"An Elven Maiden - Part I" by Daniel L-E. Warsén

The world spun about. Flashbacks from past times echoed in her mind as she was lying on the ground, helpless. With her tired eyes she watched how an arm dragged her oiled in shape out of some sort of tube, whilst her ears picked up the sound of swords clinging against each other in the background. She was lain down on a wooden surface, the hard surface pressed against her aching back. The sound of battle raging filled her ears, and her blurred vision started picking up forms in the gloom. Then there was only darkness.

With a great cleave, the master dwarf finished off the last of his opponents. The shadowy, incorporeal foes had drained almost all his strength, and it was with the very last of his power that he rid him and his friends of this danger. His companions, weakened by the draining touch of the shadows, came out of their dark corners, assessing the damage. “I suppose you think I should do everything myself the next time as well?” the dwarf called out, polishing his axe with a ragged tissue. It glistened in the foul air, almost lighting up the room like a torch. “If it weren’t for me you would’ve been dead, ‘ya hear! Cowards…luckily a dwarf never flees or cowers!” Neither the dark elf nor the gnome really listened to Balthazaar’s complaints. They were too busy tending their wounds and examining the now unconscious Elven maiden whom they found in the stasis tube. “D’you suppose she’s even still alive, Joybell?” Balthazaar called from the distance, restlessly walking to and fro between the brick walls, struggling to get his plate armour donned properly. “Y’know, risking our necks for hers might not have been that good of an idea; she looks as stiff as a rock!” Joybell the gnome ignored him. She’s far too used to Balthazaar’s complaints, and quite frankly, he always got on her nerves. “She’s breathing,” she said after a short while. “She’ll probably wake up in a few hours. That stasis must’ve been a shock on her mind.” The dark elf stood silently at the maiden’s side, watching closely as Joybell examined her bleak figure. “Aye, well, suppose we’ll rest here then, oh Axe, why am I surrounded by fools…” the fighter-dwarf proclaimed, and sat down on one of the chairs next to the improvised sick-bed. With a loud crack, one of the legs on the chair failed, and Balthazaar fell on the ground with a thud. “It’s going to be a long night, I’ll tell ya…”

“Nothing bad is going to happen to you…yet” the wizard whispered in Liia’s ear. She tried to break free from the enchantment, but it was too strong. She could only watch as she was put like a living statue in a glass cylinder in the small workshop. “We have to save something now don’t we? They’ll soon run us over, but I’ll be far from here by then. Pesky dark elf…at least I’ll have time to start my experiment. Don’t worry. You’ll be safe.”

The mage closed the cylinder door and started uttering words that sounded more like incantations than sentences. Suddenly the door to the chambers burst open and a hail of crossbow bolts flew through the air, hitting the enchanter solidly in the back. He fell to the ground, groaning, interrupting the spell. Turning to the broken door, he saw several dark elf marksmen standing in the opening, crossbows aimed at him. “What do you want from us??” he cried in agony, struggling to get to his feet. One of the dark elf approached him, his crossbow still aimed at the wounded mage. “What we want?” it said, poking his weapon at the half sitting man. “Why…death, of course”. It put its crossbow right at the head of the wizard, and pulled the trigger. With a muffled cry he fell to the ground, motionless. The dark elf reloaded its crossbow, and silently motioned to his comrades to exit the room. The near invisible figures slowly and fluently walked out, their black armour blending into the shadows, leaving their apparent leader alone. The lead dark elf slowly made his way through the room, at times glancing down at the lifeless body on the floor, as to make sure that it wouldn’t suddenly hop up and release its anger upon him. He walked up to the glass cylinder and put his right hand on it. “Such a beautiful sight…” he said, caressing the cylinder in front of the face of the form inside. “A pity it’s an elf. I’ll end your torment…” Gesturing with his hands, he produced a dark glow that seemed to consume the very soul of whatever it touched, and the tube’s translucency began to fade into darkness. Soon it was as dusky as the night. The dark elf let a small smile form on its black face, and then left the room as slowly as his comrades had done before.

“What is it?” Balthazaar asked, and pulled Joybell backwards so hard she almost fell out of her chair. She shrugged the dwarf’s hand off. “She seems to be having nightmares. Look at her”, Joybell said, and pointed at the Elven maiden on the table. The elf’s body was twitching, and she was mumbling and moaning as if she was in agony. Suddenly she whispered something incomprehensible, something sounding like a muffled cry. Silently the three companions stood, listening silently as the elf continued mumbling. Several minutes passed, the creatures and objects alike being as still as an autumn breeze. The elf had now started uttering something that was, however silent and muffled, understandable. She was speaking words. Her eyes were still closed, her body was still stiff, but her mouth was slowly moving, forming words, silent words. “dark elf…evil…” she spoke, slightly terrifying the group gathered around her. “dark elf…killed everyone…” Her head rolled over to the side, and she once again fell into a deep slumber. The dwarf was the first to act. He once again started walking to and fro in the room, whilst staring at the Elven maiden, his eyes showing a streak of fear, as if he had just seen a ghost that was not comprehendible by him. “This is not normal…not even normal considering we’re in a stinking cursed tower!” he proclaimed, mumbling to himself. The others were still standing in disbelief, staring at the elf, trying to understand what her words meant, other than the inherent danger of them. “Not normal indeed…” the gnome silently whispered.

