The Elven Queen

Chapter 1

An epic battle is overvalued. At least that was Leah Dainsley's opinion. She would rather have sat in her favorite seat in her favorite tavern, sipping wine and tasting the delicious biscotti, not caring a tad bit about the world, rather than fighting off goblins in a remote roadside, getting sweaty and tired. She remembered her childhood in the peace of the small valley of Aringrad, dreaming about battling demons and bugbears and conquering evil and earning fame and quests and such things. She noted, with some remorse about her own child foolishness, not to let her children go off to adventures and epic heroism. if she ever had a child, that is. Probably not. Not that she cared.

She remembered her old home with a little pang. The little brook where she used to play, the taste of her mother's celery bread, the smell of her father's herbs, stored meticulously in shelves and drawers. she asked herself why she was remembering these things all of a sudden, after 16 years.

"Because you're getting old. You want to settle down." The evil voice said in the back of her head. With a shrug, she dismissed that voice. She was used to dismissing voices - her own conscience, her desires. She had done so when she had abandoned her first lover. That was the first. And this certainly wasn't going to be the last.

I'm not old, but I'm certainly lonely, Leah decided as she sipped the Elven wine. The lights were dancing merrily, but as far as she could see, she was the only one sitting in the tavern drinking alone. How pathetic is that. Leah Dainsley, the beauty of Aringrad, sitting here alone like a sot drinking herself silly.

"Oi. You! Innkeeper!" She yelled, turning her head. She felt couple of men gaze at her. She wasn't exactly the slender artwork type, but she certainly attracted men. Her mother had said once: "Leah, you don't have to be a beauty by your face. Be a beauty by the way you carry yourself and you will be a beauty forever."

The innkeeper turned his fat head - his fingers were fat, they were like links of sausages probably hanging in his food storage. Leah glared at him. "Yes, you. Come over here."

The innkeeper waddled his way through, panting. "How can I help you, Madam?"

Madam. I was called madam. No longer a Miss. It made Leah feel her age, and she became a little angry about it. She turned her eyes towards him, the green hue becoming deeper emerald, flashing dangerously, just like when she was going into battle or was becoming mad.

"Bring me food." She ordered shortly. "And no sloppy one."

The stew that came shortly afterwards was filled with parsley, which Leah was severely allergic to. But she wasn't paying attention. She ate steadily, and the bowl was just about empty when she had the attack.

She coughed violently, her inner organs heavily rejecting the parsley. She tossed the bowl into the corner, which shattered into thousand pieces. Leah coughed more, until she thought she would spew up her guts. However, it didn't come to that. Her coughs became weaker, and slowly it subsided.

Slumping in the chair, exhausted, she closed her eyes and went inside her head, just like Arienne used to do all the time, counting memories, shuffling them, dealing them out to players.Arienne casting a spell, Feileara smiling, Iniel Anercil sharpening the sword, Dras preparing for the day by giggling and telling silly jokes. She remembered Arienne, usually looking cold and emotionless in her black robe - it was so dark that it wasn't black anymore, but something more sinister, Leah amended - drinking too much wine and telling her childhood story to her friends, which Arienne of Sylvanaris determinedly never did.

What was that story? Leah, trying to remember, shuffled through her cards in her mind, trying to place the picture. Her story was so interesting that Leah liked to recount it in her mind, like recounting a story from a book, but she hadn't done so ever since Arienne and she separated. Arienne didn't know that Leah knew it, of course - after recounting her biography, she went a little over tipsy, tried to cast a spell, and nearly fried the innkeeper, Azar, instead, then fell promptly on Iniel. Leah remembered the tone of Arienne's voice, the one usually cold and piercing as ice, mellow with wine. She remembered Iniel supporting Arienne as she tried to stand. Leah suspected that Iniel always was ready to catch Arienne whenever she fell because he wanted her attention.

The ranger realized that she had lost the track of thought and tried to recount Arienne's childhood. It was tragic, like from a storybook. Now there was a person suited for epics from the beginning. She could just see it, books and tomes filling out with Arienne's "tragic" childhood. She could just see it.

