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Ulrealiac shook the young elf a third time. "Wake up, Garum."
The elf grunted loudly, trying to pretend he was still asleep and rolled over in his bed. The older elf was not fooled and only shook Garum harder. "I said wake up. You will not avoid your duties tonight. I don't care what the weather is like outside. You will take your turn at the guard."
Garum finally gave up and opened his eyes. He sat up slowly in bed and rubbed the imaginary sleep out of them. He had been awake for many minutes, but did not want to go outside. He looked around at the thick walls of the hollowed out pine tree that constituted his home, wishing that he could take the warmth and protection of this tree with him. The guard positions were not without any protection against the elements, but the leafy canopy surrounding each post was nothing compared to the thick boughs of this pine.
This tree, and every other tree in the grove, were the only structures that housed the elves of the village. There were no extra wooden panels added to the trees and nowhere would you find any type of nail or other metal support anywhere in the village. Still, even though the rain was coming down very hard outside, not one drop had yet penetrated the thick pine.
If ever a leak in the tree was discovered, all it would take was a quick spell from one of the many druids in the village and the pine tree would sprout a new branch that would fill the void. These trees were not simple pines, but their strength and structure was a direct result of elven magic.
This particular tree had two other levels apart from the ground floor. The woven branches that formed the other two floors and the steps leading to them were as strong and sturdy as the best homes in the nearest human city.
Garum slowly rose from his bed, giving his father a frustrated look. "Don't give me that," Ulrealiac said sharply. "You knew what types of responsibilities you would incur by becoming a fighter in this village. You had the chance to pursue a different lifestyle like your brother, but you did not."
His brother, Ryun, looked on with amusement. He was a druid in training. Even though his father was thought of as one of the best fighters in the village, and Ryun had the strength and ability to follow in his footsteps, he had been too intrigued with the forest around him to disregard his heart's true calling.
Ulrealiac had not tried to persuade his older son's choice and had been very supportive in the lengthy and difficult process of becoming an official druid within the grove. He had been just as open and supportive of Garum when it came time for him to choose his profession and was happy to have at least one of his sons follow him.
Garum, however, though he had as much skill as Ulrealiac had at his age, did not have even a fraction of the motivation or desire. Garum had heard stories of how his father had battled against goblins and giants, not only defending this grove but also going on expeditions outside of the forest to push back the evil races that lived within the nearby mountains.
The younger son had listened to those stories and wanted to be able to have his own to tell some day, but so far, his life as a fighter within the elven village had only brought him decades of boredom and countless responsibilities.
The village had seen many years of peace and prosperity. In the times of Ulrealiac's youth, the elven community had struggled to survive, their numbers dwindling as the years went by. Now the village contained almost one hundred adult elves and a dozen children.
As Garum slowly strapped on his equipment, he could not help but catch his older brother's eye. Ryun had gotten up this night just to see his brother woken for his duties. The two got along very well, but Ryun could not help rubbing in the fact that Garum's responsibilities out-numbered his own.
In truth, once Ryun became a full druid within the village, his duties would be much greater than his brother's. Though Garum was the younger, his time of instruction and training had been but a fraction of the time Ryun had spent and would still spend in study and training.
"No matter how slowly you get ready, your time on patrol will not be lessened," Ulrealiac said sternly.
"But nothing ever happens," Garum complained. "Once a week I stay up all night watching the forest and nothing happens. I feel like I am useless."
"We are experiencing a time of peace, I agree," Ulrealiac said, "but that peace is a direct result of the fact that none of stupid ocrs or goblins would dare attack us. Why? Because they know we keep a diligent guard. They know that in a moment's notice, we can fill the trees surrounding our village with archers so fast and completely, that we can slay three hundred of them before they even approach our grove."
"But isn't that knowledge alone enough to keep them at bay. Isn't it enough for them to believe we have guards posted? Perhaps if we took an expedition out to rid the mountains of the heinous creatures we would not even need any guards."
Ulrealiac sighed. He had thought this way too once, but he had seen too many of his brethren die at the hands of goblins and the like. "Here in our element we are strong," Ulrealiac said. "The goblins would be foolish to come for us here. We would be just as foolish to go to the mountains to fight them. Though they are weak, they number as many as the trees in our forest. They have allied with the stone giants and in their own environment, they are a formidable force."
"If we are not to attack them, and they are not to attack us, then what is the point of keeping a guard?"
