Under watchful eyes

[Edrilith]

The sharp crack of the whip over my head returns me from my daydream. I really must learn to be more careful about doing that. I look the scowling Dragoon in the eye, then look down quickly in submission.

The high priestess has sent a small group of slaves to look for a rare herb she needs. We fan out over the designated area, under the watchful eye of the great warrior. He is clearly irritated with this task but would never be so stupid as to disagree openly with the high priestess. Such is the delicate balance of brawn and magic maintained in House Gal’Saris.

I glance to my left and right, making certain I remain in line with the other slaves. Kareth and Huur flank my sides a few feet away, crawling along the forest floor, occasionally reaching out to examine the foliage.

They do this to break us, of course. After several hours, our hands and knees are raw and bleeding and our meager clothing is torn. More often than not, the troupe does not succeed in finding the desired item. The priestesses and wizardresses take great pride in the exquisite forms of torture they have perfected over the years. I would much prefer the quick, brutal beatings at the hands of the Dragoons or dark knights than what the magic users conjure up.

Fortunately, I have endured only three such sessions after unsuccessful attempts at escape… and even then they seemed to hold back. I have seen cases where they did not restrain themselves. Kareth, for example, is an outcast from the old House Thex. They tell me that House Thex is no longer in favor in the dark elf city, and as such there is no fear of reprisals. I do not have the words or the experience to describe what they have done to Kareth.

So why do I receive such favored treatment? Well… to understand that you would need to know who I am beyond merely Edrilith the half-elf. After living among the Tier Dal for over half of my young life, I will admit that I don’t even know who I am anymore.

(to be continued)

[Edrilith]

I was born into a life of privilege. My father Edril was a great elven warrior, and my mother Almaril was a highly skilled Erudite magician. After many years of wandering and adventuring across both Faydwer and Tunaria, my father finally settled in the lands awarded to him near the city of Qeynos.

My birth was a source of great joy to my parents, and a surprise. To the best of my knowledge, no one had heard of an elf and erudite having a child together. The elf blood is strong in me, and it colors most of my features. I think I could blend in quite well with a group of true elves, despite my slightly tanned skin tone, black hair and black eyes. I did, however, inherit some of my mother’s Erudite temper.

Because of my father’s renown, word of my birth soon spread across the continent. I was called many things by many races. “A miracle”, said the ambassadors of Qeynos. “An amazing invention!” exclaimed the gnomes of Klik Anon. “Troublesome”, said the Tier’Dal of Neriak.

“An abomination,” said my paternal grandmother in Fayspires.

I never met my elvish grandparents, for my mother refused to speak to them after that. I can recall my years spent in both Qeynos and Highbourne as a child – playing among the dockyards, running through the ramparts of the ancient castles, watching the sun set over the western ocean. I have never seen the elven city of Fayspires or the tree town of Tethelin.

I grew up primarily among the Western humans. I was always the ‘odd’ one among them and never truly fit in, no matter how much I tried to. I can remember times as a child when I would stare at my reflection in a pool of water, trying unsuccessfully to bend the pointy tips of my ears.

As I grew into boyhood, I developed an especially close relationship with my father Edril. While he had put most of his ranging ways behind him, he nevertheless took me everywhere from the time I turned six years old, much to my mother’s chagrin. She need not have worried, for one look at the long sword at my father’s side and his magnificent suit of armor was enough to turn any brigands away.

Each night, whether we were on the road or whether I was tucked into my bed in Qeynos, my father would share one of his past adventures with me. I truly treasure these memories. My father told me how shortly after leaving the elven continent of Faydwer, he spent several decades living and fighting in the deserts of Tunaria. He told me of the time he did battle for the gnomes of Ak’Anon, and how he has always been welcomed among them. Of course my favorite adventure was his perilous voyage to find the great dragon Trakanon. I think my father must have told me that story at least weekly, if not more. He would even let me examine the heavy pendant that the dragon had given him, warmed from the heat of his body and from the dragon magic inside it.

[Edrilith]

I was about 10 years old when we left on our longest (and last) journey together, a week-long trek to the mountain hold of Highpass. I remember staying close to my father’s side as we traveled through the great trading city. I was amazed at the variety of races I saw there. There were towering barbarians, horrible trolls, swarthy humans, slender elves and tiny gnomes. It was a variety I had never seen in Qeynos or Highbourne. My father had laughed when he saw the expression on my face, and had promised to take me to the human city of Freeport one day when I was “old enough” to understand what I would see there. Unfortunately he was never able to fulfill that promise.

The night I was taken was a faint memory for me, but Tsekar Kelriss of House Gal’Saris has helped me fill in many of the gaps. They came for me shortly before my eleventh birthday. It was a band of four Gal’Saris Dragoons, with a silent elf child among them. They came like death through the window of my bedroom, silencing me before I could wake with a sleeping spell. They tucked me into a sack and placed the elf child in my bed. The Qeynos quards never saw their movements.