"Arienne, Doombringer as she was later called, may have been called a Lightbringer if she had a better childhood. Born into the royal house of Sylvanaris, she showed talent in magic and was thus sent to the City of the Night to be educated. Showing immense talent, she always received top marks, but she was picked on by her classmates. This had twisted Arienne's soul. By the time she returned from her education, she had allied herself to the forces of evil, and her family, who strictly observed alliance to the power of Light and Good, abandoned her, put her on trial, and evicted her, exiling her from her frost-writ homeland forever. Downcast, exiled, and distraught, she became a mercenary wizard, traveling around with a ragtag group and aspiring to be the status of archwizard, collecting numerous spells and growing in power.and all the while, she did not realize her full height of her power." yadda yadda and the apprentices going "Wow. She must have been very powerful." Whatever her height of power is. Leah didn't think she'd ever seen it.

Leah stood up, stretching. She had to be on the way. She didn't feel tipsy, although she did empty a bottle that afternoon. Yawning, Leah went up to the innkeeper, slapped down couple of coins, and whistled for her horse, Celebanna.

Celebanna could be called as the greatest gift to her - Leah's bow, Eternity, couldn't be called as a gift, as it was a family heirloom. The legend had it that when it glowed, it was time that a great war will come and the truthful owner will return. The story goes that the great god of hunting granted the bow to her ancestor, admonishing him only to use it in dire need - and that the true owner will come when the bow emits the blue glowing light after his death.

The war didn't come, but the light did.

Celebanna now stood, her head erect with pride, her silver mane billowing in the wind, her white giving off almost a godly light. Leah had ridden her since she was 18, but Celebanna showed no signs of aging. Leah didn't know where Celebanna was from - it was the parting gift from the rangers long time ago.

The day before she left the forest sanctuary where she had spent her childhood, when she was packing her things, one of the elder rangers had come for her. "We have a gift for you, Leah," she had said in her raspy voice. "May she be with you always."

"Huh?!" Leah raised her eyebrows. "What the." She had not heard about any parting gift-giving before.

"Shush." The crone hissed. "Follow me."

And she had followed the crone, into the forest circle, to greet the magnificent horse and learn the summoning and the dismissing tune. Where Celebanna actually dwelled, Leah had no idea.

Silver gift she is, Leah thought as she mounted the horse. Her name means silver gift. Celebanna's red eyes flared as Leah patted her gently. "Take me to Arienne's, sweetie," she whispered gently. "And go fast."

A moment later, she regretted it. Celebanna sprinted in top speed, whizzing so fast that Leah couldn't see a thing. From the speed of it, she probably could circle the world within an hour. Because of the usual trot that Leah had ordered Celebanna previously, she had forgotten that Celebanna wasn't normal - somehow, her "fast" speed was "beyond impossible" with other horses. Leah shut her eyes, the blur of colors making her dizzy. By her estimate, she was probably whizzing through the streets of the dwarven city, Zahan, by now. In few more minutes she would reach the City of the Night, where Arienne had taken up residence and ruled as the part of the Arcane Council.

Still, it was dark when Leah rode into the City of the Night. Well, maybe it was still a sunset outside of the city - but in the City, it was perpetual darkness. Lamps lit the streets and wizards shuffled in and out of the stores, haggling, selling and buying. Students made mischief, sending sparks and illusionary ghosts on streets. Children played with greystones and agates. All in all, the city reeked of magic.

Leah Dainsley was thirsty, but she had to hold on until she reached Arienne's home. Wizards didn't sell daily things in stores - servants (Leah honestly didn't want to know if they were alive or not) brought them necessities.

The City of the Night worked in a strict hierarchal system. The students - apprentices, donned in grey robes - studied for six years or until they were ordained into the General Class of the wizards - browns, as people termed. After getting ordained, they were fully qualified wizards, but most sought more. And thus they went onto Illusion and Divination, white, then Enchantment and Transmutation (dark green), Abjuration, Conjuration and Evocation, light blue, and last and the strongest, Necromancy. Those who reached Necromancy were usually ordained to the Council, were given permission to wear the black robes and erect their own towers - a special honor and sign of complete control over themselves. Others lived in the dorm, or small houses.

