Qetran Odyssey: Crimson Prophecy, #1

By Derrick Hall

Fleeing from the soldiers razing her peaceful elvish neighborhood and imprisoning her neighbors, fifteen-year-old Enara stumbles into an ancient quest. Magic has gone missing, and only the prophesied hero can bring it back.

Haunted by dark and alarming visions, Enara is forced to partner with an unlikely crew, including a Minotaur and an enigmatic elven ranger, in order to save the elves, and the entire world, from destruction by a mysterious genocidal army that has cursed half a continent.

Achieving her destiny will force her to find her inner strength, but could mean sacrificing everything she's ever loved.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Derrick Hall
• Release date: Nov 5, 2022
• ISBN: 9798223693390

Book preview

Derrick Hall

Qetran Odyssey

Copyright © 2022 by Derrick Hall

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, scanning, or otherwise without written permission from the publisher. It is illegal to copy this book, post it to a website, or distribute it by any other means without permission.

This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

Derrick Hall asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

First edition

Advisor: Christina Lefebvre

Cover art by Rocky Mountain Arts

This book was professionally typeset on Reedsy

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Contents

Blood & Steel

I. INTO THE UNKNOWN

1. Flight

2. Stories & Rumors

3. Draw Them In

4. Complications

5. Silence

6. The Event

7. Myths & Legends

8. Raw Materials

9. The Hollow City

10. Best Laid Plans

11. Unnatural Darkness

12. Self Reflection

13. Preparation

14. The River

15. Bumps & Bruises

16. Glass Wires

17. Beginnings

18. Strong Lessons

19. The Decline

20. Brief Reprieve

21. Secrets

22. The Climb

23. The Mire Camp

24. Fog

25. Dreams

26. Arrival

27. Dawnlord

28. Inner Workings

29. Tension

30. Leather & Steel

31. Sparks

32. Resonance

33. At What Cost?

34. Wild Magic

35. A New Morning

36. Shared Fate

37. An Impressive Door

38. A Priceless Gift

II. THE LIES OF FATE

39. The Folds

40. Secret Sauce

41. Liberation

42. A Means to an End

43. Evasion

44. For the Love of Roses

45. The Armory

46. Time to Fly

47. Excellency

48. Berylis

49. Soil & Stone

50. Rider of the Storm Wind

51. Betrayal

52. Keep Your Distance

53. Departure

54. Impossible

55. Familiar

56. Wyvern

57. Enemy of My Enemy

58. Into the Fray

59. Temple Gates

60. Tough on the Inside

61. Pretender

62. The Wellspring

63. Shadow Dancer

64. Rage

65. Ritual

66. The Precipice of Fate

67. For All Who Wish to be Free

68. Alewyn

69. Return

70. Obligation

71. Farewell

72. Aftermath

73. Part of Me

74. Coronation

Characters

World

Author’s Note

Special thanks to my wife, Kris, who supported me through endless hours development and writing.

I also need to thank Christina, for putting up with my crazy ideas and helping me distill them into the world of Qetra. I owe you a great many drinks.

For my son.

May you never lose your sense of wonder and imagination.

Blood & Steel

Aroleth, captain of the citadel guard, urgently marched into the caverns that made up the sanctum below the city of Sevandil to find the king kneeling in front of the Font. He was flanked by two of the spire guard, the silver chased engravings on their black armor reflecting the odd blue-green light that filled the cavern. Aroleth stopped five paces from the king and bowed, as was custom.

My Lord, the Confederation has breached the outer barriers. They will reach the city within the day if left unchecked. The guards glanced from her to one another, worry, or perhaps fear, visible in their eyes.

Let them come. Caedar’s voice was soft and thoughtful. She nearly missed his reply.

Sir?

Hold the walls as long as you can, but let them come. The Caedar repeated. Do not waste our armies chasing them down in the Mountains.

Yes, my Lord. I will have our troops withdraw to the wall. Aroleth turned sharply and made to leave the cavern.

Aroleth, what is your purpose?

She turned to face the king, who was now standing and facing her. He wore a plain tunic and leggings with knee-high leather boots dyed a bloody red. The clothing was simple, not the expected garb for a king.

I am the commander of the city guard and the armies of Sevandil. Your armies, Lord. It was not entirely the correct reply, technically speaking. The king commanded the armies, but recently he had left his troops in her charge while he wasted his hours endlessly staring into the font. The battle had gone well for a time, keeping the Confederation out of Elven borders, or at least on the fringes. Though, there is something to be said for powerful mages and brute strength. Even the best efforts of her rangers could not hold them forever.

