Do I even remember how to write a fantasy story?

[Tamaranis]

Almok da’Faalon and Taelth da’Murak circled one another, each of them holding a long sword in one hand and a short, heavy parrying blade in the other. Both were breathing heavily, Taelth more so.

 

They came together again weaving swords in a way that most mortal swordsmen would find difficult to follow. Each began a feint, switched off into a different feint, and flowed from there into a third before actually committing to an attack that the other saw coming anyway.

 

Both fighters were a perfect example of elven swordsmanship. Tall, lean and tanned, elves didn’t long carry scars or injuries. They were tired, but even in exhaustion there was a distinct sort of nobility in their appearance. Had a human been there to observe them they would have seemed perfect, and their fighting no less so. It was the sort of contest that inspired poets.

 

Their feet moved as quickly as their swords, constantly changing stances even in the rare moments when their position was static. Neither one experienced a lack of balance, or less that total control of their weapons. That would have ended the duel. The swords each of them held were light, but their strength and control ensured there would be every bit as much force behind a successful strike as with a heavier weapon.

 

Almok caught and tossed aside one of Taelth’s thrusts with his own sword, reversed his stance, and worked his parrying blade so quickly with his off hand that it kept both of Taelth’s blades away. “Am I going to have to start tying one arm behind my back?” he asked.

 

Taelth kicked him in the knee just as he finished asking then swung of his sword into Almok’s side as he stumbled. The sword wasn’t actually sharp enough to really cut into flesh, but it was steel, and heavy enough to cause damage that was uncomfortable if not life threatening.

 

“Not if you’re going to keep walking into things like that.”

 

Almok put his sword down, lifted his shirt with his free hand and pointed indignantly at the welt that had already appeared. “Ow!”

 

He picked his sword back up, “But I had to give you something. We’re what, six and two now?”

 

“You could just quit cheating.” Taelth took a step back and readied his weapons.

 

“You mean like not kicking my opponent in knee?”

 

“Well you’ve got to be cheating somehow.” Taelth reasoned, “you couldn’t keep beating me, otherwise.”

 

“Fah! I’m just that good.” Almok attacked again. He was stronger, and it made him faster. Beyond that, though, if there were more than one valid response to a maneuver, it was impossible to judge which Almok would use, and he seemed to think three strokes ahead. After a few minutes Taelth started to slow slightly, and Almok returned the blow to his side.

 

“You’ve got no business being that good though,” Taelth wheezed. Almok had hit him rather hard. “I’m going to figure out how you’re cheating one day. Then I’m going to tell your mom.”

 

Almok laughed at that, “Even if I am cheating, I’m far too clever for you. Figuring me out would be harder than finding her.”

 

Taelth had to admit, Almok probably wasn’t cheating, because that wasn’t true at all. First of all, Almok’s mother had disappeared over a hundred years ago. His father was one of the only elves in the world that could be considered wealthy and powerful, and he hadn’t been able to find her. Second, Almok really wasn’t half so clever as he thought he was.

 

After a few minutes of heavy breathing Almok had nearly recovered from the exertion of their last match and he attacked again. Taelth was one of the few people willing to regularly spar Almok, and so he was used to sudden attacks without warning. He wasn’t caught off guard, but unlike Almok he was becoming exhausted. He fell completely into a defensive pattern, and Almok gladly took on the role of attacker. After two minutes of frantic bladework Almok seemed to forget that his opponent might at some point retaliate, and so he nearly missed it when Taelth did so.

 

He didn’t miss it entirely though. He reacted faster than even an opponent like Taelth had thought he would, twisting out of the knife’s path and thrusting his sword deliberately past Taelth’s head. It was just as good as a hit.

 

“I figured you didn’t need any more bruises today.”

 

“Very considerate of you,” Taelth sighed. Almok really didn’t have any business being this much better than him. It wasn’t that he wouldn’t have expected someone who trained as Almok did to have a fair amount of ability. But Taelth trained harder, was older, and had experienced actual battles. It wasn’t fair, “but I think you’ve beaten my pride enough for today.”