The city was divided in two parts - the top part and the bottom. The top was the metropolis of the arcane arts, the streets spokes from the center of the wheel - the Great Library, the Temple of the Mistress, and the School - and the streets were lined with stores, where wizards sold and bought robes, wands, staffs, spell components, books, and scrolls. The bottom part of the city was a farm, where the herbs were cultivated - it was divided in three parts, one in eternal dawn, one in eternal morning, another in eternal sunset and the last in eternal darkness.

The eastern part was simply a barricade against the intruders from the Sea of Thorath. The West, however, was the true heart of the city - the magical forest, which was said to be first raised by the Great Goddess Katla herself - Goddess of magic, she who governed all, the wizard who was the guardian of the Nimbus - and that it would not perish till the very Earth was gone. The trees were tall and forbidding, cuddling dark secrets within its depth. Among the trees were eight towers - one taller than all else. The Great Council was held in the tower every month, where the Necromancers, those who had reached power and self-control enough to use the magic of life and death, met and discussed the matters in the city. The seven were the Council members' houses - magical towers which allowed none but those whom the masters let in, the towers with no doors and no windows from outside, the towers which materialized the masters' own personalities and power. The towers were enchanted so that any who trespassed beyond the tower gates without permission, they were punished severely - sometimes, the penalty was death. Many of the townspeople heard screams of the trespassers echo in through the night, their bodies dissipating to the air. The people shrugged and slept on - they were used to it.

Leah was heading for one of them - the tall one, in a remote corner, standing alone. The tower was forbidding - the tall minarets spiraled up the sky, the stones black and sinister. The gates were black lined with silver and gold - the stones were all lined with runes. Warding runes, Leah realized, but she had no idea what each rune said. She reached the tower and dismounted Celebanna. "Come back when I need you, love, won't you?" Leah whispered. Celebanna nodded, neighed loudly, and trotted away.

Leah observed the Tower. It was tall, with magic permeating around it. Runes were everywhere. The ground had runes too - weird symbols and shapes ran on the ground, etched with silver.

The main gate had a small dragon head stuck to the center - a black one, with red eyes and golden tongue, with silver horns. Leah stood in front of it, half in awe and half in fear.

"Do not enter." The dragon head said. The golden tongue moved rapidly, in and out, like a snake.

"My name is Leah Dainsley. I am a friend of your mistress." She said, trying not to show fear. She failed utterly. Fear seeped out from her voice and permeated the air.

The dragon head didn't say anything. It just stared at her with the red eyes menacingly.

"Oh, stop it, Dargorm," ordered a voice. The Ranger remembered that voice so clearly - the voice she had loved, admired, envied. A clear voice. Filled with power and mysteries. A quiet voice. A gentle voice. A soft voice. But right now, it had that waspish, exasperated tone that had an immediate effect - it stopped whatever the annoyance was doing. "Stop being such a goddamn dragon protecting the hoard, alright? You aren't even a dragon. You are a dragon head."

"Yes, Mistress." The dragon head - Dargorm - sounded subdued. The gate creaked open - a thin, wailing scream. Leah clamped her ears shut, terrified that her brain will rot by the sound. The dragon head snickered.

"Shut up or I'll turn you into steel again." Arienne's voice snapped. The portal opened in front of her - the black and the silver swirling, a molten pool going through the ground to somewhere else. Leah could not see where it led. Nor did she care.

She stepped in, knowing better than not to trust her. The pool swallowed the woman up slowly, as if she was sinking through a jelly.

Leah loved Arienne with all her heart. That was without doubt. The slender wizardess was everything the Ranger wasn't - regal, imperative, commanding, delicate, and clever. The fragility of Arienne made Leah both envious and proud at the same time - that Leah Dainsley was independent while Arienne had to depend on people for support- and yet, her fragility seemed to add to her elegance.

The Ranger shut her eyes and remembered Arienne. Arienne singing in Elven. Arienne smiling. The smile had a cold, detached aura, like a smile from an ice sculpture. Arienne reading a book. Arienne writing. All the images flooded through her mind and passed by like a lightning.

Leah closed her eyes as she traveled through the portal. Colors blurred around her. She did not like getting transported by magical means. It made her nauseous and sick.

Suddenly, she lurched forward and sprawled on the floor, face first.

"Welcome to my home," said a voice.