Pre-dawn grayness lit the sky over Eld’rin. The mists filled it as usual, and frost coated its roots and branches. The city was still, the elves just beginning to wake up.

Outside of Eld’rin, to the north, a great cloud of smoke hung over the forest. The trees here were blackened, the ground scorched and charred. The great inferno which had been here was gone, put out by the Asdelarcen.

And between these two locations – the burned forest and the gates of Eld’rin – was Dilmir, hiding in one of the depressions in the ground used for training magic. He was breathing heavily, having been running most of the night. The Asdelarcen had not made it easy to get this close to Eld’rin, constantly cutting him off and forcing him to backtrack.

He had eventually made it out of the forest, but had still been unable to teleport. It seemed the Asdelarcen had woven enchantments all the way between their camp and Eld’rin. Somehow surviving his flames, the Asdelarcen had caught up with him quickly, their inhuman speed making short work of the distance. They had attacked with swords, forcing Dilmir back into the forest.

Another inferno had followed, this one slightly more successful than the first. At least a few Asdelarcen had gone down in it, but there were still over forty chasing Dilmir. He had circled around, trying to get away from their magic so that he could teleport, but he had never found a gap in their enchantments. They had met several times, Dilmir wounding several of them, and receiving several gashes in return.

The Asdelarcen had stayed in front of Eld’rin, clearly doing their best to keep him from the gate. But slowly, with a combination of fire, roots, and his own sword, Dilmir had gotten closer and closer to Eld’rin, until he had finally been able to make a run for it. He had burst from the trees, spells thudding into the ground at his heels, and had jumped into the first shelter which presented itself: the bowl of earth he was now in. Now he sat, muscles aching, breath coming in gasps, still unable to teleport, gathering his remaining strength for the final sprint.

He knew it was almost dawn. It had taken him all night just to get this far. He still had time though. The undead were still in the forest. He could still reach Eld’rin, find the Council, and warn them before it was too late. He just had to run a little further.

He peeked over the rim of the bowl. At least twenty Asdelarcen were in front of him, guarding the gate. He knew almost that same number were behind. They didn’t know which bowl he had dove into – it was still quite dark, despite the graying of the sky.

Dilmir closed his eyes, trying to regain his breath. He needed cover. He could make it to the gate and get inside, but he needed to distract the Asdelarcen to do it. They expected fire by now, and besides, he didn’t want to risk burning down the city.

Dilmir smiled. He knew what to do. “Venel’terenim,” he said, breathing slowly, feeling his magic. “Dreth. Veler im.”

The ground exploded. The roots beneath the field in front of Eld’rin shattered, bursting into a million shards of wood. A great wind came out of nowhere, whipping the slivers into a cyclone, a wall of churning brown.

Dilmir climbed out of the bowl, completely hidden from sight. The cyclone moved with him, the shards of wood spinning about him at a dizzying speed. The ground in front of Eld’rin was broken, blasted apart by the roots Dilmir had shattered. The short grass was gone, replaced by soft, churned earth.

Dilmir could feel spells ricocheting off of the walls of the cyclone, deflected by the sheer speed of the spinning bits of bark. He forced himself to run, ignoring the burning in his legs. There were cries all about him as the Asdelarcen were forced to flee, unable to penetrate the cyclone or stop it. Dilmir wished he had thought of this earlier, but he hadn’t had time to. The Asdelarcen had always been just behind him. And besides, they were masters at adapting. They would find a way through eventually.

Dilmir reached the gate, the vines which made it up now scratched and marred by his cyclone. He found the hole in it and scrambled through, leaving the storm of bark and dirt behind him, blocking the way into Eld’rin. The Asdelarcen would get through, but at least they would be delayed for a moment.

Dilmir allowed himself to pause, and catch his breath once more. Eld’rin was still shadowed, the dim half-light of pre-dawn just beginning to break. In the distance, Dilmir could see the middle of Eld’rin, and several elves there. Trainers, going to the fields. Dilmir doubted there would be any training today.

Alfimir. That was who he needed to see. Just a few days ago, Dilmir would never have gone to Alfimir, but his recent actions had changed his mind. It seemed Eltuthar was right about the archmage: Alfimir really did want to protect the elves above all else. He would know what to do.

“Kelther imir en shenith Alfimiril,” Dilmir said between gasps, picking up a stray twig as he did so. The twig glowed a dark shade of green and twisted in Dilmir’s palm, pointing east, towards the middle of Eld’rin. The Royal Quarter. Alfimir must be there.

Dilmir dropped the twig and took one shaky step forwards, but then stopped, his magic feeling something. He flung his magic wide, and felt his stomach knot unpleasantly. There was a void, hanging in the air just above the edge of the forest to the north. And directly below the void, moving slowly, was a mass of shielded undead. Cyprien was back. The army was here. The attack had begun.

After all this, after running all night, Dilmir was too late. The elves weren’t ready. The Asdelarcen had captured all of the scouts who found them, making sure the undead remained hidden. Eld’rin had plenty of mages, but they weren’t gathered or ready, and from what Eltuthar had said, there wasn’t much they could do against the undead anyway. And to top it all off, Dilmir had managed to lose both Inilidin and Ilrin in one night.

He turned, looking at the still tightly shut gate. The Council should be able to handle the Asdelarcen, but only he could defeat the undead. That was what Eltuthar had said. There was no time to warn anyone; he needed to be there, at the gate, to stop the undead. He knew what he needed to do. He’d have to get close to the zombies, close enough almost to touch them. Only then would he be able to get past their shields and destroy them. He only hoped Cyprien wouldn’t join in the fight. He had no idea how to fight a vampire.

His hope was instantly crushed. There was a blast like thunder, a flash like lightning, and the gate of Eld’rin was rent in two. The two halves blasted backwards, revealing Cyprien himself, hovering in midair, his palm raised. Dark magic.

One of the gate-halves clipped Dilmir as it flew backwards, and he was yanked backwards violently from the brief impact. He landed hard, thrown against the packed earth of Eld’rin, and for a moment, everything was a blur of sound, motion, and pain.

He struggled to come to, his tired body wanting to just shut down. But he forced himself back into wakefulness, feeling with his magic before him. The undead were there, just starting to stream through the gate.

He scrambled to his feet and moved away from the horde, towards the middle of Eld’rin. The trainers had obviously seen the gate torn in two, and were now standing, shocked, looking up at Cyprien. Unaware of what was going on, young elves were now pouring into the middle of Eld’rin, ready for training, only to stop dead at the sight which met them. Dilmir came up against an unmoving crowd of shocked elves. The zombies advanced. It was going to be a massacre.

Fortunately, the elves didn’t train all day for nothing. The shock only lasted for a moment, then the spells began. First only a few elves attacked, spells flying against the undead. The zombies ignored the assault, the spells sparking out of existence on their shields. But then more elves joined in the attack, until there was an entire hailstorm of magic streaming at the undead.

There was no effect. Eltuthar had been right. The shields about the undead were impervious to magic. Every spell which struck them died instantly, fading into the early-dawn light which was now entering Eld’rin. A red light.

A few elves fired spells at Cyprien, but these were similarly ineffective. They evaporated before him, disappearing with the boom of thunder. Whatever protection Cyprien had, it was something no one knew how to breach.

“Dilmir!” It was Felnir, Endir close behind. Both were healed fully, and both had their swords drawn. “What happened?” Felnir asked, shouting over the roar of spells. “When you didn’t return, we feared—”

“I ran into the Asdelarcen,” Dilmir said. “All of them. I only got back just now.”

“Ilrin?”

Dilmir shook his head.

“What do we do?” Endir asked, surveying the unhurried advance of the undead.

Dilmir looked at the shambling horde. “Eltuthar said only I can defeat them,” he said.

“You’ll be slaughtered!” Endir protested.

Dilmir shook his head. “I can handle them,” he said, remembering what Eltuthar had told him. “You two just try and keep people alive.” The elves had been steadily backing up, but he knew they couldn’t do this much longer. The undead were drawing closer.

“How?” Endir said. He had a point. They couldn’t fight the undead.

“Scatter,” Dilmir said. “Get the elves to run, but use magic to keep the undead contained. We don’t want them going all over Eld’rin. If we can keep them here, I’ll have a better chance of killing them. Seal off the Lower and Upper Quarters first. That’s where most of the elves are.”

Felnir nodded. “We’ll do it,” he said, already making for the Upper Quarter. Endir hesitated a moment, but then sprinted for the Lower Quarter.

Dilmir drew his sword and faced the undead horde. The mass of elves had stopped moving, finally pinned between the advancing undead and the walls of the Royal Quarter. The zombies grew closer, shambling slowly, unconcernedly. Dilmir could see that they were men and elves, some wearing tattered armor, some wearing little at all. Their skin was black, riddled with mold, and their faces were empty, their jaws slack.

The two forces met, the undead instantly becoming more alive. They lashed out, striking at every elf within reach, using their arms like cudgels. Eltuthar hadn’t been mistaken about their strength. Dilmir saw one swing its fist into an elf, sending the elf flying backwards. Another brought its arm down on an elf’s head, instantly causing his legs to buckle as he was driven to the ground.

The elves drew their swords and attacked, but these had no effect on the undead either. The shields about them were too strong, blocking both blade and magic. Dilmir knew what he had to do.

“Asin,” he said, “esvress mathal hesrenim enedil im.” Using magic to block physical attacks was foreign to him, but if Eltuthar said it would work, then it probably would. His shield glared with a white light as the spell took effect. If it had worked, his shield would block blows from the undead. But for how long, Dilmir didn’t know. Magic was powerful, but it couldn’t make him invincible.

It was now or never. He gathered his magic about him, limiting it to a small area, gripped his sword tightly, and plunged towards the undead.

He really hoped Eltuthar knew what he was talking about.

He ducked as an undead swung its arm at him. He could feel the shields around them, slippery just like those around the Asdelarcen. He reached out, his hand passing through the shield, and touched the zombie’s leg. Spongey flesh met his fingers, but he ignored the sensation, and concentrated. The zombie burst into flames, and then ash. The shield about it broke, and Dilmir felt the magic come under his control. This gave him an idea.

He quickly used the magic from the zombie – which was no small amount – to bolster his new shield. This might actually work. If he could kill the undead faster than they could overwhelm his shield, he would never be in danger.

A zombie came at him from nowhere, shuffling quickly, arms already swinging. Dilmir turned to face it, waiting. The undead crashed into his shield and tried to grab him, but was thrown backwards by the shield. For now, the spell was working. Dilmir ran to the undead, penetrated its shield with his hand, and caused it to crumble to dust.

Two down. Only an army to go.

With a blast of sound, Dilmir returned. He had been unable to find Inilidin. He wanted to keep searching, to go into the forest and somehow find her, but he didn’t know where the Asdelarcen had gone. It could take forever to find her, and time was something he did not have. He needed to make sure Ilrin was safe.

She wasn’t. As the whiteness of teleporting faded back into color, Dilmir saw those he had left, recovering from various injuries. Felnir and Ilrin’s parents were sitting against the wall, conscious but looking very dazed. Aimim had sustained an injury to her head, a trail of blood going down the side of her face. Endir seemed the least injured – he was helping Felnir to his feet. Two Council mages were there, currently occupied in healing Aimim. Ilrin was gone.

Everyone looked up as Dilmir appeared out of thin air.

“Dilmir!” Endir said. “They were just here! The Asdelarcen – quick, you might still catch them.”

“How did they get past the Council?” Dilmir asked. There had been twenty mages outside. Twenty! If what Eltuthar had said was true, they should be just as powerful as the Asdelarcen, with the shield provided by Alfimir.

“They overran us,” one of the mages supplied. “I’m sorry, Dilmir. We had to surrender. Delarthen is pursuing them now.”

Dilmir had known it was a trap, known the Asdelarcen would attack, but he would never have guessed that they could be this quick. They had fought the Council, subdued those inside, and escaped, all in the time he had spent at the main gate? It was almost impossible to believe. But they had acted quickly before.

Dilmir flung his magic wide. If the Asdelarcen had indeed just left, then they should be nearby. He ought to be able to sense them, sense their shield. His magic flew out across the Upper Quarter, finding only normal elves cowering in their homes. It spread and spread, and he continued to stretch it, until at last, at the very edges of his magic, he found them: seven Asdelarcen shields, quickly slipping away. They were already at the main gate! How could they be so fast?

“I’ve found them,” Dilmir said.

“Go,” Endir said. “We’ll be fine here.”

Dilmir nodded. They would be fine, now that the Asdelarcen had what they wanted. He pulled his magic back into himself, focused on the main gate, and once again the oppressive silence and whiteness took him.

A moment later he landed. The hole was still in the main gate, so he slipped through it. All was just as he had left it: silent and still. Behind him, Eld’rin was equally silent. Most elves had probably gone to sleep by now; Dilmir judged it to already be past midnight. There was still no moon.

He let his magic race out of him, covering the grass in front of Eld’rin, and then surging into the forest beyond. Just as before, he felt nothing. He stretched his magic to its furthest limits, and for the briefest of moments, felt two Asdelarcen shields. They moved beyond the range of his magic and vanished.

North. They were north of Eld’rin, somewhere in the forest. Again, Dilmir marveled at their speed. No elf could run that quickly, much less while hauling an unconscious victim. He knew of no spell which could be responsible, either. At least none that a Cursed elf could cast.

He had no time to ponder the speed of the Asdelarcen. He gathered his magic again, focused on the spot where he had felt the Asdelarcen, and teleported.

