“Callius, you must know how urgent it is for us to create a permanent means of communication with our new dwarven and human allies.”

  “I do, Elder,” Callius replied with a quick bow.

  “Good. Then I urge you to get to work immediately and set up the link that you told us about. That must be a priority now. Do you still believe that you can do it?”

  “Yes, Elder.”

  “Excellent. Then I will leave it in your hands. Malfiess, oversee the operation and report back to me when it is done.”

  “I will do that,” Malfiess assured her.

  Amelda sighed again and slowly looked around the hall.

  “I feel more at home in a place like this than I do anywhere else. Isn't that strange? Well, I may have seen the last of it now and, if that is true, I think that I leave it in good hands.”

  She smiled at Malfiess.

  “We have come a long way, have we not, my friend?” she told him. “I was initially against your appointment to the Council, as you know, but it was not because you were unqualified. It was because you were so young and I have always felt that a Council seat should go to those with the most experience.”

  “I know that,” he replied solemnly. “And I've worked hard to prove my value to you and the rest of the Council.”

  “Well, you overcame my foolish objections with grace and a dedication to our people that I truly admire. Do not lose that, Malfiess. Do not lose focus. The Council must always put the good of the elves above petty, personal concerns. I am sad to say that I did not always do that, but at least I can recognize my own failings now. Don't make the same mistakes that I did.”

  “You are the best leader our people have ever had,” Malfiess told her. “And with all due respect, you do yourself a disservice if you believe otherwise.”

  “You are too kind, my friend,” Amelda told him warmly. “And I thank you for that. Make sure that we have a stable means of reaching our allies. That is your most important duty going forward.”

  She looked at the others.

  “Now, I've put this off long enough. I am going to have to be hoisted up like a sack of grain and carried unceremoniously to my house. My final embarrassment, I suppose. Not the way that I thought this hopeful day would end.”

  “There is no embarrassment in that, Elder,” Othellan assured her. “Your people care greatly for you. They will be relieved to know that you are not as unwell as they feared.”

  “Should I call for help, to transport the Elder back to her home?” Malfiess asked him.

  “That will not be necessary,” Othellan replied. “With your permission, Elder?”

  Amelda smiled up at the Speaker,

  “You've cared for me for many years, old friend,” she told him softly. “Aren't you tired of it yet?”

  “Never, Elder,” Othellan said with great dignity.

  Her smile widened and Amelda nodded at the Speaker. Othellan walked around the conference table. He set aside his staff and carefully scooped the Elder up in his arms, holding her as easily as an adult might hold a child. Orilla hastily arranged her grandmother's robes properly and Amelda looked at her with great affection.

  “Thank you,” she told everyone. “I am grateful for all of your efforts.”

  All of the elves bowed to her and Amelda patted Othellan's arm.

  “Let's get this over with,” she whispered to him.

  “Yes, Elder. Do not fear. I will not let you fall.”

  She rested her head against his shoulder.

  “I know you won't, old friend,” she said, her voice thin with fatigue. “I know.”

  Miriam hurried to the doors of the hall and waited until Othellan had crossed the room before she opened them.

  Orilla followed her grandmother, watching Amelda anxiously as they went outside.

  As they stepped through the doorway, a roar rose from the crowd of elves waiting there. Malfiess smiled as he saw Amelda raise a hand to wave to her people.

  The doors closed and Malfiess and Callius were left alone in the hall.

  “Do you think the Elder will be all right?” the scryer asked nervously.

  Malfiess waved him toward a chair and sat down at his usual place at the end of the table.

  “I wish I could say yes,” he replied, shaking his head. “But Amelda is very old. A thousand Earth years or more. Time did not move at the same pace on Trillfarness as it does on this world, but still she is one of the oldest of our people. And she has always pushed herself beyond her own physical limits, for the good of our race. Now it is catching up to her. I hold out hope that she will recover and lead the Council once again, but I fear that she may not. Time will tell.”

  Callius sat down next to the councilor and looked around the hall blankly.

  “This is nice, but it is so small compared to the chambers atop the spires back home,” he observed.

  Malfiess nodded as he took a moment to rub his eyes and stretch. It had been a long day for everyone involved in the meeting with the other races, not just the Elder, and it was starting to take its toll on him.

  “Yes, but I like it even more,” he replied.

  “Why?” Callius asked curiously. “The spires were ancient. They were a connection to our past and a symbol for our people.”

  “True, but we are getting a fresh start here on Earth. We are creating a new future, not looking back at the past.”

  Malfiess ran his fingers through his long hair and then rested his elbows on the table. He clasped his hands together and stared at the young scryer.

  “This is the world where we began as a race,” he told Callius. “Trillfarness was a gift from the lords of Light, to save our people from the vengeance of the Chao lords for our role in the eternal battle between good and evil. We lived there in peace for thousands of years, but I do not believe that it was meant to be our home forever.”

  “You don't?”

  Callius narrowed his eyes.

  “Why not?” he asked. “We were safe. We were out of the reach of the dark gods. And we were no longer a threat to them.”

  Malfiess smiled at him.