My parents woke the next morning to find a very sickly child in my place. They thought it was me, and remained by the child’s side as the unknown disease ravaged its small body. I can only imagine what they must have gone through, watching the elfling they thought was me die before their eyes.

Sometimes I wonder who that dead elf child was. Tsekar told me of the powerful magics used by the high priestess of House Gal’Saris, who was responsible for ensuring that it looked exactly like me. He told me of the tiny screams that emanated from her chambers for weeks before the raid on my father’s house occurred.

It wasn’t until fairly recently that I understood why the dark elves stole me away. For one, it had to do with the political standing of House Gal’Saris, which Tsekar has been able to explain to me in great detail. Their relationship with Neriak is tenuous, and as strong as their house remains, they are in no position to oppose the powerful city. Mostly, they took me to destroy my father. And from what I saw five years ago reflected in the shimmering pool under the great tower, they are succeeding – the mighty Edril is a wisp of what he once was, and my mother Almaril fairs little better. For all I know, they may already be dead.

I have spent the past twelve years among the dark elves of House Gal’Saris. I live and work among the slaves, but am fortunate to receive better treatment than they do. I stay in a room in the great tower, not in the dank caves beneath it. Tsekar and I have grown up together and the young Tier’Dal has been a major reason for my better status. But he cannot control or even guess what the main houses of Neriak have planned for me.

My escape attempts so far have been unsuccessful. I sense that my time is growing short, and that they will come for me soon. I cannot be here when they come. I cannot let them use me again.

[Edrilith]

I fell limply to the floor of my chamber, lying upon the tattered blanket that served as my bed. The bruise from my latest Dragoon encounter had already begun to flower across my face. A single, enchanted candle flickered in the corner of the empty, windowless room.

It had been a particularly difficult day, and I was grateful to finally have a few hours of rest. The entire Gal’Saris house had been put on heightened alert after a number of young Barbarian warriors had been spotted running through the area. They had managed to escape the Dragoons and dark knights, which in turn had taken out their frustrations on the slaves. Mercifully, sleep came to me quickly.

It seemed that the nightmare came to claim me almost as suddenly as I had fallen asleep. In my dream, I felt the drafty air of the tower swirl into my room. My body shook lightly with the chills of someone newly woken.

I could just make out her face in the candlelight. She was probably around middle age for her race, but her beauty was undeniable. Her long, white hair fell down her back, moving with the sway of her robes. Her full, red lips were curved slightly. Her eyes glowed red with power, and the aura of her magic almost hummed around her.

Even in sleep, the sight of the High Priestess of the Gal’Saris house terrified me. I felt the muscles in my body tighten, awaiting whatever painful spell that might be cast in my direction.

Nothing. The dream figure continued to stand in the doorway, robes fluttering in the slight tower breeze. She drifted inside then, closing the door behind her.

“Edrilith,” she said, looking down at me. “Why do you make things so hard for yourself? Surely you know there are better ways to be treated among us?”<br>
My dream self did not answer, could not answer. The terror remained thick in my throat. It was all I could do to concentrate on breathing.

“Stand before me, half-elf,” the High Priestess said. Her tone did not leave room for negotiation. I saw myself rise slowly from the floor, trying not to let the trembling show. Despite years of stooping before the Tier Dal, at my full height I stood just slightly taller than her. I could not look her directly in the eyes – that much had been branded into me during my servitude here.

The exquisite dark elf reached out with her hand, lifting my chin. She wanted me to look at her! I did not even know her name, none of the Gal’Saris slaves did! Somehow my dream self managed to hold her red gaze… waiting… listening to the sounds of our breathing.

“My son Tsekar likes you, half-elf. I think it has been a good experience for him, to learn about the lesser races firsthand. His wizard training is going to take up more of his time… I believe he will soon be sent back to Neriak to train among the head wizards there. Whatever the case, young Edrilith, you will be losing your sole ally among the Gal’Saris.”<br>
Her eyes darkened then. “I do not know how much longer you will be with us, so I wanted to give you an offer. If you pledge yourself to me, Edrilith, I will make the last of your days with us much more bearable.” She smiled lewdly, and laughed. “You will not find a better offer. Consider it well, slave.”<br>
The figure disappeared into the darkness, closing the chamber door. In my dream, I shivered again as I lay back down, holding the remnants of the blanket close to my body.

It seemed only an hour or two had passed when the door slammed open, revealing the young Necromancer that had been sent to fetch me. The smell of the dark elf’s pet, standing just outside the chamber, almost made me vomit.

I stood quickly, disturbed by the nightmare that still plagued my thoughts. I was just about to follow the Tier Dal down the tower steps when I stopped, staring at the single strand of long, white hair caught in the door…<br>

[Edrilith]

About one week later I found myself standing in Tsekar’s chambers, watching as he packed his few possessions into a saddlebag. I could sense his excitement. He was to train under the guild master of the wizard academy. His apprenticeship would last for just over 20 seasons, a short period in the life of a dark elf.

