Ilaera has a minion!

Phaeri the Tomahawk

Personality:
Ilaera is always in motion. She is not the type of elf that can sit and ponder the veins on the underside of a leaf for hours. She has the natural grace and strength of her race but is not at all haughty or full of herself. She cares for those animals she finds in the forest that are unable to see to their own needs, nurturing them back to health and releasing them. She guides lost travelers to safe paths with tricks of the light, watching from a safe distance as they enter the gates of her home town of Thenle. She wants no presents or words of thanks. She much prefers the solitude of the clearing she has turned into an archery range but she cannot turn her back on a cry of distress. She has been told by less compassionate kin that such emotions are a weakness of youth. She does not argue, for she is very young and the splendor of full-grown elves is intimidating. She resents that their majestic height dwarfs her own short frame. More than anything, she hates the shadows that threaten the land of Fenra and wants to find a way to rid the land of their presence, but she is afraid. She has a deep-rooted fear of the unknown and these shadows are like nothing her world has ever seen.

Appearance:
Her raven hair is neatly arranged with the help of a tonic made from passionfruit juice, fresh dew, and flower nectar. One strand hangs free, drawing attention to wide green eyes that can pick out the number of leaves on a branch thirty feet above her head. The red cape tied at her throat was assembled from tufts of wool gathered from wild sheep that seek patches of clover to graze in the heart of the forest. Its dye comes from crushed berries. Her cropped top and pants are made from the sap of the Rebur Tree. Its sap, when allowed to harden, takes on a rubbery texture that can retain almost any shape. No elf of Thenle would willingly kill an animal to wear its skin if there are other options available. The top supports small breasts that are a blessing to an archer. Her pants are slitted to resemble dappled sunlight on the trunks of trees. Her boots are leaf wraps that can withstand travel through streams and over rocky ground without losing their shape. Her bow is formed from the pale bark of the Elui Birch, a majestic tree that grows in only one small grove. The Eluin larks shed feathers of the same color, providing ample fletching for those elves deemed worthy of an Elui Bow.

Backstory:
The entire land of Fenra was once filled with beauty. At the time of Ilaera's birth, all the towns there were thriving, even those populated by non-elves. The trade roads were prosperous in a time when the dwarves showed off their glittering wares and men had sense enough to clasp hands and thank the visitor's gods (elvish, dwarven, mermish, or human) for a successful bargain.
The animals prospered as well. Great schools of fish swam in lakes so clear that one could almost count the pebbles at the bottom. Birds flocked to nesting grounds that had seen many generations of fledglings take their first flight. At times even predators and prey would call a wary truce as wolf pups frolicked around their new-found friend the fawn.
Perhaps the conjurer could say what his intentions were when he cast the spell that spelled Fenra's ruin.
The shadows lurch and creep over the ground, sickly shapes with oily fingers that seek to pluck at every living thing they encounter. They suck the color out of nature, leaving a white wasteland in their wake. They do not absorb the color, they merely devour it. Few animals were fortunate enough to reach the safe forest surrounding Thenle before the lands both wild and tame were overwhelmed.

