Jurha waited to speak until both men had finished their meal. "So have you considered my suggestion, Myrus?" The younger man hesitated, his face showing first consternation, then anger, then, when he looked upon Jurha, understanding. "I will continue my training as you have suggested," he paused, swallowing hard, then continued, "I desire revenge more than I knew I ever could, but I can not let this emotion control my decisions, as more than my life is at steak." Jurha smiled and nodded. Rising to come across and pat Myrus on the shoulder in a fatherly way. "I am proud of your decision," he began, "and I think that there is no time better than the present. Go, pack your belongings, all that you have, for I do not think you shall return to my humble abode again. When you are done, find me in my workshop, and we will proceed to Colaerth."
Myrus ran up to his chambers with quickened breath and heart. Colaerth! He would complete his training with the elves, and not only with elves, but in their high city. He could hardly believe what Jurha had just told him, but he knew the man well enough to believe what he said. He had already gathered his belongings and packed them carefully in his large traveling pack. Myrys also carried a pack across his shoulders which contained his spell components and spellbook, as well as the items that had belonged to his parents. The sword however he wore belted on his hip, and the steel felt unfamiliar against his leg. The wizard looked down at it, wondering how one who had spent his entire life studying magic would fare in the training arena, or battlefield.
While Myrus retrieved his belongings, Jurha returned to his study and began the preparations for the spell he would need to take the two men to their destination instantly. The spell was intricate and required unusual components, but the old mage proceeded with the preparations with great skill and ease. He had done this more than a few times. He finished preparing the spell just as the younger mage entered to workshop.
"Are you ready than lad?" Jurha asked. Myrus nodded his head, and attempted to keep the many emotions he was feeling from showing on his features. He realized the futility of this moments later when he recalled how easily Jurha was able to read his thoughts. "Not so easy as you might think these days you know," the older mage said with a smile. "You've gained power with magic, and with that comes control of your mind. It is easier for me than most, because you are at ease with me. Now, let me just finish casting this spell, and we'll be on our way." Jurha began casting, moving his fingers in the intricate motions required for this high level spell. Finally, he shattered a quartz crystal in the center of the magic circle he had drawn, and a shimmering portal appeared. "Shall we?" Jurha stated casually, and stepped into the portal. Myrus took a moment to look one last time upon the workshop where he had learned his art, then hoisted his pack onto his back, and stepped into the portal.

The trip was instantaneous. It was as if stepping from one room to the next, and even as one foot entered the portal in the workshop, it exited in Colaerth. Myrus found Jurha waiting for him on the other side, ready to close the portal. This took but a moment, and then he nodded for Myrus to follow his, and set off, deeper into the woods. The young mage stumbled through the woods awkwardly, causing Jurha to chuckle. "With all the noise you're making, we should find the elves sooner than later!"
Myrus just shrugged helplessly and continued following noisily. He watched the path at his feet, trying to avoid puddles, and soaking his feet more than they already were. For this reason, he didn't notice when Jurha stopped abruptly in the path, and walked into his back. "What in the hells?" the older mage yelled. "Stop acting like a buffoon and say hello to our friends." Myrus looked around Jurha, and his eyes widened in astonishment. Two angry looking elves stood twenty strides away, with bows drawn.
They addressed the two wizards in a language the young wizard recognized as elvish. He was not himself fluent, but Jurha answered easily, seeming to calm the elves. "Forgive me, but my friend here has only a rudimentary knowledge of your language. I hope you do not mind if from this point, I talk to you in common." The elves both glanced at Myrus and nodded. He suddenly felt foolish that he had not taken the time to master the language in all of his training.
"So my friends, as we were saying, the King has allowed me to teleport in and out of Colaerth at will. How else would I have achieved this so close to the city's borders. If you do not know me, find an elf who does. I am on friendly terms with the entire royal family, and would implore you to search them out to confirm my claims." The elves looked at each other, speaking softly in their native language. One of them then turned and disappeared into to woods. Myrus stood anxiously. His entrance into the elven city was not as spectacular as he had imagined. Several minutes passed with and no one spoke. Jurha stood patiently, gazing at the trees and watching the birds flitter overhead. Suddenly and without a sound, an elf dropped out of the tree to the side of Myrus and Jurha. The younger man jumped back, surprised, and fell on the ground. With this, Jurha began to laugh. "I keep telling you, it's hard to sneak up on a wizened old wizard like myself. It would seem however that you have gotten the best of my friend." The elf laughed and moved to help Myrus up.
"How fares the kingdom, and your family?" Jurha asked the elf. Myrus recognized that this elf was a ranger. He wore forest colored leathers, and carried a bow and quiver, as well as a slender sword on each hip. "Well enough, though we take no pleasure in preparing for war." The older wizard nodded knowingly, a sad expression crossing his face for a moment. "Well Meneroc, this is my pupil, Myrus. He has recently completed his apprenticeship, and has come to Colaerth to hone other skills." Myrus stepped forward and greeted to ranger. "Lucky then that we should meet first," Meneroc said. "At my father's request, I shall be the one training you in swordplay and survival." He smiled and patted the nervous Myrus on his shoulder. "Mandenen, I still have work to complete in the woods. Would you please see to it that these men are granted passage into the city?" The first elf they had met nodded, and instructed them to follow him.

