The elf had worn finely made robes, and the circlet upon his head was also of exceptional craftsmanship. While striking in countenance and massive in body, he did not look like a warrior or scout, and given his human disguise, the creature was intent upon stealth, not conflict. Alystan knew him some manner of magician, but his garb and illusion set him apart from the Spellweavers of Elvandar, or the Loremasters of the Eldar. Their magic was as much a thing of nature as mind and will; this conjuration had been worn around the shoulders like a cloak, and was too much like dark human arts.
The strange elf obviously hailed from a people who enjoyed material splendour as much as humans did, for his robes had been made of a shimmering weave, pearl-white satin or silk perhaps, and their hems were decorated with ruby and azure threads. His staff of oak, which had seemed to be a simple walking stave, had in that instant shown itself to be a thing of magic, adorned at its top by a large glass orb, which glowed even in the bright sunlight. Alystan was certain that no human - certainly no Ranger - had encountered this elf’s kin before.
As he picked up speed, Alystan wondered why he was here. He knew that once his business was concluded in Carse, rather than return to Bordon, he must hie to the dwarves of the Grey Towers, in the village of Caldara, and take counsel with them. They knew more of elf lore than any this side of Elvandar, and it was upon their borders that this elf trod. Perhaps the dwarves knew why such a being was scouting this region, although thirty years of experience tracking in these mountains and forests on both sides of the peaks told him that no one in the Free Cities or the Kingdom of the Isles would like the answer.
*
Demons howled in rage and pain as they assaulted the barricade. A shower of arrows rained down on them striking dozens as they sought to climb the barricade using the bodies of their fallen comrades to crest the defences.
Undalyn, Regent Lord of the Clans of the Seven Stars, pointed to an oncoming wave of the creatures on the right, near the top of the barricade, and shouted, ‘There! Pitch!’
Two Conjurers waited nearby, far enough behind the battle-front to be relatively safe, flanked by a dozen archers detailed to bring down any flyers who might target them. A massive cauldron of burning pitch waited on top of a blazing mound of logs, and the two magicians acted in concert. Well practised in their arts, they closed their eyes, needing no sight to manage their task.
The cauldron, so large that a dozen men and two draught animals had placed it on top of the pyre, rose into the air as if gently lifted by an invisible giant hand. It floated over the heads of the defenders and poured its contents over the demons below.
Flaming death rained down on the demons near the top of the barricade, while those below hung back for a moment as waves of heat washed over them, singeing hair and eyebrows. The usual stench of demon was made even more noxious by the burnt odour. The creatures fell back, but the Regent Lord knew they were still hard pressed in the centre and on their left.
He turned away from the pile of writhing demons and assessed his position. His warriors fought valiantly, as their fathers and grandfathers had before them. For one hundred years the Clans of the Seven Stars had struggled against the Demon Legion, and for a hundred years they had made the monsters pay dearly for every inch of ground they gained, for every village they sacked, and for every life sacrificed.
Still, he knew that his resources were dwindling and theirs seemed without limit. In the distance, on the horizon, he saw a dark cloud yet knew there was no rain in the air. Before he could speak one of the lookouts on the tower above shouted, ‘Flyers!’
Knowing his command was gratuitous, as his magic users already conjured their defence, he still felt the need to give the order. ‘Shields!’
It was part of Undalyn’s nature to be wary of ceding too much authority to others. He knew this could easily be a failing, but another part of him took pride in knowing that every one of his warriors, priests, and magic users understood their task and answered him without hesitation. The more desperate his people’s struggle became, the more proud he felt of them.
He was Undalyn, leader of his people by lineage and law, Regent Lord of the Clans of the Seven Stars. He was the most powerful elf among his kind.
His features were typical of his people, though his skin tended towards a darker tone than most, due to his passion for hunting and spending years under the sun. I lis blue eyes were the colour of the ocean, containing flecks of green, and his brow was unlined, despite his more than three hundred years. A white leather circlet decorated with five perfect rubies set in gold tied his snow-white hair above his head in a noble’s knot and left some free to fall in a long cascade down his back. He was handsome, but nevertheless had a dark and dangerous aspect to his features that was revealed at odd moments, though he rarely raised his voice in anger. It was his eyes that held the fury within.