This is the completed version of the story.
Glismera whispered a quick word to her steed, and he came to a halt. Lilinstraee pulled up beside her, the cold wind tousling her long brown hair.
“What is it?” the ranger asked.
Glismera scanned the trees before her. Their shadows were long and disquieting, and even for the eyes of elves, the darkness was nearly impossible to penetrate. Within those shadows, however, Glismera sensed an eldritch presence, one that unnerved her, one that made her fingers itch for her sword.
“Your scouts were right,” Glismera said. “There’s something foul here.”
Glismera dismounted her horse. Her moon-silver hair billowed about her pale face as another gust assaulted them, carrying with it the scent of leaf mold and the sweet, pungent aroma of decay. The ceiling of branches was dark, and only a slim amount of moonlight was able to creep in.
Lilinstraee also dismounted. “Tima and Rai were concerned when they saw the lights a few days ago. They could tell they were magical, and we knew we had to summon you.” She glanced sideways at the dark elf. “Your legend among the Scarlet Crescent knows no bounds.”
Glismera smirked. She wanted to tell Lilinstraee that her powers had been greatly exaggerated. But this was a chance to show her worth. A member of the Scarlet Crescent had been summoned because of speculation of magical energies, and she owed the female wood elf a favor. The sooner this was done, the better. Also, she knew her mistress would want to be aware of what was happening in Geo’Lora.
“We leave the horses here,” Glismera said. She drew her blade. “Be on your guard.”
Lilinstraee nodded, drawing her twin swords. They glowed with green, ethereal light in the darkness of the wood. The two elves stepped through the trees as silent as shadows, their dark clothes allowing them to blend into the surrounding gloom. Glismera extended her magic, feeling for any sort of disturbance, any malevolence. Yes, the foulness of the magic was palpable in the air. Gooseflesh crept across her skin; a chill kissed the back of her neck. Something was near, and it was very, very evil.
When they emerged on the other side of the trees, they saw it. Crumbling ruins of a once great castle, trees twisting out of its cracked, fallen walls like worms out of a corpse. The shadows seemed to flicker with malevolence as they beheld it.
“What sort of place is this?” Lilinstraee whispered.
“A place of memory and darkness,” replied Glismera. “Of sorrows, and tales forgotten.”
She reached out. Her magic gingerly touched the borders of the castle, like a tongue at an infected tooth. Glismera prodded and examined, trying to understand the puzzle before her. Yes, evil was here. Darkness. Things she had tasted before. But there was something else…something…
“Glismera!”
Glismera broke from her trance and whirled around. A large shape shot out of the darkness, yellow eyes flaring. Green flashed in elegant cuts, and there was the splash of blood. Glismera leaped back as the shape crashed to the ground in a heap, Lilinstraee standing over it with her swords glowing.
“A werewolf,” the wood elf spat, looking down at the corpse in disdain. The beast’s maw was open in a snarl, and blood poured from lacerations left by Linistraee’s blades. Glismera stared at the creature in disbelief. She hadn’t even sensed its presence.
“Thank you,” Glismera said. “How did you notice it?”
Lilinstraee smiled. “Rangers of Kooja are trained to spot monsters in the dark.”
Glismera returned the smile. That’s the second time she’s saved my skin. If she keeps this up, I’ll never be able to repay the blood debt.
“My magic has examined the castle. Whatever is inside is not just evil; it’s ancient.”
“Do you think it has anything to do with the werewolf?” Lilinstraee asked.
“A lookout, a guardian. However, I feel whatever is inside these ruins is something far more dangerous than this mere lycanthrope.”
“Then perhaps we need to get reinforcements and return.”
“No!” Glismera licked her lips. “I’m sorry, Lilinstraee. I did not mean to snap. But we must take care of this.” She turned back to the castle. “We cannot allow this evil to endure.” She whispered a spell, and pale blue fire wreathed the blade of her sword. Her scarlet crescent pendant glimmered in the arcane firelight.
Glismera spoke with conviction. “Whatever is in there, we must destroy it.”
***
The Shade watched from one of the towers of the ruins. The lights of the two elves’ swords, blue and green in the dimness of the dark forest, were like piercing stars. He thought them brave to approach in this way. He did not think them foolish–the unae were not a race of fools. No, these two women were very bold.
They certainly had dealt with one of his servants quite easily. Usually, when a wayward wanderer or adventurer stumbled upon the Shade’s dwelling, the werewolf was easily able to dispatch it with a few bites and tears. But every century or so, there would be someone with enough skill to kill the lycanthrope. Then the Shade would have to go about finding a new one; a nuisance, really.
