The Revenge of the Elves Read online

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Chapter Twenty-two

  Chapter Twenty-three

  Chapter Twenty-four

  Chapter Twenty-five

  Chapter Twenty-six

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  Twenty-eight

  Chapter Twenty-nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-one

  Chapter Thirty-two

  Chapter Thirty-three

  Chapter Thirty-four

  Chapter Thirty-five

  Chapter Thirty-six

  Chapter Thirty-seven

  Chapter Thirty-eight

  Chapter Thirty-nine

  Chapter Forty

  Chapter Forty-one

  Chapter Forty-two

  Chapter Forty-three

  Chapter Forty-four

  Chapter Forty-five

  Chapter Forty-six

  Chapter Forty-seven

  Chapter Forty-eight

  Chapter Forty-nine

  Chapter Fifty

  Chapter Fifty-one

  Chapter Fifty-two

  Chapter Fifty-three

  Chapter Fifty-four

  Chapter Fifty-five

  Chapter Fifty-six

  Chapter Fifty-seven

  Chapter Fifty-eight

  Chapter Fifty-nine

  Chapter Sixty

  Chapter Sixty-one

  Glossary

  The Revenge of the Elves:

  GemQuest Book Four

  Gary Alan Wassner

  Although Colton and his forces have been winning battles, scattered forces still resist. Only now is the most powerful threat emerging—the Darkening, a physical emptiness, a void, which encroaches upon the very heart of the land, jeopardizing life itself, chilling souls to the bone, bringing death and annihilation, stealing memories and thoughts.

  As the Twins prepare for their quest, desperate stratagems are undertaken and magical talismans change hands but the foundation of faith and society is threatened as some Lalas trees have died and the sacred bond between the surviving trees and the Chosen companions comes into question. Colton sends three abominations to the three Elfin kingdoms, exact replicas of the Elfin sons of the royal families, the children that they love and yearn for. Catastrophe and murder ensue and the stability of the world is further undermined.

  Doubts continue to arise and faith is in jeopardy. The Darkening becomes frightfully powerful and none yet understand it. But, another new tree is born in Parth and Davmiran receives the 11th shard and it bursts with a powerful light that illuminates the skies once again, offering a spark of hope to all the suffering souls.

  "Gary Wassner's GemQuest series is one of the great, hidden jewels of contemporary fantasy... His books have an intelligence and thoughtfulness many readers have long since accepted as a missing element... As the story progresses, the layers...are pulled back to reveal something more thought-provoking and philosophical in nature than one might expect from the typical Epic Fantasy... It is always nice to see an accomplished storyteller grow in skill as their catalogue grows. With THE REVENGE OF THE ELVES, Gary has taken his writing to the next level."

  --Robert H. Bedford, Reviewer SFFWorld.com

  This is a work of fiction. All the characters and events portrayed in this book are fictional, and any resemblance to real people or incidents is purely coincidental.

  eISBN: 978-1-61756-871-8

  Copyright © 2007 by Gary Wassner

  Published by E-Reads. All rights reserved.

  www.ereads.com

  Acknowledgments

  The more books I write, the more people I’m grateful to.

  My wife Cathy, my three sons, my daughters in law and my three grandchildren, of course have to be listed first. Without them, none of this would have any meaning.

  R. Scott Bakker, a friend and colleague, who inspired me with his brilliance, and made me see that the product is as important as the process.

  Lisa Rector who helped me make the product something I’m proud of.

  Judy Kronish, whose constant assistance and unwavering support has been invaluable.

  Justin T, Kathy S, Robb B, Dag R, J. R. M, Brian M, and all the other people at SFF World, as well as a very special shout out to my friend, Chris Billett..

  The list goes on and on.

  Dedication

  For Irwin

  Chapter One

  Caught between the thoughts that give

  and those that take away…

  A longing to go forward,

  the reasons yet to stay.

  Perched upon the steepest edge,

  with choices still to make,

  A step onto the fragile ledge…

  All others to forsake.

  A move that takes you to a place

  from which you can’t go back.

  Is it need that drives you forward so,

  Or is need exactly what you lack?

  What motive lures your spirit on,

  Who beckons you to dance?

  Is it fortune that brings you to this choice,

  Or is it merely chance?

  Is it destiny,

  Is it pride,

  Or is it simply fear,

  Is it virtue,

  Is it envy,

  Or is it fate that brings you here?

  Does a pure heart know the difference

  Between the image and the dust?

  Is the light so bright you cannot tell

  what can be from what must?

  To go, to stay…

  Will you find your way

  ‘Tween credence and mistrust?

  ‘Tween a love that’s true and lust?

  ‘Tween the righteous and unjust?

  Do you see the contrast yet

  between what you give and what you get?

  A bleeding heart is all that’s left

  when reason turns to rage.

  Within the mists can you discern

  the path of peace for which you yearn,

  a language they have yet to learn,

  The devil from the sage?