 

Almok snapped his fingers, “I’m probably going to have to just fight a post or something, then. You’re just about the only person who’ll fight me these days.”

 

“I’m terribly brave,” Taelth agreed, “but I’ve got my limits. I’m going to go do something where there’s no danger of embarrassment. I’ve got land to tend.” Taelth returned his practice weapons to their normal resting place along a wall, Almok hesitated a moment and then did the same with his.

 

“Oh, what needs to be done?” Almok inquired.

 

“The grounds I’m tending are producing all kinds of food right now, and I need to get it before the animals do, and on the note of animals, there’s a bear or a boar or something digging around, and I should probably kill it before it causes any real damage.”

 

“Ah, good luck with that then.” Almok answered, his curiosity sated.

 

“You could always offer to help, you know.” Taelth told him as they stepped out into the village.

 

“No, no… I don’t really like manual labor. I’m not cut out for the farmer/gatherer lifestyle. I’m more the sort of person who elevates swordsmanship to an art form.” Almok explained, “I think I’ll just go for a walk or something.”

 

“Well, if we’ve got a bear that needs killing, you could help out by just challenging it to a duel to the death.” Taelth suggested.

 

“You can handle a bear by yourself, Taelth, I’ve got faith in you.”

 

“You’re going to feel terrible when I get mauled to death.”

 

“I’ll mourn you for days” Almok agreed. But that wasn’t enough. Taelth still seemed to think Almok should lend a hand in the day to day duties of living, which was a sound theory, but in practice Almok didn’t really want to.

 

“But you’ll be able to handle it, because you’ve got such great aim.” Almok added. “Sure I’ve got you hopelessly outclassed with a sword, but you’re a really great with a bow… I really need to work on that if I’m going to be better than you at absolutely everything.”

 

Taelth sighed. Despite Almok’s attitude, if he really was going to train to make himself a more effective protector of their people, then he was doing something productive, and Almok doing anything productive at all was enough of an improvement that Taelth felt he had better just settle for it.

 

“Same time tomorrow, then?” Taelth asked, gesturing toward the practice house.

 

“It’s not like there’s anyone else worth fighting.”

Edited August 16, 2006 by Tamaranis

[Tamaranis]

Almok decided he would walk a bit. It wasn’t that he’d lied to Taelth, even Almok had more honor than that, he was still going to loose a few score of arrows this afternoon. The weather was nice and he was going to take the long way, was all.

 

In a human village with a similar population of fifty or so people, Almok had never actually bothered with a headcount, you wouldn’t be able to get much walking in just going from place to place. But elves spread things out. They didn’t actually live in the branches of the trees, as the stories of them reputedly claimed, but they didn’t feel any need to get every little bit they could out of the land they lived on. There weren’t many of them, and they had a lot of land, so they didn’t need to.

 

The whole thing was spread out with homes and places of labor for fifty elves spanning nearly two miles. The buildings themselves were of excellent construction. Having a life that could not be extinguished through age or disease, and often living in the same place for most of their lives, elves naturally tended to invest a lot of effort into the state of their homes.

 

Many of the buildings were wooden, but stone had been imported for many others. Roofs were not thatched, they were shingled. Most of the walls were exceptionally thick, actually consisting two separate walls with a gap between for added insulation. Even glass windows showed up here and there. His own home lacked both stone and glass in its construction, as Almok had thought the effort of acquiring such materials too great. The double wall structure was in place, though.

 

Tall, healthy trees were scattered throughout the settlement, but were spaced thinly enough not to block the sun. Tiny crops of various sorts and gardens were just off the beaten, unpaved path, and stretched out for several miles from the actual dwelling places.

 

Almok only saw two other people on his way, despite the scenic route. An eccentric shepherd who had, in fact, managed to work several living trees into the framework of her home, and a seeg named Raeb. Everyone else was either training at some talent they held to be important or working in the surrounding area.

