Thousands of years ago, when the Kingdom of the Eternal Elves was just beginning, a renowned warrior named Dakeron lived in its western part. This great elf and distinguished warrior had distinguished himself many times in battles for the borders of Ket's first kingdom. Furthermore, Dakeron was a skilled craftsman and loved precious gems. Therefore, Dakeron bought them from dwarves or found them on battlefields. Orcs often carried treasures stolen from merchants and travelers. From these beautiful minerals, the elf Dakeron crafted one of the most beautiful necklaces on Ket.
Soon, the necklace became his symbol, and rumors of an invincible warrior wearing a magnificent gem reached Newli, the kingdom's capital. For his faithful and distinguished service, Dakeron received a noble title from King Einoritr and the estates of Sheep Pass, his homeland.
Dakeron founded a family and settled in these lands. There, on the slopes of Anadron Mountain, he built a city towering over a pass. He made it the most beautiful city in the Elven Kingdoms after Newla. Many dwarven friends assisted him in its construction, contributing to the building's unique architecture. He named the city Balandal, or Blue, because its walls were blue, with white tiled trees on them. The buildings were also constructed of blue bricks covered with numerous ornaments and plant motifs. The city and its walls were full of slender turrets, and over every doorway and interior were decorated with arcaded, round, or serrated arches. The whole was embellished with slender dwarven columns, creating an eerie blend of elven and dwarven architecture. Above the entire city, at the foot of Anadron, stood a small palace of the Dakeron family, built in the same style.
For years, Dakeron, his wife, and two sons lived in peace. However, Dakeron himself quickly grew weary of this eternal life. He decided to end it, as any elf could have done. Before doing so, however, he ordered a pedestal erected in the marketplace of the Blue City, and on it, placed his beautiful necklace in a glass container.
"As long as this magnificent jewel remains here, the city will be strong and beautiful." He ordered his words engraved on the pedestal.
A few days later, he mounted his horse and rode towards the Golden Bridge on the Ottota River. The bridge connecting the Elven Kingdom with the Dwarf Cities and, beyond that, with the Cult. No further trace of him was lost. Only dwarven merchants from the Golden Mountains spoke of an armored elf riding through the Great Waste towards the Zobna Marshes.
Over the years, the city flourished and remained strong and beautiful, just as Dakeron had predicted. However, difficult times came for the elves of Balandal. A powerful and greedy human mage, Wighar, appeared near the Kingdom's Borders, in an uninhabited and difficult-to-access part of the White Mountains. This wicked man desired control of this beautiful land and this magnificent city. He repeatedly attacked the elves of Balandal and the city itself, but without success. Dakeron's prophecy proved true.
However, during one of the battles, when all the men of the city were fighting the Ardul, the mage's humanoid, severely deformed, and skinless creatures, and his hired guards at Lake Hafe, an accident occurred. Wighar, through his trickery, infiltrated Balandal undetected and stole Dakeron's necklace from a glass container.
When Dakeron Ar-Tan and his brother Ramsib returned to Balandal after another victory, they found the inhabitants in despair. The news was terrifying. Their sacred artifact had vanished in broad daylight, amidst a city full of elves. No one knew what had truly happened, though suspicions were clear. Although Wighar's army was destroyed, he himself could quickly rebuild it, and without the amulet, the city could not count on the help of the good spirits. Word of the theft, shameful for the elves, spread quickly, and soon the city lost its stronghold. Merchants stopped coming, and the inhabitants became sad and gloomy. Even among their own countrymen, they were criticized and omitted, not to mention visitors from outside the Kingdom. Worse still, the haramids, sworn enemies of the elves, considered it dishonorable to defeat and kill an elf from the Blue City, Balandal, in battle.
Lord Dakeron Ar-Tan, as Dakeron's eldest son and the city's chieftain, was deeply concerned by this state of affairs. He therefore decided to set out alone to search for the thief and, bringing him to justice for his vile deeds, recover his father's necklace.
"Brother," Ramsib said to Ar-Tan, "allow me to accompany you on your journey. And though I am wounded, I will certainly help.