Part one

    In the beginning there was not god. It was instead a power immeasurable by the minds of men, beings of good and pure intentions who wanted beauty to look at and live amongst. For these reasons they created a world. The world as a globe did already exist, created by some cosmic force before even their time, but they strove to create on this ball of rock the beauty and compassion that their very existence represented. It all started with the entrance of one spirit into another realm. It witnessed such beauty and intrigue that it soon took the others to see. After a time, the pain and suffering of that world grew to be too much for them, and downtrodden, they returned to the unadorned world that had been theirs. Some time passed and they all longed for the sight and smells of trees and flowers. The soft rippling laughter of a mother and her child rang empty in their ears.
    A collected decision was made by these spirits. If the single god of that world can create a world of sights and sounds, why couldn't they? Much debate followed. Remembering the evils and pains of the world, some objected vehemently, while the joy they experienced there could be denied by none. Could a world be made without the pain and anger?
    At last they concluded that it could. Would not their knowledge surpass that of one being? Creation began at once. The first life on the world was a solitaire rose bush they could watch from afar. Its blossoms soon faded and fell, lonely for the sun and dirt, and they realized their folly. From then on, the world was created day by day, adding only one small life until they were confidant that peace would reign. This process took five hundred years, a small niche in the lives of those who had already lived for so many more. Then there was Valubel.    
    Men were peace loving and fair, as were the women. The animals, while based on those of the other world, were tame and hospitable. No creatures of destruction were wrought here. Everywhere was there a tree or a flower of unsurpassed beauty. This world was made after only the good they saw, and the good in their hearts.
    Many peaceful years went by, with brother loving brother unconditionally. Death, they found unavoidable, but made it sweeter, less feared if you will. In this way all was made as it should be. Yet the spirits had forgotten one thing. They had left the portal to the other world ajar. It would not be remembered again for many years untold, yet better it would have been for all if it had been closed for good.
    After a time, the mere observation of life was not enough. The spirits wanted to partake of life and love. Thus they gave themselves the forms of men and walked among them as gods. This was a good arrangement for all, for even though they were the people's gods, they treated their creations with love and equality. They even loved and wed the daughters of men. The world was good and a time of rest was upon the spirits. This would never last, for the other world crept closer and closer to the portal every passing day. The gods had follied.

The family had begun their preperations. Each member had found how they could best help in readying their lands for war. Meneroc and Eldicar were presently setting defenses at the edges of the woods that were the elven kingdom. "I've finished mine, I'm moving on to the trip wires." Meneroc moved off toward the west, leaving Eldicar to finish the last of a series of deadly traps they had laid. A large pit had been dug, then wooden poles with sharpened ends were set in place, and the whole of the trap was covered with a specially designed platform. It was designed so that it could withstand the weight of up to three men so that it would only collapse if a large group of enemies were to cross it. The pit Eldicar worked on now was similar in size to the other 3 he and his brother had completed. It was twice as deep as he was tall, and close to the same length and width. The poles rose half the height of the pit, making it difficult for those not impaled by them to use them to climb out. They had many devious traps planned for their enemy, and with every available ranger and druid working on the defense of the forest, Eldicar felt certain they would be prepared. He finished laying the cover over the pit, then used some of the displaced dirt and debris to cover it, gathering and placing leaves, and nutshells to scatter, diguising the certain death that an invading army would find beneath. Satisfied with his work, he headed west, and before long found Meneroc, along with their brother Pheloneon and several of his circle, standing in a small clearing examining a map.

"Eldicar, come give us your opinion on the placement of this trap," Pheloneon waved a greeting as he spoke. Eldicar crossed the where they stood and examined the map. "We are having some debate as the where the logs should be. You know the forest best. Where will they be the most effective at stopping our enemies advance, and the least at harming the trees still standing?" Many elves had worked to gather fallen trees throughout the forest. In this clearing, as well as nine others, a massive pile of logs taken from these trees sat, waiting to be placed where they would be the most deadly. "Here, on this rise," Elidcar began. "The logs can roll down the slope here, and be stopped by to outcroppings of rocks hidden in the forest at the base of the hill." Pheloneon and Meneroc nodded, and set to work immedeatly.

 The druids went to work moving the logs, using magic vines that grew up underneath them to propel them, then lift them into position. A wooden wall had been built in advance, and was moved into place in front of the logs, holding them in place until the elves who would man them released it. Meneroc and Eldicar began setting up trip wire traps, which when triggered would be most unfortunate for any attackers. In four large trees on each side of the clearing, logs had been hung, poised to swing down like pedulums, battering and sweeping away the enemy. As the trip wire was triggered, it would set off the first log, which when it crossed the clearing on it's outward swing, would trigger the log in the tree opposite it. This continued down the line, creating a delayed effect and closing off retreat. It ensured that the logs would continue being effective as the troops attempted to flee forward.  Meneroc carefully set the wire trap, marking it so that any elf in the woods would know it, but it would be disguised to the invaders. To ensure that animals did not trigger the trap, druids had placed a ring of protection around the clearing, but rather than protecting the animals from the traps, it protected the area from forest animals entering.