 

The archery range consisted of a sturdy shack with a few bows and strings inside and a pile of arrows. There were also a couple of sacks of branches and other debris with targets drawn on them at various distances from the shack. Taelth had put those together, probably.

 

“So I hear swordsmanship is the flavor of the decade,” said a mocking voice.

 

Almok started, and noticed that a deceptively small looking woman was already on the range. “Meeri, I didn’t see you there.”

 

Meeri chuckled and let loose an arrow that struck slightly off its mark. “And to think, people are thinking you’ll become a defender, now.”

 

Almok looked for a bow with a high draw weight, and realized Meeri was using the heaviest one already. Settling for the runner up, he set about stringing it. “I don’t see why they shouldn’t think that. Just eight years and I’m better than Taelth already.”

 

Meeri shook her head, “Unless someone like Taelth just walked up behind you and stabbed you in the back.”

 

“Well,” Almok considered this as he selected a handful of arrows that were straight and still had fletching, “I move pretty quick. I think if Taelth wanted to kill me I’d come out of it on top as long as I spotted him before I was actually dead.”

 

“You wouldn’t”

 

Almok walked up beside her and knocked an arrow, “Doesn’t matter, Taelth’s a nice guy. He wouldn’t kill me.”

 

Meeri loosed another arrow, and it struck a little farther off the mark than the last one had. Almok loosed an arrow at the same target and hit dead centre. “Hmm. I’ve got so much natural talent for this I got better at it by practicing swordwork.”

 

“Taelth might just kill you. Eeph knows I would if I was training with you every day.” Meeri’s next arrow was actually touching Almok’s when it struck, but it wasn’t quite centre.

 

“Since when are you an expert on our training, anyway?” Almok asked.

 

“Word gets around.” Meeri loosed another arrow, “Taelth has impressed a lot of people over the years. And then you end up better than him in under a decade.” She laughed suddenly, “You know, the farther I was from here the better I heard you were. In Capital they’re comparing you to some of the legends.”

 

“And rightly so,” Almok loosed. The arrow struck the outer edge of the target, but it didn’t seem to faze him. “Which legends?”

 

“Omuron, Ighgresk, Nedala,” Meeri’s arrow landed as close to center as the last one had, “The swordmasters, basically. Nedala doesn’t particularly appreciate the comparison.”

 

Almok completely missed his target, “Omuron?” he asked indignantly.

 

“I’m sure if Omuron were still around he’d be just as upset about it as you,” Meeri’s arrow landed midway between the centre of the target and the outer ring, “But you can’t blame these people, they’ve never met you.”

 

They each loosed a few more arrows in silence. Almok didn’t suffer any more complete misses but Meeri was definitely better with a bow. He was forced to admit to himself that that first one must have just been lucky.

 

Almok chuckled suddenly, “Ighgresk, I like that.”

 

“Of course you do.”

 

There was another pause of a few minutes before Almok asked, “So why are you bothering with a bow at all? I thought you mastered some spell that would turn a man’s heat to a weak jelly, so that the force of the next beat would tear it apart.”

 

“Something like that,” Meeri replied, “But being a seeg means being ready to overcome anything, in any situation.”

 

“I think,” Almok ventured, “That if you tear an opponent’s heart to shreds, well, that’ll pretty much overcome any opponent.”

 

“But if he’s got spelled armor, or there’s a magic damper, or if he’s a void mage, or any number of things, putting an arrow through his heart will work just as well, and won’t be nearly as hard.”

 

“That’s what Taelth and I are for,” Almok said dismissively.

 

“Well, if you’re not there, or you two are already dead, I’ll have to do it myself. So I’d better be able to use a bow if the time ever comes.” Meeri stately flatly.

 

This time it was Almok’s turn to shake his head, “…always thinking about killing people.”

 

“It’s my job.”

 

The loosed a few more arrows each before Almok started up the conversation again, “What brings you back here, anyway?”