He landed a moment later, dark trees all around him, pines blocking out the starlight. He was deep in the forest, far deeper than elves went to train. These woods were wild, the elves’ influence over them weak. He let his magic out, let it race across the forest floor, and found the Asdelarcen far sooner than he expected.

There were nine. No, twenty. Thirty. Forty? And then he felt something else, a great mass of Asdelarcen shields, lying on the ground, unmoving. He couldn’t count them, but judged there to be at least a hundred.

Dilmir instantly whipped behind a tree trunk. What had he found? Why were there so many Asdelarcen here? Carefully, he moved out from behind the tree, and began to creep forwards. The Asdelarcen weren’t running; they were just sitting there, about a hundred yards away.

It was pitch black. All Dilmir could see was the shadows of tree trunks as they loomed up out of the darkness. Slowly, he crept closer, keeping a lock on the Asdelarcen with his magic. He couldn’t feel them, but he could feel the slipperiness of their shields, and used that like a beacon, drawing him steadily closer.

Finally he saw them. He slipped behind a tree, and saw up ahead a small clearing. Several Asdelarcen were sitting in a circle, seated around what Dilmir initially assumed to be a fire, but quickly saw was just a pile of branches, enchanted to glow with a dull red light. No, they were warming their hands over the branches, as if it were a fire. Heat without fire? Dilmir would never have thought of such a thing.

More Asdelarcen were moving about, some talking, some sitting by themselves, some clearly trying to sleep on the hard ground. A few Asdelarcen seemed to be standing guard over several limp forms. With the aid of the faint light from the not-fire, he could see the colors on their robes. Council scouts. Dilmir had found the Asdelarcen camp. Surely Ilrin was here.

But then Dilmir saw something else. Beyond the Asdelarcen, in the shadows of the trees on the other side of the clearing, was a vast mound of darkness. It was shielded like the Asdelarcen, but it was unmoving. Dilmir could feel the individual shields, about a hundred of them, all still and silent. And then it clicked.

He had found the undead army. He was sure of it. He knew little about undead, but what he did know made sense. Right now they were barely alive, without direction. That was why they were slumped, as if lifeless, on the ground in a great pile. But once whoever was controlling them arrived, they would wake, and march on Eld’rin.

No sooner had Dilmir reached this conclusion than his magic felt something, something far above him, flying through the air with impossible speed. It wasn’t a spell, and it wasn’t shielded. Dilmir could feel it. But it was strange. His magic passed around it, almost as if it wasn’t there. Merely a void in the air, a space where magic could not exist. This was no Asdelarcen trick. This was something else.

The void descended, aiming for the clearing, and landed a moment later. A dark cloak. A hood. A pale hand gripping the hilt of a short-sword. It was a vampire.

Two Asdelarcen hurried up to the vampire, each carrying one end of a shrouded figure. That was Ilrin, Dilmir was sure of it. But what did the vampires want with her? She was limp, either unconscious, or simply weakened through magic. The Asdelarcen handed her to the vampire, who took her easily in his arms.

Dilmir didn’t know what was going on, but he couldn’t let the vampire take Ilrin. He had to do something. There were a lot of Asdelarcen, but they were Cursed and he wasn’t.

He stepped out from behind the tree, and locked his magic on the void which was the vampire. A moment later, several sharp cracks echoed through the forest. Branches from above the vampire descended, roots burst from the ground, and vines whipped through the air, all seeking the vampire.

For a moment, Dilmir thought the vampire didn’t stand a chance. His attacks all seemed to strike. But then there was a report like lightning, a sudden, blinding flash, and everything – the branches, the roots, the vines, all of it – turned to ash.

Dilmir’s weapons disintegrated, and the vampire turned, allowing Dilmir to see his face. It was the only face every elf knew. The only face they all learned to fear. It was Cyprien Essenwein, lord of the night.

“Kill him!” Cyprien shouted as the Asdelarcen surged to their feet, alerted to Dilmir’s presence by his attack. “I’ll return at dawn.” Then he leapt upwards, flying up past the trees, Ilrin clutched tightly in his arms. He cleared the tree tops, and then flew east, once again going faster than Dilmir thought possible. Vampire magic. Dark magic.

Dilmir seemed rooted to the spot, his blood cold. Cyprien was gone before it even occurred to him to attack again, and by then the Asdelarcen had located him, and begun casting spells.

Five spells slammed into Dilmir’s shield before he knew what was going on. They all dissipated harmlessly against it, but they served to snap him into awareness. He ducked back behind the tree, spells slamming into it and shattering the bark.

Eld’rin! He had to get back to Eld’rin. The undead were here – the elves had to be warned. He could feel the Asdelarcen fanning out, trying to surround him. He’d have to run, try to get away from them before teleporting. Eltuthar had told him once that if a spell struck him while he was teleporting, he’d appear at his destination with the spell inside of him, nearly impossible to reverse. Dilmir would rather avoid that.

So he ran, crashing through the forest. Spells pursued him, but he dodged around trees and under logs, the spells slamming into bark and dirt all around him. The darkness blinded him, the intermittent flashes of spells serving to disorient him further. Was he even headed in the right direction?

Dilmir dove under a fallen log and held his breath, hoping maybe the Asdelarcen would lose him in the dark. If he could just stay hidden from them for a moment, he could get out of here. Dawn. Cyprien had said he’d return at dawn. Doubtless he meant to attack then, especially now that Dilmir had found the undead. That didn’t give Dilmir much time. It was still the dead of night, but dawn was only four or five hours away.

He listened as the Asdelarcen drew closer, still firing spells at every shadow. They milled about for a moment, some crossing over the log he was hiding beneath. Then they seemed to move on. He waited, listening as the sounds of pursuit grew fainter and fainter. It had worked. They had lost him. Carefully, he stood. He could still see them, a ways away, but they were plenty far. Dilmir gathered his magic, focused on Aimim’s home, and teleported.

Again, there was silence, there was whiteness… and then Dilmir was launched backwards, landing back in the forest, the blinding glare from his spell obscuring all else. Blocked. Again. Somehow, the Asdelarcen had enchanted this whole section of forest to prevent teleportation, but had been smart enough to activate it only once they were sure Dilmir was inside. Now he was trapped, and he had just given away his position.

Sure enough, he heard cries from in front of him, as the Asdelarcen realized where he was. He scrambled to his feet, blinking to get rid of the afterimage of his spell. The Asdelarcen controlled this section of the forest. Who knew what other traps they had set up? They had brought Ilrin this way, clearly intending for him to follow, and now they had him.

Spells began to rain down on him, several striking his shield and dissipating. But those which didn’t, struck the forest floor, causing vines and roots to reach out and grab Dilmir.

Dilmir blasted them back with magic, enchanting the air before them doing what enchanting the vines themselves could not. The roots were thrown back, repelled. More vines tripped him up, but he used magic against them similarly, pushing them aside.

Then he ran, aware that the Asdelarcen were very close. Spells burst into sparks on his shield, slammed into trees next to him, or thudded into the ground at his feet, blinding him with clouds of dirt.

As he ran, he let his magic expand, feeling the forest around him. It was difficult to do while running, but he started to twist the forest behind him, sending up great walls of roots and vines, sending branches crashing down, even toppling trees when he sensed Asdelarcen beneath them.

Every time, the Asdelarcen dodged his attacks. They would jerk out of the way, moving impossibly fast. They weren’t teleporting, Dilmir knew that much, but they seemed to just increase in speed, jumping this way and that, avoiding all of his attacks.

They were faster, faster than him, and it wasn’t long before they caught up with him. A sword swung behind Dilmir, barely nicking the back of his leg. Another swung at his head, just missing him. Without turning, Dilmir caused a root to rise up right between him and the pursuing Asdelarcen. That did the trick, the root slamming into them full force and knocking them down. Dilmir kept running.

Eld’rin. He had to get to Eld’rin. But he couldn’t teleport, and he had gotten all turned around with the Asdelarcen chasing him. And it was dark, too dark to see. An idea occurred to Dilmir. A foolish, wild idea. But why not?

“Fener, edel’fener mathal!” he cried, skidding to a stop. He felt his magic blast out of him, covering the roots, the trees, the ground. Every part of the forest he could touch. At least fifty Asdelarcen were in front of him. His magic touched it all.

And it all burst into fire. Every last twig, blade of grass, and dead leaf, spontaneously ignited with such force that Dilmir was thrown to the ground, flattened by the explosion. His shield kept the heat from him. The very ground he was on was encased in flames, but they could not touch him.

Well, at least now he could see.

He spun on the spot, the flaming forest even more disorienting than the dark one had been. “Kelther imir en shenith Eld’rinil!” he cried, his magic still connected to the flames. The inferno parted at his command, creating a straight corridor ahead of him. He ran down it without a second thought, trusting that it would take him to Eld’rin.

Behind him, he could feel the shielded forms of Asdelarcen, somehow still alive, chasing him. But now he had a head start. He had to get back to Eld’rin. He had to warn them.

Dawn was nearing.

Aldir had spent plenty of nights without sleep, but this was definitely one of the most uncomfortable. It was cold, almost freezing, and the side of Aimim’s house he was leaning against was hard and rough. He and twenty Council mages were standing guard outside the home, waiting, watching the mist. Aldir wasn’t sure if he expected the Asdelarcen to attack or not, but at least the tension of not knowing was serving to keep him both awake and relatively warm. If not comfortable.

But this was something Aldir wanted to do. No, something he needed to do. The other Council mages had asked him why he was here, and he had tried to explain it, but the truth was that he didn’t know himself. He just knew that this was where he needed to be, between the Asdelarcen and Ilrin.

Aldir had no delusions about Ilrin. She hated him, and probably always would. Aldir could understand why. He had pretended to get close to her, pretended to be her friend, and then betrayed her and used her to get her only true friend banished. What he had done was irredeemable, and Aldir knew it.

He supposed that was why he was here. He could never take back what he had done, but he could at least try to make up for it, if only a little. Aldir had no interest in Dilmir or his magic, or even in Ilrin. She was Dilmir’s friend, not his. But this was something he owed her. Something he had to do. So he would stay here, in the cold and the dark, and do his part to keep her safe. It was the least he could do.

Aldir sighed. His decision to help protect Ilrin had not been greeted with enthusiasm by the Council. This wasn’t his job. But then, he and the Council had been seeing less and less eye-to-eye recently. Ever since Ilrin, Aldir had grown to hate the Council, the way they sought to bend the laws to suit their own needs, their calloused disregard for the lives they were sworn to protect. Aldir had thought he was joining a noble organization when he first heard about the Council. He had thought he would be saving elves. But now that he thought back on it, he had done very little saving at all. Even banishing Dilmir had caused more harm than good.

There was a sudden rush of noise from inside the house. Aldir, being close to a window, turned and peered inside, just in time to see Dilmir vanish in a blaze of light. What was he doing? Aldir was no fool; he knew that Dilmir was more powerful than all twenty of the mages here combined. If he was gone, the Asdelarcen might attack.

Aldir turned back, scanning the mists in front of him. They were thick, heavy with frost from the winter air. He couldn’t even make out the closest house. The Asdelarcen could be a mere twenty feet away and he’d never know it. He got a better grip on the hilt of his sword.

A shadow appeared, fuzzy and unresolved in the mist. The mages tensed, unsure if it was an Asdelarcen or just a citizen. Another shadow joined it. Then two more. Then more behind them. A moment later, an entire group of elves walked out of the mist and stopped before the Council mages. There were at least fifteen of them, and they all wore the dark cloaks and hoods Aldir had come to associate with the Asdelarcen.

“Stand aside,” said the lead Asdelarcen, a tall elf with a commanding voice. “Our business is not with you.”

No one moved. Delarthen, leader of the Council, stepped forward. “You mean to harm a citizen of Eld’rin,” he said. “We cannot allow that to happen.”

There was a moment of silence. “We are many,” the lead Asdelarcen finally said. “If we fight, much Elven blood will be spilt. We both wish to avoid that. We seek only to take the girl. Ilrin. No one else need be harmed.”

It was Delarthen’s turn to be silent.

“We know,” the Asdelarcen said, lowering his voice slightly, “that you watch this girl. That you fear her as you fear Dilmir. That you would banish them both if you could. We want the same thing you do: to remove them both from Eld’rin. Let us pass. Let us take the girl, and Dilmir will follow her. Neither will return. You will be rid of them both. You don’t need to fight us.”

Delarthen remained silent. Aldir felt his heart sink. Everything the Asdelarcen had said was true: the Council did want to banish Dilmir. Ilrin and the others were lesser priorities, but the Council wouldn’t pass up a chance to be rid of Dilmir. Especially if they didn’t have to do anything except stand aside. Aldir knew what Delarthen’s answer would be before he gave it.

“No one is to be slain,” Delarthen said, making up his mind. “You will take the girl, and then you will leave, never to return.”

“Of course,” said the Asdelarcen. “We seek only Dilmir and the girl, and one will follow the other. No others shall be slain. You will never hear from us again.”

Delarthen stood aside, signaling to the other mages to do so. They stood away from the door, some with confused looks, some with expressions of grim satisfaction, knowing that they would soon be rid of Dilmir.

Aldir remained where he was, standing beside the window. He had guessed Delarthen’s response, but actually seeing it happen still took him by surprise. This was the Council. The Council! They were sworn to protect the elves, not make deals with their enemies. He watched as the Asdelarcen advanced between the ranks of mages, moving unimpeded to the door. He wanted to move, wanted to stand in their way, but he couldn’t.

The Asdelarcen reached the door, and knocked on it. It was opened a moment later by Felnir. Without hesitation, the lead Asdelarcen smote Felnir on the chest with his palm. His hand went right through Felnir’s shield, and a blast of magic followed, flinging Felnir across the room and against the opposite wall. He did not get back up.

