Can’eth’s dark grey skin marked him as one of the royals of the fae orcs. He adjusted his reading glasses. They had slipped down his nose. He was eagle eyed at distances, but the reading of small text found him telescoping without the aid of these magnifying devices crafted by goblins. The more he read the prophecy the more it made no sense. It did not make sense. What profit did the elves gain from destroying the world. It looked more like a work of fiction than truth. He was a seer himself and it just sat wrong. Prophecies were almost never this clear.
He put the glasses on his book and leaned back in his chair and rubbed the bridge of his nose. He had copious notes pinned to the cork board in front of him. He shook his head looking at a drawing he’d made in color of this ruby lady. It had been two thousand years since the war. He hadn’t even been born when it had been waged. To his ancient brethren who were tens of thousands of years old, especially his father, it was a fresh wound, and it still festered in their hearts. So many had died and the fae orcs rarely were born immortal in this day and age… they had been robbed of their immortality for the most part. He was rare in that he had stopped really showing signs of age on his twenty-fifth birthday. It was celebrated. Maybe three or four hundred would be immortal per generation. The rest… they were less than their forebears. More savage. Still, they held honor in their hearts but not the beings they once were. He sighed and leaned forward, put his glasses on and started tracing prophecy word by word, line by line. He glanced at the waning candles. After he read it for the sixth time. And spoke aloud to no one in particular.
“It is like it was crafted to call to an orc’s warrior heart. To strike first and fast. Show no mercy.”
He pondered that; Orcs had always been hot-blooded. Easy to provocation. The elves were a very cautious and methodical race. They rarely acted with decisive strikes, often times they would spend centuries in debate before coming to a decision. That is what made the Arcanum great. The orcs pushed the elves to action, the elves gave the orcs time to think more rashly. The true fae, balanced both sides and had provided a measure of social grease to make the cogs turn freely. The prophecy made it so the normal discussions between the triumvirate of leaders would never happen. He sat up straight.
“It’s a fake. A false prophecy meant to destroy the Arcanum.”
Things started to fall into place. It wasn’t widely known, but what if it was, what if the humans learned it? Would that not cause war between them and the lesser elves? The unsteady alliance that defeated the Formorai in the first war would never be able to be reformed. The elves were the backbone of the efforts. They crafted the magic and weapons to fight them. The orcs and true fae provided the muscle. Was it a prelude to another invasion? A seed of doubt could grow…and when they were ready the Formorai could devastate the world again, no real resistance. He quickly started to gather his thoughts on parchment. Surely his brother would listen to reason. Peace with the elves… may never be possible, but perhaps… if it was explained.
He rushed through the halls of his brother the emperor’s keep. He found his brother discussing trade with their neighbors to the north, a half-elf from Aluth, a human clansman from the Emerald Isles, one of the dark-skinned humans from the northern savannas and a representative from the Isle of Tuatha De Danann. He was smitten immediately. While he found orc women attractive this woman was majestic. She had long flowing hair that seemed to have a mind of its own flowing in a breeze that didn’t exist. Her eyes had no iris and were just silvery lights. Her features were soft. She would easily be mistaken for an elf by those not in the know, but true fae nobles had an aura of majesty about them you would not see anywhere else. Mostly they were discussing the upswing in piracy by the kingdom of Salva in the south. Can’eth politely waited for the agreements to be made. All would provide ships to blockade Salva until such time as they were able to force the kingdom’s agreement to cease their piracy. A failure on the Salvian’s parts would end with war, likely led by Krom’gar as they were the hardest hit by the piracy. The diplomats said their goodbyes and made their way out of the keep, likely to the fae gate to go home. Bal’trak, his brother looked at Can’eth.
“I saw you drooling over Lady Winterleaf. Don’t. She’s unseelie and as scary as they come. Too much for an orc like you.”
Can’eth smiled to his brother. Who grunted and pointed at Can’eth’s eyes.
“Take those damnable things off they are unseemly for a Prince.”