" "No. In my absence, your place is here. You must rule this city until I return. Your wounds are grave, and besides, it will be easier for one of you to infiltrate the castle and exterminate the plague that is ravaging our land."
Ramsib agreed to his brother's request and remained in the city. Ar-Tan himself donned armor, a blue breastplate with the necklace's design, navy blue steel greaves, and gray leather boots. He took with him an ornate, reflexed elven bow and quiver, as well as a custom-made, ornate knight's hammer. He bade farewell to his family and the city's citizens, receiving numerous gifts, for he expected never to return. He mounted his gray steed, Netep, and set off north.
He traveled for many months, traversing the hills and valleys, peaks and valleys of the White Mountains. However, he could find no trace of Wighar, nor the way to his stronghold. He seemed to have vanished with his ancestral treasure. After a year of fruitless searching, he reached Ogaati. A mountainous land above the source of the Keffu River, covered in forest, whose northern end was also the border of the Kingdom of the Eternal Elves. Where the border met the forest, he saw a blazing glow behind a hill. He rode up it and saw two fighting beings: the angel of the god Xepu and the angel of the god Vyre.
Vyre's angel was losing. Ar-Tan then drew his bow and shot at the angel of Xepu. The angel of the dwarven god was much closer to him than the other, due to the friendship between dwarves and elves. The angel of Xepu, struck by an elf's arrow, didn't fall, but bowed slightly, which the dwarven angel took advantage of and killed his opponent. The enemy angel's body, falling, flashed and vanished.
Ar-Tan rode down the hill on his horse and headed towards the weary angel.
"Thank you, friend, for your help. So allow me to aid you in your journey. However, I know who you are and what you seek," the angel said to him, his strange-sounding voice piercing and humming in the air.
"You are angels, after all, so why did you fight each other?"
"I can't answer that. There are things the inhabitants of Zia shouldn't know. Only I can show you the way and the location of the person you seek.
" "Then where is the human mage Wighar?
" "Then head south for about two kilometers until you reach the Keffu River. Follow its left bank, following the current." After a few days, you'll leave Ogaatia, and after a few more, you'll come to a valley nestled in the mountains. A single road leads from that valley, leading directly to the source of the Ottotu River. Just don't turn off, or you'll get lost and never reach your destination. You won't encounter any Ardula on this road. The Wighar creatures don't know these lands. As soon as you reach Ottotu, travel along its course until you come to a waterfall. There, you'll know what to do.
Ar-Tan thanked him for his help and set out on the path the angel had shown him. He traveled for many days and nights, rarely encountering any of his countrymen. In those days, the Kingdom was still sparsely inhabited by elves, but packs of wolves and ghouls roaming the forests and highlands were a common sight.
After a week, Dakeron's son finally reached a clearing between the mountains, by the Keffu River. However, there was no road there. The elf felt betrayed. However, he didn't give up and rode to the northwestern edge of the valley. Below, a small clearing was visible, from which a road branched off to the north. In the clearing was a group of Wighar's misshapen creatures. The angel was mistaken. The mage's creatures knew of this path. Meanwhile, they were gathering for the road, and after a few moments, they set off north. Ar-Tan followed them, hoping they would lead him to Wighar's stronghold.
For the next few days, the elf followed the creatures' trail toward the sources of Ottot, always lagging a day behind them. Once near Ottot itself, Dakeron's son approached the group of creatures to within a few dozen meters. He didn't realize how close he was until he heard the sounds of fighting. He dismounted Netep and crawled up the hill.
There, five Ardulas were attacking two dwarves who were still alive. Ar-Tan watched the fight for a moment, but when one of the dwarves fell, Ar-Tan rose from the ground. He drew his composite bow and shot at one of the creatures. The arrow pierced the creature's body, remaining in its entrails. However, the combatants didn't notice what had happened. Another arrow the elf shot whizzed past the dwarf's head and pierced Ardula, who was standing behind him. The dwarf was initially terrified, thinking the arrow was aimed at him, but when he spotted the elf, he returned to the fight. One of Wighar's monsters remained fighting the dwarf, while the other two ran toward Ar-Tan. However, they couldn't reach him. The elf quickly fired his arrows one after another, accurately hitting their opponents in the head. Meanwhile, the creature fighting the dwarf shielded itself with its sword against the powerful blows of the dwarven halberd. Finally, however, the exhausted monster dropped its rusty longsword with another blow, and a moment later fell headless to the ground.