I did not ask what you do, I asked you of your purpose. In the world as a whole. In history. his tone held an almost fatherly quality causing Caedar’s face to soften. Do you not wonder what role you play?

I have not the time to ask questions of the cosmos, Lord.

The king nodded and turned to the font once again.

I do. I lie awake at night wondering how I fit in the narrative, if the endless pages of history will bear my name. For good or ill. He paused and turned back to the crystal, Did you know that I sometimes see things as I stare at the font? Swirling visions deep inside the folds of light and magic. They show me things, reveal things.

I was not aware. The old man is losing it. Perhaps ask the seers about them.

I have. They say that I see the future played out within the magic. Prophecy. Do you believe that?

The seers have more knowledge of such things than I, Lord. I would trust them.

"Perhaps. The visions have been dark and troubling of late. I have seen the end of the elves here in Sevandil, my end. But I have seen the beginning as well. A new beginning, rising from overgrown ruins to a magnificent city once again. Tangled within it all is a great warrior. Young, strong, with hair as fiery as her spirit. ‘Rohanis! Rohanis!’ her armies chant as she stands before them. Savior of the land. Caedar chuckled, Now she has a mark to make on history. I fear we will be forgotten. Lost to time as an army defeated."

No, Lord! We will fight, and hold the wall. Aroleth countered, her anger rising. She would not accept defeat so easily.

Yes, we will fight, and we will die. If they can breach the barriers so quickly, there is little left to us but blood and steel. We shall have our fill of both before long. Caedar held his hand out to one of his guards and was handed a golden amulet set with a ruby and a long thin sword with a gentle curve. Elegant, but deadly and she knew the king was quite fluent in its use. He set a brisk pace as he left the cavern, tying the sword belt as he went, his guards close behind. Come, we will hold the walls to the bitter end.

Yes, my Lord! Her lust for battle already rising.

They exited the tunnels near the base of the temple and stepped into the sunlight that was angling through the trees in streaks. There they stopped for a moment to watch the flurry of activity in the citadel as preparations were made for battle and a probable siege. All around them, rugged mountains soared over the capital of the elves as it sprawled through the forest, each building placed between the trees rather than remove them. Aroleth forwarded the king’s orders to one of her men nearby and watched him set off at a run to relay her message.

Caedar opened his palm and stared into the ruby at the center of the amulet. It swirled with the same folds of magic as the font. He slipped his head through the chain, and with a deep breath, a glittering suit of armor materialized around his form. He shifted his shoulders to settle the new weight before looking to Aroleth, his face grim and determined.

Let us cut our place in history, shall we?

At your side? Proudly.

I

Into the Unknown

1

Flight

The shaking just kept getting worse. This whole travel by cart thing was not as comfortable as she had expected. Definitely not like the well-sprung coaches that floated through the ward on their way to the richer human districts. The point was not comfort, the point was to get somewhere, but no matter how long they bumped and rattled along this pig trail that somehow passed for a road, their little party never seemed any nearer the mountains and the promise of a safe home. The bumps though! She was pretty sure at this point that even if they stopped she would just keep rattling around like a marble in a bottle. There was no end. The only relief was the near-total darkness? That was all wrong. It had been midday mere seconds ago.

Enara! a voice called through the night, Enara! Wake up! Wake up!

Mother? She asked, wiping the blur of sleep from her eyes.

Oh, divines bless! Get your cloak, quickly now. We must leave.

The tone of urgency drew Enara from her foggy state just as her eyes finally adjusted to the darkness. She knew her mother would not wake her without reason. The older elf was cloaked and hooded, with a full pack and bedroll already on her back. The meager light of a shuttered candle lantern revealed another pack leaned against the door frame.

We have to leave. Now! Enara’s mother stayed long enough to make sure that she was moving to dress before retreating to the only other room in their apartment, a combined kitchen and living area, and peeking through the knothole in the door. They kept the hole sealed from the weather with an old cork her mother had smuggled home from her work in the tavern down the lane. Enara noticed in passing that the fire they used to heat their small rooms was burned down to embers.

It must be three or four in the morning

Mother, what’s wrong? Why are we leaving? Enara asked, swinging the pack over her shoulders. What‘s happening?

Enara, my darling, I need you to trust me and do as I say. Without question, okay? Her tone was earnest if urgent.

Enara was worried now, and despite her internal effort to look strong and fearless, it must have shown on her face. Her mother walked over and gently cradled Enara’s face.

