As
I write new short stories, or tales, they will be posted here.
Some of these tales will be ultimately end up being woven together.
Some stand on their own. *No material here may be copied, posted
or published in any way without my consent. See Terms of Use at
bottom of "About Me" Page.
Farren
stood in the center of the room, and met the gaze of his accusers.
He was guilty. There was no question. But this seemed a little
extreme for trespassing. He was alone in a circular room that
resembled a cave. The similarities stopped at the wide window
carved into the wall across from him, and the pole coming up from
the center of the floor.
The pole itself was clear, as if it had been crafted from a single
crystal. As Farren noted his surroundings, the pole sparked. Or
at least he thought it had. Again. This time he saw it. A tiny
blue flame lifted off the surface of the pole, and danced. A split
second later, it was gone. Great, he thought. That whack on the
head must have been harder than I thought.
Even as he thought it, his right hand was moving to the pole's
surface. A small part of his mind warned him that this was a very
bad idea, but most of his brain was suddenly entranced in the
swirl of colors rising to meet his hand. Pale egg shell blues
swam with indigos, cobalt, and aqua-marine. As they touched his
finger tips, his hand felt drawn to the pole as if by physical
force. Contact. It was cold. Numbingly cold. Instantly he tried
to pull his hand away, as alarms sounded in his brain. Pull!
his brain screamed at him. As he pulled, his finger tips actually
started to sink into the pole, disappearing completely. He had
been in hundreds of bad situations, but this was quickly starting
to head to the top of his list. As his mind tried to grasp what
was happening to him, his accusers watched with an air of boredom.
They had said it was The Test. If he failed, he would cease to
exist. On this plane or any other. If he succeeded, he had the
aid of ten thousand battle hardened warriors. His mind raced.
He didn't dare pull again. Half his hand was gone, already. He
kept his left hand out behind him, as if the distance would protect
him. Ten thousand warriors. He couldn't afford to lose that. He
had to get out of this room. Pulling again, he watched in horror
as his arm slid into nothingness up to his elbow. Oh Gods, he
thought. He wanted to scream, but he needed those men. Without
them, his people were as good as gone. All he had wanted was to
find a way to help. And then the elves had caught him. He prided
himself on his fighting prowess, but they had dropped him like
a child. And now this. The Test. What was this Test? How could
you possibly survive this thing? Elven and human relations had
always been a bit tense, so why would they offer so much aid if
he passed this test? Was it just a sick joke? Some elven tease?
He pulled again, and his arm sank another few inches. Damn, damn,
damn. He frantically searched the eyes of the elves for any sign
or clue. Nothing. They still looked bored, in fact. As the first
signs of shock were just registering in his brain, it happened.
The leader, a tall dark skinned warrior, smiled. What the...?
It was a smile that said "trust me". But how? "Trust
me", the smile seemed to say. Ever a practical man, he realized
he had no other viable options. Gathering his will, and taking
a deep breath, he threw himself into the pole...
And was instantly repelled. With enough force to send him crashing
into the wall behind him.
As he lay stunned on the room's floor, the elves began to sing.
At first it was only the ones who had observed the strange human
survive his ordeal.
Soon other voices joined in. Soft melodies rang out from every
corner of the valley, until it seemed as if the trees themselves
were ringing with song. As the new voices added layers to the
song, the air itself began to change. The trees began to tremble,
and the grasses were blowing as if there a mighty wind. All the
colors of the spectrum began to dance throughout the valley, weaving
a tapestry of light and sound that stripped the illusions from
Farren's mind. Leaving the peacefull valley replaced by a thriving
city.
Stunned, Farren shook his head to clear the effects of the blast.
Just as he was beginning to see less than three of everything
again, he noticed his room, too, had changed. No longer carved
from rock to resemble a cave, it was now very different. Every
surface appeared to have been crafted from one solid crystal.
In fact, it looked exactly like the same crystal...he turned to
face the pole that moments before had been an object of absolute
terror for him. It was still there, but was now crackling with
energy. As it spat out tongues of light, Farren could hear a low
pitched hum that seemed to echo the song that had just been sung.
Just what the Hell am I doing here?, he thought. Getting to his
feet, he turned to face the elves.
You are here to convince my people to give you aid.
What? He could have sworn he hadn't seen anbody's lips move.
As it dawned on him that he could hear someone else's thought,
his brain began to itch. Ahhhh, Gods!, he thought. What have they
done to me? He began to scatch his head as the itching grew in
intensity.
We have given you a great gift, human. One we feel you are now
worthy of.
This time it was a different voice. And he could almost swear
it had come from one of the elves in front. A tall, elderly man,
with the bearing of one who had seen many battles.
You will grow used to it in time.The itching should stop soon.
The first voice. As Farren scratched furiously at his head, he
wondered what an elf's version of soon was. Somehow, he knew the
voice was from the elf who had smiled, during the test.
Yes. You are already growing aware. Good." My name is Renari
Celtaine." Spoken this time."On behalf of the elves
of the Laquastiri, I welcome you." His smile was genuine.
Farren couldn't resist. Between his capture, The Test, and the
constant itching he hadn't had a good afternoon."I'm bloody
well glad you welcome me, because frankly, I'd hate to see what
you do to people you don't welcome." He knew it was a risk,
but he wasn't in the best of moods.
Careful, my friend. Not all here are convinced of your cause.
I believe the crystal speaks truly, but it has been many generations
since one of your race has passed The Test, and old predudices
die hard for some. Renari's voice was cautious, as if he was afraid
of being overheard.
Generations? Of ELVES? With each elf living about a thousand years
(Or so his mother had often told him) that had to be a very long
time, Farren thought.
Farren made a wide path around the crystal and paused, not sure
if he was allowed to leave yet.
"Yes. Come" Renari gestured and the remaining elves
stepped aside, leaving the doorway open at last.
As he passed Renari, Farren got his first, up close, look at the
man responsible for the sensation of a thousand tiny ants crawling
over his scalp. Renari was tall, almost as tall as Farren himself,
and equally well muscled. In fact, he appeared to be in prime
shape. He was wearing a vivid purple tunic, roped with silver,
arms exposed to show off silver gauntlets that ran up to his elbows.
The contrast was severe, and Farren caught himself wondering why
all the stories had elves as fair skinned. Renari's long flowing
hair was the color of coal, and his eyes were the same shade as
his tunic.
His head still swimming from all that had just happened, Farren
took a deep breath and turned toward the city. The city that would
help him defeat the darkness pouring down from the north. At that
thought, he remembered his captain sending him on this mission
and all of his people in desperate need of this source of aid.
He sighed. The battle may not be won, he thought, but he had survived
the beginning.
