The Orb of Truth

  The King sat down at the head of the table, put his left hand to his cleanshaven chin, and pondered the situation. He had intentionally withheld the mention of the mysterious container that was in Bridazak’s possession, and possibly the key ingredient in blocking the magic of his mystics. Such power must be his. He retrieved the necklace gifted to him from the demon god, and gazed into the swirling smoke trapped inside the crystal shard; the same medallion used to transmit his team to the dilapidated temple in Everwood.

  “You are after this box, aren’t you?” he whispered into the empty room. “What is inside, I wonder?”

  The thuds of a galloping horse increased. A single rider thundered down the lonely dirt road. He pulled on the reigns, and the steed snorted as it slid up to the wooden pole informing weary travelers of the miles marked to the town of Gathford. The young soldier yanked free a wanted poster to make room for the new announcement. The older parchment swayed to the ground and the ugly face of a cocky gnome was quickly saturated with muddy water. Trillius, also known as Silly Samuel, was now replaced. The new posting showed a sketch of an Ordakian, his name, description, and known accomplices. There was another drawing at the bottom, depicting the one they had captured. Bridazak’s face was being plastered across the land on every wooden post possible. Once the misfit leader saw that his friend Spilf was alive, he would come out of hiding. The largest sum of gold ever offered adorned the page: 5,000 gold pieces. This would surely awaken the dregs of the land in an all-out search for the soon-to-be infa-mous Bridazak.

  .

  11

  Lost and Found

  As the sun descended behind the ominous mountain range, the heroes recognized their location. The Moonrock Mountains were legendary in their own right, as this range of glowing rock was visible in any direction from miles away. The natural phenomenon illuminated the valley, and made evening travel commonplace in this channel of land. The mountains absorbed the sunlight and then transformed it into an amazing radiance of soft moonlight. This also brought unique creatures out at night, and the adventurers could hear the rumbling of rocks crashing into each other in the distance, the occasional roar in declaration of territory, and scuffling through the brush and rubble nearby.

  They decided to hunker down between two larger sandstones in a cluster of earth-toned rock, in hopes of concealing themselves. Thankfully, the night had passed uneventfully in this strange valley, the temple portal’s destination. The sunlight finally revealed itself, alighting a rather still, quiet morning—no birds, no insects, just their own voices and the melodically trickling stream moving through the rock bed. They ate their dried rations and packed up their gear once again, to continue their journey. Further down the valley they encountered clusters of trees, which grew thicker the deeper they went. They were still many miles away from the greenery, and they estimated it would take a day to reach, as the terrain was not easy to navigate.

  Several hours had passed when Abawken stopped the group. He cocked his head slightly, intently listening to something. Bridazak and Dulgin did the same. They all heard it together; a sound of metal hitting metal echoed up to their ears from further down in the valley. The beginning of the forest was before them.

  “A blacksmith?” Bridazak asked innocently.

  “Nah, no smoke to indicate a fire,” Dulgin responded.

  There it was again, and this time, it sounded more distinct.

  “Combat,” Abawken said. “Let’s go.”

  They hurried toward the sound of swords clashing. The stream intensified in this area, and larger rock outcroppings funnelled the widening stream, causing it to pick up speed. The crashing sound of water cascading over the lip of a ridge ahead informed them of the sudden change in the terrain. They slid along the large, flat stone until they could peer down below. It was a grand spectacle that none had expected. Twenty feet down the clear water tumbled into a larger pool, but the liquid below was an intense red, as Orc blood was being spilled by an enraged male Elf. Eight slain Orcs floated face down in the shallow puddle near the clamor, with still more further downstream, already being carried away. The Elf was currently battling four other Orcs, with more trying to navigate closer to join in the battle. On either side of the banks, there were at least thirty more blood thirsty, pig-like creatures, jockeying for a position to be next to try to kill the woodland Elf.