*****

The first time Ilaera saw the shadows at work was from a great distance. Clinging to the hand of her mother, she watched in horror as lush green grass stiffened and grew brittle. The blades almost looked like they were coated in frost but their bases had no healthy hint of green to suggest they would recover with the coming of spring.
Her mother picked her up, running until they were within the borders of Thenle's protective ring. "Now you understand why you must stay within the circle, daughter. These creatures of corruption will continue to devour the world, but our magic is very old and powerful. They cannot breach the circle." "But Mama, what about the other people? The humans and dwarves, and our merfolk cousins of the sea?" Her mother's eyes narrowed. "They are corrupted, too. Look to our people, Ilaera." "Yes, Mama." Ilaera lowered her gaze so that the confusion in her eyes would not betray her inner thoughts.
A few days later, she had her first encounter with a human. The boy had been separated from his family as they attempted to flee the Black Death. He followed an illusion of a gold-winged bird, falling on a patch of wild strawberries with a cry of delight while the young elf above his head hid a giggle behind her hand. She used her powers to guide the boy back to his family, learning that they were fleeing the town of Aidur. A trio of gruff-looking dwarves served as perimeter guards, eyeing the trees with deep mistrust. They were stunned to see the boy as his mother embraced him. One removed a small silver ring from his finger, muttering a word of thanks in his native tongue to the good forest spirits. Ilaera gave it to a showy robin as a nest decoration.
She grew more and more restless as news of the destruction of Fenra came pouring in. The other elves simply didn't care. Their way of life would continue in the safety of the circle. Ilaera could not work up the courage to tell the Elvish Council they were doing wrong so she decided to become the best archer in the land and go seeking the shadows herself.
She practiced for many months, creating a range with dummies stuffed with leaves and willow rings which twirled and leaped at the slightest breeze. She practiced until she could not only hit evey target she aimed at, but score a perfect hit. Every direct hit was a shadow relinquishing its grip on an innocent life.
She was terrified to put her name forward for the Elui Test. Those master archers on the Gaming Committee stared at her in disbelief, unaware of the many hours of practice she had secretly taken part in. They granted her a slot, more out of boredom than anything. Bets were readily placed on whether she would manage to shoot the arrow at all and how far from the target it would land.
She was the only archer on the field with a perfect score.
She sang her bow from the Elui Birch with great pride and even the Supreme Archer grudgingly admitted it was a fine piece.
She spent weeks in the great scroll library but could find very little about the nature of the shadows. It was one rare subject about which the elves of Thenle were hapy to remain blissfully ignorant.
It was on a late night of research that the sound of a loud thud startled her. The hawk lay dazed, his wing bent at an odd angle. He waddled onto her outstretched hand, crying out at the pain in his wing. She sent waves of calm into his mind as she carried him back to her home.
He was not prideful like most hawks. He waddled around her tree home to protect his smarting wing, not caring at all that he looked undignified. He would even beg for strips of fish, though he would scoff at offerings of rabbit. He could catch his own rabbits, thank you very much. Almost without realizing it, she took to calling him Phaeri.

