“You have a damaged foundation.”
Kainen regarded the elf with a growing, gnawing sense of dread and desire for violence. Even more so now that the elf had uttered the last words Kainen would have ever expected him to.
“How did you know?” Kainen growled, not hiding that his hand had gone to his sword. Far away, Albert was meditating and playing with what looked like sloppy attempts at illusion magic.
He was making complex designs that fell apart as soon as he made them, leaving Kainen to wonder if the boy even knew that it was a better idea to start simple rather than to have the arrogance to attempt making complex machines with magic he did not know how to use.
At times, lenses and strange distortion discs appeared, and Kainen could hear Albert mutter things about the night sky, and how much he wished he could look at the moon to confirm something he was growing increasingly concerned about.
In the end, Kainen said nothing. That’s when the elf had pulled him away, to conspire.
That’s when Kainen should have killed the elf.
Instead…
“There is a remedy. And if you ask me what it is, I have no choice but to tell you.”
Kainen stared at the elf. There was malice in his words, for sure, but there was also something else he could not quite place. Something he had been feeling ever since the elf came back and offered them him reluctant help.
Someone was making him do this, and he was clearly struggling to find a personal gain in all that.
“Speak.”
The elf suppressed a smile a fraction of a second too late, and Kainen noticed it. Although, he wondered, perhaps the elf wanted him to think he had been to slow when in fact, it was all planned to the last detail.
“Make sure that the boy is convinced that my help is not required anymore. He claims to be able to handle anything you two will come across, but he might change his mind and I would not be able to help you if he did.”
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Kainen shrugged. “Easy enough. Ever since he killed the elves and… did his thing to the bodies of your little friends, he’s been quite confident in his abilities.”
The elf paused, clear pain in his eyes. “He has. And he’s right to. That is why—”
“I don’t care.” Kainen interrupted him. “How do I fix my foundation?”
With no choice but to oblige, Hyvrlat’r weaved his tale. “There is a root. It can cleanse all ailments, including a damaged foundation.”
As he mentioned the ailments, an involuntary twitch made its way to the elf’s face. Kainen took stock of it, but let the elf finish.
“What do you want in exchange for it?”
The elf smiled, as if suddenly freed from a burden. “What is your goal? I need to know why you follow the boy around.”
“I want my power back. That’s all.”
The smile bloomed into a sick, twisted grin that exposed the true aberrant nature of High Elves. Kainen stared at the rows upon rows of pointed teeth hidden right out of sight, now fully visible.
“Lead him to Sitea.” The elf said. “Make him touch the shield, and you will have your root.”
“The shield.” Kainen muttered. “It does exist, after all.” Then he paused. “I want you to give the root to me before that.” A smile accompanied the last few words, and Kainen regarded the expression on the elf’s face closely.
The elf’s smile, on the other hand, evaporated. Now Kainen knew.
“Do not move. You are under compulsion, aren’t you?” He said, muttering under his voice close enough to the elf’s ear to make its skin react to the warm breath. The elf tried to shy away but couldn’t, a simple word from Kainen all it took to still him. “To do what I ask?”
Hyvrlat’r nodded, but his neck moved like that of a broken automaton.
Kainen exhaled through his nose, suppressing a laugh. “Who?”
A shaky finger pointed to Albert in the distance. A conflict of commands was happening, the fruit of sloppy work.
Kainen’s smile widened. “Fetch the root. Do not use it. Come back to me with it, and await further orders from me and me only.”
With great pain, eventually Hyvrlat’r was forced to obey. Kainen had not uttered one more word, leaving without saying anything and reporting to Albert that the elf had left them to return to his own people.
Hyvrlat’r had lost. Lost. Utterly.
His mind was free to think as his body moved on its own. As he ran back to fetch the root. As he handled the precious thing, unable to ingest it himself no matter how much he wanted to. He felt the power radiate from it, and the magic gave him lucidity enough to panic, but not enough to break free.
Then he put it in a satchel, and the panic remained while his feet carried him back to his new captor.
“Good. Good. Now listen to me closely.” His captor said. “Keep the root. Follow us from afar, without letting the boy spot you. He has sharp senses, but I trust you can remain hidden. There will come a time when he will try to use his voice on me. When he does, you will have to do anything in your power to stop him. But do not let him catch you. In case you fail to stop him, flee and wait until you can administer the root to me without him noticing. Do you understand?”
Hyvrlat’r nodded. He was no longer an elf with free will. He was a puppet.