Moments later, the call of a raven drew his attention skyward, there coming towards him, was the carrier raven. He brought his bow up and took aim, dropping the bird in one shot. May his brothers forgive him for his meddling, but he is only doing what he feels is best. For not only Rone but for Max’s memory as well.
As he retrieved the carrier raven’s carcass, he whispered a silent prayer to the forest. “Please don’t let this be a mistake.” He said quietly, as he buried the raven under the roots of a cedar tree.
When he was finished, he returned to Briarthorn and made his way to the main house. Sagina was still sitting on the steps of the house as he climbed them and sat down next to her. He put his arm around her shoulder and let her lean on him as she cried.
“I’m sorry,” she sobbed into his shoulder.
“Sorry for what?” He asked, gently caressing her arm.
“That I couldn’t save Max, and that I told Tobias about Rone.” She said, raising up to wipe the tears away. Decker kissed her gently on the forehead and looked her in the eyes.
“Let me worry about Tobias, and as for Max, there was nothing you could do. If you had done anything else, it may have been two funerals we would be preparing for.”
Sagina wiped another tear away as she thought about what Decker had just said.
“I don’t think so,” she said, looking kind of puzzled.
“The dark elf wanted me left alive. I think he wanted me to give his message. Otherwise, the Orc could have killed me anytime he wished.”
“Do you think he and Rone are working together?” Decker asked, not wanting even to consider it.
“I honestly don’t know what to think,” she replied, “But I hope not.”
10
Rone had awoken early the next morning, enjoyed his breakfast, then set out for the Crimson Tower, which is where he now found himself standing. He looked up at the massive building, its deep red stone shining in the morning sun as its windows glinted with a rainbow of colors from the stained glass.
He did not relish going back in there, and to be honest, he wasn’t even sure they would help him. The last time he was in the tower, he had a bit of a spat with one of the Archmages disciples. It seems she took it personally to find her niece in bed with a HoloFae.
Besides, how was he supposed to know she was to remain unspoiled until after her training as a priestess. He shook his head and stepped up to the large oak doors, grabbed the bronze door knock, and clanked it hard onto the metal plate beneath it.
Within moments the massive doors made a distinct clicking sound. As the brass bars that kept it locked slid back in their holdings. The door on the left opened slightly, and a sun elf maiden poked her head out into the street.
“Who are you, and what do you want?” she asked, rather curtly.
“I am Rone of the Thorn Callers’ I seek council with the Arch Historian.
“What history do you seek?” The elf maiden asked impatiently.
“I seek the location of an artifact known as the Dragon’s Heart.”
“Wait here.” She replied, closing the door in his face.
Rone looked at fang, who just cocked his head to the side in such a way as to say (don’t ask me.) Rone shook his head and patted the blink wolf on his side.
“I’ll never figure out mages either, buddy.” He sat down on the steps of the tower and waited for the elf to return.
After several minutes the heavy door again clicked with the sound of the latch being slid back. The elf maiden that had answered before stuck her head out again and bid him enter.
“But leave the dog outside,” she said, pointing at Fang, who growled a little with the displeasure of being called a dog.
“That’s no dog. It’s a blink wolf,” Rone answered, rubbing Fang's head.
“It’s four-legged and furry, it’s a dog.” She replied sarcastically.
“And you’re female and rude, so that must mean you’re a bitch, right?” Rone asked with his own sarcasm showing in the smile on his lips. The elf woman huffed and turned to storm off.
“Well, are you coming HoloFae?” she asked angrily over her shoulder.
Rone patted Fang once more and told him to wait here as he stepped through the door. Fang yawned and laid down on the steps as the large door closed behind Rone, all on its own.
He hurried to catch up with the elven girl as they passed through a deceivingly sizeable waiting area. From the outside, the tower barely looked bigger than a large house. From the inside, though, it was as large as any castle ever dreamed of.
Large silk tapestries hung on the walls representing each school of magic, and several students were sitting at the tables or in the large plush chairs around the room.
Each one either engrossed in some book or busily writing something onto the parchments and scrolls they had before them.
Bookshelves so tall it must take enormous ladders to reach the top shelves lined the walls, and the entire place was lit up by braziers that instead of flames, each held a large ball of mage light.
The outside of the tower may get its name from the crimson color of its stones, but the inside was anything but. It was made up of polished white marble and gold mosaic tiles that covered the entire floor. The furniture was master crafted in either redwood or cedar, with the occasional mahogany desk or table.
As they walked through the waiting area and turned down a hallway that led towards another huge room, Rone couldn’t take the awkward silence anymore.
“So, I thought sun elves pride themselves on their good manners?” He asked, trying to sound genuinely curious.
“The SolFae do yes,” she replied dismissively.
“So then why so grumpy?” He asked, watching the back of her head as she walked. She stopped and looked back at him. Her displeasure at his question appeared in the crinkles of a scowl around her mouth. The reddish colored bangs of her hair hung loosely down over her eyes as she brushed them back and tucked them behind her pointed ears. Her green eyes flashed with anger as she raised a finger to point at him.
“Because I have better things to do than answer the door or lead some HoloFae to meet the Arch historian. I should be practicing my spells or studying for my initiates exam, not bothering with some ranger from Agnar.” Before he could even get a word out in response, she whirled around and started down the hallway again.
Rone wanted to say something more; he tried to sting her the way she had him. But the memory of having his legs turned to stone kept him from it. Instead he just hurried to catch up and followed her quietly down the hall.
After a few moments, they arrived outside the hall of histories, and the fiery sun elf girl ordered him to wait outside the door while she announced him to the Arch historian. Maybe it was the fact he spent most of his days in the company of other rangers or simple village folk, but he never understood the need for such formalities. He was still wondering about it and pacing outside the door when she returned and motioned for him to come inside.
As he entered the room, he looked around at the bookshelves that lined the walls around them. Rone instantly realized the waiting room he had passed through before, paled in comparison to the sheer volumes of books that were in this room.
They rose from the floor to the ceiling in large shelves of stone carved from the very walls themselves. The room was lit by mage lights that hung suspended from the ceiling in large globes of glass.
Except for a few crush velvet benches and the occasional small sitting table. The only other piece of furniture was a grand red oak desk that sat in the center of the room. Its craftsmanship was astonishing, inlaid with carvings of books, scrolls, and representations of every race on Earthera.