The Cleric Quintet: In Sylvan Shadows

 

Daoine Teague Feer



Many elven eyes had opened wide when Elbereth had entered the encampment escorted by three humans, for few visitors came to Shilmista, and, with the battle raging, none had been expected. Another set of eyes opened even wider, though, evil yellow eyes sown with tiny red arteries.



Druzil nearly fell out of his perch, high in a thin beech overlooking the camp, when he saw Rufo, Danica, and especially Cadderly. The imp recognized the young scholar at once and instinctively rubbed the remnants of a bruise on his flank where Cadderly had once popped him with a poisoned dart.



Druzil felt suddenly vulnerable, despite the fact that he was invisible and in a tree too weak-limbed for even the lithe elves to climb. He hadn't approached the camp too closely, fearing that the elves would discover him, but now, with this devilish young man in the area, the imp wondered what distance might be safe.



Immediately Druzil sent his thoughts back to Dorigen, who awaited his return a mile to the north. Druzil let the wizard fully into his mind, allowing her to see through his eyes as he followed Cadderly's progress through the camp.



What is he doing here? Druzil demanded, as though he expected Dorigen to know.



He? came her incredulous thoughts. Who is he?



The young priest! the imp shot back. His thoughts almost screamed that Cadderly was Aballister's son, but Druzil deflected that notion, preferring to hold that bit of news until he could watch Dorigen's facial response.



He is from the Edificant Library, the one who defeated Barjin! the imp continued. From the long pause, Druzil could tell that Dorigen had caught on to his sense of urgency. The imp recalled the battle in which Cadderly had brought him down with a dart coated in sleep poison. Druzil thought he sensed Dorigen's amusement at the mental recounting, and he sent a stream of curses her way.



Another thought struck Druzil and he looked all about the camp, searching for the two dwarves that had accompanied Cadderly on that previous occasion. They were not to be found, though, and Druzil hoped they were dead.



Who are the others? Dorigen asked, growing impatient after many uneventful moments had passed.



The girl was beside the priest, though I do not know what role she played, the imp explained. The other . . . Druzil paused, recalling the description Barjin had given him of the fool who had initially aided the evil priest's cause: angular and tall, and walking with a slight tilt to his stance.



Kierkan Rufo, Druzil decided, figuring that there could not be two priests at the library who so accurately fit Barjin's description. Dorigen didn't immediately press him further, and Druzil decided to be blunt with the wizard.



I wish to be gone from here, the imp communicated clearly. Around him, the camp seemed to come alive with activity, elves running about and shouting that Prince Elbereth had returned.



Come to me, Druzil, Dorigen bade, apparently seeing the imp's wisdom. She didn't have to ask twice.



*****



"I requested your presence some hours ago," Galladel said coldly when Elbereth finally walked into his chamber. "In times of peace, I can overlook your irrespon - "



"A force of goblins had set up to the south of Daoine Dun," Elbereth interrupted. "Would you rather I had allowed them to fortify and entrench? They are gone now, and the way is clear if we are forced to flee as I suspect we might if rumors of the approaching northern force are true."



The news took the momentum from the aged king's ire. He abruptly turned to the many parchments strewn across the wide stone table.



"I will need your assistance," he said sharply. "The patrols need to be coordinated. We must keep count of weapons and food." He roughed the papers around a bit, just to show his obvious displeasure.



Elbereth watched his father with growing concern. There was something too restrictive about Galladel's movements and tactics, something too humanlike for the younger elf's liking.



"The forest is our home," Elbereth said, as though that remark alone explained his disrespect.



Galladel glared at him, suspecting he had just been insulted.



"We must be out fighting," Elbereth continued, "freely, as our instincts and the trees guide us."



"Our attacks must be planned," the older elf argued. "Our enemy is many times stronger than we, and well organized."



"Then awaken the wood," Elbereth said matter-of-factly.



Galladel's silver eyes, so similar to his son's, widened in disbelief.



"Awaken the trees," Elbereth said again, more firmly. "Call up the allies of our past, that together we might destroy those who have come to conquer Shilmista!"



Galladel's soft laughter mocked him. "You know nothing of what you speak," he said. "You talk of the task as though it were a foregone event, easily manifested. Even in the older days, when I, Galladel, was a young elf, the trees would no longer come to the elf king's call."



Elbereth had only made the remark to draw a response from his weary father. When he saw the sadness creep into Galladel's eyes, he came to doubt his own wisdom.



"The ancient magic is gone, my son," Galladel continued, his voice subdued, "as faded as the days when the world belonged to the older races. Legends for fireside tales and no more. We will win this war, but we will win it through blood and arrows."



