and silent through the dark Nothern tundra, beyond the reaches of Thanious and the southern badlands. Not a word was spoken and their flesh ached of weather bite, rendered identical. White with frost. This new path led further north, further than Renzel had ever ventured. Passed Cycsteria, instead of east into the Forest of Sorrow. Where Alverna was sure to head when light broke over the city. The cobblestone road turned to snow quickly. The Magi had travelled a vast distance in a few short hours. Using the Abyssal plain as so many Magi do, to push their being passed mortal speed for a short while. No tracks were visible beyond the disrepaired cobblestone path. The road had not been travelled for some time. As morning loomed over the white, a spruce forest came into view on the horizon.

"There, that's where we are heading. The Cradle of Elders."

The Magi crunched through the icy layered snow, walking side by side across the plain of white in front of them.

"These forests are surrounded by the great lake of Crimone. During the slightly warmer seasons, these waters and the creatures inside them hinder any trespassers who seek entry to the forest. And no mortal man can survive these winters. So the Forest is protected perfectly."

Renzel furrowed a brow and looked around him. Just then realizing that the white plane they were walking on was enormous.

"This is lake Crimone? Named after the king of Highroth and the northern lands, Titus Crimone?"

Teller nodded and pointed his staff toward the mountain range far to his left.

"Over those peaks lie the kingdom of Highroth. We are approaching from a route that has been sealed for two hundred years."

"Then those must be Crook Spire mountains, part of the Elder range."

The Magi entered the forest of spruce and Renzel immediately felt the uneasiness in the air.

"There's a strong magic in these trees Teller. An old force, we are not welcome."

"This is true, let's keep haste. Follow me. There are two things we must attend to."

The branches creaked and the leaves stirred as Teller led Renzel deeper into the forest. The air grew thick and warm. Humid, as if they were in the southern badlands again. Stumbling over river stones and jumping creaks, the men made their descent deeper and deeper into a forest valley. When they finally came upon a hemlock. Hidden deep within. The grandfather trees stood high and daunting above them. As if warning them of no further passage. But the Magi continued. The forest grew silent as their pace slowed. The largest Elder tree came into view. It was a massive spruce. A trunk so wide that a battalion couldn't lock arms around it.

"This is the Elder and the valley is her cradle. From her branches all pure blood Magi are granted their birthright weapon. Their staff."

Renzel frowned at that.

"I am only a half blood. I could not select a staff."

Teller mused, "Master Mock. The Elder tree called to me while we camped before Cycsteria. It has chosen to give you aid."

The tree creaked and roots began to move on the surface. Pushing ferns and debri aside. Creating a path to Renzel's feet.

Teller leaned on his staff and tapped it on the side with a smile.

"It is time, walk forward and touch the Elder. She will choose the staff to award you."

Renzel swallowed and steadied himself. Slowly approaching the elder. The air grew electric and lifted the hair on his arms and neck. The mage put his hands out and touched his palms to the trunk. A gust of wind hit him from his back and then shifted to attack from the front. The trees wailed for relief. His cloak flung around his waist and threatened to be torn to shreds. His vision began to shift. A purple mist swept around him as the wind roared. And then from the depths of his being. That thing that had saved him in the forests outside Thanious. Wailed.

'No! He is mine! I am not his! I want to live!' 

A blue light was pulled from him and sunk into the tree. With a blast Renzel went flying back into Teller and both fractured, tumbling to the ground. When the wind had stopped. All drew silent. And then the tree began to move. The bark splintered and cracked open like the door to a wardrobe.

There, set in the wood of the elder tree that had been stripped clean of bark. Sat a Staff. Set with a purple and black gem.  It was long and sleek. White wood from the base to the crest. An encantation inscribed in Elven through the perfectly carved handle.

Renzel stood and approached, pulling the staff free of the elder with a soft tug. He examined the inscription.

"Lashich Malai Frinia Tol, what does this mean?"

Teller nodded and stepped forward. "The staff of many souls."

Renzil cocked an eyebrow.

"The gems inlaid into a staff are filled with the spirit that's offered to the elder during the ritual. Mine is the spirit of a fate weaver from the Orc Dominion. When you survived the spriggins, I felt a massive presence. It wasnt until the Elder tree called out to me that my suspicions were confirmed."

Renzel looked at the gem, it's power surging through the staff and into his own hand.

"What suspicion was confirmed?"

Teller leaned in close to the gem and gazed deeply.

"Master mock, the soul that the tree had taken out of you. That is in this gem right now."

Renzel leaned in closer. "Yes?"

"What you have here Master Mock, is the essence of the only known Hollow left in the realm."

"A soul eater?! How is that possible?!"

Teller mused, "during the war they were hunted down by the strongest Magi and harvested for their huge mana sparks. This one must have attached itself to you when you were a child. Feeding on the smallest amounts of mana that it could scavenge. Remaining hidden to survive."

"Okay I understand.."

Renzel's fatigue sent him into a short dizzying spell.

"You said we had two goals to accomplish in this forest, what may I ask is the other. I would like to rest soon."

"Ah, soon you will. For the second goal is simple and doesnt require anything. I have a friend who I've hidden here for the last century. Who just like your Hollow was sought after."

Teller whistled and a thunderous wind crashed against them from above. As a large winged creature slowly descended from the canopy.

