Percival raised his sword in response, and awaited the Captain's attack. The captain smiled and mocked, "Do you take me for a fool, that I would fight you with swords? Your family killed fifteen guards each, with sword, including my son, who your Uncle bashed his head open on the stone floor. I will have your family's blood for his."
Gwathnasehí pressed his hand on the ground, and shouted, "élëanar!" As he did, a beam of sunlight shot out of his hand, and struck Percival in the chest, sending him flying across the room, into a pillar toward the back wall.
A hole now burned in his white shirt, as Percival rolled out of the way of another fireball, cast by one of the Captain's companion's, while Faramaurea continued sitting on the ground, Charirflathesek She was not weeping, simply holding his corpse in shock, as one of Gwathnasehí's companion's, Burston began to march toward her.
"No! Narondo!" He exclaimed, launching a fire ball at Burston, striking him in the side of the face, and knocking him to the ground. "Faramaurea! Run!" He commanded, while Burston writhed on the ground in agony, and the other two advanced on him.
But Faramaurea didn't hear him, in her state of shock, so he focused his attention on the two who were advancing. Percival began to mutter a spell under his breath, and his hands burst into balls of blue and green flame, as he raised his hands into a defensive position.
Gwathnasehí attacked, casting a fire ball, but it didn't impact Percival, because Percival caught it in his now flaming hand, and with a wind up spin, threw it at Burston, silencing his shrieking forever. Returning to his defensive position, Percival cracked a gleeful smirk, when the two looked past them in shock, at Burston's now burned, still corpse. Suddenly thinking of his sister, he stole a glance at her, and noticed that she was meditating while holding the Mayor's corpse. Turning back, Percival reflexively dodged a fire ball, and cast one in return that was just as easily dodged.
Quardo grew tired of waiting and charged directly at Percival. Percival in turn gripped him by the throat, and cast "Narrond!" When the fire dome appeared, the colours matching the flames of his hand, he threw Quardo through it, his charred corpse all that appeared on the other side.
Gwathnasehí saw this, and for the first time in his life, began to panic. "Guards! They've killed the Mayor!" The guards burst in the door, and having heard the Captain's words, began to fire on the two siblings with crossbows, but both missed due to the blinding blue and green light of Percival's fire dome. Realizing that they did not have time to reload, they dropped the weapons, and drew their swords, while Percival lowered his firedome.
"Hold! We did not kill the mayor!" Percival shouted, but his words fell on deaf ears, as the guards charged, and he was forced to fend them off. Rapiers were not his weapon of choice, so dueling with one would be difficult for him.
As the three swordsmen dueled, Gwathnasehí ran for the door, but was stopped by Faramaurea.
Faramaurea was a terrifying sight to behold, her white dress stained red, and dripping with the blood of the slain mayor. Her eyes had rolled back, and her hair was slick with sweat, from her focused meditation on a spell. Her hands were held out to her sides, her palms facing away from her now faintly glowing form.
"I am afraid, Sir Gwathnasehí, that your death, is here." Her voice reverberated throughout the building, but for a moment nothing happened.
"You can not stop me, little girl!" Captain Gwathnasehí whipped out a dagger, and brought it arching down toward her head.
Percival saw this, and lost focus on his duel, for just a second, but it was enough time for him to be disarmed. He was forced to his knees, seconds before a knowing smile appeared on Faramaurea's visage.
At that moment, a massive surge of vines, branches, and small animals dove through the windows. Five vines to each person, grabbed the guards, and Gwathnasehí. As the vines wrapped around Gwathnasehí, his eyes widened with panic, and he begged "Please? No!"
Faramaurea raised her fist, and smiled deviously, before splaying open her fingers. Crimson splattered on her now red and white dress, and her face, as the vines pulled with a intense amount of force, ripping him limb from limb, and removing his head from his shoulders.
Percival looked on, party in horror, and partly in satisfaction, while standing up. He glanced at the guards, who were currently not dismembered, but were being held aloft by vines around their necks, and limbs. Then he returned his gaze to Faramaurea, and gestured for her to put the two guards down.
