Chronicles of the Planeswalkers Read online

  "As you wish,” Sindari replied.

  The sprite's light shone brightly, cutting a hole in the rising mist. With a swift kick to the belly of his horse, the man made off with Aerinas thrown across in front and Jjanasi bound by rope to an iron ring on the saddle. With danger lurking closely, he knew he had little time. Aerinas continued to fade deeper and had not long to live, but hope had found him. From a distance, a thunderous scream rang out and the trees shuddered and moaned as it invaded the night air. Aerinas started to drift in and out of consciousness, picking up only bits and pieces of the journey. As they crossed the Tunin River, the roar of the Misty Falls was his last memory before he slipped completely under.

  Something peculiar stood out to the man as he glanced down to the face of the elf. He knew that he would have to work quickly to save his life. Once across the Tunin River, he ribbed his horse along faster and rode until dawn to reach his home on the border of the Mernith Forest.

  * * * *

  "Where am I?"

  The world spun around him, his head pounded, and his arm was cold up to the shoulder.

  "You have traveled far and have fought well, but you have lost much blood and need rest,” a voice echoed in response.

  "Who are you,” moaned Aerinas.

  His eyes were filled with a haze that muffled the world outside. Through his broken vision, he could see a figure of a man leaning over him. A cold, wet sensation came to his forehead that eased the splitting pain. The world went dark once more.

  "The answers are coming. Rest now, Master Aerinas."

  The voice was soothing and Aerinas did not have the strength to beckon another question. He drifted off into a dreamless sleep and his pain was, once again, temporarily forgotten.

  After an unknown amount of time passed, Aerinas finally awoke. He moaned in agony, his right arm wracked with pain that shot like needles throughout. Blood had soaked through the bandage that wrapped the wound. Unsure of his whereabouts, or of how he had gotten there, Aerinas attempted to open his eyes. The chamber stopped spinning and the pounding in his head, the only thing he seemed to recall with any certainty, had subsided. Beside where he lay, stood a stool with a basin of water set atop. Lying next to it was a blood-soaked cloth. He guessed it to be his own blood.

  He shut his eyes tightly, as the memories of his encounter started to return to him. He shook his head to stifle the vision and sat up in the bed, which was little more than a large cloth thrown over a bed of straw. The fresh air of the forest sped into his senses through an open window. His eyes, which were no longer filled with the blinding haze, adjusted to the light that emanated from candle and fire light.

  The one-room house was complete with bookcases and a larger bed in the far corner. A large wooden desk sat near the center of the room. Upon it sat many manuscripts, stacks of books, scrolls, vials of potion in splashes of color, and a variety of medical instruments. Two large windows, one at each end, were carved into the walls of stone, offering a liberal view of the outside. Candles flickered in unison as the air stirred. A fireplace embedded into the far wall hosted frolicking flames that snapped and popped, tossing sparks up the flue. Most of the walls were hidden behind large wooden bookcases that seemed twice as tall as Aerinas himself. Each shelf was stacked end to end with books, a couple hundred of them by his estimate. He continued to gaze around the room until he finally caught a glimpse of a figure at the desk behind a stack of books. A faint snore could be heard at regular intervals.

  Despite the pulsating pain in his arm, Aerinas rose, catching himself from falling due to the ever-present vertigo. He gained his balance and started to creep toward the source of the snoring. He saw his sword, longbow, and quiver of arrows propped against one of the desk's wooden legs. Aerinas knew that he would not last long, no matter where he was, without his weapons. Like a man possessed, he ran to them.

  Aerinas was about to reach down and gather up his belongings when he hesitated. The man at the desk stirred and knocked over a goblet, spilling wine across the desktop. Aerinas could barely contain his laughter when the wine soaked the man's sleeve. He then noticed that the source of the snoring was not the man after all. Puzzled, the elf looked around the room for another person that he must have missed before. He found none, which made him even more perplexed. He ignored the urge to figure it out. All he wanted was to leave quietly, without disturbing whoever was there. He knelt again to get his things, when he paused again.

  "No need for those, Master Aerinas,” spoke the man. He stirred from his slumber and picked his head up from the book. “You are in friendly company here."

