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Aldritch of the Old Wood stepped from Ragnar's cave portal and onto a snow-pocketed area of neutral land. The leaden sky spat a mixture of ice and snow, driven by harsh winds. Even through the whistling gale, he heard the howls of some unseen beasts; distant, yet closer than he felt secure with.
Not a dozen paces in front of Aldritch stood a large, stone arched entryway. Connected to it was a low, stack-stone retainer wall that stretched off in either direction beyond his vision. Just on the other side of the low wall and archway laid rolling grasslands and autumn-touched primeval forests, all under an indigo sky just dark enough to let the stars show themselves. The holdings of Egon Soulsinger were just ahead.
Hearing the roars of the beasts once more, this time closer, Aldritch shielded himself from the unrelenting precipitation and approached the archway. From the entry and into Egon's land was a uniform cobblestone path that led straight off and disappeared over a gentle rise. The land beyond appeared sunny and warm, stark in contrast to the ugly climate he stood in.
Just beyond the archway, set in the short grass off the path was a miniature wooden chair and table. Asleep and slumped in the chair, snoring loudly, was an old gnome in woodland garb. On the table rested half a loaf of potato bread, a half-empty liter jug of Verden milk, and a rubber mallet. Aldritch could only assume the mallet was either for smashing walnuts or comic defense; considering the wielder, the walnuts had a fair chance.
After clearing his throat twice and barking out a low, blunt greeting, Aldritch was still unable to rouse the little gnome from his stupor. Hearing the loud bellows of the beasts behind him again, he turned to see what came his way and gauge their closing distance.
As Aldritch quickly learned, the pursuers were not a 'they', but an 'it'. Even through the haze of the winter storm, he could make out the silhouette of a gargantuan hydra; nine monstrous heads on serpentine necks, all connected to a tailed, quadruped body larger than an elephant's. Every aspect of it was muscular and swift, voracious and foul. Despite his sudden alarm, Aldritch wondered what fool had enough imagination to dream them up.
A soft-packed snowball struck the tiny gnome in the face. Aldritch must have thrown it harder than intended; the little creature fell from its chair with a cry of surprise. As its true means of defense, the gnome then morphed into an innocuous shrub.
When the low-caste creature continued to remain in that shape, Aldritch impatiently said, "Sentry, I would have genial words with your master. I have a scroll of consent from another of the Circle's latest gathered elders. Do not make me enter this holding unannounced and uninvited; it will go badly for both of us if I do." The shrub shook of its own volition and incrementally began to morph back into its original, drunken shape.
Aldritch glanced behind him and saw the hydra closing in. He doubted there was enough time to gain proper entry before it was upon him. He certainly didn't wish to incur the wrath of a venerated elder on his own land, especially one he hoped to gain favor from; better to face the hydra than that. Aldritch then remembered one of the tools at his disposal. While the frozen storm flailed all around him, he quietly but urgently said, "Lorcan, come to me immediately."
Within two seconds, the little redcap appeared nearby. "I am here, elder; what do - Ah! Damn the sky!" He bent his head to let his hair and porkpie hat shield his face from the whipping snow and ice, and stuffed his hands into his armpits.
"You have a chance to bring your tally of quests from three to two." Aldritch waited until Lorcan looked up expectantly, and then pointed with his staff out into the storm. "I need a distraction."
Lorcan looked out in the direction of the gesture, and his little black eyes sprung wide open. "Are you out of your fairy mind?!"
Aldritch growled, "It is not a request; I command you. And be quick about it." He then turned back to the open archway; the old gnome had retaken his original shape and stood before him on wobbly legs, barely the height of the tall elder's knees.
Aldritch deftly produced a scroll from within his long coat and offered it to the tiny sentry. After the gnome slowly took it from his hand, he looked back once more. Lorcan was using his speed and gift of instant travel to get the hydra's many-headed attention and confuse it. Contrary to the brave act, the little redcap was screaming in terror as he evaded fanged mouths that could swallow him in two bites.