Can’eth took the glasses off and slung them with the arm on the neck of his silk tunic. He pulled the book from under his arm and put it on the war table that was sitting in the center of the room. Bal’trak glanced at the book and his brother.
“So, what is so important that you rushed in here in the middle of trade negotiations?”
Can’eth opened the book and pulled out several pages of parchment and put them on the table.
“The prophecy, it was faked.”
“What prophecy?”
“The Ruby Lady. I have been researching it and it was made to cause the war.”
Bal’trak waved his hand dismissively.
“It has been reviewed and certified by the seers. What makes you think you know better than orcs wiser and more experienced than you?”
“I have fresh eyes. I am not someone who certified it. I have nothing to gain or lose by this. They will be embarrassed. Can you imagine being the person responsible for the deaths of hundreds of thousands of orcs? The loss of our immortality?”
“The fae elves who have died off were the cause of that. The reason it never came to pass is because the Ash lands was their last gasp before they died off.”
“You honestly think they are gone?”
“Why haven’t they retaliated then?”
“I think nearly wiping us out was a fairly large retaliation.”
“One hasn’t been seen in centuries. Since father’s time.”
Can’eth raised his voice and picked up his stack of parchments and shook them.
“Read it, you will see.”
Footsteps echoed as another orc entered the room. He wore heavy robes and walked with a limp. He leaned heavily on his staff and cleared his throat.
“I hear bickering of brothers. Is everything alright?”
Bal’trak motioned to the elder orc to approach.
“Gur’thak, my brother says one of your prophecy’s is false.”
The elder orc chuckled which sounded more like a growl.
“Does he?”
He leaned down and picked up the parchments that Can’eth had put back on the table. He scanned it with his eyes. He patted Can’eth on the shoulder.
“All good arguments we discussed before it was certified cub. If you’d come to your peers instead of running to the emperor, we could have told you that.”
Bal’trak shrugged.
“There you have it. Already asked and answered. Now go do something useful would you brother?”
Can’eth gathered his things and walked out wordlessly. He had expected that reaction from the seers, but he’d actually expected his brother to listen. He dropped the book on his worktable. His room was always cluttered with books, parchment, clothes. Tidiness was never his strength. He slammed his fist on the heavy oak table. He was so furious at being ignored. He would give everything to be the Emperor and be able to make this an order, that the Prophecy be torn up and never repeated. The candles in his room started to puff out once after the other. Leaving him in darkness. Not that it would hinder an orc. He shivered as the room’s temperature turned frosty. Only the most extremes of cold would cause a fae orc discomfort. His breath could be seen. He saw darker smoke against the darkness of his room. It formed a humanoid shape and whispered with a seductive female voice.
“Ignored, belittled, treated like a child. What a waste.”
Can’eth swatted at the smoke being, but his hand passed through it and it reformed behind him its cackles echoing in the stone room.
“You said you would give anything to make this Prophecy go away…did you mean it?”
Can’eth spun around to face it, looking for eyes.
“What are you?”
“An interested party.”
“That answers nothing.”
“You know me as the Grey Watcher. She who slides through the shadows.”
“The goddess of assassins. The femme fatale.”
He noticed the feminine curves of the smoke being one of its hands caressed his cheek. A chill ran though his body, but also excitement.
“You like my touch mortal? Though it freezes you to your bones.”
She moved closer and her lips touched his, turning them a light tinge of blue as his breath froze in his throat but he leaned forward for more. She broke their connection, and he could almost see her smiling. Ice blue eyes formed on her face and her physical body manifested. She was pale and her iris were glowing blue. He had never seen someone so beautiful so deadly.
“Why have you appeared to me? You only appear to those destined to die…by your hand.”
His hands gripped the edges of his desk as the realization of this portent came crashing down on him. It was said should the Gray Watcher bless you with her presence you would die that night with a smile on your face.
“Yes, they do say that don’t they?”
This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.