  The paper from the page?

  The actor from the mage?

  The payment from the wage?

  The prison from the cage?

  The moment from the age?

  What is weak and what is strong?

  Are you right or are you wrong?

  Could you be the Dark One’s pawn,

  Content to merely go along,

  And trudge on blindly with the throng,

  Do anything to just belong,

  and pray this darkness yields to dawn,

  Before the founts of strength are gone?

  Or will you race against the storm,

  Struggle for the yet unborn,

  Heal the wound, extract the thorn,

  Subdue your fear of evil’s scorn,

  Look with hope upon the morn,

  Boldly blow trust’s fearless horn,

  Fulfill the noble pledge you’ve sworn,

  Be all you can; be bold, be strong,

  Be the herald of tomorrow’s song?


  “Move your skinny asses!” the man yelled at the disheveled trio of captives trudging along the dry roadbed. He cracked his whip on the back of the closest one. “These sluggards are gonna drive me crazy, strolling along like it’s a fucking holiday,” he said to the man walking next to him. “What are you laughing about? You got nuthin’ at stake. I’m the one who found ‘em. They’re my responsibility now. My problem.” He glanced back over his shoulder down the path. Something caught his eye. A branch moved.

  “It took some great skill on your part to locate ‘em, you mean?” the short, dark-haired man laughed again. “That’s a joke! So you found ‘em! Luck. That’s what it was. Luck and nuthin’ else.”

  “Ain’t nuthin’ wrong with a little luck sometimes.” He turned back toward his friend. The wind must have rustled the tree before, no one else would be foolish enough to wander in these hills. His skin prickled nonetheless. “But if I don’t get ‘em all to Peltaran before two days are up, I won’t get paid and this whole damn thing won’t be worth shit.”

  “If I was you, I’d be more concerned about what’s gonna happen to me if they should get away than I would be about the money. If you lose ‘em after all this…”

  “She don’t scare me none,” the big man lied, kicking at the dirt. The thick, gray fabric of his pants was worn and fraying at the hem and it flapped around the ankle of his boot. Catching these prisoners was the best thing that could have happened to him. Or so he hoped. “Hmpff,” he grunted. “She’s lucky it was me who found ‘em. It could have been someone from Tallon. They were damn close to that town when I spotted ‘em, and you can be sure no one there would have helped her get ‘em back to Peltaran.”

  Tallon and Peltaran were as different as two towns could be. One was a refuge from the darkness, the other a sorry adjunct to it.

  “You know who she is, Madar. Don’t fool yourself. She gives orders and people jump. And now that you’ve dragged me into this, I probably got to worry too,” the smaller man said, shaking his head. “How the fuck did I let you do this to me again?”

  “Go then if you want! I didn’t force you to join me and I ain’t forcing you to stay. I can do this alone.”

  Teren was content to scavenge things from the abandoned homes and shops around the countryside. And when Madar wasn’t looking, from the countless corpses they saw everywhere. “Sure you can. Just like you did the last time,” Teren sneered. “Remember the last time?” That adventure almost got them both killed. Madar was too soft. He didn’t have the stomach for the things they needed to do. Teren, selfish to the core and wily as a fox, knew better how to survive in times like these.

  “That wasn’t my fault!” Madar replied red-faced, his hands shoved deep in his pockets like a sullen kid. “You really piss me off, you know that? Why do I ever give you a chance to help me.” He turned away in disgust. Something shiny dropped to the ground as he pulled his hands free of his pants.

  Teren’s eye caught the copper’s glint and he subtly placed his foot over his friend’s coin. “Give me a chance?” he exclaimed. “Fuck me with a spiked club, you shit-faced son of a bitch! You’d be dead by now if not for me.” Madar scoffed and looked into the bushes. Teren would as soon betray his mother if the payoff was big enough. And as the times grew darker, he grew harder. He bent down to scratch his leg and with two fingers, lifted the coin, concealing it in his palm. Before his friend turned back around, Teren slipped the copper into his own pocket.

  As they toyed with each other, one of the three captives eyed them from behind. His blue eyes glistened in the morning sun, watchful and alert, missing nothing, He straightened up and sniffed the dawn’s air.

  Madar dug his boot heel into the ground. A branch caught on his leg and he slapped at it with a meaty hand. His skin went cold. He could swear the bush moved again. He turned his beady eyes back to the path ahead. “These people must be pretty important if she wants ‘em so bad,” he said at last. He tried to look through the dense brush, but couldn’t see anything.

  “You think?” Maybe they were worth more than Teren realized. Who they were had not even occurred to him. “You know my friend, you never told me how much she offered you.” His eyes flashed.

  “No? Well, what’s it matter to you anyways?” he replied, feigning indifference and sighing like he was bored. “You’re leavin’.”

  Teren ignored his friend’s remark and leaned in close to him. “Come on man. How much?”

