Alturiak 1377 - CoRD Strikes Back

"Brother!" Ashara responded to Therogeon's call as she drifted down to the rubble-strewn cliff only a few feet from the elf.

The column of air she'd conjured from the valley floor below, offered her a much faster and more comfortable ride than having to scale the rock wall herself.

A bright smile was painted on her face. One of the purest relief to see him standing there safe, but as she approached him and saw burned flesh, the blood...the holes in his scorched shirt that ran from front to back, the smile fell and she gasped.

Ashara hurried to his side and without even the slightest hesitation for decency's sake, peeled open his ruined shirt to check the wounds. There was a kind of unspoken understanding among the Champions in those situations, as there was little room for embarrassment or modesty when someone was bleeding out.

Therogeon's wounds had healed...for the most part, but the flesh hadn't knitted together completely, leaving deep gouges in his chest and back where once three swords had been driven through. No poison though, and no diseases starting, so that was good! Fire had blistered most of his exposed skin, though that seemed to have been mostly healed. Still, he must be in a good amount of pain, but after Ashara uttered a quick prayer, healing magics drained through her fingers, knitting up the remainder of his injuries.

She sighed slightly and patted him on the shoulder before peeking down the black marble stairs where she assumed her husband was waiting. When she saw the area was vacant, her eyes snapped up to meet the wizard's gaze, concern etched onto her features.

"Where is Elric? Is he hurt!?"

"Have I failed?" The priest sneered at Elric. "How many in Impresk lay dead now? No longer will the people be able to look to the lot of you for protection without...doubts. The Champions of the Red Dawn have become an anathema to the land, bringing death wherever they travel! Do I need to remind you of Calimport? Port Kir? ...Impresk? How many "innocent" lives can be laid at YOUR feet?

"I've made an example of your ranger and then had him murdered by one of your own. I wonder if she had that same thrill that she must have had while under Cyric's Blessing... Do you think she enjoyed it? Savored it?

Raridan cackled gleefully, watching the turmoil play out on the half elf's face.

"You have murdered more in the last few years than I have in my lifetime, and you think you fight AGAINST the Dark Sun?! You serve him as I do! Two sides of the same coin, but only one of us sees the truth of the matter while the other is deceived, believing himself to be a "hero"...

The mildly insane Cyricist actually believed that he might be able to squirm his way out of Elric's clutches, but in spite of what that wizard had said, the furious light in Therogeon's eyes told him that there was no freedom after THAT one returned. If he was going to get out of this, he had to take his chance now...

"You would enjoy killing me, would you not," he smiled at the rhetorical question.

He dropped his eyes to his ruined hand, and pressed it into the folds of his robe as if to help stem the blood that still flowed from the cut Theorgeon had dealt him. In reality he was only trying to draw Elric's attention to that hand and not on the good one that was discreetly waggling fingers while he muttered an unintelligible word."

"Well DO IT THEN!" The priest screamed suddenly, releasing a wave of Fear at the Champion as he launched himself at him with wild eyes. "SERVE OUR GOD!"

The priests words were like a hot knife. He'd long felt responsible for Calimport, though he knew in his heart they had saved as many lives as they could. He'd never believe that the Champions caused more harm then they did good. Port Kir was a tragedy but he laid the blame for that on Cyric... not Ashara. The nightmares of what the curse had caused her to do there had faded with time, for both of them.

The thought of her listening to this vile creatures venom unnerved him all the more. Why wouldn't she just wait at the tower! He didn't know what kind of reaction it would cause in her... the taunting... the memory of what she could have been, had things gone differently....

It was a well known fact that Elric abhorred death in any fashion. It had caused a lot of tension in the early years with Kaber and Aretis. To assume you had the right to judge, jury, and executioner for any minor transgression... seemed so wrong to the humble young man. He had learned so much from the mistakes in his past and he had become a better man for them. His simple wish was for more people to learn from their poor judgement.

His hands were by no means clean of any bloodshed, but he felt his soul was clean of any wrongful deaths. Circumstances may have caused innocents harm in his wake... but never by his hand. As such... the unrepentantly evil priest seriously underestimated him.

With the priest screaming for death and the sudden attack, Elric reacted more than thought. A quick spin left the priest clawing at nothing but air. Without thought or guilt the warrior felt his blade slide between the evil man's ribs. The priest seemed to say something... but it was lost on the half dragon with a wet gurgle sound and a thin line of blood running from the mouth. As the hatred faded from his eyes, Elric thought to taunt him one more time... Some final words before he met his god, but nothing came to mind.