  Aerinas jumped back, spun, and started for the door without his weapons after all.

  With a quick stroke of the man's hand, the door slammed shut. Aerinas spun around, breathing heavily. Even with that small effort, sweat had begun to pour down his face and he became more nauseous and incoherent.

  The man chuckled, and then looked begrudgingly at the mess he had made and at his moist sleeve. He was unconcerned at Aerinas’ attempt at escape. “Hmm, looks as if I got a bit rowdy in my dream, eh?” He chuckled as he stood up and rubbed his eyes clean of the sleep. He rounded the desk to steady the sickly elf with his skilled hands.

  His voice was commanding and low-pitched, yet gentle enough that Aerinas relaxed a bit; although still somewhat shocked.

  "My name is Aeligon,” he finally offered. “and you are in my home.” He smiled at Aerinas with a youthful face that bore a peculiar black scar. It started at his chin, coursed up across his right cheek, and ended on his forehead.

  This man, Aeligon, was a wizard of great power, and thought to be well over a thousand years old. Few knew for sure. Aerinas had never seen him before, but the skills of this great mage reached far beyond the borders of the Forest of Mernith. Occasionally, other elves were brought to him who were wounded in battle and were in need of healing. His home rested in a deep valley just west of the Misty Falls, between the Cursed Glades and the northern edge of Mernith Forest. It was written in the ancient texts of Aeligon's involvement with the Great War and his healing hand curing the would-be fatal wound that Tristandor, Aerinas’ father, had suffered. He was dressed in a simple cloak, dark green in color, nearly matching the tint of the trees of Mernith. His hands were stained with dirt and other materials unfamiliar to Aerinas. Years of skill were evident in them.

  Aeligon took a hard look at the son of Tristandor through tranquil eyes and said, “I see that this day brings you to me in far fairer a condition, Master Aerinas."

  Aerinas looked down at his arm, and began to rub it. Still, he said nothing.

  Aeligon peered at Aerinas, and moved toward him slowly. Quietly, he disassembled the blood-soaked bandage from the lesion. Aerinas recoiled with pain, but was quickly subdued by Aeligon's grasp.

  "This was no mere accident was it? It was the work of a direwolf, was it not?"

  Aerinas stammered as he spouted his first words to the wizard, “Yes, Sir ... it was.” He hung his head. He suspected that Aeligon had seen more than he could hope to ever see, and knew well of the creatures and inhabitants of any forest. He was astonished that he had sniffed out Aerinas’ attacker so quickly and accurately.

  "How did you know?” Aerinas asked.

  "I can smell it in the cuts and on your garments. Not only that, you did not sleep well the last three nights. One can learn a lot by listening to someone talk in their sleep.” He smiled playfully and continued, “You are fortunate that the Sprites of the Wood came to fetch me when they did, or you would not be here alive now."

  Aerinas raised his brow, and nodded as if he remembered the small creatures.

  A host of the sprites flew through the open window, as quickly as his thoughts turned to the winged creatures. They buzzed and danced around. A frightened Aerinas took cover under the desk. Aeligon laughed aloud at the elf. “Do not be afraid, Aerinas. It is only your sprite saviors!"

  Sindari flew close to Aerinas’ face when he finally emerged
from under the desk and regained his composure.

  "I am deeply in your debt, little one,” confessed Aerinas.

  The sprite fluttered up and down and from side to side, pleased with Aerinas’ gratefulness. She flew even closer to his face, and spoke.

  "It is thee who art the protector of the woodland realms of this world Aerinas, son of Tristandor, and it is to thee that we owe this debt. We helped ye slay the fetid direwolf of the mountains for this debt. Thus, ye will always have our aid in such times."

  Her speech was light and high-pitched, similar to the tone of a flute, and changed intonation, almost as if she were singing to him.

  Aeligon continued to inspect the elf's wound, while Aerinas gave an account of the evening. Strangely, Aerinas’ tale seemed void of a believable reason for him to be so far from home.

  "Visiting gnomes?” said Aeligon sarcastically. “A far distance to travel to visit those jollies, eh?"