"You have sent emissaries to the Edificant Library, begging aid?" Elbereth asked.



Galladel paled noticeably. "I sent you," he replied defensively.



"I was sent to gather information. I knew nothing of the start of a war," Elbereth argued calmly, for he knew that he was in the right, but knew, too, that his father's patience had worn thin. "The library must be asked for aid, and the legion of Carradoon raised."



"Send the emissary," Galladel replied absently, seeming very tired. "Go now. I have much to prepare."



"There is one other matter," Elbereth pressed.



The king gave him a sour look, as though he understood what was coming.



"Some of the people have requested Daoine Teague Feer," Elbereth said.



"We have no time - " Galladel started to protest.



"We could not spend our time in any better manner," the younger elf insisted. "Our people carry many wounds. They wear the blood of enemies and friends alike. They see the smoke of their burning forest and find goblins and orogs in every direction. Blood and arrows, yes, but battles are fought with emotion, my father. They are won by those willing to die if that must be, and by those eager to kill. Our spirits will carry us where your parchments" he waved a hand derisively at the stone table - "cannot!"



Galladel neither blinked nor made any move to reply.



"Daoine Teague Feer will lift those spirits," Elbereth said quietly, trying to bring the conversation back to a reasonable level.



"You are of noble blood," answered Galladel, an unmistakable edge of anger and disappointment to his voice. "You perform the ceremony." He looked back to his parchments then, taking particular interest in one and purposely avoiding lifting his eyes his son's way.



Elbereth waited a few moments, torn between what he knew was the right course and the fact that his course would wound his father. Galladel's invitation to perform Daoine Teague Feer was wrought of sarcasm, and if Elbereth went through with the ritual, his father certainly would not be pleased. But Elbereth, for all his loyalty to Galladel, had to follow his heart. He left the small cave to find his ceremonial robes and tell all the others to find theirs.



*****



"Aballister's son?" Dorigen could hardly believe the news. This young priest, Cadderly by name, was the estranged son of Aballister Bonaduce!



"I battled him in the library," Druzil rasped, not liking the taste of the bitter words, "as I showed you when we communicated from afar. He is a trickster take heed! And he surrounds himself with powerful friends."



"Does Aballister know of him?" Dorigen asked, wondering what intrigue might be going on about her. Was Aballister, perhaps, in contact with this young priest in those fateful moments of Barjin's demise? she wondered. Could it be possible that the wizard had aided his son in defeating Barjin?



Druzil nodded, his tall, doglike ears flipping forward. "Aballister learned of Cadderly when the priest battled Barjin," he explained. "Aballister was not pleased to find Cadderly in the library. He will be most upset to learn that the trickster aids the elves!"



A hundred possibilities whirled through Dorigen's mind then, of how she might gain the uppermost hand in this conflict against the elves, and in her own struggles within the hierarchy of Castle Trinity.



"You are sure that this Rufo is the fool Barjin spoke of?" she asked eagerly.



"I am," Druzil lied, hoping that his guess was correct, but not daring to disappoint Dorigen when she was so excited. He studied her amber eyes, sparkling dots straddling the bridge of her disfigured nose.



"Go back to the elves," Dorigen commanded. She had to lift her voice over Druzil's whine to complete her orders. "Arrange a meeting with this Kierkan Rufo. If he was Barjin's fool, then he will be mine as well."



Druzil groaned but flapped his wings and obediently started off.



"And Druzil," Dorigen called, "I trust that you will make no contact with Aballister, or that, if you do, nothing of this will be mentioned."



Druzil nodded. "What would be my gain?" he asked innocently, then continued on his way.



Dorigen considered the question carefully, and she knew that the best way to trust the imp was to keep him well advised. Indeed, what would be Druzil's gain in telling Aballister of these latest events? Dorigen clapped her hands. Unlike the imp, she was not sorry that the young scholar and his friends had come to help the elves. With Ragnor and his huge force finding a foothold in the forest, and with her beside them, Dorigen believed Shilmista's fate sealed anyway, and she resolved then to add to her personal gains, at the expense of Aballister's son.



*****



"Tonight," Elbereth whispered into the wounded maiden's ear.



Shayleigh stirred and opened a sleepy eye.



Cadderly and Danica watched from across the cave, Cadderly still thinking that Shayleigh would have been better off left asleep. He had protested that the wounded elf needed her sleep, but Elbereth had waved his doubts away, assuring Cadderly that Daoine Teague Feer would do much more to improve Shayleigh's health and strength than any amount of rest.



"Tonight?" Shayleigh echoed, her voice melodic even through her drowsiness and pain.