"Is that a G-"

"Yes it is, Aldrige. Say hello to Master Mock."

Silver, from one end to the other. The Griffin's feathers looked as though they were cast of Elven steel. Yet they were softer than any down pillow Renzel had felt in his life. He had to fight to remain upright and awake as they flew up higher and higher above the  Crook spire mountains. Into the misty gray clouds and beyond them. Into a world of blue sky and hidden sunlight. When they breached into the blue above the Tundra all hung in the balance, silent and soft. It made Renzel think of Alverna. But only for a moment. As they soon descended to an even greater sight. The city of Highroth, with enormous granite walls and thousands of guards running formation. Wearing Highroth's banner on every embroidery. The Golem Bear of the north. Savage and fierce. Renzel had been here before. Where he was contracted by the order to kill two Magi that intercepted political letters. However he didn't stay long enough to take in the magnitude of the kingdom.

Teller landed the griffin at the front gate and they unmounted. He whispered Elven to the griffin, who chirped in return and nuzzled his shoulder. Before galloping off toward the  stables.

"Think they'll take care of him?"

Teller nodded, " I'm sure of it. Highroth was a haven for griffin during the war. Let's find some food to fill our bellys and ale to warm them shall we? We have had enough adventure for one day I believe."

Renzel admired his staff, He knew his powers had already increased three-fold after surviving the drain of his Mana Spark. But with the staff to amplify him? The Ivory dagger doubled his ability. It was ceremonial and enchanted. It's a Shadow assassin's awarded weapon for valor in the field. But this was new.. Powerful.

As they approached the Highroth inn, Teller stopped them. He looked around, the road seemed absolutely silent. Leaning in to Renzel's range he whispered.

"The less knots a staff bares. The stronger it is. The straighter the bridge. The more ample it's use. The brighter the furnish? The truer the user.. The only staff I have ever seen the Elder award that was straighter and brighter colored than yours was Ferin's himself. you are a very blessed mage Master Mock. And you are not bound by the rules of an order any longer. You are allowed to break the seals that bind you to a power cap. Maybe you will become the stuff of legends.. One day."

Renzel gripped his staff and silenced Teller with his glare, speaking to him in his mind.

'I'm not the stuff of legends today Master Teller. We need to get inside. The silence in this street is.. Uneasy. Something isn't right.'

Teller glanced over Renzel's right shoulder and saw movement on the Book store's rooftop across the street.

'You are correct, let's head in. We must speak with the King when the roads are busier and we are not so open.'

As they entered, Renzel turned quickly back and slammed his hand against the door. Hissing the words. 'Strola Corinia'. A surge of power blasted from his palm and through the logged walls. Building a ward against mana itself.

"Now we shall be the only Magi in here for certain."

Teller spun Renzel around to face the interior of the lobby, Renzel's eyes widened.

"Yes Master Mock just us Magi. You me and Calprey."

Calprey stood in the center of the lobby with his hands behind his back. An abyssal familiar at his side, growling and chomping, its purple misty essense wisping around. Maintaining a form that resembled a canine.

Renzel steadied himself and prepared for a blood match. Teller stood wearily, examining the old Reaver. Who looked even older with the open wound across his face that Renzel had given him before he vanished.

Teller held out two fingers and willed a chair to him. Where he sat down with a heavy sigh and pulled out his stag horn pipe.

Renzel stood frozen. Battle ready. Beligerent, on the presibus of a shift to Abyssal form. But before Calprey or Renzel could take the offensive. Teller cleared his throat.

"Master mock has cast a barrier that destroys magical beings once they attempt entry or exit. If you were to subdue or slay Master Mock. I'm afraid-"

He took a long deep drag of crowsweed and poured himself a drink from a tankard of ale sitting at a nearby table.

"I'm afraid you would die in here. Unable to leave due to his ward of course."

Calprey sneered, "shut it, you inferior white lighter. I'm not here to kill Renzel Mock."

Renzel looked surprised. "Then why are you here Calprey? So far from your master's chains."

The Reaver stepped forward and held out a piece of parchment. Which read The Isle of Bones.

Renzel's heart sank.

'The Isle of bones, the order of death.'

"The fact is I'm not here, or rather there. My master is using his spark to allow me passage through the Abyss to deliver this message."

Teller grinned. "Fascinating, he's astral projecting. A strong spark is definitely aiding him."

Calprey sneered. "Don't worry, I will find you soon."

With a plume of smoke the familiar and Calprey vanished. Leaving only the parchment on the ground. Renzel retrieved the letter and opened it, his eyes bulged and his face grew red with rage. Teller stood and leaned in to inspect what he saw.

'By order of the Shadow Council, the heirs of Thanious and the surviving Gurvon Mock. You are here-by labeled a traitor to the order. All holds and persons who aid in your shelter and escape will be considered as dangerous and be executed on sight.

             The Isle of Bones'

Renzel dropped the letter and stumbled back. Catching himself in Teller's unoccupied chair.

'Gurvon was alive? No, that's impossible. I fed off of his spark. How?!'

Teller sighed and pulled up another chair.

"It looks as if they've fooled you my friend. Let us drown the night in ale. This order will not stand in Highroth. Titus does not cooperate with Black Magi orders."

Renzel hung his head and took the ale that Teller offered. New questions on his mind.