When Magic Filled the Air
What is the delay? came a telepathic call, but Cadderly didn't have time for the imp's intrusions. He dropped the amulet to the dirt and placed his foot over it, then took up Dellanil's book and continued his scan, double-checking his translation before uttering the words to Elbereth.
Where are you? came Druzil's call again, but it was distant, and Cadderly easily pushed it far away. Still, the young scholar recognized the desperation in Druzil's thoughts and knew the clever imp would remain active.
"We must hurry," Cadderly implored Elbereth. "Our enemies will soon understand that we have traveled around them."
Elbereth rubbed his hands slowly across the bark of the nearest oak, gathering strength from the wood's solidity. He was the most nervous of the group. If the summons failed, all of them would likely lose their lives, but Elbereth stood to lose even more. The basis of his existence, the magic of Shilmista, hung in the balance. If the trees did not answer his call this time, his father's dismal beliefs that magic no longer filled Shilmista's clear air would be proven true, to the dismay and doom of all of Elbereth's people.
Cadderly held the book open before him. "Are you ready?" the young scholar asked.
"Flames in the east!" came Danica's call from the high boughs of a nearby tree. Her companions on the ground heard the branches rustling as Danica made a swift descent. "A force approaches swiftly."
Cadderly nodded to Elbereth, gaining the elf's attention. "Seide plein una malabreche," the scholar began slowly.
Elbereth held his hands out wide to the wood and walked around the nearest oaks as he echoed the words. "Seide plein una malabreche."
"Come along," Danica whispered to the dwarves and, somewhat hesitantly, to Rufo. "We shall keep the enemy at bay while Cadderly and Elbereth complete the calling."
"Oh," moaned a disappointed Pikel.
"What's an Elbereth?" Ivan asked, but his wry smile quickly diffused Danica's sudden frown. They took up positions along the perimeter of Syldritch Trea, hoping that their friends would finish before the enemy arrived.
None of them had to voice their fears of the consequences should the summons fail.
*****
The great white horse carried Shayleigh effortlessly, springing over patches of brush and gliding between the tightly packed trees. Shayleigh reined in Temmerisa many times, not wanting to outdistance King Galladel and the seven other elven riders. The great horse heeded her commands, though the maiden could sense from the rippling muscles in Temmerisa's shining white neck that the horse wanted to run strong and hard.
A host of orcs trailed the elven troupe, rushing wildly, hungrily, in pursuit, hooting and howling. A hundred strong, they numbered as many as all of the elves remaining in the forest, and their evil kin, many times their number, were all around them. Soon, the orcs believed, this small elven band would be surrounded and the slaughter would begin.
So the orcs believed, and so Galladel and Shayleigh and the other elves wanted the orcs to believe.
Shayleigh led them into a wide expanse of low shrubs and young trees. The elven riders took extra care to avoid the saplings here, practically walking their mounts and taking no heed of the orc force fast closing from behind.
The elves came to the opposite edge of the expanse, where the forest darkened once more under the canopy of older growth, and urged their horses into the shadows. Just a short way in, they reared and turned about.
Oblivious to the danger, the stupid orcs charged through the open area.
Tintagel waited until all the baited monsters had come within the perimeter of his devious trap. Then the wizard stepped from his tree form and uttered a triggering rune. A score and seven other trees reverted to their true elven forms and stepped into the middle of the orcish host. They cut into the unsuspecting orcs from every angle, each elf felling several of the foul beasts before the orcs began to comprehend what had happened.
Shayleigh held Temmerisa back no longer. The mighty steed burst out of the shadows and trampled an orc, and the warrior atop it bent low in her saddle, her golden hair flying wildly behind her and her gleaming sword hacking at any monster that strayed too near.
Galladel and the others charged right behind, circling the perimeter of the open region, killing all those orcs that thought to flee. The wretched creatures dove and rolled and tried to run, but ultimately had nowhere to go.
Elven bows twanged mercilessly; elven swords bit deep into orcish flesh.
It was over in seconds, orc bodies covering the open expanse. None of the elves held any notions of victory, though, and not one of them was smiling. They knew that this battle was just beginning. Cries of another fight sprang up somewhere to the east, and farther north the enemy had started fires. The season had not been dry, and the fires did not rush through the forest, but they were fueled by the prodding of many, many monsters.
Another group of elves, flushed out by the flames, sprinted by the area, with hulking orogs in close pursuit.
"Take to the shadows!" Shayleigh cried, and most of Tintagel's contingent already moved for the trees, knowing that to get caught in the open was to die.
Shayleigh didn't look back to her king for instructions. For the fiery elven maiden, the appropriate course was easy to discern. Amid all the confusion of the expanding battle and swirling smoke, she had clearly seen a new enemy to strike.
"Come, Temmerisa!" she cried, and the spirited horse, apparently in complete agreement with its courageous rider, broke into a wild charge in pursuit of the orogs chasing the elves.
One of the other riders moved to follow Shayleigh, but Galladel held him back.
"We eight shall stay together," the elf king said sternly. "The fight will come in full, and if Elbereth's attempt does not awaken the trees, our course will be whichever way is quickest from Shilmista's bloody boughs."
The other riders could tell by Galladel's grim tone that their king did not hold out much hope for his son's attempt. And at that dark time, with the forest thick with monsters and smoke, cries of battle erupting from every direction, and hundreds, perhaps thousands, of enemy soldiers moving to surround them, not one of Galladel's cavalry companions could muster the courage to dispute the king's fears.
*****
"Teague!" Cadderly cried.
"Teague!" he heard Elbereth repeat.
The young scholar inadvertently glanced over his shoulder, hearing the fighting not too far away. "Concentrate!" he growled, more to himself than to Elbereth, and he forced his gaze down into the book of Dellanil Quil'quien and looked for the next phrase in the woodland summons.
"Teague!" Elbereth echoed several more times, growing nearly as frantic as Cadderly. His people were dying while he danced about an oak grove; he could not ignore that his sword was needed just a few hundred feet away.
Cadderly saw that the elf prince was slipping from the trance. The young scholar dropped the book somehow guessing that he would not need it, that the ancient words had become a part of him, or rather, that their meaning was now so crystalline clear to him that he could follow the path of their cant from his heart alone.
"What're ye doing . . . ?" he heard Ivan stammer. Kierkan Rufo added something Cadderly could not discern, and Pikel piped in with, "Huh?"
Cadderly blocked them all from his mind. He rushed over to Elbereth and grabbed the elf prince's hands, tearing one's stubborn grasp from Elbereth's sword hilt.
"Teague immen syldritch fae," the young scholar said firmly. Whether it was his tone or his grave expression, he could not tell, but he knew then that he had gained Elbereth's full attention, that by his demands, Elbereth had put the closing battle back out of his thoughts. Elbereth took up the chant, and Cadderly continued, keeping a few words ahead of the mesmerized elf.