  The wizard fell silent from then on, muttering only enough words to conjure a spell that stopped the bleeding indefinitely. He handed a small vial containing an earth-colored liquid and instructed Aerinas to apply it to the wound daily until it healed. Aerinas sat down at a table near the door, where Aeligon fed him a meal of hearty vegetable stew and pumpernickel bread. The elf ate as one who had not seen food in a month.

  "Direwolves in Hollow Wood?” Aeligon finally said aloud, “Why would they have returned there?” Grimness loomed across his face as his thoughts wandered deep into recesses that he thought buried long ago.

  "Aerinas, you must tell me what you have seen,” ordered Aeligon.

  Aerinas slopped up the last morsel of food and gave the mage a puzzled look as he sucked his fingers clean of splattered soup and breadcrumbs.

  "Seen where?” He never imagined that Aeligon knew.

  "At El-Caras, Master Aerinas. Where else?"

  Aerinas looked into Aeligon's piercing blue eyes, aware that he knew as much. He sighed and confessed, “It seems as though nothing gets past you, does it?"

  "No, it does not. The forest tells me all I want to know, Aerinas. The creatures of your world speak in languages and tongues in which I am well versed, and you are not. I knew of your coming to El-Caras as you were stepping out of your door."

  "Then why did you not aid me or follow me, at the very least? A wizard of your power would have stopped that evil wretch before he had a chance to do his deed” accused Aerinas.

  "It is in my interest to come to the aid of a foolish elf who chooses to ignore his father's bidding? I cannot see all things, and your purpose was shrouded from me. I had to let destiny run its course and use you as it saw necessary. Yet, this same destiny saw fit to have me play a role after all."

  "How is that?"

  "Because, if I would not have been home at that exact moment the sprites came to me, you would not be alive."

  Though Aerinas’ face showed frustration, his body remained still. The Krayn Elves were different from their elvish kin. Their skin was not pale or devoid of color. It was much darker in nature, though not as dark as the skin of the Dark Elves of Kelorn, who lived far to the south. The Kraynish complexion was more tan, with hints of crimson blushing their cheeks when emotional or physical stimulus was present.

  "So you know then of that sorcerer that I crossed?” asked Aerinas.

  "I do. His name is Haarath and he hails from Resforian, the floating city in the sky suspended above the Farrin Downs to the west beyond the Mernith Forest and the plains of Fornidain. He rules over that island with an unseen power. Most know of the hostage situation, but there are few wizards or warriors left in the world who can confront him."

  "But you could. You could challenge him and lay him to rest,” said Aerinas.

  "It is not my purpose to challenge a foe who dwells on a floating prison. It has been told that he has not shown himself in ages. He is a recluse, and not very bright in the matters of magic and lore. He had just enough knowledge to be dangerous. It was thought that his foolishness would render him little more than a nuisance. It seems that we have underestimated him, for he grows stronger day by day. A new power is swelling inside him and feeding on his will to rule, using him for a dreadful function. I fear that Vaalüna may be in danger."

  "Vaalüna?” asked Aerinas curiously. “What is that?"

  "Vaalüna is the Plane in which we dwell, Aerinas."

  "What!” Aerinas spouted in shocked revelation.

  "Yes, Aerinas. We live in a world of Planes, unseen and uncharted by the physical manifestations that inhabit this Plane. Vaalüna, the physical Plane, is but one of many such as these, or so some believe."

  "I cannot believe this,” Aerinas stammered. “How is it that I have never heard of such things?"

  "Many do not know this. The ones who do, guard this knowledge safely. Your father is one."

  "My father? But how? How does he know?"

  "He has been entrusted with this knowledge due to his stature in your land of Anwarna, and also his role in the Great War of Calaridis. I fought along side him during the last days of the war ... at El-Caras."

  "Yes, I knew of that. It is chronicled in great detail in the House of Lythardia, and in our libraries."

  "Surely you felt the earth quake and groan with a mighty roar nine days ago, even in your nightmares?"

  Aerinas shook his head.