Tsekar had called me here on the pretense of having me carry the saddlebag for him. In truth, I knew he saw it as his last chance to speak to me. I doubted we would ever meet again.

The young wizard took the last two leather-bound books from his shelf, gently sliding them into the side pockets of the bag. These were his spellbooks, and were quite valuable to him.

“I wonder what the guild master will be like?” he said out loud, not seeking an answer. “I look forward to choosing my life spell path. I shall be able to summon more powerful familiars to aid me. Ah Edrilith, it feels I have waited so long for this day!”<br>
If only I wasn’t so afraid at what his imminent departure meant for me, I’m sure I would have been happier for Tsekar. He had good reason to be excited. He was average at best among the Gal’Saris magic users, none of which felt any need to teach him anything. Most barely even spoke to him. Given his latent abilities, I was certain he would one day be more powerful than all of them.

Even his mother…<br>
I came back to the real world suddenly to find Tsekar staring at me, a slight frown clouding his features. He closed the strap of the saddlebag and looped it around the buckle twice. He tied his hair back into a tail, lest it bother him on the ride ahead.

“Edrilith,” he said, looking up at me again. “I am glad that I was able to know you. I never would have heard the stories of your peoples, for my kind do not keep records of the successes of the good Tunarian races. It is much easier to tell our young ones of the failures and weaknesses of the light elves, humans and others… much easier that way to instill the sense of superiority at a young, impressionable age.”<br>
He began to pace around the chamber, his black robes brushing the floor. “Of course I too believe in the greatness of my kind, and trust that one day we will rule these lands. But it is foolish to presume the other races are weak and stupid, and that they will not oppose us. It is best to be educated about them, to understand their strengths as well as their weaknesses… and I have you to thank for that, for starting me down that path.”<br>
His words chilled me slightly but I appreciated his honesty. If there was one thing that all dark elves seemed to have in common, it was their determination. They certainly were an ambitious lot.

“I’m not sure what will happen to you after I’m gone,” he continued. “My mother refuses to tell me if she has received word from Neriak. I thought they might have sent someone for you by now…”. He stopped suddenly, then walked over to the chamber door and listened closely. After a few moments, he seemed satisfied and stood near me again.

“Do you know the guard tower near the bridge, Edrilith?”<br>
I quirked my eyebrows, thinking this was an odd question. “Yes Tsekar, but…”

His voice dropped, as he whispered, “About 20 steps away from there is a large boulder. Can you picture it?”<br>
“Tsekar, what…”

“Can you picture it?!!?” he repeated, a tinge of desperation in his tone. The slight sound of footsteps could be heard approaching from outside the chamber door.

“Yes, I know it…”

Tsekar handed me the saddlebag. “Remember it, Edrilith. It could mean your life one day. Make your way there, you will see.”<br>
I was taken aback by the intensity in Tsekar’s red eyes. I nodded to him, just as the chamber door swung open. One of the Dragoon warriors stood there, and slightly behind him was a Gal’Saris enchantress. Tsekar’s mother had already said her good-byes.

The warrior cuffed me from behind as we made our way down the winding steps. Tsekar turned to glare at him, but the Dragoon only smirked. We walked the rest of the way in silence. About an hour later, I watched Tsekar and his escort leave the valley. My gaze traveled up to the great bridge, and the roof of the guard tower overlooking it.

[Edrilith]

Tsekar’s departure was the beginning of a new life for me. My old room in the tower would no longer be my home. Instead I slept amongst the other slaves in the foul, damp tunnels that snaked beneath the Gal’Saris structures. My tattered blanket became a former luxury.

The beatings I received at the hands of the guards became more frequent and intense. This newest distraction provided some relief for their usual victims, such as Kareth, who simply watched in silent approval. I had not realized just how much they were holding back before.

I rarely had a chance to speak, unless commanded to do so. I missed the times Tsekar and I had shared stories of our peoples. As the weeks passed, my voice grew gravelly with inactivity.

I began to wonder if I might receive better treatment in Neriak but soon pushed that thought aside. The dark elf lords there certainly had their reasons for wanting me alive, and that was probably the last thread preventing the Dragoons from killing me. Their desire to keep me around was certainly not based on benevolence.

I had always thought of myself as a strong individual. I fancied that I must have inherited at least some of my father’s determination, and that I could survive this treatment with my head held high. My stubborn mind held on to this belief, even as my ribs strained against my skin, even as my skin grew pale and the spark that was hope left my eyes.

I think I might have persevered if I had not seen what I did the day before last. I had been sent to the lake to fetch water when I noticed a hunting party of Dragoons returning to the encampment. In the midst of their formation walked a single elf… a cleric perhaps, judging by her collar and white robes.

