Tera’s Revenge

“The exile… she returns!” It was the anxious yet unmistakable voice of the young elf, Aluin, who called upon the rest of the council from the base of the Great Oaktree of Vlalea.

His call was greeted by another young elf whose sharp green eyes and shoulder-length brown hair were the unmistakable hallmark of Lamilith. She peered over her branch, which was high upon the summit of the tree, only to behold the flustered Aluin who was pacing about the inferior quarters.

“It is Aluin!” she cried, addressing others behind her. “Ready yourself, brother!” And she hurled a sizable vine towards him, which he grasped tightly with both hands.

The Great Oaktree was no mere tree. It was the heart of the forest, gifted to the wood-elves of Letheas by the Gods themselves. The souls of all living things great and small were bound to it, so long as they called Letheas their home, and their safety was thus entrusted to the great druids who resided there. Elders, they were called, of which there had been six. For age upon age, they were blessed to call the tree their home, for indeed a magnificent home it was. It stood as mighty as any castle would, fortified with a mystic oak which, as the legend told, was unbreakable. This, in place of stone and iron, of which castles of men were normally comprised. Not many men had known of its existence, but those who had once laid eyes upon it had revered it immensely, and talked of it only in hushed whispers of legend.

The return of Aluin was a bittersweet affair, for he had once accompanied an older druid, Oreyn, on a perilous journey designed to seek out and apprehend an elven exile who was rumoured to have escaped confinement. Yet, Aluin returned alone, and the worry in his eyes was a sign of more trouble to come. He scaled the great tree with exceptional haste, landing directly upon the podium of the uppermost section of the Oaktree. It was a round platform which gave rise to six large, separate branches, all of which were fashioned into seats of green leaves and soft, cushioned wood. Only four of these seats were occupied by their masters, and they looked upon Aluin with a mixture of bewilderment and worry.

Aluin bent over in an attempt to catch his breath, though his eyes were fixed upon the four druids before him, and he eyed them with some apprehension. They, in turn, kept silent whilst sitting imperiously upon their respective branches. One among them, however, could bare the silence no longer. “What of Oreyn?” Lamilith cried out impatiently. “You followed him to Saraven, yet you have returned… alone!” She emphasised her final word.

“He has fallen, Lamilith!” said Aluin, in between gasps. “The exile… she… she…” His face twisted as if he wanted to describe every single detail relating to the journey, though in that moment, words would escape him no longer.

A cascade of hushed murmurs broke out among the remaining council members, whose nerves were seemingly worsening as more time went by. Though, it was not until the eldest among them had stood and stamped his long, oaken staff upon his respective branch, that silence filled the air once more.

Down came the eldest among them, the Arch-druid who they all knew as Sephir. He was a tall, gaunt and eternally sullen elf with corkscrew-like locks of grey hair and a long, frizzled beard to match. He descended towards the centre of the council floor, coming to a halt beside Aluin.

“The power of the great tree is waning,” he said. “We were foolish to think Oreyn would hamper her advance on the sole basis of him being her brother. A direct connection to the great oak has now been severed. As a result, our command of the forest has now become… unbalanced.”

“I have felt it too, master,” spoke a pale, cloaked elf who sat on the eastern branch. “Is there…” she gulped, “is there any possibility that Tera, the exile, may have stolen her brother’s connection? Has she the power to do so?”

Sephir leaned upon his staff. “I hadn’t thought it possible,” he said, “my underestimation proves to be yet another careless mistake made by an old elf.”

“We should have killed her when we had the chance,” lamented Lamilith. “Exile… bah! Once a murderer, always a murderer!” she shouted, though in her anger she dared not face Sephir, even though she felt his gaze pierce through her from beneath his untidy robes.

The elder’s gaze turned to Lamilith, who was still directing her scowl to the floor as if she were a child who had just realised that she spoke out of line.

“We are protectors of the forest, Lamilith, not executioners,” he said with an air of authority. “But of course, you are right. It would seem that our punishment only served to fuel her with an unwavering hatred. A hatred which will undoubtedly come to haunt us in the days to come.” He considered for a moment. “None of us can deny that this is a threat which we must deal with sooner, rather than later, lest we risk severing our connection to the great Oak… forever.”

The druids exchanged brief, yet uncomfortable looks between each other.

“If we stand together, our combined power may be enough to overwhelm her,” said Aluin.