Faramaurea dropped them unceremoniously, and they clattered into the ground. He picked up their rapiers, and threw them out the window, before kneeling in front of them. He said nothing, just stared into the very essence of their being, until he reached a conclusion on what to do with them.
Drawing his rapier, he walked up to the first man, and without delay, stuck him on top of the head, with the hilt of his rapier. The guard collapsed unconscious, and the other guard stood. He raised his hands, and requested of Percival: "Let me die standing."
As Percival considered his request, Faramaurea's eyes had cleared but she was still covered in blood, and looked rather intimidating. "What is your name, sir?"
"My name is Ixdrianod." The dragonborn answered, lowering his hands down by his side.
"I did not kill your friend, he is merely unconscious. Why would you have me kill you?" Percival, asked perplexed, but not unwilling. His blood still pulsed through his body in a battle rage, all while his heart beat with a rhythm faster than the clopping hooves of a galloping horse.
The guard stiffened slightly. "When the King of Meneltarma comes through, he will interrogate those in the city who were aware of you, and their families. If I am dead, I can only hope that they will not go after my family. If I am dead. " He sighed, "Do it!"
Percival hefted his rapier, and thrust it through the Man's heart, at which point he immediately collapsed. Faramaurea sighed, and quietly spoke. "There is no hope left, for the worlds of elves and men. We live in a world, where people are forced to choose between the death of their family, or themselves. I do not want to live in this world anymore."
Percival ran over, taking both of Faramaurea hands in his, and halsed, "Never, say that again, Faramaurea. I will keep you safe, if I can. I have our next destination in mind. Do you remember where our mother lived, Orónënya?"
Faramaurea nodded, and said, "Our mother was the queen of Meneltarma, and The ruler of Elorean. Since we clearly can not go back to Meneltarma, I suspect that you are referring to Elorean."
Percival affirmed her deduction, and replied, "Our mother's people will welcome us, as if we were their own blood. That is the destination I next envision for us."
"But Gygax's forces will have checked there first, Percival. Le Elorean is unsafe, for that reason."
Percival smiled confidently. "Therefore, because they already checked the region, it will be some time, until they check it again. We will have peace, Faramaurea, at least for a while. Do you agree, Orónënya?"
Faramaurea nodded gleefully, and as they started back towards The Obsidian Hall, they discussed the dream Percival had promised to tell her about.
. . .
When the bodies were found the next day, The siblings had already packed their things, and had left their life in Drakoria behind them, as they began their journey up north, to Elorean.
As they got closer, despite having to avoid Meneltarma, Percival noticed that Faramaurea seemed to be happily taking in every detail of their surroundings, occasionally with her eyes closed. He smiled and teased, "I see you have found peace in these woods, Faramaurea. Did I not tell you that you would?"
Up until this point in the journey, Faramaurea had been quiet; the memories that Percival's dream had caused to resurface, were causing her fear, pain, and sadness. She was becoming more relaxed as she entered the woods near their old homeland, from its familiarity, and her magical affiliation to nature, although she was technically not a druid yet, much to her chagrine.
She smiled at Percival's comment, as he helped her dismount. "Nature is beautiful to me, toronnya, as it was to my mother before me. In it I will always find peace, whether or not there is peace to be found." She looked around at their supplies, and came to the conclusion, that the one faggot of wood they had with them, would not be enough to keep a fire going all night. "I am going to go gather some more firewood, if I have your leave."
She stood up to go, but Percival grabbed her gently but firmly by the arm. "There will be no fire tonight, Faramaurea. We are too close to Gygax, to risk sending a smoke signal up." He glanced at the darkening evening sky, the sunset shimmering with hues of red, yellow, orange, and blue, looking like a fire, despite the chill that was already settling in. He tossed her his thick cotton blanket, and concluded, "Get some rest, Faramaurea. I will take watch tonight." He wrapped himself in his cloak, and walked off towards a nearby tree.
Faramaurea held his blanket for a moment, and considered arguing that he needed rest too, but then a breeze blew through, and she wrapped herself in their blankets, to keep warm from the cold. Although it was chilly, she was tired from the day's ride, and swiftly sank into a restless sleep, and a dream...