  Skillfully, the Elf swung his long sword and slayed another opponent; it splashed back into the water to join his other dead kin. The pointyeared male yelled in triumph, and again launched an assault onto another Orc next to him. Each slash was accompanied by a growl as the wild Elf ferociously attacked without relent. His hair was knotted and nasty, with dirt and leaves entwined. He wore leather armor that bore several cuts and slashes, and his face was covered in smudges of dirt, blood, and scraggly hair.

  “Not a very happy Elf,” Dulgin whispered.

  “Indeed.”

  “Should we help him out?” Bridazak asked.

  “I kinda like this Elf,” Dulgin said, entranced by the gore below.

  “He might know about Xan.”

  “Yeah, and I don’t want him to have all the fun,” Dulgin added, backing away from the ledge and preparing to head down with his axe.

  Abawken also backed up, and they both started to move to the right, searching for a trail to lead them below. Bridazak stayed where he was, pulling out his quiver of regular arrows; a handful of mindless Orcs was not worthy of the magical ones he found in Everwood. He notched his first arrow, and waited for his friends to give him the go-ahead. It didn’t take long before a strange guttural roar came from behind the Orcs. A rock elemental, completely formed of the surrounding earth, emerged, breaking a veritable hole in the tree line. Bridazak was startled at first, but then realized it must be from Abawken’s Sword of the Elements. It immediately engaged the pig-like creatures. The legless body of the earthen creature moved through the ground like water. Its glowing white eyes tracked its next victim, pounding at its enemies with its massive arms. As it roared, dirt and debris bellowed out of its mouth. Several Orcs scattered away to the sides, while the bulk of the group was pushed toward the enraged Elf in the bloody pool beyond.

  Bridazak noticed that the Elf was not phased by the event in the slightest, and continued his onslaught. He let loose his first shot at the Orcs on the opposite side. The Seeker sought its victim with great accuracy, and Bridazak was surprised by the ease of the pull. The shaft of his next arrow seemed to align itself as he notched and aimed. The impact of the arrow launched his target back several feet, and another arrow quickly whistled in to deliver its death punch to one more Orcasian.

  The Elf finished off the other Orcs within the pool. No others engaged him, as they were now focused on the newer threats. Orc blood and water dripped off of the Elf as he slowly looked up on the ridge of the waterfall above. His deep, lavender eyes connected with the sight of the halfling. The sounds of combat faded around them as they continued to stare at one another. Bridazak realized he was caught inside a trance that the Elf was expelling from himself, and his mind was being intruded, triggering emotions of anger and hate. The bombarding waves of fury suddenly ended, and Bridazak gasped for air; he had unknowingly held his breath within the mind-battle. He saw that his good friend Dulgin had rushed the Elf and broke the mind link.

  “Now what seems to be the problem, Elfy?”

  He growled back at the Dwarf, then uttered an Elven word, “Jossume,” and magically sprang the twenty feet up the falls, landing right next to Bridazak. Several Orcs charged Dulgin, while the other pig-kin were in melee with the giant rock creature on the other side of him.

  Bridazak was quickly on his feet, backing away from the Elf, “We don’t mean you any harm. We are here to help.”

  “I’ve heard that one before,” he replied, walking toward the Ordakian. Water splashed around his strides and he brought up his long sword, preparing to strike Bridazak, who was still foggy from the trance. He fumbled with another
arrow he had extracted from his quiver, but it was too late, as the Elf disarmed his bow and arrow out of his hand with great skill. He was now defenseless.

  “I’ve waited a long time for this, Bridazak.” His sword came down to strike.

  “Looks like you will have to wait a little longer,” Abawken flew in and blocked the Elf’s sword with his own, just in time.

  “It’s you,” the wild Elf responded in shock and disgust.

  Just then, Abawken’s eyes widened in recognition, “I’ve seen you in my visions.”

  “Then you must have seen your death as well.” The Elf violently swung his sword, and the human parried the flurry.

  Bridazak retrieved his bow just before it plummeted over the edge of the waterfall. The roar of the elemental that Abawken had summoned caught Bridazak’s attention; the creature was smashing another Orc’s skull wide open, like it was a watermelon. Dulgin was doing his dwarven battle dance, chopping one after the other with his axe as he went deeper into their ranks. Some began to break away and flee the scene.

