The World Falls with Us

[Raelyse]

[Closed to participants who signed up here. This quest takes part just prior to FQ Part 1 and will roll on to FQ Part 2]

There were not enough fingers on his hand to count how many things Raelyse had given up to ensure the success of his mission. Luxuries like food, water and rest served as only hindrances to his success in a situation where failure would be unspeakable. He could not stop, he could not even slow down. Every moment he delayed was another moment that jeopardized all he cared about. His eyes looked ever forward, half in determination to reach his destination and half out of fear of what he knew was stalking behind him.

His horse had long ago given out, collapsing in fatigue never to awake again. Raelyse had driven it on with such vigor that its legs had just gave out. He was only a few hours out of the Red Forest and his goal of Anebrilith was considerably further away now that leather boots, not iron clad hooves was his mode of transportation. In another time, he might have sworn or threw a tantrum. That thought did pass his mind for a moment, but he quickly dismissed it and pushed on forward.

He had to get to Anebrilith, he had to tell them to mobilize for what was coming. Not too long ago, Raelyse had seen what was without a doubt, the second rising of the undead. They were coming and they were coming in great numbers. He had only glanced at the tip of their powers and even that frightened him. The only other who had survived the sight of the horrors that had emerged in the Red Forest was Findelfin ap Fingolfin. The two had agreed that they would ride to opposite ends of Raiaera and get ready the people for the torrent that was about to sweep across the land.

Raelyse could not help but look back every few minutes, in fear that the undead would come barreling out of the Red Forest at any time and swallow him in their vast waves. On his steed, the wind had blown in his face with such force that it was difficult for him to keep his eyes fully open. But now, his eyes opened much too easily for his liking.

In the moments where his wits were about him, Raelyse could not help but silently jest was what he had become. He was being too altruistic for his usual selfish self. There was a time not at all long ago when he would not do so much as bat an eyelash to help those that would not later help him. But in his time in Raiaera and, the Myrusian had grown fond of the elves, their majestic culture and their beautiful home. The undead threatened all that and while the temptation to run and forsake the elves was always on his mind, he never paid it much heed.

Raelyse did console his ego in the fact that when the time came that the undead did advance on Anebrilith, he would be at the forefront of the city’s defense. Bards would sing and tales would tell for generations of the hero Raelyse, who readied every sword in Anebrilith.

When the walls of the port city eventually came into his line of vision, the Myrusian could not help but smile and imagine himself standing in front of its gates, with every elf in Anebrilith behind him. For that image to make sense though, Raelyse would have to think of the limitless undead that were standing on the other end of the battlefield.

And just the thought of that was enough for him to draw on his second wind and sprint for the city.

[Elrundir]

“It has been long since I looked upon my homeland. Yet now the sun sets on her glory…”

A solitary elf stood on the plains just south of a grand city, staring westward at a smattering of small hills just on the horizon. The sun was sinking fast beneath their bosom, casting a melancholy orange-red glow throughout the sky. It was a herald, the elf knew, of danger and death which continued to knock at Raiaera’s door.

Standing so close to the rusted jewel Anebrilith, Elrundir wondered whether even this ancient piece of high elven heritage would remain after Xem'zûnd’s slaughter. Would Eluriand fall against the necromancer’s vast hoards, or would his old friend Varalad and the rest of the High Bard Council prove their worth against the greatest darkness the elven people have ever known?

The slender elf refused to trouble himself with thoughts of guilt – of whether things might have been different had he not been in solitude during the country’s recent trials. He was powerful, but not so arrogant as to believe his mere presence could have turned the tide of this war. And yet… he now felt something stirring in the aether. Raiaera was balanced precariously this time, and even the slightest nudge could tip its hand toward victory or defeat. If his magic would help bring about the former, then Elrundir was willing to lend it.

Ah, but at what cost?

“Yes… I feel it, too. A great shadow descends upon us.” The elf was speaking softly into the wind, his voice barely carried beyond the blades of grass that surrounded him and falling on no one’s ears but theirs. “But my foresight fails me, blinded by this expanding darkness. For once, I cannot see whether we shall endure.” His face was steeled and drained of emotion; it appeared hardened by the fading rays of the sun, which cast shadows across his chiselled, elegant features.

It was the sharp cry of a bird overhead that drew the elf’s attention from his western vigil. He turned southward and looked toward the sky to see a tiny cardinal bearing towards him with all the speed she could have possibly mustered. Elrundir extended a slender, gloved hand, and the bird alighted on it, whereupon she stared at him intently.

Moments later, Rouge fluttered over to his shoulder, and Elrundir let his arm fall as his eyes fell toward the southern horizon. “I see him, dear Rouge,” he told his familiar, and reached back to stroke her chest. A figure had appeared there, dashing toward them with a speed that might have rivalled the cardinal’s. “A messenger of death. The axe is poised to fall now, Rouge, as we knew it must. Let us prepare to blunt its edge.”

