The dimness of the clearing was lightened as their clashing blades sent searing blue-white light shimmering into the air. The crown of the skeletal king seemed to absorb the light as soon as it flashed, though not quickly enough to prevent those who looked toward the fighters from being momentarily blinded.
Suddenly another light flashed across the clearing. A red lighting bolt rushed out from the desiccated hand of a magic-user and struck at the base of a tree. There, two of Single-Fang’s goblins were attempting to hold off six undead members of their own scaly race. All eight died in a flash of fire.
Another goblin, smaller than the others, climbed into one of the trees, hoping for safety. Cald spared it a quick glance. In its fear, the humanoid had confused the trees; it had sheltered in one of the trees from the Shadow World.
A halfling, trying to escape the destruction, dashed out into the center of the clearing and ran blindly into Eyrmin, tripping the elf prince. Eyrmin fell over backward. The blow dislodged his grip on his sword. The king from the Shadow World leapt forward, his blade raised, but Eyrmin rolled quickly to the side and kept on rolling as his foe slashed at the empty spaces where the prince had been only moments before.
When the skeletal warrior attempted to anticipate the elf’s movements, Eyrmin reversed his roll and whipped to his feet. He grabbed the sword arm of the king and wrenched the evil blade from him in a surprise move. The prince held the blade in his left hand, but with a lightning backhand stroke, he cut through the impossibly thin neck of the king from the Shadow World. The lich-lord’s head fell to the ground, and the terrifying crown rolled across the soil.
Across the clearing, the magic-user drew back his hand to cast another lighting bolt, and Cald, realizing the mage was directing his spell toward Eyrmin, sent an arrow into the twisted man’s arm. He was too late to stop the spell, though, and the lightning bolt flew up to strike a massive tree. An enormous limb broke away. Cald shouted, but not in time to warn Eyrmin. A heavy branch struck the elf prince, and he fell to the ground.
An armored skeletal warrior from the Shadow World had been trading blows with Dralansen, but when the lich-lord fell, it broke off the fight and dashed forward. It grabbed the crown and put it on its own head. Then, drawing back, it raised its head and shouted. The words were uncouth and unknown to the elves, but the tone was triumphant. It waded into the heavy foliage of broken limb as if searching for something.
Two warriors from the Shadow World followed it, but chasing them were two of Single-Fang’s goblins. One of the undead raised its sword to strike the unconscious prince, but the first goblin rammed its spear through the fighter he had been chasing.
Suddenly a fierce wind blew across the clearing. Dead black leaves flew up into the air. The limbs of the shadowy trees tossed in the wind, but the trees rooted in the Muirien Grove were untouched by the strange gale.
On the opposite side of the battlefield, the fight faltered. The clothing of the twisted creatures of the Shadow World whipped around them in the gale. The elves, Cald, and the two remaining goblins felt no breeze at all. The halflings shouted warnings to each other and fled in all directions. They soon disappeared into the forest on the eastern side of the grove.
The undead warrior who had picked up the crown and was searching desperately beneath the thick leaves of the fallen limb, gave a scream of frustration before it was sucked back into its own plane.
As quickly as they had appeared, the shadow trees were gone and the ancient monarchs of the Muirien Grove stood alone. Moments before, the clearing had been littered with bodies of the dead, but these were swept away with the closing of the portal. The small goblin who had climbed into the tree from the Shadow World had also disappeared.
The elves blinked and looked around uneasily. All their faces seemed to reflect the same thought. Had they imagined what had occurred? They had begun a fight with a score of goblins. Now only two remained. One lay sprawled on the ground, stunned or dead. The other stood by the thick, broken limb of the tree and looked as confused as the elves.
Malala came out of her puzzled, trancelike state first and hurried to kneel by Eyrmin, who had not moved since he had been struck down by the tree limb. Dralansen grabbed the bow he had dropped, fitted an arrow to the string, and drew a bead on the goblin that stood close to the unconscious Eyrmin.
Cald dashed out of his hiding place. “No, you can’t kill him. He saved the prince’s life.”
“It’s true,” Malala raised her head to agree with the human boy. “Our prince lives; he is only stunned. He would have died at the point of a sword save for this goblin. This places a grave obligation on us.”
The humanoid had tentatively raised his spear but lowered it when he realized the elves were not planning to kill him. He walked over to the base of a tree where the only remaining member of his band lay sprawled on the ground.
“Bersmog! You dead?” he shouted, loudly enough to be heard across half the Sielwode.
Bersmog groaned and rolled over, looking up at his companion and Saelvam, who stood nearby, still holding his sword. The goblin seemed to see the elf first.
“I think maybe.”
“I’ll not kill you, goblin,” Saelvam said, sheathing his weapon. “I saw you save the life of Relcan, who is of the royal kindred.” he gazed at Relcan, who had crossed the clearing to help his prince to his feet. “If we are under obligation to one of the creatures for saving the prince’s life, is it not the same for you? You are also of the royal kindred.”
Relcan, who considered every other race an enemy of the elves, glared at the tall elf. Eyrmin stood, dazed and staggering. He nodded, though the motion seemed to cause him pain.
“Yes,” he said and grimaced. As if his first speech had been painfully loud, he continued almost in a whisper. “They aided us in battle and they are free to go. We will not take the lives of those who protected ours.”
Eyrmin rubbed his head as he walked across the clearing. His eyes were directed downward, and he searched the trampled grass. Kneeling, he picked up his sword, Starfire, and turned slowly. He gazed at each of the elves and at Cald, as if assuring himself they were all present and unhurt.
He was preparing to slide his sword back into its scabbard when he gave a start of surprise and stared across the clearing. He moved into a fighting stance. The others drew their swords or fitted arrows to bowstrings, but they saw only an empty clearing.
“Wh-Who are you?” the prince asked. To his companions, he seemed to be speaking to thin air.
Even the goblins held their weapons ready, the recently stunned Bersmog leaning against the tree. His friend stood in front of him. Like the elves and Cald, they saw nothing, but they were less patient than the elves.
“Him have big bang on head?” Bersmog asked his goblin friend when no enemy appeared.
“B-i-g bang,” the second goblin agreed.
Eyrmin relaxed and sheathed his blade, but he kept staring across the clearing. He wiped his hand across his eyes and looked again.
“What do you see?” Cald, who had come out of his hiding place, asked, fearing the Shadow World portal had opened again. None of the rest could see any danger.
“Probably nothing,” Eyrmin said slowly. “A waking dream caused by the blow, mayhap.” He put his hand to the back of his head and winced slightly. “I think we have disturbed the grove enough for one day.”
He led the way west-southwest, toward the fork of the Moon Stream and the Star Mirror Stream, where the elven village called Reilmirid, or Watcher’s Home, was located close to the western tip of Muirien Grove.