Chapter 537 — The Elves
Blade of Dawn · Page 1 of 4
On the continent of Loren, the Duchy of Cecil was not the only realm watching the stirrings of the Great Wall.
Beyond the vast, boundless wastes of Gondor, beyond those dark and twisted jungles and the lands corrupted and transmuted, in the warm south of the continent, upon the mountain ranges and the endless forests, the effects of the Great Wall's unrest were felt with particular unease.
For between the Kingdom of Highridge and the Gondor wastes there was no natural barrier such as the Dark Mountains.
This kingdom in the south of the continent had been founded by southern exiles of the old Gondor Empire; with the elves' aid, the exiles had raised a new realm among the mountains, and for seven hundred years thereafter it had been deeply shaped by elven culture. Through long years of accommodation, adaptation, trade, and intermarriage, the kingdom had grown exceedingly close to the Silver Empire farther south; and because of the practical influence of the Great Wall, the northern borderlands of Highridge, which lay nearest the Gondor wastes, were in effect governed jointly by elves and men—the two races working as one to forge the endless "Sea of Forest Line" as a defense against the threats borne out of the wastes.
Here, centuries of mutual dependence and the concrete menace of the wastes had bound the two nations wholly together.
Within Watchtower No. 1 of the Sea of Forest Line, Ranger General Lomarr stood before an oval window, gazing out at the barrier front to the north—the vast, unending green sea of forest stretched away before his eyes, the magic-bearing ancient trees swaying their branches and leaves in the invisible wind of magic, so that a layer of emerald waves seemed to drift upon the forest sea; and far off at the very edge of the horizon, the energy barrier of the Great Wall flickered with an unsettling brightness, while a deep rolling of wind and thunder swept across the forest sea and reached the Ranger General's ears.
He turned and looked toward the main console in the hall. "What is the situation at the front?"
The hall was oval, and the main console stood at its center; rows of silver-white light-alloy cylinders were arrayed neatly along both sides of the console, projecting all manner of holographic images outward, and several elven operators moved busily among those alloy pillars.
At the Ranger General's words, one of the operators at once activated the cylinder before him; as the runes kindled, a cluster of projections in front of the cylinder enlarged, showing the situation at the northernmost reach of the Sea of Forest Line: on the display, a dozen or more ancient trees were heaving themselves up from the earth with groans and creaks, striding forward on "feet" formed of countless roots; bright runes drifted over their trunks and branches, layering energy barriers within the compass of their canopies, while a company of elves in short robes, mounted on giant moonlit stags, followed close behind the ancient trees, charging toward the distant energy barrier that stood on the verge of overload.
"The second batch of mages has set out. Sixteen guardian ancient trees are escorting them."
"What of the first batch? Have they broken free?"
The operator reported swiftly: "Still trapped in the trench sector. Three have been contaminated by the magic tide and urgently need treatment—the guardian ancient trees are bringing medicine and treatment pods, but I fear they will not arrive in time."
The Ranger General's brows drew tightly together. He looked out the window at that forest sea—a forest sea built jointly by men and elves, meant to seal away and purify the magical corruption that ceaselessly spread from the Gondor wastes. The first magic seeds, after seven hundred years of growth, had become a barrier vast enough to cover the entire northern frontier; but faced with the direct impact of the magic tide, could these brave and loyal ancient trees truly hold?