"Though goblins and orcs and even trolls, should be smart enough to stay away, they often are not. Especially on a night like tonight with their thunder god supposedly having so much fun with the night sky, they might think it a good time to catch us unawares. They move through the woods as quietly as a drunken dwarf, but on a noisy night like tonight, they might think it worth the risk."
Garum knew his father and he would not agree on this, and he also knew he would not be able to avoid his duties. He finished filling his quiver with arrows and reluctantly moved to the exit of the hollow pine and out into the wet night. The two remaining elves were quiet for a while, thinking about what was said.
"Will we ever see battle again?" Ryun asked. He was nearly a century old, but still too young to remember the last time this grove had seen a fight.
"Most definitely. Right now your studies focus on the balance of nature and how it applies to the forest and the animals within. The number of predators and prey in a forest might fluctuate dramatically within a few years, but you know that neither will become extinct, and an overall balance will always remain.
"You will find that it is the same with the races of the realms. The evil races will grow in number and strength over the course of time, eventually coming to a point where they feel confident to fight against us and the other goodly races. They might win a few encounters. They might even drive us into hiding, but eventually, we will band together and push them back into the mountains. A balance will always remain."
"So we will see battle again," Ryun said, thinking of his lessons regarding the natural balance of nature, "and soon, seeing how long we have lived in peace. And when it comes, we will be sorely pressed."
Ulrealiac nodded, glad that at least one of his sons understood the need for a continued guard. "Yes, but if we are ready for it, we will survive. Now it is late, and you have a busy day tomorrow."
Ryun nodded and moved toward the stairs in the back that led to his room. Before he got there, a noise from the other end of the room caught his attention. Both Father and son turned to see Garum stumble back into the protection of the pine. Ulrealiac knew that his son had not had the time to make it to his post yet and wondered what could have turned him back. Then he saw the blood.
Ulrealiac rushed forward quickly to his son, catching him as Garum collapsed. With one glance at the deep wound and the pale face of the young elf, Ulrealiac knew Garum was only moments from death. "What?" was all he could think to ask. The wound had not been made by an arrow, or any of the other wooden weapons that existed in the village. It was a clean cut made by a high quality blade, something no goblin or orc would ever carry.
Garum only had the strength to utter one word, but it was the one word Ulrealiac had hoped he would never have to hear in his long life. "Drow," Garum croaked feebly and then died.
Ulrealiac gritted his teeth in anguish at the death of his son, but he knew he did not have the time to grieve now. The time for sorrow would come later, if ever, for when dealing with drow, nothing was for certain. Ulrealiac laid his son down gently and turned around to move toward the other end of the room.
Ryun was too far away to see the wound or blood on Garum's rain-soaked body, but the way in which he had collapsed into their father's arms and now lay motionless on the floor was not an uplifting sight. "Is he ..." Ryun started, but a quick glance from his father answered the unasked question. "Goblins?" he asked further, wondering if now was the time of the dreaded battle they both knew was coming.
Even as he asked the question, Ryun knew that could not be the case. He also had realized that Garum had not had enough time to reach his post, meaning that he had been attacked while still within the grove. Goblins would have never been able to breach the grove without an alarm being sounded.
"Drow," was all Ulrealiac said as he moved to a locked chest hidden in the inner branches of their tree.
"Will we push them back?" Ryun asked. He knew little of the drow. Thankfully, no one in the village, including Ulrealiac had ever seen a drow before. All they had were reports concerning other elven communities like their own that had been destroyed over the past few centuries.
"We will push them back," Ryun said this time, though the comment still carried a hint of questioning.
Ulrealiac had pulled the chest into the open and turned to look hard at his son. "You have not studied the drow because your studies have focused on the creatures of nature. Drow have nothing to do with nature and care nothing for its balance." With that he turned back to his chest. He opened it quickly and removed several items before he had revealed the object of his search.
Ryun had moved to stand next to his father and looked on with apprehension. "The sword? But you said that it was evil."
Ulrealiac too looked at the sword with apprehension. "No," he corrected, "I said it could easily be used for evil, and should therefore remained locked up."
Khazid'hea was the name of the sword, though it liked to refer to itself as "Cutter." Just the fact that the sentient weapon had thought to give itself a nickname showed more than anything else how advanced its consciousness was. The nickname had been necessary because its former wielder had been an orc chieftain, a race known to use a language in which even two syllable words were a rarity.
Khazid'hea had been very thankful when Ulrealiac had defeated the orc chieftain, thinking its fine cutting edge deserved to be wielded by someone as graceful and skilled as Ulrealiac had proven to be in the fight against the orcs. Upon the chieftain's defeat, Khazid'hea had altered its hilt from the one-eye visage of Gruumsh, the god of the orcs, to that of Corellon Larethian, the god of the elves.