 

“What if something happened around here? Do you know what Feltha’s defence force would consist of if it were attacked?” Meeri returned.

 

“Not really.” Almok landed an arrow almost right on top of his first. “Hah!”

 

“You, Taelth, and Raeb.” Meeri told him.

 

“You’re forgetting Reblin. And the guy with the stick.” Almok corrected.

 

“The guy with the stick?” Meeri asked skeptically.

 

“Yeah, I forget his name, actually.” Almok elaborated, “Weird guy, he carriers a stick around all the time. He fought off a couple of dwarves with it once.”

 

“And Reblin?”

 

“Hey, Reblin’s almost as good a mage as I am a swordsman.” Almok’s voice took on a bit of a defensive tone. “And who’s going to attack us anyway? Dwarves? there are about twelve of them within ten miles of us. Humans? Reblin, Taelth, and I could stop an army of them.”

 

“Was that injured pride just now?” Meeri asked, genuinely curious.

 

Almok considered this. “No, I think I’m just insulted that you don’t think any group of people that has me in it will automatically succeed.”

 

“I think you were defending the honor of the warriors of Feltha.” Meeri disagreed. “Anyway, there’s a real shortage of capable people around here to stand up and fight in the event of a conflict. Feltha was the best place for me to be.”

 

After several moment of intense thought, Almok responded, “Oh it is, is it?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“You always come back,” he said slyly.

 

Their archery had come to an end a few minutes ago. “Almok. I know this is hard for you to understand,” Meeri spoke slowly, as if to a particularly slow child, “but everything the rest of the world does isn’t centered on you.”

 

“Oh Meeri, you’re such naïve, perfect little killer, that’s what I love about you.”

 

“I am a perfect killer.” Meeri loosed an arrow again to accent her point, “or at least I strive to be. No matter how good you become with a sword, or a bow, or whatever other weapons you decide to master, you never will be.”

 

“Yeah, I’m more an artist, really.” Almok either missed or ignored her tone, “I’ve got this perfect, intuitive, beautiful control over swords. It’s not really for defending or killing, it’s for its own intrinsic perfection.” He resumed his archery as well, and loosed another arrow. “Not so much with bows, though.”

 

Meeri laughed again. Almok was confusing and frustrating, and his total lack of regard for everything that wasn’t him made him unpopular sometimes, but it always made her laugh when he took himself seriously. “You’ll give it up in another two or three years, at the outside.” She grinned.

 

“No…” Almok almost sounded as if he really didn’t know what she was talking about, “It’s my calling.”

 

“Just like painting, dancing, sculpting, smithing, and human languages?” she asked.

 

“I never once claimed smithing was my calling,” Almok replied, “Just that I had a gift for it.”

 

“The world isn’t here for your personal amusement.”

 

“I’m just exotic, is all. That’s what you love about me. I’m also very attractive”

 

“How many women have you been with in the last eleven years, Almok?” Meeri asked.

 

“Four.” Almok responded immediately. “No… five. Six if you count that human girl.”

 

“A human?” Meeri was incredulous

 

“Well, it was just a couple of nights, really. There wasn’t much to it besides mutual fascination.” Almok caught a disgusted look. “You see, she came here to study our ancient wisdom or something, I’m not really sure. And I was still into human languages at the time so it was a chance to put it to practice, plus I was the only person who could actually speak with her. Anyway, she was really fascinated by elves on the whole, and she was pretty attractive for a human, almost looked like an elf. I figured that I might as well go for it, since they die so fast. And even before that they get all feeble and-“

 

“My point is that you’re too fickle to hold the interest of any reasonable person, no matter how exotic you are. There’s no point in getting involved with you again, you’ll get bored of it in a couple years.”

 

“Oh…you always come back.” There wasn’t a hint of doubt in Almok’s voice.