The Asdelarcen began filing into the house, and still Aldir couldn’t move. What was wrong with him? Was he afraid? Maybe, but that wasn’t what was keeping him here. What, then? The shock? That hardly seemed likely. He had guessed, after all, what Delarthen would do. But maybe that was it. Maybe he just hadn’t believed it. Maybe he hadn’t wanted to believe it. But here was the evidence, filing into Aimim’s house before his very eyes. Realization of the full corruption of the Council crashed down on him, and Aldir finally drew his sword.

The Asdelarcen reacted faster than he had expected, the ones closest to him whipping their swords out as well.

“Aldir!” Delarthen called. “Stand down!”

But Aldir didn’t care. He leapt to the stairs, blocking the Asdelarcen, and stabbed his sword at the closest one, aiming straight for his heart. The Asdelarcen batted his blow aside easily, and whipped his blade back, slashing Aldir across the chest. The sword bit deep, scraping across Aldir’s ribs. It seared like fire, the sword severing skin and muscle as it went, and pain exploded outwards from the wound, blinding Aldir to all else. He fell backwards, his sword falling from his grip, and landed on his back just inside the doorway, blood blossoming across his chest.

“Leave him!” Delarthen commanded, striding forwards.

The Asdelarcen withdrew, though they kept their swords drawn. Delarthen ascended the stairs and pulled Aldir out of the way.

Through the haze of pain, Aldir could see the Asdelarcen subduing the occupants of the house. Felnir still lay against the wall, breathing but clearly unconscious. Endir, who had arrived just minutes ago, was again wounded, being kept down at the point of an Asdelarcen’s sword. Aimim and Ilrin’s parents had all been blasted away similarly to Felnir. Out of the three, only Aimim was conscious, a thin trickle of blood running down her forehead. She was lying against the wall, another Asdelarcen standing nearby, his blade ready if she tried to get up.

Ilrin had already been subdued. Two Asdelarcen were clutching wounds she seemed to have given them, but her sword was now lying on the floor, bloody, and Ilrin was limp, the Asdelarcen having enchanted her.

Two of them picked her up, gripping her upper arms, and dragged her past Aldir and out of the house. Aldir struggled to get up as they passed, but Delarthen forcefully put a hand on his shoulder and kept him down. The pain made Aldir’s vision flicker, and he fell back to the floor.

The Asdelarcen, having gotten what they came for, left. The mages let them go, and they all filed into the mist from whence they had come, silent and efficient. Delarthen hauled Aldir to his feet. Another mage came to help, and together they dragged him down the steps of Aimim’s home.

Delarthen let Aldir slip to the ground, and re-entered the house. Aldir could hear him speaking, presumably to whoever was still conscious: “The Asdelarcen overwhelmed us. Their numbers were too great, and we were forced to surrender. My mages will heal you, and we will pursue the Asdelarcen. They will not get away with this.”

The lying traitor! Even through the pain, Aldir struggled to stand, to turn, to strike Delarthen. But he couldn’t. He couldn’t even roll over. He tried, but the pain was too much. It finally reached his mind, and darkness took him.

“No. I absolutely forbid it.”

Dilmir sighed, and tried, again, to explain.

He had teleported himself and Ilrin back to Aimim’s home, where, with the help of both Aimim and Felnir, Ilrin had been quickly healed of the lingering effects of the Asdelarcen’s curse. The Council, hearing that Aimim had been attacked, had sent several mages to guard the house.

Then Ilrin’s parents had arrived, demanding that Ilrin return with them to their home. In a way, Dilmir could understand their logic. He was the one who had brought the Asdelarcen here; being in close proximity to him seemed to be asking for trouble.

But things had changed. The Asdelarcen were after Ilrin now, as he had explained several times already. They had attacked her twice, and nearly succeeded in removing her from the city only a few short hours ago. Dilmir had been there both times to stop them, but the Asdelarcen kept adapting. He needed Ilrin where he could be sure she was safe, and that meant right next to him.

Ilrin herself was sitting in a corner of the living room, silently observing her parents and Dilmir. Dilmir was sure she agreed with him, but knew also that she didn’t like going against her parents. So she remained silent, watching.

Aimim and Felnir were there too. Ilrin’s parents had objected vehemently to Felnir’s presence once they understood he was a Dark Elf, but Dilmir had been ready for that. Alfimir himself had given Felnir permission to stay in Eld’rin, and as he had pointed out, he would never have done that if Felnir was a threat to anyone. If anything, it meant Felnir could help.

And so Ilrin’s parents had gone back to their original argument, saying that being in the same house as Dilmir was inviting trouble. Dilmir hated arguing with them. He had known them for several years, and had grown to like them, to see them almost as a second father and mother. But that had been before they had listened to the Council about him, and before they had decided he was dangerous.

“Look,” Dilmir said, finally tiring of the circular arguments. “The Asdelarcen are after her, not me. They’ve attacked her twice in one day. I can protect her. It’s safer for everyone if we all stay together.”

He paused. Ilrin’s parents looked mutinous. He didn’t like having to say that, drawing attention to his power. But it was true. They were all safer if they stuck together.

“You used to know me,” he said, lowering his voice to a more normal volume. “You used to trust me. I know things have changed, and I know there’s danger. But I’m asking you: trust me again, as you once did.”

Ilrin’s parents looked at each other. Her father looked angry. Her mother looked uncertain.

“We should stay,” Ilrin said, finally speaking. Her parents looked at her. “We should,” she said softly. “This is the safest place in Eld’rin.”

“I don’t suppose we have a choice,” Ilrin’s father said. He turned to Dilmir. “But if we stay here,” he warned, “it’s because of you. You say you can keep Ilrin safe. If she’s harmed…”  

“She’ll be safe here,” Dilmir said. “I swear it.”

And for once, he believed it. The Asdelarcen kept adapting to what he did, but he wasn’t the only obstacle to them anymore. Felnir was here, possessing strange new magic from Eltuthar, and there was a small army outside, at least twenty Council mages surrounding the house. When they had learned that Ilrin was staying in Aimim’s home, they had doubled the guard.  Dilmir wasn’t sure if that was because both Aimim and Ilrin were in the same location, or just because they didn’t trust him. Possibly both. Either way, he was glad for once for their protection. It would be hard indeed for the Asdelarcen to attack now.

Once again, all they could do was wait. Dilmir had told no one, not even Ilrin, about the approaching undead army. He agreed with the Council: there was no need to cause a panic. For all they knew, the army was already somewhere nearby, and elves fleeing Eld’rin could run right into their waiting arms. It would be best for the scouts Alfimir had sent to find the undead first. Then the Council could assemble an army and meet them outside of Eld’rin. Dilmir would be there of course, and with any luck, the army would fall. But until they knew where the undead were, they could only wait.

Ilrin’s parents sat down at the table, and Ilrin quickly moved to join them, speaking to them both in a voice too quiet for Dilmir to hear. He crossed to a window, and looked out.

A double line of mages was in front of the front door, their backs to it. Night had come, darkness settling over Eld’rin, and already the mists had begun to form, hiding the shapes of the other houses in the Upper Quarter. It was late, far later than Dilmir had realized.

He scanned the line of mages, wondering if Alfimir was there. Dilmir doubted he would be. The archmage was probably doing his best to find the undead army, coordinating with scouts and mages. Sure enough, Alfimir was not to be found amongst the ranks of the Council. But oddly, Aldir was.

What was he doing here? Dilmir remembered seeing him earlier, guarding the Lower Quarter with the other mages, and again it struck him as odd. Aldir was a spy, not a mage. Dilmir had seen him train a few times with the sword, and he was a fair fighter, but he was no warrior. What did he mean by standing guard here? Dilmir shook his head, and turned away from the window.

Felnir was yawning and stretching, clearly the most at ease in the room. He hadn’t been here for the other attacks, so DIlmir supposed that made sense. Ilrin and her parents were sitting around the table, quiet, concern and worry etched on their faces. Aimim was sitting in a chair against the wall, watching them. They were all waiting, waiting to see what the Asdelarcen would do next. Was the combined threat of Dilmir, Felnir, and twenty mages enough to keep them away?

There was a sudden pounding on the door, and everyone jumped. Dilmir was closest; he strode to the door and opened it, and a mage helped Endir inside. He was bleeding.

“Endir!” Both Dilmir and Ilrin cried. Dilmir took him from the mage and hauled him inside, closing the door behind the mage as he left. Endir seemed to have sustained several slices from a sword, and there was a bloody bruise on the side of his head. He slumped to the floor, and Ilrin knelt by his side, quickly healing him.

“What – What happened?” Dilmir asked.

Endir seemed to be wavering in and out of consciousness. “Inilidin,” he croaked. “They… took Inilidin.”

Dilmir’s anger and magic blasted out of him unexpectedly, breaking a nearby vase. Asdelarcen! Of course! He should have known this would happen. He had been so focused on the threat to himself and to Ilrin, that he hadn’t even thought about Endir or Inilidin. The Asdelarcen couldn’t reach Ilrin, not with him here, so they had gone for who they could reach. He should have seen this coming.

“What happened?” Ilrin asked, gently helping Endir to sit up.

Endir shook his head. “I was there,” he said, still a little groggily, “at her home. Just to see her, you know? They blasted through the door. Turned it to ash. They went right through me and her parents… we didn’t stand a chance. They knocked us all out – had to hit me with a sword because of my shield. Then they grabbed Inilidin. They know how to go through the shields… they enchanted her so she couldn’t fight back, and left.”

“How long ago?” Dilmir asked. He could stop them if they were still in the city.

But Endir shook his head. “I don’t know,” he said. “I lost consciousness. It could have just happened, or it could have been a while ago.”

Well, there was only one way to find out. They had tried to get Ilrin out through the main gate; it stood to reason they’d try to get Inilidin out the same way. Dilmir just had to be there waiting when they did. He pulled his magic in, and was about to cast the spell, but then paused, a horrible thought occurring to him.

“Hurry,” Ilrin said, looking at him. “You might still catch them.”

“What if it’s a trap?” Dilmir said, looking at her. It suddenly all made sense. They’d been going after Ilrin all this time, even when the Council had been guarding her. Inilidin had been unprotected. Why go after her now? Unless… “They’re trying to lure me out,” Dilmir said. “The Asdelarcen. They don’t want Inilidin. They want me… or you.”

Ilrin looked at him, and Dilmir knew she realized the same thing. It was a trap. If he left, even for an instant, the Asdelarcen would probably attack.

Ilrin stood. “You have to try,” she said. “You can’t just leave her. Go quickly. Find her. Stop them. Then bring her back here. I know you can do it quickly.”

That was true. Dilmir could teleport to the main gates, spread his magic out, and find the Asdelarcen. Freeing Inilidin ought to be fast, unless the Asdelarcen had again adapted. But what about while he was gone? How long would it take him? Long enough for the Asdelarcen to attack?

“Go,” Felnir said, approaching. “We’re not defenseless here. There are twenty mages outside. Plus me,” he added. “I won’t let any Asdelarcen get inside.”

He had no choice. Dilmir was loathe to leave, knowing it was a trap, but Ilrin was right: he couldn’t leave Inilidin. She was innocent in all this, her only crime being his friend. He couldn’t let the Asdelarcen take her for that.

“I’ll be back as soon as I can,” he said. “Stay safe.”

Ilrin nodded.

And then Dilmir teleported to the main gate.

He landed a moment later. The dark main gate of Eld’rin loomed behind him, shut tight against the night. Everything was shadows here; not even the moon was out. Winter was truly here now, the chill in the air turning Dilmir’s breath to clouds of white mist.

Dilmir flung his magic wide in all directions, searching, feeling for the familiar slippery feel of an Asdelarcen’s shield. There was nothing. He pushed his magic to the limits, covering the entirety of the Lower Quarter – further than he had ever gone before – but still he felt nothing. It seemed that Eld’rin was devoid of Asdelarcen.

He turned, wondering if the Asdelarcen had somehow already gotten past the gate, and saw two shadowy forms lying on the ground nearby. He ran up to them. Council mages, slain by the sword. The Asdelarcen had come this way, and had already escaped. Endir must have been out for longer than he realized.

Dilmir looked at the gate, and sure enough, there was a hole in it, the vines blasted aside to create a gap large enough for an elf to climb through. Dilmir slipped through the smoking hole, coming out on the other side of the gate, outside of Eld’rin.

Again, he flung his magic wide, pushing it to its boundaries, searching the fields around Eld’rin and the forest beyond. Nothing. No hint of Asdelarcen, no hint of elves at all. The forest was empty, save for the nighttime creatures prowling it, unaware of Dilmir’s touch.

Dilmir wasn’t about to give up. He picked a single blade of grass from where he stood, and rested it in his palm. “Kelther imir en shenith Inilidinil,” he said. He had used this spell once before, when trying to find Alfimir in the forest. The spell had found him, even though he had been far beyond the range of Dilmir’s magic.

But that did not happen now. The blade of grass lit up with a soft blue glow, but instead of pointing in a specific direction, curled in on itself, unable to find its target. At least she was alive. The grass wouldn’t have lit up at all if she wasn’t. But where she was, Dilmir couldn’t say.

He strained his magic, pushing the boundary of how far it would go, but he only felt more nighttime creatures of the forest. No elves, no magic, and certainly no Asdelarcen. Inilidin was gone.

