*CONTINUATION OF ELVENFAIR AND YOU'VE HAD YOUR FUN*
Stephen froze. “Put them on, boy! Now!” Gyrin commanded, and shoved him towards the back of the hut. “One look at your eyes from whoever be at the door, and ye’re a dead man!” The boy nodded and started fastening the cloak around his shoulders. The hat next, and the door burst open.
Two large men in black clothes stood, one in front of the other, in the door frame. “Where is ‘e?” one demanded. His brow creased in anger. Gyrin shrugged, and made a motion behind his back for Stephen to get out.
“I don’t know, good sirs. Who might ye be lookin’ for?” the pirate said, covering his Slovenian accent once more. Stephen edged out of the room slowly.
“Yew know who I mean! The Elven . . . Oi!” the second one shouted. “Get back in here, boy!”
Stephen’s eyes darted back and forth, looking for a way out of the situation. Seeing no other option, he walked carefully back into the room, shielding his face as best he could with the cloak’s cowl. Thinking fast, he said out loud, “Who’re they lookin’ fer, Dad?”
Gyrin played along. “They haven’t told us, lad. Thereby and for, they’ve no right to be gettin’ angry at an old man and his boyo,” he complained to the men in black. “Now why don’t ye scoot on out of me house?” His accent was returning.
Both of the offenders looked confused. “But, Urade, we heard somebody yell . . .” he started, but his companion interrupted.
“Take that there hood off, boy,” he ordered. Stephen hesitated. “Now!” Stephen lowered the hood, but his hat still blocked his eyes. “Hm. Hair’s normal.” The man paused. “Wait, now. What’s that?” he asked, and covered the distance to Stephen in three long strides, and the boy shrunk back.
The man’s eyes picked out a few strands of white peeking out from below the brim of Stephen’s hat. He wrenched the cloth head-covering off. “Oi!” Gyrin protested. Stephen had shut his eyes. “Hands off me son!”
“If he’s yer son, what the devil is wrong with his hair?” the other man asked. A large portion of the right side of Stephen’s head was covered with silver hair.
“Open yer eyes, Tylien, or my little blade here might find your throat,” Urade threatened. Stephen’s eyes snapped open. A dagger was at his throat. “Mhm. Ye’re comin’ with us, Elvenfair.” Suddenly, Stephen’s eyes stared deep into Urade’s, transfixing him with their brightness.
“What’re ye doing? Stop that!” Urade’s companion cried.
Stephen blinked and looked away. “What?” he asked, confused. Urade fell over, asleep. “Oh . . . that.”
“That’s it! You and the old man are comin’ with me!” The man slapped Gyrin across the face, and the pirate fell to the floor with a yell.
“Don’t touch him! He saved my life!” Stephen screamed, and thrust his medallion forward. He’d taken it off, and now he felt that same tingle of magic move through his hands. A bolt of white light flashed out of them at the man’s eyes.
“Argh!” the man screeched, and fell to the floor, completely blinded. Gyrin scrambled to his feet and drew a sword, pushing Stephen back towards the garden.
“Put that medallion back on and let’s git outta here! Me boat’s in the cove, we should be able to . . .” he started, but paused to snatch something from a closet. More than one something, in fact, in a large bag. “. . . be gone in just a few minutes.” Stephen followed the pirate out the back door and over the fence. The man was surprisingly agile for his alleged age.
They dashed past the grabbyt holes and the garden. Stephen thought he saw a furry head pop out with a smug look on its face, but didn’t stop to look. Down a rocky hill, with a grey sky overhead, they came to a halt in a small harbor. A pier led out onto the cove. At the end of it was tied a strangely sleek fishing boat, similar to a sailed skiff, with oars and sail set to move already. “You were ready for this,” Stephen murmured, amazed.
Gyrin started to untie the boat as Stephen jumped in and started pulling in lines and anchor. “Ye obviously have an idea of what ye be doin’, lad!” the older man commented as he climbed aboard the ship. Shouts started coming from behind the house. “Hellsteeth, ‘tis time to move! Full sail, Whyplash!” he cried.
Stephen let loose the sheets. The canvas snapped open and the skiff-like vessel took off towards the open sea, leaving behind the furious cries of more men in black. “Haha!” the Elvenfair crowed, shaking his fist at them. “Ye won’t catch me!”
Once they were out and moving at a fast clip away from that side of Devian, Gyrin lashed the rudder in place and let them move with the wind. “Alright, laddie, where did ye say we need to go?” the pirate asked.
“Aye, then that’s where we be headed! Now, we’ll be needin’ weapons if everybody there is like to them back in Devian!” Gyrin pulled out the sack he’d brought aboard and emptied it onto the bottom of the boat.
Stephen gaped. Weapons and armor covered the deck, as well as clothes and a few tins of what he could only assume was food. Or poison. He chuckled at the distinct difference between the two.
Gyrin pulled out two of the weapons, and a few pieces of clothing. The weapons were a cutlass and dagger. He tied a bandana around his head. “Ah, that feels a mighty deal better!” he exclaimed as he tucked the pirate weapons into a sash. “And these look right for ye, lad,” Gyrin added as he handed the majority of the armor to Stephen. “Fairen-make. These be the weapons of choice of yer people.”
The armor consisted of only smooth pieces of some golden metal: arm-guards, breastplate, greaves, a helmet, and some sort of . . . fine chain mail tunic. No weapons, all blunt and harmless, though sleek. “Weapons? It’s just armor!”
