Summoning

Prologue

The cool salty night air wafted up refreshingly from the nearby bay, as Adelmar wandered the street alone. The pale light of the moon which hung at zenith just overhead was the one light to be seen through the entire, sleeping town of Palisades. No lanterns illuminated the streets or gave away his position in the shadows. When he had first arrived to this small, coastal town, he had thought it unwise and risky to do without street laters. Yet, why should the distance between the small, log houses on either side be lit? It was so far north from the capital of Armison and from all other civilization that there really seemed no threats to this joyous, peaceful town. No, the peace, comfort, and solace of this area seemed to never have known the deathly fingers of evil in it's time. The joyous, content citizens had likely only heard of the evil in Munítus and the surrounding countries in folks tales and children's stories. These people knew not the horror, the pain, the icy fingers, the nightmares, the suffering of the new Ironhelm that the High Lord had enforced. A pain tore at Adelmar's heart. Would these people be introduced to this concept soon? This very night, even?

A twig snapped from somewhere behind him. He spun on his heels and swung his cane around so quickly that it nearly snagged on his long, silver beard. He gazed into the depths of the tree-shrouded forest. His senses were keen. The sound had come from a tall berry-bearing shrub at the foot of the forest. He waited and listened, his heart beating harder than ever.

Suddenly, a large fluffy hare leapt from the shrub. Adelmar nearly jumped out of his skin in alarm. The hare glanced around before bounding off towards a stack of wood to his left. Breathing heavily, he sighed and placed his hand on his thundering heart. He was getting too old to handle getting scared like that. At his age, that could have given him a heart attack. He really needed to just calm down his nerves. There was probably nothing out of the ordinary going on tonight, and he was out in the dark, letting his feeble presumptions cause him to jump a foot off the ground like a young child over a silly, little hare. He forced himself to smile at the thought. Everything was just fine. Everything around him was calm and peaceful and perfectly normal as could be. Yet, the sickening feeling in his gut churned and told him otherwise. Shaking his head to himself, he tried to convince himself that it was just an ache from eating too much of that cod and turnips for supper.

Turning on his heels, he began his walk back toward his own comfortable, log abode. The feeling in his gut heaved. There was no mistaking it, no use trying to avoid the obvious. This was no stomach ache from sickness or food. It was the pain of his gift warning him. Danger, destruction, and suffering lingered in the shadows, creeping closer by the second. He sucked in a breath and closed his eyes tightly, clutching the cane in his hand until his knuckles turned white. He felt it, the love and peace of Adonai wash over him.

"I trust you, Adonai," Adelmar whispered under his sob-shaken breaths.

He slowly sat down on a nearby bench in front of a small, cheery house and listened. He rested his elbows on his legs and lowered his head onto his palms, blinking away tears that threatened to overflow. There was nothing that he could do but wait. Crickets chirped and a distant owl hooted in the dreary song of midnight. The cool, spring breeze whispered softly in his ears, rustling the green leaves that hung overhead. He opened his eyes and stared out into the small patch of green at the foot of the forest. The grass swayed and the multi-colored, fragrant flowers waltzed in a joyous pattern in the light breeze. Yes, it was an absolutely perfect night. And Adelmar knew all too well that where perfection roots itself and attempts to thrive, evil will surely attempt to crush and stamp out every bit of life from it.

Suddenly, the nighttime lullaby ceased completely, as if holding it's breathe. All was silent. The crickets silenced. The owl had flown. Even the waves' crashing seemed distant. Yes, this was the calm before the storm. If only another was awake to recognize that something was terribly not right, all might not be lost. But the hushed voice in his heart told him that that was not part of Adonai's plan. He, Adelmar, the last Speaker of Light, alone would experience this dreadful silence that clawed at his heart.

All at once, everything changed, and tears began to spill down his cheeks. The crash of a landing plank came from the direction of the bay. Then, everything erupted. Thundering stomping, crashing, pounding, screaming, yelling, and weeping resounded throughout the town. Shadows leapt out of the forest and ran from houses in chaos.

Quickly, Adelmar rose and and slunk into the shadows of a nearby alleyway. All he could do was watch the nightmare take place before his eyes. A tumult of banging, the slamming of shutters and doors, and the affectionate, alarmed hollow of a man wanting someone to stay inside resounded from the house across the street, catching his attention. He glued his eyes to the door, not daring to glance at the large figures shrouded in black that brought destruction, as if pieces of the dark heavens above had come down in the form of the High Lord's greatest warriors. A man barged out of the door across the street, slamming the door behind him. He was a tall, muscular man of about twenty-five years of age with an athletic form and short dark hair. A small white mark on his neckline was barely visible in the moon light. Adelmar gasped. Could it be possible? Leaning closer, he saw that the mark was in the shape of the two broken halves of a circle together, the sign of Adonai. Yes, this man was not a human. He was an Elithin, likely one of the very rare few left in all of Munítus. He could feel it in his heart that this was the noble father of the High Lord's prize. The Elithin leapt toward a pair of nearby cloaked figures, who had just dashed from a building to his left. Yes, this poor, dauntless man would fight valiantly for what he loved. He had fallen for the trap.

"Barnum, please, you must come back," a woman's voice screamed from within the house across the street. "Barnum, please!"'

Within seconds, the young woman appeared in the doorway. She was a lithe, beautiful woman with smooth, silky black hair and dark eyes that reflected the moon's bright display. Adelmar squinted his eyes. There was the same mark on her own neckline. She was also Elithin. She yelled her husband's name once more in desperation, but her eyes showed that she knew that no amount of pleas would bring him back into that house. He would fight with all that he had until he had either defended his family or he died fighting for that passions of love. It was the way of his people. Adelmar watched as the woman scanned around for her husband with anxiety etched across her forehead, clutching a sharp, curved dagger in her right hand. Her gaze finally landed on Barnum, and she stood with her mouth agape in horror and fear. The brawl that her husband fought so valiantly in drew dangerously close to Adelmar's place of concealment. He slunk father into the shadows, making sure that he could still see the fight and the house in the dim, celestial light.

