Within his mind, Sorak heard Kivara’s voice cry out, “Sorak! I’m afraid! Make it stop!”
“Hush, Kivara,” said the Sage, and Sorak was surprised that he could hear her. Had he spoken Kivara’s words aloud in his physical body? Or had the Sage somehow melded with them to guide them on their journey? But then, his voice was growing fainter, just as he predicted.
“I shall not be going with you,” said the Sage, confirming what he thought, “but I shall remain here and watch over you. This is a journey you must undertake alone. A journey deep into your inner self, and beyond. As you travel farther into the depths of your mind, you are going back, back through the years, back to a time before you were born....”
Sorak felt himself falling slowly, the way a body sinks in water when the lungs are emptied out. The Sage’s voice was growing fainter and fainter....
“You are going back to a time when that part of you that was your father met that part of you that was your mother... back to discover who they were and how they met... back to when it all began....”
The elf tribe had been traveling all winter, and now the hot summer months were fast approaching. They had come east from the Hinterlands, to the western foothills of the Ringing Mountains, through the long and winding pass that had brought them to the eastern slopes. They had no map to follow, but instead, were guided by the visions of their chieftain, who had told them that the journey would be hard, but worth the effort for what they would discover at its end.
Mira and the others knew the visions of their chieftain were true, for he had told them of the mountain pass, and had brought them to it unerringly, just as he had told them of the smoking mountain, which they could now see in the distance from the slopes bach night, the chieftain gathered his small tribe around him at the campfire, told them what new portents his visions had revealed, and reminded them why they had embarked upon this long and arduous pilgrimage. It was a story that Mira knew by heart as did all the others of her tribe, who would join in at key pans of the recitation as they sat in a circle round the fire, gazing at their chieftain while, every night he retold it. It was a way of reaffirming their purpose, and of strengthening their unity in a common cause.
“And so it came to pass that the noble Alaron, last of the long and honored line of elven kings, was cursed by the evil Rajaat, who feared the power of the elves and sought to sow disunity among them ” said the chieftain. The tribe listened silently, many nodding to themselves as he spoke. “With his defiler magic, Rajaat cast a spell upon the noble Alaron, so that he could sire no sons, and so the royal line would die out with him. And the evil that he wrought upon our people is with us to this day, may his name live long in infamy.”
“May his name live long in infamy,” the people of the tribe echoed in grave chorus.
“Rajaat then sowed discord among the tribes, using bribery, deceit, and magic, and in time, he succeeded in driving the tribes apart into many warring factions. Only the noble Alaron continued to resist him, but he was unable to bring the tribes together once again. And so the kingdom fell.”
“And so the kingdom fell,” the tribe repeated as one.
“Then the noble Alaron was forced to flee, pursued by Rajaat’s evil minions,” the chieftain continued. “They caught up to him and the remnants of his tribe at a place known as the Lake of Golden Dreams, and it was there the dream died for our people. A mighty battle followed, and all the tribe was slain. Mortally wounded, the noble Alaron alone escaped into the forests of the Ringing Mountains, and it was there he fell down in despair and waited for death to come and claim him. He had done his utmost, and he had failed, but he had not bowed down before the foe. May his courage be remembered.”
“May his courage be remembered,” Mira said along with the other members of the tribe.
“And it came to pass that as he lay, dying, a wandering pyreen came upon him and stopped to bring him peace and ease his final moments. My visions have not revealed her name to me, but they revealed how the noble Alaron, with his last breath, gave her his sword, the mighty Galdra, enchanted blade of elven kings. With his last breath he asked one final boon of her. ‘Take this, my sword, the symbol of my once-proud people,’ he said to her. ‘Keep it safe, so that it should never fall into the hands of the defilers, for the blade would shatter if they tried to use it. I was cursed never to have a son,’ he said, ‘and a proud tradition dies with me. The elves are now a beaten people. Take Galdra and keep it safe. My life is but the blink of an eye to a pyreen such as you. Perhaps, someday, you will succeed where I have failed, and find an elf worthy of this blade. If not, then hide it from the defilers. I can at least deny them this.’
“And with those words, he died. And so the kingdom of the elves died with him.”
“And so the kingdom of the elves died with him,” echoed the tribe with sadness.
“And our people became decadent, and the tribes scattered far and wide, most to live as nomads in the desert, raiding and stealing from both humans and each other, forsaking their honor, while others went to reside within the cities of the humans, where they engaged in commerce with them and mixed their blood with theirs and forgot the glory of their once-proud race. And yet, a tiny spark of hope remained, nurtured in the hearts of all our people. That faintly glowing spark became known as the legend of the Crown of Elves, passed on throughout the generations, even though, to most, it was no more than a myth, a story told by elven bards around the camp-fires to while away the lonely desert nights and bring a few moments of solace in the squalid elven quarters of the cities, where our people lived in poverty and degradation. And thus we all recall the legend.”
“And thus we all recall the legend,” Mira said, among with all the others, who watched their chieftain with rapt fascination as he spoke, his face illuminated by the flickering flames
“There shall come a day, the legends says,” the chieftain continued, “when a chieftain’s seventh son shall fall and rise again, and from his rise, a new life shall begin. From this new life will spring new hope for all our people, and it shall be the Crown of Elves, by which a great, good ruler will be crowned, one who shall bring back the elven forest homeland. The Crown shall reunite the people, and a new dawn shall bring the greening of the world. So it is said, so shall it be.”
“So it is said, so shall it be,” the people chanted.
“And so we gather ’round the fire tonight, as we do on each and every night, to reaffirm our purpose,” said the chieftain. “From the day I fell and struck my head upon a rock in weapons training with my father, chieftain of the Moon Runners, I began to have my visions. I fell and rose again, and from this rise, a new life had begun for me. A new life where I saw visions that would guide my people to the new dawn that was promised. I knew, from that day forth, that it was my fate to seek and find the Crown of Elves, which can only be the legendary Galdra, sword of Alaron and symbol of our people. And I knew, because my visions told me so, that I would one day become chieftain of our tribe and that I, Kether, a chieftain’s seventh son, would lead my people on a quest to find the pyreen who held in trust the fabled sword of Alaron.
“We have come far upon that quest,” Kether continued, “and now I sense that we are near its end. We have put aside all other concerns and rivalries and passions, we have devoted ourselves to the spiritual purity of the Path of Preserver, and we have embraced the Druid Way, to purge ourselves of violent emotions, petty prides, and selfish motivations. To find the peace-bringer who shall bring the Crown to us, we must first find peace within ourselves, to make us worthy. Each day, we must reaffirm our purpose and pursue it with new zeal. We must bear reverence within our hearts for every living thing, and for our dying world, so that it may one day live again. To this noble end, we dedicate ourselves.”