With a high, slurred voice, the gnome said, "My master bids you welcome." The tiny gnome stumbled out of the way when Aldritch stepped under the arch and onto the claimed land.
Knowing that Egon was mentally attuned to his servants, as all fae were with those who served them, the elder dryad took a moment to wonder if punishment was in store for the gnome. Even though the post was perfunctory, Aldritch would still reprimand his own retainers if they were inebriated while on duty. Then again, judging by its white chin hair and heavy wrinkles, the tiny creature was old; perhaps it had earned some allowances. Aldritch gave no more thought of the gnome, or of how Lorcan fared, and began walking down the cobblestone path.
The stroll through Egon Soulsinger's extensive holdings was pleasant enough, if a bit chipper; the ambiance didn't quite fit with Aldritch's normally somber mood. The ancient beech, maple, and oak trees soared overhead, creating broad, shady canopies. There was no underbrush, save for the infrequent bush (or a gnome in the guise of one). Contented birds chirped and sang, large hares and horned deer bounded away at Aldritch's passing, and colorful, miniature faerie dragons gazed at him solemnly from the safety of high branches.
The path did not curve through the land; rather, it was set at rectilinear angles. From that, Aldritch remembered that sprites such as Egon were sometimes influenced by human organizational thinking, rather than the random placement of nature.
Further ahead, Aldritch saw a small Scandinavian-style guardhouse next to a wooden bridge that spanned over a wide, shallow stream. On the path next to the structure sat a handsome, roofless carriage. Harnessed to it was large brown ox that had one golden, curving horn centered between its ears. The driver of the carriage, a young male pixie, was turned in his direction with a genial, expectant aspect.
Without a word said between them, Aldritch climbed aboard and reclined into the soft bench seat. They passed through clearings and patches of dense forest, both decorated with tranquil ponds and scenic cataracts over short cliffs. Along the ride, Aldritch noticed how expeditiously the ox carried them along.
While the carriage carried him smoothly along the angled path, he had time to ponder what he knew of the illustrious Egon Soulsinger. While Aldritch's renown was borne mostly from Verden events, Egon was popular in both realms; the mundane and the Lore. He doubted there was a fae who hadn't at least heard of the great sprite elder.
Egon's Verden acts of righteousness were what Aldritch rested his hopes on. He remembered martial tales told of the wise warrior; of how Egon fought alongside Hannibal's hoard to vanquish an overwhelming sixteen roman legions, or how he advised Sioux and Cheyenne warriors to gather at Little Bighorn to wait for Custer. Aldritch remained optimistic that the virtues that made the fae famous could be called upon.
In short time, the forest gave way to a vast clearing and a panoramic landscape. The cobblestone path led to a large, flat wooden bridge supported by stone pillars. That long bridge traversed part of a large lake and landed on an island within it. On that island stood a small yet majestic castle, built with whitewashed blocks of stone. There was no barbican or courtyard; the open portcullis led directly into the castle's interior. Hanging from the square parapets were banners of a brown, white, and peach design; the pennants that wavered atop the round towers sported the same colors.
On the far side of the lake, to the right, was an immense cliff from which a huge waterfall poured and cascaded. Ranging to the left of that was a community of small, orderly houses and mound homes set into the tree line of more woods; most likely the lodgings of Egon's numerous retained servants.
Near the center
of the long bridge to the castle stood four figures; one quite large, two of moderate height, and the last was half the height of the others. They remained in place while the carriage was brought to the near end of the bridge. When it came to a stop, Aldritch climbed out, retrieved his staff, and walked with a casual gait onto the bridge.
Coming closer, he noticed that the large figure was a female troll. She was resting her hands on the pommel of a huge two-handed metal ball mace, the head of which was adorned with many pyramid spikes. Although not hand-forged, the weapon was quite rare and extremely valuable. She wore a chainmail tunic over a full set of dark brown clothing. Her skin was a deep blue, which set off her light blue eyes. Her dusty black hair was short and spiky, and hung no longer than the nape of her neck. Aldritch guessed that the calm female warrior stood nearly as tall as he did. He surmised that she was the high guardian of Egon's holdings, as if he needed one.