As the Elithin fought bravely on, driven by nothing more than the undeniable, tender love that reflected in his fiery eyes, Adelmar's heart stretched and ached deeply for him. The danger signal in his gut now collided with the knot of utter dread and sorrow. If only he could warn these devoted, passionate parents and lovers of what grief awaited them, but he knew better than to try to stand in the way of the plans of Adonai. He glanced back at the young woman, who seemed to be frozen in place, watching her husband's every move, and tears streamed freely down his face.

Suddenly, his gift spiked. He spun around, just in time to dodge the quick flash of metal that swung toward his neck. Adelmar noticed the man had been knocked slight off balance by the failed swing toward him and took advantage of the rare moment. He swung his heavy wooden can around toward the man's head, and his attacker crumbled to the ground as the wood thudded against his skull. Adelmar grimaced. He hated hurting anyone. It brought back too many memories of his old life. He stared down at the man, who lay face down on the earth, and knelt down beside him, placing his fingers against the man's neck. Yes, he was alive still. Adelmar sighed with relief. He would take this man back to his house when this was all over and help him with that nasty bump on his head. Eyeing the man up and down, he took note of the man's all too familiar appearance. He was dressed in full black armor and clothing, completed with a pitch back cloak. The only skin exposed of the man's body was his muscular face, cleanly shaved bald head, and forearms which were trailed with intricate black tattoos. Adelmar winced as he traced his finger along the black scar lines of the patterns. By the looks of it, this man had climbed the militia ladder extremely far. He was going to be a hard one to deal with when he woke up.

A loud, masculine cry rang out from the alleyway entrance, interrupting his thoughts. He quickly drew himself up to his position in the shadow's shroud. He scanned the streets quickly, hoping that his presumption was incorrect on the source. His heart sank and tore at the moment he spotted Barnum. The Elithin gasped for air and sank slowly to his knees, as a dark red stain spread across his white shirt from a tear in his side. It was too dim to see the wound, but the amount of blood flow made it obvious how lethal it was. His eyes met his wife's, and Adelmar watched him struggle out words between fits of coughs. "I am... sorry... Leanna."

Then, Barnum fell forward just a few feet from several dark shrouds that he had obviously slain. One of the two attackers who stood on either side of him, the one whose sword was blotched with dark spots of liquid, turned quickly and ran the opposite way down the street. The other, larger man stayed with his feet planted in a triumphant stance and his hooded face staring down at the young man.

As Barnum's face twisted in agony for a few minutes and his body curled into a fetal position, the attacker lifted his longsword above the man's head for a final blow. Adelmar turned away, strangling his cane with his fist and clenching his eyes shut against the pain that seemed to be shredding his heart. He waited for the final cry of agony the was guarantied with the fatal blow, but it never came. Instead, a clang of metal against metal rang out from the alley entrance. He snapped his head around, and his heart skipped a beat. The man now stood a few paces back and didn't move, likely in shock of the sight before him. Barnum's wife now knelt beside him on the ground with her dagger at her side and her hand lovingly caressing her husband's check. Her lips moved in words that he could not read as tears poured down her pale face. Grief painted itself across her whole expression. In that moment, he watched her heart break through her eyes and felt her pain. He knew the excruciating pain of love that she was feeling.

Just as the attacker took a determined, angry step toward her, a series of shrill shrieks and screams rose above the chaos of other noise from the house of Leanna and Barnum across the street and stole the attention of himself, the advancing soldier, and the couple. By the looks on both of the couple's faces, they were shrieks that they knew all too well. Adelmar held his breathe with his eyes locked on the gaping door. They had found their prize. An tall, brawny brute, concealed mostly by his black cloak, rushed out of the log house with a baby girl in one arm and a small, toddler boy in the other. They thrashed and cried out. Both sets of bright, terrified eyes landed on their mother and father in a pleading desperation.

Barnum shot up to a sitting position with the pure, fierce love of a father flaming in his eyes, but his wound was too much. He cried out and collapsed against the ground, the blood flow increasing noticeably around him. Leanna glanced quickly from her husband to her children, before attempting to jump to her feet. Out of the corner of Adelmar's eye, he saw the black figure of the attacker next to them rush forward in one agile motion and bring his leg up. The swift kick of the powerful, large boot found it's mark in her midsection, and she crumbled helplessly beside her husband on the dusty street.

More tears gushed down Adlemar's cheeks, soaking his tunic and beard. For a brief moment, he nearly followed the overwhelming impulse to go after those children. He would be able to save them if he tried, but the soft whisper in his heart kept his feet planted in the shadows. His gaze followed the small, screaming children until they disappeared in the direction of the forest and bay. His eyes immediately shifted to the weeping mother who now clenched her husband's hand and side. Her lips moved silently, as she stared desperately up into the sky above. He had learned the art of lip reading many years ago and managed to make out her words even in the dim light.

"Why, Adonai? Why would you allow this? Why? I don't understand," she prayed, as the blade raised above her head.

Adelmar turned away, backed against the wall, and sank down against it under the weight of the darkness that surrounded him and echoed in his ears from all directions. The High Lord had gotten what he wanted at the price of all these people's lives. Now, Adelmar could only trust that what Adonai had in mind for those children was worth all of this heartbreaking tragedy.