As Ulrealiac picked up the sword, admiring the crescent shaped hilt, Khazid'hea realized he was in trouble. This was a wood elf, a race not known for their use of metal weapons. The sword thought about altering its appearance to represent Ehlonna, the goddess of the woodlands, or even the goddess Mielikki, but Ulrealiac did not give the sword even a hint that either one would make him wield the sword. Instead, Ulrealiac spent a short time discerning the weapon's nature and stowed in his pack.
As he now picked up the sword from the chest, he wondered if it was a wise course of action. The wooden weapons he possessed were of the finest quality and would stand up to any of their normal metal counterparts, but these were drow elves. They would be carrying enchanted blades that would decimate anything he owned. Still, if he were to die in battle and the sword fell into the hands of a dark elf ...
Ulrealiac did not get a chance to answer that question for the sound of someone entering his home interrupted his thoughts. He spun around to see Drillmick standing just inside the door. The drow smiled when he saw Garum's crumpled form on the ground. He had inflicted the death wound, and then Garum had slipped away from him.
The excitement of being so near a dark elf, made Khazid'hea nearly leap out of Ulrealiac's hand, urging him to battle. The recognition in Drillmick's eyes as the drow looked at Garum, told Ulrealiac that this dark elf was the killer, and he needed no extra urging from his sword.
Drillmick met the charge from the enraged father, turning his attacks aside easily. Ulrealiac held only one weapon, and Drillmick was able to turn the flow of battle quite easily. The surface elf was sorely pressed against the much younger, but better trained drow.
Ulrealiac ducked a high strike, and then hoped back as Drillmick's other weapon swept in from the side. Ulrealiac stood up straight, and stepped in to deflect the same weapon as it retraced its previous swipe in a backhand. This momentarily crossed up the drow, and Ulrealiac spun the other way and slammed his free elbow into his opponent's face.
Drillmick saw the move coming, and was able to turn in time so the blow only slid off his wet cheek, but it was enough of a blow to send him stumbling back a step. Ulrealiac underestimated how hard he had hit the drow and followed in quickly with two quick swipes of his sword. Drillmick saw this over-eagerness, and feigned to be off-balanced as he barely deflected the blows, leaving his side open for attack.
Ulrealiac took the bait and swung his sword chest high. Drillmick smiled as he agilely angled his torso so the strike would only glance off his fine chainmail and struck at the elf's vulnerable head. Khazid'hea did not make a habit of glancing off too many things, and the vicious blade cut easily through the drow's armor and deep into his side.
Drillmick recoiled in pain and surprise, and both of his high attacks faltered. Ulrealiac quickly slapped both weapons away and pressed his insurmountable advantage. Drillmick truly was stumbling away now, and as he took cut after cut, each one impossibly shredding his chainmail, he dropped both weapons. Ulrealiac finished it finally by thrusting Khazid'hea through the vile drow's heart.
Ryun had watched the entire encounter and was in shock. He had never seen his father fight like that before. In all the sparring sessions he had had with Garum, Ulrealiac had been the teacher, and while he had usually beaten Garum, he had only done so gently. The killing fury he had just unleashed on this invading drow was something else entirely.
As almost an after thought, Ulrealiac turned to look at his son. "If you want to maintain a natural balance here, then run."
"But I want to help," Ryun cried, though after watching Drillmick, he was seriously considering running.
"You can best help this village survive by surviving yourself. Run far away. Tell others what has happened here today and our grove will live on in you."
"But ..."
Ryun never got to finish his argument for another drow entered the room. Dantrag looked at Drillmick's body and cursed. He had read the reports from other patrol leaders who had led raids and knew that most were done without losing one drow warrior. He knew that most of those patrols only attacked smaller groups of elves and he was going against a much larger target, but that did not matter in Dantrag's mind.
As he stepped over Drillmick's body, he did notice the way his chainmail was sliced up like it was goblin-made. Dantrag looked at Ulrealiac carefully, taking special note of the fabulous sword the elf held. He would be careful.
Ulrealiac did not give this second drow too much time to contemplate the situation and came in hard again. Dantrag was easily three times the fighter that Drillmick had been, and the defeated drow had been better than Ulrealiac. Both Dantrag and Ulrealiac realized this huge skill difference right away.