Story:
Elves rarely mark the passage of time, relying on their infinite patience when a quest proves difficult. This was true for Ilaera as she wandered the barren cities of Fenra, seeking crumbled tomes and carved tablets from which many of the letters had eroded away. She slowly formed a picture in her mind of the true nature of the shadows, one which sometimes woke her in the middle of the night, bow in hand. She now relied solely on traveling herbs as her source of food, unwilling to risk contamination by anything the shadows had touched. By wrapping the herbs in small pieces of meat, she tricked Phaeri into eating his share.
The barren acres of Fenra's open fields were a repulsive sight. Fields that had once been lush and fertile were now full of slender white stalks that crumbled to a chalky powder with each step Ilaera took.
She feared she would never be able to wash the powdered death from her skin. She took to the roads when she could. Mud was cleaner and more wholesome than the remnants of plants reduced to ash.
Phaeri shifted on her shoulder, blinking and ruffling his feathers. Sometimes he would take flight, allowing Ilaera to share the images of the landscape that flitted through his mind. The whiteness remained unbroken except where boulders jutted from the earth. The shadows had no interest in objects that contained no life.
Her shock at the sight of the town of Aidur nearly brought her friend down from the sky. He managed to correct his flight and land on a stone ledge nearby, scolding her in a series of harsh cries. She sent out a wave of calm reassurance, recalling him to her shoulder as she passed through the gate.
The gate guard, his uniform void of all color, was busy beating his head against a wooden post. Across the street, a woman kept trying to scrub a sheet against a washboard, unaware that almost all the water in the tub had evaporated. A farmer pulled at the dry udder of a cow, oblivious to the mound of dead flies that had filled his bucket in place of milk. The cow stared blankly into the distance, alive but motionless.
The people were trying in vain to complete those tasks they'd been working at when the shadows struck. Some had the same blank gaze as the cow though most had not yet come to a stop.
Ilaera shuddered and turned back toward the gate, nearly colliding with a withered old man.
"I thought sure if anyone came back here it would be those thieving dwarves. They eyed the treasures of our Great Hall, always going on about how the pieces of our lord's armor were of dwarvish make." Ilaera could only stare at the man, too stunned for the moment to speak.
Mistaking her silence for disbelief, he went on. "Oh yes, for all they claim to have skeletons of iron, they're as feeble as any of us under the Black Touch. I saw a pair standing at the edge of the mine, working their picks on a lump of granite. They just keep tapping the rock until it's reduced to gravel and then they pick at the dirt." He shot her a look through narrowed eyes. "I hear the elves aren't doing much better out in Ilduir. Not that they did much before all this. The whole lot likes to float in their little moonbeam world." He hacked a few times and spat on the ground, much to Ilaera's disgust. "You are the first man I've seen who isn't tainted by the shadows."
"Oh, so you do speak." He grinned, showing a few rotted teeth. "They didn't much like the taste of me. Too much bad blood. The physician down the street was always carrying on about how I was likely to drop over dead any day. Now he's swatting at the same fly he killed two days ago and I'm the one walking around."
"What can you tell me about the shadows?"
He shrugged. "You can see their effect. They go for anything that's alive, or used to be. You won't find one item made of wood that's not white as bone." He plucked at his pale tunic. "Clothes, too. This used to be red as that cape you wear. They took that much from me before they decided I wasn't worth the bother. It costs them energy to keep a connection with a life form which is why they don't bother with the dying. They've no brains as far as I can tell, just appetite. I heard talk they were seen hovering over the Conjurer's Tower in Deiphan just before all hell broke loose."
As much as she loathed the thought, she asked the man if he would like to travel with her. She could not leave a fellow creature in danger, not even a wretch who smelled of garlic. He laughed and waved the offer away, wandering off to find a good keg of ale. The next morning she found him lying face down in the street.