As they approached, the water jug slipped from my grasp, shattering at my feet. The glare I received from the lead Dragoon assured me of the punishment I would receive later. With a nod, he had me trailing after the hunting party as they returned to the tower. I stared mindlessly at the elf, wondering who she was and what would happen to her. She turned back once quickly to look at me, her blue eyes round with fear.

The High Priestess and several of the other powerful casters of House Gal’Saris greeted the hunters and their prey. The warriors moved back a respectable distance, watching the others surround the beautiful elf in a wide circle. One of the Dragoons twisted my arm behind me, pulling me back with him. I ignored the pain, transfixed by the scene before me. Would this one soon join me amongst the ranks of the slaves?

My answer came moments later. The High Priestess could speak the Dal language, and asked the elf a few curt questions. Apparently satisfied, she too moved back into the circle of casters. One by one, their hands began to glow as they muttered the words of their incantations. The elf closed her eyes and dropped her head to her chest, her hands clenched tightly at her sides.

I felt myself scream breathlessly as the spells hit her. Soon the air stank of death, and the elf’s red blood soaked the ground where she had fallen. The warrior twisted my arm harder, threatening to break it, but I was barely aware of his actions.

The High Priestess looked around at the assembled dark elves. “She was of a minor house, truly of no use to us for ransom or information. Well done, my warriors… she did provide some much needed sport!” Her gaze locked on me then, and she smiled. "I'd like to think that everyone has some sort of use."

The wizardresses, enchanters and necromancers followed the High Priestess back to the tower. The Dragoon finally released his grip. He shoved me towards the dead elf. “Clean that up!” he growled.

Of course I did as I was told, stooping to gently lift the broken body from the ground. I noticed the tears that rimmed her eyes, and suddenly my own tears flowed down my cheeks. I buried my face in her robes, trying not to let the warrior see me weeping.

We left her half-buried in the forest a fair distance away, leaving her remains to the wild creatures. My mind was numb as I followed the Dragoon back to House Gal’Saris and my body was tattooed in the patterns of the elf's blood. In an uncharacteristic moment of thoughtfulness, the warrior let me wash myself in the waters of the lake. As I watched the water swirl red around me, I knew then that I desparately wanted to survive… and knew what price I would have to pay to ensure that.

[Edrilith]

Her chest rises and falls slowly, as she enjoys the deep, untroubled sleep afforded to those who have absolute confidence in their power. I find myself tossing fitfully beneath the blankets, envious of her slumber. I look over at the Dragoon guards standing beside the chamber doors. They do not meet my gaze, unwilling to intrude upon the privacy of their mistress.

Much like the ebb and flow of the ocean tides near Qeynos, I have again seen my life among these dark elves change. It was fear that drove me to knock on her chamber doors a few days ago. She had smiled and looked me over with her red gaze… it seemed as if she had been expecting my arrival. The events that soon followed have been almost overwhelming.

Once more I trudged up the tower steps, this time taking up residence in one of the rooms adjacent to the quarters of the High Priestess. The furnishings were sparse but included a small cot and a handful of books. Compared to the slave tunnels, it was like living in a castle.

Before I was called upon by the High Priestess, a trio of younger priestesses led me to the lake to be bathed. They stripped off my old rags and scrubbed my skin until it was raw. Some of my old scars were healed by their touch. One of them yanked a comb through my tangled black hair, and then trimmed some of its length with her dagger. For the first time in years, I was given new clothes which hung loosely on my thin frame. I had returned from my bath to find a heaping platter of food waiting for me in my room.

I never thought that I would see a day when could walk unhindered past the Dragoon warriors and the dark knights. I still found myself flinching, mind you, but they never lifted a hand against me.

I would be lying if I claimed that what I’ve done is solely out of fear. I have known my share of pleasures in the brief time I’ve spent with the High Priestess. I am not so foolish to believe that she bears any true affection for me, nor I for her… I sometimes think that my ability to love anyone was extinguished years ago.

As I lay my head upon the pillow, waiting for sleep to claim me, my thoughts float towards Tsekar’s last words to me. If I am cautious and patient, perhaps my opportunity will arrive.

[Edrilith]

The attack on House Gal’Saris had shocked even the dark elves with its brutality. All afternoon, a parade of slaves had carried bodies into the valley from where the battle had occurred. The High Priestess and her followers were able to rip the souls of ten of the dead warriors and dark knights out of the underworld and back into their mortal shells. The remainder were taken away to be preserved in magical oils and other substances, so they could be raised later by the necromancers.

The single greatest loss was the young wizardress, felled by a single arrow. She had been a close advisor to the house elders and had shown much promise over the decades. She would be afforded a proper burial behind the tower.

Understandably, the dark elves had been thrown into a state of shock. Theirs was a strong house, but the loss of eight warriors and the incapacitation of another ten had struck them hard.

I knew this chaos could provide my best chance yet to escape, and waited for an opportunity to present itself. In the mean time, I remained in the background and absorbed what happened around me.