 Meneroc and Eldicar finished setting the trap, and carefully crossed back to where the druids were working. "That's the last of them then. Faineve, Hinnun, are the spells prepared?" The two druids nodded, and moved in front of the logs, beginning to cast the spells which would hide the massive pile from their foes. "They will come out of your swinging death only to be stopped by our snowless avalanche," Pheloneon patted Meneroc on the back as he walked past. "I will help them finish up here, then meet you back at the palace for dinner." With that, he went back to work."

The sun was casting long shadows over the land as Meneroc and Eldicar walked back to Colaerth. Most of the others who had been laboring all day in the woods had returned home already, and the woods were once again quiet. The two rangers kept the silence, both used to solitary lives. They passed silently through the fallen leaves and thick undergrowth, making not a rustle as they did. They were afterall elven rangers. There were few who would claim to have their stealth or survival skills. Behind them, toward the edge of the woods, a flock of birds was startled from their perch. They took flight, yelling their displeasure for the usurper to hear. Meneroc took note of the noise, and began veering slightly more east on their mostly northern route. He remembered Eldicar then, and turning to explain his change of route, found the youger elf halfway up a ancient oak. He smiled at this, feeling a certain amount of pride at Eldicar's abilities as a ranger. He chose to remain on the ground, watching and listening in the direction from which the birds had taken flight. Eldicar joined him back on the forest floor. "The birds took flight from the birch grove, east of here, near the very edge of the woods." Meneroc nodded grimly, knowing what this could mean. He kept his eyes towards the birch grove, moving silently toward it.

 Eldicar follwed, but stayed a good way of to the right. They both chose their routes carefully, keeping to shadows, and using the land to keep them hidden. Meneroc stopped when he could see the edge of the grove, and positioned himself in the tall grass which grew here, where the sun was able to penetrate the boughs. Eldicar appeared next to him, and signaled that he would remain right, on the other side of the clearest path out of the grove. They sat silently, both sets of crystalline eyes focused on the white branches ahead of them. The sudden sound of a branch snapping left little doubt that something was indeed approaching. Meneroc pulled his long bow off of his back, quickly stringing it. Eldicar followed suit, crouching lower yet to keep the top of his bow hidden in the grass. Another snap sounded, and then a thud, followed by a groan. Meneroc suddenly felt foolish for coming out here with only Eldicar. They knew that an army would be marching on them, he just hoped that they wouldn't have to face it alone.

A form was becoming visible through the shadows. They could only see glimpses as it passed through the dappled sunlight that remained, but it clearly walked upright, and was apparently alone. It continued on toward them, oblivious to their presence, but taking great pains at stealth. Meneroc replaced his bow and drew his swords. The man had some distance to cover before he would reach the concealed elves, but their keen sight allowed them to observe him clearly as soon as he had found the path. He wore chainmail and carried a long sword and dagger, both still on his hips. In his hands he carried parchment and charcoal, and had just stopped to write something. He stopped writing and continued on. Eldicar had noticed Meneroc's weapon change, and began to slowly move around behind the man, bow still at the ready. Meneroc waited until his brother was in place, then he stepped out into the road in front of the man. The man, who had stopped to write again on the parchment, did not notice the elf in his path at first, but took several steps, watching the groud carefully to avoid stepping on branches that would give away his position. He was surprised when he suddenly saw a pair of well made and worn leather boots on the path.

His eyes shot up to see who had stepped into his path, and opened wide when he saw Meneroc in front of him. He backed off several steps, and drew his weapons. Meneroc stood calmly, swords in hands, waiting for the man to attack. When he did, his swings were surprisingly fast. The man had some skill with a blade. Unseen to both men, Eldicar watched from a low branch. He laughed silently when he saw the man charging at Meneroc. His brother stood, perfectly stoic, weapons in his hands which hung at his sides. At the last moment, Meneroc brought his weapons up to defend. The man was not surprised at this last minute response, and kept on the offenseive. He feinted a throw with his dagger, then attempted to come across with his sword, knocking free the sword meant to block the dagger and slicing into his opponents arm. Meneroc was an experienced fighter, and had been able with a sword for more than a century longer than most humans will live. He easily recognized the feint for what is was, and instead stepped back, leaving his opponent unbalanced. The man stumbled to one knee, then rose and decided he could not outmatch this elf. He turned to flee down the path, looking back over his shoulder to his pursuer. He was surprised to see the ranger walking casually down the path after him, that is until he turned around and saw another elf, bow at the ready, drop from a tree. He raised his arm to throw his dagger at the second elf, desperate for an escape. before he could release the dagger though, he felt the tip of a sword at his back. "I suggest you rethink throwing that dagger," Eldicar taunted from where he stood, a short way from the man and Meneroc.
    The man dropped his dagger and laughed nervously. "Surely you won't harm an innocent man who has become lost in your fair wood," he held his hands out, palms up while he said this, but this did little to assuage the brother's doubt at his story. Eldicar began to approach, never lowering his bow,"well, then, since you are only a poor lost man who inadvertently wandered into our home, I'm certain you won't mind showing us what you were writing just then." The man's eyes opened wide, and he began to back away from Eldiar, forgetting about the ranger behind him. Meneroc put his sword tip at the base of the strangers skull, angled to be easily driven into the obviously lying man's brain. "You will want to hold still so my brother can search you."
Eldicar laid his bow aside, confident that the man would not try to run. "Remove your armor," he instructed the captive. The interloper knew he did not have the stamina to escape from these wiley rangers after the battle, so when Meneroc pulled his sword tip away, he did as he was instructed and removed his chainmail, leather vest, and greaves, tossing them to the ground at Eldicar's feet as he did. "So you are brothers?" The man was desperate at this point, looking for any way to save himself. "I have heard that these woods are home to a most unusual elven family, with twelve children." He watched to see if his comment ilicited a reaction, but the elves faces remained stoic, and he said nothing. "I have also heard that the entire family has recently and unexpectedly returned home. This is of great interest to some." The elves continued on as if he had not spoken, Elidcar rifling through his belongings, Meneroc guarding him silently, sword poised for a quick and deadly blow. The younger ranger stopped, finding something of interest. He stood from his crouched position, unfolding the parchment in question. He spent a few moment looking at what the man had been writing, then calmly folded the parchment, drew his sword, and approached the man. His eyes seemed to spark, and clearly reflected the anger that his demeanor did not. He stopped just short of the man, putting his sword tip to his throat, drawing a small point of blood. "We'll need to decide how to proceed," Eldicar said as he handed Meneroc the letter. Meneroc sheathed his sword and unfolded the parchment. After a few minutes, he refolded it and stowed it in his satchel. When his eyes met the strangers, he saw the same anger reflected in them that shone so clearly in his brother's eyes.