I am the moon…

The phrase brought the tears Enara was trying desperately to hold back.

And I am the tide… she completed the phrase and nodded as her mother gently wiped the tears from her face and pulled up her hood. The simple gesture always did a lot to comfort her fears. The idea that where one goes the other will always follow seemed trite, but Enara knew that the sentiment in the exchange was genuine.

Stay with me. We must hurry.

With that, her mother opened the door just a crack and peered out into the lane. The bits of light that leaked through were a ruddy orange and Enara could smell smoke. Something nearby was burning.

With a look, her mother opened the door fully and hurried out into the snowy lane. Enara hurried behind, staying as close as she could. The lane was not wide or clean like the main thoroughfare closer to the gate. There wasn’t even room for a horse. The buildings were close, claustrophobic by many standards, their second floors overhanging the street and nearly blocking out the sky. What sky was visible was covered by clouds of smoke that reflected back the orange of the fires.

Enara’s mother led her through the lane, dodging half-frozen puddles of night soil and stopping frequently to look and listen, Enara noticed more lit lamps behind drawn shutters.

Why are so many people up at this hour?

They followed the lane for a good way before her mother ducked into an alley between the candle maker and basket weavers’ shops. Enara nearly missed the turn as it was almost too narrow to walk through and half-hidden by a stack of crates. She squeezed into the passage behind her mother and inched along, noticing an indistinct din growing louder the further they went.

A hand motion from her mother signaled a stop. They had come to one of the larger streets in the ward. Enara could see the tailor’s shop across the road, its expensive glass windows were broken, the door hanging crookedly from one hinge. Her chest tightened.

Was Ishram okay?

He was a stern man but had always been kind to her when she came for buttons or thread, often letting her dig through his scraps for bits of fabric.

Her mother moved at a crouch out of the alley and to the left. Enara followed, her fear barely under control. She remained stooped as she ran a dozen yards up the lane to join her mother who kneeled in the shadows behind a stack of barrels. The older woman’s frame was softer than her own, but they were of a height, and the resemblance was unmistakable. The noise was much louder now, resolving into layers. Shouts over top of crackling flames and the clank of armored boots occasionally punctuated with high-pitched screams and wailing.

Something is very wrong.

Enara peeked around a barrel to see further up the lane. It curved away, following the curve of the city wall, but she could see the shadows of soldiers darkening the ash-stained snow. Lit by the fires no doubt. They had weapons drawn.

Not good.

Enara felt a tap on her side and she turned to see her mother point at another alley across from them. She nodded understanding, adjusted her pack and they were off again.

They carried on this way for what felt like an eternity. Dodging increasingly more frequent patrols as they navigated the alleys and side streets of the ward. At one point they had to crawl into a coal bin to avoid a group of soldiers as they roused and pulled the elvish occupants from a block of rooms before putting a torch to the building.

That was someone’s home!" Enara thought as the rage built inside of her.

They led the terrorized elves off down the street to divines only knew where. Some new torture she was sure. Enara didn’t know what exactly was happening, but the climate in the city had been progressively destabilizing for months, and current events only made clearer the urgency of their flight.

The fine covering of coal dust acquired in their hiding space made them harder to spot in the shadows, and the remainder of their circuitous route through the city was traversed without incident. They eventually stopped in another narrow alley, this time between a general store and a cobbler. Her mother knocked an odd sequence on a low hatch that Enara assumed to be another coal chute, adding to her surprise when it opened and warm light spilled into the alley along with the smell of hot food. A face was silhouetted in the opening. Enara couldn’t make out the features, but a rough voice whispered to them.

The girl first. Hurry. The urgency in his voice was obvious.

Enara glanced at her mother who nodded, and remembering her promise, hurried to slip through but her pack got hung up in the narrow opening halting her progress.

I’m stuck! Enara let out a squeaky whisper. Panic was definitely building in her gut, her chest burning with tension. Her mother glanced back toward the sliver of road visible from the narrow alleyway. It was starting to lighten with ruddy torchlight as a group of soldiers moved closer, paying no heed to the noise they created.

Trust him. I will find you. Her mother’s forceful whisper ordered as she produced a small knife from beneath her cloak and cut the shoulder straps on Enara’s pack. She dropped the last few feet into the cellar and landed in a heap as the door shut above her head and the strange man locked it from the inside.

Enara leaped up from where she had landed on the floor of the cellar and made for the door.

Mother! She cried, only to have the word muffled as the man caught her mid-flight and arrested her desperate rush toward the now vacant opening. His arms were firm but gentle, holding her in place, and his embrace had the secondary, but no doubt purposeful effect of muffling her panicked sobs.