  “Were we not?” he replied. “Callius, our mere existence has always been a threat to evil. Our people are uncorrupted and incorruptible. We were the first mortal race raised by the lords of Light. Our very existence is a threat to the Darkness and it always will be. We will not bend and we will not break, no matter what the Chaos lords do to us.”

  The scryer seemed puzzled and Malfiess sighed a bit impatiently.

  “Come now,” he continued. “Look at how far we have fallen. Our race has been decimated. There are barely a handful of us left, compared to the size of our population just a few months ago. And yet, even after that catastrophe, none of us would even consider surrendering, would we? Not one person.”

  “Well, of course not,” Callius said in confusion. “How could we? The evil gods tried to destroy us. If we surrendered, they would simply finish the job.”

  Malfiess chuckled.

  “Exactly. Even you cannot conceive of bowing to the old gods, because you know them and their true nature. We all do. And that clear sight, that incorruptibility, is what makes them hate us. Well that, and how badly we hurt them back in ancient times. They do tend to hold grudges.”

  He became more serious and sat back in his chair.

  “That is why we needed allies and why we must be able to stay in touch with them at all times. Which is where you come in.”

  Callius nodded slowly.

  “Yes, of course,” he said. “Thank you, Councilor. Now I appreciate the importance of this task even more than I already did.”

  “So, are you prepared to create the link between the three mortal races?”

  The young scryer pushed himself to his feet.

  “Yes sir, I am.”

  Callius turned around and stared at the hall. Then he looked over his shoulder at Malfiess.

  “Would the Council object to the link being located in this hall?” he asked him. “It seems like the best place for it and someone could be stationed here day and night, ready to answer any communication from our new allies.”

  Malfiess stood up as well and moved to stand next to Callius.

  “I think that it is the perfect spot,” he told him. “It will be safe from the elements and it won't be a temptation for any children who are overly curious and want to touch it.”

  “Ah, I hadn't thought of that,” the scryer said with surprise. “Yes, it would be attractive to children, would it not? I have little experience with them, to be honest.”

  Malfiess looked at the young elf with some amusement.

  “Well, no offense, my friend, but you are not that far from childhood yourself, in years. But not in experience, obviously. Now, as a member of the Council and as the one who seems to be in charge of this task, I grant you permission to create your link in this hall. When you are done, I'll find some volunteers and set up a schedule to keep watch over it.”

  “Thank you, sir. Please stand back now. Ley energy is wild and unpredictable. I have some protections against it, but you do not.”

  Malfiess hurriedly moved back around the conference table and stood next to the window behind it.

  Callius positioned himself at the center of the hall. He looked up at the ceiling, which was about twenty feet above his head at that spot, and nodded in satisfaction. His red robe seemed to absorb the sunlight that lit up the room and Malfiess caught his breath. The scryer's robe became the color of clotted blood and the young elf's skin paled as if his own blood was being sucked out of his body into his clothing.

  The scryer bowed his head and stared at the ground beneath his feet. The elves who had constructed the building had cleverly fitted flat stones together to cover the packed earth inside the hall, and Callius seemed to be contemplating those stones as Malfiess watched him nervously.

  Was he lost in thought, the councilor wondered. Or was he reaching deep beneath the surface to connect with the ley lines that were tightly wound around the planet's core?

  Malfiess had no idea. All he did know was that he trusted the young elf to know what he was doing. After all, it was only because of Callius that the remnants of the elven race had managed to escape from Trillfarness to the Earth. If he could do that, Malfiess reasoned, surely he could create a permanent way to connect the elves to the dwarves and the humans. At least the councilor hoped so.

  After standing immobile for several minutes, Callius raised his arms and spread them wide. His eyes were closed and he frowned in concentration.

  “Come now,” he whispered. “I know you are there. I need your help. We need your help. You remember us, don't you? From long ago? We're back now. Please lend us your power. We will not misuse it, I promise you.”

  Malfiess stared at Callius in surprise. It sounded like the scryer was speaking with another person, not trying to manipulate lines of energy. Were the ley lines sentient? Or was this just Callius' way of working with that power?

  The young elf suddenly smiled happily.

  “Oh, thank you. You do know us, don't you? Yes, we are home. We will not leave you again.”

  A burst of blue light blinded Malfiess for a moment and he raised his hand to protect his eyes. The ground shook and a loud crackling sound assaulted his ears. The light faded as quickly as it had appeared and he blinked back tears as he lowered his arm and looked at Callius.

  Malfiess had expected to see a portal of some sort glowing in the center of the room, but he did not. Instead, there was a pillar standing there, a spike made of black stone. It seemed to have grown straight out of the ground, bursting through the floor of fitted stones and scattering them in all directions. The pillar was criss-crossed with blue veins that glittered like lines of sapphire and it towered several feet above Callius' head.

  Malfiess moved cautiously back around the table and approached the scryer. Callius was gazing at the pillar with wide eyes as if mesmerized by its glittering surface and he jumped as Malfiess laid a hand on his shoulder.

  “Are you all right?” the councilor asked him.

  “Oh yes, I am fine,” Callius replied with a weak smile. “But I was not expecting my efforts to create...”

  He gestured at the pillar.