The Shade knew visitors would be coming soon. It was a Celedur Moon, a phase that occurred once every hundred years, when his magic on the ruins of the elven castle grew weak. Often times, the weakening of his magic resulted in sparks and small fires, giving off light into the trees. He wasn’t surprised that someone had seen the lights. But he had been in these ruins for a thousand years, and he had no intention of letting a couple of curious she-elves interfere with him.
The elves were climbing the steps to the ruins, first the pale one, then the dark-haired one. The Shade smiled, and faded into the shadows.
***
Glismera’s magical flame repelled the shadows, revealing details of the ruins. Lettering and motifs in the architecture revealed the ruins as a once great elven castle. Perhaps a dwelling of Tahma, the Star Court, before it was destroyed by the Black Rift. It saddened Glismera to see that a structure of her kin had fallen into ruins. Decay and destruction were not becoming of the elven race.
Lilinstraee shared her companion’s unspoken sentiments. “Thousands of years ago, our brothers and sisters flourished here,” she said. “Now it is a place of evil and dark magic.” She took in all of the ruins. “Lep ota.”
Glismera said nothing. The dark magic was more present now, heavy in the air. Her eyes flickered left and right, taking in each and every shadow. At any moment, she expected the source of the magic to come out and face them. But what was the source? A warlock or dark wizard? A foul fae creature?
Her foot sent something clattering. In the pale blue light of her flaming sword, she saw it was a skull. As she moved her blade about like a torch, she saw more of them, with a host of other bones.
No!
“Lilinstraee!”
“I see them, Glismera!”
The two elves brought their swords into guarded positions as the bones knitted together into complete skeletons that rose as if they were puppets on strings. Around them flared dark purple aura that took on the shape of armor, as well as weapons such as swords and axes. At least ten stood before them, and their eyes glowed pale violet.
Glismera gripped her sword tightly. “Come and taste steel and flame, if you dare.” She leaped forward and swung out with her sword, cutting into one of the skeletons. The undead thing caught flame and collapsed into a pile of bone and ash. Glismera parried a strike from one of the skeleton’s axes and sliced off its head in response.
Lilinstraee was quick and lithe as a panther. She weaved her way through the skeletons, her swords flashing in and out, cutting foes down like stalks of wheat to a scythe. Her green-lit swords pierced through the arcane armor with ease, the skeletons collapsing one by one, their bones rattling like scattered dice.
Within moments, Glismera and Lilinstraee had cleared the courtyard of the abominations. Lilinstraee was still tense, her dark emerald eyes watching the shadows. “Where is this necromancer?”
Glismera pointed. “There you have him.”
From a globe of unnatural darkness emerged a figure. The Shade was deathly pale, with sharp cheek bones and short-cropped black hair. He was dressed in dark, fitted armor, a sword hanging at his side. He smiled.
“Two lovely visitors.” His voice was cold and smooth. “Too bad they are unwanted.”
The power emitting from the man was startling. Sweat ran over Glismera’s skin. The flames engulfing her sword flickered and threatened to go out. She willed the flames to burn brighter. She’d need every tool at her disposal for this foe.
“Who are you?” Glismera said evenly.
“My name is of no use to you,” the Shade said. “You won’t be alive long enough to even repeat it.”
“Anaparo!” With a swing of her sword, Glismera sent waves of blue fire raging towards the Shade. The fires swallowed him, but Glismera wasn’t so hopeful as to believe that had been enough to finish him.
“Lilinstraee, stay close! He will appear where you least expect it.”
“Too late.”
Glismera turned in surprise to see the Shade rising up from a swath of darkness that separated the two elves. In his hand was his sword, three rubies glinting in the handguard, a jet black stone set in its pommel.
The blade came at Glismera with blinding speed. She blocked the blow as the Shade pointed a finger at Lilinstraee and spoke an incantation. A bolt of crimson lightning shot at the ranger, who threw herself out of the way, flipping through the air and landing lightly. Lilinstraee shot at the Shade, striking with her swords.
The Shade broke engagement with Glismera and maneuvered Lilinstraee’s swords with his own blade. Her and the Shade’s swords all locked together.
“Vienaetrae.”
Lilinstraee cried out as the hilts of her swords flared red-hot and she dropped them, her hands seared. The Shade went for a high blow aimed for the elf’s head, one that would split it in half.
“Torja!” Glismera cried out her spell with a raised hand. An invisible force sent the Shade flying many yards. But he righted himself quickly, brandishing his blade for another attack.
Glismera wasted no time, striking at him with quick blows that would have killed most opponents within a few seconds. But the Shade was skilled at both magic and swordcraft, and he deflected each blow, returning with his own deadly strikes. A deadly dance took place between the Shade and the dark elf, their swords glancing off each other with peals of ringing metal.
