To take the Heir

The coach bounced as its wheels hit a rut in the paving stones of Falconwing Square. Pulled by a pair of brightly colored hawkstriders equipped with golden harnesses, it moved slowly towards the fountain near the center of the square. Within the coach, the three occupants rocked with the movements of the carriage around them. The two older Sin'dorei smiled as they watched the flame-haired three year old happily bouncing on the cushioned seats. The little girl looked happily out of the windows, watching the scenery pass with excitement.

They had just come from one of the Sanctums deep within Eversong, and all of the magical testing performed on the girl continued to verify that she was not only amazingly gifted with magic, but that she would one day become a very powerful Magistrix if she was properly trained. Happy with the results, the two senior apprentices had agreed to let the young girl 'visit her grandfather' within the ruins of Silvermoon. The coach was well guarded, and the day was bright and cloud free; perfect for sight seeing.

It was because of the beautiful, lulling day perhaps that the guards and the apprentices within the coach didn't see the attack coming until it was far too late. Elves sprang from magical concealment on either side of the path, showering the lead guards with arrows and striking the hawkstriders pulling the coach. As the guards fell, mortally wounded, several spellblasts flickered out towards the rearguard, felling several of the Sin'dorei watching over the coach. Within the conveyance, the little girl screamed as one of the two apprentices hunched over in agony, her body transforming into the shape of a harmless sheep as she was hit with a polymorph spell.

The second apprentice whipped a wand from her belt, hurling deadly magic out of the open window of the carriage. Explosions rocked the square nearby and an arrow struck the woman in the arm. She fell back into the carriage, crying out in pain. The little girl curled into a fetal position on the cushioned seat, hugging her knees to her chest and touching a bracelet on her arm. Through her tears, a few words could be heard.

"Mommy! Mommy help! They hurt! Mommy!" Astariel Dayfire cried.

Her bracelet began to glow red.

********************

The elves in the square advanced cautiously on the stopped coach. They knew the apprentice within had not been slain, and her spells had struck several of them before an arrow had forced her to withdraw. With swords drawn, they stepped across the debris covered red stones, intent on finishing their task.

Along the skyline of distant Silvermoon, a thunderous rumble could be heard. Several of the elves paused, looking up at the noise. Far away, one of the slender spires near the Court of the Sun rocked as a piece of it exploded outward. A trail of glittering frostfire sped across the sky, almost like a comet see in the night, the force of its power blackening the exterior of the spire as the strange display arced towards Falconwing Square at incredible speed. The attackers looked at the strange sight in curiosity, not understanding the nature of the glow.

They had only seconds to wait as Biara Dayfire's hippogryph plummeted from the sky. It struck the paving stones of Falconwing Square hard enough to slay it instantly, and Biara herself tumbled free from it, rolling into a crouch and raising one hand up, pointing towards the elves menacing the coach.

"BELORE!"

A gigantic ball of frostfire flared into existence in between the elves and the coach containing Biara's daughter. Magic crackled and flares of burning hot and icy cold energy rocked the square all around the orb. Elves screamed as their flesh was burned and then frozen solid. They tried to dive out of the way, only to have tendrils of the energy chase them to the ground, slaughtering them.

A hail of crossbow fire flickered into the air towards Biara, and she rose from her crouch and shouted out words of power. Her actions were desperate, the burning need of a mother to defend her child to the death, and the magic she summoned not only hurled the incoming bolts away from her, but tore huge gouts of paving stones from the ground. They orbited her, like an angry swarm of bees even as freezing cold winds frosted the ground in front of her. With a flick of her hand, dozens of razor sharp shards of paving stone flew outwards, striking assailants and cutting them down where they stood.

All but a few of the attackers died in the first seconds of Biara's onslaught, but one in particular stepped forward, his hands coming together in mock applause as he eyed the still-floating cloud of debris around Biara with disdain.

"Well done Magistrix," he said snidely. "I see that you are as much like your mother as we expected you to be. What are you going to do, slaughter everyone here and your own child in a fit of magical rage? How fitting to do so within sight of the statue behind you."

Biara's eyes met his blue ones, and she stared in shock.

Blue eyes! Quel'dorei!

"What do you want Archmage?" she replied in a hiss. "Did you really think I would allow you to touch a hair on my daughter's head? I will rend every last bit of you apart, and then I will call your spirit back so that you can live in unending agony for daring such a thing!"

The elf, who was clearly a mage of the Silver Covenant in Biara's eyes, actually laughed. "Ah, so very arrogant you are. Do you really think we care at all about your daughter? Perhaps she should be somewhere that she can be raised properly, yes, but this isn't about that. We know what you are making. You will not be permitted to continue your work."

A few of the stones in the air clattered down to the ground with cracks as Biara stared at the Quel'dorei in confusion. "Making...? You let all of these people die, and I've no idea what you are even referring to..."

The Quel'dorei's smile fled his face and he swept his hand in a throat cutting gesture. "Enough! We know you are creating a mana bomb, and we will put a stop to it here and now!"

"A...mana...bomb..?" Biara replied in utter shock. She had no time to react though as two new elves materialized next to her foe, as if from thin air. She gasped as she realized they must have been concealed with potions of invisibility. In unison, the two Quel'dorei began to chant, and Biara felt a burning surge of magic around her. Stones rained down to the ground and the blowing chill wind ceased as she began to feel excruciating pain.

They were burning her mana away!