"Tonight we gather strength from the stars," Elbereth replied.



Shayleigh was up in a moment, to Cadderly's surprise. Just the mention of Daoine Teague Feer seemed to pump new vitality into the elven maiden. Elbereth bade Danica to help Shayleigh dress, and he and Cadderly exited the cave.



"Do we get to watch this celebration?" Cadderly asked. "Or would you prefer privacy?" Elbereth's answer surprised him.



"You have become a part of our struggle," the elf prince replied. "You have earned the right to partake of this ritual. The choice is yours."



Cadderly understood the honor that had just been given him and his companions, and he was truly overwhelmed and amazed. "Forgive my arguments against waking Shayleigh," he said.



Elbereth nodded. "Your concern for my friend did not escape me." Elbereth glanced back toward the cave, his expression grim. "Our enemies have found a powerful ally," he said. "This wizard must not be allowed to appear on any other battlefield."



Cadderly understood the proud elf's meaning and intentions and he was not the least bit surprised by Elbereth's ensuing vow.



"When the celebration is complete and my people are prepared to take up the fight, I will hunt the wizard, whose head shall avenge Ralmarith's death and Shayleigh's wounds.



"Go now and find your remaining companion," Elbereth instructed. "Daoine Teague Feer will begin atop the hill as soon as the others are gathered."



*****



Cadderly, Danica and Rufo sat to the side of the gathered elves, talking quietly among themselves. Cadderly told them of Elbereth's vow to go after the wizard, and again was not surprised when Danica vowed that she would hunt beside the elf.



More and more elves gathered atop the hill; nearly all the camp was there he guards had decided to rotate their watch so that all might enjoy the celebration for at least a while with the notable exception of King Galladel. Elbereth gave apologies for his father, explaining that the king had many duties to attend to and would come out later if he found the time. Whispers around Cadderly and Danica told them the elves doubted the truth of that explanation, and hinted that the king hadn't come out because he thought the whole thing a waste of time.



As soon as the ceremony began, any doubts those whispers had placed in the young scholar's mind washed away.



All the elves rose up and formed a circle atop the hill. Hands were offered to the visitors. Rufo declined immediately, seeming uncomfortable. Danica looked to Cadderly with a wishful smile, and he nodded for her to go, but said that he would rather watch the beginning, at least, from the side. He took out his writing kit and his light tube, smoothed a parchment in front of him, determined to prepare a firsthand account of the rarely watched ritual. He took care, though, to shield the light. Somehow it did not seem fitting, magical though it was, in the starlight of the enchanted forest.



The elven song began slowly, almost as a spoken chant. The elves, and Danica, lifted bowls to the sky and began to walk the circle. Their walk became a dance, their chant a melodic song. Though he couldn't understand all of the words, the emotions evoked by the song affected Cadderly as much as any of the elves. Sad and sweet at the same time, and edged by the experiences of centuries long past, the Song of Shilmista offered the elven experience more fully than any book ever could. Cadderly came to understand then that the elves were a people of feeling, a race of aesthetics, spiritual and at one with their natural surroundings, even more so than the humans who dedicated their lives as woodland priests. Cadderly thought of the three druids who had come to the Edificant Library not so long ago, particularly Newander, who had died at Barjin's hands.



He thought of Pikel, who longed to be a druid, and knew then, with a touch of sadness, that the dwarf, however unlike his gruff and pragmatic kin, could never achieve this level of spirituality.



The song went on for more than an hour and ended, not suddenly, but gently, becoming a walk and a chant and fading away as subtly as the setting moon. The elves and Danica still stood holding their bowls to the sky, and Cadderly wished then that he had joined them from the start. He diligently kept to his recording, though when he looked to the parchment he wondered honestly whether his god would have preferred him to write about Daoine Teague Feer or experience it.



Elbereth, splendid in his purple robes, moved to the closest elf and took the bowl. He began a quiet chant to the heavens, to the millions of stars that dotted the night sky, then he reached into the bowl and threw its contents heavenward.



The glitter of Stardust filled the air, descending over the targeted elf. His eyes sparkled, his rich golden hair seemed to shine more brightly, and when the Stardust had settled, he stood perfectly still, glowing with inner contentment.



Cadderly could hardly find the words to express this transformation. He sat dumbfounded as Elbereth moved about the ring, repeating the ceremony. Most dramatic was the change that came over Shayleigh. Before the star-dust descended over her, she had hardly been able to stand and had seemed more concerned with keeping her balance than in any precise movements of the dance.