You’re safe here, girl. Your mother did what she had to. Just breathe. His voice was deep and rough, but somehow comforting. He had an almost musical accent that was barely noticeable, but just different enough it seemed to linger in the air. Enara knew nothing of this man that held her, but he seemed more than a shopkeeper. There was a story behind that voice.

She slowly let her sobs subside and looked up at the man. Will she be okay? She asked. Almost pleading.

Aye, she will be just fine. Don’t you worry. He smiled.

But how can you know? The soldiers… her question was left unfinished by the tears that threatened to return.

Nothing drives a mother like her love for her child. She said she will find you, and she will.

My name is Enara. She hesitated to say those words. It was a concerted effort to let herself put any amount of trust in the burly human. Humans did not have the best track record for trustworthiness.

I know. It is a lovely name. He replied. His voice was softer than before, if still rough and gravelly. Wear it with pride.

That seemed an odd comment but Enara didn’t overthink it.

I still don’t know who you are.

I am no one of consequence, but you may call me Raevan. He had turned away and was assessing the damage to her pack.

Raevan? Like the bird? It was not a common name in Tualan. Perhaps it was a code name.

Raevan stopped for a second before turning back with a chuckle.

I suppose you would be right, though the spelling is different. Not that I reckon you will need to spell it.

Enara could not help herself. She laughed. It was a tight and almost cynical laugh, bordering on a bark, but a laugh nonetheless. She felt some small part of the tension she had been carrying melt away.

I need to stitch these up. We have to get you moving soon.

I can do it. My mother taught me.

Raevan gave a curt nod before rifling around in a small chest for a bit and bringing her a spool of heavy thread and a bone needle. Make it strong. It needs to last.

Enara found a relatively comfortable spot in the corner on a pile of sacks near the lamp and set to work repairing her pack. She worked carefully, taking time to make sure the stitches were consistent and strong. A few minutes later Raevan brought her a bowl of brown stew and a chunk of dark bread. It smelled amazing, but Enara’s appetite was lessened by adrenaline and worry. She had never left the city before, and without her mother, she felt small and alone, despite being nearly sixteen. Still, she knew she would need her strength, regardless of what happened from here, and ate what she could.

As she made the repairs, two more elves arrived, much in the same way she had, hastily dropping through the trap door in the alley. There was a woman who by her appearance had to have been over 200. Extremely old by elven standards. While elves were not immortal (no one was sure they had ever really been immortal, despite what the legends said), they lived unusually long lives. 500 years had once been the average, but that had grown less and less over the millennia as elves became less influential, and magic left the world. These days an elf was lucky to see 120 years. Despite her apparent age, this elf woman moved well, though she did not speak, and Enara did not catch a name.

A bit later a man arrived. He was tall and slender, muscular for an elf. He carried a bow and quiver of arrows, but no pack. Enara could see the slick sheen of sweat on his bare arms, despite the winter chill and the night air. She guessed he had been running hard for a long time. Enara returned to her stitching as he held a hushed conversation with Raevan which included several glances her way. She pretended not to notice.

Enara. Grab your things, girl. Raevan called just as she finished off her last stitch with a tight knot and trimmed the thread. She climbed off of her pile of sacks and walked over. Dropping the needle and thread into his hand. He took her pack, and briefly inspected her work before helping her into the straps. Your mother taught you well. This is excellent work.

Thank you. She replied, once again feeling the absence of her mother.

Here, you keep this. You may need it again. She felt Rayvan slip the needle and thread into her pack. She nodded her thanks.

The tall elf smiled at her. I am Dravos. We will be traveling together. His stance held relaxed confidence, almost a swagger. The kind that comes with practiced skill. He seemed friendly, but she knew he was dangerous if he needed to be.

Enara. Nice to meet you. She turned to Raevan, Where are we going?

Ah. I am not even sure where. Far from here, somewhere safe for elves. He replied. I am really just the middleman. You’ll meet others who know more than I. It is safer that way.

Enara was unsure how to take that, but it made sense that no one person knew the entire plan. If someone along the way was arrested they couldn’t endanger the rest. The older elf woman had joined them now, still silent.

Raevan pulled aside a large cabinet to reveal a tunnel. Follow this to the fork, then go left. After that follow the water. It will lead you out of the city. Someone will be nearby to lead you from there.

Divines bless you for your help, Raevan, Dravos said. Taking the man’s forearm in a tight grip that Enara recognized as a human gesture.

