Dante lit a fire outside of his adobe. Clan Master Dante lived closed off from the Hilltop villagers of the Elvish Red Forest Clan. His home was inset to the Hallow wall, deep in the shallows. Moonlight peered in through an opening in the cave ceiling. The night was peaceful, and birds sang from a nearby tulip sapling Dante planted a few days ago. He sat on a cold stone bench while cooking his evening meal. He usually ate alone near a warm fire but this time he was expecting company. He knew a warrior was coming. He was told a good man who would save them all was close. Dante heard footsteps. Eddipus was approaching.
"Warrior Eddipus. I heard you are coming to Clan Master Dante's. I has been waiting for you. I has known for some time, now."
"How did you know, Master Dante? Who could have told you?" Eddipus asked as he pulled up a small bolder and sat near Dante's fire.
"I Heard it. Yes. Through the winds, through the breeze, from the Master." He paused for a moment. "My master." he continued. "I has heard it from the Earth. Or I has heard it from one of these cuties."
He pointed to his sapling full of birds and chuckled. Eddipus scratched his head, confused. Dante had always been a little poetic in his speech. Not only was he poetic but he was also cryptic at times. It could bewilder half the village. Yet, such are the ways of a wise, half-crazed hermit Elve.
"Master, the birds talked? The breeze told you? I don't understand. Should I run to the magis?"
"Warrior Eddipus. Do you know nothing of sarcasm or wit? I has been using mystifying humor. I has your leg and pulled. Eddipus now has brought old Clan Master Dante something to study using his grand magic?"
"Yes, Master Dante. For my journey to save the Hallow's tree or a great war will befall the land as foretold."
Eddipus reached into his leather pack and pulled out the sage fruit. Dante seized the herb, bringing out a small, magnifying eyeglass.
"You will find, Eddipus that many things has foretold from elders. I has foretold stories as such too. Yes, tall tales a lot of them. Some of them true."
"All of mine are." A loud voice rang. Eddipus did not hear nor did he see the bright figure standing behind Dante. However, the grand master felt his presence and heard him clearly.
"Is it true? Will a war between our peoples and Man come to fruition if the tree isn't cured?"
"Yes, war will come. But where there's war there's sometimes hope, Warrior Eddipus. I has heard it that you're impassioned. Eddipus, you know it's against our highest of laws." Dante tisked "Shameful." He glanced past his eyeglass at Eddipus's Vidian pinned to his brown tunic.
"Master I.." He gasped but stopped midway as he looked back at Dante's slight smirk.
"Come now, Eddipus. I won't tell the silly villagers or those magi in their funny hats. I has known that ritual doesn't make it right. I has known some laws we should ignore."
The voice replied. A voice disembodied for the moment and if you looked at him you could become blind.
The voice didn't reach Dante's ears, but his heart.
"Some laws but mine."
It was the Master. A form of many forms. A master of many masters and the wisest of the wise. He could awaken mountains, calm seas, and make branches sway simply by walking quietly past. With just his breath, he could swing his terrifying fast fearsome sword.
Dante heard him and heard him well. He answered his call without resistance every time. He nodded sharply in agreement and sat the sage fruit down.
Clasping his warm soup, Dante sipped. Just a silent nod of appreciation to his Master. He was neither boastful nor haughty. He feared sliding down a slippery slope. If he felt that he was slipping, he'd turn to his mental repository to speak with the Master from time to time.
Timing... That was very important. Not Dante's timing or even the creation of time. Just timing and even Dante knew when to wait patiently. He took a moment to catch his breath and sat his soup down.
He looked at Eddipus, smiled, and knew that he was the true warrior. He and the priestess Hilda, they were the key. He knew that as the Master had told him.
The sound of the fire surrounded them and the one voice in his heart warmed Dante's spirit and spoke wisely.
***
Sister Lisa unlatched the door to her hut. She was the youngest and prettiest of the Elven Sisterhood. There was a bench and table inside. There were four old beds owned by her sister members. A hearth adorned the center of the shack. There was no way anyone could hide inside. The smell of baked bread, wild herbs, and wafts of apple sweets swirled about. The home was simple but still a home. Sister Lisa smiled as Hilda entered through the entrance and wrapped her arms around her. "Oh Hilda, It's wonderful to see you again. Where were you?" Hilda sat down, near the hearth.
"I was visiting the magic tree in the Hallows... It's dying. I hear if you talk to verdure, they hear you and it helps them to grow."