The chill in the room started to wane. She slid her fingers along the edge of his dresser and stopped to look at herself in the mirror. Her lips twisted into a self-absorbed grin.
“I am beautiful when I take a physical form, am I not?”
“Yes… that is why men die with grins etched in their faces.”
She laughed. It sounded like a death knell to Can’eth whose initial arousal had quickly turned to primal fear. She floated over to him her feat dangling above the floor, her wispy gray clothing barley concealing her body. Her hand touched his cheek again and he shuddered.
“I am not here to kill you Prince Can’eth Bonecrusher. I am here to give you a gift. You offered a bargain and I find myself in need of mortal hands. Would you like to make a deal?”
Can’eth’s hands were shaking as he touched his hand to hers on his cheek.
“I am at your service mistress of the shadows.”
“Good, good, she leaned forward and kissed him again.”
“First, denounce your God. The silver fisted one must have no claim over your soul.”
“I am yours in life and death. I renounce all other gods”
Can’eth felt something change inside him at that moment, like he had broken himself. But he didn’t care. He was so intoxicated by the touch of the Grey Watcher he couldn’t think straight. She leaned forward and bit the bottom of his ear.
“Prepare yourself.”
She pressed her hand against his chest. He screamed as her frosty touch seared has flash as surly as flame. Leaving her handprint on his chest. The thick black hair that once grew there fell off.
“You are mine now.”
Can’eth fell to his knees and she put her hand under his chin and forced him to meet her gaze.
“I am yours for all time.”
She gray lips formed a smile. She touched his cheek again.
“The Ruby Lady is real. The prophecy made her manifest. As people learn of it and her, she grows in power. Every woman who suffers at the hand of a man boosts her power. Every child that a woman loses by violence increases her power. Do you understand?”
“Yes, my lady.”
She kneeled down and embraced him kissing him once again.
“Do your task well and you will share my bed, fail me and I will cast you into the darkest pit of the afterlife. Your suffering will be short, existence will end shortly thereafter.”
“I am yours and only yours.”
She moved her hands over one another and a serrated sword appeared dripping with poison.
“I give you this blade and impart the secrets of the greatest assassins to aid you in your task. Seek out the prophecy and destroy it. No copy or echo of it should exist when you are done. Add more to your cause, ones you can trust. Use guile and disguise your mission behind assassinations for hire. Never children. Never a woman at the behest of a man who does so out of rage, jealousy, anger, or hate. And never one for a man who has been scorned. Lest we strengthen the Ruby Lady.”
He nodded.
“You know who must die first.”
Can’eth nodded. He stood up and raised his hand. The dagger appeared dripping with a vile purple liquid, and he looked at his new matron.
“It will be done my goddess.”
He crept into the hallways of the Imperial Palace. His target would not see him coming. Then he would burn the accursed prophecy. His footsteps made no sound and the shadows clung to him like wisps of smoke. None sensed his passing. The Grey Watcher had been generous with her gifts. He found the door the elder sage’s sanctum. He’d only been here a few times. In the entryway four pillars of jade rose from metal holders. Each glowed. At the center kneeled the elder sage. Gur’thak was deep in meditation. When the serrated dagger slid across his throat. This was no clean cut it tore the flesh. The blood would pour out and he would die. No magics would restore his life. His soul would forever linger in the darkness of the Grey Watcher’s domain. Her avarice was legendary once she possessed something she never let it go. Can’eth stood over his fallen mentor, and he felt nothing. He knew what he had wrought with his words. The Grey Order had claimed its first soul. It would not be the last.
