Escaping the Elven Dark

The Silvergrey Sea

Part Seven: What Is and Should Never Be

Escaping the Elven Dark

* * *

The climb to the top of the ridge was not difficult for Drago or Abram. Not unless one counted creeping dread at the thought of what awaited them and near panic in anticipating the sudden overhaul of the landscape to something immediately lethal.

The Hermetist’s training allowed him to remain concentrated on the task, but somewhere in his unconscious, a dwarf cackled with glee at his impending demise. To distract himself, Abram considered the landscape.

In other circumstances, exploring this world would have been a delight. He had concluded they were in some sort of luminous cave. It was difficult to be sure because of the sheer size of it. Abram could not see a ceiling to the structure. Whether it was open to the sky or atmospheric conditions limited viewing distance, the Mercurius couldn’t say. He thought the latter, considering how much the higher structures faded with distance.

After about twenty minutes of huffing and puffing, the pair crested the rise and looked down at the valley.

Though the landscape around the circle had changed, nothing within it had. It was still filled with silver sand, though the beasties chained there continued to flicker from form to form. Abram exchanged a look with Watr Man, intuiting the same thing: their chances for survival would rise considerably, were they within that circle.

Despite the obvious immediate risk involved, the duo moved as one, jogging and sliding down, careless of the noise that would announce their presence.

The two reached a level space and began to run as well as they could toward the circle. The sometime drakes began to bay, turning toward the pair with threatening aspects. Finally, they were within the circle of silver sand. Now that they had stopped moving, the beasties no longer seemed to be bothered by them.

Drago turned to Abram and asked, “What happened to the rod you were carrying?”

“I’ve got it right here,” reaching behind him, the Mercurius pulled out the Rod of Mercury.

“Where were you hiding that?”

“Bend over. I’ll show you.” Abram was rewarded with an actual smile from the Watr Man. He returned it to its arcane hidey hole.

“You’ve had that the whole time? Why didn’t you think to use it to get us out of here before?”

Abram replied, shaking his head, “Portals cannot be made that lead out of a place like the Elven Dark. The first Hermetists to arrive here learned that the hard way.”

“I don’t follow.”

“In order to make a Portal, one has to know precisely where one is. That is impossible in a place like this. The same is true for all the worlds of the Elven Convocation, as well as a handful of other places that we’ve explored. One could make a Portal into the Dark, but to get out again, that Portal would have to remain open.”

“Just as well, really. We needed to get here for my plan to work.”

“Why?”

“I need to talk to these Fæ before the Rite of Manifestation.”

“Why? What do we need to know?”

“It’s not what we need to know, but what they do.”

“And that is…?”

“You’ve heard the saying about the best way to avoid a trap, I assume.”

After a moment’s thought, “You sneaky bastard. Wait, were you planning on coming here?”

“Yes, in fact. Having found myself here accidently is quite fortuitous.” Abram felt a brief return of suspicion, but dismissed it. He was committed one way or the other.

“If you’ll excuse me for a moment.” He stood and walked to the center of the circle of captive Fæ.

Abram stood and made to follow, but Drago held up a hand. “It’s best if you are not standing next to me for this to work. They’re rather skittish. As an Element and former Great Soul, I can gain their trust.”

“You’re right, of course. Be careful near the center. I’m detecting a Færie Door energy signature there. When it opens, you don’t want to me standing directly on it.”

Drago nodded and continued to the center, leaving the Hermetist standing just inside the edge of the silver sand circle.

Abram didn’t have any set expectations of what a conversation between Drago and the Fæ would be, but it certainly wasn’t what he witnessed.

As Drago walked between the two nearest to him, he raised his arms and chanted something in a language the like of which the Mercurius had never heard. A ball of frosted, spiky silver-blue light appeared above his head midway between his open palms.

With a sound as of wind chimes in a stiff breeze, all ten of the creatures exploded into similarly sparkly spheres. All of them were the same size as the one above the Watr Man. Abram noticed that all eleven of shining objects were pulsing and changing configurations in precisely the same way. Drago brought his hands together sharply. There was a flash too bright for the Hermetist to tolerate. When he chanced opening his eyes again, there was only one of the balls of light, much larger than the others had been. Of the Hyborean, there was no sigh at all.

For several minutes, nothing happened. The prickly sphere of light pulsed, sending out sharp looking spikes all over its surface. There was the faintest hint of sound like those chimes, but much more faintly.

It ended as the ball disappeared, to be replaced with Drago, arms lowered, and ten creatures that looked like serpents with dozens of pairs of translucent wings along their spines. Smiling, the former Great Soul rejoined him.

Before either could speak, strands of glowing blackness began whipping out from the center of the space. Abram noticed the beasts becoming less substantial as it went on.

“Our ride’s here,” Abram.

Drago nodded as one of the rope-like worms wrapped around his waist. Abram was almost immediately entangled as well.

The companions were yanked off their feet and into a hole that hadn’t been there five seconds earlier.

—Gideon Jagged
Innsmouth, October 2026

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