Escape from Anebrilith

[Sagequeen]

A tortured scream of rage burst forth from Arienne's lips; a thin, swirling column of blue flame coursed within the core of her exhalation. Arms splayed before her, Arienne lunged forward, intent on closing the long gap between them and grabbing the elf. Erissa remained on her stool as she focused quickly on Arienne's left foot. The incensed woman, already off balance, tripped and cratered to the ground, face first, in an inebriated heap.

"Look at what you have become," Erissa hissed in rebuke, "and hang your head in shame." Arienne crawled onerously forward, the front of her dress catching and snagging on the rough floor. Blood and tears streaked down her face, following the lines etched there by the intensity of her hatred.

"You've no idea what I've become," Arienne said with a visceral edge, still on all fours like an animal.

"Keep the gold," Erissa said as she rose from her stool, gathering her things, "and your life. Live in the misery of your own making; I needn't lift a finger." Erissa turned her back on Arienne and walked to the front of the tavern. She opened the door and stepped out, only to be heaved forward by a whooshing bolt of flame. As the pungent scent of burning cloth registered with her, Erissa hastily slipped out of the heavy cloak and tossed it away. The sound of maniacal laughter drifted from inside The Dark Horse. Osher barked wildly and let loose a growl, aroused by Erissa's trouble.

"Self-righteous cur," Arienne said as she staggered out of the tavern. Night accentuated her already dark features and lent her an air of eeriness. "The darkness is my domain, and it has whispered powerful secrets in my sleep." Osher cowered behind Erissa as Arienne's incantation began, echoing across the wide, empty square.

"Where life has fled and grave-worms writhe
Let bone be joined and sinew tithe
Against the debt that owns thy soul
Obey ye now and pay thy toll
For crossing o'er that river gray
Ne'er again to see the day."

Erisssa cried out in dismay, realizing Arienne was not bluffing in her earlier declaration. The dry crust of ground began to break and writhe before her as it gave birth to its dead. Fingers groped and clawed at her feet, sending Erissa running to the tightly-laid cobblestone nearby. Scores of grotesquely malformed creatures rendered of bone and withered flesh broke free from their prisons of dirt and staggered forward; Erissa clutched her staff before her, hoping to ward off the evil. She could hear the dry, slow scraping against the cobblestones beneath her feet. Erissa let loose a scream as the horrors closed in around her. She swung her staff wildly, shattering one here and another there; the spell that knit the undead together was weak and the abominations toppled like dry reeds. Arienne was quickly growing weary; after only a few moments the creatures of her creation broke asunder, disjointed and lifeless again. When Osher saw the surrounding nightmares fail, he tucked his tail and bolted for the alley.

Arienne doubled over, her energy spent for the moment. Erissa was dumbfounded by the display of power and backed away slowly; she tripped and fell among the bones, to her great terror. Arienne began cackling again. From her bodice she removed a small, rune-engraved divining rod. She dropped to her knees and plunged the sharp end into the dirt.

"My vows I made, by blood constrained,
Now manifest, from Hell unchained.
Possess the bones that lay below,
And lend thy aid against my foe."

The very ground beneath them began to rumble and groan; a hellish screech arose from abysmal depths, muffled but moving ever closer.

[Sagequeen]

"What have you done?" Erissa screamed, scrambling to her feet.

"I have become powerful," Arienne said with unnerving calmness as she swayed in the rumblings of a coming tempest; the sheer energy created a column of wind around her that tossed and twirled her hair and garments.

"But this power is not your own! What have you loosed upon us?" Erissa cried. The two were thrown down as the terrain shrieked and heaved. An immense, clawed appendage burst forth into the open air, flinging chunks of dirt and cobblestone across the square. Another set of claws surfaced with equal force, and they gripped down tightly as the monstrosity pulled itself from the ground's bosom. Between the sets of claws the earth buckled upward to reveal the skull of a drake. The beast quaked and jerked itself free; ragged tatters of petrified, scaly skin clung to the ossified bones like malevolent standards of a forgotten apocalypse. The skeletal drake, many times taller than a man, cast its eyeless gaze upon Arienne.