  Madar cupped his hand over his mouth. “Twenty pieces of Gwendolen gold!” he whispered. His eyes darted left and right.

  Teren’s face lit up.

  “Like I said, they must be pretty damn important for her to offer me King’s gold.”

  “A dead King’s gold,” Teren reminded him. A murdered King’s. “What does she want ‘em for anyhow? They don’t look like much to me.” He leered at the prisoners. “That pale haired bitch wouldn’t fetch more than a few coppers at Caitlin’s place, and look at that other one! Best she keep her head covered lest she scare off the snakes.”

  “It don’t matter none to me who they are. The less we know about ‘em the better.”

  “I wonder if the Mayor of Denton would have any interest in ‘em,” Teren said, raising his hairless brows. King Garold’s gold was cursed, everyone knew that, though plenty of people would kill for that much of it.

  “Oh, no ya don’t!!” Madar jumped on his words. “You wanna go and sell ‘em out from under the witch woman to a higher bidder? Are you fucking crazy? You’re the one who just said…”

  “It was only a thought,” Teren said quietly. Madar couldn’t see an opportunity if it smacked him in the face, simple as he was. Besides, Teren had nothing to lose. The witch woman didn’t even know he was here.

  “It was a bad fucking thought,” Madar bristled. “Twenty pieces of King’s gold ain’t nothing to spit at. It’ll set us up nicely.”

  “Fifty fifty?” Teren asked. He’d let Madar carry the coins. He’d like that, and Teren didn’t want to walk around with them in his own pockets.

  “Sixty forty!” Madar replied, avoiding his partner’s eyes. “I found ‘em.”

  “Fuck you! You got me into this mess and there ain’t no way either of us can walk away now. You’ll screw it up without me anyways.”

  “Fifty fifty then,” Madar scowled. He really didn’t want to do this alone.

  “Partners is partners!” Teren thrust out his grimy hand, pleased.

  “Partners is partners!” Madar replied, offering a gnarly palm in response.

  Neither of them noticed the slender youth chained behind them nodding to the other prisoners. With his sinewy back to his captors, he raised his shackled arm and extended his index finger northward. The air around it crackled and sparked, enveloping his intricately mottled hand in a glove of pulsating blue light.

  Chapter Two

  Emerging from the dark depths, they squinted and rubbed their tired, red eyes. The sun hurt, it was so strong, beating down upon them, scorching and relentless. They traversed the hollows for three full weeks, winding and weaving their way through the maze of empty tunnels and crooked passageways that were all that remained now in the wake of the great Lalas’ death. The amulet of Sidra, their mysterious benefactress, hanging around Dalloway’s neck, provided them with a clear and distinct compass, assisting them most of the way. It paled only moments before they climbed up and out of the ground onto the desolate surface.

  No wind blew here. No rain fell upon the wasteland. The skies were empty of life, and even the clouds didn’t gather overhead. The sun rose and set each day, but it cast no shadows across the abandoned buildings and pierced not the shroud that hung over Odelot. In its naked intensity, it seared the ancient stones that paved the streets and avenues and raised spirals of steam that hung in the stifling air, darkening it even more. In silence, the city disintegrated.

  “I feel nothing,” Caroline whispered when her feet attained a level stance. She looked around, blinking the sand
out of her eyes.

  “And I can see nothing,” Dalloway replied, standing tall and scanning the barren hillside upon which they stood.

  “No, really, Dalloway! You don’t understand. I feel nothing! Nothing.”

  Silhouetted against the thick fog she appeared ethereal and ghostlike.

  “Follow me.” Grabbing her hand, he led her farther up the knoll. “The ground is so dry, if we can climb a ways above this dust we’ll get a better sense of where we are.”

  “There’s no point.” She pulled away from him. “You’re not listening to me. It won’t matter if we stand where we are or a thousand feet above this spot. It will be the same. This land is as dead as the hollows we left behind.” Caroline shuddered.

  “But, this is Odelot! The dead city! What did you expect? Come on, let’s climb. Perhaps we can see the city walls from up there.” The sensations were oppressive and they weighed him down as well. He drew in a deep, painstaking breath. “We can’t stand here. We have to find the well.”

  “I’ve never experienced anything like this before. It’s incredible to feel nothing. Is this what death’s like?” she asked. Her eyes flew to meet his. “Is it like this for you all the time?”

  “It’s how most of us live, Caroline, You’re not used to it, that’s all,” Dalloway replied, wrapping his arm around her shoulders.

  “But the emotions are gone too, Daly. Everything’s gone. I have only my own thoughts,” she said. Her father had not prepared her for this.

  “It should be easier to reason, Caroline, without the distractions.”

  “My father thinks of my gift as something troublesome and dangerous. He’d be relieved to know there’s nothing here to threaten me in that regard. But I don’t feel complete without the sense of life around me. I don’t feel safe.”