The surface elf hopped and jumped away from Dantrag's unyielding onslaught. Ulrealiac knew he had defeated the first drow because Drillmick had been unaware of Khazid'hea's considerable edge. The older elf wondered if he would be able to catch Dantrag just as unawares, but he would first need to be able to go on the offensive, something that did not look likely.
In the face of such an overwhelming adversary, common sense told Ulrealiac to run, but there was one thing keeping him in the fight. Khazid'hea had also noticed the huge difference in skill between it present wielder and his opponent. If the sword could salivate, Ulrealiac's hand would be drenched by now. Never in its wildest dreams - and it had had many such fantasies locked in Ulrealiac's chest for over a century - did it think it would run into a fighter as skilled as Dantrag.
Just when it looked like Ulrealiac would run, Khazid'hea reminded him of Garum. This drow is the leader, it said, he is responsible for bringing this raiding party to your peaceful grove. Khazid'hea really had no idea who Dantrag was, but it sounded good. Garum is dead because of this one. Let me taste his flesh, and I will avenge your son.
Ulrealiac heard the thoughts of the sword clearly enough, and while they kept him in the fight for a little while, they held no real motivation, for he had already killed his son's murderer, and he knew he could not defeat this opponent. Khazid'hea realized this as well and tried a new strategy.
Your wife is upstairs, and your other son is behind you. After this drow strikes you down he will kill them as well. You must fight as long as possible to give them a chance to escape. I will help you to protect them.
This worked very well. Ulrealiac charged madly at Dantrag. The drow met the charge defensively, wondering what could have brought about such a drastic change in his opponent. The wood elf had done very little fighting up till this point, and had mainly danced about the room, avoiding Dantrag's blades. Dantrag had not rushed in to finish him off because he was wary Ulrealiac might be baiting him into a rush and had some magical counter prepared.
Now Dantrag recognized these new tactics as nothing more than the frantic attacks of someone who knew they were about to die and had nothing to lose. Dantrag obliged Ulrealiac, blocking the furious attacks and backing the desperate elf against the branches of his house so he would not be able to dance about anymore.
Ulrealiac worked Dantrag high, and the drow accepted the attacks, quickly catching them with one of his blades, and holding them long enough to counter with his other weapon. Ulrealiac tried to back way, but there was nowhere to go. Dantrag stepped back and came forward suddenly with both blades leading in the double thrust low.
The cross down was impossible with only one blade, and Ulrealiac would never have thought of it anyway. What he did think of in the split second it would take Dantrag to complete the move was that he was dead. Nothing could stop that now. What he also realized was that while both of Dantrag's weapons would be impaling his midsection, the drow's head would be unprotected. With Khazid'hea still high from his recent attacks, Ulrealiac swung his magical blade at Dantrag's neck.
Dantrag saw the swing coming, and also saw that if he continued with his own attack, he would not be able to block the deadly blow. Instead, Dantrag snapped both his arms straight, hurling his blades forward as he rolled backwards. Khazid'hea swept over Dantrag's tumbling form as both of the drow's weapons sank into Ulrealiac's gut, impaling him to his spine.
The drow came out of his roll and observed his handi-work. Ulrealiac stood straight, both of Dantrag's weapons quivering in his stomach in a "V." The dying elf still held Khazid'hea, and he threw it at Dantrag in one last effort to protect his family. The drow easily ducked the toss, but followed its flight in interest as it hit the hard ground and sunk halfway to its hilt.
The hilt now appeared as a demonic head with two ruby-red eyes. If the sword had known more about drow, it might have picked some representation of Lloth, but Dantrag would have retrieved the sword even if it had kept the goodly image of Corellon Larethian.
As Dantrag pulled the sword out of the ground, he was nearly overwhelmed by the psionic probing of the sword. He had never encountered a sentient weapon before, and the feeling of a second presence within him was very unnatural. Dantrag soon got the sword under control, and began to understand its true power.
Khazid'hea too began to understand its new wielder. Dantrag was a noble of the first house of Menzoberranzan. Since it understood things as Dantrag did, Khazid'hea shared the drow's idea that he was the best fighter in that city. It did, however, also understand that Dantrag was not without rivals. Who is Zaknafein, it asked, and when will we kill him?
Dantrag smiled as he held the sword in front of him, admiring its razor edge. "Soon," he said out loud, "very soon." As he retrieved his other two weapons from the now dead Ulrealiac, sheathing one of them, he remembered that there had been another elf in the room when he had entered. Ryun had long since disappeared.
Just as Dantrag was about to leave, he heard what he thought was a female voice coming from above. Seeing some unique stairs in the corner of the room, Dantrag followed the voice to the second level of the tree home.
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