"Senseless mortal." The demon's voice materialized from nowhere and grated like brimstone, though as if from a great distance. "I have accepted thine invitation, though thou hath not the will to command me. Didst thou mistake me for a lesser being?" With incredible quickness the long neck straightened as the beast's head darted forth, taking Arienne into its gaping maw. The great jaws flung open and closed, crushing her as the demon attempted to impale her with the drake's few remaining teeth. Arienne was juggled around and finally slipped through the hole in the drake's bottom jaw down onto the ground; she lay unmoving until she was swatted aside by jagged claws. "Thy torments will be greater should I allow thee to live in undeath. Thou shalt return to me humbled."

Erissa was immobilized with incredible dread as she watched the lumbering beast across the chasm from which it emerged. The remains of great wings rattled like dead branches as it turned to face her; Erissa did not escape the demon's notice. The lengthy tail swept along the shabby storefronts, demolishing them.

"Great pleasure I shall have in destroying thee, lightbearer. I sense the power in thy blood, an inversion of my own." The demon began to move the dragon's bones around the chasm. "But thou art weak, and I am not." Dislodged from her stupor, Erissa sprang to her feet and moved to keep the chasm between her and the demon-possessed skeleton. Erissa could feel the pulsating power of the demon; at its edge her own began. Like magnetic poles, she felt the push and pull of his potency; she was grossly outmatched and his ascendancy closed in on her at all sides. As the demon quickened his pace and closed the circumference, Erissa hurdled over debris as she ringed the gaping hole.

"Thy games amuse me not," the livid demon shouted. He whipped the dragon's tail across the ground, hurling dislodged cobblestones in Erissa's direction. A smaller chunk caught her shoulder and she tumbled at the edge of the pit. Erissa floundered as she attempted to get back on her feet; the loose dirt and chunks of stone gave way beneath her and she fought to find solid ground once again. The demon moved quickly; the dragon's skull loomed above her, and a vicious laugh pierced her ears. The skull opened in a deathly yawn, poised to clamp down on her as she struggled from the lip of the chasm. Aware of the imminent danger, she hurled herself aside and managed to dodge the narrow snout of the beast as the demon struck. The tumble left her on her back, so Erissa extended both arms and released a bolt of holy light, temporarily blinding the demon's senses and causing him to recoil the dragon's bones. She frantically crawled beneath the drake's ribcage. The enraged demon brought the body of the dragon down against the ground with great force, splintering some of the ribs, but he could not crush Erissa. She steadied herself and leaped upward, catching the spinal column; she quickly wrapped her arms and legs around it in a loathing embrace. The demon repeatedly slammed the drake's bones into the ground; shattered fragments were sent flying across the square.

"Thy strength shall wane before mine," the demon said as he shook the battered frame of the beast. "And yet, thy embrace is enticing. Cling to me in thy great fear, mortal. Until thou shalt falter and break this stalemate, perhaps thou wouldst entertain a proposition. My power is great, and I may grant a portion of it to whomever I wish. Thou could be a queen, little elf, a powerful queen among mortals. If thou should tire of such triviality, thou may join me as my concubine. Pleasures untold wouldst await thee." Erissa clung tightly to him as tears squeezed from her eyes. Her stomach churned from the acrid powders flaking from the bones, and her spirit very nearly broke under the weight of the demon's will.

"The pleasure of a demon is torment and pain," she cried out, "and I would sooner go to a fate unknown than bind myself to you!"

"Very well, lightbearer. I shall see thee swiftly away," the demon ranted, jolting the bones back and forth. For what seemed a grueling eternity, the skeleton leaped and bucked at the demon's whim; Erissa finally lost her grip. The breath was knocked from her as she bounced inside the remainder of the ribcage, and she was finally hurled aside near the entrance of The Dark Horse.

"The rod," a weak voice called out, "pull the rod from the ground. Break the link." Arienne lay broken, cast against the wall of the tavern. Erissa searched frantically among the bones and cobblestones where she witnessed Arienne drive the rod into the ground. The demon turned to face Erissa and willed the drake's bones to leap forward. Yet even as he pounced, his control over them was severed; the skeleton collided against the ground in a bedlam of disarray. Erissa was assaulted and bruised by the smaller bones catapulted at her, and in a pelting rain of dirt, the skull grated to a halt mere inches from her feet. The demon's ferocious shriek became a dwindling wail as he was drawn back to his realm.