Edited January 15, 2006 by Tamaranis

[Tamaranis]

“Hey, Reblin,” Almok said casually, “I’m going to need something spell-polished. And thick.” There was a pause, “and fire proof.”

 

Reblin was torn between twin desires. On one hand, there was a strong reflexive desire to make himself aware of whatever impending disaster Almok had just created so that he could either prevent it, take cover, or flee as was appropriate. Measured against this was a desire not to face the terror that certainly lurked behind his back, it was akin to being reluctant to look at what one knew already from pain to be a grievous wound.

 

He settled for something of a compromise. He didn’t turn around a look at what it was, but he did start searching for an object that would meet the description that Almok had just given him.

 

Almok meanwhile, was still connected to the tiny mote of flame he’d just created at eye level three feet away, and was busy manipulating it, through force of will, to stay where it was and not explode or set the building on fire

 

Maybe he shouldn’t have given up the sword. He had a certain affinity for magic, for channeling energies, but he couldn’t control it quite like he could a sword.

 

But there was so much more potential in magic, and he hadn’t had much of a choice. Taelth had begun approaching the limits of his ability long ago, he’d marginally improved, but he hadn’t been able to keep up with Almok. That had left no one behind who could actually challenge him. Without a proper opponent he couldn’t continue to improve upon his abilities. It was still good practice for Taelth, but he was a defender now and spent most of his time who knows where, where Almok couldn’t engage him in a duel.

 

Meeri had told Almok that he could become a defender. There he’d be able to travel the forests and find strange new ways to kill strange new creatures. She also said that he could travel to Capital, and petition to train with the masters there, or even Nedala. People did that, she told him, traveled in pursuit of their goals.

 

But what did Meeri know? To think she’d actually claimed to be repulsed by him. He knew that for a lie the very moment she’d said it. She might have believed it herself, but it was still a lie. Of course she couldn’t resist him, he was her perfect foil. She was devoted, dedicated, focused, couldn’t ever be deterred from any goal. Almok was random, unfocused, self serving, and…

 

…and he should have been paying more attention to that purified fire. It had started slowly descending, leaving what looked like nothing so much as a burning rip in the air behind it.

 

“Reblin? You find anything?”

[Tamaranis]

Reblin stood on a chair, reached on top of a set of shelves, and found a disc of heavy metal with a slightly concave shape, about a foot across and polished to a perfect mirror finish. “Here, I don’t really want to know what you’re… No. This can’t work.” Almok was now staring a tiny but very bright point of light that was jetting flames three feet upward.

 

“No, no, I’ve got it. Just give me that disc, that’s perfect.” Despite his doubts, Reblin tossed the disc to Almok, who caught it without taking his eyes off the fire mote, which had nearly descended into a wooden desk with parchment scattered across it.

 

Almok held the disc in both hands and slowly, carefully brought it up under the fire mote. “If I can shield it on one side I should be able to contain it again…”

 

Reblin had no faith in that plan and immediately began chanting the words of a spell of his own to safely dispose of the energies Almok had summoned up, apparently by accident.

 

Tendrils of icy unmagic extended from Reblin’s hands and wrapped around the jetting flames, trying to climb down through them into their source. Almok, meanwhile, had resorted to actually holding the fire mote up with Reblin’s disc, the edges of which were becoming uncomfortably warm.

 

“I thought this stuff wasn’t supposed to heat up,” he grimaced. Reblin didn’t respond.

 

Gradually the flames started to descend. With Reblin helping to pull energy out of the fire mote Almok managed to condense it into a single point that didn’t jet alarming columns of fir into the air.

 

Then the mote started getting brighter.

 

“Cut the link and open a sixth gate half-channel, then just hold onto it, I’m going to take it apart!” Reblin commanded. But something told Almok that wouldn’t work. And that in fact, even bothering to attempt it would be a foolish plan. Instead he threw the disc and the mote that had somehow become firmly attached to it out the window.

 

There was a roar and their view of the softly falling snow through that window was briefly blocked by a wall of flames, which quickly receded. Almok and Reblin immediately rushed outside to survey the damage they had caused.