Myrus' skill with magic had increased tenfold since his meeting with the Lady of magic, but so to had his training. It mattered little to him though, because where before there was frustration, there was now and innate understanding of the weave. He found himself able to modify spells with slight variations, and he was able to cast even the most challenging of the spells Jurha asked of him without difficulty. Myrus enjoyed meeting Jurha's challenges, but he wondered if Jurha enjoyed it more.

The old mage watched as Myrus cast the new spells he'd asked him to study. He had mastered them in only four hours of study, and even now masterfully cast the spell Jurha had determined would mark the end of Myrus' apprenticeship. He could teach him no more. Now was the time to tell the boy his history.

Myrus noticed that Jurha no longer wore a smile on his face, and stopped gathering components to cast the spell again. He knew in his heart he had cast if perfectly, yet Jurha was not happy. "Was that not the effect you wanted from the spell?" he asked his mentor. The sad face brightened affectionately and he patted Myrus on the shoulder. "It was very good lad. I was only contemplating how I would tell you that in my opinion, there is nothing more I can teach you." The once apprentice, now mage, sat abruptley, jaw slack, then his face broke out in a grin. He looked up to Jurha, and the mage nodded, "You are no longer an apprentice, you are now Myrus the mage!"

That night they celebrated, and both ate and drank more than their fill. When they made their way to the tower stairs that lead to the sleeping chambers, the first grey light of dawn was showing through the windows. "There is one last thing I will show you before you go," Jurha paused to belch; "Tomorrow though, I think." He swayed dangerously on the step for a moment, then continued up the the landing which lead to his room. "Sleep well, Myrus the Mage," the words floated down to Myrus from the floor above just as he reched his chamber door. The younger man closed his door and stumbled to his bed. He fell into it fully dressed, his eyes closing almost immedeatly. "Myrus the mage..." he mumbled, almost inaudibly, as he fell into dream.

Neither man appeared downstairs until almost midday. The cook, having heard them stumbling up to bed early that morning had kept some stew warming on the fire so they could eat whenever they awoke. Jurha woke first, and as he was enjoying his second helping of the hearty breakfast, Myrus appeared. He rubbed his eyes as he shuffled into the room, looking far from rested, and walked to the fire to fill a bowl from the large kettle suspended over it. "When you are done eating, come see me in my study," Jurha told the sleepy younger man, who nodded and yawned.

Jurha couldn't help but let his mind wander to the past as he walked. How would he tell this young man who he really was, and who his parents had been? He reached his chamber and went to a table with several books piled upon it. Carefully, the ancient volumes were laid aside, and then the table was as well. He pushed away the rug and stood, muttering a spell while he did. Faint blue lines appeared, marking the edges of a trap door. Jurha reached for the invisible handle without hesitation, and pulled the door open. within it was a space just large enough for the treasures hidden inside. A spell book, carefully wrapped to preserve the pages, sat on top of some fabric item which was folded up. on top of the book sat a small coffer which appeared to be made of mithril. Jurha removed all of the items, closed the trap door, then carefully replaced the rug, table and books. He made his way to the large desk at the center of the room, and placed the pile of items if front of him. His eyes shifted to the door for a moment, then he muttered under his breath and a steaming pot of coffee and two cups appeared. Jurha poured two cups out just as Myrus entered the study.