Her limbs ached and felt stiff, and her head was still filled with the echoes of memories of the past, haunting her mind. She wondered how long she had been in temporal stasis, temporarily cut off from the flow of time, temporarily frozen, temporarily…dead. Gazing across the room, she instantly recognised it as her mentor’s workshop, a place where she had spent long hours preparing formulae, mixing brews, crafting wands, and researching spells. It looked just as it had when she was forced into stasis, only ruined and aged. She slowly sat up, feeling a sharp pain in the back. She looked at herself, her robes looking as new and as colourful as that moment long ago. Scanning the room carefully, she saw two figures lying on the floor on the other side of the room, one on the back and one on the side. She saw that the larger form, the one lying on its back, was a dwarf clad in leather clothing and wearing the usual, precious beard far down its belly. The other one she did not see what it was, only that it was about the size of a gnome or halfling. She also saw a third bedroll lying a bit from the dwarf, but there was no third person. She sat still on the table, almost unable to move because of the stiffness of her arms and legs, silently observing the two figures, hoping they could provide her with the explanation she so much desired: What had happened?

The dark elf snuck quickly along the corridors of the ruined tower, rushing to wake his comrades and warn him of the upcoming danger. The statue behind him lurched clumsily after, accidentally knocking its feet into boulders and smashing door frames on its way. The agile dark elf had no problems dodging the various obstacles, and reached the wizard’s workshop with the golem some good thirty meters behind him. As he entered the room, he started yelling curses to wake his companions. He suddenly stopped though, looking the elf straight in the eyes as his chin approached the floor. Her face instantly took the form of fear. “You’re…you’re dark elf!” she screamed in fear, trying to back away from him by pushing herself back on the table. She did, however, lack the manual dexterity required for such a feat, having just begun to be able to move her limbs once again. She promptly fell over onto one of the stools beside the table, breaking it. Balthazaar and Joybell, having been exposed to violent sounds for several seconds, woke up, and looked in disbelief at the dark elf standing in the doorway. They heard loud clamping thuds from the hallway, whilst the dark elf panically motioned towards the door, and then backed up towards them. “It’s one of those ancient creations! An iron soldier!” the dark elf told them, once again motioning towards the doorway. “And the elf has awoken, though I believe that she was frightened by my presence somehow”, he continued, drawing his dark, dull longsword as he spoke. The dwarf quickly leaped over his bedroll and picked up his waraxe, and the little gnome drew a short sword from her backpack. “Ivellion!” Joybell cried. “How did it find us?” Ivellion the dark elf didn’t listen to him, instead positioning himself so as to flank the armour when it entered. Balthazaar squeezed his trusted waraxe tightly and sighed. “This is going to be one of those days.”

The black-cloaked figure grinned, and waved its arms in an intricate manner. After uttering some incantations, the air before him began to swirl. Tiny bolts of lightning crackled, and a small, blue portal opened about a meter from the man. There was a pressed silence for a few seconds, then a blinding flash. A small, flying creature came out of the gate. Its red body was blurred and warped, and the grinning teeth yellow and old. “An imp...how impressive” the man said. “I wonder what you can tell me, demon. What’s your name?”. The figure flew a few meters to and fro in the dark chamber, then hovered in front of the conjurer’s face. “Why did you summon me, mortal? I am Grazt.” it said in a childish, yet powerful voice. “I need some assistance...but I will require more than just one demon. You can help me call more of your kin. I am Terelus, the Summoner. And this is Calahandra, my assistant” Terelus pointed into the darkness at a dark corner. The imp showed a sign of disbelief. “There is no-one there.” “Oh yes there is. Look closely...” The imp narrowed its eyes trying to make something out, besides the stone walls. After some intense staring, something flickered in the gloom. Then it flickered once again. And again. “Intriguing. Invisibility?” the demon said in a lowly tone. “Yes, but this is a special kind. One which is totally undetectable, even to powerful magic. Calahandra, show yourself” he commanded. A blue light formed in the corner, and seconds later there stood a glowing, beautiful yet exotic looking human female, in a green, hooded cape. The light diminished quickly. The imp grinned yet again, although it showed a sign of confusion. “Well then, Terelus, when would you wish to begin?” The old man slowly moved away from the demon, then quickly turned his head. “Soon. I have sensed invaders. We’ll have to root them out first. And you might as well help me with that as well...”