The Announcement
Chapter One
Heavy footsteps of the three travelers echoed down the long corridor as they approached the great hall where the elven lord awaited them. Their weapons, two long swords, a dagger and a large double-bladed battle ax, had been relinquished from their possession the moment they entered the city gates. They were the first humans ever to step foot in the vast city of Alevindaria however, they knew their message would not be a welcomed one. They had traveled a great distance through thick forests and rugged terrain, and though they were none too fond of the elven race, they could not help but be in awe of the city’s grandness. Resting deep within the ancient forest, the city sprawled for miles nestled on the southern side an ancient mountain range. Wrapped in the embrace of a vast crescent lake where the Elves used a fleet of small boats to fish and traverse the streams that flowed outward from the depths of the calm dark waters. The city walls provided security against the threat of invaders with tall towers staggered along its edges. Its white stone walls gleamed in the morning sun, and the sound of deep bells rang in the distance. These bells, known as the Chimes of the Daralathion, had rung the melodious harmonies of the ancient elves for thousands of years, but today they announced an event that had never happened before the meeting of two kings on elven land.
Cirious Alevinstar, the commander of the high elven guard and son of Lord Tolin the ruler of the elven people, led the human visitors through the hall. Besides the elven lord, the commander was the only elf whose reputation was known to the men. His infamy and prowess on the battlefield were legend, although his actual name was a mystery, the people of Davendoor had branded him the moniker of the Deathbringer. His armor shimmered in the morning light of the sun as it poured through the high arched windows, flooding into the corridor. Two swords sheathed in immaculately decorated leather scabbards hung crossed his back. A long flowing red cape, which was embroidered with the image of the Elder Tree the symbol of the kingdom of the Alevindaria, draped his lean, chiseled body nearly touching the floor. Once they had reached the corridor’s end, he opened a massive steel door that led into the great hall, and with a loud commanding call he announced their arrival as the human statesmen entered the chamber.
“Presenting Darion Dorzangoth, King of the Land of Davendoor, and his Councilors Reagus Volcrane and Kran Killendor.”
The room was vast, and the walls were made of beautiful white marble. The ceiling, high and arched was supported by massive columns that ran in two rows down the center of the room. A long red carpet lined the floor between the pillars and stretched from the doorway across the length of the chamber to the base of a platform. In the center rose a great tree bursting through the floor, filling much of the room with sprawling branches and vines. Leaves green as emeralds covered the limbs and beautiful white flowers bloomed dazzling like diamonds in the light. Entwined in the branches and formed in the heart of the trunk a majestic throne emerged as if the tree had bent itself to the will of a great architect. This was the Althron, and according to legend, it was planted in the great hall over ten thousand years earlier from the branch of the Elder Tree located in the ruined city of Daralathion. It served as the high throne of every elven lord who had ever reigned in the great city.
There were a dozen elven guards lined up on each side of the carpeted walkway and another six guards, three on each side of the throne. Their armor was well polished, and each guard wore a red cape and carried a spear. Each had a sword sheathed on their side and stood at attention as still as statues, keeping an ever watchful eye as the humans ambled past.
At the end of the carpet stood an elf holding a flag draped from a long staff which had been embroidered with the symbol of the Elder Tree. The Bannerman stood tall and proud as the humans stopped only a few feet away. He turned and marched with perfected steps toward the far left wall spinning on one heel upon reaching his destination facing the visitors. Sitting upon the throne was Lord Tolin, ruler of the elven kingdom; his grey hair pulled back, he wore robes made of white silk with decorative red stitching along the neck and shoulders. At his side resting against the arm of the throne as if held there in place by slender branches grasping the blade-like fingers, was a long, broad sword; its blade forged in the magical fire of Elisium, which gave it a blue hue when viewed in the direct light of the sun. There was a red jewel encrusted upon its pommel. Its golden hilt was engraved in the ancient language of the elves and read,
Alda’dour, Veriusda’un Adradouren Daveaus
Which in the common tongue translated to:
The Kings Blade, Guardian of the Ancient Realm
“Welcome distinguished guests,” said the elven Lord. “May we offer you some water, to quench your thirst from your long journey?”
An elven girl, handmaiden to the royal family, her hands visibly trembling, lifted a pitcher of water from a nearby table and offered it first to Reagus Volcrane. He was a stocky man with heavy leather armor and a full bushy beard. Her knees weakened at the sight of the barbaric human; she had never before stood so close to a man from the southern lands before, the smell of him was nauseating, his broad physique and the intense look in his eyes frightened her as she knew this man was dangerous. He grasped the pitcher with his large hand, grunting just before gulping a drink. Water ran down his face and beard as he passed the pitcher to the man standing beside him in the middle.