"What is it that you would like to show me?" Myrus asked, looking inquisitvly at the pile of items on the desk. He had never seen these in the tower. Jurha chuckled and Myrus realized he was reading his thoughts. "These are the items I am going to show you, however, there is something I need to tell you first. " He signalled for the younger mage to sit, and offered him the coffee, which he readily accepted. "Well, then, let's get right to the point. You, Myrus the mage, are a prince of Larton, and have only been alive all these years because no one knows that you were not killed with your parents. In fact, until now, I was the only one of any living race who knows. I heard of your parent's death and immedeatey left for the village, but knew I would be too late. Then, as if by a miracle of the Lady, I met you on the road, confused and hungry, but alive! I took you in and told you nothing more than you knew of your family, teaching you magic so that one day you could choose your own path. Your mother was the wife of the king's son, heir to the throne. Your father knew of his younger brother's plots, and ran with his wife to the Isles, having no interest in the throne. For years they were safe, and you were born. Your uncle found him though, and he believes you were killed in the same raid in which he killed your parents."
Myrus sat quietly, letting the information sink in. "The pirates?" he finally asked. "Lackey's of your uncle, no doubt told to play the part of pirates so that no one would think he had a hand in the deaths." Myrus nodded, seeing the logic to what Jurha was saying. A prince! He could accept the rest easily enough, but he didn't know if he would ever think of himself as a prince. He had never known wealth, or fine things, as he believed princes must, yet he knew that Jurha would not decieve him. He remebered the items on the table, and looked to Jurha, knowing that the mages mind reading spell would allow to know what he was thinking. "These are items of immeasurable worth, and are a few of the secret treasures of Larton that your grandfather sent with your parents when they left home. Your uncle believes them lost forever." Myrus' eyes shot up to the old mage's face, red anger rising to his cheeks. "He lives still?" Jurha nodded sadly, his eyes meeting Myrus'. "Yes, he lives still, for there were none to challenge his right to the throne while all believed you dead." Myrus jumped up from his seat and began pacing the room. His anger was stamped plainly on his face and movements, and Jurha wisely waited a few moments before cotinuing. "As I have told you, there is nothing more I can teach you. But before you go, whether it be to avenge your kingdom and parents or not, I would like to offer advice." The younger mage looked at Jurha, clearly wanting to hear what the man said. "While you have mastered battle magic, you have not learned much of defensive magic, or swordplay." Myrus looked at the wizened old man curiously. Most mages learned very little of melee, and he wondered why he should be different. "As a royal, it may be neccessary to wield a sword ably. Many of the adversaries you will face on your road to retake Larton, if that be the road you chose, will be warriors, and skill with the blade may be the only thing that keeps you alive." I have made certain arrangements, if you chose to continue your training in other areas, that will provide you with the skills I feel will most benefit you on the road to come. At any rate, these are yours, by birthright." He picked up the first item, holding it out to Myrus, "This was your father's sword, and it is called the Mysterious Blade, firstly because of the blessing of the Lady's magic, secondly, because it only reveals it's true powers to it's one true wielder, so none but you can bring out it's true magics. I will be interested to see what they may be." Myrus took the blade a drew it from the simple scabard. It glowed faintly blue, and had barely visible etchings down both sides. The scabard was a deep, royal blue, with an enormous sapphire for a pomel. The blade appearded simple, but in his hand, Myrus could feel it thrumming with power. He slid it back into it's scabard, and looked to Jurha, nodding that he should continue.  "This was your mother's as were most of the items here. She too was a magic wielder, and quite powerful with her art. This circlet will keep you safe from spells that would seek to confuse or incapacitate your mind. You'll find that when placed upon your head, it will also provide a small amount of light, only visible to you." He handed the circlet across the table to Myrus, who looked at it carefully, them put it on. Jurha nodded and continued. "These were also your mothers." He unrolled a small cloth bundle, and inside were three wands."Two of these will throw lightening at your foes, and one will paralyze them temporarily." He slid the wands across the table to Myrus and proceeded to the next item. It too was cloth, but seemed a finer weave, and as Jurha unrolled it, he could see why. It was in fact, a cloak. "This cloak will prevent your enemies from ensnaring you in spells that may hinder or stop your body from moving. It was your grandmother's before it went to your mother." They both stood and Jurha fastened the cloak around the other man's shoulders. "This next item was your father's, and one of the oldest treasures of Larton. It was given to him on the night your parents wed. It is the crest of Larton, and holds no magic, other than the history behind it." Jurha fastened the chain that the medallion hung by around Myrus' neck. Once ardorned in the finery, he looked the part of prince of Larton.
 "Now that is all that has come down to you through your family. I would like to give you a gift myself though, as I have come to view you as a son these past years." Myrus watched as Jurha crossed the room to retrieve a leather bound package that had sat on top of the cluttered bookshelf for years uncounted. He crossed back to Myrus and handed the younger man the package. He unfastened the straps that heald the package closed, feeling Jurha's wise old eyes on him while he fumbled nervously to open it. Inside was a sack of coins, a good deal by the feel of it, and a light gray tunic and leather traveling pants. "It's nothing fancy, but you'll not want to be wearing your robes while training with the sword. The money should keep you while you're there, and more. Anything else you'll need, you should wait to find. Where you are going, there are items far beyond anything you'll find in local shops. That is, if you are going." He smiled at Myrus, and shuffeld away, leaving the young man to feel thrilled and confused.

Jurha left Myrus to himself for the remainder of the day, thinking it best to allow the youger man time to accept all that he had learned. He held little doubt that Myrus would heed his advice and continue his training before seeking his uncle and birthright. his former apprentice had shown great patience over the years, and seldom did he question the older man's advice. He asked him once why this was, and Myrus simply smiled and told Jurha that someone as old as he was must have some kind of idea of what he was speaking of. Jurha smiled to himself as he recalled this memory, then decided it was time for some more of the stew he could smell still simmer over the fire.