With a loud thump, the priest fell to the ground dead.

The wizard gasped in relief as the rest of his wounds healed. The fact that she was so obviously worried about him brought as much pleasure as it did guilt.

"My sister", he started as he placed a hand on her shoulder, "I am overjoyed to see you safe. Elric is quite fine, and unless I miss my guess the priest is already dead. There is only one more person to take care of, but I will allow Elric the pleasure of filling you in. Please, allow me to cast a spell on you that will help protect you and make sure you are safe."

He saw her nod of consent and without removing his hand from her shoulder, began his spell. Every word he had just spoke was true, but their real meaning was hidden. His spell would indeed keep her safe. Safe back in Impresk. He finished casting the Teleport Without Error, a powerfull teleport spell that didn't require him to go with the reciepiant. Her eyes widened as just before she vanished and he whispered, "I'm sorry."

As the now suddenly very angry Ashara reappeared back in the library Almara looked to the young woman with sad eyes. It was clear she did not agree with Therogeon's plan but was unable to move against it. Softly she mouthed the words that mirrored the wizard's just before Ashara teleported, "I'm sorry."

How long had they been gone? Ten minutes... Twenty? Not nearly long enough for him to be pacing like a caged animal. The prisoner was dead.... for SURE this time. The passage was blocked till Therogeon got back. There was literally no reason for him to be staying down here while they were up there... If he could get through to his mysterious enemy, he would... In a heartbeat! But as it was...

Respectfully he cleaned the blood off his sword the best he was able and turned to follow Therogeon. As he passed the broken Thorn golem, it's faceless head tilted almost quizzically.

"Umm... Stay here Thornton. We'll be right back... Who knows, Maybe Ashara can help YOU out somehow?" He continued toward the exit to meet his wife and brother.

It was much easier going back then it was coming down the first time. That name... Alagian, kept going through his mind. Someone he must have truly wronged in some way... even if only in his own mind. Every time he thought he recognized it, he realized his mistake. Simple fact was, he knew entirely too many 'A's.

Even if the dust didn't show the way, he'd have remembered easily enough. They had cleared everything except some traps by the stairs (which were easily marked) and the golems... While technically 'broken' they may still cause some trouble. They were slow and easily dodged... but the gas??? That he wasn't so sure about. Regardless... it simply HAD to be easier this time....

Apparently it was a moot point. as he traveled back the way he came, he heard footsteps ahead of him... but only one set. Concern gripped him as he saw the mage walk back into the light. All alone and an unusual look of guilt on his face.

Elric didn't know what to make of it. He'd recieved no whispers. She should still have a couple. She hadn't been in danger. Did she change her mind? That wasn't like her. Did Therogeon change her mind? For all his gifts, and having heard the determination from that lest message, Elric doubted the mage could be THAT persuasive. "Therogeon... What... Where's Ashara....?"

Fury.

Pure. Unadulterated.

Fury.

Ashara stood before the wizardess, trembling with rage. That was twice now in just over twelve hours that Therogeon kept her from reaching Elric in order to grant him healing. Twice she'd been prevented from exercising what had become her role among the Champions, and what she felt made her who she was. What made her feel most needed...

The mage...the one who called her sister, as if that justified his actions, the one whom she'd adventured with for years and saved more times than she could count if she cared to, had simply DISMISSED her. He'd accepted Lathander's healing and then used his arcane power to just send her away like one of his first year students!

Why hadn't Elric accompanied Therogeon to meet her? He'd said that he "guessed the priest was already dead"?! Did he leave Elric down there still fighting, or did her husband send the mage up to get rid of her? That certainly didn't sound like him, though his last Whisper to her seemed rather...brusque... While she knew they were both looking out for her and the unborn child, the actions that were taken were not those she had come to expect from her family.

She squeezed her eyelids together tightly for a moment before opening them again, trying to rid her vision of the scarlet hue everything had suddenly taken on. Almara's face had gone rather white as she watched the woman seething...too angry to formulate words.

It was at that point Ashara caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror that stood behind the half elf. She certainly was...a spectacle... Softly glowing, bloodied chain mail that fit a bit too tightly around the middle, a sword wrapped in her cloak and affixed to the pack slung over her shoulders, and a holy mace hanging at her hip that virtually pulsed with light in reaction to her whirlwind of emotions... The most disturbing part was that the healed wound she'd taken to her cheek had her face half covered in tacky blood, to which clung bits of the ash which used to be Aretis.

The shock of her own appearance drew her back to the present for a moment and she turned to thankfully find the children still sleeping peacefully. It wouldn't do to have them see their mother like this, nor would it do to vent her wrath on the woman standing before her.