*****
Deep in the mists of the western sea lay a chain of islands. They were lush and green. Their beauty was sung of in tales of long forgotten histories by the mortal races. It was as if someone painted the most beautiful land they could imagine and made it manifest. At the center of the largest island was a city shaped from the trees and earth. No woodsman’s axe, no carpenter’s saw had touched the buildings. At the center of the city a shining spire of rose-colored crystal glinted in the sunlight. In front of the spire was a ring of columns overgrown with ivy and flowered vines. A circular marble ring rose around the center of the ring of columns. Each facet of it a different color. Marked by the symbol of the House that claimed the spot. This day all of the spots were filled save one. The pillars behind it were thick with thorns and unkempt vines. The marble was blackened, and the house symbol struck from its surface. Tall, eloquent creatures with eyes that matched the varied gems of the world stood and debated. Their hair ran the gamut of the shiny metals of the world. Silver, Platinum, Bronze, Copper, Gold. At the head of the table, opposite the fallen house stood a man who stood taller than the rest. His ruby eyes and silver hair a striking contrast to his fellows. The ruby eyes marked him as a member of the royal bloodline. This was expected as he was the reigning ruler. Humans would call him king. The elves called him Guardian of the Circle. In the center of the marble ring was a metal disk that bore his family’s crest. A dragon encircling a large tree. The crest of the Quasitori. Or if translated from the ancient elvish the people of this land spoke, Keepers of Justice.
Thought the various elves argued and debated the merits of items brought forward before the council none questioned their Guardian. A human who glanced at him would see a young man, in his prime. Those who lived on the Island of the Mists knew him to be ancient. It was his call for vengeance that had struck down the hated orcs. It was his wisdom that saw the sanctum islands created. It was his vision that guided the idyllic lives of the Fae Elves. When he spoke all listened. Right now he wished this extended to his youngest child. As her called her name for the third time. The young elf with wild silver hair and red hair didn’t look up from her book.
“Kyanna!”
There was murmur that ran through the crowd and the elves of the circle when the Guardian raised his voice for the first time in several thousand years. The tone caught his daughter’s ear and she slammed her book closed. Her flawless skin was flush now as she rushed forward almost tripping on her long dress. She looked up to her father and whispered.
“I am sorry father.”
Her father frowned and motioned to the council.
“It is not me to whom you owe an apology. Get on with it and make your request.”
Kyanna was barely the age of a human teenager at this point. She wanted to be anywhere but here. How she had begged her father for this opportunity, and now she had destroyed her credibility.
“Hello, esteemed councilors. I apologize for the delay. I have come to beg your audience… I…”
She trailed off. What she was requesting was unprecedented in the history of their people. An insult to her bloodline her mother had said. Her father had just said no, with no discussion. But it was not their decision. The tower of high magic had declared her a prodigy. Only the council could overrule his word. They had never gone against him before. She looked up at her father who looked down at her expectantly. She could see it in his eyes, that he was humoring her to teach her a lesson. It was always lessons in rulership from him. He knew she would mess this up as she had messed everything else up. Or at least that was what was running through her head. She heard footsteps behind and looked up. It was Waerva. The high sorceress. The most powerful elven magic user in the world. She looked at her with her emerald eyes and nodded to her. Kyanna felt a jolt of self-confidence well up in her. She looked back at Waerva then to the council. Her head held high. Her shoulders back.
“I have passed all my trials for the tower of high sorcery. I am the strongest prospect they have ever seen, and I can serve our people best by using that gift. While I am a royal, my brother will take over for my father long before I would, please help him see reason, I should use my natural gifts instead of wasting them learning how to rule our people, an event that will never come to pass.”
There were gasps in the crowd. The council members started talking immediately. Looking at each other. Waerva stepped forward. All eyes snapped to her as she spoke. The high sorceress had not been seen outside the tower in centuries. She had spoken publicly even more rarely.
“Council, what this child says is true. We have never seen raw power like hers. Not training her would be a terrible error. Not only would we be spitting in the face of our gods, but we would be setting her, and whomever is around her up for a terrible tragedy. Trained or not, she can wield magic, we all know the dangers of wild magic, would you not rather have her in control of her abilities? Will you let the pride of a ruler who sees only his legacy risk lives?”