In his room, Myrus looked at each item again, laying them carefully on his bed. Though eager to experiment with his mother's things, he found himself unable to look away from the pendant his father had left him. He felt anger welling up inside him, brought on by the knowledge that his parents were murdered by his own uncle. He knew that he would have no choice but to seek vengence, but he knew too that Jurha's advice should not be taken lightly. He moved his treasures to his table, and threw himself down on the lumpy straw stuffed mattress that served at his bed. Myrus had to wonder if Jurha really felt he needed more training, or whether his paternal obligations were clouding his judgement. He propped his head up on his arms and stared up at the ceiling, letting his mind wander back to his childhood, what little he could recall. He remembered the salty smell of the sea, and the sound of waves as he lay in his bed at night. He thought of  his parents and their smiling faces, and he felt the anger bubbling over again. A loud knock at his door startled him out of his daze. The door opened at Jurha's head appeared followed by the rest of him. He said nothing for a moment, but stood, staring at Myrus. The former apprentice's anger was splayed clearly accross his face, and Jurha who had read his mind from behind the closed door knew that the boy would not blindly follow his advice this time. "Care for some stew and a conversation?" Myrus simply stood and followed Jurha down the stairs without responding.

The two brothers strode through their home, feeling anxious for the first time about their parents summoning them home. "Has anyone said anything to you about this?" Meneroc asked. Eldicar shook his head. "I knew you would be coming , so I chose to stay in the woods and wait, so that whatever this may be, we'll find out together." Meneroc nodded, understanding his brother's logic. These types of summonings were far from normal, and the brothers both feared the worst. They continued through the winding hall, slowly ascending until they came to a large open door. Within, a large table was laid with settings and food for a dozen or more, and all but two of these seats were full. "Welcome my sons! I expected you would be arriving any moment." Their mother rose to meet them, embracing them both warmly. Likewise the King rose walking over to admire their gear. "Looks like you've been putting yourselves to good use," he said, nodding at their swords' well worn pommels. He tried to look stern, but a sparkle was coming into his eyes. "Alright then, sit down so we can all finally eat. And while we dine, you can tell us some of your tales, so that us who are too old or too obligated to adventure may still live through his sons." All present laughed at their father's candidness. When all were seated, they began to pass the dishes.
    There were twelve children, ranging in age from 350 to 80. The oldest was Lucrine, and she was a lady of the court in every aspect. She remained within the town's protective borders at all times, and wore fine gowns and robes. Next came Feydous, the oldest male child in the family. He also remained in the capital, but he bore the responsibility of heir to the Kingdom, and was obligated to keep the capital safe. Between Feydous and Meneroc were Maltrine and Gendle, respectively. Maltrine had studied as a priestess most of her life, and currently held the position of third high priestess of the moon goddess at the temple in Colaerth. Gendle was the quietest of the children. He had chosen the life of a scholar, and was accustomed to sitting alone in study. For this reason he joined in the mirth and story telling very little. When he did have something to say, everyone was sure to pay attention; not only was he a scholar and philosopher of great repute, but he was the keeper of records in Colaerth, and he alone had access to all the ancient knowledge of the kingdom. Meneroc came next, and as the third eldest son, he was given a choice as to what his fate would be. From the youngest age, he had felt an affinity with the forest around him, the animals in particular. He studied with druids for several years, and in these studies learned more of the rangers and their goddess. With them, he found elves who held the same views and beliefs as him, and had determined to follow the path of a ranger. Nelive followed Meneroc in years. She taught the elves just starting their schooling about the history of their race and began introducing the various gods and what it meant to follow them. Glothoin was next, and he ran the noble district's only inn, The Soaring Table. The inn gained it's name by being located in the tallest limbs of an ancient tree and serving the best evenfeast in Colaerth. Glothoin had found great success as an innkeeper, so much as to invite his younger brother, Rutoun, to set up a small merchant's shop in the corner of the taproom. Rutoun, who followed Glothoin in age, sold small magical trinkets. They were mostly silly baubles such as hairpins that were enchanted with faerie fire, or earrings made to glow with moonlight. For those who knew him though, he dealt in far more powerful items, such as rings and headbands, or even armors, enchanted with magics that could protect the one wearing them. Pheloneon was the only druid in the family, and lived two days away in the Hursous Lake valley, in a dense and wild forest. This is where many druids recieved their training in their youth, and some of them from Pheloneon himself. Next was Eldicar, who was closest with Eldicar of all his siblings. When Meneroc had found the path of the ranger, he has sat and talked for hours with Eldicar of the wondrous beauty of the woods, and of the gifts the goddess had given him with animals. For Eldicar there was no longer a question as to where his path lay, and he began training and studying the worship of the goddess of the wood and the ways of the ranger. Next in line was Bitre, who at the age of ninety was about to complete her apprenticeship and set out on her own. She was considered one of the best students ever to study at Colaerth's magic academy, and none doubted that she would be one of the greatest mages the city had ever seen. Her younger brother Wylonel, the last of the children, was also studying magic. He also was in the top of his class, and was apprenticed to the most powerful archmage in Colaerth. At only 80 years of age, he still had ten years to apprentice, but already his magic had surpassed that of many of the mages in the kingdom.
    Besides being the royal family of Colaerth, the family was special in another way. Fifty years ago, the queen's brother had died, and without hesitation, she and the king had taken in his four children and raised them as their own, even allowing them the titles of princes and princesses of Colaerth. Nelive, Rutuon, Bitre and Wylonel were never treated as if they weren't the king and queens own children.
    As the family ate their meal, the brothers and sisters shared tales and jests, and even Gendle joined in, comparing Meneroc and Eldicar's story of their adventure together to one he had read about recently. In the story, two brother's claimed to be great adventurers but they really just spent their nights in taprooms, comsuming large amounts of wine. Queen Verisun smiled to herself at the end of the table, glad that her children could smile and enjoy each other's company dering their meal. She looked up to see King Minleaous smiling at her, a sad look in his eyes. She met his eyes and nodded. He returned the nod and stood, waiting for all of his children to quiet before beginning. Once he had their attention, he sat back down and began explaining why they were all called together.
    "My children, as I'm sure you've all concluded, we have more purpose for asking you all to come home tonight than feasting. He glanced around at them, and seeing their nods, he continued. "We have received foreboding news, and in times like these, our large family is at an advantage. As you know, Maltrine, the priestesses have recently sensed the coming of an evil of great power to the realms. Until recently, we remained mostly unconcerned, feeling that it was not the problem of the elves. However, three weeks ago, another sign told them that the great evil would soon be at our borders, and only the strongest bonds would hold against the darkness. We know not when this darkness will come, or for certain what it will be, but we do know that it will threaten the kingdom greatly." He sat quietly for a few moments, looking to each of them to gauge their reactions. To the last, they sat calmly, waiting for their parents to explain to them what was needed of them. "My children," the queen began, "we have called upon you all to defend Colaerth, for what bond is stronger than that of family. We have great power in this room, in each of you, and we would ask that you all stay within our borders for a time, using your skills to help us prepare for whatever may befall. What say you, my children?" Around the table, the royal family sat silent. Finally, Gendle stood and spoke. "I can not speak for my brothers and sisters, but I will do anything you need of me." He was answered with a chorus of agreement from all around. He nodded and looked to his father. "Tell us what we need to know."