Travel swiftly, but do not disregard caution. It is a dangerous road. Raevan replied. He swept his gaze across their small group. The elves all nodded.

They were given a small lamp which the elf woman carried, and they set off into the tunnel which soon closed behind them as Raevan moved the cabinet back into place. Enara heard a lock mechanism click. There was no way back now.

2

Stories & Rumors

The deck heaved sharply as their ship crested yet another swell and began the descent. The waves were smaller now but that was little comfort. Enara had no idea how the old vessel had managed not to break apart or capsize in the storms that had plagued this part of their journey, but it had seen them through, despite several severed ropes, a torn sail, and a broken foremast. The crew had managed to repair all of the damage with the supplies onboard. She had taken to huddling next to some barrels of drinking water near the bow so as to have fresh air and some sort of reference point on the world as it tipped and turned around her. Her position left her exposed and perpetually soaked by the churning water that overtopped the deck every few minutes, but it seemed a better option than being thrown around below decks.

Enara struggled to her feet and heaved a stomach full of nothing over the rail. Just sour bile and a few mouthfuls of water.

So much for that.

Enara had never considered herself one to be motion sick, but the last three weeks at sea had proven otherwise. The first week had been calm enough. No real issue there, other than a sunburn. After that though, things had gotten rougher. The old elf woman that had traveled with them had given her some herbs, but Enara had been unable to keep those down either. The captain had warned them before they set sail that it was too late in the season to expect a smooth crossing, but Dravos had insisted, and the captain had acquiesced. They had been tossed about by storm after storm for nearly two weeks, and while the storms were finally calming, Enara was having the roughest time of it.

After they had left Raevan’s cellar, their small group had traveled through the tunnels beneath the city for what had been only a few hours but felt like days. They eventually came to an iron gate, overgrown with bushes and vines that were browning in the early winter cold. Dravos pushed on it, and it swung open freely on well-oiled hinges. Not even a creak. Past the gate and a distance into the woods, they met a woodcutter who handed Dravos a small piece of parchment with a map drawn on it. The tall elf again took the lead, avoiding towns, roads, and people in general as they cut across the country. It took a week or more of walking and cold, fireless camps, but they came to a sheltered cove surrounded by cliffs that lay well away from any of the usual ports. A haggard-looking ship was moored in the harbor there, all manner of crew busy loading supplies. There was even a minotaur among their number. They boarded the ship to find that thirty more elves were supposed to be joining them, but only six had made the journey. The rest had been captured or killed. Enara asked the other refugees about her mother but no one had seen her.

The morning after they had located the ship they set sail with the tide, bound for new lands, and the promise of a better life.

There you are, Enara! Dravos called, approaching from near the middle of the main deck. He navigated the tilting deck with practiced ease, leading Enara to think he had spent some amount of time as a sailor.

Same place I’ve been, she replied.

True enough. I have news though. The captain says we should be approaching land and can expect to be off this boat by tomorrow.

Well, that is news. I thought this wretched heaving would never end.

I thought you would appreciate that. He smiled.

I will appreciate it much more when I’m finally on land, but thank you for telling me. Dravos nodded in reply and started to turn away. Dravos?

He stopped. Yes?

What do you know about where we are going? The country, the elf village? Enara had been mulling over the question for days now, searching for a good time to ask it. With the prospect of actually reaching the places she had only heard about, it seemed as good a time as any.

Not much. Stories and rumors mostly. He leaned against one of the barrels and crossed his arms.

You’ve never been across the sea?

That’s not what you asked. I have, many times, but that was long ago.

I knew it! I knew you used to be a sailor! I’ve seen you helping the crew.

I was for a time. But you asked a question. Do you want my answer? Enara nodded.

Okay. He took a deep breath. We are going to the land of Qetra. It is not a kingdom as such, since there is no longer a king. Now it is more a collection of independent city-states, each city and its ruler controlling a portion of the old kingdom. Qetra is a beautiful land. Hills that roll from horizon to horizon, only to turn to barren wastes and desert or soaring mountain peaks, depending on which way you go. There are herds of animals that can cover all the land in sight and make the ground shake when they pass. Nomadic tribes that live in odd tents and live solely off of the land. There are rivers so wide you cannot see the other side, and deep enough to allow ships to pass far inland. He stopped and stared into the distance, seemingly lost in some vision from his past.

It sounds beautiful. So much better than the ward. Enara paused, What about this elf village? Do you know what it is like?

Dravos seemed to shake off his memories.