Dilmir stood there for a moment more, conflicted. He knew every second he stayed out here, Ilrin could be in danger. But he couldn’t just leave Inilidin. He had to find her. He could teleport further into the forest and try again, sending his magic outwards. But he knew that could take forever. He had no idea in what direction the Asdelarcen had taken her. He couldn’t possibly scour the whole of the forest. He would find her. He would. But he needed to return to Ilrin. He needed to know she was safe.

He pulled his magic back into himself, hating himself for leaving Inilidin, but knowing he had no choice. “I’ll find her,” he promised himself. “I swear I’ll find her.” And then he teleported, sound ceasing, colors brightening to white.

It seemed that Eltuthar was right about Alfimir. Felnir went to find him, and returned shortly afterwards, saying he had agreed to help. The archmage didn’t want to help Dilmir or Eltuthar, but the threat of the undead was something he could not ignore. He had agreed to learn the Velyor Enedil Asvarien from Felnir, and when Felnir had left, was preparing to depart for the Council Mages guarding Eld’rin, to cast the shield on them. As Eltuthar had suspected, he would not show them how to create the shield; only cast it on them himself.

It seemed too convenient to be true, until Dilmir reminded himself that this was only an alliance of convenience. Once the threat of the undead was gone, they would have to deal with the repercussions of what they had shown Alfimir. From now on, he had the power to create an army of Asdelarcen. Eltuthar didn’t seem overly worried by this, but his optimism didn’t spread to Dilmir.

However, this meant that the Council had the same advantages as the Asdelarcen. Both were immune to spells now. That at least was good, as it meant Ilrin was actually protected. The Council wouldn’t let her leave her home, and still wouldn’t let Dilmir anywhere near her, but at least she was safe. That was enough for now.

Eltuthar had left shortly after Felnir. It was far too dangerous for him in Eld’rin. The Council would arrest him if they found him, but that wasn’t what he feared. If the Asdelarcen learned he was here, they would certainly try their best to kill him. He was, after all, the whole reason Aranthar was attacking Eld’rin.

Therefore, he had told Dilmir to teleport him back to the dwarves. Dilmir had never teleported anyone so far away, but Eltuthar assured him that he couldn’t be too far off. Dilmir hoped he was right. Eltuthar had vanished in a blaze of light and a blast of sound, leaving Dilmir with no way to know if he had arrived where he was supposed to. But at least he was far away, and safe.

Felnir had stayed behind. Dilmir was sure the Council would arrest Felnir once they knew he was here, but again what Eltuthar had said about Alfimir held true. Felnir was a Dark Elf, and as such had powers the Council did not. Alfimir knew this, and knew therefore that he could be of help if the undead attacked. So he had allowed Felnir to stay in Eld’rin, at least until the danger had passed. Alfimir didn’t rule the Council, but he was an archmage, and his word was not to be questioned. So Felnir stayed.

Dilmir wasn’t sure what he was supposed to feel anymore. He knew who the Asdelarcen were and why they were here, but he also knew that an undead army was on its way. He could defeat the zombies, but could he kill them all? And what about Cyprien? He was supposed to be leading the army, and would doubtless be ready for Dilmir. Then there was Ilrin. She was safe, but was the cost too high? Would Alfimir turn on him and Eltuthar once the threat was passed? No, on the whole, things had gone from bad to worse. The most Dilmir could say was that for once he at least knew most of what was going on.

These thoughts circled in his mind as the day progressed. It felt strange, not going to training, but there was far too much going on. Noon arrived, and Aimim provided lunch for the three of them (Felnir was still there, having nowhere else to go).

Dilmir asked Felnir about the Asdelarcen. They might be Cursed, but they knew things they shouldn’t, like how to enchant energy. And during their last attack on him, their spells had swerved to avoid an obstacle.

“That’s nothing new,” Felnir said when Dilmir mentioned this. He grabbed a hunk of bread and bit into it with gusto. Apparently being on the run with Eltuthar hadn’t afforded a great opportunity for large meals. “Spells can be as simple or as complex as you make them. You can easily make a spell sense what’s in front of it, and turn to avoid it. You’ll probably learn that before your training ends. You just don’t see it done very often.”

Dilmir nodded. That made sense. “What about enchanting energy, though?” he said. “I thought only Eltuthar knew how to do that.”

“So did I,” Felnir said, now grabbing a wheel of cheese and cutting himself a large wedge. “But you have to remember that the secrets of magic were known and studied long before the Curse was cast. A lot’s been forgotten since then. Eltuthar is just rediscovering it.”

“So Aranthar must have just found out the same secret,” Dilmir realized.

Felnir nodded, mouth finally too full to speak.

If anything, that made Aranthar more dangerous. He and Eltuthar had both been studying magic, but Aranthar had been doing so for much longer. Who knew what secrets he had discovered which Eltuthar knew nothing about? How were they possibly going to survive Aranthar when he finally decided to attack?

The undead. They were the threat right now. One problem at a time. They’d deal with Aranthar when he arrived.

They finished lunch soon after. Not sure what else to do, Dilmir decided to go to training. He was sure Erundil would be waiting for him, and there wasn’t much else he could do right now. Ilrin was safe, the Asdelarcen had the Council to deal with, and Alfimir was sure to have scouts scouring the forests around Eld’rin, searching for the undead. Until the undead came, Dilmir might as well continue training.

Felnir said he would stay put. Alfimir had given him leave to stay in Eld’rin until the threat was past, but he was still a Dark Elf. Many here thought of him as the enemy, so it was best if he didn’t go walking around Eld’rin if he didn’t need to.

Dilmir strapped on his tarrenith and his sword, donned a cloak, and opened the door. Eld’rin was unusually quiet. The presence of the mages inside the city had made the atmosphere tense. The Council had chosen not to tell people about the approaching army until they found it, to prevent a panic, so it was the Asdelarcen the people feared. Dilmir was no longer their only target, and if the Council was taking the threat seriously, then so should they. As a result, almost everyone was either home, or at training. Very few elves were to be seen walking about Eld’rin.

The uneasy atmosphere quickly spread to Dilmir as he stood in the doorway. Felnir came up behind him.

“Everything fine?” he asked.

Dilmir nodded. “Just thinking,” he said. He descended the steps to the ground below.

“Be careful,” Aimim said, standing in the doorway as well.

Dilmir turned. “You be careful too,” he said. “The Asdelarcen don’t seem to be after me anymore.”

“She’ll be fine,” Felnir said. “I’ll—” He abruptly stopped talking, looking at something beyond Dilmir. His eyes narrowed, then widened in realization. “Duck!” he shouted, pulling Aimim down.

Dilmir flattened himself to the ground, surging his magic outwards as he did. He should have done that before he ever opened the door.

A spell flew through the open doorway, right where Aimim had been standing, and embedded itself on the far wall. Dilmir had felt it as it flew past, and it had been slippery. Asdelarcen.

Both he and Felnir leapt to their feet. Dilmir’s magic raced out from him, quickly locating several shielded Asdelarcen – at least eight in total – spread around the house in a semi-circle, hidden behind other Elven houses. They must have just been waiting for him to leave.

“Venel’terenim, hart imit!” he cried. His magic dove into the ground, causing the roots beneath the Upper Quarter to spring upwards. Several Asdelarcen were pinned to the ground instantly. The rest ran, dodging Dilmir’s attack as if they had expected it. They only ran for a moment, before turning and all casting spells simultaneously at Dilmir.

Dilmir’s first thought was to block the spells with roots, but the Asdelarcen were probably ready for that. He couldn’t touch them with his magic, and he couldn’t block them with roots. What was left? He didn’t have time…

“Asin,” Felnir shouted, leaping to the ground next to Dilmir, “enneres ves elnen im il. Seneth mathal elnen arth kier imil.” Dilmir couldn’t begin to guess what the spell had done, but Felnir charged forwards, completely unarmed. He took all the spells aimed for Dilmir, straight to the chest before Dilmir had time to react.

The spells dissipated before reaching him, vanishing harmlessly.

“You – What—”

“I’m a Dark Elf,” Felnir said, glancing at Dilmir.

Of course. He must be using one of Eltuthar’s secrets. Dilmir immediately wondered why Eltuthar had refrained from teaching him this incredibly useful skill, but he didn’t have time to think for long.

Seeing that their spells were useless, the Asdelarcen Dilmir had not already trapped with roots – five in all – drew their swords and advanced. The image clicked in Dilmir’s memory. What was he doing? He had dealt with this just this morning.

He raised his hand, flooded his magic into the roots below his feet, and said, “Dreth. Kier imit.”

The roots shattered, thousands of sharp splinters exploding outwards, all aiming towards the Asdelarcen. As before, they seemed to have no defense against the attack. Several raised their cloaks to ward off the slivers of wood; the rest just turned and ran. It didn’t matter. The splinters caught up with them in less than a second, tearing into them like a thousand jagged shards of glass. The Asdelarcen fell to the ground, crying out in pain.

Dilmir didn’t bother trying to stop the Asdelarcen as they staggered to their feet and ran. The ones he had trapped with roots also wriggled free and escaped. He had beaten them; he had stopped the attack. Actually finishing the job, actually killing them, never entered his mind. It was the greatest of crimes to kill another elf. Only the Council or the archmage could make that decision.

Besides, the attack didn’t make any sense. Why had the Asdelarcen suddenly decided to attack him again? The attack didn’t fit with their other attempts to kill him either. Every time, they had adapted, compensating for what he had done previously. This time they had just attacked. It was almost as if they hadn’t planned the attack fully. As if their attention was somewhere else. As if…

“Ilrin,” Dilmir muttered, sheathing his sword. The attack had been a distraction. The Asdelarcen had adapted, trying to keep him occupied while they went after Ilrin again. It was the only explanation.

“They’re after Ilrin,” Dilmir said, turning to Felnir. “I’m sure of it.”

“Go,” he said, not bothering to ask how Dilmir had reached his conclusion. “I’ll stay here in case they attack again.”

Dilmir nodded, and then sprinted through the Upper Quarter. The more he ran, the more he became convinced that the attack had been a diversion. The Asdelarcen had shown themselves to be adaptable and capable. Attacking Dilmir without even bothering to compensate for what he had done just that morning wasn’t like them. The real attack was going on deep in the Lower Quarter. Dilmir only hoped the Council mages could handle it.

He sprinted out of the Upper Quarter, and made straight for the entrance to the Lower Quarter. A Council mage was positioned on either side of the entrance, and they, recognizing Dilmir, made to stop him. Dilmir had no time to explain. He caused two thick roots to burst from the ground on either side of him, shielding him from the mages as he ran past them into the Lower Quarter.

As he did so, he glanced back, and saw that Aldir was with the Council mages. This struck him as odd. Aldir was no mage. What was he doing there? He had no time to wonder though. With each footfall, more time passed. Would the Asdelarcen get past the Council? Could they hold them off until he got there?

Dilmir finally rounded the last bend and saw Ilrin’s house. It was surrounded, not by mages standing at attention, but several elves, lying prone on the roots. By the way they were lying, Dilmir guessed that they were either dying, or already dead. No one else was there, and the door to Ilrin’s home was blasted apart, leaving a dark hole.

Dilmir rushed forward, noting as he did so that several of the dead elves were Asdelarcen. So the Council had at least put up a fight. In fact, most of the dead elves were Asdelarcen. Only a few were Council mages. Where were the rest?

Dilmir skidded to a halt in front of a mage who was still alive. He had clearly been blasted backwards by some force, and had hit his back against the root. Now he was trying to heal himself, but his injuries were making it difficult, distracting him. One needed complete focus to use magic; debilitating pain tended to get in the way.

“Athen,” Dilmir said, touching the mage on the shoulder. He had to touch him, because he was encased in a slippery shield of magic – the result of the spell Felnir had shown Alfimir. Most of the mage’s injuries healed, Dilmir’s magic being sufficient to dull his pain.

“Did they take Ilrin?” Dilmir asked, kneeling beside the mage.

The mage nodded with difficulty. “Attacked us,” he said. “Couldn’t stop them… her parents tried to fight… knocked them out.” He nodded to the forms of Ilrin’s parents, lying just within the door. Dilmir could see them breathing. They were all right for the moment.

“Where did they go?”

“Entrance,” the mage coughed. “Main gate. Hurry; they just left.”

Dilmir nodded and stood. The Asdelarcen were fast, fast enough to attack, overpower Ilrin and her family, and escape. But Dilmir was faster.

He gathered his magic, not bothering to cast a spell, his concentration sufficient, and teleported himself to the main gate. Again, sound ceased briefly as everything turned to white. Then Dilmir landed at the main gate, right between two surprised Council mages. He was just in time.

Two Asdelarcen appeared, dragging an unconscious Ilrin between them. They had come from one of the main trees of Eld’rin, which meant they had somehow managed to run all the way through the Lower Quarter, and past more mages, before reaching the gate. Dilmir immediately sensed they would not be easy to stop.

He was wrong. As he sent his magic towards them, he quickly realized the one thing they had forgotten. The Asdelarcen were shielded from magic, but Ilrin wasn’t. Dilmir quickly merged his magic with hers, finding an enchantment from the Asdelarcen rendering her muscles slack and limp, and undid it.

Ilrin sprang to life, jerking out of the Asdelarcen’s surprised grips. They turned, not understanding how she had freed herself of their enchantment, and their moment of hesitation gave the Council mages behind Dilmir enough time to figure out what was going on.

Knowing spells were pointless, they drew their swords and charged the Asdelarcen. The Asdelarcen seemed to realize this was a fight they couldn’t win. They looked at Ilrin, somehow free of their magic, looked at Dilmir, all too ready to blast them into oblivion, and at the oncoming mages, their swords glinting in the noon sun. Then they turned and ran.