"I do not know how you ever hope to be a mage of any merit!" The old mage was always yelling thus when Myrus cast spells. "You have to concentrate boy. And I'll hear none of your excuses." He paced back and forth angrilly, muttering under his breath. For several minutes Myrus waited, hearing "orc brained" more times than he would like. He would be up all night trying to master this spell. "Why are you just sitting there?" Myrus jumped to his feet, and immedeatly began gathering spell components to try again. This was his life, and had been for years. Before there was only tragedy.

As a child, Myrus had lost his parents when their village was raided by pirates. They had lived on the Isles, and had been fishing when he heard the sreams and saw the smoke. He hid amid the rocks and dunes, waiting for the pirates to leave. When he finally made his way back to town five days later, he found all but a few of the people he had know all his life dead, including his parents. He had nowhere to go, and so he started out for the city to live as a beggar on the street. He set out with nothing, not even a waterskin, knowing nothing of the world, and only eight years old. He would have surely died along that road if the crumudgionly old mage hadn't come along and taken him in. At first he kept him company, and did tidying up, but as he grew older, he began taking on the cooking and cleaning responsibilities, followed by the gathering of components for spells. He had worked his way slowly to the point he was at today, twelve years later.

"You know these spells Myrus. USE them. Feel the weave. You are saying the words, but not working the weave to do your bidding. You need to reach a deeper level of concentration!" Jurha had been saying this for two years now. He loved Myrus as a child, and it pained him to be so harsh, but it was neccessary  now that he was apprenticed to him. Jurha waved him off, telling him to go and meditate, and then cast a globe of silence on him making it impossible to hear or be heard. Myrus cast a sullen look over his shoulder as he noticed the spell take effect.

Myrus reminded himself that Jurha was a kind person behind his bluster, and for that reason their must be merit to his anger. He had reached the temple to the Goddess of Magic and was sitting staring at her depiction in marble, lit with purplish-blue faerie fire. As he stared at it he began to think he could see her moving, but when he tried to clear his vision, he realized she was in fact,slowly lifting her arms and extending her fingers. At their tips, small crackling light the same color as the faerie fire appeared. Myrus stared slack jawed at the statue that had come alive. So intent was he that he didn't even notice when Jurha entered, and continued not to notice as the old mage stood smiling in the back of the room.

As Myrus stared at the statue he felt himself sinking deeper and deeper into his meditation. He began to feel a tingling sensation, starting in the pit of his stomach and spreading outwards. He almost panicked, but as soon as he realized it wasn't increasing to a painful level, he calmed, letting his mind and sight focus on the statue. She was still moving her arms and fingers, but now seemed to be looking right at Myrus. She stopped moving and stood staring at Myrus, her hair still flowing around her as if a wind blew through the room. "She's waiting to see you work your art boy," Jurha said, crossing the room to stand at Myrus' side. "You've prayed, and the Lady knows I've prayed, if for nothing more than a reprieve from you thickheadedness. Well, now she's answered, and through her you've felt the magic around you. Now she wants to see what you've learned." With this, Jurha bowed to the Lady, and walked over to stand next to her. Myrus stood a moment longer, astonished by what he had to do. A trial of his art by the Lady herself! He knew not what had caused her personal interest, but he determined he would not dissapoint her.