It took Faramaurea a moment to realize where she was, but she quickly recognised the area as Gygax's room. She had only seen it once, but their were some memories that would never fade. She was beginning to panic, but when she saw Gygax, her body went into a full blown panic, but she could not move, and she realized her mind was showing her what had happened while she was unconscious.
NEXT R RATED SCENE
Gygax began to undress removing first his shirt, and then his trousers, before mounting her unconscious form, and taking her purity from her. He would whisper phrases into her ear, but all that she remembered was his last phrase. The last thing he said to her, as his seed flowed into her. "You are mine..." He muttered, in a vocal tone that seemed almost comforting, despite the situation.
END R RATED SCENE
The image faded into blackness, but at the far end there was a tunnel, with her father at the end. She began to sprint towards, but was slowed down by the liquid she was standing in. Her father kept gesturing to her, but as she recognized the viscous nature of the substance she was standing in. Gygax stepped out of a imperceptible door, in the tunnel, with a torch that illuminated the tunnel around them. She looked down, realising that she was waist deep in blood, and barely held back a scream. Looking around, she noted the bodies of her aunts, and uncle's, and on the wall, saw her Grandparents in shackles. Gygax set the torch on a nearby sconce, and pulled out a longbow, on which he put an arrow, and set against the string.
Then he quickly drew it back, and fired it into Herievamornie's throat. She died slowly and graphically, gurgling on her own blood, and Gygax waited, watching her die with a sickening Glee, as he readied another arrow. Herulepilin wept openly, calling Gygax a "cruel, heartless bastard, with no hope of raising a family, that would love him."
Gygax frowned, and looked at Herulepilin. "My family, exists to carry on my line. They are nothing more to me. I do not care if they 'love me,' with all their hearts. And speaking of hearts..." He responded, firing the bow into Herulepilin's heart. "Hearts are a weakness."
Faramaurea screamed. There was no words, and no rhythm, just an ear-spliting shriek. Gygax smiled maliciously, and hopped into the pool of blood, before walking towards her. He spoke, but it was not his voice that spoke, when he did, but Percival's. "Wake up, Faramaurea. Our foes are upon you."
She was thrust back from the image with Gygax, spinning away in a blur of color, still shrieking, as her dream world faded to black...
She shot upright, her brother nearby looking at her in concern, and he asked her, "What did you dream, Orónënya? What message did the Gods send you?" He waited patiently for an answer, while Faramaurea caught her breath.
"I dreamed of darkness, and terror, Percival. I dreamed of the events in Meneltarma, and of the False King, killing our entire family, and causing me to swim in their blood. Do you think any of them survived?" There was hope in her eyes, but it was made faint by her terror, and what she had just witnessed.
Percival saw all of this in a single glance, and though he was loathe to destroy this hope, he was determined to tell her the truth. "No," he sighed. "I do not think any of them survived, Faramaurea. Why would Gygax take the risk? He may be our advesary, but he is one of the most intelligent men, I have ever met. He killed all of them, for the same reason he wants us all dead. If the Line Of Estelondo is exterminated, there is no one to challenge his rule." He paused ending that thought, and focused on the dream. "For some reason, The Gods want us to remember what happened in Meneltarma, but they keep changing it. I wonder why?"
"To cause us pain." Faramaurea spit out, having lost her faith in the world.
"No, Faramaurea," Percival corrected her. "the Gods are not cruel. They are chaotic at times, I will grant you, but they are not cruel. Everything they do, has a purpose, of which we are currently unaware. It is not for us, to know the will of the Gods. I think that this dream is yours to make sense of, Orónënya." With that, he walked away, to resume his watch, up in the trees nearby.
Faramaurea lay there for a moment, considering her dream, while at the same time, wishing she could forget it. Eventually, she grew drowsy, and passed once again, into a now restless sleep.
. . .
From his high vantage point, Percival considered everything Faramaurea had told him, especially in concordance with time frames. It can not be a coincidence that she begins to have nightmares, the night after I tell her mine. This could be a meaningless dream, and it could be naught but my dream causing her night terrors.