That I am afraid I cannot answer. All I know is that it is in the mountains. All elves are welcome there, and treated as equal.

Sounds too good to be true, Enara said, noting that the sun had nearly set.

Perhaps. We will find out for ourselves soon enough. It seems these storms have calmed for now. You should try to get some rest. We will have new adventures tomorrow. He turned and walked back the way he had come.

Enara took his suggestion, moving below deck to find an empty hammock. She did not find sleep easily, but the gentle motion of the hammock on a newly calmed sea eventually led her there. Her mind filled with visions of what the land of Qetra must be like.

3

Draw Them In

Tiarsus rode to the top of the hill and reined in his horse. The rise offered an impressive view overlooking the river delta, and just on the horizon, the southern seas. Behind him, the plain was marked by a winding trail of soldiers and supply carts, extending for over a mile. A large herd of mixed livestock brought up the rear, being pushed along by a smattering of herdsmen. He returned his gaze to the delta and examined the landscape once again. Far to the east, the grass prairie dried up and melded into a sand desert, dotted with dunes that constantly shifted with the hot winds. To the west was more of the grassland, and to the northwest rested Volis.

Hoofbeats signaled the arrival of another rider, and Tiarsus turned. Nylathria rode up beside him, skillfully handling her mount. The horse was massive, dwarfing even his own, and black as the night.

Your Excellency. Tiarsus dipped his head in greeting.

Report, are we off course? Nylathria asked.

Not by much. If we angle a bit further east, we should arrive at the city of Prossa by tomorrow night. He gestured toward the ocean.

Good. How long from there to Volis? she asked.

Four, maybe five days brisk march, Tiarsus replied.

Excellent. We split the army at Prossa. Send a detachment back to Senvandil with any civilians, another east along the coast to take the next towns, and the third accompanies us to Volis. Nylathria ordered.

At your command. Tiarsus inclined his head again and turned his horse back to the slowly advancing column.

Tiarsus. Nylathria called, her voice firm, No more mistakes.

Yes, Your Excellency. he nodded again and directed his horse down the hillside.

* * *

Prossa was less of a proper city and more of a large walled town. Situated along a river near the coast, it was mainly a supply hub for ships moving goods further east. Stone walls dotted with towers surrounded the town which was surrounded by the river on one side, and artificial canals along the others. Only two gates breached the walls, one at the western port, and another to the north. Both were sealed with drawbridges raised. The wall was well manned by guards, most sporting bows. On the port side, the towers were topped with repurposed ship’s ballistae to better defend the harbor itself against pirates and the like. The overall impression that Prossa gave Tiarsus was one of a tough town inhabited by tough people, and he was glad that a siege or outright attack was not the plan.

It was well before dawn when Tiarsus and Nylathria rode to the foot of the northern drawbridge. Tiarsus hung back as she dismounted and walked to the edge of the canal. He didn’t know what she did next, or how, but he heard her chanting softly, and steam began to rise from the canal. Fish began to pop to the surface, dead. A reddish glow emanated from Nylathria as she waved her hands and the cloud of fume was pushed over the walls and into the city.

Her work complete, she returned and remounted her horse.

Now we wait, she said, turning and riding back to the waiting army encampment.

They didn’t have to wait long before the screams could be heard. They were not screams of pain, but rather confusion and panic. It seemed that Nylathria’s magic had done its job.

Order the army to form ranks. Tiarsus told a waiting lieutenant, I want them ready to march on my command.

Sir! the lieutenant came to attention with a sharp salute and set off on his mission.

The wails and screams continued as chaos grew in the city. Tiarsus lingered until the town had mostly quieted down again, and mounted his horse. Riding to the head of the army, he ordered the advance. As one, the gathered host marched over the last rise to settle in the plain before the northern gates.

He raised his sword and the army stopped.

Elves of Prossa, you are free of your masters! Join us, and live in peace, free of servitude as we rebuild the Empire of the Elves! he called out, some spell, likely Nylathria’s work, amplifying his voice to be heard throughout the city. We ride at midday.

Tiarsus reigned his horse and rode back through the neatly arrayed ranks of his army. As he rode, he heard a loud crack as the gate exploded inward, followed by the grating of metal as the drawbridge lowered.

Nearly five hundred elves from Prossa had joined them by noon when he called for the company to divide as Nylathria had ordered. He sent two hundred soldiers back north Senvandil, three thousand further east along the coast, and the remainder would track west to Volis.

Six cities, towns, and other settlements had joined them thus far. Tiarsus grinned, his