  "Haarath broke the containment spells that I placed on those ruins long ago,” Aeligon explained. “His counter was so powerful that it cleaved the barrier in two, and melted it down so that none of it was left to be counted among the evidence. I felt it rip through the earth. Some influential voice pervades his thoughts and stirs his determination. Even now, it is feeding his brain with devastating plots the likes of which I cannot even see. I have been traveling abroad through Mernith and Merchindale. My business is unimportant to you, but beware that great evil is stirring and we are in great peril even as we speak. You had better be off, young Aerinas. The morning is late and you have much travel ahead of you."

  Aerinas rose quickly and gathered his things. He slung his bow and quiver across his back. The sword was bound about his waist, strong and clean.

  "Thank you, Aeligon, I am deeply in your debt, and that now makes two counts of obligation that I owe,” said Aerinas. He flung his hooded cloak about him.

  The wizard smiled, and showed the elf to the door. “And do not forget your valiant horse,” he reminded him, gesturing toward the small stable a few yards away.

  Aerinas looked around with a puzzled look. “Which way do I go, Aeligon? I do not know the way from here."

  Aeligon pointed, “South. Follow the Tunin River on this side until you reach Mynandrias. I know this is not the way you came, but it is far easier to go that way from here."

  Aerinas nodded, and readied Jjanasi. He had been tied up in the stable next to Aeligon's horse. There was no need for a saddle or reins, since Jjanasi would not tolerate either. With little effort, Aerinas swung atop him and rode into the forest once again. It would be another day's trek until he reached the borders of Mynandrias. Aerinas’ heart pounded as his thoughts now turned to his father and mother. He tightened his grip on Jjanasi's mane and urged him with his heels. The horse obeyed, and quickened the pace.

  Aeligon watched until the elf disappeared into the tall oaks of Mernith. He stepped back into his one-room house and sat for hours in silence. The fire of the hearth reflected in his eyes as many thoughts and visions roused in his mind.

  His time had come.

  He rose and packed some provisions into a cloth bag. A leather case draped his shoulder with books, pouches containing an assortment of powders, concoctions, and various other trinkets. Out of his closet, he drew a long glimmering sword, Reaper, and his staff. He shunned the customary pointy hat of the wizards, and instead kept his shoulder length hair tied back and covered with the hood that accompanied his cloak.

  The trees of Mernith's final vision saw their Healer and Protector riding out against an ap
proaching darkness, one that crept toward them from the northeast. Aeligon's path was east, crossing the Tunin to search the ruined fortress that had been reclaimed by a waking evil. Aeligon knew that Haarath had seen enough in the mirror to guide him in his unholy ambition, thus necessitating Aeligon's own haste.

  * * * *

  The Forest of Mernith was the largest forest west of the Tunin River. It covered an area over one million acres from the southern edge. From there it followed southwest along the banks of the Tunin until it met the White Falls. There it faded as the Farrin Downs were born in the land of Fornidain. Mernith Forest traversed various landscapes and was home to many types of creatures, both foul and fair. Some parts were dark, and were said to be evil, while other sections were beautiful and teeming with life. Counter to this body of arbors, the Forest of Spirits picked up across the Tunin and continued to Merchindale.

  Mynandrias, city of the Krayn Elves, resided on the edge of the Forest of Mernith near the riverbanks. Few knew of its beauty. The land was difficult terrain to cross and the Tunin was wide and mighty, consuming many travelers during a year's time. The great oaks and maples were a welcome canopy, yet were accommodating when light or rain was needed. The Krayn thrived by taking refuge high in the trees, where they were safe from most earthbound creatures. They kept to themselves unless trade occurred with outsiders. Houses, bridges, platforms, causeways, and other such structures were constructed of wood. Lanterns hung about most every place, providing the light at night. Inside these were the Lenthan crystals, a gift from the dwarves who lived in the Dragon Mountains. Lenthan crystals had mystical powers and gave off a blue glow that was as cool in color as snow on a moonlit night. This light was said to never fade or die, unless some unearthly force bade it to do so. They were a good sensor of evil, but little was known of their true purpose.

  The border of Mynandrias was protected by the keenest of archers. They took sanctuary in watchtowers, which were set far above the wall that wove its way through the trees around the city. From there the sharp-eyed sentries had all the room they needed to spot intruders from the sky, or from the ground.