Ar-Tan descended the hill, followed by his horse. The elf approached the dwarf who was arranging the bodies of his two companions. The dwarf rose from the ground and said,
"What's an elf doing in these parts? A nobleman, judging by his armor?
" "I could say the same about you, little friend. It's a long way from here to the Golden Mountains, and the Sajsi Mountains even further."
The dwarf sat down on a small stone, and the elf rested beside him.
"We were sent by our lord, Kagawa, to thoroughly explore the lands through which our ancestors crossed to the Golden Mountains." The dwarf lowered his head. "Our entire banner was slaughtered. A hundred soldiers." Only I, Wurak, and my two companions survived. We couldn't head straight home because those filthy creatures were patrolling all the roads. We headed east, but those imbeciles found us. Now only Wurak remains.
"I am Lord Dakeron Ar-Tan. Lord of Balandal and Sheep Pass."
"You are the ruler of Balandal. My brother ......... used to go there with the caravan. So you are the leader of the tribe that lost its honor?!" The elf looked a bit confused. "What could an elf without honor want from me?" Ar-Tan was silent for a moment.
"Do you want to avenge the deaths of your comrades?"
"Not only are you devoid of dignity, but you are also mad and insane. These creatures may be dullards, but there are so many of them. And their castle is not some mud hut, but a small stronghold.
" "Either way, I'm going there, and my goal is to kill Wighar. And also to recover my father's necklace. You can help me by leading me to the castle. There, I will recover the treasure of my people, and you will avenge your countrymen. But is what they say about the dwarves' insane courage a myth?
" "You are mad. And we are already killed." Wurak thought for a moment. "I'll lead you to the castle of that accursed Wighar.
" "Then let's go. My horse will carry us both, you just show us the way.
" Ar-Tan put the dwarf on his mount, then mounted and rode along the Ottot River. Many kilometers lay ahead. Roads in the White Mountains were still rather rare in those days, so travel was difficult. Reaching the destination sometimes took a long time; the horse sometimes allowed for quick travel, but sometimes it only caused trouble. Sometimes Ar-Tan would come across Ardula's trail, but they themselves were nowhere to be seen. The area was quiet and peaceful, only the murmur of the river and the song of birds. Wolves occasionally appeared in the distance, but no one ever saw ghouls near the Ottot. It was as if these regions deterred them.
After several days of travel, in the morning, the elf and dwarf reached a waterfall. In the distance, on the other bank of the river, they could see the small, unfinished castle of the human mage Wighar.
The castle was composed of two parts. Both were surrounded by a high wall. In the first part of the castle, two tall towers were under construction, while in the second part stood four towers connected in many places by corridors. All the towers were topped with a pointed roof adorned with the mage's banners. One of these was the Wighar's headquarters. Behind them was a small building still under construction and the walls terminating the keep, also surrounded by scaffolding. Four tents stood near the scaffolding, but there was no one nearby. The scaffolding itself remained empty. The castle looked as if it had died. Just before the waterfall, a long rope bridge suspended over the river, leading right up to the castle gate.
Ar-Tan and his companion hid behind a rock and waited until dusk. Despite the many hours that had passed while traversing the castle, no living creature had appeared. When night fell, Ar-Tan and Wurak emerged from hiding and headed for the bridge. They stealthily crossed the rope bridge and reached an unfinished section of the walls. Soon, however, Ardul emerged from the darkness beneath the scaffolding. He only managed to scream softly before a dwarven halberd split him in half. Pieces of the creature's body fell to the ground. Wurak himself wasn't overly concerned and began examining the scaffolding.
"Poor work, not like ours," he said contemptuously. "You must go on alone, though; I can't climb these flimsy planks."
