Murmurs rose among the gnomes, swelling into angry shouts, and Councillor Emery held up his hands. “We assumed that would be your reaction. So be it. We’ll provide the whole story—though it is not a happy one. It goes back five thousand years, to the time you lost your homeland.”
Councillor Bronte stepped forward. “I was an Emissary when Serenvale was overthrown—newly appointed. In fact, Emissaries were a new thing for our world. I suppose that’s not a detail you’d consider relevant—but what is relevant is that our hearts were broken when your refugees arrived in the Lost Cities. Their stories of famine and bloodshed inspired immediate action, and I was ordered to contact the ogres and make it clear that the only way to avoid war was to commit to a treaty. At first, the ogres cooperated, and agreed to meet under a truce. King Gowg—the ogre king at the time—even invited us to Serenvale. Councillor Fallon Vacker went with me, as did both of the gnomish leaders. But when we arrived, we began to see the depth of our dilemma. Serenvale had been destroyed. The Eventide river ran with polluted water, and the trees had all been torn from the ground. Even if the ogres surrendered the land, there would be nothing for your people to return to.”
Angry shouts erupted among the gnomes, and Bronte paused to allow their rage before he continued.
“Our goal was still to negotiate peace,” he said. “To ensure nothing like this would ever occur again. So with your leaders permission, we continued our treaty negotiations. But the ogres refused to consider our demands. We were preparing to return to the Lost Cities, when King Gowg invited us to dine with him. He claimed it would be a chance to better understand one another. I cannot tell you how much I wish we hadn’t agreed. The conversation was as horrible as the food, and he ended dinner with an ultimatum. He told us in three weeks we would see that he had the upper hand in these negotiations. We returned to the Lost Cities and prepared for an attack. But nothing changed and the deadline passed uneventfully. We were determining our next steps when we received word that your leaders had fallen ill.”
Bronte’s voice cracked, and he had to clear his throat several times.
“I’m sure you don’t need me to describe their symptoms. It was the same plague we face now. And it had spread to their spouses, as well as the trees they’d taken up residence in. At first, we didn’t understand the connection. We thought they’d encountered a new pathogen in our world, and we kept the quarantine quiet to avoid panic. The only gnomes who knew were the healers who worked with our physicians, searching for a cure. None of them could find the mysterious parasite. And then King Gowg paid Lumenaria a visit. That was the first time any of us heard the word ‘drakostomes.’?”
The word sounded heavier on Bronte’s lips, as though it were a burden he’d been carrying for far too long.
“The drakostomes are an accident of nature,” he whispered, and yet the sound still rang off the jeweled buildings. “A force that was never meant to be unleashed. Had your people not lost Serenvale, it’s likely the plague would’ve remained undiscovered. But the ogres stole your homeland, tore down your beloved Panakes, and split open their bark.”
A sharp gasp echoed through the crowd.
“Yes,” Bronte told them. “The trees of your legends were real. And their fall unleashed the greatest danger your people have ever faced. We don’t know how the ogres discovered the parasite—or how they infected your leaders—but King Gowg assured us he’d harvested enough to infect the entire gnomish population. He also insisted that there was no cure.”
The crowd erupted, both elves and gnomes shouting in anger and grief and disbelief.
“That was our reaction as well,” Bronte said. “But King Gowg claimed that the only substance able to resist the drakostomes was the bark they’d once been preserved in. And he took quite a lot of delight in explaining that he’d burned every last piece of the Panakes in order to harvest the parasites.”
Bronte let that sink in before he added, “That was when he gave us an ultimatum. We could surrender to his demands, and he would swear never to unleash the plague. Or we could sacrifice the entire gnomish species.”