Leaves brushed across his face, the heavy scent of Fall in the air danced through his nose; however, for once Alorinis Bloodarrow did not smile or even grin. He remained intensely still, body refusing to budge in any way.
“Put forth your name,” came the voice from the north point, and Alorinis opened his eyes.
“Alorinis Bloo,” he began before a sharp retort came from the speaker, “Your true name.” With a firm nod he began again, “Alorinis Alah’ni.”
The speaker, a burly Sin’dorei with harsh eyes stared at Alorinis, along with the other numerous pairs of eyes that surrounded him in this most sacred of places to him. The Council of the Wilds had convened upon his judgement, here to give sentence to him for his crimes. Surrounded by the Chosen of the Ancients, Rangers like him who had been hand selected by the Ancients of the Wilds to carry out their will, and the Ancients themselves who chose to attend.
Alorinis gave a quick glance around the circle again, noting the Rangers he had known and seen rise as Chosen, many of them confused or impassive. Except for three faces, each of them more furious or malicious than the last. Bela’dor, the Chosen of Aessina and Alorinis’ superior as a Ranger, held a dangerous gaze in his eyes, his teeth locked in a grimace. To the west, Arando, the Dwarven Ranger who stood as the Chosen of Goldrinn, held a similar dangerous zeal in his eyes with a condescending smirk. Towering behind Arando was Goldrinn, the ferocity and savagery of the Wilds and by far the Ancient who despised Alorinis the most, carrying a toothy grin that gave a shiver to Alorinis’ spine.
With a gulp and returned glance he north he looked past Bela’dor to Aessina, his Ancient whom he had dedicated his life as a Ranger to, and gave a pleading look. Her continued stare was all he received, perhaps the most depressing moment of all to Alorinis; otherwise, certainly the growly laugh elicited by Goldrinn at Alorinis’ sigh.
“You know why you are here, do you not?” Bela’dor spoke into the silence that had come between them all, “Tell us why.”
Alorinis held his tongue for a moment, half expecting Bela’dor to just lash out more, and spoke when sure.
“I come before the Council to repent for my crimes as a Ranger,” he spoke calmly and quickly with eyes never leaving Aessina.
“Wrong!” Arando roared, slapping the tree at his side for good effect, “You are here to be sentenced for horrid treacheries as a Ranger! We should roast you on an open spit!”
A quick shot of a look from the other Chosen quickly silences Arando, but not without Goldrinn grinning deeper.
“Arando is correct, Alorinis. ‘Crimes’ is not a word fitting what you have done.” Bela’dor lifted a parchment from his side, reading it quickly with a frustrated shake of his head. “Five-thousand accounts of murder, innocent lives taken before their time, by you.” He glances to Alorinis, narrowing his gaze, “You. A Ranger. A guardian of life and bound to protect all the innocents there are. But no, you slaughtered them. Callously taking lives with not a sliver of concern,” Bela’dor and all those gathered looked at him, their full attention undivided upon him as Bela’dor spoke, “Until now. Why?”
Alorinis took a deep breath before speaking, his voice strong but strained, “I have come to realize the error of my ways. I have seen the dark path I have walked, and wish to undo what I have done.”
A myriad of sighs, gasps, nods, snorts, and other various responses echoed around Alorinis; but none resounded louder than the dreaded silence that heralded from Aessina’s wispy form. Before Bela’dor could rebuttal to Alorinis, a deep voice shook them all from their stares and demanded attention solely by the power it held.
“You lie, Elf. You dare to lie before this grouping, before the very Ancients you dare to say you serve.” Goldrinn had given voice, an Ancient speaking and not just observing, and it scared them all. “You had no epiphany of morals, you had nothing so good. You are grief stricken, wallowing in misery. One of my own left you, the wife you stole, finally realized the horror she married. That is all that brings you before us, your pathetic attempt to win her back.” Goldrinn shook his massive maw, eyes curling into their malicious gaze. “Put him to death,” Goldrinn spoke.
Alorinis shuddered, any Council of the Wilds deliberated until all points had been made and everyone had answered their questions. Unless, of course, an Ancient had passed judgement, at which point all must give their judgement. Goldrinn has signed Alorinis to death, and his only hope of surviving was if every Chosen spoke against Goldrinn. He sighed, knowing even that to be a lie. Alorinis was doomed unless Aessina spoke to save Alorinis, the will of an Ancient clashing against another was all he could hope for, the stalemate that would forever hang over him until they had grown bored or forgotten him.
The Chosen began giving forth their judgement, cries of “death” or “freedom” rang true; the odd cry of “rebuke him” sounded and scared Alorinis to his core. To rebuke him would be to sever his connection to the Wilds, remove him from begin a Ranger and possibly even a fighter depending who carried it out.
All of these words and Alorinis stared at Aessina, the only one whose words could carry any weight against Goldrinn’s. Soon everyone joined him in his stare, eyes turning towards the spirit and waiting. For a long while, what felt like his life over to Alorinis, Aessina merely remained silent; until her spectral lips parted and a brief sentence resounded around them all.
“I abstain,” she said and closed her mouth once more.