The silence was deafening in the wake of the chaos that had just transpired. Anxious faces appeared in windows and doors, hopeful the threat had passed. A few bravely stepped into the gloom to see for themselves the source of the voice they heard pierce the night in defiance of evil. In her hand was the divining rod; Erissa handled it gingerly as she slipped it into one of her pockets. A fit of sickly coughing caught Erissa's attention and she remembered Arienne. Erissa rushed to her side.

"I can heal you," Erissa said gently as she knelt beside her.

"Mercy," Arienne whispered, shaking her head. The dark pact had already begun to mend her many wounds in undeath. "I have sacrificed hope on the altar of power and have found that only despair remains. That hope still lives elsewhere is an unbearable torment." Understanding, Erissa focused her power and released it into Arienne's body. The demon to whom Arienne had made her secret vows would not abide the holy and pure magic Erissa imbued into the woman's body, so it quietly stole away Arienne's soul from the vessel, leaving death in its place.

From Arienne's neck, Erissa gently removed a sapphire necklace and placed it around her own.

[Sagequeen]

"Well, you were no help at all," Erissa said to the dog at her side, though she was very relieved he had returned to her after the previous night's ado. The two navigated the streets in Underwood's oldest and decidedly most elven section, following Rora's directions to the home of Troyas, a master of the arcane. When she arrived at an expansive mansion boasting huge, marble columns that bore the weight of a high balcony, there was little doubt she had found the place; weathered but elegant runes were carved along the length the door frame and upon each column granting it exceptional strength. As she raised her hand to knock on the imposing door, it opened inward on well-oiled hinges.

"I felt your arrival, Dear One. Please, do come in," said the ancient high elf, his grey hair sweeping the gold flecked cincture across his hips. Troyas extended a silk-clad arm in welcome, inviting her into the foyer. His face was eternally youthful, though it seemed only a convenient camouflage; the very air surrounding him exuded the amassed experience of countless epochs of existence. He led her into another time, it appeared, frozen and unchanging without respect for any clock or calendar. Impeccably clean, the rooms were packed with a veritable forest of tomes, maps, and secret knowledge that tantalized any scholar with the very scent of the aged paper upon which it was recorded.

As they passed into the formal entertaining area, the air in contact with the ceiling became luminous. The warm golden glow was the glory of morning, like the first few hours of daylight, and the sense of calm was inexorable. With a wave of his hand, he beckoned a tray to serve them, and it bore delightful warm tea and perfectly toasted apricot tarts. Erissa gladly accepted the refreshments and Osher found, to his doggish delight, a dried, rolled rawhide that he gnawed contentedly at her feet.

"The rumblings in Underwood were great as the night passed, but you already know the source. You carry with you a trinket capable of great mischief, Erissa. Why have you brought it here?" Troyas asked knowingly.

"It must be destroyed," Erissa answered quickly. "Or it might fall into other hands."

"Yes," Troyas said. "But it already has fallen into other hands. Do you not want this power for yourself?" Erissa looked at him curiously.

"No," she answered, with assured finality.

"That is good," he replied. "Would you believe I haven not the power to destroy this paltry toy?" He laughed. "All my years and I have not acquired the simple ability necessary, but it is no matter. It is one you already possess!" Troyas laughed gently at Erissa's surprise. He held a finger in the air in a gesture for her to wait as he grasped a tome from the small table near his chair. Troyas thumbed speedily through the pages. "Ah! Here it is. You need only recite the verse as we break the rod in twain, like a wishbone, you see. Place the single end in the bowl of salt between us." No sooner had he spoken the words than a vessel placed itself on the second small table. Erissa accepted the tome and removed the divining rod from her hip pocket. She placed the end of the rod into the bowl of salt, and each of the two grasped a protruding prong. Erissa read from the tome.

By salt and light thy bond I break,
No evil ever more to wake.
The soul that made thee did depart,
So work no more thine old black art.