The small figure was a youngling sprite, most likely the progeny of the two older fae, male and female, that stood on either side of him. The female, less than five feet tall, was a stunning example of her race. Her shoulder-length vanilla hair was styled into ringlets and highlighted bronze ends. Her oversized eyes matched the bronze coloring but held a luminescent glow. She wore a simple, sleeveless, ankle-length brown dress that accentuated her curvaceous physique.
The male was half a head taller than she, and was also a fine specimen of sprite. Over his bulky torso and slender hips was a white robe that flowed like milk, yet retained its shape. Over that was a long, brown, v-shaped stole. In the center of it was a design of a Greek key in peach within a circle of the same hue. He was clean shaven with a head of short, wavy chocolate brown hair, large coral eyes, and a friendly expression on his handsome features.
Aldritch stopped a respectful distance away and bowed deeply. He noticed that all the others, save the male sprite, bowed in return. The dryad straightened and said, "I am Aldritch of the Old Wood. I seek council with Egon Soulsinger." He looked at the adult male fae. "I presume that is you, elder?"
Egon grinned and gestured to his young progeny. "It certainly isn't him. Greetings, elder Aldritch, and before you must formally and personally ask - yes, you are welcome on my land. Do forgive the attendance; my mate here, Alvara, has spent much time looking after our little one and has had meager time to venture out, other than attending galas and such."
"Of course; I am honored at this reception."
Egon gestured to the female troll warrior to his right. "And this is Marelda, defender of my lands for a time, and soon to be elder." To her, he said, "Our guest has no ill-intent; you are free to patrol the grounds." The female warrior nodded and marched past Aldritch without a glance. Egon then turned to his mate. "Dearest one, good Aldritch is seeking privacy and is eager to get about his own affairs. If you would, please take our boy inside and I will return presently." Alvara curtsied to Aldritch and then ushered the youngling back into the castle.
Egon watched them go and then turned back to his guest with a warm smile. "I would offer you food and drink," the stout sprite said, "but you would struggle with the words to politely decline. I would also offer the comforts within my home, but I believe you would rather not feel the confines of an enclosed space. A dryad to the core, you are."
With shaggy eyebrows raised in surprise, Aldritch replied, "I do not believe I have ever met one with your skill in aura sight, good elder."
Egon's grin grew wider. "I like you already; you aren't one to twist a true statement. But if you do, it is done with wisdom. Now, just as you and my good friend Ragnar bypassed formalities and ingratiating banter, I will offer the same. One of your more blaring colors says that you feel pressed for time; a truly Verden concept. We are alone now, so you may explain whatever awkward scenario it is I see in your aura. After that, we will see what can be done for it."
Without hesitation, Aldritch explained the complicated situation. Instead of embarrassingly admitting his lack of will with Cora's mother, he simply stated it as following his passions. He described each McCarthy's scenario with what he knew, and that of Brody Lynch as well. He then admitted to the final death of magistrate Devlin Ryder, and said that only an elder who allowed that Fair fae such a mantle deserved explanation for his actions.
Aldritch went on to speak of the impending cleansing of the McCarthy's village, but had not yet had the availability to confer with a seer that it wasn't simply a strong coincidence. He ended with a formal appeal of the decree Egon had set, before another magistrate was appointed to mend the Enigma breaches.
Egon leaned on the thick wooden railing of the bridge and stared out over the lake, deep in thought. He finally turned to Aldritch and said, "I concede that the initial judgment was made with passion. However, those with true knowledge of us must be controlled. We can't know of their influence to spread awareness and make believers of other humans. That would be our downfall, Adritch, and we are already in the autumn of our existence."
"Sadly, I agree."
"I respect your concern for your kin, but some measures must be taken. It could be bribes, or a curse, or even holding one hostage! One way or another," Egon barked as he pounded a fist onto the railing for emphasis, his large coral eyes shining with zeal, "the breaches of Enigma cannot go unaccounted for! Your extended progeny is not greater than the whole of the Lore!"