"Why, you're not afraid of heights, are you?" Dakeron looked up, and a chill ran through him. Before him stood a fourteen-meter-high wall surrounded by warped and broken planks.
"No!" The dwarf grew slightly nervous. "I'm simply too short to climb up there," he muttered.
Ar-Tan, slightly apprehensive, began to climb the scaffolding. He did so slowly and carefully, yet some planks creaked under his feet, and others even cracked. Eventually, he reached the top of the scaffolding and jumped down onto the walls surrounding the entire fortress. He climbed a steep but wide staircase to the very bottom. Once at the foot of the walls, he entered through a door into a small, dimly lit courtyard between tall towers. Here and there, shadows of creatures appeared between the columns at the base of the towers, but he saw none, and what's more, none of them sensed the elf's presence. He crept to another staircase and climbed to the first floor of one of the towers. But where was Wighar? How to find him in the maze of corridors and rooms? Ar-Tan, however, felt the presence of his father's necklace, its proximity, and the power that now guided him. Despite this, he wandered the tower for about two hours, unnoticed by anyone. Wurak grew impatient during this time, but the lack of alarms proved the elf was still alive.
Finally, young Dakeron reached the fifteenth floor of the tower he had initially entered. There was only one door. He opened it and entered a long corridor connecting the upper floors of the two southern towers. Windows lined both sides of the passage, offering views of Ottot and the castle courtyard. At the end of the corridor, one of Ardula stood guarding the door. The elf noticed him before the elf noticed him. He gently unslung his bow from his back and readied an arrow. The arrow left only a soft swish and a dead creature in its wake. Ar-Tan, after opening the door at the end of the tunnel, found himself in a large, illuminated hall with numerous paintings and tapestries covering the walls. It contained many works of art and other treasures. It was also full of books and magical items. To the right, right next to the wall, was a staircase leading to the building's attic. Ar-Tan slowly ascended to Wighar's bedroom. There, next to a large telescope aimed at the glass rooftops, stood a huge canopy bed. In it, too, slept the human mage Wighar. He had stolen Dakeron's jewel in broad daylight. The mage slept in his street clothes, a necklace around his neck. The elf was overcome with doubt. How could he remove the necklace from the mage's neck now? He must have been tired, since he slept in his clothes. Ar-Tan closed his eyes and said quietly,
"O Ullfi. My god and creator of my race. Patron of the most magnificent land. Help your faithful servant. Allow me to reclaim the property of my family and regain the honor of the people under my care. I place myself in your providence."
The elf, eyes closed, approached the sleeping mage. Slowly and gently, he grabbed the necklace and lifted Wighar's head. For the next few minutes, he removed the ancestral jewel from his enemy's neck without waking the mage. Finally, he removed the necklace from the mage and put it on himself. Happy and proud, he raised a cry of victory.
Wighar awoke and barely glanced at the elf before the man drew his hammer and struck him hard in the temple. He fell back onto the bed, his head bloodied. Ar-Tan glanced around the room again and then ran down the corridor connecting the towers. He was now escaping the same route he had taken to reach Wighar. It took him a few moments to run down the stairs from the fifteenth floor. Tired, he ran from the tower into the courtyard. Two human guards were already standing there, mercenaries in the mage's service. For a moment, they stared at the elf as if nothing had happened. They didn't know he had just killed their leader. However, when they noticed the necklace around his neck and the elven bow, they drew their swords and summoned Ardule. Ar-Tan, however, did not engage in combat; he left the courtyard and followed the same route he had entered the castle. On the stairs leading to the walls, he encountered one of the creatures. He grabbed it and dragged it down the stairs towards the pursuing mercenaries. He encountered no one further along the path. So he ran towards the scaffolding. Only there stood several creatures and a guard. However, there was no time to draw his bow and shoot the enemies. He drew his hammer and rushed towards the creatures. They formed a row, waiting for the attack with their swords. Ar-Tan, rushing, swerved at the last moment and jumped down onto the lower scaffolding. He suffered a few bruises as he fell, but the boards didn't break. At the guard's command, the creatures followed him, but using makeshift ladders. The guard himself did the same and jumped to the