The Council mages pursued them, trying to cut off their escape with spells, but Dilmir didn’t follow. He ran to Ilrin, who was looking a little unsteady and very confused.

“What – How?”

“The Asdelarcen tried to take you,” Dilmir said. “They distracted me. Are you all right?”

Ilrin nodded. “What about my parents?” she asked.

“They’re unconscious,” Dilmir said, “but I think they’ll be fine. The Asdelarcen were just after you.”

Ilrin nodded. “I tried to fight,” she said, her voice slurring some. “But they struck me. They went through my shield… like you did with their roots. They drained my energy. Then they enchanted me…” She dropped to her knees, unable to stay standing.

“Right,” Dilmir said, hauling her to her feet and surging his magic into both of them. “That’s it. From now on, we’re staying together.”

And in an instant, he had teleported them both back to Aimim’s home.

It was still morning when Dilmir exited the Lower Quarter, alone. They had reported the attack as he had suggested. Bound by their laws, the Council had been forced to act, although Dilmir privately thought that several of their members wished the Asdelarcen had just finished him off.

Ilrin had been sent home, and Council mages had been stationed outside her door. Mages had also been stationed throughout Eld’rin: at the main gate, at the entrance to the Lower Quarter; everywhere there was a chokepoint.

Dilmir was beginning to doubt what he had said earlier about feeling safer with mages around. The Asdelarcen seemed to be Cursed – of that he was fairly sure now – but they still had magic neither he nor the Council seemed to know about. They were shielded, as were their spells, and that gave them a great advantage. Dilmir wasn’t sure if the Council mages were really much of a threat to them, and if that was the case, then Ilrin really wasn’t protected at all.

Once he realized this, Dilmir had tried to stay and guard Ilrin as well, but the Council wouldn’t have it. They couldn’t easily claim he was a threat, since the Asdelarcen had attacked him as well as Ilrin, but Ilrin’s parents had protested, saying that he was responsible for the presences of the Asdelarcen, and that everyone near him was in danger.

Dilmir hadn’t expected that. He had met Ilrin’s parents before, and had liked them. Yes, they believed the Council, but they had seemed more open-minded than most. To hear them say what they had… it had been a blow Dilmir hadn’t been expecting.

And so here he was, leaving the Lower Quarter. Training had begun long ago, but there was little point in going there. Dilmir doubted he could keep his mind on what Elmir was saying, and he didn’t want to anyway. He was worried about Ilrin, about the Asdelarcen attacking her again. But he couldn’t go there either. Her parents had forbidden him from coming near their home, or their daughter.

Dilmir paused in the middle of Eld’rin, unsure where to go or what to do. He had to stop the Asdelarcen someway. But how?

Someone whispered his name from the nearby shadows.

He turned. The sun was up by now, casting long shadows across Eld’rin. The voice had come from one of these, but he saw no one.

“Dilmir!” came the whisper again.

He caught sight briefly of a hand, beckoning him towards the closest, and darkest, shadow. He paused only a moment, and then approached the shadow cautiously. He could just make out the shape of an elf standing there, crouched, hiding in the shadow.

The elf reached out and pulled Dilmir into the shadow. It was only then that Dilmir recognized him.

“Felnir?” he said.

When Eltuthar had been attacked at Arath Imil, Alfimir had slain all of his followers, the Eth Aniliim, or Dark Elves as the Council liked to call them. None had survived. However, Felnir had been imprisoned by the Council at the time, captured as a Dark Elf, and had thus escaped Alfimir’s fiery purge. The Council had been forced to let him go when Eltuthar fled. That had been the last Dilmir had seen of him.

“What are you doing here?” Dilmir asked.

“Looking for you,” Felnir said. “Eltuthar’s with me. He needs to see you.”

“Eltuthar – What, here?” Dilmir lowered his voice. “If he’s caught—”

“He won’t be,” Felnir assured him. “He teleported both of us right into your Aunt’s home. No one knows he’s there.”

Eltuthar was Uncursed like Dilmir, but to end the Civil War, Sonlen – who had been archmage then – had put his own brand of curse on him. All of Eltuthar’s magic had been purged from him. While he could still sense the magic about himself, to use it caused him great pain. If he continued to use magic, Sonlen’s curse would kill him. To teleport both himself and Felnir to Eld’rin must have been very dangerous.

But he was here now, and there was no one Dilmir would rather talk to. Eltuthar knew more about magic than anyone he knew. He could answer all of Dilmir’s questions about the Asdelarcen. He might even know how to get rid of them.

Dilmir nodded to Felnir, and they set out for the Upper Quarter, Felnir keeping his hood low to hide his face. He was still a Dark Elf, and as such was technically an enemy of the elves. It would be better if he wasn’t seen.

They arrived at Aimim’s home shortly afterwards, Dilmir opening the door and stepping inside. He closed it quickly once Felnir entered.

Eltuthar was there, sitting in a chair in the living room, speaking with Aimim. He turned as Dilmir entered, and all of Dilmir’s thoughts about the Asdelarcen died instantly.

The last time he had seen Eltuthar, he had been strong. He was in his middle years by Elven standards, and his hair had been gray, but he had still exuded a sense of power and command.

Now he was weak. His cloak was dusty and tattered. His skin was drawn, the bones of his face sharply defined. He slumped in the chair wearily, as if he didn’t even have the strength to stand.

“Dilmir,” he said weakly, his thin face breaking into a smile.

“What happened to you?” Dilmir said, before he could stop himself.

Eltuthar’s smile flickered. “Sit, Dilmir,” he said. “There is much I have to tell you.”

Dilmir sat, Felnir finding a seat as well.

“To answer your question,” Eltuthar said, shifting in his seat to face Dilmir (Dilmir saw him wince), “Morindan happened to me.”

“Morindan?” Dilmir repeated. Morindan was the land to the east of Eld’rin, a place of death, ruled by Cyprien and his vampires.

“Morindan,” Eltuthar agreed grimly. “I had been hearing rumors for some time, rumors about the vampires and undead moving, massing at Cyprien’s castle. The land itself was growing cold and oddly still, and I found that all the energy, all the magic, had been sucked out of it. I hastened to Cyprien’s castle, hoping to uncover what was happening.

“I arrived in time to overhear a meeting between Cyprien and an elf called Aranthar.”

Aranthar. The name stirred something in Dilmir’s memory, but he couldn’t place it. He glanced at Felnir, but saw that the name meant nothing to him either.

“An elf?” Felnir said. “Cyprien was actually meeting with an elf?”

Eltuthar nodded. “Plotting, actually. They both seemed to want to destroy Eld’rin, but Aranthar couldn’t do so just yet. He said something about his work in Annelintia being incomplete, and that he couldn’t leave until it was. What that work might be, I have no idea.

“But he also said that because of me, he had to attack Eld’rin early. Apparently, word of my research on the Curse had somehow reached him. He said it was possible I would succeed in lifting it, and that attacking Eld’rin and sowing chaos amongst the elves would buy him some time if I was successful. I was, understandably, both elated and horrified at the same time.”

“Who is this Aranthar?” Dilmir asked.

“I didn’t immediately recognize the name either,” Eltuthar said. “I’ve been hiding with the dwarves though, and they had several records about him. Once I realized who he was, I hastened here with Felnir, to warn you, Dilmir. You see… Aranthar is of our line. He is Uncursed.”

The meaning of these words did not strike Dilmir right away. “Uncursed?” he repeated.

“Uncursed,” Eltuthar confirmed. “And he’s been alive for much longer than either of us. He’s been alive for so long that I’m sure he’s using magic to keep himself that way.”

“How old is he?” Dilmir asked.

“At least two hundred fifty,” Eltuthar said grimly.

The full meaning of what Eltuthar was saying finally sank in. Dilmir had the magic of nearly nineteen years, and he was easily the most powerful elf in Feylund. Or at least he had thought so. But now this Aranthar was Uncursed and had the magic of two hundred fifty years? And he wanted to destroy Eld’rin? Dilmir couldn’t even imagine what an elf could do with so much power. He didn’t know what to say, and just sat there, trying to grapple with the number.

“Currently,” Eltuthar said, “Aranthar is in Annelintia. He said he couldn’t leave there for at least a few months, and left soon after meeting with Cyprien. So at least we don’t have to worry about him just yet. But he left an army with Cyprien, around a hundred undead, and told Cyprien to use them against Eld’rin. He said these undead were shielded with magic, and I found his words to be true. Each was surrounded with more magic than a Cursed elf can possess, and their strength had been augmented as well. One blow from them could probably slay an elf instantly, and the magic makes them immune to both spell and sword. Only you, Dilmir, can hope to defeat them.”

Dilmir’s ability to respond had long since left him.

“Where are these undead now?” Felnir asked.

“That I don’t know,” Eltuthar said. “I had trouble getting out of Morindan unseen. It took much longer than I anticipated, and the toll on me living in a place with no magic for so long was unpleasant. As you might have noticed.” He spread his arms wide, showing just how thin he truly was. “Unfortunately, I lost track of the undead. Cyprien could have led them here already.”

“There’s been no attack,” Dilmir said, finally regaining the ability of speech. “If they were here, they would attack.”

“That’s the last thing Aranthar mentioned,” Eltuthar said. “He has agents in Eld’rin, and told Cyprien to wait until they said it was safe to attack. What they’re waiting for, I’m not sure, but—”

“The Asdelarcen!” Dilmir said, suddenly springing to his feet.

“The – who?” Eltuthar repeated.

“The Asdelarcen,” Dilmir said. “They’ve been here, attacking me. They must be Aranthar’s agents! Who else could it be?”

“You’ve been attacked?” Eltuthar said sharply. “Who are these Asdelarcen? Dilmir, tell me what’s been going on.”

So Dilmir did. He told Eltuthar about the Asdelarcen and their attacks, how their magic was slippery, how he couldn’t affect it, and how they now seemed to be going after his friends.

When he finished, Eltuthar leaned back in his chair. “These are Aranthar’s agents,” he said. “I have no doubt.” He was silent for a moment. “As for why they’ve turned to your friends,” he said, “I have no idea. But it seems clear that they’ve been trying to get rid of you, knowing that you pose a threat to the undead.”

“Can I defeat the undead though?” Dilmir said. “If they’re shielded like the Asdelarcen…”

“You said you broke through the shield once, right?” Eltuthar said.

Dilmir nodded.

“By touching the root they had enchanted? Yes, that’s the secret.” Eltuthar leaned forward. “There was a spell, back in the early days of magic before the Curse, which could create such a shield. It was the dwarves of all people who uncovered the secret; apparently they make a habit of preserving very old documents. That’s how I know about it.

“According to what I read, it is possible to measure the distance magic has traveled. It loses power as it travels, so when a spell is cast, or even when you use your magic, Dilmir, it’s slightly less powerful even a few feet away than it is right next to you. There was a spell which could detect this drop in power, and if it was above a certain threshold, just block any magic which touched it. The only way around it is to enchant the object at point blank range, which is what you did when you touched that root. The drop in power was too low for the enchantment to sense, therefore it couldn’t block you.”

“So…” Dilmir said, trying to keep up, “essentially if I touch an Asdelarcen, I can go right through his shield?”

Eltuthar nodded.

“And the same holds true for the undead?” Dilmir guessed.

Again, Eltuthar nodded. “But,” he added a moment later, “the undead have two shields. One is identical to what these Asdelarcen have. You can get through that. But beyond that is a shield of pure magic, strong enough to deflect any spell from a Cursed elf. Only you have the magic to overwhelm that shield.”

“That’s not much of an advantage,” Felnir pointed out. “Why are the Asdelarcen so worried about Dilmir stopping the undead? If he has to walk right up to them, they could kill him easily.”

“Not… quite,” Eltuthar said. “I won’t deny it’s dangerous, but as an Uncursed elf, Dilmir, you have certain advantages. Magic is best suited to blocking energy. If you try and block a physical object or force with it, usually nothing happens.”

Dilmir knew this. That was why he hadn’t bothered modifying his shield when the thorns were crushing him – it wouldn’t have made any difference.

“However,” Eltuthar said, “this is only because the energy required to block a physical force is a ridiculously large amount. A Cursed elf could never hope to conjure such a shield. But you, Dilmir, have access to much more magic.”

“So if I make a shield to block the attacks of these undead,” Dilmir said, “it will just… work?”

“No,” Eltuthar said. “You merely have the magic to make the shield at least take a hit. After one or two blows, the shield will evaporate. However, being Uncursed, you can pull magic from nearby, and use it to keep the shield up. It’s still dangerous, but if you can keep your shield in place, the undead won’t be able to hurt you.”

Dilmir sat back, trying to process what Eltuthar had said.

“My guess,” Eltuthar said, “is that Aranthar doesn’t think you can possibly defeat all of the undead. But he still wants you out of the way before he attacks, because there are only a hundred zombies. My best guess is that Aranthar has limited numbers of them, and doesn’t want to lose any.”

“Ilrin,” Dilmir said to himself. He had been thinking about the shields of the Asdelarcen, and had just realized something. “If the Asdelarcen can block magic from everywhere except right next to them, then they are immune to spells, right?”

Eltuthar nodded. “Completely,” he said.

“Then the Council mages guarding Ilrin have no chance against them,” Dilmir said. “The Asdelarcen are immune to spells, and their own spells are shielded; there’s nothing the Council can do. The Asdelarcen could just walk in there and take her.”

Eltuthar sat back, thinking. Dilmir remained standing, on the verge of leaving Eltuthar and running straight to the Lower Quarter.

“I think,” Eltuthar finally said, “that it’s time we alert Alfimir to what is going on.”