"Deliver this message to your master for me," Ashara said softly, finally finding her voice. Shaky as it was. "Tell him he has no right to move me around like a pawn in a game of his own making. I had come to believe that that very attitude was what he tries so hard to fight against... Tell him that while Lathander has granted me the power to return there again if I so chose, that I will stay here. Not because he has tried to exert his will upon me as powerful wizards are wont to do, but because Lord Everdawn apparently has no need of me."

The priestess turned on her heel and stalked toward the library door, grabbing her white robes on the way.

"Now if you'll excuse me, I just destroyed a friend a few moments ago and I need to go wash him off my face before the children wake up. After I am done, I promise to return here and do nothing but wait silently among my children, fretting for my husband and 'brother' as a good woman should."

With that, Ashara tried to push open the door, only to find it...locked.

Not just locked, but Wizard Locked!

She glanced to the runes on the wall that normally would take her elsewhere in the tower, but somehow she knew they wouldn't work either.

A visible shudder ran down her spine. Now she DID want to vent her wrath on the wizardess! Therogeon couldn't have done this remotely, which meant Almara was in on this bad business too...

"Almara," she began slowly in an unnervingly low voice, while still facing the library door, "are there any traps in this room? Magical or mundane?"

She heard the hard swallow from behind her. "N-...no, of course not, but what..."

"Good," Ashara interrupted, just before a flickering wave of brilliant red light blasted out from her, shattering the Wizard Lock and waking the little quarter dragons from their slumber.

"Mommy will be back in just a few moments, lisse'ereamin," she said as she flung open the library door and headed down to a washroom.

***

A few moments later, the priestess stood before another mirror, just staring at her own reflection.

Repulsed by what she saw, Ashara balled up her fist and smashed the mirror into tiny fragments, sending shards scattering about the floor and into the soft skin of her knuckles.

A twinge of guilt for the wanton destruction had her laying her hand on the glass and uttering a few words to magically mend the item back to its proper state.

So much had transpired over the last few hours. To say that she didn't want to aid her companions in stopping those responsible for all the murders and horrors of today would be an outright lie. She'd TRIED to stay out of it, but hearing of Therogeon's near-death just pushed her over the edge.

But to be treated as...such a burden to them... Like just one more issue that needed to be dealt with. A lesser, unnecessary, member of the Champions. To be just sent away like a petulant child with no word from Elric? To not be allowed to heal him?! Therogeon's most recent betrayal hurt her more than she was willing to admit to herself.

The same fist smashed again into the recently mended mirror, shattering it...again. This time she let the shards lie. After cleaning up the evidence of her battle with Aretis and using a minor healing spell to seal up the fresh wounds on her hand, the white-robed priestess walked back to her prison.

"Ahh, she umm, is back in Impresk. And very angry at me. Possibly at you...."

The wizard shrugged. "I used our means of getting home to send her home...." Therogeon sighed, "I love her dearly, she -is- as a sister to me. But she doesn't see that with her here, neither of us will be fighting at our best. Both of us will be more interested in protecting her and the child and thus both of us will probably take more damage than we would have without her here."

The elf started to pace, "Her desire to protect and heal would invariably lead her to jump into harms way for one of us, and I am quite sure that neither of us would want that." He sighed again, "Regardless I made my choice. No matter the consequences I would do the same again." He spread his arms out to the side, "Hit me if you must. Only let us finish this so at least one of us can go home."

Elric's eyebrows shot up in surprise at the mage's confession. He remembered the tirade that Ashara had thrown the night before, at the two of them 'deciding' when and where she was 'allowed' to go... and who she was allowed to heal. He had grown accustomed to those rare flashes of the Rosemorn temper. Short fuse, burned bright, faded fast. But this... this was going to be bad. Add in the fact that he heard it from Therogeon? Silence was never a good thing.

"Hit you?!?" The warrior said in surprise. "I'm not going to hit you... I DO think you made an error in judgement... Pregnant or not she's still Ashara... She's fought by our side more times than I can remember against greater dangers than we'll find in this hole... She knows what to do in a fight, and when to do it... She wouldn't put any of the children, born or not, in danger unless she believed it the right thing to do... "

He took a deep breath and released it slowly. "Honestly I think Almara has you feeling 'extra' protective today, and you ARE going to have a problem to deal with when you get back... I recommend profuse apologies, and hope those chests have some fun treasure in it. But no... I'm not going to be the one to hit you for using your best powers to protect my wife." He looked down towards the wall of force and the waiting Alagian. "I had so hoped, that this would be the last fight of the day..."