same spot. The elf was already two stories below. The scaffolding couldn't withstand the mercenary's fall. Several floors collapsed, crushing the noble elf and the guard. The Adrule's path downward was cut off. Ar-Tan, however, managed to get back up quickly enough. The mercenary, however, rested forever beneath the remains of the scaffolding. As soon as he recovered from the pain of his fall, he spotted Wurak fighting the Adrul. There were too many of them, and he could barely cope. So he unsheathed his bow, which hadn't been damaged in the fall, and began shooting quickly and precisely at the creatures. Within a few seconds, he managed to shoot down six Adrul, while the remaining two were killed by a dwarven halberd. The elf and dwarf fled the same route, across the rope bridge, dragging a mob of creatures and Wighar's guards behind them. The mage's servants split, some running onto the bridge, while the rest headed downstream or upstream to cut off any escape routes. As soon as Ar-Tan left the bridge, Wurak pulled his halberd from his back and began cutting the ropes holding the bridge. The Adrul continued running, but the guards, sensing what was to come, hurriedly lowered the bridge planks. Soon, one of the ropes gave way, and the bridge tilted. Most of the creatures fell into the water and perished in the depths of the Ottota Falls. Wurak took another swing and struck the second, taut rope with his axe, severing it with a single blow. The bridge collapsed into the river, along with the remaining creatures on it.Meanwhile, Ar-Tan found his horse Netep and rode him towards the dwarf.
"Wighar is dead," he said. "I have recovered what I was looking for. I am now riding down the Ottot, and if you wish, I can accompany you to the Golden Bridge.
" "I am a dwarf, and I can handle the difficult journey. Those filthy swine will pursue us, however. We had better set off together.
" "Perhaps you are right. Let us set off as quickly as possible."
For the next five days, they followed the Ottot's current. Ar-Tan on horseback and Wurak on foot. They left the White Mountains and found themselves in the Great Waste, stretching along the entire western face of those mountains and even further south along the Golden Mountains. The Ottot was much calmer and shallower here, so battles between elves, orcs, and haramids often broke out here. Wighar's guards and Adrule could also cross this way, and there was no banner nearby to engage the mage's minions in combat. For the first time, Ar-Tan felt it would be better if at least some small forces of the Cult were nearby. For the next week, however, they encountered no danger. Finally, they reached the place where the Fumeh River flowed into Ottotu from the west. Their journey together was thus over. To the south lay the Golden Bridge, the only route Wurak could take home. To the east lay Balandal and the Sheep Pass, the home of Dakeron Ar-Tan.
So they parted amicably; the dwarf went to the bridge and returned home a hero, while the elf set off with his father's necklace to Balandal. He sensed, however, that this was not the end of his difficult journey. He knew that the creatures of Wighar, following him, sought revenge for their master's death. Despite this, for a time he traveled in peace; the Great Waste seemed dead. No animals, humans, elves, or even orcs. The vast plain allowed Ar-Tan a peaceful escape; the Adrul had to search hundreds of kilometers for any trace of the elf. Still, his intuition was right. As he approached the White Mountains, he turned directly toward Balandal, and the next day he encountered five of the stunted Adrul. They had set up a small camp near a solitary rock, the resting place of several dwarves who had fallen during the march to the Golden Mountains. Ar-Tan didn't hesitate for long. The five lonely creatures posed little problem for the elven nobleman.
He rode into the center of the camp and with the first blow of his hammer, killed the creature on the right. The second blow fell to the left, taking the life of another Adrul. One of the creatures quickly grabbed a spear, and another his axe. The last one was caught under the hooves and quickly fell. Ar-Tan spun his horse to the left, and the beast kicked the creature with the axe so hard that it flew through the air several meters and fell dead to the ground. The Adrul with the spear tried to thrust at the elf, but he parried the blow and jumped off his horse. When the creature tried to thrust again, Ar-Tan grabbed the spear under his arm and spun, pushing the creature into the fire. It caught fire and fell to the ground, trying to extinguish the flames. Ar-Tan approached it and plunged the spear into its heart. Using the spear, he pushed the dead Adrul into the fire, and did the same to the others. When the bodies began to burn out, the elf mounted his horse and headed home again.
