Anthology - The Magic of Krynn

B'rak breathed into his face. "Seek out the trackers and have them report to me. Now!"

The soldier scurried away. B'rak switched to the remaining guard, who now stood poised and ready for battle. The draconian commander moved so that he stood eye-to-eye with the other.

"Where is the Black Robe? Have you seen him or were you asleep all night?"

"He is with the stricken one, captain-S'sira."

"Where would that be?"

The voice floated through the waning night. "There is no need to look for me, captain. I am here."

B'rak whirled. Even in the darkness, he could make out the burning eyes of Vergrim. The magic-user was buried deep within the black cloak which seemed almost an extension of his own form. The mage looked grim.

"It is odd that you should come seeking me, captain. I was just on my way to speak with you. Interesting, don't you think? Tell me, is your headache better?"

"Why do you ask?"

"I shall tell you when you have answered my question. Is your headache better?"

"Yes. It only buzzes slightly now. I found it difficult to sleep."

The hood bobbed up and down as Vergrim nodded. "I suspected as much. You might be interested to know that a number of the men have also complained of headaches and buzzing. S'sira is apparently the only one to have been stricken badly. He babbles like a madman and his form is contorted from pain."

The first rays of light broke through the darkness. B'rak bared his teeth. "He wasn't that sick before. When did this start?"

"Soon after the patrol settled down. Most of those touched were asleep. Shortly after waking, they grew better."

At that moment, the other guard returned with the trackers. They saluted. B'rak ignored them at first, his thoughts on a hundred possibilities. At last, he came to a decision. He turned to the newcomers.

"Did you survey the surrounding forest?"

The two trackers looked at one another. B'rak's eyes narrowed. "That is standard procedure, is it not?"

The senior of the two spoke. "Captain, we did survey the forest. It is just that we found nothing to report. You saw the map. Nothing but trees and grass for miles."

The patrol leader nodded. "I see. Very well, you are dismissed."

The trackers departed with great haste. B'rak looked at the Black Robe. "You detect nothing from these elves?"

"Only the same as before-the desire to help and care for us. I have not really paid much more attention to them. They are worth less than gully dwarves. At least those creatures know no better. These elves are purely pathetic."

"Then, what do you believe the cause of this-this illness to be?"

"I know not. I felt it necessary to report my feelings and possibly warn you."

B'rak grunted. "Consider me warned."

Vergrim hissed. "I shall see what else I can do for your man. I fear it will not be enough, though."

"May we be of service?"

The elven Speaker and his mate stood behind them. The captain had no idea how long they had been there, but he was pleased to see that the Black Robe was just as startled. He looked from one elf to the other. "How can you help?"

"Our knowledge covers a span of countless generations. It may be that there is something in it that relates to your ill warrior. We only wish to help."

B'rak eyed them skeptically. "Vergrim?"

The mage's voice was barely audible. "I still sense nothing but worry and care for us. I do not understand it, but it is there. They may be of some use. I shall, however, trust them only so far."

"Shall I dispatch a guard to assist you?"

Vergrim scoffed. "I think I can safely handle two aged elves."

The draconian commander nodded. To the elves he replied, "Very well. Go with the magic-user. Be warned-he shall watch your every move! If my warrior dies, you two will follow immediately."

"We understand, captain. We will do what we can."

Vergrim hissed and motioned them to follow him. They did so, maintaining a respectable distance from the magic-user. B'rak watched them depart and rubbed a leathery hand across his chin.

"Sith!"

His second, looking half-dead, stumbled out of the Speaker's dwelling. The captain allowed him a moment to organize himself.

"Captain?"

"You are in charge for now. Organize the patrol for action. I shall return shortly."

"Yes, captain."

B'rak adjusted his sword belt and set out toward the forest himself. Now and then, he would pass one of the elves. All refused to meet his gaze. He hissed softly; there was a difference in their attitude. What it was he could not place. He only knew there was a difference. The sadness was there, but something had changed.

He walked for some time. The woods replaced the village. Eventually he paused at what he estimated to be a fair distance from the community. The land was hilly; another two hours would bring him to one of the lesser mountain ranges in this region. The hills, though, would serve his purpose.

He chose the tallest, most jagged of the hills. One side ended in a sheer cliff. The slight breeze tempted him. Though his wings were of little use for actual flight, he could easily glide some distance. That, however, was not his purpose for being here.

As he had surmised, the hill gave him an excellent view of the surrounding landscape, including the village. Far to the southwest lay what looked like the edge of the New Sea. On either side, vast mountains thrust up from the earth, like great walls protecting the region. The flatter lands consisted only of forest. Virgin forest. Massive trees and lush fields.

His suspicions confirmed, B'rak made his way swiftly down the hill. He prayed Sith had obeyed his instructions and mobilized the patrol. There was still a chance for victory if he had done so. At the very least, the draconians would not be unprepared when the elves made their move.

A trap. Even elves left signs of their existence other than a single, tiny village. B'rak knew of the elaborate dwellings formed from nature, knew of the cities created by the artistic race. A population, though, must eat, and B'rak, a veteran of many battles, knew that even the elves cultivated food and traded with their own kind. Eliyah and his people, though, had no fields, no groves of fruit-bearing trees, no cities coexisting with nature.

In short, the village existed only for the patrol's benefit. A lure. Somehow, they had known his patrol would be coming. After that, it was a matter of waiting.

The draconian cursed his blindness. Sorcery had to be involved. Such colossal errors in judgment were not possible, at least not by a veteran such as himself. Even Vergrim had fallen prey to it. Vergrim with his power, his spells, his ability to read what others felt. All the Black Robe had found was the desire to help.

That was the piece of the puzzle still hidden. They could have killed him, several times over. He had certainly been careless enough, pretending to be the mighty conqueror of a handful of peaceful elves. They could have killed him in his sleep.

They had done nothing.

He reached the outskirts of the village, half-expecting battle. The elves were nowhere to be seen. Neither was Vergrim. But Sith and the patrol were awaiting him. His second-in-command jumped to attention.

"Your orders, captain?"

B'rak surveyed the village, the trap, and hissed, "I want this village burned to the ground! I want the elves slaughtered, their bodies burned! Start with the hostages! The responsibility is yours. Be prepared for battle! This is a trap! I must seek the Black Robe out before it is too late!"

Sith grinned as the captain hurried by. His teeth glittered in the sun as he barked out orders. Here, at last, was what he had been waiting for. Here was action. He pulled a burning stick out of a fire some of the warriors had built earlier. Others followed his example.