  Clashed swords rang in his ears and brought his focus back to the Elf and human fighting as greatly matched warriors. He had never seen such skill in all his years. The sword masters were now in a stalking position, trying to find an opening for another assault.

  “Why do you protect the halfling?” The Elf asked as they circled one another in the water.

  “Why do you seek to kill him?”

  “I never understood the visions about you, until now. I didn’t know that you would be together,” the Elf said.

  “Who are you?” Abawken asked.

  “I’ll let you know after I kill you.”

  The Elf launched into another tirade of attacks. Abawken quickly parried them, but had to back up in defense. Sparks began to fly off the magical weapons, and the clanks of metal intensified. Back and forth they exchanged blows, trying to find an opening, but this round also ended in a standstill and they continued to circle one another. Abawken seemed to be more defensive about the situation as he tried to figure out the Elf’s reason for attacking.

  “What did Bridazak do to you that has caused you so much pain?”

  “I will be taking that up with him shortly.”

  “You will not defeat me, Elf.”

  He laughed at Abawken’s statement, “I know something that you don’t, Human.”

  “What is that?”

  “My visions showed me your death.” A self-assured grin prominently revealed itself. He launched into another offensive flurry.

  Bridazak watched the spectacle and heard all the Elf’s comments. He must do something to help his friend. Dulgin was occupied with the Orcs below and was handling himself well, but it would take him too long to finish what he had in front of him, and then climb the rocky hill, to be of any help. He pulled out an arrow and notched it. Aim was critical when two combatants were engaged; there was no room for error. His eyes focused on the end of the arrow tip as he pulled the bow string back. Even with his new magical bow, his confidence wavered. He wanted to wait for another break in the fight but he couldn’t risk it, as Abawken could be killed at any moment. The arrow was set loose. In an instant the battle changed as the Elf, with a confident smirk, anticipated the shot and leaned quickly out of the way. The human never saw it coming as it slammed into his midsection and he flew back several feet from the impact of the magic, yelling in pain. Bridazak’s eyes widened in horror.

  “Now it is your turn, Bridazak!” he yelled as he trudged over the few steps in the water and towered over him.

  “Why are you doing this?” Bridazak asked as his glassy eyes looked up at the Elf.

  “I only wish it was your father instead of you.”

  “My—my father?”

  There was a pause before he spoke, a pause before he struck. The Elf’s eyes narrowed, “He destroyed my family!” His sword stabbed through Bridazak’s leather armor, then his skin, and finally penetrated through to the other side. There was no more sound. He could see Dulgin coming back up from below and running towards him. There was no pain, and he wasn’t sure he was even breathing. The Elf stood over him, showing no emotion in his revenge being fulfilled. He slid his sword out of the Ordakian’s chest. Bridazak’s hand went to the wound instinctively but it rested on the medallion around his neck instead. A strange warmth exploded throughout his body and he could see the Elf’s face shift uncomfortably as he began to back away from him. There came a bright aura and within seconds, a spirit form stepped out from the Ordakian.

  The ghostlike figure turned around, and he recognized that it was not his spirit form, as he supposed at first, but instead Ember. She materialized into flesh before everyone. Her milky skin glowed in the sunlight and her red hair was ablaze. Silver silk clothing wrapped around her body and fluttered in the breeze. Bridazak reached up to grab the hand that she extended to him. He was alive, and noticed now that the medallion crumbled to dust within his other hand.

  “You saved me.”

  “I protected you. Someone else has saved you.”

  “Who are you?” The Elf questioned with his sword raised towards her.

  “Bridazak, I believe you have a message to deliver to this Elf.”

  “This is Xan?” he asked in unbelief.

  “Tell him your message.”

  Her words faded along with her body. The Elf stared blankly with his sword, still shakily raised. Dulgin was uncertain as to how to proceed, until he heard the human groaning in pain several feet away from him. He trudged through the water to wait by his side.