Later in the evening, a wizard arrived at the tower to request the presence of the High Priestess at the underground complex. One of the resurrected dark elves had finally regained his ability to speak, and had asked to confer with the elders. I followed behind the group, unnoticed for the moment.

[Edrilith]

Inside the wide chamber, I saw Saxil Gal’Saris, the patron of the house and father to most of the dark elves who dwelled here. Beside him was his eldest son, Ziliq, the leader of the Dragoon warriors and by far the most intimidating Tier Dal I had ever known. Ziliq held the arrow that had killed the wizardress. He frowned when he saw me. Fortunately the presence of the High Priestess was enough to make him hold his words.

Saxil turned to the High Priestess as she and her entourage entered the room. He bowed low, Ziliq doing likewise soon afterwards. Their obsequious actions did not dissuade her from her true purpose, as she strode past the two males to where the warrior lay upon a cot.

“Speak,” she commanded the prone Tier Dal. “Who did this to you? How many were there? Who could so easily fell my mighty warriors?” After uttering those last words, she turned to glare at Ziliq, who flushed red.

“It was an elf, most honored one,” the warrior stammered, licking his suddenly dry lips. “A single elf… but trained like no Dal I have ever seen. She fought like one of us, most honored one.”<br>
“I see,” the High Priestess purred, turning her attention away from the relieved Dragoon. The fury building within her seemed to reach out with tendrils towards Saxil and Ziliq. I found myself stepping backwards until my back rested against the wall of the room.

“She must be quite the fighter, to have decimated our ranks like that. I don’t care if she was under the tutelage of dark elves… something like this should never have happened!! Consider what this has done to our defenses!”<br>
Ziliq spoke up foolishly. “Perhaps if you hadn’t killed that Dal priestess, this whole mess could have been avoided…”

Seconds later the great warrior howled, as the High Priestess turned her gaze solely on him. Rivulets of energy snaked around his body, in and out of his skin, plucking at his internal organs as if they were playing with harp strings. Ziliq collapsed to the ground, writhing in pain. After about a minute the magical energy stopped, and he lay there breathing shallowly. She might have killed him then, were they not so desperately short of warriors.

She moved towards her sometimes-lover Saxil, who had wisely stayed out of the entire affair.

“I shall contact the lords of Neriak this eve, to learn if any young warriors can be spared to aid our defenses. I already suspect the answer will be no. Saxil, I need our fighters to redouble their training efforts. We cannot let something like this happen again!”<br>
Saxil nodded, “Yes, most honored one, it will be so. What shall be done with Ziliq?”<br>
The High Priestess looked down at the unconscious Dragoon. “He needs to prove to me that he can lead my warriors. He shall be kept alive but pass his title along to another. So it shall be done until his worth is shown to me.”<br>
She left before Saxil could bow again, and I hurried along behind the group. I heard Saxil barking out orders to the warriors, knights and even scouts throughout the camp. Soon the entire surviving army had gathered within the underground compound, save for the handful of guards in the watch towers.

[Edrilith]

Was this my opportunity? The magic-users had followed the High Priestess to the tower, where together they would invoke a portal over the shimmering pool to open communications with Neriak. The remaining Gal’Saris dark elves were being disciplined by Saxil.

I took a deep breath and began to move slowly towards the opposite side of the valley. The booming voice of the Gal’Saris patron grew faint until it could no longer be heard. I reached one of the smaller towers near the edge of the valley. This was the one the wizardress had died in. I peered around again as the dusk gathered its strength. Slowly, fearfully, I walked towards the lake and the sides of the valley which were the most gently sloped. I made sure that my path would take me near the guard tower Tsekar had spoken of.

A slight rustling sound ahead almost made me faint. I hoped it was a beast of some kind, I would find a way to deal with that… but something told me it wasn’t. I stopped and slipped behind a tree, blending in with the silent grove.

“You’re certain to get caught, moving about as loudly as you have been,” a voice said. “Your father would have been most displeased.”<br>
The mention of my father caused my heart to beat faster. What kind of trickery was this? Who among these dark elves knew my father?

“Come out, Edrilith,” said the stranger. The voice sounded impossibly close.

Cautiously, I tilted my head enough to look into the copse before me. A figure stood there, the first hint of moonlight shimmering upon its pale skin. By all appearances this was an elf. I wondered if this was the same elf responsible for the attack on House Gal’Saris.

I moved to hide behind the tree again as I saw a lone Gal’Saris guard approaching. The elf saw him as well but did not seem concerned. Incredibly, the guard strolled past the moonlit figure, continuing on his patrol.