  “This. The ley lines channeled their energy through me and formed this artifact. Perhaps it was because I wanted something permanent that they made it out of stone. It makes sense, I suppose, but I did not expect it.”

  He gently ran his fingers over the surface of the pillar and then nodded.

  “It is safe, sir,” he told Malfiess. “We need not worry about anyone touching it, including children.”

  The councilor looked dubious and Callius smiled at him.

  “Go ahead, sir. You may touch it. I assure you that it will do you no harm.”

  Malfiess looked at the scryer and then hissed softly at his own reticence and extended his hand toward the pillar. There was a warmth emanating from it that could be felt several inches from its surface and the councilor hesitated for a moment.

  “I suppose that I cannot expect anyone else to interact with the thing if I am not willing to do so myself,” he said nervously.

  Callius began to reassure him again, but Malfiess cut him off with a gesture. Then he gritted his teeth and placed his palm on the pillar.

  A gentle wave of heat ran up from his hand into his body and the councilor smiled with pleasure.

  “Oh, this is nice,” he murmured. “It feels... I don't know how to describe it. Welcoming, perhaps? Strange, but I'm feeling more energized, more invigorated than I was just a moment ago.”

  He dropped his hand and stepped back from the pillar.

  “Does it have healing properties, Callius?” he asked the scryer.

  “Possibly, sir. I cannot say. Perhaps Healer Miriam can interact with it and give you her insights. But what it can do is allow us to speak with both the humans and the dwarves. That is its primary function.”

  “How?”

  Callius cleared his throat and was slow to answer and Malfiess looked at him with amusement.

  “Speak up, my friend. What else has to be done? Your hesitation tells me that we aren't quite finished with this task yet.”

  “No sir, not quite. You see, to establish a secure connection between our three races, anchors like this one must be placed in both the main settlement of the humans and in the capital city of the dwarves. I did not realize that until I interacted with the ley directly. But now it is obvious to me that we must link all three of our peoples that way.”

  “Oh my,” Malfiess muttered. “That could be a problem. It is one thing to establish diplomatic ties, but to ask the humans and the dwarves to allow us to place a strange elvish artifact in their own territories is...problematic.”

  Callius looked dismayed.

  “Yes, I thought that you might say that,” he replied. “But I cannot simply create a stable portal and keep it up indefinitely. The drain on my resources would be too great. Channeling that much ley energy for such a length of time would eventually prove fatal. I'm sorry, Councilor, but that is the truth.”

  “I know it is, Callius,” Malfiess assured him. “I trust that you know your business better than I do. And I would not ask you to risk yourself like that. No one would. But to approach the dwarves and the humans with this request will be...”

  He shook his head.

  “Challenging.” he finished.

  The scryer looked crestfallen and Malfiess gave the young elf's arm a shake.

  “Now don't give up just yet. There may be a way to accomplish this task.”

  Callius looked at him hopefully.

  “What way, sir?” he asked.

  “Ethmira,” the councilor said with a smile. “She is greatly respected by both the leaders of the humans and the dwarven king as well. If we asked her to approach them on our behalf, I believe that she could convince them to allow you to create the anchors you say we must have.”

  The scryer's eyes lit up.

  “Ethmira? Of course! I should have thought of her. She fought alongside both the humans and the dwarves. They would at least listen to her.”

  Malfiess glanced at the pillar one last time and then walked across the room to the main doors.

  “Yes, exactly,” he said over his shoulder. “Now come along. The sooner we find Ethmira and ask for her aid, the sooner we can get this done.”

  Chapter 9

  Tamara was sitting at the window in her bedchambers. It was very early and the eastern horizon had only a hint of pink splashed across it. The dawn was still at least an hour away, but the mage had been restless all night and had finally given up on sleep.

  Now she stared blankly out of the window atop the tallest tower in Nottinghill Castle, contemplating the future of her people and of the world itself. It was the beginning of the third day since her meeting with the elves and the dwarves and Tamara was still trying to sort out its many advantages and disadvantages to the human race. Or at least to what was left of the human race.

  She pulled up her legs and rested her chin on her knees, her long blue dressing gown cascading in silken waves around her.

  “Is this the best choice for us?” she whispered at the darkness outside of the window. “If we ally with the elves, the armies of our enemies may redouble their efforts to wipe us out. Instead of a slow lingering death, humanity will be destroyed quickly. Is that a better alternative? I think not.”

  She watched as the horizon grew brighter. The window was open a crack and a cool breeze snuck into the room, bringing with it the sweet smell of plants and soil. Birds hesitantly began to sing, as if welcoming the coming day and Tamara smiled at the sound.

  “Ah England, my England,” she murmured. “Your people are dead and your cities lie in ruins, yet you still live as you always have. Will you miss us, the handful of your children who yet survive, when we too are gone? I'd like to believe that.”

  Tamara and Sebastian had been born and raised in London, and had somehow managed to survive its utter devastation when the dragons fell upon it with fire and fang. Their new magical powers had awoken unexpectedly and they had fought off drakes and other foul beasts for several years, barely surviving until Simon O'Toole had found them and given them a chance to start over in a new home.

 

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