Snap! The rod broke between them, releasing a small, black miasma. Troyas seemed pleased and pointed to Erissa's larger piece.

"This, Dear One, is not an effective ward, but you will find its great worth in that it will reveal demon and demon-bound to you. When it sings and trembles, you shall know danger is nearby; the higher the pitch the stronger the demon. Keep it with you." Troyas held his small piece aloft, and a greenish flame consumed it from his hand leaving only ash and a wisp of smoke.

"Thank you," Erissa said, slipping the defunct rod back in her hip pocket. Troyas gave a slight nod.

"On to other matters," he said, catching Erissa's complete attention. She had expected to be sent on her way with the current plight resolved. "I extend an invitation to you, Erissa Alanorah. Stay with me a while, and allow me to instruct you in the magicks that have recently awakened within you. I will be quite pleased to do so; it is not often I meet one with a holy calling these days. I shall also enjoy the company." Erissa nodded in astonishment, quick to confirm such an opportunity. "Very good! First, I must hide you." Erissa wondered at the meaning of his statement, but he offered no answer. He stood and chanted over her, waving his arms slowly. She felt nothing.

"Hide me?" She asked finally. Troyas nodded solemnly.

"I have heard whispers of late. It would seem the daughter of a rather important figure in Anebrilith has gone missing; it is presumed she was kidnapped by a mercenary. A man named Virlas, I was told." Troyas paused deliberately. "Not a day ago did your father's agent knock at my door, asking for my aid in seeking you. It seemed harmless enough, but a simple probing of his mind revealed the truth in its entirety to me. I sent him on his way with false reassurances. None will know you are here, and none will know you have been here, unless, of course, you have already revealed your identity to one who might benefit from sharing it." Troyas sat again in his chair and rested against the high back. Erissa was on the edge of her seat.

"Oh no..." she said miserably. "If they find Virlas, there is no guessing what my father will do!"

"I can protect him, for a time, if you have a token of his; at the very least something he has touched. Forgive me, but I can see from your recent memories that he was very good to you and worth the effort on my part, but I am unable to get a clear sense of him. The impressions are deeply entangled with another you loved dearly."

"I have this," she said, gesturing toward her staff that rested against the doorway of the room, "and this." She brought her hand to the sapphire pendant around her neck. "The staff was a part of my loom. He helped assemble it. The necklace," she paused, "it was a gift. I know not where he acquired it."

"Bring them both to me," Troyas said. Erissa collected the staff and removed the necklace, offering them to her fellow elf who hummed gently as he examined the items. "Ah yes, excellent craftsmanship! The wood came from Concordia and a master has worked it, though it bears no enchantment. I am able to get a sense of Virlas; I can almost hear your shared laughter! And the necklace, I can tell you it has only been worn by one other, the girl Arienne. Before that: yes, I see his face. I sense his joy and anticipation as he selected this necklace for you, someone he cared about... as if it were someone he already knew!" Troyas stopped short, curious of his own revelation. Changing the subject, he continued. "This will be sufficient. I need not put you through the uncomfortable process of reading your deeper memories."

As Troyas stood again, the air was sucked from the room and the radiant light dimmed to a subtle glow. Erissa felt a tingling sensation that heightened to a shimmering resonance as Troyas began his chant. At his final word, the displaced air returned in a gentle breeze that ruffled the many scrips surrounding them.

"It is done," Troyas said. "Rarely do I cast magic upon the unwitting, but this is an acceptable exception."

"Can you-" Erissa hesitated and looked deeply into his eyes, "can you tell me where he is?"

"I can." Silence.

"Will you?" She asked, breathless.

"Perhaps. First things first, Erissa. Lesson one: No matter the situation, there is a perfect spell for it."