“Alfimir?” Dilmir echoed, his worry temporarily interrupted.

“Yes,” Eltuthar said. “We have to warn the Council about the undead. And I think… I think it’s time we gave the Council an edge against these Asdelarcen. You can’t be everywhere, Dilmir, and the Council is bound by its laws to protect Ilrin. They need to be able to fight back against the Asdelarcen.”

“But… how?”

“Simple,” Eltuthar said. “This shield the Asdelarcen possess – it is easily created by even a Cursed elf. The secret of its formation was lost long ago, but I, in my studies, uncovered it. We will show this to Alfimir, and he in turn will shield the Council just as the Asdelarcen are.”

Dilmir was shocked into silence. It was Felnir who finally spoke.

“That’s… That’s stupid,” he said bluntly. “Alfimir is our greatest enemy. Why would we give him such a secret?”

“Alfimir is not our greatest enemy,” Eltuthar said. “Aranthar is, and he’s Alfimir’s enemy too. Right now, the most important thing is that we stop these undead. I think Alfimir will recognize that.”

“But…” Felnir protested. “You’ll be giving him a great advantage over us as well! A shield even Dilmir here can’t breach easily?”

“You’ve met Alfimir before,” Eltuthar said calmly. “Consider what you know of him. I’ve known him for most of my life. He has one goal only: to protect the elves. However misguided he might be, every action he takes ultimately stems from that single drive. He fears my magic, and what it can do in the hands of power-hungry elves. That is why I can entrust him with the secret of these shields: because I know that he will keep it hidden, and never let the Council or anyone else know how to create them. He was there at the Civil War. Neither of us want to repeat that.”

“What if you’re wrong?” Felnir said. “What if Alfimir has changed? What if you tell him how to create this shield, and then he turns around and tells the secret to the Council?”

“Then we’ll deal with it,” Eltuthar said, his voice still calm. “You know we can.” He looked pointedly at Felnir.

The look stirred something in Dilmir: a small shred of resentment. “You’ve known how to create these shields all this time,” he said to Eltuthar, “but you never showed me? Why? Why didn’t you show me the secrets of magic you had found?”

Eltuthar turned to him. “Because I was afraid and unsure,” he said. His response had been quick, and Dilmir guessed he had thought about this conversation for a long time. “You have to understand,” Eltuthar said, “that I caused one of the bloodiest battles in Elven history with those secrets. I never, ever, want to see that repeated. I trusted you, Dilmir, I did, but I saw far too much of myself in you. You had good intentions, but I did too when I was young. I didn’t tell you everything I had found because I didn’t want to take the risk – however small – of starting another war. And besides, you didn’t need to know them. I didn’t know about Aranthar then.”

“Well I could use them now,” Dilmir said, wavering between resentment and simple exasperation.

“And I’ll tell you,” Eltuthar said. “But right now time is of the essence. We have to warn Alfimir about the undead. If we find them and destroy them, then I’ll tell you everything I can, Dilmir. But until then, time is against us.

“Felnir,” he said, turning, “you must find Alfimir. I will be arrested if caught, but the Council has no grounds on which to hold you. And I doubt Dilmir has much credibility with the Council at the moment. It has to be you. When you see him, tell him how to form the Velyor Enedil Asvarien. That’s the shield the Asdelarcen are using. You remember the spell?”

Felnir nodded, frowning. “And you’re sure about this,” he said. “Telling this to Alfimir?”

“Alfimir is nothing if not predictable,” Eltuthar said. “And besides, him having the shield hardly spells our doom.”

Felnir nodded grimly, and stood.

“What do I do?” Dilmir asked.

Eltuthar looked at him. “Stay alive,” he said. “And try to keep everyone else alive too. You might be able to kill these undead, but it won’t be easy. You’ll have to be ready when they come.”

Dilmir nodded. A few short minutes ago, he had been concerned about the Asdelarcen and the threat to Ilrin. Leave it to Eltuthar to introduce an undead army and an all-powerful elf into the mix. Dilmir only hoped that was the end of the surprises.

Ilrin watched the early morning mist outside her window. It eddied back and forth, thick, quickly obscuring everything. It always grew thicker in the winter.

The rest of yesterday had been without incident. Ilrin wasn’t sure if this was a good thing or a bad thing. Dilmir had told her how he had been able to control the roots once he touched them, and how the Asdelarcen’s spells had been blocked by his shield, but neither of them really thought the Asdelarcen had been beaten.

Dilmir had very nearly been killed. Somehow, this time it felt far more real to Ilrin. Even when they had both been surrounded by fire, she had known how to get out, provided she had enough magic. This time, neither of them had known what to do. Dilmir had told her how, before he had touched the roots, there had been a moment where he had realized just how powerless he was.

Dilmir, powerless. It was a concept neither of them were familiar with. Yes, Dilmir had again survived, and this time several Asdelarcen had been captured. But somehow it didn’t feel like a victory. Ilrin knew the rest of the Asdelarcen were still out there, and the lack of an attack since then had her worried. She doubted they would just give up. They were planning something, and she hated to think what it might be. All of their attacks had been close calls. Would they eventually come up with something Dilmir simply couldn’t escape?

She shook herself. She couldn’t stay here all day, thinking. Dilmir was probably already at the middle of Eld’rin, waiting for her.

Along with Endir and Inilidin, they had discussed the Asdelarcen and their attacks far into the night, staying up much later than they should have. Endir had been elated that his idea for a shield had worked so well, and had insisted on modifying it, adding even more safeguards. Ilrin had to admit it was a good idea, and Dilmir had replicated the new shield for all of them.

Eventually they had needed to concede that it was time to return home. Endir and Inilidin had left, and Dilmir had walked Ilrin to the middle of Eld’rin as he always did. Ilrin wasn’t sure why he always did that, nor why he insisted on waiting for her every morning. But she had no objections, and he seemed to enjoy it.

She glanced around her room quickly, making sure she had everything she needed. She had slept in this morning; Eledim would be waiting for her impatiently.

Sighing at the thought, she left her room, walked down the short hall, and entered the living room. Her parents were still sitting at the breakfast table, their schedules not quite as demanding as hers. She crossed to the door and was about to open it, when her father’s voice stopped her.

“Ilrin,” he said.

She turned.

He got up and walked to where she stood. “I want you to stop spending time with Dilmir,” he said.

Ilrin looked up at him, completely bewildered. “Why?” she finally asked.

“Because it’s dangerous,” her mother said, standing as well.

This again. “He’s not dangerous,” Ilrin said. She was surprised. Her parents believed the Council like almost everyone else, but they had also met Dilmir on several occasions, and knew that he was no one to be feared. They generally didn’t mind her spending time with him.

“It’s not that,” her mother said, “it’s because of the danger he’s attracting. These Asdelarcen… everyone around him is in danger.”

Ilrin’s father nodded. “They don’t care who they attack,” he said. “And you’ve already been attacked once. We just don’t want you hurt.”

“So you want me to stop spending time with him as a result?” Ilrin asked. “Shun him like everyone else?”

“Not shun him, no,” her mother said gently, approaching her. “We just want you out of harm’s way. Being around him is dangerous right now.”

“Not being around him is dangerous,” Ilrin countered. “He’s the only one who can stop these attacks.” She didn’t know if this was true, but he was certainly the only one capable of handling them.

“These Asdelarcen have attacked only him,” her father said. “He’s the target, not anyone else. Someone’s after him, and we wouldn’t see you hurt as a result.”  

“I’m not going to stop spending time with him,” Ilrin said. “I’ll be careful, both of us will, but he’s my friend. I’m not going to run away because I might get hurt.”

She opened the door and left before her parents could protest. It closed behind her, and she walked down the root. She understood them; they just wanted to keep her safe. And they were right, she knew that too. But abandoning Dilmir was the last thing he needed right now. She meant what she had said: she was his friend, and friends didn’t abandon each other when there was danger. 

Still, they had a point. He was attracting danger, and being around him was dangerous. But Ilrin had known about his magic long before the other elves had, and she hadn’t abandoned him then. She wasn’t about to now, either. She hated going against her parents though. She knew they just wanted to keep her safe, but staying away from Dilmir just wasn’t the answer.

She walked down the roots, the mist hiding her, her feet knowing the way out of the Lower Quarter. It was still quite dark, the mist and shadows combining to hide Ilrin from the world, isolating her from all else.

At least until a shape drifted out of the mist and joined her. It was Inilidin, beads of dew clinging to her hair. She caught up to Ilrin quickly, and they continued down the root together.

No one could ever replace Dilmir for Ilrin, but it was Inilidin she could confide in. She listened well, never judged, and unlike Dilmir, didn’t assume every problem was one she needed to personally fix. Not that Ilrin disliked that about Dilmir. But it did mean she didn’t tell him everything. With Inilidin, it was different.

She told Inilidin about what her parents had said, and about how she knew they were right, but also knew that distancing herself from Dilmir was not the answer. As she had known she would, Inilidin was sympathetic and understanding.

“You just have to be patient,” she said. “They know Dilmir. They’ve met him. Once this is over, they won’t mind you seeing him.”

“I know,” Ilrin said. “I still don’t like going against them like that though.” They were silent for a moment, the mist shrouding them from the world as they walked. “What about your parents?” she asked. “Do they still believe the Council?”

Inilidin nodded. “I don’t know how I can convince them otherwise,” she said. “They haven’t met Dilmir like your parents have. They really think he’s dangerous.” She sighed. “I hate sneaking out every night.”

“I know,” Ilrin said. “But things will change in time. Eventually, everyone will have to admit that Dilmir really is just trying to help. Sometimes I wonder—”

But what Ilrin wondered was abruptly lost, as a spell flew by her, narrowly missing her arm, and slammed into the bark of the root just ahead of them. Thorns instantly sprouted in their path, quickly growing in size, trying to block their way forward.

Ilrin didn’t pause to think. “Run, Inilidin!” she cried, dashing for the thorns herself.

Inilidin reached them first, scrambling through the only remaining gap. The thorns scratched her as she squeezed by them, snagging on her clothing and costing precious seconds as she struggled. By the time she was free, the gap was almost gone. Ilrin was trapped.

“Go!” she told Inilidin.

Inilidin didn’t waste any time arguing, but promptly ran away down the root, the mist quickly enveloping her. No spells went after her. For that, Ilrin was thankful. Unable to get past the thorns, she turned to face whoever had cast the spell.

Three elves, hooded and cloaked, were quickly approaching her out of the mist. Asdelarcen, she was sure of it. What they wanted with her, she couldn’t guess. Her father’s words came back to her unbidden, and she realized she might have been hasty in disagreeing with him.

The three Asdelarcen stopped a short distance away, mist eddying about them. “Come with us,” the middle one said, “and you won’t be harmed.”

Ilrin wasn’t about to come with them willingly. She drew her sword, silently thankful that she had it with her out of pure habit.

“Do not be foolish,” the left-most Asdelarcen said. “We do not want to hurt you. Come with us.”

“No,” Ilrin said. There really wasn’t anything else to say.

The Asdelarcen looked at each other, nodded, and as one drew their swords. Ilrin realized they weren’t even going to try spells. Did they know about the shields? How could they, unless they had spies inside Eld’rin?

Slowly, the three Asdelarcen advanced. The two on either side fanned out, trying to come at Ilrin from the sides, while the middle one walked forwards slowly. Ilrin was gifted with the sword, and her particular style made it easier for her to fight multiple opponents. But these were three grown elves, and she didn’t have much space.

The Asdelarcen clearly knew she could handle a sword, because they didn’t attack immediately. The ones on either side made a few feints, but never fully committed. They stayed out of Ilrin’s reach, and she backed up as far as she could, her back almost touching the thorns behind her.

They knew she couldn’t watch them all. Sure enough, the second she turned slightly to her left, the one on her right attacked. She turned to face him, and the one on her left attacked, the middle Asdelarcen closing in to make sure she didn’t escape.

Ilrin could only go one way, and that was forwards, towards the Asdelarcen on her right. She drove her sword towards him, forcing him to get out of the way, and leapt away from the Asdelarcen behind her.

The middle Asdelarcen swung his sword at her, forcing her to duck. She swiped her sword at his legs as she did so, causing him to leap backwards to avoid the blow, but even as she did so, she felt a sword connect with her back.

She shied away from the stroke, feeling the blade glance off of her ribs rather than penetrate deeply. Still, it stung horribly and she sucked in her breath involuntarily at the sudden pain. She spun on the spot, trying to strike at whoever had struck her, but the Asdelarcen ducked just as she had, and swung at her feet.

Ilrin leapt out of the way, but she was surrounded. She leapt away from one Asdelarcen only to move into the blade of another, this one slicing into her left arm. She cried out as the blade sliced deep, severing muscle, and pulled her arm away.

She was backed up against the wall of the root they were all on now, her back on fire, her arm streaming blood and deadened to all sensation. The Asdelarcen knew she was cornered, and all attacked at once. One struck her sword, wrenching it from her grasp. Another sliced his sword across her right leg, causing her to fall. The other lowered his blade until it pointed at her throat.

They didn’t mean to kill her. They wanted her alive. This, more than anything else, frightened Ilrin. What could they want with her? What did they mean to do? She couldn’t think. Her mind was going fuzzy from all the pain. Or maybe it was the blood loss. She didn’t even immediately register it as two of the Asdelarcen stooped, and hauled her to her feet.

“Quickly,” the third Asdelarcen said.

And then the world flipped upside down. The root they were on tossed and writhed like a snake, and Ilrin was thrown down with the Asdelarcen. The thorns behind her parted in an explosion of ash, and beyond them, mist swirling about him, Dilmir appeared, hand outstretched, fury burning in his eyes. Inilidin was behind him.