"NO! You won't have her!" Biara shouted, but she could feel her magic draining, her spells failing as she was assaulted by two priests at once. She stumbled back, her spells faltering as the priests continued to focus on her. In desperation, she drew a spellblade, holding it up to defend herself.  

The Quel'dorei laughed, "What will you do with that little bitch? Stab us? It's over. You've walked into our trap and without your magic, you will come with us and so will your daughter. We'll MAKE you answer our questions."

The elves began to advance towards her, the priests still chanting and channeling their spells to burn away her magic. Biara leveled her blade at them, knowing she would fight to the death for the sake of the child in the coach behind her. Her eyes narrowed in resignation. "So be it."

*********************

The knife tumbled end over end, its balance perfect, its aim exquisite. It passed so close to Biara's head that Alanth imagined she probably heard the sound of it cutting through the air. Quicker than sight, the blade sprouted from the neck of one of the priests like a deadly flower coming into bloom. The Quel'dorei gurgled, grasping at his neck and falling to the ground, his lifeblood soaking his robes.

Alanth began to sprint, knowing he had little time as the elves behind the Archmage began to move forward, some picking up their crossbows to reload. He picked up speed, reaching out and grasping Biara's arm, using her body weight to propel himself forward.

She twirled, her red hair spinning past him and a look of utter astonishment on her face as he used her as a counterweight to leap towards the priest and Archmage before her. One step. Two, and then he disappeared, the shadows engulfing him and transporting him behind the second priest. A blade flashed, and she screamed as it struck her vital organs from behind, crumpling towards the ground; another victim too slow to comprehend his speed, his utter deadly perfection.

A quick glance showed him a curious sight. Biara had a knife in her hand, and looked as if she was going to engage in physical combat with the Archmage. After a second's pause, a hand went up to her neck where a rather expensive piece of jewelry hung, and as her fingers brushed one of the gemstones on the piece, it melted away, power flowing from it.

A mana stone!

Alanth grinned, knowing that this Archmage was about to have a very bad day now that the priests were eliminated. It was time to even the odds. As the few remaining elves with crossbows brought their weapons up, he threw a small packet towards them. Made of paper, it struck the ground between them and him, errupting into a huge cloud of smoke that billowed outward, concealing him and spoiling their aim. A few blundered into the cloud, swords drawn as they coughed.

Alanth slipped into the concealing smoke, and the killing began in earnest.

Blades flashed, elves screamed and died, and bolts flew haphazardly through the concealing smoke. Alanth dodged and parried, his weapons an extension of himself, inseparable from their user. Despite all his misadventures, despite his cheesy pickup lines and the way he kept himself just barely acceptable to the women he chased after, there was nothing to compare to the smooth efficiency of the Sin'dorei when he was hunting prey. What challenged him died before his blades. Strokes meant to end his life fell on nothing. Blows meant to slow him down only made him move faster, become more deadly as he dodged them.

As the smoke cleared, Alanth No'telyle stood alone, eight dead Quel'dorei lying in their own gore around him, a master of blades incomparable to the fools who had dared to challenge him.

He looked up to see how Biara fared, and his breath caught in his throat.

**********************

Magic. It flowed from the managem and into the Magistrix. Only a trickle, a brief taste of what she wanted. She needed so much more. They had drained her almost completely. The Archmage looked at her with a smirk, speaking a word and speeding time itself around him, making him faster, more deadly. He would slaughter her if she didn't do something.

She spoke a single word, and her Blink spell catapulted her through space, relocating her directly before the other elf.

Her slim body slammed into him, and would have rebounded if it had not been lead by the spellblade in her hand. It plunged into his chest, and his eyes widened in disbelief of the fact that she had physically attacked him instead of using spells. He tried to speak, and no words came from his jaw as it worked up and down.

The mage crumpled, and Biara, still holding her knife, fell atop him. She straddled him, her blade twisting in his flesh and watched the agony on his face. Agony met only by the thirst inside her that the draining of her power had caused. With her free hand, she reached out, pressing her palm to his chest and using her magic to grab at his waning power. It flowed into her, a flood of energy that was everything of the other elf. She shook in obscene pleasure, her back arcing before she leaned down to whisper in his ear.

"Pure arcane! You are so delicious!"

His eyes stared blankly above her, seeing nothing as she took the last of his magic, the last little spark of his life energy into herself. Still shuddering with the pleasure of it, she released her hold on the knife, the dead assailant beneath her nothing to her now. She looked up, her eyes a flickering and eerie light blue, and saw Alanth staring at her in shock.

She rose slowly, still shaking from what had just happened, her senses feeling everything around her. Her daughter in the coach. The magical enchantments on the dead lying around her. The beat of Alanth's heart as she stepped closer to him.

"I owe you a very special thank you for saving my daughter's life," she said quietly. He looked at her like she was a little crazy, which considering what she'd just been doing, probably made sense. She smiled, reaching up and gently kissing him, her lips light against his. Frost formed on his skin briefly and he shook his head as she backed away, her touch alluring but also disturbing.

"I will repay you for this one day, but first I must get her to safety."

Biara turned and walked towards the coach, her daughter bursting out of it and rushing to her arms in tears. With one last look at Alanth with her eerie blue eyes, Biara chanted a few words and she and her daughter were gone, teleported back to her spire, leaving the wreckage of the battlefield behind.

Alanth blinked and began to clean his daggers on the clothing of the archmage, muttering to himself. "That is one crazy bitch..."