Quickly he sent one of his few remaining whispers. The fact that she hadn't contacted him yet... Not a good sign. He was pretty good at defusing her temper... but not from this far away... "I just heard... Soooo Sorry. Should be done here soon, Then Therogeon needs to rememorize... Note was for me... Name's Alagian. Love you... Miss you."

He looked back toward the mage. "Now... Would you please get rid of that stupid wall! The priest... ummm... doesn't need guarding anymore. I could probably have finished this by now and we could have all left together! Let's go meet this Alagian... Find out what his issue is with me. I'll punch him in the throat, and we can try to get back while you still have a tower left."

The wizard nodded, "Considering she's already cast a destructive spell and a spell to fix a broken object, I'm wondering if I already lost the tower."

He sighed, "Perhaps you are right. Perhaps I am feeling over protective. Mystra knows it wouldn't be the first time....probably not the last, not if I'm going to be a father."

He motioned idly at the wall and it vanished. "Shall we?" So saying the two started down the hallway towards the mysterious Alagian.

Ashara sat on the floor of the library with the three Everdawnlings, reading through some of the childrens' story books she'd brought to help entertain them during their stay. Her heart wasn't in it this time though and Arturo began making up some of his own stories to tell Romen and Me'awen based on the pictures he was flipping through.

Almara had said not a word since she'd returned from cleaning herself up a bit. Wisely so. The priestess was in no mood for speaking to her would-be-jailer, lest she say something that she would regret later. She doubted the half elf was completely in favor of Therogeon's plan, but apparently the Master Mage of Impresk didn't allow her freedom of choice either.

She shook the anger-tinged thoughts from her head and sighed, absentmindedly spinning the dragon bone ring around on her finger. She felt so useless! At what point did they lose faith in her ability to get the job done? When did they stop trusting in her wisdom to make decisions? Even as angry as she was, Ashara had a hard time believing that Elric actually felt that way... Still...he hadn't come when Therogeon sent her away and she didn't know what to make of that.

As if in answer to her concerns, Elric's Whisper drifted to her ear.

"I just heard... Soooo sorry. Should be done here soon, Then Therogeon needs to rememorize... Note was for me... Name's Alagian. Love you... Miss you."

His affirmations had her breathing a sigh of relief. If he had 'just heard', then he wasn't in on this little deception. Apparently the mage had taken it upon himself to make that choice for everyone!

To avoid getting swept up in the torrent of rage again, Ashara focused her attention on the name her husband had given. Alagian... Not one that she could recall ever hearing before... Elric was the one he was seeking!? Fear started mounting then. More than once assassins had come after him, as skulking shadows of his past in Evereska. She thought that was all behind them now, since Airoth was killed during the seige, but what else could this be about?! The note itself was in elvish, but what was this undeserved gift that it mentioned?

The unknown identity of this person seeking Elric's life was extremely disconcerting for her... How she wished she could have at least made sure he was whole and well before she'd been dismissed without the courtesy of even being ASKED to go! If Therogeon was as badly injured as he was when she got there... The priestess shuddered at the thought of the mage allowing him to remain in pain while she was RIGHT there and could have healed him before he faced this foe! Surely he wouldn't do such a thing!

Waiving off the ridiculous thought, Ashara used her next to last Whisper to reach out to her dear husband.

"Hope you're well! Attempted to magically lock me in the library, but am able to come if you call. Don't recognize 'Alagian'... Miss you too..."

Elric smiled as the reassuring words filled his ears. He could tell she was still angry... but it seemed directed at the mage. Elric was fine with that! Heaven knows he'd gotten into enough trouble by association to have to deal with this when he got home.

"Good news!" he smiled back at Therogeon... "She's doesn't seem that mad... at me! I know your aware of our whispering... but in case you don't actually COUNT... I've only got two, and she's on her last. Can you tell Almara to spread the word I'll be saving them from emergencies or when we're done with him?

"Ohh... By the way..." The half dragon lifted his eyebrow in amusement. "Next time you try to lock her someplace she doesn't want to be... you'll need better locks. She says she's ready to come if we call..."

They walked down the dark hall and carefully stepped passed the body of the fallen priest. The one who had caused all the pain in the last couple days was still dead. That was good. He would have felt like a fool if the body had disappeared or the priest had tricked them again. 'Correction.' he thought to himself... This priest may have just been the tool. The true cause was still waiting down this hall...