The Asdelarcen scrambled to their feet, backing away from Dilmir, but they didn’t run. They still had their swords drawn, and neither Dilmir nor Inilidin had a sword, as both only trained at the blade in the afternoon.

They eyed each other for a moment, the Asdelarcen and Dilmir. Then as one, the Asdelarcen charged, swords held ready.

Dilmir didn’t even move. With a horrible splintering, the root between him and the Asdelarcen shattered, countless shards of wood exploding outwards. Somehow, they all flew towards the Asdelarcen, none coming close to Ilrin.

The Asdelarcen tried to turn, to raise their cloaks to shelter themselves, but it was no use. Thousands of sharp splinters of wood blasted into them, shredding their cloaks into nothingness, and embedding themselves in the leather jerkins they wore underneath. They cried out, two falling to their hands and knees, as blood blossomed across them from a hundred small cuts. The wood wasn’t lethal, but Ilrin was sure it was very painful. And judging by Dilmir’s look, he meant to finish the job.

The Asdelarcen must have reached the same conclusion. They scrambled to their feet and ran, staggering into the mist as quickly as they could, leaving a trail of blood. Dilmir stood for a moment, clearly wanting to pursue them. But then he lowered his hand, and turned instead to Ilrin.

She felt a sudden shift in energy, and felt his magic flood into her. It wasn’t exactly a comfortable sensation. It sometimes felt like someone was within her, controlling a part of her almost. Dilmir was the only one who could do it, and Ilrin had never told him how it felt, so he had no way to know how uncomfortable it could be at times.

Dilmir didn’t bother to speak any Elvish. He just twisted his magic with hers, commanding the magic to heal her body. Ilrin felt her back grow new skin, the slice in her arm knit together, and her leg stop throbbing. But Dilmir was no Lifeformer, and the healing was imperfect. No matter. She could fix it.

He withdrew his magic as Inilidin approached, and helped her to her feet. Ilrin nodded her thanks.

“What – What did they want?” Inilidin asked, her voice quavering. “Why did they attack us?” She looked uncertainly at Dilmir.

“I don’t know,” Dilmir said, the anger slowly leaving his eyes. “I thought they were only interested in me, but it seems like they’re going after my friends now.”

“What do we do?” Ilrin asked.

Dilmir was silent for a moment. “We report this,” he said. “Asdelarcen in Eld’rin? The Council will have to act. To be honest, I’ll feel a lot safer with mages everywhere in the city. It will make it harder for the Asdelarcen to act.”

Ilrin nodded. He was right; it was the obvious thing to do. As she began healing herself more completely, she remembered her parents. If they had wanted her to stay away from Dilmir before, they would be doubly sure now.

The three of them looked at each other in silence as Ilrin worked. The same thought was on all their minds: why had the Asdelarcen attacked them? What were they planning?

Cyprien wished he wasn’t here, stuck in the Great Forest, waiting. He liked to always either be plotting or attacking, and right now he was doing neither. The Asdelarcen were having a meeting nearby, their voices carrying to Cyprien, but he tried to ignore them.

Iskra. That’s what he should be doing: trying to find her a body. If not for Aranthar, he would have started searching long ago. Once Eld’rin was destroyed, he would let the elves panic for a bit before attacking again. He’d visit some of the villages in disguise, try to pick up rumors of any young elf who the elves might fear or respect.

She had to be young. Elves lived a ridiculously long time compared to humans and dwarves, but the older they got, the less suitable they became for possession. Of course, she couldn’t be too young. She had to be well known, or at least recognizable. That was the whole point. Iskra would inspire far more fear if she inhabited a body the elves already knew.

“We don’t need to kill him,” one of the Asdelarcen said, his whisper carrying to Cyprien through the bare trees.

Cyprien glared at him, annoyed at having his thoughts interrupted.

“Those were Aranthar’s instructions,” another whispered back. “We’ve got to kill him.”

“Aranthar said he couldn’t be present,” the first said. “Killing him is preferrable, but he never said it was necessary.”

Cyprien frowned. More delays. He got up and walked over to where the Asdelarcen were, leaning on trees or sitting on stumps. “What’s happened?” he asked. He was getting tired of waiting. He might as well help if he could.

“Dilmir,” one of the Asdelarcen said. “He has some magical shield we can’t penetrate, and he’s found a way to influence our enchantments.”

“So you can’t kill him,” Cyprien surmised.

“We could, eventually,” the Asdelarcen replied. “We’d find a way past his shield. But it would take time, and we’re all impatient to destroy Eld’rin. We need to get rid of him some other way.”

No one spoke. Cyprien glanced at them all, displeased with their lack of initiative. “And you have no ideas?” he said.

“Well…” said another Asdelarcen, this one much older than the others, “none of which are particularly easy. Obviously we can’t kill him, so we’ve got to pull him away from Eld’rin. Far enough away that he won’t know when we attack.”

“A distraction,” said the first Asdelarcen.

Everyone nodded, but no one seemed to have any further suggestions. Cyprien looked at them all with contempt. They had no idea how to handle elves. Manipulating them was easy.

“Kidnap a friend,” he said. “Someone he’s bound to go after. Lead him along as far as you want, and by the time he finally realizes Eld’rin has been attacked, it will be too late.”

“That… could work,” said the old Asdelarcen.

“Of course it will work,” Cyprien said impatiently. “It happens every time I abduct an elf for possession. Some fool always comes chasing after them.”

A few of the Asdelarcen edged away from him at the mention of possession.

“Who though?” the old Asdelarcen said. “He has no immediate family there, and we can’t just abduct any friend of his. We have to be sure he’ll follow, and keep following.”

“Ilrin,” one said. Several nodded in agreement.

But the old Asdelarcen shook his head. “Too difficult,” he said. “She’s the obvious target, but she’s never alone. Dilmir is always with her, and when he isn’t, the Council is watching her.”

This struck Cyprien as odd. He had never heard of this Ilrin. “Why?” he said. “Why does the Council watch her?”

The Asdelarcen shrugged. “Afraid of her,” one of them said. “Dilmir’s been teaching her magic, so they’re afraid of what she might do.”

“Is she… well known?” Cyprien asked.

Several Asdelarcen looked at him quizzically. “I suppose,” one said. “In Eld’rin, at least. Everyone knows she’s Dilmir’s friend.”

Cyprien felt a smile flit across his face. A young elf who was feared. Yes, he would prefer to have an elf known by all, but such a prize wasn’t commonly available. He would settle for one known to those in Eld’rin. If she was young enough, this Ilrin would make a fine host for Iskra.

“Is she training right now?” Cyprien asked.

General confused nods.

“Take me to where I can see her,” Cyprien said. He had to see her, to see if she would do.

None of the Asdelarcen moved.

“Now,” Cyprien said, letting the word out slowly.

Several jumped up to do his bidding. Cyprien followed them through the bare trees, cold leaves rustling underfoot as they approached the edge of the forest. Soon he could see elves past the trees. He and the Asdelarcen stayed behind the trunks, staying hidden.

“There,” one Asdelarcen said, pointing.

Cyprien looked. All the elves seemed to be grouped up, watching something on the ground Cyprien couldn’t see. He looked at where the Asdelarcen was pointing, and saw her: a young elf of about eighteen or nineteen years, with curiously brown hair.

A faint sense of familiarity stirred in Cyprien. Perhaps he had seen this girl before, on some nightly raid. But that hardly mattered. He looked at her critically. Yes. Yes, she would do nicely. She was young, healthy, and he could see the other elves standing apart from her, as if they were afraid of catching something. He nodded to himself.

He turned, silently moving back further into the wood, signaling the Asdelarcen to follow. They did so mutely, probably wondering why he had wanted to see her. He didn’t need to explain himself to them. They were elves.

Cyprien reached where the undead lay a few moments later, the Asdelarcen who had stayed behind in a tense knot nearby. He strode up to them purposefully.

“I’ll make you a deal,” he said, speaking directly to the old Asdelarcen, assuming him to be in charge. “You take this Ilrin, bring her to me, and I’ll take her off your hands. I’m sure it will be easier evading Dilmir without having to take her with you.”

“As you say,” the Asdelarcen said nervously. “But what do you want with her?” he asked.

“That is my business,” Cyprien said, glaring at the elf for daring to ask.

“What if Dilmir figures out we don’t have her?” another Asdelarcen asked.

“Then let him come to me,” Cyprien said. “Uncursed or not, he’s still an elf.”

The old Asdelarcen shook his head. “She’s guarded,” he said. “Dilmir has other friends who would be easier to take.”

Cyprien stepped close to him. “I don’t want his other friends,” he hissed menacingly. “I want her. You will take her, you will bring her to me, I will take her to my castle, and then I will attack Eld’rin.”

“Of course,” the old Asdelarcen said, paling due to Cyprien’s sheer proximity. “We’ll find a way to capture her.”

“Good,” Cyprien said, stepping back. “Do it quickly. I grow tired of waiting.”

“So,” Endir said, idly staring at a nearby root as he thought, “you can’t control the spells these elves cast… what about them? Their own magic? Can you feel that?”

Dilmir shook his head. “Slippery like the spells,” he said.

“Hmm.”

“If you can’t control them or their spells,” Inilidin said, “then you have to focus on what you can control: what’s around them, what’s around you.”

Dilmir nodded. They were all sitting in their usual spot near the upper quarter, Dilmir having related the day’s events. He was leaning against a root, still trying to process everything which had happened. Ilrin was sitting on the ground, unusually quiet, clearly thinking. Only Inilidin and Endir had spoken.

“Inilidin’s right,” Endir said. “What you need is… a shield.” He looked up. “That’s it, Dilmir. You can enchant energy, right? Enchant the air around you. Make a barrier no spell can penetrate.”

Dilmir considered the idea. It was a good idea, except…

“They adapt though,” he said. “These Asdelarcen, they’ve been testing me. It’s obvious now. Every time I escape one of their traps, they find a way to keep me from doing the same thing again. They obviously know things about magic I don’t. I don’t even know if Eltuthar could explain everything they’ve done. I don’t know if a simple shield is going to stop them.”

“Worth a shot,” Endir said.

“I agree,” Ilrin said, finally looking up. Dilmir looked at her. “Inilidin’s right,” she said. “You have to focus on what you can control. These Asdelarcen – you don’t know what they’re going to try next. You might not have time to react, but a shield could allow you to prepare now.”

“What if they don’t use spells next time though?” Dilmir asked. “What if—”

“They aren’t like you,” Ilrin interrupted. Dilmir looked at her, surprised. “You don’t use spells,” she said. “They do.”

Her ability to guess what he was thinking was uncanny. “What about the one we spoke to, though?” he said. “He teleported. No Cursed elf can do that.”

“He didn’t teleport,” Ilrin said. “I’ve seen you and Eltuthar do it, when I was at Arath Imil. It was loud, and there was a blinding light.”

Dilmir considered this. It was true: he had never seen what it looked like when someone teleported. “Then where did he go?” he asked.

“Hiding?” Endir suggested. “You said you could still feel that the tree was slippery – maybe he was right next to it and you just couldn’t tell, since they were both slippery.”

Dilmir paused. “That… actually makes sense,” he said. So the Asdelarcen had been right there the whole time, hoping Dilmir wouldn’t bother to look. They were cleverer than he had thought. But at least they weren’t like him, Uncursed. Ilrin had a point. They kept using spells, and elves just didn’t need to do that if they were Uncursed.

“So this shield,” Endir said, “what should it do?”

“Block everything possible,” Ilrin said. “Definitely everything the Asdelarcen have used so far.”

Dilmir listened to them, an odd sense of trepidation growing in him. They were all taking this a lot better than he was. The Asdelarcen’s words still haunted him: ‘Greater magic draws greater foes’. This wasn’t the Council, or even Alfimir. This was something else, something Dilmir knew nothing about.

“Dilmir?” Ilrin said, snapping him out of his thoughts. “The shield. You need to make it.”

“Right,” Dilmir said. “Sorry.”

Creating the shield took at least two hours. The three of them kept coming up with more and more additions, speculating endlessly on what the Asdelarcen might do. First the shield had to block fire. Then it had to block spells the Asdelarcen might use. Then they realized that the Asdelarcen might be able to just counter it like a spell, and they had to add in counter-measures to specifically guard against that. And so it went, on and on, the three of them trying to think of every possible addition to the shield. Dilmir added everything they suggested, but his trepidation only increased. He had gotten too used to being in control. Now that he had encountered something he wasn’t familiar with, he felt vulnerable.

Eventually they exhausted all possible ideas for the shield. Dilmir replicated what they had done three times, one shield each for Ilrin, Inilidin, and Endir. The Asdelarcen seemed to be focused on him, but they had shown that they didn’t care if he was with anyone when they attacked. Better for them all to have shields. By then, it was almost midnight. Endir and Inilidin departed, and Dilmir walked Ilrin back to the Lower Quarter.

He felt the new shield around himself as he walked back. It was an odd feeling, having a sheath of magic surrounding him. He felt confident it would block any attack from a Cursed elf – indeed, he wished he had thought of this idea long ago. But with the Asdelarcen, he just couldn’t be sure. They seemed to know things about magic they shouldn’t.

He and Ilrin parted, and he returned home, shutting the door softly and moving quietly to his bedroom. Aimim had long since gone to sleep, and he didn’t want to wake her.

Aimim. She was in danger too, as long as he was in her home. Dilmir silently stood in the hallway and stretched his magic out over the house, quickly locating Aimim. He replicated his shield again, placing it around her. She wouldn’t be able to tell it was there – Cursed elves couldn’t feel magic outside of themselves like he could – but that didn’t matter. It would keep her safe. Hopefully.

