Morgada turned the bottle upright again, allowing the stopper to seal itself. She released the dread container, which vanished.
The female Titan sang another note. The others joined her, creating a sound both wondrous and terrible to hear. The treetops shivered even though there was no wind, and the mist turned more crimson as it settled down just above the spellcasters’ heads.
Slowly, the wordless song lowered in volume. As it did, Morgada began drawing a certain symbol according to Dauroth’s version of the High Ogre tongue. A bent tree with blazing marks was intended to represent poisoned fruit. At the base of the bent tree she drew two wavy lines that burned red.
It was the Titan symbol for the elf race as Dauroth had decided it should be drawn. The tree represented their long reign as the supposed guardians of Krynn, a guardianship that he regarded as built on the demise of the High Ogres, and the lies-hence the poisoned fruit-that the forest dwellers had spread about the ogre race’s past.
And the river that flowed beneath the foul tree was the blood with which the elves would repay the ogres for the centuries of degradation.
Once Morgada had finished the symbol, it drifted away, moving not to the center of the assembled Titans’ pattern, but rather to an area to the east of them. As the symbol neared, the mist-enshrouded trees closest to it faded back. Wherever it flew, the symbol cleared the area of any tree or bush, the expanse growing.
When at last she was satisfied, Morgada caused the mark of the elves to hover. A glance at the two other members of the Talon verified their approval. Smiling expectantly, she altered the song again.
The change was the signal for the others to raise their hands toward her and her two companions. From the fingertips of each Titan emanated blue streams of magical energy that touched the trio, before flowing through them into the scarlet pattern. The pattern became bone white.
“Children of the lie, we see your damning hearts, we see your foul lies,” Morgada sang in the Titans’ musical language. “We hear your words of deceit and the whispers you make in the ears of all others. We call you by the name we know you-Arys idu lokai! — the Speakers of the Curse!” She clenched her hands. “We call you, Arys idu lokai, call you that you may speak no more your untruths and instead pay with your blood for the resurrection of the First People!”
The Titans grunted as the arcane energies flowing between them flared a hundredfold more intensely. The forest took on a new, more macabre glow.
And where the symbol Morgada had drawn hovered, there began to take shape ghostly figures. They were slim and much shorter than the gargantuan sorcerers, albeit tall enough when compared to the races of men and dwarves. Their numbers grew from a handful to dozens, scores, hundreds. The sinister forest of the Titans expanded to make room for every addition.
And as the numbers grew, the ghosts also defined themselves more distinctly. Some were shorter, like children. Many had long, flowing hair. There were males and females. The figures clustered about one another.
They were elves. Frightened, drawn elves. Their garments were in most cases tattered, and many bore visible scars.
Morgada clamped her mouth shut. The spell ceased.
The Titans turned to the fearful newcomers.
One quicker-witted elf broke from the throng. He made it to the edge of the clearing … only to back up in fear.
Out from the trees marched a macabre army. Only shadows at first, they resembled ogre warriors. But in the light of the sorcerers’ magic, the horrific truth revealed them as skeletons, the bones of warriors who had come to serve the Titans. Dauroth had transformed them from living to dead, preferring the absolute obedience of the latter.
The lone elf stumbled, collided with the nearest skeleton, and bounced off. The unliving sentinel reached down and seized him by the throat, and raised a rusted but still usable axe.
Morgada gestured. The guardian lowered its weapon and tossed the hapless elf back among the others.
She looked to the other Titans. “The deed is done!” she sang. “You have Safrag’s-and my-gratitude.”
They bowed. All but the other two members of the Talon vanished.
Morgada and her counterparts glided toward the elves, who eyed them with far more anxiety than they did the surrounding ghouls. The elves recognized their value to the Titans, even if what exactly the sorcerers needed them for was mostly conjecture. The prisoners only understood that it involved blood and that those taken were never seen again.
“The mongrel cannot save you,” the female Titan declared with some mockery. “Just as he cannot save himself.” She waved the monstrous guards toward the prisoners. As the skeletons began herding the elves in the direction of the Titan stronghold, Morgada added, “But we can thank him for gathering you up so nicely for us, don’t you think?”
The elves from the stockade in Garantha said nothing. Morgada chuckled and directed the guards on their way. She and the remaining Titans watched as the elves were herded along.
“Why do we need them if Safrag is going to bring the Fire Rose to us?” asked one of the male sorcerers.
“You should pay more attention, Kulgrath! It may be that the proper use of the artifact might take us some weeks to understand, maybe more. We might need the blood of the elves in the meantime.” She smiled. “Besides, the master wishes to experiment on many, many spells that will require their blood too! One way or another, the elf race will perish providing us with knowledge and power. Do you have any problem with that?”
He shrugged. “I merely wondered about the feeding and caring of the herd.”
She laughed at his naivete. “Feeding? Care? Why, my dear Kulgrath! How long do you think we’re going to keep them alive?”
Kulgrath and the other male joined in her merriment as the dank, magical forest once more filled the clearing around them.
The golden figure pressed on through one passage to the next, always a few paces ahead of Golgren, Safrag, and Idaria. It was questionable whether or not any of them knew where they were going. But their surroundings changed.
The first hint came as the jagged, rock walls began to smooth until finally they became utterly flat. Safrag ran a hand over the flat walls, grinning.
“Not the least imperfection! And yet so much effort was required, even with magic! Truly, the High Ogres wielded power as none other!”
“Not even Titans?” Golgren innocently asked.
Safrag was not rattled. “The rejuvenation of the ogre race through us has only had a generation in which to do its work, mongrel. Within several years, we shall achieve and surpass our ancestors’ glory. Sooner than that, if the Fire Rose is indeed ahead!”
“And if it is not?”
“If it is not, I shall at least have the pleasure of skinning you alive layer by layer before draining your faithful slave of every ounce of her precious blood.”
It was only a few moments before the smooth walls gave way to something even more fantastical. All three paused to gape. There could be no doubt that something grand lay ahead.
From the floor, and rising up the walls to the ceiling, was the most intricate relief any of them had ever witnessed. It spread ahead as far as they could see. The work was seamless, with no beginning or end, and must have been the work of a thousand dedicated artisans, so detailed was its every feature.
“It is their history.” Safrag breathed. He touched the left side of the wall, where the world of Krynn seemed to hover in a mass of stars. There were symbols of each of the gods, and even depictions of the gods themselves, as represented in other High Ogre ruins. They swirled around the depicted planet, as if seeing it for the first time.
Safrag’s greed meant he was reluctant to slow down, and he prevented them from studying much of the relief in detail. But certain elements stood out. There were the first dragons, the first war, the rise of the first of the High Ogres, and the granting to them of the guidance of the mortal world by the gods. The first of the great cities was built, and entire lands were tamed, as the beautiful race began to come into its own with its magic.