The two men travelled east down the long hallway. Unlit sconces lined the walls, but from the light of Elric's holy symbol it was easy enough to see that this area was relatively free of dust. Eventually, after a few twists and turns, they began to see a greenish glow ahead of them and the air grew heavy with the scent of stagnant water. The hall opened up into a larger area, and he stone path they'd been following continued on through the room, but to either side of that path was what seemed to be a glowing green pond.

As they approached cautiously and their light hit the water, the green glow simply disappeared. No magic was to be found in the water, only a luminescent algae that was likely to be used as some kind of spell component had they the time or desire to collect it. Now was not the time to be diving into fetid pools of water to scoop up slime however, so the Champions pressed on ahead.

Exiting that room, they found themselves in another hallway that turned southeast and then opened up into a triangular shaped room. Natural fire lit the sconces within, giving the area a warm and welcoming feel. Just inside the room, two long bookshelves lined the walls on either side of the entrance. At the far end, the point of the odd shaped study, stood a large stone chair that, if it wasn't for the substance it was chiseled from, appeared that it might actually be quite comfortable.

Little extraneous details of the room may have been overlooked however, as their attention was immediately drawn to the elf rising to greet them from his seat at a table standing along the wall.

Long, silver hair was pulled back over his sharply pointed ears making no attempt to hide the wicked scar that slashed down his face through his right eye. While the ruined eye was clouded white and useless, the left eye was strikingly blue in color with gold flecks circling the pupil.

He wore plain black breeches and a blue shirt of simple cut but with extravagant silver embroidery of obviously elvish design. He had been holding a longsword, but rested it gently on the table before he rose to approach the men. One glance would have been enough to recognize it. The weapon, a beautiful elvish longsword of such a quality that had probably been seen only...once before.

Grayn'anda'ith. The Defender blade that Aretis claimed after the fall of Tenithalosa.

To the trained eye, one other thing about this elf might catch the attention. He moved with the grace and confidence of a seasoned predator. Fluidly. Effortlessly. Even the handful of steps he took toward the men seemed like a well-balanced dance.

He approached within twenty feet, staying well within the room while the Champions still stood in the hall without. A beautiful smile split his angular elvish face and his eye missed nothing as he looked the two men over before coming to rest on Elric.

With a tone that could only be described as contemptuous, Alagian addressed him.

"Peace... Brother..."

Elric studied the elf. As he sized him up like an opponent at a tournament, he felt his confidence recede. This wasn't going to be as easy as he'd thought... The confidence of this Alagian was apparent as was his strength and grace. Not to mention Aretis' sword. The power of that blade was deadly in the hands of a novice, and this was no novice. The elf was completely unconscious of his moves. A natural skill that flashed warnings to the seasoned warrior. This was no cocky pretender... this was a real contender. Elric fought back the part of him that was almost excited to see where this went.

Though the elf's skill was apparent, his identity was not. Elric had truly hoped he'd recognize the one who had caused so much pain. Someone from his past in Evereska, Waterdeep, something... but he had never before laid eyes on this person.

As he approached the room, suddenly the light from his holy symbol flickered out. As did the glow of his sword. That perked his attention a bit. Remembering the shattered mirror in the inn and Therogeon's comments, he deduced that they had finally found the dead magic zone. That meant no wraps... no sword... hmmm no ring... His heart sped up a bit in anticipation of the coming test.

"Alagian I presume...." Elric responded cautiously. "I got your note, but... I don't believe we've met." He allowed himself a smirk as he added, "You have a memorable face."

The elf lifted his head in a lilting laughter at Elric's comment.

"You speak truthfully," he grinned, while running his thumb along the raised scar that crossed his cheek. "I find that it affords me an air of mystery and of intrigue, don't you think?"

Alagian paced slowly in front of the half elf with this hands clasped behind him. Keeping a healthy distance for the time being, but just...observing. The way he carried himself. His stance, that to a lesser opponent might appear casual, the elf recognized the significance of the way he was distributing the weight. Seventy percent on the back leg, thirty percent on the front. Elric was just as prepared to launch a kick from that stance as he was to drive home a devastating punch. This one was not about to be caught unawares.

The corners of his mouth twitched up slightly.

"No," he responded suddenly, "we haven't met officially, though I have had the opportunity to watch you in a tournament in Waterdeep...that would be about a year ago now I think.

"I am indeed, Alagian as you so guessed, and you are of course the renowned Lord Elric Everdawn! Throat-puncher of dragons!" He bowed low, with a mocking flourish of his hand, clicking his heels together as he stood.

"While it is doubtful you know my name, perhaps know that of my father... The Windwalker."