[Sagequeen]

The Tracker's Hunt

Grason, the man employed by Ellear, drained his mug at The Peaceful Promenade, enjoying a rest before his journey east to Jadet. His search for Erissa in Underwood had proven very unfruitful. He and his men had followed dead leads for weeks around Raiaera, so by the time they realized Erissa had fled the land entirely, memories at the port were fuzzy. From the information Grason was able to glean, she had indeed boarded a vessel, though the destination none could say for certain. So Grason had sent his trackers on every possible route; Ellear had spared no expense to recover his only child. On a hunch he felt was proving rotten, Grason had come to Underwood himself. The old elf he visited the previous day had no information for him; Ellear had overestimated Troyas' ability in locating her. Still, like a thorn embedded in his subconscious, his thoughts returned to the innkeeper. If she were lying, then her part was well played, but Grason was nagged by the tiniest spark of recognition he thought he saw in Rora's eyes. He heaved a heavy yawn and walked to the bar for a final inquiry.

"Your ale is superb," he complimented the barkeeper, speaking loudly so those all around could hear. "I wonder if you might help me? I am looking for the kidnapped daughter of a High Bard Councillor, Erissa Caedron. About this tall," he raised his hand to shoulder height, "white hair and green-blue eyes?" The bartender grunted and shrugged as he wiped down the bar, but a pointed set of ears perked at Grason's words.

"Perhaps I may be of assistance to the most noble Councillor," the brown-haired high elf said as he flipped the side of his cloak over his shoulder with practiced flourish. "I saw her, two nights ago, in this very tavern."

******************************

Thanks for reading the second chapter of Erissa's story!

Requested Spoils: The cleansed trinket that discloses demon and demon-bound. The sapphire necklace: it doesn't do anything special... yet. The water-resistant satchel she purchased for 7 gold pieces, which includes basic traveling supplies.

[Amen]

Escape from Anebrilith by Sagequeen

This will be a condensed rubric judgment as per your request, so I’ll do my absolute best not to gush too much.

Plot Construction: 28/30

This had everything an excellent short story needs. Your protagonist is likable, your antagonist is believable and tragic, and your setting is well fleshed out. The ending satisfied and made me want more. Everything was driven by your character in a realistic and compelling way, and you managed to impose feelings on me as a reader. The bit with Rora and Erissa and the then-unnamed puppy in the common room by a roaring fire especially comes to mind.

Characterization: 28/30

In terms of continuity, everything was consistent, and any growth in your characters was logical. I wish we’d had more time to see Arienne’s sorrow and possible redemption - but then, that’s life, not a flaw in your story. This absolutely meshes with Althanas canon, you did well to keep the civil war in mind throughout and you’ve done your homework. You’ve begun expanding upon the concept of song magic here, creating something subtle but intriguing in the sequence with Arienne in The Dark Horse.

Let me pause here and say, I’m a blood and guts guy. When I’m in the mood for a short story, I reach for Robert E. Howard. If there’s going to be elves, I want orcs hitting them in the head with big sticks. The thing is, your stories thus far have transcended that just on the merit of being good reads. This story made me like Underwood, an area I’ve always found terminally boring, it made me want to defend Erissa in the tavern brawl (without diminishing my respect for her), and it made me curious about song magic. You’re asking me to go from axes to song magic, and you’re making a compelling argument. That’s good writing!

Writing Style: 29/30

I picked out a grand total of one mechanical error. Clarity was spot on, I never had to go back and reread anything. And you are a brilliant writer. I feel like I should make the token comment about advanced literary techniques (“try to use more metaphors!”) because that’s sort of my job, but personally? I don’t think I have a lot of room to talk, and I’m not expecting Catcher in the Rye or The Great Gatsby from even the best fantasy short story. If you were shooting for the next Great American Novel in 8,000 words or less, sorry.

Wildcard: 10

Okay, on the one hand, I feel kind of bad because I didn’t offer much criticism here, and I have a feeling I'm going to get yelled at for giving you the score I'm giving you. If we’re being totally honest, I think you’re a writer of equal or better skill than me, and you’re certainly a better storyteller than I am. On the other, I got to read an awesome story and give you an awesome score. Perhaps someday you’ll convince me to write a friendlier character and we can do a thread together, but until then I’ll content myself with reading whatever Erissa gets herself into next. I sincerely look forward to it.

Total: 95

Sagequeen gains 1330 EXP and 200 GP.

Spoils:

- A trinket that reveals demons and the demon-bound
- A sapphire necklace
- A water-resistant satchel plus traveling supplies

[Letho]

EXP/GP added. Sagequeen, welcome to the next level.