Satisfied that he had done all he could, Dilmir crept to his bed, undressed, and lay down, pulling the blanket up to his shoulders. He closed his eyes, but sleep wouldn’t come. His magic was as restless as his mind, stretching over Aimim’s house and beyond, tense, ready, searching for any sign of the Asdelarcen or their magic.

They aren’t in Eld’rin, Dilmir told himself. Every attack has been outside in the forest. It must be too dangerous for them here. The Council or Alfimir would probably catch them if they entered the city.

His thoughts didn’t make him feel any better. Eventually, he entered a fitful sleep, his dreams ebbing and flowing with his magic. He woke up several times, convinced his magic had felt something, or that he had heard some sound, but every time there was nothing there.

After what felt like hours, Dilmir woke, and saw that the sky outside was a predawn shade of gray. He got and dressed, feeling drained and exhausted. He could tell this would be a long day.

Aimim was waiting for him with breakfast. Neither of them spoke as they ate. Dilmir had told Aimim what had happened in the forest, and he could tell that she was worried.

“It’s all right, Aunt,” he said. “The Council has forbidden training in the forest until they’re sure it’s safe. We’ll all be out in front of Eld’rin, and there’ll be mages there too, just in case.”

It was true. Dilmir doubted the Council would have taken the threat so seriously if he had been attacked alone, but they couldn’t ignore Erundil. He was a respected elder. Therefore, the forest was being scoured by mages as they spoke, and the Council had commissioned a handful to stand guard while the elves trained.

Aimim nodded at his words, but still looked worried. She kept glancing out of the window, where the early morning mist still covered everything. To be honest, Dilmir wasn’t much reassured either. If he could barely escape the attacks of the Asdelarcen, were Council mages really going to be that much help?

Breakfast was over quickly. Dilmir pulled on the woolen overshirt Aimim offered him, donned a cloak for good measure, and opened the front door. Mist pooled just beyond it, the ground disappearing quickly in a white haze. Everywhere Dilmir looked there was mist. It seemed as if the house was alone in it, isolated, trapped in a field of white uncertainty. Dilmir spread his magic outwards, but felt nothing.

“Be careful,” Aimim said, standing behind him.

“I will be,” Dilmir said. And then, even though his trepidation was again mounting, he stepped out into the mist. Aimim’s house was instantly swallowed up, and Dilmir was left to walk alone, the dense fog silent and unmoving.

Dilmir’s magic told him no one was nearby as he walked, but he still couldn’t keep from sticking to the houses as he passed them, peering around each corner. The mist was thicker than he had ever seen it, a sure sign of snow soon to come. It thinned a bit as he approached the middle of Eld’rin, allowing him to see the Lower Quarter beyond. There the mist was the thickest, hanging over the roots like a silent cloak.

He didn’t have to wait long. Ilrin soon appeared, walking quickly through the mist. She looked almost as tired as Dilmir felt, and he guessed that she hadn’t slept much either.

“Anything?” she asked as she came up.

“Nothing,” Dilmir replied.

Ilrin nodded. “They wouldn’t come here,” she reasoned. “Not into Eld’rin.” It was the same thing Dilmir had told himself. She didn’t sound any more convinced than he had been.

Together, they walked towards the gate, the silent mist finally dissipating as they moved further away from the Lower Quarter. Other elves joined them, also going to training, but they were unusually silent. No one knew what to make of the attacks.

Beyond the gate, it was just as Dilmir had described to Aimim: the field was already full of elves, since the forest was currently unsafe. Council mages, at least ten, ringed the field, standing at regular intervals, watching everything which happened. Dilmir looked to his left, and saw Alfimir there, leaning against a root, watching as well. Dilmir wasn’t sure if that made him feel safer or not.

Dilmir spotted Elmir in their usual depression of grass. Eledim, Ilrin’s trainer, was waiting for her closer to the forest, right next to one of the Council mages.

“Be careful,” he said to Ilrin.

“You too,” she said. Then she left, heading for Eledim.

Elmir wore his usual blank face as Dilmir approached. He seemed perfectly at ease, not concerned in the least with the circumstances. But then, that was how he always looked. Dilmir was fairly sure a dragon could fly overhead and not get much more than a raised eyebrow out of Elmir.

The thought made him smile. At least some things never changed. “Aseleth, Manithar,” he said, entering the bowl.

Elmir nodded in response. “Given recent occurrences,” he said, “I thought it might be advantageous to bypass a few lessons, and start focusing on spells which are a bit more relevant. We’ll start with how to recognize spells designed to cause fire.”

Dilmir smiled again, briefly. He had never thought he’d find Elmir’s unshakeable attitude comforting, but just then, he did. He began listening as Elmir started to explain the appearance of various spells.

As the lesson continued, and no attack came, Dilmir began to relax. He let his magic out, feeling it flow around him. He quickly felt Ilrin and Eledim nearby, but didn’t focus too closely on them. Eledim wouldn’t like that.

Everything seemed to be normal, aside from how crowded the field was, and the presence of the mages. Dilmir stretched his magic towards the forest, but felt nothing there. Maybe the Asdelarcen wouldn’t try anything with so many mages around.

He was wrong. He had just decided that they were safe here, when five spells, shielded and slippery, sped from the forest towards him.

His magic sensed them first, speeding through the trees in a low arc, descending rapidly towards where he and Elmir stood. He spun on the spot, and was just able to see them, barely visible against the weak sunlight, streaking down towards him. They were all different colors, clearly all designed to do different things. The Asdelarcen had changed their attack again.

Dilmir didn’t even bother trying to affect the spells. He plunged his magic into the ground, quickly found a root, and sent it skyward, causing it to sprout a lattice of vines in the path of the spells. But even as he did so, he remembered it probably wouldn’t work. The Asdelarcen kept adapting to everything he did, and he had already blocked one of their spells in a similar fashion.

Sure enough, the five spells swerved around the lattice as if they could see it, met on the other side, and continued their downward trajectory. Spells couldn’t do that – react in midair. Could they? Dilmir wasn’t sure. He was out of options, and had no time to react further.

The five spells arrived. Two seemed to explode in the air, a few feet away from Dilmir. One flew into the ground a short distance away, and another struck the grass practically at Dilmir’s feet. Dilmir looked at the spot doubtfully. Spells didn’t just miss like that.

He had forgotten about the fifth spell. It was slower than the others, but he heard it coming, a rushing of wind announcing its presence. He looked up just in time for it to slam head-on into his chest.

Dilmir’s shield absorbed it. He looked at the spot where the spell had dissipated, countered perfectly by one of Endir’s endless suggestions. It had actually worked.

A moment later, he realized that the spell had been designed to distract him while the other four spells did their work. The two which had seemed to explode in midair had now enchanted the air around Dilmir and Elmir – something Dilmir was vaguely aware of as being something only he and Eltuthar, and those they had taught, knew how to do. Dilmir was now encased in a hemisphere of magic, shielded like the spells. He instantly guessed that teleporting out wasn’t an option.

The spell which had struck the ground a ways away had pulled several roots from the earth. They now sprung up all along the edge of the bowl Dilmir and Elmir were in, curving upwards until they met in the middle, forming a spherical cage. They quickly wove themselves together, blocking off Dilmir’s view of the rest of the field. Thorns, thick as Dilmir’s arm, sprouted along the inside of the roots, and then the entire cage began to contract quickly, growing smaller and smaller. These roots, too, were shielded, unable to be touched by Dilmir’s magic.

The final spell, which had struck the grass near Dilmir, seemed to be the most deadly. As he watched the roots constricting together, wondering how he could possibly get out, a thick white smoke began to rise from the ground, from the very grass itself. This was no innocent white mist. It covered Dilmir’s feet quickly, and his skin began to burn and blister. Poison. He stretched his magic forward, and found that the grass, too, was shielded.

This was it then. Dilmir was completely enclosed in a sphere of magic he could neither control nor breach. If the poison didn’t get him, then presumably the thorns would. His new shield was designed to thwart things like magic and fire, but against a physical attack, like being skewered by a thorn, there was little he could do. Magic didn’t work against things like that. Maybe it could protect him for a few seconds, but it couldn’t stop the thorns indefinitely. The poison though…

“Keliess as asin arewn silin im il! Edel nolun sudern ethen imis!” Dilmir said, directing his magic at his own shield. Instantly, the burning sensation in his feet vanished. He might not be able to do much, but he could at least filter the poison from the air before it reached him. He turned, and cast the same spell on Elmir.

“Any ideas?” he asked the old elf. “I can’t enchant anything: the grass, the roots; it’s all shielded.” The thorns drew closer.

“If you can’t do anything,” Elmir replied, “then I doubt I can.” His voice was still somehow miraculously calm. Despite his words, he turned, and began casting spells at the roots. They all dissipated against the wood.

Dilmir turned as well, flinging his magic at the approaching roots, but there was nothing he could do. His magic slipped and slid over them, unable to get through whatever shield the Asdelarcen had conjured.

They continued to back up as the roots drew closer, until they were back-to-back. The roots were almost upon them, the thorns pressed up against them, the poisonous fog – not a threat any longer but still thick – up over their heads, blinding them to all else.

There was nothing they could do. Dilmir’s magic was getting further and further constricted, lashing out repeatedly at the roots but unable to touch them. How could the Asdelarcen do this, if they were Cursed? He was Uncursed. He was supposed to be more powerful than this.

The roots squeezed tighter. Dilmir and Elmir shifted, trying to get between the thorns, but they were running out of room. One sharp point snagged Dilmir’s woolen overshirt. Another was slowly tearing his cloak. The roots were nearly crushing them now, the wood only a few inches from their faces. Dilmir put his hands on the closest root, trying ineffectually to keep it from him.

His magic flooded into the root, able to reach it at last. Dilmir pulled his hand away in shock, and the connection was severed.

Dilmir only hesitated for a second. Then he placed both hands back on the root. There it was, the magic of the root, just waiting to be controlled. How he could suddenly control the root by touching it, Dilmir couldn’t even begin to guess, but there was no time to wonder. He quickly flooded the root with his magic, and stopped it from constricting. Slowly, the roots began to ease up, giving him and Elmir room to move.

Dilmir didn’t know what had just happened, but just now, he didn’t care. He knelt down and placed his hand on the grass. Again, he seemed to go right through whatever barrier the Asdelarcen had created, his magic flooding into the grass and stopping it from creating more of the poisonous fog.

Somehow, someway, Dilmir had discovered a weakness the Asdelarcen had missed. He placed his hand again on the roots surrounding them, felt his magic flood into them, and blasted them apart.

Pale sunlight struck them, along with sound, both of which had been blocked by the roots. Dilmir quickly saw that the Council mages, as well as Alfimir, were nearby. He guessed they had been unable to stop the roots. Ilrin also was near; she let out a wordless cry when she saw Dilmir, and ran towards him. Many elves had gathered, most probably unsure what had caused the roots.

But Dilmir didn’t immediately notice any of them. He stepped from the roots, and flung his magic towards the forest, stretching it as far as it would go. The Asdelarcen weren’t going to get away this time.

Five spells had been cast at Dilmir, but he was only able to find three elves, shielded in slippery magic, backing away, further in the forest. Remembering their own spells, Dilmir flooded his magic into the ground just behind them, and caused the twigs and dead leaves to begin to emit a cloud of paralyzing poison. He waited until the Asdelarcen realized what was going on, and then swept his magic forwards, causing the cloud of poison to move with it. The Asdelarcen were trapped, and being flushed out of the forest like a fox smoked out of its den. They had no choice but to run right towards Dilmir.

They crashed out of the forest a moment later, choking on what little of the poison they had inhaled, their cloaks torn with the haste of their flight.

The assembled elves backed away as they appeared, unsure who they were, but startled by their appearance. Alfimir looked at the Asdelarcen, and then at Dilmir, questioningly.

“These are the ones responsible,” Dilmir said to Alfimir, keeping his eyes fixed on the Asdelarcen.

As if to prove his words true, the Asdelarcen straightened, saw Dilmir, and collectively raised their palms and fired three separate spells at him.

They were only a few feet away, meaning Dilmir didn’t have time to block them. Fortunately, he didn’t need to. Elmir had come up from behind Dilmir, and both he and Alfimir raised their palms and cast a spell without a moment of hesitation. The two spells collided with two of the Asdelarcen’s spells, negating each other in a shower of energy and sparks. Perfect counterspells. That left one spell, speeding towards Dilmir. It struck his shield, and faded harmlessly into nothingness.  

Dilmir looked up from where the spell had struck, and saw the Asdelarcen standing there, watching him. They seemed to realize what was coming next.

In an instant, Dilmir had sent roots upwards from the ground, surrounding the Asdelarcen. They turned to flee, but the roots pounced, toppling them to the ground, and then binding them there, holding them secure. They were helpless, surrounded by elves. There would be no escape this time.

Alfimir approached the Asdelarcen warily, along with several Council mages. Dilmir watched as they knelt down, and began to question them. They had attacked an elf, a citizen of Eld’rin, and for that, they would be held by the Council, and questioned until they had nothing left to hide.

But that wasn’t what was on Dilmir’s mind. He might have beaten these three, but there had been five spells which flew out of the forest. Five Asdelarcen. Every time they attacked, their numbers seemed to increase, and their methods grew more and more deadly. Dilmir might have escaped again, and this time he seemed to have an edge, but he doubted very much the Asdelarcen were finished with him. They would keep coming, keep attacking.

What would come next? And would Dilmir be able to escape it again?