Elric was confident nothing his enemy could say would surprise him. He was very, very wrong. Stunned he just stared at the elf for a moment. The Eldorath he knew was ancient beyond telling, but yes... If you looked past the wrinkles and the scars, there was a definite resemblance between the two. Despite the outlandish odds... he believed Alagian.

Even the name... Now the memory snapped in focus. He'd only heard it once, and a long time ago... The idea of a brother had intrigued the young family-starved half-elf. Long after he'd forgotten the actual name, he'd wondered about Eldorath's son... Who he was, what he was like. How many sons did Eldorath have? He never spoke of his own family to his young student. In time he stopped even thinking about him. The Windwalker's training didn't leave much time for idle daydreams.

"Yeah... I knew your father well." The half-dragon measured his words carefully. "I don't know where I'd be if it hadn't been for him." A cold chill went down his spine as the realization of situation occurred to him. They had the same teacher... Alagian knew him a lot longer... and as an elf... could have been honing his craft for centuries.

"Eldorath and I parted quite amiably... what grudge does his long missing son bear me? You seem to have put a lot of effort in getting me here."

The elf smirked, as much at Elric's comments as at the evident surprise that played across his features at the mention of his teacher. "I am hardly missing... As a matter of fact, I've known exactly where I've been all of my life.

"My father...," the elf replied, raising his unmarred eyebrow, "has grown quite senile over the last century. Which is evident enough in his decision to train the likes of you in the ways of the Salk-Sirra!"

Alagian turned his back on the half elf then, an overt sign of complete disdain for the youth that stood before him, and walked back to the table, turning once to motion the two men inside. He pulled out the two chairs and offered his guests a seat, before he continued his pacing, caring not at all if they took him up on his generous offer of hospitality.

"You, peredhel, have been granted a teaching that N'Tel'Quess should never possess. A gift neither earned, nor deserved! That would be reason enough for me to seek to right my father's wrongs, but you took it an entirely new level of depravity!"

The anger radiating off of the elf was palpable now, though he did well to keep it in check. While his tenor raised slightly, his body remained completely fluid, not reacting at all to the tension in his voice.

"Now you believe that after...what...a decade?" He guessed, the blue eye raking over Elric's features. "You believe that you can now become tura! That you may share that unjustifiable gift with those of no more worth than yourself?! You train humans?!"

Alagian stopped pacing and turned to regard the warrior.

"You are corrupting a legacy to which you should never have held claim!"

Stunned Elric followed his motions to the chairs, but didn't sit down. Leaning forward on the backs of the chair he carefully absorbed everything the elf had to say.

The elf's words hit a little close to home for Elric's taste. He had often questioned his decision to open the school. Alagian was right. He was no Eldorath. He hadn't trained and learned for centuries, and he often wondered if he knew enough to train others. Though Ashara would hear nothing of it, he often considered himself a better fighter than a teacher. But to hear the words coming from someone else? That was intolerable.

"That's what this was about?!?" He asked in astonishment. "Aretis? Marstine? the doppelgangers... The attack on my WIFE and CHILD?!? Because you didn't like my SCHOOL?!? Because my student's and I aren't ELVISH enough for your tastes?"

He thought back to his teacher in amazement. His voice held a decided edge to it now. "How could we have learned at the feet of the same man! I KNOW Eldorath never taught THAT philosophy... Salk-sirra isn't elvish! Never was! Windwalker combined things from a dozen races in a hundred kingdoms... The rest I discovered on my own!

"This dance is mine and I'll teach whoever I decide to. If you had a problem with it, maybe you should have ENTERED that tournament in Waterdeep!"

Rage flashed once in the elf's eye and though his right hand curled into a fist at Elric's words, he released it as quickly as it had come.

"Your arrogance astounds me... You have the audacity to tell me what does and does not belong to my people? What he ever saw in you, I will never understand..."

He turned to begin his pacing once again, but he shot Elric a telling sideways glance after the mention of his father. This was about more than just the dance... Alagian was jealous! Jealous that his father's favor and approval had fallen upon another, and not just any other, but a half elf!

"My father gleaned those techniques and improved upon them! He the founder of the Salk-Sirra! So many centuries ago, it was Eldorath that melded them into something that flowed together with perfect precision...into a form of fighting that is very distinctly elven. Yes, we each make the dance our own, but the building blocks are the same. You teach the same basic techniques that my father taught you but now you claim ownership of those things? How can a creature like yourself with no history and no legacy HOPE to understand the significance of what you've been given?! You simply TOOK the knowledge without the ability to appreciate it! THAT is why I'm here. My father was once a great man, but even great men fall. Even great men make mistakes, and I am looking at one of those mistakes now..."