But this reckless act of burning the bodies of his enemies would soon come back to haunt him. The dark smoke from the fire could be seen from afar, and the Adrul patrols, which were already plentiful in the wastelands, also noticed him. The creatures gathered at the dwarves' grave that same day and quickly picked up the elf's trail.
The day after the clash with the Adrul, Ar-Tan rode up the first hills of the White Mountains. He slowly climbed higher and higher until he reached the road stretching from Reet to Sheep Pass. He stopped by the road and looked back at the Great Waste for the last time. In the distance, he saw tiny puffs of dust. They were too far away to see what was causing them, but he already knew. The Adrul had followed him, and there were many of them. Too many for him to handle alone. Balandal was still many kilometers away, and although he was already in the lands of his homeland, it was of little comfort to him. Before he could return with reinforcements, Wighar's guards would devastate his lands and burn his villages. His family's defense of these lands rested on their shoulders, but only he knew of the impending danger. The creatures' revenge could only be an act of desperation. What if that wasn't the case? What if they were prepared for a hard and fierce fight?
Ar-Tan spurred his horse and galloped toward the nearest village on the road to Balandal. Thanks to his haste, on the second day he reached Oswe, a small village belonging to his subjects. As soon as he passed the first buildings, the elves recognized him immediately. However, no one paid homage to their lord, nor showed any signs of joy. Everyone remembered the event from several months earlier, an event that had stained the honor of the Dakeron family and all its subjects. Dakeron's descendant rode into the center of the village and removed his necklace.
"Compatriots!" he shouted. "This is the sacred artifact of my family and my brothers." Treacherously stolen by Wighar, it has now returned to its homeland. I have recovered it and cleansed the stain on House Dakeron and the city of Balandal.
Ar-Tan's trawl was swarming with villagers. Many of them disbelieved that it was the necklace. Others began to shout that a miracle had occurred. One thing was certain: young Dakeron had washed away his shame and deserved to be heard. Ureel, the Claviger, the elven governor who governed the village in the nobleman's name, emerged from one of the huts.
"Greetings, my lord. May Ullfi's light watch over you, our noble leader, and may King Einoritr be proud of you. What do you wish from us?
" "My brothers. Those who desire to live in peace and happiness. Although I redeemed the honor of these lands and killed Wighar, his servants approach here, seeking vengeance. Their strength is there; the defense of our Kingdom will rest on our shoulders.
" "Then let us take up arms and go defeat the enemy," shouted one of the elves. The others also raised an uproar, but Ar-Tan waved his hand to calm the crowd.
"Hold on a moment. For though we are excellent soldiers, we are few. And most of you have never fought. We must send for reinforcements to Balandal, but before they can reach us, we must defend ourselves. In three days, the enemy will reach the village. Ureel, send someone to my brother in Balandal. Have him gather as many warriors as he can and come to Oswe as quickly as possible. Have the messenger take my horse, Netep, too, then he will reach us with the news more quickly. In the meantime, let us prepare a defense."
Ar-Tan dismounted, and a young elf, appointed by Ureel, took his place, and after a moment, he set off for the Blue City. Almost all the inhabitants set off to build makeshift fortifications west of the village. There, between two high rock walls between which the road ran, construction began. They gathered everything they could use. Wagons, barrels, crates, planks—anything from which a barricade could be built. With their help, an earthen mound was created, bristling with planks and sharpened stakes. The remaining crates and planks were placed along the road to hinder the attack. Additional barrels of water were placed on the mound itself to flood the earthen mound. The resulting mud would significantly slow Adrula's attack. All the elves armed with bows stood on the rocky walls along the road. The rest, armed with pitchforks, lances, and a few with swords, stood on and behind the mound. The defense was prepared quite quickly, as was the enemy's advance.
