Every charging elf was tossed backwards like dry grass thrown into a gale force wind. Their bodies landed hard on the ground and they suffered greatly from badly bruised flesh and harshly broken bones.
The human sorcerer spoke as if nothing had happened. He looked upon the elf named Flower.
"You are strong, but you cast in crimson energy. I have no need of you. I also don't need the one that casts in blue, but the six of you," he paused as he placed his attention on the six elves that had fed the spell casters with energy. "You might be of use. I have questions for you."
Ansas cast another spell and a slightly larger dark ring formed over his head. Another grouping of shadows dropped from the ebony circle and fell upon the six elves standing behind the remaining spell casters. They disappeared just as the others.
Birk burned with fury, but he contained his anger. He stepped up to the sorcerer and placed his hand on the hilt of his sword. He did not know if the threat might lead to his destruction, but he would not stand idle, would not cower to the powerful magician.
"Return them," he demanded in a low growl.
Ansas gave but one brief glance at the elf captain and then moved past him as if he did not exist. He stepped directly up to Shantree Wispon.
"Are you still concerned with the loss of magic?" he asked.
Shantree said nothing. She stared back at the sorcerer with an expression of resolved opposition.
"You worry too much," Ansas continued. "If I wanted you all dead, it would have already happened. I didn't bring you here to die. I know you need energy to survive. I shall make sure you have enough."
As Ansas raised his hand, she tried to back away.
"I do not…"
She could not finish. Her body became stiff even as she could actually feel her soul tremble within her.
Ansas did not ask for her permission. He simply forced his magic into her, whether she wanted it or not. It would be enough to keep the elf camp alive, for at least a while, and that was all he cared about.
"Use it wisely."
Chapter 12
Ansas faded out of sight, turning first into a gray haze-like little ink spots merged into a silhouette of his solid form-and then dissolving completely away. While his physical presence might have departed, he left a wake strong enough so that none would doubt his resolve or his authority. The barrier that surrounded the elves remained completely intact, as strong as it was before the elf spell casters began their assault. He also left his captives with a new reckoning of his intentions and a clear memory of his authority.
While their imprisonment continued unabated, the elves could not deny the sorcerer's ability to come and go as he pleased. Somehow the barrier confined them to that space, neutralized every attempt to teleport or create a portal, but Ansas was under no such constraints. The force field represented a stark domination that would crush their spirit, yet bend to the sorcerer's will.
The elves also understood, without doubt, that their options of attack dwindled down to nothing. Their weapons were useless against the sorcerer. Arrows could not penetrate Ansas' defenses, and swords were only useful if they could get near. Those that had attacked him had paid the price and found themselves in broken heaps, scattered across the rocky grounds of the dark realm.
With physical conflict rendered futile, a magical clash seemed the only alternative. Sadly, their efforts in that regard did not hold any greater hope. Their foe revealed far more power than they could level individually or even collectively. Further, their most proficient magic casters had been stolen away by a wave of a hand and one simple spell.
What was left for them to do?
Lose hope.
And so they did, and in great numbers. They cast disbelieving glances at the ground where the evil magic caster disappeared and then at the resurgent barrier they knew would not fall. The elf camp was trapped by a power they could not match and held by a foe they could not defeat.
While it was the elf elder's responsibility to lead her camp, Shantree Wispon initially disregarded the devastating despair that fell over those that remained imprisoned. She made no rallying plea, no forceful speech. Instead, she acted with all haste and focused upon the welfare of those that required immediate aid.
She raced to each fallen elf who had succumbed to Ansas' force blast. She quickly cast spells of healing to mend their bones and restore their flesh. While the other elves had given up much of their stored energy in the assault against the barrier, Shantree suddenly had more than enough magic within her, a token gesture from Ansas. It was energy she could use for the benefit of her camp, but she instinctively knew it was no benevolent gift.
Deep within, the elf elder felt the foreign energy make its own place within her magical core. Shantree instinctively knew she could utilize it, but only to a degree. She understood that Ansas infused her with magic for his own purposes, not hers. He wanted the elves to remain alive, for he was not through with them. He instilled within her the means to heal and to nourish, but he did not share her compassionate motives.
It pained her to aid the sorcerer, to be part of his cruel designs, but she could not deny her basic desire to keep her followers alive. She attempted to concentrate only on the good she could accomplish and on the elf lives she could save, but a shadow crossed her soul with every spell that she cast. Trying to blot out the sorcerer's desires was an impossible task, for the dark magic within her reinforced Ansas' intentions.
With all of the injured elves restored to a healthy state, Shantree turned her attention to their meager food and water supplies. She directed her newfound source of energy toward the small well the elves had dug. Previously, the scarce magic absorbed from the realm was utilized to invigorate the flow and to purify the stagnant water. The elder fed the filters that magically cleansed the thick sludge bubbling deep in the pits of the dark realm.
She then concentrated on the plants that offered fruits and nuts, life that was coaxed out of the barren soil by the grace of emerald energy that was so prevalent in the elves. She enriched the soil, strengthened the roots, and energized the growth of each stem. In mere moments, the potential harvest from the plants tripled.
The elves would not starve, nor would they suffer from lack of clean water, but Shantree also knew they would not escape. She had hoped the immediate address of basic needs would encourage her camp, keep optimism alive, but it was near dead within her, a victim of the power that Ansas forced inside of her.
It was not evil she felt within her, but rather more like capitulation. The magic violated both her body and spirit. It took residence in her core without her permission, and it would stay there until she used it according to its conditions.
Unable to cast out the energy in any other form, she resigned herself to the grim situation. The elves of her camp would remain trapped in the dark realm and she would serve, in some respects, as a tool for the conquering sorcerer. Needing to address the full scope of the predicament, she moved with a quick step-far faster than she had walked in many cycles of the seasons-and took council with the elf guard captain.
Birk Grund eyed the elf elder with more concern than suspicion, but he could not shake the image of what he had seen. The sorcerer had placed magic within Shantree, energy that she appeared to use for the benefit of the camp, but he needed to gauge the possibility of potential corruption.
"What did he do to you?" he asked with respect, but also with an expression that demanded an answer. If Shantree's allegiance had been compromised, he would have to know.