But after the Stardust! Cadderly had seen many healers at work in the Edificant Library, powerful clerics with powerful spells, but none of them could compare to the healing that took place in Shayleigh. Her smile returned, dazzling, the blood washed from her hair. Even her burned face took on the tanned, creamy complexion of her elven kin.



Elbereth went to Danica last, and though the Stardust did not affect her as it had affected the elves, the woman seemed much comforted and much pleased. She stared at the elf prince with sincere admiration, unblinking.



A twinge of jealousy shot through Cadderly, but he found that he could not sustain it. Unexpectedly, Elbereth took a bowl from another elf and came over to him. Cadderly looked to where Rufo had been seated, excited, but the angular man was gone.



"You wished to record the ceremony," the elf prince said, towering over Cadderly, "and watch from afar, that you might better understand it."



"That was my mistake," Cadderly admitted.



"Stand, friend," Elbereth bade, and Cadderly slowly rose to his feet. Elbereth looked around to his people, all nodding, and to Danica, who smiled with anticipation. The prince began the chant and sprinkled the Stardust.



From inside the shower, the view was even more glorious. Cadderly saw a million stars reflected a million times. They reached out to him, communicated to him a sense of universal harmony, a rightness of nature. He thought that, for that too short moment, he saw the world as an elf saw the world, and when it was over, he found himself looking at Elbereth in the same appreciative way that Danica had.



Never again would Cadderly feel jealousy toward his wonderful new friend, he vowed, and his sudden determination to save Shilmista was no less than that of any elf in the forest.



*****



Kierkan Rufo wandered down the side of Daoine Dun, secure that no goblins would stray too near the enchanted mound that night. The elven celebration had meant little to the angular man; like King Galladel, he considered it a waste of time. All Rufo wanted was to be out of the forest and back to the security of the Edificant Library. He was never a warrior by choice and had no intention of dying to save someone else's homeland.



He thought himself incredibly stupid then, for giving in to his guilt and offering, begging, to go along with Cadderly.



"Greetings, Kierkan Rufo," said a raspy voice behind him. Rufo spun about to see a grotesque, dog-faced and bat-winged imp staring at him from a perch on a branch just a few feet away. Instinctively, the tall man backed away and looked for an escape route, but the imp stopped him short.



"If you try to flee or call out, I will kill you," Druzil promised. He looped his barbed tail, dripping venom, over his shoulder in prominent display.



Rufo steadied himself and tried to appear unafraid. "Who are you?" he demanded. "And how do you know my name?"



"A mutual friend once told me," Druzil replied cryptically, hiding his relief that this man was indeed the priest Barjin had so easily charmed. "I never forget names, you see. They are so important in choosing future allies."



"Enough of your riddles!" snapped Rufo.



"As you wish," said the imp. "My mistress wishes to meet with you to the benefit of both."



"The wizard?" Rufo reasoned. "If she wishes to parley with an emissary - "



"She wishes to meet with you," Druzil interrupted, "only you. And if you do not agree, I am instructed to kill you.



"But you shall agree, shan't you?" Druzil went on. "What have you to lose? My mistress will not harm you in any way, but the gains . . ." He let the implication hang, a teasing glimmer in his rodentlike black eyes.



"How do you know my name?" Rufo asked again, intrigued, but not yet convinced of anything.



"Meet with my mistress and find out," the imp replied. "Tomorrow night, soon after sunset, I will come for you. You need not pack anything, for you will be returned to the elven camp long before dawn. Are we agreed?"



Rufo hesitated, looking at the poison-tipped tail. To his horror, Druzil gave a flap of leathery wings and, before Rufo could even react, landed upon his shoulder. Rufo nodded weakly, having little choice but to agree with the poisonous stinger so close to his exposed neck.



Druzil eyed him for a while, then grabbed him by the front of his tunic and tossed out a threatening snarl. The imp locked Rufo's stare with his own, purposely keeping the man's gaze high so that Rufo would not notice Druzil's hand movements.



"If you do not come along tomorrow, or if you tell anyone of this meeting, then you will become my mistress's marked target," Druzil warned. "Do not doubt that she will see to your death before your friends can find her, Kierkan Rufo!" The imp laughed its wicked, rasping laugh, then was gone, fading away to invisibility.



Rufo stood there, alone on the trail, for some time. He considered going immediately to tell Elbereth and the others, to surround himself with the elven host, but Rufo feared magic-users and had no desire to cross an imp, a creature that no doubt had allies in the dreaded lower planes. The angular priest went to his cave instead of to the elves and tried to lose himself in sleep.



He twisted and turned on his blankets, never noticing the tiny amulet that Druzil had pinned to an inside fold of his tan tunic.