 

It wasn’t too bad. The corner of Reblin’s workshop that had been closest to the explosion was on fire, but Reblin put that out without any real difficulty. Almok was also estimated about two and a half trees were missing. He managed to keep the fire from growing out of control by making it doubt wood was flammable until Reblin pulled enough heat out of it to kill the flames.

 

The spell-polished disc, which was supposed to be highly resistant to all forms of magic, as well as a great deal of heat, was a metallic stain blasted into a totally dry and bare patch of smoldering dirt.

 

“Why did you cast that?” Reblin asked, “And why did you do it inside”

 

“I wanted to see if I could,” now that the excitement was over, Almok noticed that his fingers were badly burnt, and it was becoming rather painful.

 

“And it never occurred to you that you might not be able to maintain control of that much energy once you’d conjured it, right?” Reblin guessed.

 

Almok removed his left thumb, which was burnt by far worse than any other fingers, from his mouth and blew gingerly on it. “I barely lost control of it, it was fluke.”

 

Reblin gestured at their scorched surroundings, “Barely?”

 

Almok was begging to lament he hadn’t ever bothered learning any spells that could conjure ice, or even cool water, having reasoned if he ever needed one he’d just figure it out then. He’d have to settle for snow. His fingers were definitely going to blister. “Hey, now this is only the third time something like this has happened in four years,” Almok delivered the information as if it were an impressive record, “normally I’d be able to keep a grip on something like that.”

 

“I think...” Reblin said, regaining what calm he had lost, “that perhaps it would be best for everyone if you returned to studying the sword. You had much better control over that.”

 

“Wait, you can’t just refuse to help me learn, I’ve got a gift that I can’t let go to waste.”

 

“You know,” Reblin started again, ignoring the question, “Meeri might make a better instructor in this sort of thing than I would. She seems to like you, and she’s a seeg.”

 

“What does being a seeg have to do with it? You’re at least as good a mage.” Almok asked.

 

“Seegs don’t fear death as much as the rest of us.” Reblin explained.

 

“Oh, yeah,” Almok puffed air over his fingers again, “she’s not afraid of much, but she won’t teach me anyway. She doesn’t think I’ll follow through with this. She says it would be a waste of her time.”

 

“Raeb, then.” Reblin suggested, “He’d appreciate the sense of danger that comes from studying with you more than I do.”

 

“But Raeb spends three quarters of his time on long patrols,” Almok countered, “I’d have to officially become his apprentice and follow him around all the time out there, and I’d end up spending more time wandering through the woods than actually learning anything, and he’d probably rather have me lend my sword than my spells anyway. Teaching me is up to you.”

 

When Reblin didn’t immediately respond, Almok followed up with, “How many people can access elemental creation to make something like that after only four years study?”

 

“Only a few,” Reblin acknowledged, “but you’re the only person who would, after only four years of study.”

 

“Well you know what they say, ‘nothing risked, nothing gained.’ I think my willingness to attempt a spell like that just proves-“

 

“Who says that?” Reblin interrupted.

 

“Oh... humans.” Almok answered, “but when you consider their lifespan, and the fact that they even have a society at all, they’re tendency to take risks pays off for them,” he quickly added.

 

“Humans can risk their lives because even if they end up dying, it hardly makes a difference for them anyway. We’ve got something to lose.” Reblin said, “You’ve got forever to learn proper control of magical energies, you don’t need to push yourself and take risks with my life.”

 

Almok’s left hand suddenly throbbed more painfully. He held it against the snow for a moment, then shook it against the air, trying to cool it a little, “But everyone else has forever, too. I’m going to need an edge if I’m going to be better.”