Percival frowned, and waited in the tree, facing East toward the rising sun, acknowledging that he was less than 10,000 units away, from Meneltarma, and his home. Percival climbed down the tree, after allowing Faramaurea a few more hours of sleep, and began to pack up camp.
An hour later, their camp packed, and they, themselves mounted on their horses, they began to ride north, in a slightly westward arc. By sundown on the next day, they had reached the outskirts of woods of Elorean. In the woods, they could see mushrooms that glowed at night, and tall trees, with large plumes of green vines and leaves, that made them resemble giant green mushrooms themselves.
Percival dismounted, and extended his arms out to the side, and feeling the magic in front of him. "It has been said, that the magic is so strong here, even nonmagic-users can sense its power, but this is power beyond comprehension."
Faramaurea nodded. "Nature has the power of the Goddess Yavanna, and she shares it freely, with all of the olvar and laman within it. Nature is an unstoppable Force, which we can manipulate and direct, but it will always flow, never stopping, never ceasing. It is our closest tie to the Weave, and therefore the most usable source of magic."
Percival drew in its power in awe, feeling the magic enter his being, as though he had just come up from under water, for a breath of fresh air. While wandering The Land of Quendië ar Aponar, Percival had not been deprived of magic, but this was a different experience entirely.
Had anyone walked by at this moment, they would have seen a 16 year old male, arms extended, gazing into the sky, next to a 12 year old female, on a horse. After only a moment longer, Percival remounted his horse, and spoke quietly. "We go to our mother's home, Faramaurea, and, I hope, to peace there." With that, Percival spurred on his horse, and they rode deeper into the woods, of Elorean.
Dear Readers,
I would like to primarily apologise for this being late, although I actually have it done, as of September 1st, when I am writing this, but it won't be published until Sunday, the 3rd of September, when I have WiFi. As I told you all before, when school started, my already unpredictable writing patterns, would be liable to change. This is currently two days late, and will be four to five days late, by the time it is posted. However, just because this chapter it late, the next chapter does not get its release date pushed back. Should scheduling allow for it, the next chapter will be out Monday, September 4th.
Secondly, I would like to apologise for how slow this chapter is. I will indubitably be retconing it, at some point or another.
Thirdly, It has recently come to my attention, that some Readers may not like the Prologue, so I may be cutting it out. However, I have received contradictory reports on this. I will make the final decision by the time chapter five comes out, so my decision will be put in its after letter. I would like your inputs on this, because although I do this to entertain myself, I also do it to some degree, for you, my Readers. If you don't like something, let me know, so I can fix it. Don't just sit there, and complain about it to yourself. Let me know how to make it better.
Fourthly, here is a Elvish pronunciation key:
long "aaaah"
a = short "ah"
é = long "eeeh"
e = short "eh"
í = long "ee"
i = short "ih"
ó = long "oooh"
o = short "o" (almost like a short "ah")
ú = long "uuuh" (almost like a long "ooo")
u = short "uh"
ai ("aisle" or "eye") Sairon=S-eye-ron
au ("owl")
eu (British "so")
iu ("yule")
oi ("oil")
ui ("ruin")
c = always pronounced as "k"
h = pronounced as "h" when placed at the beginning of a word and as "ch" or "k" when placed between consonants; silent in the combinations: hw, hy, hl, hr ng = both sounds are always heard, as in "finger", not as in "singer"
r = most be rolled or trilled
s = always unvoiced
y = always a hard consonant, no matter where in a word it is placed
qu = "kw"; the "u" in this combination does not act as a vowel
When there are two syllables, stress the first.
When there are three or more syllables, stress the one that falls third to last. This is true unless the second to last syllable contains a long vowel, diphthong, or short vowel followed by a consonant cluster (multiple consonants side by side), in which case, the second to last is stressed.
Finally, and in a concluding fashion, Thank you for reading this far with me, and I hope you will continue to go on this journey with me. Live Long and Prosper!
Sincerely,
Isaiah Joel Oakley Le Istya