Lilinstraee watched for the briefest moment entranced. She knew Glismera’s skill with a blade far outmatched many of the Scarlet Crescent, but she in all her years had never seen a practitioner of the sword–man or woman–with as much prowess as Glismera possessed. When a strike from the Shade almost found its mark, however, she shook herself from her distraction. Ignoring the pain in her hands, she picked up her swords, their hilts having now cooled from the instantaneous spell and joined Glismera in her battle.
Three blades, shining with magic, went against the Shade. He had been faring well against the pale elf, but now with two against him, he was finding himself at a disadvantage. It had been many centuries since he had faced such prowess, and for the briefest moment he was at a loss of what to do.
But that moment did not last long.
All four of their blades clashed and locked. Glismera prepared to use a spell to send a spike of ice through the Shade’s head, but a gleam in his eyes made her hesitate.
“Now you both die,” he whispered.
His body broke apart into ribbons of shadow, flitting about Glismera and Lilinstraee like dark beings.
The two women screamed in agony. Neither of them had seen this coming. The dark swaths filled their bodies with cold that was completely overwhelming and numbing.
It’s so cold it burns, Glismera thought, gritting her teeth.
She collapsed to the ground, her sword falling from her hand. She popped open one eye to see Lilinstraee also on the ground. She gave great, gasping screams, her weapons discarded, hugging herself close. The darkness continued to swirl around them, their vision going dark.
We’ve come to our deaths, Glismera thought in dismay. It’s over.
Just as the darkness and cold were swallowing her whole, a bright light blazed forth. The Shade’s ribbons of darkness evaporated before Glismera’s eyes against the blazing glow, his screams mixed with curses. Glismera squeezed her eyes shut as the warmth and glare of the light engulfed her.
Then it was gone.
She opened her eyes. Darkness had returned to the courtyard. Lilinstraee laid on her side, unconscious, but still alive. Glismera swallowed gulps of air, scarcely believing it.
She looked around for the source of the light. Who or what had done that? What had killed the Shade?
Then her heart dropped as she saw who it had been.
A dark elf strode forth, her skin pale like Glismera’s, her face hard with stern lines. Her sword shined in her hand, a blood-red crescent moon hanging around her neck.
“Glismera,” her mother said. “You foolish child.”
***
Morning light burned on the horizon as Rasrael led Glismera and Lilinstraee out of the forest. It had taken them the night to recuperate from their fight with the Shade, and to find themselves out of the trees. Upon their exit, Rasrael turned her black horse to look at the two of them.
“Lilinstraee,” she said. “Return to the rangers and tell them that the threat has been dealt with. If you need our aid again, do not come to my daughter. See me or one of the other masters.”
Glismera’s cheeks burned with anger. The unspoken statement hung in the air. Do not come to Glismera for help–she is too weak.
Lilinstraee bowed her head to Rasrael, giving a side glance to Glismera. “As you wish. Thank you for your assistance. If not for–”
“You may go now,” Rasrael interrupted. “Glismera and I must return to the Order.”
Lilinstraee sealed her lips. Without another word, she turned her horse and galloped south.
Glismera watched her friend ride, not daring to look at her mother. If she did, words would escape her that she’d regret.
“Come.” Rasrael turned her horse and started heading north. Glismera followed. The forest stayed on their right for some hours before they turned slightly west. They did not speak for a long time.
When they stopped for a rest, Rasrael fixed her daughter with her cold, steely gaze. “You will always be an acolyte if you continue to disobey the rules of the Scarlet Crescent.”
Glismera knew that had been coming. “I will always be an acolyte if you continue to treat me as a child,” she retorted.
“You act like a child,” Rasrael said with a chilling glare. “Therefore I treat you as one. You are always so eager to solve problems with your sword, a sword whose power you haven’t mastered yet. How can you hope to be a taiven like this? You will either end up dead or expelled from the Order.”
Glismera’s hand went to the hilt of her blade. The blade whose name she hadn’t even learned yet. If only she could unlock its power.
Rasrael sighed. “You are skilled in swordcraft, and you are powerful in magic. But you are no more than a magician with a blade. Until you master your weapon, you will not ascend within the ranks of the Scarlet Crescent. Do you understand?”
Glismera looked at her mother. A master taiven, one of the head seats of the Order. The shadow she cast was long, and it seemed to do nothing but cloud her future.
Glismera sighed. “Yes.”
They finished their rest, and continued homeward. Glismera watched Rasrael’s back as they traveled.
She gritted her teeth.
She would cast aside her mother’s shadow. She’d be her own master.