“First, there was the glow on the mountainside, for the concentration of such power cannot be hidden. The gods of the humans numbered seven, and to honor their courage and sacrifice that day, we took the trouble to learn their names. Anduiras, the noble god of war; Reynir, of the woods and streams; Brenna, of commerce and fortune; Vorynn, of the moon, who favored magic; Masela, of the great seas; and Basaia, who humans say ruled the sun. These six stood against the evil of Azrai, the seventh.”
“Six against one,” Cald murmured, as he did each time the tale was told. He wanted to hear again the reason; it was not the most exciting part of the story, but to him the lesson, as Eyrmin had explained it, was the most impressive. In Eyrmin’s explanation he had found a life lesson, and he liked to have it reinforced.
“The numbers counted for nothing. It was the power that mattered, much like six elves standing against one dragon. The six gods of the humans drew much of their strength from the faith of their followers. As the battle waged and the humans began to fear, the powers of their gods waned. But Azrai, the evil one, had learned to draw not from faith but from fear, and fed on his own host as well as on the weak of heart and purpose among his foes.
“So it is that if a human fears, he weakens those immortals on whom he depends, and elves who fear aid the side of evil and weaken themselves, for we have never looked to gods, though we seek the aid of good fortune from Tallamai.”
Cald knew all about Tallamai. The stars in the night sky were the spirits of elves that had died honorably in battle. They looked down on their people, and often aided them in small ways. The elves of Sielwode revered them and attributed good fortune to their assistance. Still, their influence was not considered to make them gods, like those of the humans. Eyrmin went on with the tale.
Behind the prince, Saelvam, caught up in the tale, had not given due attention to the path and tripped over a fallen tree limb. Eyrmin’s eyes danced with laughter, though he bit his lips to keep from smiling at the awkward elf’s misstep. When Saelvam was back in line, he went on with his tale.
“Power and dread purpose lit the faces of the six gods as they moved forward to meet Azrai, who loomed before them. He alone was enough to fill every heart with terror and weaken our purpose, but his own minions feared him as much, and the beast-men we fought fled his presence. Had they not, we would not be here today. In their loss of heart, we found the courage to follow them. We chased them down the mountainside and across the plain to the east. The man-beasts had stolen many elven lives that day, and we could not let our people go unavenged.
“Our bowmen had used all their arrows, and stopped as they ran to retrieve spent missiles, pulling some from the wounded and the dead. How long the battle would have lasted, we have no idea, but the ground beneath our feet trembled and shook. Even the most surefooted stumbled and fell. One of the beast-men, looking behind him, shouted to the others, and they cowered, huddling on the ground. They ignored us as if we no longer mattered. Indeed, we soon learned we were a puny danger compared to the peril that followed.
“Their fear caused us to turn and look. From the slopes of the mountain a great blackness had begun to spread, as if night sought to hide the destruction from the sight of the sun. From that blackness came bolts of fire and lighting that showered down. So hot was the fire of the gods that trees blazed up and were gone in an instant. Rocks and soil melted and boiled.
“The ground shifted around us and sank to a depth of nearly twice our height. The surviving elves of Sielwode tumbled with the sinking earth and cried out to Tallamai. In our fear we were like children. It is our way to look to ourselves and thank those that have gone before when they send us good fortune, but that day we called to them as the humans and beasts called to their own gods. Strong arms and great skills could avail us nothing against the force of the world turning against itself. Many of us believe the power of the departed had seen our plight and had already provided for us.”
The prince paused before crossing the stepping-stones in the Star Mirror Stream. He guided Cald, whose shorter legs still made his leaps from stone to stone less secure than those of the elves.
“Because you had a place to shelter when the mountain exploded,” Cald said breathlessly when they reached the northern side of the stream and entered the Muirien Grove.
“Because we had a place to shelter when the mountain exploded,” Eyrmin agreed. “It seemed as if the land had risen up to fall on us for daring to shed so much blood. Earth, stones, giant trees, weapons, armor and the dead rained down on the surrounding countryside. We sheltered beneath the cliff that had been created by the sinking of the earth, and so we survived. Beyond us, the beast-men were buried under a great fall of earth and rock. The dust had not settled when tumbling from the sky came the richly jeweled crown of some evil king. It glittered dimly from the top of the heap of stones and earth.”
“And you would not touch it, because you thought it was evil,” Cald said, his face alight with the enjoyment of the tale, but it soon became a frown. Most of his questions were rote, asking for the parts of the tale he enjoyed most or hurrying the prince along when he bogged down in the description. This day he had a new thought, a new question.
“But Eyrmin, if the humans came to this land because they feared the evil Azrai and he was destroyed, why didn’t they go home again? Didn’t they love their land like we love Sielwode?”
Most of the elves accompanying their prince smiled in approval, but Relcan gave a snort of disgust. His head jerked. He shot a glare at the human child, and then walked quickly away. The prince had taught Cald to love the forest with elven intensity, and any mention of the boy’s feelings seemed to anger Relcan.
Eyrmin’s hand dropped to the boy’s shoulder. “Humans do not put their hearts into their lands the way elves do. The lives of your race are fleeting, and what seems a short tale to an elf is a long history to humans. Many had come to Cerilia generations before the battle at Mount Deismaar and had no memory of their homeland. Even had they remembered it, the land bridge was destroyed, and it is said that evil creatures now swim in the depths of the Straits of Aerele.”
“They could not have loved their land like I love Sielwode,” Cald said. To him Sielwode was a wonderful place, and he loved it with a fierce devotion most of the elves found surprising in one of his race. To him it was safety after the terror of the gnoll attack, which still haunted his dreams occasionally and kept his fear fresh. Part of his love for Sielwode came from his devotion to his royal foster-father. In his mind, Sielwode and Eyrmin were inseparable.
In the seven years he had lived with the elves, Cald had been well cared for and had been taught the elvish tongue, Sidhelien. He had advanced in his own language and could speak some goblin, gnoll, and orog. He was knowledgeable in wood lore.
Eyrmin had always insisted that Cald would have to return to his own people when the first surrogate human parents came within elven sight of Sielwode. Relcan had been assiduous in spotting human travelers on the Markaz plain, and at first Cald clung to the hope that the elves might find his parents.
By the time Cald knew his own people would not return, Eyrmin had become the focus of his life. Then news of humans on the plain caused him to tremble in fear of being sent away, but the prince always found fault with the travelers. He kept Cald in the wood. Finally even Relcan gave up trying to rid the elven realm of this young human, though he wasted no opportunity to show his contempt.
The elven healers had given Cald magical draughts that cured his breath-rasp, and he had grown strong as well as tall for his age. Over Relcan’s objections, Eyrmin had made him a bow, and under the elves’ instruction, Cald had become what they considered a fair shot. Few adult humans had as keen an eye as Cald, though he was not yet large enough or strong enough for a proper elven longbow. The prince had provided him with a sword and spears, though he was less adept with them.