“We will do no such thing,” said Sephir. “The responsibility is mine and mine alone. I will stand against the exile, myself.”

Aluin looked upon the elder as if he had just uttered a bad joke. “Arch-druid, surely…” though his attempt to sway the elder was quickly subdued by a swift wave of Sephir’s wrinkled hand.

“I will say nothing more on the matter, Aluin. You, Lamilith, Coren and Sybill will remain here and guard the great Oak, with your lives if need be. I shall establish the whereabouts of the exile and seek her out by nightfall.”

“As… as you wish, Arch-druid. Though would you not consider allowing at least one of us…”

Sephir once again held his hand up indignantly, silencing Aluin a second time.

The elders adjourned their assembly that afternoon, with Sephir retreating to his quarters - a humble compartment within one of the tree’s oversized limbs. There he remained, until come nightfall, he graced the platform of the summit once again. He was greeted by a comforting silence and a warm luminous radiance born of a full moon’s glow and a series of twinkling lights. They emanated from the smaller trees of the forest - dwellings of the elves of the citadel. No noise whatsoever would disrupt him, save the gentle sounds of the soft breeze which touched him, and the chirping of birds as they settled down for the night.

Sephir knelt and placed his hand in the precise middle of the circular platform of the summit floor, upon which there was etched a glowing rune which shined brighter as soon as he touched it. His breath slowed, his eyes shut and in that very moment, he was suddenly lost to the world. He was now one with the great Oak, and the tree gifted him the life of all living things in the forest of Letheas.

Before him, there suddenly appeared five smoky, silvery threads. Four of which, had led to four corresponding limbs of the great Oak itself. The other, however, extended further outward and farther into the deep woods. ‘Tera’, he thought in silence, ‘where are you?’

Sephir had awoken to a world of shadow, a world where the forest he had so well known had all but lost its grandeur. No more were the trees green, nor were the sounds of animals heard. The woodland had become a pale reflection of what it once was, devoid of all colour save the silvery rope which lead to a grassy clearing to the far east. He grasped the rope and held it firmly, an act which sent a series of painful, lightning-like impulses coursing through his body. It lasted no more than a few seconds.

His eyes opened once more, though he was no longer looking upon the branches of the Great Oak, nor at the twinkling lights at the base of the tree. He was now looking at a meadow of tall, unkempt grass… and from afar, a sole wanderer could be seen trudging along the sward. She was lightly armoured, in leather, and armed with a great bow which she held aloft whilst manoeuvring her way through the grass. Sephir looked closer, until he was finally able to see the grey in her eyes and a head of brazenly cut black hair, as if it were done so with her own dagger. Her face was gaunt and there were black circles under her eyes. She had seemingly travelled the road for long, yet carried herself in a defiant manner. It was all Sephir needed to see.

‘Ah…’ he thought to himself. ‘There you are.”

***

A whole day had come and gone since the moment Tera departed from the cold, desolate ruins of Saraven, whose hollow halls of broken stone had by that point, already become a distant memory lurking in the corner of her mind. There was no guarantee that the course she had set out upon was indeed the right one, for the directional advice given to her by a dying man may not have been considered the most reliable. Regardless, the further she went, the stronger became this unexplainable feeling of warmth in her chest. Perhaps it did mean that she was drawing nearer to the great Oak, after all. With that, retribution was soon to follow. Yet, revenge would have to wait another day, for night had come.

Her feet took her to a narrow crevice which concealed itself under a den of fallen trees. “Not much, but it’ll have to do”, she said half-heartedly, and she proceeded to descend into the shallow trench and onto a bed of moistened soil. Not that she minded in any way, for she had become well accustomed to the dour conditions which came part-and-parcel with venturing abroad. There was no doubt in her having required rest, having not entirely recovered from battle and the day’s march thereafter. If that were not enough, there was the promise of bloodshed the very next day, which would require her to be at her brilliant best. With that in mind, she lay down and gazed upon the sky, keeping to her thoughts in silence until sleep would finally take her.

Tera’s appreciation of the scene before her, however, was suddenly interrupted by the most unlikely of creatures. A crow, whose descent came to an abrupt halt by the edge of the crevice. It sat there, its black eye upon her in a manner which was rather peculiar. The bird’s head did not sift from left to right and right to left, as one would normally see in most birds, but rather, stared directly at her, disturbingly.