The elf smiled at me. “Young one, do not fear,” it assured me. “For the next piece of time, whatever that may be, you shall not be heard or seen by the mortal world. It is just you and I, just you and I.”<br>
This time I did walk out from behind the tree. Something told me I did not need to fear the elf, despite the strangeness of the situation. I stopped once I stood before it, and asked, “Who are you?”<br>
“Ah, Edrilith,” the wondrous being replied. “A simple question that be, but my answers are not so. I am of the ages… a friend and foe to ancient things. I looked upon the birth of these lands. I am blessed and I am cursed. I am pride and I am vanity. I am the bane of the gods of Norrath. More than this am I, but several of your lifetimes would pass before I would finish the telling.”<br>
It was then that I noticed the elf’s eyes – they were golden. Shining gold, much like the band the High Priestess wore about her neck. And yet… and yet that was too simple of a comparison. Those eyes were like nothing I had ever seen before.

I steeled myself then, and repeated my question. “Who are you?”<br>
Its smile widened, the golden eyes crinkled in delight. “Edrilith, son of Edril… my name is Trakanon. I believe of me you know, yes?”<br>

[Edrilith]

Trakanon.

I let the word tumble about in my mind for a while, absorbing its significance. My father’s story, the one I had heard hundreds of times when I was a child, came thundering into my thoughts.

Trakanon was an ancient dragon who had been banished to the lost island of Kunark many centuries ago. He was one of Veeshan’s first brood… old enough to have witnessed the birth of Norrath when the land was torn asunder by Veeshan’s claw. Long ago, he and his allies had launched an attack on a race known as the iksar, the lizardmen. The incident sparked a war between the iksar and dragons that lasted for over half a century. For his part in starting this war, Trakanon was punished not only by the Gods but by his fellow dragons. He would be doomed to live out the rest of his days entombed in a cave on the desolate island of Kunark.

My father was the last known mortal to have spoken with Trakanon, and the last of three individuals to have received a special prophecy from the far-sighted beast. Edril had been gifted with a pendant. One day it would be given to the dragon’s chosen, whenever that individual came to walk upon the lands of Norrath.

I frowned, stepping closer to the elf before me. Could this possibly be an avatar of the mighty serpent? How could I be certain this wasn’t a trick?

The elf, meanwhile, continued to smile contently. “You look so much like your father, young Edrilith. The sight pleases my eyes. It seems only a breath has passed since he came to visit me.”<br>
I returned the smile. After a brief hesitation, I decided to give the avatar a test, based on what little I knew about dragons. “I assume you enjoy riddles, um… Trakanon?”<br>
The elf’s smile grew even wider and it rubbed the palms of its hands together. “Oh indeed, I find them most fascinating! I like them very much, yes. Have you one to share?”<br>
“Yes,” I replied, and recited it from memory:

“Two brothers we are, great burden we bear
By which we are bitterly pressed.
In truth we may say
We are full all the day
But empty we go to our rest.”

I watched as the elf nodded its head, its mouth still locked in a maddening grin. “Oh yes, oh that one I believe I have heard. I have no need of such things myself, but I think that the answer you seek is Shoes.”<br>
It clapped when I nodded. This was slim proof at best, but the dragon elf certainly seemed overly enthused about riddles.

“Ah little one,” Trakanon sighed, the smile suddenly vanishing from the agent’s beautiful features. “You bring me such enjoyment, and here I am bearing unhappy news. Yet know of it you must, for it affects us both.”<br>
I swallowed hard, wondering what possibly could have brought this mighty creature to me.

“Edrilith,” the dragon god said slowly. “Your father is dead.”<br>

[Edrilith]

The avatar moved closer and lowered and its voice. “I knew it when his voice no longer came through the pendant. He fought bravely these last seasons but he could not defeat the death that clung to him. It had been a struggle ever since you were taken from his side. The elves keep his body in Fayspires for people to see… and indeed they come, many races from across Tunaria … but he will soon go to Faydwer to be buried amongst his kin.”<br>
I do not know if I processed much of what Trakanon said. The words seemed to rebound off me like raindrops thudding on a rooftop. I do not recall feeling any emotions at the time, just stillness… as if a part of me long forgotten was no longer there.

“One day,” he continued. “The elder races or the Gods themselves shall find a way to destroy me. I am not immortal, and my senses tell me that my powers already weaken.”

Anger swelled in the voice of Trakanon, as his avatar began to pace. “It is not enough that they imprison me on that desolate island, never to feel the lift of air under my wings again! At least Nagafen and Vox are prisoners in their own environments, born of fire and ice themselves. It is beyond cruel to trap a sky dragon in the bowels of darkness. I had brilliant blue scales once upon an age, and could sweep across the entire continent within a sunset. Now, thanks to magics from those accursed iksar, my body is forever covered in boils. Each year, more of my gangrenous flesh sloughs off my bones – slowly I transform into a dragon lich. And yet this still isn’t enough punishment in the eyes of the Gods!”<br>
The being stopped and took a long, slow breath. “No, young Edrilith… the Gods know of my prophecy and seek any way to prevent it, preferably with my death. The appearance of my Chosen one will herald the beginning of the greatest war ever waged on Norrath and the Gods themselves will not be immune to its far-reaching effects! Miragul and Nalikor have passed beyond their reach, but the artifact your father carries remains vulnerable and incredibly desirable. Before I die and pass to the next world, I will impart my power to the bearer of the pendant your father wears, and then my Chosen one will possess the wisdom and strength of one of the most ancient creatures.”<br>
My own problems were forgotten for a moment as I considered the significance of his words. Until that time, I did not completely understand just how extraordinary a thing my father’s dragon pendant was.