As Waerva spoke a shadow covered the council chambers. It slowly shrunk and an elven woman with silver hair landed in the center of the circle. Show bowed her head to Waerva and the Guardian. There were gasps from the entire council. To see the great silver wyrm that guarded their island, the avatar of their goddess, wake up and take humanoid form would be a once in a lifetime event for the lesser races of elves. She didn’t dwell politeness and spoke plainly.
“Madb has given me a vision. Two elves, both of royal blood. One with ruby eyes, the other emerald. They face a great darkness together. Both seek training in magic. One is here. The other is far away. If denied they will find their training, for they must, it is their destiny. Great suffering will befall them should their destiny be resisted.”
She looked at the Guardian.
“Deny your daughter and you will regret it.”
She jumped into the air and shifted into her true form, a majestic silver dragon. The drown draft from her wings almost sent the council sprawling. Kyanna watched her fly away in awe. Her father frowned. The council all held up their hands in the affirmative. Regardless of the Guardian’s wishes, it seems the Gods were against him.
*****
A small elven child with long flowing silver hair dashed through the overgrown field. Her emerald eyes were focused on a beautiful butterfly that fluttered through the soft breeze. It flew up higher and she lost it. Her adorable lips slipped into a pout. Her eyes darted to movement in the grass at her feet. She pounced and when she stood up, she felt something furry between her hands. She opened them in a brown field mouse peaked out at her. She giggled. She realized someone was standing behind her and she turned around to show them her catch. She had been expecting her friend. She realized it was an adult. Her cheeks burned as her eyes traveled up the grey robes to see blue eyes looking down at her. The elven woman kneeled down after pushing her black hair behind her delicately pointed ears.
“What do you have there, Kivrin?”
The child blinked and showed the woman the mouse.
“Oh, he’s adorable, isn’t he?”
Kivrin nodded. The mouse’s nose twitched as he sniffed the air. For whatever reason he did not feel like leaving just yet. Kivrin stared at the woman who had an ornate staff and had a small dark blue book hanging from her belt. She was so curious she had to ask.
“Who are you?”
The woman smiled.
“I am Amywiel.”
Kivrin’s eyes went wide. She’d heard that name before. The High Wizardess of the elven tower.
“You do magic!”
Amywiel smiled.
“Indeed, I do, Kivrin. I think one day you will too.”
Kivrin blinked again. Another adult appeared behind Amywiel and Kivrin quickly concealed her mouse. The woman had brown hair and amber eyes, she had a stern look on her face. Her tone left no mistakes as to her relationship with the child.
“Goodness me. What are you doing out here Kivrin? Your dress and face are filthy!”
Kivrin blushed and looked at the ground.
“Just umm…”
The child shrugged. The newest woman pointed at Kivrin’s hands.
“What are you hiding?”
Kivrin showed the mouse. The woman shrieked. The mouse bolted; Kivrin watched it run off.
“Vermin. You’re covered in dirt. You are the most inconsiderate child!”
Kivrin’s eyes grew moist.
“Sorry mommy.”
Her mother frowned.
“Sorry does little to make up for the scare you gave me, and your nanny. You have lessons. You are so irresponsible!”
Amywiel stood up. Her lips slipped into a slight frown.
“She is a child. Let her be a child. There is enough time for her learn everything she needs.”
Her mother looked up at Amywiel.
“You should mind your business!”
Amywiel sighed.
“Yes, of course.”
Kivrin looked at her mother. She noticed the tension and spoke up.
“This is Amywiel, she said I’ll learn magic one day!”
Her mother scoffed at the statement.
“Nonsense. You are going to be Queen. Queens don’t learn magic. Honestly Kivrin, you shouldn’t let yourself be deluded by such foolish notions!”
Her mother glared at Amywiel.
“And you, filling her head with nonsense. Go back to your tower you will be summoned when you’re required. As if my daughter’s hands would ever be dirtied with magic!”
She grabbed Kivrin’s hand and roughly dragged the child back towards the estate’s manor. Amywiel leaned on her staff and watched them go. She sighed.
“Well, Eyre, I tried. I wish you would answer… the darkness you told me about will be here soon…”