Landsbyen -Into the North- An Epic Poem 23
Erlenkönig knelt to the ground, his urge to destroy Reginn was strong but he knew it was one or the other. Rid yourself of Reginn or stop this coup. He chose to stop the take over and reached out with his mind. His power almost spent he found Bréagán.
“I need you,” he said. “Use your magic on mine before it's too late.”
With the last remaining strength he had Erlenkönig let loose a tremendous
burst of power. From his mind a pure blue-white light beamed into the crystal of his shaft which directed it straight up into the sky.
When Bréagán saw the light pierce through the top of the Keep he did not hesitate. He knew what he must do and cast his meager magic to combine with the Kings. Erlenkönig's power was so great that he thought he might lose himself within it. He had never experienced this kind of power, so strong and yet so pure, without anger, without animosity. He quickly wove an intricate stream through the length of Erlenkönig's magic, so careful as to be indistinguishable from his own. As the magics fused they became one and began to change in nature. The power of the King's magic started to expand until it became a mist that covered the entire island that the Village was built upon, slowly dissipating and settling gently to the ground.
Erlenkönig sensed when the magics met and felt instant relief. What happened next was out of his hands. He could do no more. His magic was spent. He found himself lying on the ground and he rolled over to look into the sky. He watched as if in a dream as the magic twisted and turned and engorged itself on itself as if it were a caterpillar just before it emerged into a butterfly. He felt the droplets of mist as they fell upon him and he smiled.
He glanced in the direction of Reginn and saw him intermittently giggling then cursing and shooting bursts of dark magic into the air. His two companions had come out of hiding and were laughing and stroking what appeared to be miniature horses that they held in their hands. Instinctively looking down the corridor he saw his two last adversaries being engulfed by the mist. They disappeared from his view but their laughter was loud and clear. Looking into the sky he could swear that the misty droplets were morphing. When the tiny particles of magical mist gathered tightly enough together they began to create, what appeared to be, children's toys, fluffy animals, bears and deer and rabbits, that floated softly to the ground, little dolls with bright button eyes and wide grinning lips. Toy boats made of soft balsa wood that he instinctively knew would really float, fell gently from the sky and so many other types of toys. He thought he was hallucinating. Then he heard someone yell,
“My King, Erlenkönig. Are you injured?” How strange it seemed with the uncharacteristic giggling that accompanied the question. He knew this voice and before he could respond he heard another familiar sound,
“NydeligEn, my love,” Aisling.
His life, nearly drained from him, began to come back. He felt Aisling lift his head and lay it in her lap. He glanced about to see Ceridfen wrapping magical
nets around the laughing Dark Elves including Reginn, whose fight had finally been drained from him.
“Lets move him to one of the corridors,” he heard DynDoeth say to Aisling.
She giggled, as they brushed the soft toys off of him and half carried and half
dragged him to the nearest hallway, the three remaining Dark Elves being apprehended a bit later, laughing and giggling so hard that they gave no resistance when Gwaldon and Obrynith rounded them up.
Copyright © James Inman | Year Posted 2021
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