An Elven Gift

[Martok]

His mind wandered through the utter darkness of a void. Awareness and consciousness awoke like a spark. His first thought was that there was no pain, he was obviously dead. His last memory was of the band of orcs that had ambushed them and the battle that had ensued. Two of his comrades quickly fell to the deadly combination of arrows and dark magic the orcs had unleashed upon them.

He remembered being struck multiple times by the dark magic, wearing out his magical shield; and then the arrows struck him. The pain nearly drove him mad, yet he continued launching counter spells against the orcs. There were too many, easily outnumbering them four to one. It was only a matter of time. He remembered the orc mage looking directly into his eyes, but never saw the spell that obviously ended his life.

Ahead, a bit of light shined out among the endless void illuminating a path before him, almost beckoning him to approach. It was time to be at peace. He took a few steps, if one could actually walk in a complete void of black, towards the light. Pain erupted in his mind as if a great hammer had been thrown by a siege engine, striking him directly on the temple. It is not yet time! There is work to be done! The voice in his mind was thunder itself. He had heard that voice before, yet could not place it….

Call upon my power, and it will save you! The thunderous voice was overpowering. There was no choice to make; the voice was power absolute, and compelling. His thoughts tried to track down the source of the voice in his own mind; if he could only figure out where it had come from.

The sounds of battle erupted around him. There was no longer a void, but the brightness of the sun. He squinted his eyes in the blinding light and found himself on his back, left for dead. The arrows that had brought him down still protruded from his broken body. His stomach lay split open, his entrails hanging out to the side. Such pain!

Many a night in a tavern, he heard the stories of valiant warriors recall some great battle they had been in, and how they had been grievously wounded yet continued on with their fight shrugging off the pain. He was obviously no valiant warrior.

I can save you! You merely need to ask! The voice thundered in his head again, making him turn to his side and vomit blood, as well as some chunks of his own innards.

He could stand it no more, the pain was overwhelming. Save me! I beg of ye! In his mind, the words rang loud and true, yet to any that would have been listening; the words were muffled by the blood streaming from his mouth and gut.

The amulet around his neck began to shimmer and brighten. The blue gem in its center appeared as a swirling maelstrom of deep ocean water. He could feel strength enter his body again. The skin around his stomach began to close around his entrails. His body convulsed as it pushed out the arrows that had pierced him.

Of course! The amulet he wore around his neck was a gift from the great elf mage Brelyen. How strange he did not know of its power before! It was indeed a great gift, one that could bring him back from the very threshold of death! And to think, he sneered when it was given to him, thinking it a gaudy piece of elven jewelry.

His wounds were no longer fatal, yet he was still grievously injured. He struggled to his feet only to see another one of his companions fall to the ground, an orcish war axe protruding from his chest. He was too exhausted to recall any form of spell. The amulet had saved him only to allow him to die again! In almost an immediate response, his thoughts were again invaded by the amulet. You are too weak! I can not heal you any further. Allow me to help you and your companions live! Give yourself to me freely and I shall show you power incarnate! It is your only chance.

If he was thinking more clearly, he would have thrust down the amulet and taken his chances. He was long past the contemplative thought that would have been required to resist the amulet. The gem had been slowly exerting its will over the mage for many months ever so subtly.

Nodding his weary head, the mage released himself to the gem. The blue glow stopped, and turned blood red. The amulet fiercely at work, began placing strange spells within his head, ready to be called up by the mage. Such terrible and powerful magic! And it was so simple to cast!

The orcs had taken notice of him now, and swiftly turned their attention to the man they had thought felled. Bowstrings twained and fireballs exploded in front of him, striking an invisible barrier. Such a wonderful spell! The weaving of that magic was simple, yet by no means the orcs possessed would that barrier fall.

Holding up his hand he whispered a few words towards the orc archers and watched in glee as white flames erupted from their eyes and screaming mouths. Yes, that spell would indeed cause one to scream. An orc mage looked on at his companions in horror as their bodies burned with white-fire from the inside out.

Tapping his chin with his forefinger, the man thought which new spell the amulet had provided him would best deal with the last few remaining orcs. Reaching his hands to the heavens, a whiff of air surrounded the orcs. The cloudlike whiff of air circled them, and then disappeared.

Sneering in victory, the orc then prepared his counter spell. Before he finished, his body imploded, leaving it inside out, and wriggling upon the dirt. One by one, each orc fell to the same dark fate.

Triumphant, the man walked over to the remaining companions he had traveled with. Holding up a finger, their wounds instantly closed, leaving them feeling refreshed. He did not even look at them as they stared at him in astonished awe.

Reaching down towards the two dead dwarves at his feet, he breathed blue flames down into their faces. In the time it took him to straighten his back, both dwarves drew breath! They had been completely healed!

“No magic can do that! This much I be certain!” the astonished dwarf mumbled to the other as they watched their fallen companions once again draw breath.

“He say he being a mage, yet he works spells more like a cleric of legend!” agreed the other.

Helping the two newly resurrected dwarves to their feet, he smiled at his own folly. How could he not have known the power that hung around his neck all these long months! He had the power to destroy any mortal, no, perhaps even a god!

Yes, together we are powerful indeed! The gem spoke to him, no longer in the thunderous voice that had brought him back from the brink of death, but in a soothing and reassuring tone. You need me, as I need you. I will aid you, let my wisdom guide you! Smiling to himself, the man nodded his head, his will utterly broken by the amulet he wore around his neck. The once light blue gem was now a deep red. Perhaps red was not the right description for its new color. If there was ever a color between red and black, that is how it would be described.

There are many magical artifacts in the realm, each with its own varying power and abilities. The more powerful artifacts are rare indeed. Rarer though, are those items which are cursed.

The muddy ground never touched the mans' feet as he glided mere inches above it, following his companions away from their scene of battle, lest it attract additional unwanted attention. The dwarves he traveled with occasionally looked over their shoulder at him, wondering who he was speaking with.

And now you must do something for me, soothed the gem...... The thunderous voice was back.