“You fear that someone will try to take the pendant?” I surmised.

“I know they will try,” Trakanon replied.

“Can you not stop them?”<br>
The elf shook its head, “I am forbidden by laws written millennia ago. I am a seer and a watcher but no more than that. I am aware of the plans some of Tunaria’s creatures have for my pendant, yet I cannot stop them.” The smiled reappeared. “Yet there is one who will be of help to me. That is you, young Edrilith. In this way, we may help each other.”<br>

[Edrilith]

Again my voice grew useless, for I could not imagine how someone such as I could possibly help a dragon.

“Your captors, these Gal’Saris dark elves, have just learned of your father’s death from the lords of Neriak. The dark elf city devises ways to intercept Edril’s body along his sea voyage to Faydwer. Your captors, however, are even more ambitious. The Gal’Saris desire the pendant. They feel they can rival the power of the Neriak with it. Ah, Innoruk must be so pleased, hearing all this talk of grave robbing!”<br>
“But… what can I do?”<br>
“You must accompany them, Edrilith. You have a part to play in all of this and so you must wait. So the visions have told me.”<br>
A scowl crossed my features, as I felt a twinge of anger bite into me. Then I shouted at the dragon’s avatar against my better judgment. “Why should I wait?! This – here and now – is my single best opportunity to escape! I have been awaiting a chance to leave this hell for years, and now you ask such things of me! Why must I continue to be a pawn in the game of those around me?”<br>
The elf being smiled sadly. “Yes, that is how it might seem but escape is not possible. You see, they already plan to bring you with them to Fayspires. The High Priestess thinks on it even now. They would pursue and capture you if you try to escape. Trust me, your chance will come but it is not this day. Your part in this tale is not done.”<br>
I nodded, resigning myself to lingering once more. Besides, this would be the last chance I would have to ever see my father.

“I encourage you to walk along your intended path to the boulder near the guard post. Take the sack you will find there, conceal it beneath your clothing and return to the Gal’Saris tower. Wait to examine the contents. Take everything with you on your journey to Fayspires, you will need it.”<br>
“Will I escape then?” I asked hopefully.

“Yes,” said the great dragon. “Your life path is meant to take a new road.”<br>
I had to bite my lip to keep from crying. Freedom, a word I had not known for over a decade! Somehow this would all come to pass. I would even finally see the grand city of the high elves.

I looked back at the elf figure, who suddenly seemed to flicker before me. “Hurry, young one… the guard will return soon and Saxil’s shouting nears its end. Expect the High Priestess to send for you tonight and to tell you pieces about a journey beyond these borders. Good luck, Edrilith.” The elf vanished.

In the forest around me, I suddenly noticed the sound of wind moving through the trees. I heard the far distant creaking of the rope bridge that spanned the Green Rift chasm. Whatever magic I had just been witness to seemed to have slowed the passage of time itself.

I sprinted up the side of the valley, moving towards the guard tower. After a bit of digging around the leaves ringing the boulder, I found the sack Trakanon had mentioned. As instructed, I resisted the urge to sift through it contents. It was small enough to tuck into my jerkin. A quick look around confirmed no patrols nearby, and I jogged back down the hill, into the main Gal’Saris compound.

The ever-present guards stationed outside the tower did not meet my gaze as I passed through the door. Being the pet of the High Priestess had a few advantages. I stopped briefly to listen to the chants emanating from the great chamber, where the magic-users stood hand-in-hand in a circle around the scrying pool. Then I headed up the winding stairs to my room.

I waited beside my open door for a few minutes to confirm that I hadn’t been followed. Satisfied, I closed the heavy wooden door and sat upon my bed. A golden rope had been tied around the opening of the sack, and its knot was difficult to manage from being out in the elements. Eventually I was able to loosen it, and I pitched the contents of the sack on my bed.

I gasped when I saw what risk Tsekar had taken for me. The sack held at least two dozen precious gemstones. There were some loose tunar, and a crude map of the surrounding regions. There were also three shiny, silver rings -- they looked much like the invisibility rings my mother had once made. Most impressive of all was the beautiful golden dagger, its entire handle encrusted with rubies.

True to Trakanon’s word, the High Priestess summoned me to her chambers later that evening. She trailed soft kisses down my neck as she told me of a journey she planned to undertake. She mentioned how much she would enjoy having me along. Somehow I managed nothing more than a polite smile and nod. She could not know that her words mirrored what the dragon said, when he had foreseen my freedom.