 

“It’s bad enough that you’ll risk your own life, I can almost see some honor in that, but you conjured up your own little inferno, and when you discovered you couldn’t control it, you just tossed it out the window.” Reblin sighed, “What am I supposed to do? The dishonor’s on my head if you cast something wrong and kill someone while you’re under my tutelage. But If I refuse to help you, you’ll just go right on studying on your own, and all by yourself you’ll definitely wind up dead, and then dishonor is upon me for abandoning you while you had powers you couldn’t control!”

 

Almok was a little taken aback by this. He caused people distress all the time, but never because they were concerned about his ability in something. Of course, Reblin’s fears were unfounded. “Look at it this way,” Almok offered encouragingly, “when I’ve become a legendary mage, and I call upon my magic to strike down some terrible warlord, or halt a plague, or end a drought, or all of those things, you will be the man who taught me everything I know, you’ll be a legend too.” He cursed softly and was forced to suck on his thumb again, it really was quite the burn, “By extension.”

 

Reblin had to admit that the odds of Almok developing legendary magical prowess were fair if he didn’t loose interest and invest his efforts in something else or incinerate himself. “That’s not how it works. I don’t give you control of deadly new powers to bring glory to myself, especially not if it means putting the rest of Feltha in danger.”

 

“Okay, let’s look at it this way,” Almok said, “like you said, I’ve come far enough to start figuring these things out on my own, I’ll become a master mage with or without your help,” That wasn’t what Reblin had said at all, but he knew Almok well enough to know it wasn’t worth it to correct him on that point.

 

“But there’s still a lot I could learn from you, and I’ll get there a lot faster if with your help,” Almok continued, “So the question is, should our people have another powerful mage at their disposal sooner or later?”

 

Almok’s natural ability at a variety of things had made him something of a local legend and over the past few years Reblin had come to recognize him as being extremely dangerous. But he just couldn’t take anyone seriously when they were occupied with sucking on the fingers they burnt because they were misbehaving. “You’re as good an excuse to practice my spell breaking as any,” he said in agreement or defeat, “Next time you conjure something like that up, I’d better be around to help uncast it.”

[Tamaranis]

Shadows crawled over snow with increasing speed. As the darkness spread the underlying nature of the forest changed. The magical fabric that made up reality as much as the snow and the bare trees did was rapidly changing, altered by the shadows or making them appear.

 

A soft chanting increased in tempo as the sun sank further beneath the horizon and the darkness deepened. It was early, yet, but darkness reigned. No ray of light directly struck the earth or the skeletal trees, and clouds obscured the stars.

 

The chants turned to defiant cries in no language. The reign of darkness shattered in an instant. Hundreds of bright, hot white flames bloomed in the darkness, illuminating Feltha as bright as noon. Brighter. The effect spread out for miles or tens of miles. Only by looking at the sky would one have been able to tell it was night at all.

 

A few score voices cried out as defiantly as the chanters had, but they used ordinary words to praise light and mock darkness. Even at the peak of its power, elves would not bow to the night. They would celebrate the longest night of the year by mocking it, not allowing it to take place at all.

 

The spell itself had been woven by Reblin, with the help of Meeri and Raeb. Halmu had channeled elemental creation to pour raw power into it, as he normally did. But Almok had done the same thing this year, and he was certain the effect was brighter and farther reaching for his efforts.

 

Barefoot and dressed in brightly colored summer clothing, elves immediately began dancing through the snow. It should have been a bitterly cold night, but the heat from the magical fire was already changing that. They wouldn’t freeze, and numb feet weren’t bothered by the snow.

 

“Reblin, Raeb, Halmu. Meeri… nicely cast.” Almok grinned, “Now if you have no further need of my services, I’ve got revelry to engage in.”

 

“’course you do, new guy.” Raeb grinned back, “soon as you’re done with the first watch.”

 

“Hey, I thought we agreed Reblin would take the first watch because no one likes him.” Almok protested.

 

“You did…” Reblin confirmed, “but I decided that since the universe basically does whatever I tell it to I don’t have to listen to you lot.”