"I'll visit the great tree, Hilda. I'll go there tonight and give it some plant growth. I pray no war comes between us and Man. I understand the magic of the sage fruit. I may not be able to cure its sickness but I can prolong its death"
"Don't worry, Sister Lisa. Eddipus will save us all. The magic of the sage tree has turned a sickly pale'" Hilda paused for a moment while Sister Lisa fiddled with the cooking pot over the hearth. Lisa sliced potatoes into the stew. "The reason I'm here is that I promised Warrior Eddipus I'd watch over you."
"Oh, a high priestess looking over my home and the parish? It's an honor and a blessing." Sister Lisa replied, tapping a spoon over the boiling kettle.
"Don't worry, Lisa. If there's any trouble, I'll take care of it. I'll protect you and your family with what little magic I know."
"Thank you, Priestess Hilda of the High Groves. I appreciate that. Please let me know if you're hungry at all and I'll pour you some warm AlcornDeer stew."
She laughed. "No need to walk on ceremony. We're friends." A feeling in her gut told her otherwise but she wasn't sure.
"ENDUR SAMUEL." That voice rang again in Hilda's mind causing her to push down any thoughts of Lisa except that she was important and a friend.
Hilda shifted in her seat near the fire.
"...and I'm honored to be your friend."
***
The village was quiet except for a gathering of Elves and Man. Hilltop called for a convocation of Westerian's finest warriors, priestesses, and Wisemen. They needed to know about the magic sage fruit tree in the hollow. Sending the warrior Elve Eddipus wasn't enough. The center pavilion was of a pure, white pillar created from Elven salt. It had stood the test of time, weather, and war. It was the perfect place for a meeting of the minds. The stone lit up with magic energy, lighting the night with allurement. Jezzaul led the council, magi, and elders and stepped forward toward the stone. His face was solemn and saddened but wise and weathered.
"We're gathered here to discuss the magic of the sage fruit tree'"Jezzaul paused. He looked distant. He finally gathered his strength and continued. "The tree is dying. We sent out a warrior to meet with our Clan Master who resides in the sacred stronghold of our peoples."
"I'm sorry, headmaster. I'm not sure what a dying tree has to do with Cardamon." King Tullious Didymus stepped forward to the glowing stone, representing Man. Cardamon was the seat of Westerian civilization and Tullious was its ruler.
"It has everything to do with Cardamon. The tree is dying because of magic. The magic of the tree has been a symbol of peace between us for years. Don't you remember the Battle of Red over seven Millennia ago?"
"Yes. The fruit fell from the tree and children took them in a basket to the leaders of the battle tribe of our people. But magic? I'm doubtful." Tullious scoffed.
"The magic of the tree is the magic of the forest. Its magic of the forest that has kept the peace. It's more than some symbol you can tote."Jezzaul was stern.
"I'm sorry, Master Jezzaul'" Tullious spoke with sarcasm and disdain. "I'm not sure what magic you're talking about. I'm not a magician."
"I shan't debate religious beliefs or opinions. Most of all with a brood of vipers!" A loud, piercing explosion lit up the sky. The burst carried Jezzaul's voice in brilliant flames. It scattered back into the Heavens like stars twinkling in the night. The voice ensnared the Man. It was an insult but it was one they couldn't ignore.
Tullious backed away like an ugly, disciplined Mountain Cur. "I'll listen to what you have to say," Didymus offered. "For I'm sure you're now a conjurer. I've been in battle, a mere king of Westerian. I've never seen magic in action." He lied. Tullious had seen magic in its darkest form for it worked its way through him like a parasitic lifeform but how could he let anyone know, especially his son Prince Vinan.
"You haven't? The magic of the tree, the world around you? Life? Is that not proof? It is pure magic and not mine. There is a power greater than anyone has ever seen in this realm." Jezzaul snapped his fingers. He was also a hypocrite, for he hid his own secrets. Magicka secrets of a dark and illegal nature.
"The tomes, bring them!" He commanded. Two men ran and came back in a few moments' time with two cracked, dusty stone tablets. "These foretold a time by our ancients. A time where if the great tree in the Hollow dies, so does peace between Men and Elven." He harbored feelings of hatred for Westerian and wanted nothing but war. They had trespassed on their land long ago and it was nagging at his very being.
The council was silent. The elders, magi, and priestesses both Westerian and Elvenkind looked at the tomes. Jezzaul read aloud the ancient texts of the past.
They were fearful, sorrowful, and doubtful but determined.