High Elve of Red Hallow

Chapter 1: Transmutation

For a few days, Nomad had set up camp near the Tannik River. He hadn't wanted to leave. Most people didn't want to. He was an interesting elven traveler making his way around the land of Fonde Ssique.

He was dressed all in white and exuded a strange but natural charisma. The people who had visited Tannik gave him the name Nomad, and it had stuck. For a nomad was always on the move. However, this nomad stayed a while longer waiting, like he was expecting a friend.

The area was stunning, tranquil, and inviting. The air was fresh and invigorating. The crispness of the morning combined with the calmness of the approaching afternoon. The Tannik River flowed just a few steps away and behind him were the gates of Crenith.

It was the river that brought Nomad to the other side, to the realm just before the land where all evil lies.

He sat quietly admiring the sacred river surrounded by tall white columns at four corners. The water was very beautiful. It was almost clear. All was calm and peaceful. The water forked out of the river and fell into a waterfall leading out towards the Crystal Sea. The trees danced gently in the breeze. A few birds perched on a weeping willow. Yes, Tannik was a respite for the weary. This was a sacred place of change and purification, a symbol of life and death. Tannik flowed through the valley that separated most of the lands. The elve was so calm that he barely felt the arrow fly close to his ear. It had buried itself in a tree. The arrow was green and beautiful, but it had an etched leaf on it, a symbol of Westerian. It had come from across the river. A man stood staring through a green hood.

"The next won't miss!" he shouted.

"Why should it?" replied Nomad.

"Because you killed Eddipus!"

"There is some truth in what you say."

The hooded figure raised his bow, drew the string, and took aim. The small, shiny green arrow whistled as he let go and It flew toward Nomad.

He felt the soft wood of the arrow in his hand.

"The arrow," the hooded man said. "You caught my arrow."

It was true, Nomad held it in his hand. The head was inches from his eyes.

"Very nice craftsmanship."

"Enough small talk, Jezzaul."

The hooded man charged across a nearby bridge and lunged at Nomad. He brandished the arrow like a knife. It was not his only defense, for his sword was at his side. He felt that the arrow was a quick means.

He stood up and faced the hooded man.

"Come to me, Val."

The hooded man, Eddipus's old friend, and confidant, was out for revenge. Val stepped forward and grabbed the arrow from Nomad. He threw it into the river and struck him on the cheek with a closed fist.

"Fight me."

Nomad was silent. Val looked down at his sheathed claymore.

"Why do you have Eddipus's sword?"

"Because it isn't his anymore." he began to laugh. The laughter was deep, soft, and joyful.

"You're crazy."

"Anyone in their right mind would be crazy traveling with people like you."

"Og should have killed you."

"He did." Nomad laughed again.

Val's eyes lit up with fear as he turned and ran.

"Where are you going, my friend?" Nomad stepped forward, still laughing.