High Elve of Red Hallow

CHAPTER 3: Fala

The young elve had not slept. She was practicing and still had to use battlemagic. It was a miraculous incantation created by the Master. Her nerves were raw, yet she felt the hardened screams of each soldier. Her mind was crystal clear through the Winds as they guided her hands. Her mind detached from her form, swept across the battlefield Forest of the Red, healing as spears of Men stung, the swords of Westerian and elve races clashed.

She felt every impact and death that could not be resurrected as Death Wanderers plowed through the blood-soaked front line.

She cried out and felt the ripping, tearing, slashing, and sawing through every chainmail, armor, muscle, and belly. Her blood was cold and she had gone numb. She screamed as she felt crushed under heavy shields and bootheels. 

She witnessed an elven warrior being stomped and slashed with a sword to the heart. A Westerian warrior pierced another elve and struck her chest with a rusty ax.

...and in all the chaos she was shocked at how simple it was, how easy it was to witness the dismemberment of throat, arm, and leg.

A sword struck again. No more thought, only bloodlust. A Westerian took aim with a steel arrowhead, then let go. He drew another white-feathered arrow and let it fly at an elven warrior who fell to the ground covered in blood--

One elven warrior named Kay'rsten knew his wound was bleeding much worse than he let on. Relying on adrenaline he turned to his squire, a young boy "Go ward! Do as we planned!" He deflected a sword thrust as the youth ran. Kay'rsten readied his sword once more and parried until his hands were raw meat. He had to be sure his opponent was dead, but the fourth blow had missed its target and when the Westerian somersaulted, the warrior elve took a slice to the knee and fell to his death--

The bodies piled on top of each other. The limbs reached the sky. Noise of clashing echoed through the forest. The girl watched as a Westerians shouted "ONWARD!" and charged into the fray.

Lances struck shields and she let it all happen as she feasted on the chaos, but a voice called her back to reality.

"Adept Priestess Fala of the birdlands!"

She was forced back into her body.

She shook herself and realized that she was in the fortress... The last stronghold of her people, the Hallow. The great main hall was massive and each of the seven geode pillars were surrounded by rocks.

Magical crystals illuminated every part of the cavern wall, and coated everything in an orange glow. The jeweled runes on the rock ceiling danced in a flickering light, while seven seats surrounded the room and Adeve, a lush magic sage fruit tree stood under the canopy of the cave.

A round ebony carpet divided the room in half from the entrance to the dark shallows, while ribbon banners with elaborate elven embroidery symbolizing a tree adorned the pillars. Between each banner hung a torch, which was lit to illuminate the seats for the elven Law Bringers.

A huge circular walkway of cobblestones ran around a deep concave in the ground filled with soil for the magic tree. The mound where Adept Fala stood was adorned with blessed concentration stones.

A priestess, healer, or master of any class could stand on the grand mound. When they did, they directed battles telepathically or psychically. The elves called it battlemagic. Yet, the mound was more for elven priestesses. It was covered with intertwined crests and fixed on the center was a slender pedestal.

"Are you with us, Fala?" A High elve asked.

"I am, master, but I...have been entertained. I have enjoyed the death, destruction, and the blood."