Two days after Ar-Tan's arrival in Oswe, one of the scouts spotted the enemy five kilometers from the fortifications. This meant help would not arrive in time. It didn't take long for the Adrule to reach the village; the defenses were ready, but still too weak. Everyone rushed to the fortifications to defend their homeland. Barely two hours later, Adrule's banners and Wighar's guards appeared on the rise above the road. They formed a line, leaving a hole in the center. A moment later, a large chair carried by six creatures appeared in the hole. Ar-Tan, unharmed, watched with a smile as he stood on the embankment. As soon as the Adrule placed the chair with Wighar on it, he rose from it and waved his hand. A loud crack echoed in the air, like thunder. The creatures, silent and motionless until then, surged forward. In a frenzied attack, they approached the wooden posts. Archers soon appeared on the rocky walls to the sides and began firing at the creatures. The elves' arrows were accurate, but they were released too slowly into the crowd. Ar-Tan himself, standing on the embankment, shot much better. The free time he had thanks to his position allowed him to hone his shooting skills.
Meanwhile, the creatures pushed through the first section of the road without losing their momentum. Although many of them remained there forever, hanging from poles or lying with arrows embedded in them. Before they reached the embankment, the elves had overturned barrels of water and spilled it over the embankment. The running creatures slowly climbed the steep embankment, sinking into the mud. However, what was supposed to tire them out didn't work. They slowly climbed to the top of the embankment. And although the archers gave everything they had, there were still too many of them. Those closest to the summit still had to contend with the elves' pitchforks and spears. Eventually, however, they climbed the barricade, and a sword fight began. The archers then ran down the rocks and began a battle of attrition. Ar-Tan himself fought as hard as he could, but he was no match for the overwhelming enemy.
Wighar himself suddenly appeared among the fighting, out of nowhere. He marched calmly, undisturbed, as if unnoticed. The creatures fighting Ar-Tan and those surrounding him suddenly disappeared in the heat of the battle. The others seemed unaware of him and were attacking only the remaining elves. Ar-Tan turned and spotted Wighar heading towards him.
"You thought killing a mage like me would be so simple," he laughed.
"Apparently, I have a chance to rectify this mistake.
" "You have a chance. But the loss of the necklace!" the mage shouted.
Wighar reached for the necklace, but the elf stepped back and struck the enemy with his hammer. The mage staggered and fell, but after a moment he got up and tried to cast a spell. Ar-Tan, however, managed to strike him again. The mage rose again, bleeding profusely, as if he hadn't felt the blows at all. The elf, however, continued to strike the mage with his hammer, and he was unable to attack. The elves were losing. The fighting had now moved beyond the embankment, and Adrule and the mercenaries were pushing the defenders back into the village. Ar-Tan was left alone with the mage. After dozens of blows, the weakened Wighar finally collapsed. He knew, however, that the mage was still alive. He had to finish him off. So he drove the pickaxe, the other end of the hammer, into Wighar's skull. This time, the blow proved effective. The spirit left Wighar's body, and one by one, the creatures began to die. With Wighar's soul gone, the power that held them to Zija vanished. Only the mage's guards remained. Those far from the battle began to flee upon seeing what was happening, while the rest were taken prisoner. Ar-Tan ordered them released. However, some, out of gratitude for sparing their lives, remained and offered their servants. Others dispersed to various parts of Keta. When Ramsib, Ar-Tan's brother, reached the village that same evening, there were no traces of the battle. Except for numerous small graves along the road to the village.
Dakeron Ar-Tan returned to Balandal a hero who had restored the honor of the Blue City and his family. A grand ceremony was organized in the courtyard, during which Ar-Tan placed his father's necklace in a glass container. The elves began to cheer, until after a moment Ramsib interrupted the commotion so his brother could speak. He uttered words so beautiful they defy description. When he finished, he raised his hands to the blue sky. Then, from nowhere, Ullfi's angel, Hon, appeared. He descended to Balandal and, floating in midair, touched Ar-Tan. He left his corporeal shell and became a free spirit. Guardian of his beautiful city, caring for its greatness and glory.
After these extraordinary events, the inhabitants of Balandal and the entire Dakeron domain once again became worthy brothers of all elves. The fame of their beautiful city resounded anew with even greater force. And Balandal never knew suffering and sorrow.
Until the time of the Cult.
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