She rose and crept towards the creature, eyeing it precariously as it were, her. She stretched out her arm, extending her hand towards the crow, who still refused to stir in her wake.

Then, the creature spoke.

“You are not welcome here,” it said in a stentorian tone. “Flee, exile, lest death come to you.”

Tera was taken aback for a fleeting moment, though regained her composure almost immediately. “Death?” she said with a sardonic smile, “you know that I have already suffered more grievous a fate than death. Imprisonment… enslavement… torture… must I go on?”

The crow did not answer, instead maintaining its firm, disturbing gaze.

Tera pulled her cloak over her, turning her back towards the creature and making as if to walk away. Though in the split of a second, she turned back and hurled a dagger towards it. The knife coursed through the air and struck its mark with a loud thump which knocked the bird off of its ledge, leaving only a few black feathers in its stead which fell in a to-and-fro motion down into the crevice.

“You may hold sway over the animals in Letheas, Sephir, though not upon me,” she spat.

In her rage, Tera had lost all but lost the desire she once had to rest, her fatigue now overshadowed by the blinding rage that stemmed from the fact that she no longer had the element of surprise on her side. It was of no wonder why Oreyn was so quick to impart upon her, his knowledge on the otherwise secret location of the great Oak. What he had not told her, was how through it, Sephir was able to control the forest and all living things within it. He was now everywhere and nowhere. To make matters worse, he had come to know her exact location. That much was known.

What Tera had not known, however, was that things were about to become far worse for her.

More crows swooped down upon the crevice ledge. First two, then three, then in a moment’s notice they were joined by other birds, insects and even land-animals such as foxes and deer. Each looked down upon her with the same uncomforting look, amid an orchestra of noise brought about by having each animal wail and shout their way into the crevice.

The creatures invaded the ditch, forcing Tera backwards until her backside reached a dead end. The noise had become so strong, that she could not help but cover her ears with both hands, watching as the creatures poised themselves to attack.

That was when she heard it.

A large thud reverberated in the distance. Then came another.

And another.

They were footsteps, and they were getting louder and louder, until they were eventually followed by the unmistakable roar of a bear.

Without a second’s thought, Tera leapt out of the ditch, vaulting from wall to wall until she was able to break free from the ambush. To her sheer dismay, she appeared before the enormous, black bear, who made itself look even larger by standing upon its hind legs. It stood before her, roaring maliciously and brandishing a set of razor-like claws and sharp, yellowed fangs, of which were about the size of Tera’s fingers. It fell on all-fours once more and from the look in its eyes, Tera knew that there was only one thing she could do.

She ran.

Tera ran with as much speed as she could muster, which for a woodland elf was already quite substantial. Even so, she dared not risk a look over her shoulder, for the thunderous stride of the best behind her did not seem to lesson. In fact, it was quite the contrary.

The pursuit had extended to well over an hour before Tera, who was far lighter of foot and more agile, manged to evade the beast. The subtle sight of a muddy hill in the distance caught her eye and she made her way there. In her haste, she leapt and slid down the hill, eventually coming onto a bed of soft grass in the middle of what seemed like… nowhere.

There were tall trees all around her, absent even the faintest of paths which would have, at the very least, provided an inkling of an idea as to where to go next. In addition, the forest was now devoid of all light save from that offered by the moon, which illuminated the shadows with an eerie tinge of blue. It had all suddenly gone quiet, save the distant, muddled breathing sounds of the bear as it skulked around the trees, undoubtedly attempting to retrieve her scent. There were also ghostly whispers emanating from the deep wood, all of which only served to make Tera’s situation all-the-more unnerving. Flocks of crows flew over the trees above her, spies who served the ever-watchful Sephir.

There was no way out. She would have to make her stand there and now.

Tera drew her bow, noting the increasing volume of the bear’s breathing amid the crescendo of footsteps which trailed behind as the large beast descended the muddy hill she had previously trodden upon. Not before long, it was in her sight once again.

Tera loaded an arrow and channelled all of her remaining strength into the firing of a single, fatal shot. It was harder than she thought, owing to the persistent tremor in her arms which was born of a mixture of fear and fatigue. Hardened by an iron-like resolve, she refused to succumb to any temptation which begged her to turn and flee. Instead she waited, patiently and in silence, until her foe finally walked straight into her view. She took a deep breath, stretched the string of her bow as far as she could...

…And fired.