Silence surrounded them again, as Alorinis felt the world crushing upon him. Aessina had abstained; she had given no judgement for or against him, leaving the only resounding judgement to be that of Goldrinn. With a shudder and a determined spin on his heel, Alorinis turned to face Goldrinn, if anyone was going to have the pleasure of killing him it would be Goldrinn. Arando stepped aside, grinning as Goldrinn stood to his full height and stalked forward to make the ground tremble beneath him. He stood before Alorinis, maw pointed downward over him as the Ancient laughed.
“A meal sweeter than any other I’ve had in a long while,” Goldrinn said before opening his mouth to display the rows of fangs and tendril of saliva that splashed down next to Alorinis.
With a final glance to the silent Aessina, Alorinis gave a silent prayer to Eleneill hoping she’d live peacefully with their children. He looked up to Goldrinn’s maw, determined to meet death with an ounce of dignity, and waited.
Before he could feel the fangs slice through his body, a voice echoed all around them; one unlike any other that carried a gravity and power which demanded not only fealty from the mortals but from the Ancients as well.
“Life,” the sweet word echoes all around the forest, bursting from the bark of the trees and the ground itself. Any living portion of nature resounded with this call, as the trees moved aside.
The Council of the Wilds consisted, when fully staffed, of every Ancient of the Wilds and a mortal named as their Chosen. The combination of all these beings represented the power and will of the Wilds and the natural power of the worlds, the last authority on such matters. The last authority, until He spoke. As the trees moved aside, the Sacred Grove being uncovered by the only other being it obeyed beyond those gathered, a white radiance poured through.
Immediately all Chosen and Alorinis dropped to a knee, Aessina and Goldrinn bowing their heads to the light. Alorinis trembled, eyes fixated on the ground as it was covered in the white radiance, but his mind raced. He had said “life” to them all, Alorinis’ life, he was going to be saved, he would live another day to see his loved ones, another day to regain all he had lost, another day to be with his family; but at what cost he wondered. Slowly, every Chosen and Alorinis lifted their head to the core of the light, eyes nearly watering at the sight. Malorne, the Stag, had come before the Council of the Wilds. The Ancient of which all other Ancients deferred to in times of question or demand, the only Ancient who stood nearly as a god and was the lover of one. If Aessina’s word could of given a stalemate to cease Goldrinn’s decree, Malorne’s word could entirely overturn it, and it seems it had.
Bolstered by the realization, Alorinis quickly stood with eyes that focus upon Malorne’s directly. With a firm nod to all gathered, Malorne turned and walked away from the Sacred Grove, leaving all of them to this new situation. As each Chosen glanced to one another, Goldrinn returning to his place with a scowl that could melt the skin off a mammoth.
Aessina lifted her lips again, “A penance shall be paid. For the count of five-thousand innocent lives taken, you, Alorinis Alah’ni, shall take five-thousand incarnations of the emotions you so brought upon these people. And as you kill each incarnation, you shall feel the pain of one you killed, and know what they felt at your hands.”
Alorinis felt a burning at his side, his left hip scorching and feeling something begin dragged across him. With a quick movement he parted his chain mail and shirt, revealing a tattoo being etched into his skin from nowhere. Intricate black lines lying around one another to center over a red circle, forming an eye which Alorinis could surmise contained five-thousand pieces.
“This hearing is dismissed,” Aessina bellowed until them all before vanishing into the air.
Each of the remaining Chosen walked out from the Sacred Grove, exiting in their own fashion, until only Belo’dar, Arando, and Goldrinn were left. Arando merely spat on the ground and stomped out of the place, as Belo’dar patted Alorinis on the shoulder with a smile to his ear,
“I am glad you are not dead, old friend.” His voice full of curiosity and disbelief, but relief more than anything; he too vanishes into the forest around them, leaving only Alorinis and Goldrinn.
“You were saved this time, but don’t expect it to be so common that He speaks for you.” Goldrinn narrowed his eyes, canine fangs sticking out from his jaw with a growl, “I know what you did, Spider-Elf-of-Night-and-Moon as my son calls you, and I know what you will do. Mark my words, as long as you dare meddle in my affairs, I will find a way to kill you. Even if I have to make her do it, I will see your blood on my claws.”
Without giving Alorinis a moment to respond, not that he could as his heart raced with the threat of exploding in his chest, Goldrinn leapt away into the air to vanish in the forests. A howl the only sound left, soon too gone to leave Alorinis alone.
He stood there for a long moment, thoughts calming as he assessed his situation. Charge with killing emotions, how one does such he had no clue, but given the chance to continue his already long life for even longer. His mindset focused upon one portion of his life in particular, the chance to regain the trust he had betrayed and the love he nearly let leave him. Remembering the words of Goldrinn he quietly slipped out of the Sacred Grove, resolve firm in his mind. He would complete his penance, no matter what the cost or method, and he would regain what he lost. His morals, his very zest for life, and his soulmate.
“I have waited over four millennia to find her, and I will not let anyone stop me. Ancients, gods, or anything else. All be damned that stand between us.”
0 comments:
Post a Comment