*****

Deiphan must have been beautiful once. Now its white marble walls were eerily similar to the vast stretch of ocean bleached white as the algae beneath the surface surrendered to the shadows.
The Conjuror's Tower was visible from five miles outside the town, looming over even the impressive mansion of the governor. Its ancient stones were darkened by the soot of thousands of spells cast by generations of magic-wielding men.
Deiphan's people stood in shabby rows, staring blankly out to sea. Ilaera had no choice but to walk between them. Stone statues could take no greater notice of her passage.
The stairwell of the Tower was thick with cobwebs on which bone-white spiders were frozen in the process of stalking ivory flies. The candles that had once lit the crumbling steps were burned down to nothing. Thin beams of sunlight breaking through cracks in the stone were Ilaera's only source of light.
The room at the top was small and musty. Thick tomes with leather bindings were crammed into bookcases on three walls. The fourth gave a view of the dead land below.
"It's quite a view, or at least, it used to be."
Ilaera put an arrow to the string, training it on the velvet-upholstered chair from which the voice had risen. Seated there was a skeleton dressed in an elaborate purple robe. A ghost with teal hair rose from the decaying skull, wearing an identical outfit.
"I'd offer my hand to shake but you'd only catch the shivers."
Ilaera stared at him for a long time, her foot tapping an impatient rhythm. He was not all that impressive. In human years, he would be about her age and he had scrawny limbs that reminded her slightly of a heron. "You are the Conjurer?"
He shrugged. "I was."
"Then you are the one who brought the foul shadows into the world."
The Conjurer rolled his eyes. "No, that was my evil twin. The one with the little horns in his hair. Of course it was me. I'm being well punished for trying to do good for once. I should've stuck to souring milk and turning people who annoy me into frogs and now my spirit is trapped here until I figure out a way to undo the damage." He flapped a hand in the direction of the window. "This is the opposite of the affect I was going for. You have to understand that some sounds are very tricky in the ancient tongue of Yderos. It doesn't help that the sky person I summoned was half deaf. Instead of benevolent spirits that would give life to the land, she sent me five thousand malevolent shades intent on sucking every drop of life force dry."
"If that is so, why are the people not dead?"
"Once the things make a connection, they try to make their hosts last. The life drain kills plants and insects almost instantly but the more complex the creature, the longer the body can withstand it. They will all die in time." He glared down at his skeleton with disgust. "I was the exception, as you can see. The shades were so excited to get a taste of human life that they drained me entirely of life and left this charming new decoration for my former abode."
Ilaera ignored his last comment, focused on the rows of people she could see from the window. "There must be a way to restore them to life."
The Conjurer's eyes had found Phaeri. The hawk had taken a sudden interest in a bust of the Prime Magician, flying up to take a perch on the bearded figure's head and leave a token of disdain. The ghost grinned.
"That old man could use a new look. It's dangerous to bring a pet on a mission like this, you know. I had a cat, a little silver tabby. She fled when the shadows burst through the walls. I never did learn what happened to that cat."
"Phaeri is as free as I am. He chooses to remain with me."
He shrugged again. "I suppose a set of eyes in the air would be useful." For the first time of their short acquaintance, he turned serious. "Are you sure you want to know their secret? You're taking on a task that will last a lifetime, even for an elf. Once they know you're hunting them, you will become their favorite target. If there's one thing a shade won't tolerate, it's a threat."
Ilaera swallowed hard. She was not at all sure she was ready for this, but she had vowed to kill the shadows and an elf cannot break a vow made in the light of the moon. "Tell me."
"The solution is simple. You must eliminate the first source of life." He jabbed a finger at the skeleton. "Shoot me through the heart and a gateway will be opened, one which will recall the evil spirits."
She did not hesitate. The shot was perfect, passing through the rear of the chair to bury its tip in a thick red book. The Conjurer's ghost shimmered, breaking into ethereal wisps that faded to nothing. His voice whispered in her ear, causing her to release an impressive string of curses.
"Did I mention I have a wicked sense of humor? You didn't really expect a journey like this to be that easy, did you?"
She formed a globe of light in her hand, illuminating the room. The Conjurer was nowhere to be found though his infuriating chuckles echoed through the tower. Phaeri ruffled his feathers in annoyance, stepping lightly to Ilaera's outstretched arm.
"Let's get out of here, Phaeri. We'll find our own way to kill the shadows." Phaeri bobbed his head in agreement.
Ilaera went to retrieve the arrow, not wanting to waste a perfectly good shaft if she could help it. The book dropped from her hands, springing into the air to hover a few feet in front of her. The page boasted of a concoction called Liquid Sunlight, a powerful potion capable of shredding through all forms of darkness.
The Conjurer popped into view at her side with a sigh. "My time at Academia Sorcerere was not entirely wasted, you see. Some of those books managed to survive late-night games of Dragon Snare to prove useful. Most of the ingredients you'll find in that cabinet to your left, though you must wait for the dawn to give body to the potion. I will talk you through the steps.

*****

It was impossible not to smile when looking at a vat of Liquid Sunlight. The Conjurer shrugged and called the result of three days of hard work passable. There would be enough to finish the task, if she was careful.
She raided his pantry, taking trays of biscuits and chunks of salted meat. She was careful to avoid spoiled food. Protection spells that kept the rats away had no effect on mold. Phaeri took to the sky the moment Ilaera stepped outside the tower. It did not take long to see her first target through his eyes.
The shadow was a weak one, left near the point of origin as a part of the chain that fed ribbons of life force to the strongest shadows leading the shade army.
The arrow dipped in cheery yellow liquid pierced the shadow's core. It died with a hideous screech, turning its sightless face in Ilaera's direction before its shape was blown away forever by the wind. In the town of Aidur a young girl blinked and rubbed her eyes, rushing forward to tug at the hand of her frozen mother. It would be a few more days, but soon she would receive the hug she desired.


Story by Pureflower