Alagian's lip twitched up in a sneer as his gaze bored into he half elf, sizing him up once more. After a brief stare down, the elf took a breath and crossed his arms in front of him, trying to appear more relaxed than he actually was.

"As to the more recent events, I am indeed the one who repaid Aretis for his theft of Tenithalosa's sword. I intend to return it soon to his family in Evereska, where it belongs. My friend was a proud member of the Griffon Legion and a defender of The People and while I do miss his company, his path was a dangerous one. His own choices led him to his fate and I bear you and yours no ill will for his death."

He tilted his head slightly toward both Therogeon and Elric before continuing.

"It seems you overestimate my involvement in the Cyricist's failures. Our...arrangement...was more an exchange of resources. I help provide him with funds to aid him in his insane scheme and he helps provide me with information and...this," Alagian smiled and stretched out his arms to indicate the room the three men stood within. "A simple area where you and I might have this matter between us settled without interference of your magical aids or your friends who would do your fighting for you."

Elric surprised himself as he felt the corner of his mouth rising in a smirk. Sometimes it seemed like he'd heard those taunts all his life. 'Creature', 'a mistake', 'Peredhel'. Some he'd tried to wear as badge of honor, but it never truly felt right to him. Words... taunts... There was a time, not that far back, that they would have hurt more than any physical confrontation. But he wasn't the same little orphan half-elf he was back then. Not by far!

Alagian was wrong. About many things. Elric knew his history now... and his legacy was waiting for him in the mage's tower with their mother. He was Elric Everdawn. Not half-elf, but half-dragon. Last prince of the lost kingdom Kaimelethil and husband to the Mortal face of Lathander on Faerun. It would take more than words from a petulant short sighted elf to upset him this time.

"So... You didn't kill my friends. All you did was ally yourself with the followers of the mad god and finance the assassinations. And yet you think I'm the embarrassment to the elven culture? Between you and Tenithalosa... When did it become 'elven' to work with the gods of evil?

"Do you really think I'm not holding you responsible? You're a fool Alagian. If you wanted to test yourself against me, you only had to ask! Meet me at a tournament. Meet me at the school! I'd have met you anytime for free! I only hope it cost you a lot to get me here. Because other people paid with their lives!"

He couldn't resist an extra little dig at the elf's pride. "I'd heard you were a jerk.... but I never suspected you were downright evil! I understand a little better now, why your father never spoke of you..."

For all of Alagian's patience, he had no intention of standing there to be berated by this half breed any longer!

With flared nostrils and a tight smile painted on his features, he looked Elric over again, this time focusing on the wounds he'd sustained in his battle below the tower. Burns covered a good portion of his bare chest, and his right arm was nearly blackened from the grip of the fire elemental. It just wouldn't do.

The elf moved over to the end of one of the bookcases and rifled through a pack resting there on the ground next to a large black cloak. After a moment he pulled out a flask.

"The cost to me was negligible, I'm sorry to inform," he stated, moving back over to Elric, "and the value of a human life is not nearly as costly as you seem to believe... I'd say it was a pretty even tradeoff.

"You're also mistaken on another point... I have certainly not brought you here to test myself against you," he scoffed as he arched that eyebrow again. "I've brought you here to destroy you! When I'm done with you I will finish your students as well, until all stain of the corruption to MY father's teachings is removed!"

He tossed the potion to Elric. "Go into the hall, out of the dead magic area and drink that. I'd prefer if you were not injured prior to my breaking of you, but it's your choice.

"Mage," he said, turning to Therogeon, "You're free to stay or go as you choose, but if you stay I would suggest you remain an onlooker or I will have to take issue with you personally. You of course will be allowed to remove your friend's body when we're finished here. I'm not a monster after all!"

Smirking at his own comment, Alagian pulled off his embroidered shirt, folded it and layed it carefully on the table as he waited for Elric to decide what to do with the potion.

"It's so difficult to find a good shirt, and keep it that way, don' t you think? It would be a shame to soil this one with your polluted blood. That stuff just NEVER comes out..."

The elven salk-sirra master looked as if he was chiseled out of warm marble. Lean and hard, he might not be able to match the younger master in power but what he lacked in mass he made up for in speed. In spite of what he'd said to Elric about testing himself, the golden gleam in his eye was evidence enough that he was quite excited about facing another of his father's students, and while he may have seemed dismissive about the half elf's abilities, he was obviously not unimpressed by the man standing before him. Definitely not one to underestimate.