 

“I’m the greatest swordsman in the world! For about two hours!” Taelth had invented some sort of sword-dance. He also might have started drinking before sundown. The forms he was moving through would have been utterly useless in a fight, but they looked incredible, and even Almok had to admit that it was pretty to look at.

 

“This was a conspiracy, then?” Almok asked.

“A conspiracy of love.” Meeri gave him a pat on the cheek, “now make sure the village doesn’t burn down.”

 

“You sad, jealous, pathetic… jealous… If you try this again next year we’ll duel for first watch, Reblin! To the death!”

 

“Yes, and the earth itself will tremble to see such powers collide, I’m sure. Just watch out for dwarves.” Reblin warned.

 

“And us.” Raeb added, “we might decide to mess with the spell and show you up.”

 

Almok grumbled and took control of the spell. Ensuring the proper function of the spell took too much concentration to participate in anything else while doing it. It wasn’t complicated, all he had to do was make sure the flames didn’t wander into any buildings or trees, and stay on alert for anyone who accidentally danced into one of them. And despite Raeb’s threats, no one would dare interfere with it. But the sheer area covered by the spell, the number of flames involved, made it a demanding task.

 

It wasn’t so horrible, though. Whoever was responsible for the spell stayed at the centre of its effect, which was the centre of Feltha, so he wasn’t isolated from the celebration, and he had occasional stunted conversations, limited by his attention to the spell. Eventually Halmu took over, and Almok set out to dethrone Taelth.

 

Dethroning Taelth turned out to be harder then originally anticipated. Almok was both a better dancer and a better swordsman, but it was competitive sword-dancing, not a fight. Taelth had apparently been practicing for this, and Almok had to make it up as he went along. There was also no way to objectively win a contest of who was a better dancer, and Almok found himself strangely dizzy. So after almost an hour he was forced to offer a truce.

 

Raeb briefly related several legendary battles to whoever was interested, creating vague, shadowy illusions to represent monsters and demons, and casting himself as the hero who defeated them. This continued until Meeri and Halmu conspired to have one of Raeb’s illusions defeat him.

 

There were a few tense moments when a dwarf showed up and howled at one of their flames, then rushed to the attack. But after he dived through it and discovered there really was no way he could fight it, he decided to just emulate the elves and dance with it. Totally bald, naked from having just been set on fire, around half the height of an elf, and nearly as wide as he was tall, the dwarf’s clumsy stumbling made the unerring grace of elves suddenly seem as if it had been boring and monotonous before now.

 

It took Reblin several minutes to figure out how the dwarf had managed to convince spell fire to dance with him. When he finally did come up with an answer he muttered hatred of dwarves and avoided further discussion of the matter.

 

After that he joined Nerine and illustrated for the youngest members of the village the legend of when Omuron banished war from the forest. Reblin’s illusions were harder and more real, and Nerine’s oration was just as enthralling but more historically accurate and lacked self-insertion.

 

Fire and a hundred feet gradually turned snow to slush and icy mud. The revelers, particularly the dwarf, quickly became filthy, but that was a detail traditionally ignored. Several foot races through the mud and slush were organized, but disagreements as to the number of laps completed and the exact route prevented any winners from being named.

 

Possibly having been inspired by the dwarf, Meeri cast something that surrounded her in swirling motes and jets of flame. She personally cast off enough light that she became as hard to look at as any of the other flames present, but she drew attention anyway.

 

Almok spent an unpleasant moment debating what she might have originally intended that spell for before deciding that it was only right he dance with her. But he wouldn’t be outdone, and their dance quickly transformed into an open “dance while you’re on fire” contest that ended after a collection of minor burns were acquired by everyone involved.

 

Towards the end of the celebration a brief argument erupted over whose watch it was. It ended in Reblin doing and admirable job of singing the entire ballad Ighgresk before nobly taking up the undesirable “final watch” a few minutes late.

 

When the sun finally came up its rays destroyed the spell, turning the artificial day into a natural one. Active celebration halted within a few minutes. Light and joy had beaten darkness.