Darion Dorzangoth, the king of Davendoor, was the oldest of the three; his face looked like old leather, tough and scarred. His barrel chest filled his armor that had seen its fair share of battle. He scowled as he grabbed the pitcher of water and passed it hastily to the third man without taking a drink for himself. Kran Killendor was the tallest of the trio. His hair was wild and red, and his face was covered in hair. He lifted the pitcher to his face with both hands and drank. Water poured heavily from his beard down the front of his thick leather armor and drained down to the floor, causing a spill that dampened the carpet under his feet. He carelessly dropped the mostly empty pitcher on the floor, breaking it and spilling the remaining contents. This did not go without notice to the elven lord. He glared at his guest for his disrespectful behavior and thought, what else would you expect from a vulgar human?
Kran wiped his mouth off with his hand and spat on the floor in front of him, adding only to further insult their host.
Lord Tolin took a deep breath and calmly spoke.
“On behalf of the people of Alevindaria, I would like to—”
“Enough with the pleasantries!” barked Darion Dorzangoth, interrupting the elf as he stepped forward. “We are not here for a social visit, nor do we care for your creature comforts.”
The elven lord’s face grew stern, and he breathed a deep breath of frustration at the rudeness of his guest.
“Then let us get to the point,” said Lord Tolin, while shifting in his chair. “What brings you to my kingdom?”
The eldest human said, “We are here to serve you notice, elf.” Darion Dorzangoth’s voice was harsh, and he spoke with an angry authoritative tone. “I intend to march a substantial force north, crossing your lands toward Kelldawns pass near the Black Mounatins. According to the treaty signed by our people at the end of that damn war, I am obliged to inform you personally of such an action, so here I am, and you’ve been told,” he scolded.
The humans and elves had fought a long and bloody war that had lasted for nearly a century. Countless lives from both sides had fallen, and although Darion Dorzangoth despised the elves, he had learned to respect them as enemies.
“Why in the three hells would you wish to march your armies across my lands?” retorted Lord Tolin, the insolence of the human offended him, he had no patience for rudeness, and had no intention of allowing these barbarians to cross his kingdom.
King Dorzangoth scowled at the elven lord, his disdain for the elf radiated from his eyes. “What reasons I have are my own, and none of your affair,” he snapped, his chest puffed and shoulders broad.
The elven lord didn’t back down for even a moment; he leaned forward in his chair emphasizing his dominance over his guest. He angrily gripped the arm of his throne his knuckles white from the tension.
“If you think for a moment that I will give my consent for even a single human to step foot on my land without full knowledge of his intent, you are a fool, and are wasting my time.” Lord Tolin’s voice bellowed as if scolding a child. His patience for his visitors was already running thin, and he could see no good coming from this unexpected encounter.
Darion Dorzangoth’s eyes broke from the impertinent stare of the elven lord, and met with his counterpart’s gaze; Kran Killendor gave a slight nod toward his King, and Darion took a deep breath before continuing with all that he had to say.
“Very well, if you must know, I intend to hunt and kill the dragons of the north, for reasons that are my own, and I will let nothing stand in my way to seeing this done through fruition.
“Kill the dragons?” replied Lord Tolin. “I don’t know if you’re mad or a fool, but this cannot be done.”
“You let us worry about what can and cannot be done,” replied Darion. “But you should know that if you aid the beasts in any way, then the treaty signed by our people will be void, and we will consider you collaborators and hostile.”
“Collaborators and hostile?’” replied Lord Tolin, his voice raised. “You come into my kingdom, my home, make threats against my people, and stand there and accuse us of being hostile!”
Lord Tolin’s voice grew furious. He stood in defiance, and instantly every elf in the room stood at attention. The stomping of their feet and grasping of their spears sent an echoing sound throughout the vast hall.
“You dare show your force against us!” cried Killendor.
“You fool, if I had wished you harm, your dead stinking corpses would be rotting in the woods right now,” replied Lord Tolin. “The problem with humans is that you forget history too quickly. How you thirst for blood yet forget how you’ve had your fill of it not long ago!”
“I know about blood, elf, and if I were you I would worry about your own.” replied Darion.
“Your name is Dorzangoth? Descendant of Kalis Dorzangoth, no doubt,” said Lord Tolin.
“He was my grandfather, but that does not concern you, elf.” replied Darion.
“Do you know anything about him?” asked Lord Tolin.
“Of course, I do! What kind of question is that? He was a great warrior and fought in the Hellsgate War,” replied Darion.
During the war between the race of elves and men, the humans had sought to open the Hellsgate, a magical door to the ninth realm of Ar. They had hoped to release the powerful forces said to be on the other side and use them to conquer all of Ar. The elves stood and fought against the humans for over a hundred years until they finally prevailed, keeping the entire third realm of Ar safe.
Several of the elven guards in the room chuckled after hearing the Darion boast about his grandfather; the sound of their laughter only enraged the humans more.
“Every elf in this room fought in that damn war,” replied Lord Tolin. “I knew your grandfather, so let me tell you about the man I remember. Yes, he was a brave warrior, and a formidable opponent, but he was also intelligent, a quality that seems to have been lost throughout the generations. He knew that senseless bloodshed served no purpose, and that is why he and I signed the treaty between our people and stopped that pointless war.”
“You pointy-ears may have sold your souls to those reptilian demons, but we will not!” shouted Darion. “And by the gods, we will wipe them from the face of Ar!”
