Corruption

Nalior walked farther into the darkness of the forest. He required no lantern, as he navigated with senses other than sight, and the attunement he honed during his time in the Reformed College of Sorcery revealed faint pathways of shimmering light; whenever he saw them, he thought of them as inevitable pathways.  He had long before left the safety of the College and the luxury of the court in the Imperial City, but the fate of the Empire was resting in his hands. In this regard, Nalior mused, the there was too much to be gained.

     

                 When finally he reached a clearing within the forest, he paused. The forest was vast, and much of it was unexplored. Anuire, however, had so few forests, and all of them were dwarfed by the forest of Thuarviel. Some considered it the master of the rest, and many commoners refused to enter the forest’s borders, claiming they feared the demons* that dwelled within. How wise they were. The armed forces could keep the forests relatively safe, so the main dangers to the people were wolves and other wildlife, but to a Master of the Magical Arts, this was the only place where his power was strong enough to maintain the contact he required. Distance was no issue, but to use the spells he intended, he would need a strong connection to the origin of the power. The power of the mebhaigl flowed strong and abundant within the ancient elven forest. The mystical power of the source of this forest was at this disposal, it was all he needed for now.

 Lord Nalior Fenevor sat in the middle of the clearing and began an incantation. He never moved his lips, but flaming script erupted in his mind’s eye, and above his head a small whorl of red energy began to form. He was the master of Conjuration and he knew summoning beings required total and uninterrupted concentration. The creature of the Dark had answered. From the expanding circle of energy, a deep voice boomed: “I am intrigued by your proposal. Seaharrow, burning? How the mighty have…”

“Enough, spawn of Darkness,” Nalior commanded, more forcefully than he had intended. “My servant will not stop once it has its way with the Empire, and it cares nothing for your meddling attempts at usurpation Lord Fevenor. There is nothing to stop the Mouth of Darkness. I am prepared to give you what I have promised.”

 The Spawn of Shadows laughed cruelly, and the a creature began to swarm more intensely out of the shadows. “Very well, brave Master. Keep in mind when you ‘save’ your Emperor’s holdings with this , that not even I can control it completely.”

 Lord Fenevor rose to his feet and stepped back several paces to face the growing portal. “You, Shadow,” he stated simply, his voice seeming to echo throughout the forest, “despite your power, are not a Master of the Arcane.” Nalior removed the scroll from his robe and read aloud a single word.