Elric looked at the potion in his hands. Only a fool would turn away healing before a fight. Or was it only a fool eats something from an enemy? Somehow he trusted Alagian. Strange as it sounds, he really did. The elf wanted him dead. That much was obvious, but he wouldn't stoop to poison. He wanted him dead by his own hands. He had a... need, to not only see Elric die, but to also prove him inferior. To show he was a better fighter... more skilled... more deserving of Eldorath's attention. The potion would be safe.

A step or two outside the zone, and he put his hopes to the test. As the disgustingly thick syrup went down, he felt the healing powers course through him. Muscle and bones knit, the burns began to fade. They weren't completely gone, but he did feel much better.

"Therogeon... " He quietly addressed his friend as he stared back at Eldorath's waiting son. "I have to do this..." All the reason's that he'd attributed to the elf, he felt himself. The urge to vindicate Eldorath's reputation. To know... that he had been worthy of his teachings, his time, his affection. He had come on this fight for the safety and vengeance of friends and family... but while those reasons were still there, he was fighting for more now.

He looked down to his ring and thought of his wife. He hoped she'd understand, even if she didn't agree. He wanted to send her a whisper, but couldn't think of anything that hadn't been said a hundred times.

"I think I can take him," he said with some confidence... but not as much he'd hoped. For all his bluster, and antagonizing... he knew he was in the fight of his life. No magic. No powers... just hard taught skill vs. skill. While he knew the tests he'd triumphed over... he had no idea what his opponent had done in the centuries before... "If anything happens... " he couldn't finish the thought.

The wizard stared at his brother. "If anything happens you want me to tell the woman who is already angry at me because I sent her home that your are dead." He shook his head in silent disbelief. "Forget it.

"What I don't understand is why you 'have' to fight him. Because he called you a couple names? Names that really mean nothing to you now," he lowered his voice before continuing, "half-dragon." When he continued his voice was his regular volume, "Your heritage is greater and longer than any elf's. If anyone has a right to this dance then it is YOU."

The wizard raised his hands to emphasize his point, "Besides if half of what you told me about Silk-Sirrah is true, the obviously you are the better Tura than he could ever be. You understand about peace, tolerance, and fighting for defense of others, not out of hatred or jealousy. Facing him is a stupid way of showing off your human side arrogance."

He turned back towards the elf though his words were still for Elric, "And even if he is a better fighter than you does it really matter? Your Windwalker entrusted you with his teachings. He had faith that you would do what was right." He looked back directly at Elric's eyes, "He believed in you enough to teach you."

He took a step away then said over his shoulder, "Oh, and if you do go ahead with this and lose, I swear to Mystra that all of your children will grow up to be mages."

The mage was right... on multiple levels. The names, the disdain... none of it really mattered. Even his inflammatory opinions of his teacher. None of that mattered. Elric was secure in the truth. He had deserved the training, and he had done a lot of good with it. As his and the other Champion's name were gaining in fame across the realms and he had never heard of Alagian... he took for granted that he put the training to more noble use then the elf ever had.

Still... there was something about this fight that just got the half-dragon's heart beating faster. Two philosophies... Students of the same Tura. He had felt his skills stagnating since he had started the school. Spending all his time focusing on the most basic of skills... he had feared he was losing his edge. Tournaments helped, but occasionally he did long for a true challenge. Alagian was it... It would be like fighting a mirror... the only way to truly test his own skills were to pit them against similiar skills and compare results. He hadn't forgotten Marstine or Aretis. The attacks on family and friends... they just made him want this fight even more!

He nodded as the mage continued on. His eyebrows raised sharply at the last comment. "Well... Then I guess it'd be best if I don't lose!" A slight grin formed. "And your absolutely right... after you sent her away..." he exaggerated a shudder. "Just... Teleport my body back... and find someplace safe to hide... It may not be safe at the tower for a very long time..."

"You are a fool my brother. If you are insistant on this fight I cannot stop you." So saying he walked back into the study and showing more courage than he felt, for after all he was nearly helpless here and this elf was as skilled as Elric, he walked up to within a few feet of Alagian.

"You are also a fool. You have forgotten what it means to be an elf. You have taken your racial pride and your arrogance and put them above the People. You ally yourself with the forces of evil, the very forces the Elves fight against. You are no better than a Drow.

"Have your fight, but when you are done you had better try to kill me too. If I live, I promise you that you will not." So saying the mage turned his back on the elf and strode from the dead magic zone. He would watch the fight from out here.