“Armor made from cesla, the hardest metal in the world. Only mined in Tylien. I coulda sold this stuff for thousands of raqas, but I kept it. Don’t know why. Anyhows, put it on. It can only be worn a’right by an Elvenfair,” Gyrin explained. Stephen slipped the tunic on, then a belt, the helmet, breawstplate, arm-guards, and finally, the greaves.
“It’s too big --” he started, but stopped as he felt the armor . . . tightening. It seemed to suck down to fit his build and height. “Never mind,” he muttered. “But still, what weapons?”
“Enchanted, you grubswiper. Watch!”
Before Stephen’s amazed eyes . . . nothing happened. “Oh. Held on a sec, there’s something written there. On the right armguard,” Gyrin suggested. Indeed, there were some CommonSpeech runes. “What does they say?”
“Hang on. They say . . . Be thou Elven? If so, then this armor should help you immensely. It may only be enchanted by one of the blessed. Therefore, if thou wish to use it correctly, here is what thou must do:
“If it has been worn before, it was most likely enchanted before to meet another’s needs. To erase this enchantment, send your power into the armor. You will need to overpower the previous strand of power before starting your own. Then, enchant a maximum of two items of armor. More than this would reflect too much power upon your body. Enchantments are not restricted to one’s element. Well, that’s a lot of words that I don’t understand!” Stephen said decidedly.
“Aye, but did you understand enough?” Gyrin asked, somewhat worriedly.
“Aye, I think so. Here, let me . . .” he started, taking off his medallion and placing it on the armor, which he’d taken off. “I have to overpower the previous enchantment? I’ll just focus, then . . . I guess. I mean, that’s what I did with that light thing back there.” He touched both hands to the armor set. “The only question is, which pieces did the last owner enchant?”
Stephen moved his hands around, touching each piece individiually, until he felt a tingle of magic emenating from the chain mail tunic itself. “Found it!” he crowed, and brought out the tunic from underneath the other cesla pieces. “Now, I guess I just put this here, and focus again.” The Elvenfair moved his medallion to the tunic and put both hands on top, closing his eyes. He could feel the opposing enchantment there, almost as a tangible object. It was large. In fact, it was pushing him away! “No, not this time! What did it say? My element!” he muttered to himself, and poured images of fire and light into his efforts, for that was what had worked last time. The opposite power started to recede. “It’s working!” he exclaimed.
“Keep it up, lad!” Gyrin encouraged him. Stephen pushed harder, beads of sweat breaking out on his forehead. Finally, gripping the tunic in both hands, he sent a surge of fire through the medallion and his hands, throwing the other Elven’s enchantment off completely.
“Wooh!” he shouted. “It’s gone! And from what I can tell, he didn’t think to enchant another piece. Also, I’ve discovered my element! Or, I think I have. Did you know about that?”
“Aye, lad, I had an idea or two. I’ve only seen them Elvens usin’ one kind of magic at a time,” Gyrin said, nodding. “Now, can ye enchant it yourself?”
“I think so . . . just let me catch my breath.” Stephen laid down against the side of the boat, but as he did, his eyes caught something strange. He leaned over and picked up one of the arm-guards. It had a long slit down the center, not where it should be, about half an inch thick. “What’s this?”
“Oop, forgot to tell ye. Elvenfairs have one more difference from humans, ye see. Ye’ll figure it out in time,” Gyrin said knowingly.
Stephen rested for another couple minutes, then sat up. “Okay, I’m going to try this again. I think I’ve got the right enchantment, too. Popped into my head a couple seconds ago,” he commented, and sat up again. The armor he chose was the left arm-guard, the one without a slit, and he set it down in his lap. With an image firmly fixed in his mind, he began the enchantment process once more.
When it felt like he was finished, he release the arm-guard and medallion. “Did it work?” he wondered aloud. “I guess there’s only one way to find out.” Stephen gingerly picked up the newly enchanted armor and slipped it onto his arm.
It instantly burst into flames, crawling up his hand and arm. “Yes!” he shouted, exuberant. Gyrin backed away from the fire, fear in his eyes.
“Boy! What were ye thinkin’? Ye could set fire to the boat!” he cried, panicked.
“Don’t worry, it will only harm those who I believe to be enemies. Part of the charm,” he added with a grin on his face. Gyrin wiped his forehead as Stephen waved the fire around the boat, doing no damage. “No worries, see?”
“Aye, but it unsettles the mind of a sailor to see a fire aboard. What else are ye going to do?”
“I’ve got one more idea. Hand me the helmet, please?” Gyrin tossed the golden headpiece to Stephen. It fit around his head snugly, and a piece protected the wearer’s nose, and Stephen imagined it would frame long silver hair quite nicely. “Medallion?” The bronze item flashed through the air.
This time was harder, since the enchantment wasn’t constrained to the armor itself, exactly. The enchantment had to be push around the entire piece, and this was difficult. Finally, though, it was done. “What’ve ye done this time?” Gyrin asked sarcastically. “Going to make a storm appear?”
“No, you’ll find out soon enough,” Stephen chuckled. “It doesn’t work right now.” Gyrin looked confused, but the younger man ignored it and put all the armor back on.
“I guess this is who I am now,” he said to himself. “I don’t know where my father is, my mother’s gone, and so is my living. I’ll get this medallion to Opal, and once I’ve figured out what to do with it, I’ll go to Tylien and figure out what to do from then on. Anyhow, I look really fantastic in this armor and clothes, so might as well keep it on.”
He had no idea what was coming.
I love fiction, fantasy, roleplaying, and reading. Nice to meet you too. All of my tales are little kid-friendly, except perhaps a few stories in the Rogue Captain universe. Those are more geared towards teens. Check with your parents, just in case.