“Then may whatever gods you pray to help you because you’re going to need them!” replied Lord Tolin.
“Gentlemen! Let cool heads prevail here,” said a raspy voice. A slender elf wearing long, elaborate black robes stepped out from behind one of the pillars. His arms were folded, and his skin was pale. He had long black hair. His nose was crooked, and his mouth was thin. The elf approached the humans and extended his arm in a friendly gesture.
“Who is this? And why does he speak? Are you not the leader of your kind, elf?” asked a confused Darion.
“This is Zeroth. He is one of the twelve members of the Council of Daralathion, the Senate of our people. As for why he is speaking, I would like to know that myself,” replied Lord Tolin.
“As a representative of the people of Alevindaria, I just wish to defuse this hostile situation before it escalates beyond the means of repair,” replied Zeroth, his words almost spoke smoothly, though an edge lingered beneath his wordsing from his lips.
“Spoken like a true politician,” whispered Lord Tolin under his breath.
“Zeroth, you may represent a particular portion of our people on the council. However, this is still my hall!” barked Tolin. “And you will not speak in my hall unless I am the one speaking to you.”
“My apologies, My Lord,” replied Zeroth. “I meant no disrespect. I will excuse myself.”
Zeroth bowed low and gracefully backed away exiting the grand chamber through a door that was located near the back wall. The contempt for Lord Tolin’s authority could clearly be seen on his face. Even the humans noticed the look that filled the councilman’s eyes when he looked upon the elven lord.
Lord Tolin refocused his attention on the humans that stood before him. Wishing to have these barbaric guests leave his land as soon as possible, he spoke sternly to King Dorzangoth. “You have traveled a great distance to come here and were graciously greeted. You had a message that you wished to tell us. Your message has been delivered.” His voice was calmer but still firm. The authority of a century of rule could be heard emanating in his words. “My servants will fill your waterskins and food pouches. When they finished you will leave this city, and if any of you ever return, then by the gods I swear, you will receive a lesson in blood!”
“We will see about that,” replied Darion.
Four of the guards escorted the humans out the doors of the great hall. As they walked down the hall towards the outer doors, they saw a dark figure standing by the exit waiting for them. It was Councilman Zeroth. The slender elf nodded toward the guards as they reached and opened the doors for the guest.
As the humans and Zeroth walked through the doors, the elf whispered in a low voice to Darion, “Pay no attention to Lord Tolin. He is a wise leader but still holds a grudge against your kind, lingering from his days in the war. You will have no resistance from our people in your crusade. I do not believe it is feasible to be of any assistance to your cause. However, there will be no official offering of help to the ancient ones either.”
“The scolded dog talks,” replied Darion, as he chuckled.
“Remember, even the most seemingly loyal dog can bite the hand of its master if the opportunity arises,” replied Zoreth.
“Is Tolin not the leader of your army? Does he not command your forces?” asked Darion.
“Yes, this is true, but as he said, I represent the people and have considerable influence over the council, and no Lord would take our people to war with the humans without the support of the council.” Zeroth gritted his teeth as the words spoke smoothly, though an edge lingered beneath his wordsed from his thin lips.
The three humans and the elf walked slowly down the empty street with the four elven soldiers trailing a few steps behind.
“So no elf will assist the dragons?” asked Kran Killendor.
“I can’t say that every elf will obey the will of the council. As you know, some of our people are very fond of the beasts. There may be a rogue elf or two, but if they were dealt with discreetly, and especially if it could be made to look like the dragons were responsible for any harm…”
Zeroth gave a half smile as he spoke. “…well that would afford me certain political strengths, and the flow of power might just change, if you understand what I mean,” said Zeroth.
The human warrior smiled, “You see Kran. They are every bit as cunning as we are,” replied Darion. “So elf, if any elven collaborators would find themselves, well let’s say toasty, then we may find your kind an ally, not an obstacle, in the destruction of the dragons. Do I understand you correctly?”
“You may be able to say that,” replied Zeroth.
“And if this resulted in the end of the reign of Tolin and the beginning of the rule of a more understanding elf, perhaps one like yourself, then you would be very grateful to our people. Does that about sum it up?” said Darion.
“Well I’ll just say that our alliance would be much, much stronger.” grinned Zeroth.
“Then we have an understanding,” said Darion. “Just to be clear elf, if you double cross me as you do your own people, my sword will find your belly as you sleep.”
Zeroth’s face turned cold. “Yes, I believe we have an understanding,” replied the elf.
The humans continued down the street toward the city gates, as Zeroth turned back toward the palace. The elven guards escorted the three men back to the gates of the city. They gave them food and water, as promised by Lord Tolin, and watched as the men made their way back into the forest.
Zeroth had a plan. It would involve treason of the highest form, but if it worked, it would put him in good standings to become the new lord. It would also mean betraying the dragons, the one race in Ar that had been the most loyal friend to the elven people. But his lust for power was all that concerned him; he cared not for the countless lives that may be lost in the process or who would be hurt along the way. Zeroth wanted the throne, and he was determined to get it.
The Chime of Time