With a fluttering of his dark robes, Elrundir turned his body to face the approaching Raelyse and paced toward him. Soon he would meet the man who so desperately wished to force his name into history’s pages.

[Raelyse]

The gates of Anebrilith grew more and more lucid with each of Raelyse’s springing forward lunges, his powerful legs catapulting him forward with speed motivated from new found purpose. His eyes were solely trained forward now, imagining the grand sight of those massive doors parting to welcome him into their city. Optimism crept into his psyche, reminding him of the glories and rewards he would soon receive. Raiaera had always known how to treat its heroes and if the Myrusian were to spread news of the impending threat, then surely he would be regarded as one.

Just as the thoughts of grandeur were at their zenith, something wavered within him. It was a strange feeling, one that was reminiscent of a telepathic call reaching out to him. His feet slowed from a sprint to a jog before eventually halting. Raelyse turned around, half expecting this strange beacon to call out to him again. It took a moment for him to realize that it was not his ears or any of his other five senses that had been stimulated; it was his sixth, the one sense which alerted him to the presence of powerful magic. If this magic, as conspicuous as a signal fire ablaze at midnight, had originated from Anebrilith, then he would not worry, but this one was from behind him.

Raelyse turned sharply, pulling his long sword, Ilrathion from his belt as he did so. Brandishing the sheathed weapon with menace, he looked around, his magical sense attempting to guide his sense of sight. He held his weapon in a defensive stance, wary of any coming attacks.

“Show yourself!” the Myrusian bellowed, knowing that if it was the undead that he suspected were stalking him, his cry attempting intimidation would fail.

Fortunately for him, it was not the anticipated swarms but a lone figure that he saw approach. There was no rush in the movement. In fact, there was almost a sense of calm in the way he walked. Raelyse knew that this meant nothing. The undead and their masters came in all shapes and forms. The disguise of a living being was certainly not past their limits of the remarkable energy that he radiated as he gradually moved forwards. It was this fact that kept Raelyse on the balls of his feet. If his first act defending Anebrilith was now, he was ready.

“Stop where you are!” he shouted, his voice steady. His left hand came across to pull the sheath from his long sword before discarding it to the ground. The magnificent blade of Ilrathion glimmered like an artful masterpiece, but in Raelyse’s skilled hands, it hovered perilously about him with finesse and danger.

The Myrusian took a step forward; his left hand sliding behind his back readying offensive magic as the figure continued his forward movement. Raelyse turned his head backwards and took a glance at Anebrilith, before turning his attention back to the apparent threat he saw advancing upon it.

“One more chance,” Raelyse said, quieter and more calm this time, though there was an ominous tone in his voice. “Stop of your own will.”

[Elrundir]

The prince’s words floated easily on the wind, but they did not impede Elrundir’s progress at first. He continued his advance, slow and unthreatening, but most of all undaunted, cool eyes fixed sharply on his target. He could already sense the fear pumped through Raelyse’s veins by his overactive heart; it was obvious in the man’s words that he saw every other living thing as a threat.

His march continued, and Elrundir gradually became more certain that this new arrival would not attack him. At the very least, he had to repeat his command thrice before the elf finally took it seriously, stopping within conversational earshot of the young prince. He shook some silvery hair from his face, and then stared down the man once more.

“You waste your threats on me,” he cautioned. “Surely you don’t believe the forces of the dark one would assume a form so base, so repulsive to them as that of an elf?” It was logical enough a conclusion; the undead had spent elven generations waging war against the people of this country, but they were neither intelligent nor tactful enough to understand the benefits of espionage. Xem’zûnd was, certainly; but to him, his forces were nothing more than black pawns on a giant chessboard, expendable and overwhelming in number.

The elf tilted his head back and to the left, as if to appear sceptical of Raelyse. “But I might demand the same of you, traveller. It is suspicious, is it not, that you emerge intact from the Red Forest, so close to the Obsidian Spire? You could be a spy, for all I know.” He shook his head, gesturing vaguely with his free left hand. “And here you stand, threatening me, a Raiaeran national – of all the impudence.” Despite the arrogance of the statement itself, his tone lacked the same quality, almost like he was enjoying a little joke of his own.

“But I know the dark one better than that,” he added, his head shaking slowly. “He lacks the subtlety necessary for such deception – and even if he did, he would choose a far more suitable form to infiltrate Anebrilith than that of a human.” Elrundir began to turn north again, his back now to Raelyse but his voice as clear as ever. “I must conclude then that you are either an unfortunate soul who chose the wrong place for a hike, or an ally who brings word of the darkness that will soon overwhelm us. And if indeed you are the latter, I sorely doubt you have time to waste standing around here while it follows at your tail.”

With his piece spoken, Elrundir began a slow march back toward Anebrilith. This new ally’s resolve was admirable, he concluded, but they would need far more than that to win the war that was raging across the nation. It was time for the young prince Raelyse to put his words to action, and then the elf would see if his assessment had been correct.