  “Xan, the time has come and has already come,” Bridazak delivered the cryptic message as instructed.

  He could see the impact of the words on the Elf. His knees buckled and he fell back into the water, stunned. The tears welled up and freely streamed out of his eyes. A minute went by without a word spoken.

  “Please help us. Abawken is hurt.”

  The Elf seemed to come back slightly, and then turned to see the human bleeding profusely from the arrow embedded in his stomach.

  “Billwick said you are a healer. Please help him.”

  He slowly stood up, leaving his weapon in the water, relinquishing the darkness that had captured him, and approached the fallen human.

  “Please—” Xan began to speak.

  “I forgive you,” cutting off the Elf, Abawken replied.

  “How did you know what I was going to ask?”

  “In my own visions this is what I saw, but never understood,” he said through his gritted teeth.

  Xan raised his hands in the air, closed his eyes, and began to mumble words that none of them could understand. He knelt down beside him and placed his hands around the arrow shaft. Abawken felt heat inside. Xan pulled slowly and the burning intensified, but surprisingly there was no pain. Abawken’s grimaced face lessened as the discomfort steadily decreased every moment. The barb of the arrow was now completely out, and the puncture closed behind the exit of the tip, leaving behind no trace of a scar—completely healed. Dulgin helped him to his feet.

  “Thank you,” the human acknowledged the Elf.

  “I’m the one who should be giving thanks.”

  “Yeah, yeah, thank you and thank you, now what in dwarven hell is going on here?” Dulgin demanded an answer.

  “I will take you to my home, and we will talk there.”

  Bridazak handed the Elf his sword and gave him a smile along with it. They gathered their belongings and headed off into the forest. Abawken’s rock elemental stood ready down below, surrounded by dead Orcs. He dismissed the creature with a wave of his sword and it fell back into the earth, a cascade of rock and dirt.

  An hour passed as they followed the Elf in single file until they reached a cave entrance. Nestled amongst the trees was a hill with huge boulders of granite and a large opening that perhaps once was residence for wildlife in the area.

  “This is your home?” Dulgin asked.

  “Do you like it?”

 
“I’ve never heard of any Elf living inside a cave. I can’t wait to hear this story,” the Dwarf continued on as he followed everyone inside.

  Xan led the group through a narrow, mineral scented tunnel until they reached a strange, reinforced wooden door. It was heavily fortified with iron strapping and rivets on almost every square inch of the dense entryway. The Elf waved his hand and whispered a word that the heroes couldn’t discern, which unlocked the magical entrance. The door silently swung open on its own, to reveal a luxurious mansion beyond. Grey marble covered the bottom level floor, and the large, open plan was decorated with fur rugs, rich tapestries, solid oak tables and chairs, and plush couches; rivaling the interiors of any palatial villas in the kingdoms. A staircase ascended along the right wall to an opening above, with several doors leading to additional rooms behind the railing on the second level. Rich aromas of sweet vanilla mingled with the scent of porridge as they heard the slow bubbling coming from the iron pots hanging over the fire.

  “This is not a cave,” Dulgin said in shock.

  “Come and sit. We have much to discuss.”

  Anticipation of a hot meal, after days of dried rations, consumed their minds as Xan distributed bowls to each of them. Dulgin scarfed down the most, and trails of semicrusted porridge streaked down his red beard as he scraped his fifth helping clean and licked his lips. The Elf had tied his knotted hair back into a long ponytail. He still bore some of the Orc blood that had dried on his face. The trio had relaxed and shared the details of their recent adventures leading up to this point. Bridazak had also revealed the Orb, which brought noticeable tears to Xan’s eyes, but the Elf waited patiently for their story to come to a close before starting his own.

  “My name is Xandahar Sheldeen,” he began.

  “Sheldeen Elves?” Dulgin asked in disbelief. “They have not been seen for hundreds of years.”

  “You are correct. I am the last.”

  “What happened to your people?” Abawken asked.

  “They were lost in the Holy War at the time of the Separation.”