Myrus slowly let his mind drift to his meditations, finding that for the first time, he was able to do this while still paying a good degree of attention to what was going on around him. His mind found the first runes of the spell he had been studying, and he slowly and quietly began the incantaion. He moved his fingers in the intricate way required for this high level spell flawlessly, for the first time ever, and even Jurha nodded his approval as he watched. As Myrus completed the spell, he spread his arms, palms toward the floor, and blue and silver flames appeared on the ground, spreading to form a circle around him. With a thought, he was able to spread the circle to surround the two spectators, both wearing a small smile on their faces as Myrus manipulated the difficult spell with his mind. He walked towards them, stopping short and kneeling before the Lady. Jurha laughed good naturedly. "Get up ye fool. I know I am wonderous, but there's no need to be kneeling before me!" Myrus looked up, and saw that the statue was merely a statue again. He looked to Jurha who responded with a shrug and more chuckling. "Mysteries, son. Never forget that." The older wizard patted his apprentice on the back, and they walked out of the temple.

Many years had passed since the tall stranger had looked upon these woods. All around him were trees, so thick as to block out all but a few scattered rays of the midmorning sun. He bent down and took a handfull of dirt from the secret path at his feet, bringing it to his nose. A snapping branch to his right sounded harshly in the relative silence of the dense forest. He threw the dirt to the ground, and sprang up a nearby tree, climbing nimbly to a conceled location higher up in it's heavy boughs. Another snap sounded, and the stranger strung his magical bow. He waited silently for several minutes, but heard nothing else. Shortly after he began his descent, he noticed someone just up the path, and heading in his direction. He hastily climbed to the best defense he could find in the low levels of the tree. He had no time to set an arrow before the person reached the tree he was concealed in. He only hoped they hadn't seen him yet.
The person coming down the path was not in fact a person, but an elf. Tall for his race, he stood close to six feet, with pale skin, and long dark hair. He wore simple armor, but the stranger suspected it was magically enhanced somehow. He carried a sword on each hip, and a bow on his back. When he came to the strangers tree, he stopped and looked directly at him. "You may as well come down Meneroc, I saw you when you stuck your head out of the tree a moment ago. These woods are still my home. And I notice any new heads that may be sticking out of the trees." Meneroc came down from the tree and embraced the other elf. "It is good to see you Eldicar." He backed away, holding the other elf at armslength, studying him. "You've grown up well little brother," Meneroc joked, tousling the youger elfs hair. Younger being one hundred and four to Meneroc's one hundred and seventy-two.
The brothers continued down the path, heading for the town where they spent the first 50 years of their lives, and still came to when they had quenched their thirst for adventure temporarily. Meneroc hadn't seen it, or his parents, in almost fifty years. He and Eldicar shared stories of adventures each had had since they had last met, coincidentally, on the same journey three years previously. Suddenly, Meneroc stopped, signalling for his brother to do the same. "The snapping branches?" he asked. Eldicar smiled impishly. "How else would I have gotten you up the tree and scared, big brother." Meneroc shook his head and chuckled, and they resumed their tales of adventure while they made the half day walk to their home.
Just as the sun was dipping below the horizon, the brothers arrived in Colaerth, the center of the elven kingdom. Here one could find merchants from all the lands, with exotic wares and strange accents right along side trees that reached so high they seemed endless from the gound. These trees housed the thousands of elves who chose to live within the towns borders rather than in the wilds of the woods. All around the trees, platforms could be seen, and thin, almost invisible rope bridges and stairs, leading from platform to platform. They wrapped around the trees, leading up, and every fifteen feet, a platform with a small ornate building could be seen. The buildings were staggered, starting at the right on the lowest level, and alternated all the way to the top. Squares and circles of light could be seen farther up in the trees' heavy branches, showing there to be homes spread throughout the massive limbs above. The same thing could be seen in most trees in this area.
Eldicar held his tounge as they walked through town, knowing his brother wanted to take in his home after so many years. They walked down the main road for a short while, heading exactly straight. On all sides were the residential trees, but soon smaller buildings on ground level appeared, their signfronts announcing them as shops of all varieties. They were small stone buildings with colorful glass windows showing firelight within. Meneroc and Eldicar turned right down a narrower path and the trees seemed to thicken. Older, larger trees, grew here, and under their massiveness, smaller trees were able to grow to twenty feet and more in some spots. Lights could be seen in these trees too, but not in such numbers as previously. These trees housed the nobles. The homes had been built in these trees as the forest grew, and every generation did what was needed to keep their ancient home from breaking apart as the trees expanded. They passed tree after tree, but still they continued.
Ahead, a gate could be seen blocking the path. An elf on a white horse paced back in forth in front of it, looking alert and nervous about two figures, fully armed, approaching him. "You have come too far. The King and Queen will see no one not of their kingdom after dark," he yelled from afar. The brothers looked at each other and grinned, deciding to use Eldicar's tactic from earlier. As they approached, neither one answered. The guard grew more nervous and drew his sword. "Back!" he yelled, voice deadly calm. "By order of.." just then, Meneroc and Eldicar came out of the shadows of the massive trees. "You were saying?" Eldicar teased the guard.