The beautiful dark elf was pleased with my acquiescence and was quick to demonstrate her feelings. And for the first time since she had taken me as her own, I allowed myself to enjoy it.

[Edrilith]

A small caravan set out from House Gal’Saris two days later. It boasted five of the family’s finest Dragoon warriors, including the vicious Ziliq. The mighty fighter’s left eyelid now drooped slightly, ever since his encounter with the High Priestess. The High Priestess herself was joined by a wizard, another priestess and two enchantresses to make up a powerful caste of magic-users. I was the final element of the plan, though I had not been told of my ultimate role in it.

This group had been carefully selected for the task ahead. The enchantresses were a particularly crucial part, as they would be responsible for ensuring that everyone remained under elven guise during the journey. After leaving the Green Rift, we stayed far to the west of Neriak, not wanting to arouse suspicions by crossing paths with any of its patrols. After the dark elf city was safely behind us, our path turned towards Klick Anon.

From time to time, I forgot about the band of miscreants around me and simply enjoyed the sights. It was such a relief to look up and see different trees for the first time in years. Once in the distance, I was fairly certain that I had seen one of the outer defensive walls of the gnome city. It made me reflect on the times when Tsekar and I had traded stories. I had told him of the great cities of Qeynos and Highbourne, and the shimmering colors reflected on the endless expanse of the western ocean. The dark elf had shared tales of the few trips he had made to Klick Anon and even to sinful Freeport. Once while on a raid, Tsekar had viewed the ivory towers of Fayspires from a distance. Despite himself, he admitted to being impressed by their beauty. Soon it would be my turn to finally see them for myself.

The first major objective in the High Priestess’ scheme was to intercept a high-ranking clan of elves that were making their way to Fayspires. By assuming the identity of these individuals, she expected that we would be able to gain a private audience in Edril’s viewing chamber. The scouts had assured us that it would not be difficult to deal with this group of elves. They were blinded by wealth and power, and even their personal guards and spellcasters seemed jaded about the dangers of the road. They likely thought that they were safe, being but a few hours travel from Kara Village.

Our troupe, meanwhile, traveled swiftly and silently towards them. Soon enough, we could hear the sound of their melodic voices as we came upon the stately procession. One female voice was raised in song, while others were absorbed in conversation and occasional laughter. The warrior guards among them traveled on foot, their swords tucked into their scabbards, while the family sat comfortably atop their beautiful white horses.

While the Gal’Saris casters remained behind, the Dragoon elves rode up amongst the unsuspecting family. A few moments of friendly conversation turned to screams as swords flashed silver and then red. The Dragoons cut through the elvish casters first, and then methodically murdered the remaining warriors and family members. The white flanks of the horses ran red with the blood of their former masters. The High Priestess and her group did not even need to sully themselves in the slaughter.

The dead elves were dragged into the surrounding woods and piled on top of one another, unburied. Their skittish horses were set free to be hunted by prowling wolves. The two enchantresses had memorized the bloody faces of the elf family and set to work transforming us to look like them, even down to their clothing. I was made to resemble a young warrior elf, with long white-blonde hair braided down my back. The High Priestess took the place of the elven matron, while the Tier Dal wizard Jhakal was conjured to resemble the family’s former patron. Hours later, as we strode into Kara Village, the inhabitants treated us as if we were the contingent bearing the beloved Elwing and Llorimir Findel. Guards bowed before the fiends, and the High Priestess even deigned to wave to the onlookers.

[Edrilith]

The great city of the High Elves was about an hour travel from Kara Village, and we assumed the same leisurely pace as the former elf family. The lands here were lush and gently sloped, quite a contrast from the volcanic scenery surrounding Klick Anon and Neriak. When we were far from any guard towers and passing elves, the High Priestess gathered us to her for some final instructions.

“You shall all wait outside the central building until you are invited to join us. Jhakal and I shall meet with them and speak the proper words of mourning. The Findels are… were of consequence, and so it will be that we will see the dead elf lord in private. My warriors, you will dispatch the chamber guardians. Pair yourselves up with them, and do the acts as quickly and as silently as possible. We move through the heart of the enemy, and do not want to draw any unnecessary attention.” She addressed the casters in the group. “Jhakal, Mjoran and Razia… concentrate on keeping the doors barred to those who might wish to enter. We shall need time to retrieve the amulet.”<br>
Finally, her gaze turned to me. It was strange to see her intense blue eyes, knowing angry red ones hid beneath them. “Edrilith… I need you to take the amulet from your father. You will keep it until I tell you to hand it to me. Then on my command, Jhakal’s teleportation spell shall return us to our tower.”<br>
I puzzled over her strange instructions, as her attention was drawn away by questions from the younger priestess. Why would I need to hold onto the amulet? After all this planning, and knowing how desperately she wanted it, why did she not wish to take the artifact for herself?