Remaining calm to counter Egon's flaring emotions, Aldritch stayed. With a voice reminiscent of distant thunder, he said, "I understand, good elder. I will seek other council on how to proceed with that as well; I would be conflicted to carry out the proper judgment personally."
Smoothing his milky, flowing robe as a way to compose his feelings, Egon went on in a mellow, musical tone. "Now, as for the elder Saraid's plans to cleanse a location on the Circle's behalf… What of it? She may be using the Circle of Prudence as a crutch of indignation to carry out her so-called righteous crusade, but she breaks none of our laws in doing so. I suspect that any warrior or mercenary worth their ashes would ask for pacts or payments to join. If she has the means to pay them, so be it.
"As you may or may not know, in order to move a large assemblage of fae, a permanent bridge must be built to accommodate them. Her mercenaries will expect that of her as well. Simply because of its nature, that bridge may lead them to your little village immediately, or it might be Verden years before they arrive. Opening multiple temporary portals would be far too costly of glamour. In any case, as the commander, Saraid would have to answer for any future breaches during her campaign."
Aldritch leaned on his staff and frowned. "But is there nothing to be done for her campaign? I am no strategist."
Egon shrugged and said, "If you wish to gather an opposing force to block her actions, or in some way convince her warriors to defect or depart, you are free to do so."
"Do you have no personal feelings or sense of allegiance on the matter, if I may ask?"
"You may ask, and my answer is that I am in allegiance to the Lore itself."
Head lowered, Aldritch murmured, "I do see your outlook, good elder, but…"
Egon stepped closer and said, "I believe that your worry for your kin puts a bias on your perspective, Aldritch. Some fae believe in fair play, while others are not guided by moral standards. We are beings made of elements and dreams, high passions and low, my new friend. Protect your humans if you choose; or their entire village if you can. That decision is yours. In the end, all we have is our desires and our laws. If you can, use one in accordance with the other. Any action within those bounds simply is, and all fae are free to react how they wish. That is the freedom, the sweet chaos, of the Lore."
Aldritch kept his eyes lowered and simply responded in his deep voice, "I see."
"Ah, and now you're disappointed," Egon said as he crossed his arms, "more than likely with me instead of the truth. Were you resting your hopes on the supposed value of my exploits that I might give more favorable council?"
Looking back up, Aldritc
h replied, "I was hoping to rely on the integrity that helped garner your status, yes."
Egon frowned. "Those deeds - the fall of Troy, the battle of Saratoga, the great ogre uprising, all those and more - were the results of impulse; nothing more. I feel no regret in not meeting your pseudo-human standards, my fellow elder. In fact, I prefer not to live up to any standards other than what I choose at any given moment."
"For long and long, I carried on in such a fashion," Aldritch said remorsefully.
"Ah, you miss the existence you had before you created progeny. I sympathize, but that was of your own doing. The result can be taken away, but not undone."
Aldritch met the other's gaze. "I would not wish for either."
Egon shook his head. "While you may have been tainted with human principles for spending too much time in their realm, I, like all true fae, retain my utter freedom of choice. By definition, that is pure hedonism, but what else is there?" He frowned. "Aldritch, you are trying to apply the madness, the bane, of mundane thought to the liberty of the Lore. That delusion is your error."
Aldritch nodded solemnly. "Perhaps it is, Egon; I am mistaken in my assumptions." He paused, and then said, "I remember what a wise fae said recently; that we are creatures of nature and emotion. Would you not agree?"
"I certainly would; we fae embrace them all."
Looking Egon sternly in the eye, Aldritch said, "One emotion is called compassion. I hoped that you embraced that one as well. I was mistaken."
Pursing his lips together, Egon stared back in silence. Finally, he said in a harsh tone, "Your welcome is worn, elder. I give you leave to create a portal to vacate my lands, but do it soon." He then turned his back on his guest and resolutely walked away in the direction of his castle.