Act II, Scene i: A Quiet Morning

With his new velvet surcoat draped over his shoulder, the pouch of silver tucked into his belt and the bundle of paper in hand Gavin sets off from his tiny cell in the wizard’s tower and down the narrow corridor that sets the acolytes’ quarters off from the apartments of the higher ranking clerks that make up the old wizard’s retinue. Down the twisty stone steps of the tower he goes to the lower levels. At the base of the long flight of steps the bright light floods in from outdoors. Gavin squints and sneezes in the lazy columns of dust that twirl and drift in the warm sunlight. He had forgotten how cold and musty the tower had first seemed to him on his arrival. Stepping out into the light of day to shake the chill from his bones, Gavin notices the yard seems unusually quiet. When he had arrived yesterday and on his previous visits to the tower there was always quite a hubbub on the castle grounds, what with the steady stream of tradesmen and laborers coming and going and the constant drilling of new recruits for the gathering militia. Today must be on off day or holiday perhaps, for the largest crowd in the yard is a herd of small pigs that two boys are having a hard time corralling into their pen. There is no bugle or drum to be heard and no sergeant shouting their commands to a poorly coordinated mass of soldiers learning to march in formation. For that matter the builders must be taking their lunch because there is no scraping of shovels to be heard or sawing or chopping. There are a few old men shoveling dung onto a cart by the south wall but none of the masons’ stone blocks are being hoisted into place where the top course has not yet been laid. “Perhaps they are all down in the village today,” Gavin thinks to himself, but that line of reasoning is cut short by the growl of his stomach. Back across the yard he goes in search of his breakfast.

On the Trail of the Prince of Poets

A shaft of sunlight crawls across the cool dark stone wall of the tiny cell to press it's warm rays against the face and eyelids of the sleeping Gavin. Roused from his slumber by its intrusion, Gavin stumbles for a moment to remember how he came to be in this tiny room. The last thing he remembers well is the perplexing and rather long-winded history lesson being told to him by the doddering old wizard. It isn't at all clear to him how much of the story pertained to his own search for his father, and yet several of the bits and pieces bore a familiarity that lay just beyond conscious memory. It is as if these tales of so long ago by the old man's telling were in fact dimly remembered fragments of Gavin's own past.

It seems so strange to him, now that he considers it, that he should have the vaguest foreknowledge of it. Although Gavin's mother always kept from him the affairs of the outside world he is dimly aware of the notion that the Faerie king had once left his palace in a distant land and wandered in a wild place and through his labors tamed the evil things he found there and made the land safe for people to dwell. It seems to him that the king added this new wild land to his kingdom and set princes to rule there in his stead when he returned once more to his own people in the land beyond the mists. After long ages the Faerie king once more grew restless and yearned to seek lands yet unseen so he left his kingdom in the care of his trusted minister and struck out once more into the uncharted vastnesses of worlds beyond the land of mists. Whereby Gavin came upon this tale he cannot rightly say for surely he never heard it spoken in his mother's house where he dwelt with her alone for all the years of his youth. Nor can he recall what became of the king or his kingdom or anymore of the tale.

Discerning that Gavin had no greater knowledge of these events, the wizard Burne had sought to turn him to his cause, entreating the youth to travel to the city of Llewellyn to aid in the interpretation of some ancient scroll of elven origin which the guild of sages had been unable to decipher. He tried to goad him to this path with the knowledge that the other elven traveler had been spotted of late in the nearby wood and with the tale that his father had himself passed through this city on his flight from the Faerie realm. Why the wizard could not make this journey himself he did not say other than that the city and its environs fell under the purview of another of his kind, the Pyromancer of Bannogallt Bluff by title. Burne spoke not well of this so-called pyromancer, claiming him to have intentions of conquest should he gain the secret of the magic elfroads which permeate the land of men. It seems to Gavin that whether he wishes it or not he is somehow already entangled in this rivalry between the two wizards. Surely the mystery of the elfroad is tied to his own father's second disappearance from the mortal world but without any knowledge of how to find and travel the secret road he can't imagine how else to pick up his father's trail. What seems clear is that if Thomas walked out of Llewellyn and disappeared from the world itself then he did it by way of the elfroad. In order to follow his father's path he will need to find a guide to show him the way.

With that revelation Gavin's mind is at ease. Whether he does the wizard's bidding or not he knows his path is predetermined, for he set out find his father and now he knows how he can achieve that. Throwing off the warm sheepskins that serve as blankets he sits up in the little cot, swings his feet to the rush-covered floor and looks about the narrow room. It is a cell indeed but no prison. Rather he has spent the night in one of the many tiny rooms in which the wizard's acolytes sleep. Upon a tiny writing desk by the single window are the letters penned by the wizard the night before. The first is a commission as an officer in the wizard's private soldiery. The second is a letter of introduction to Eleazar the Scribe in the city of Llewellyn. The third letter is sealed and marked for the eyes of the pyromancer only. The first letter and the embroidered surcoat draped over the chair will allow him to travel with a small retinue of guards on tomorrow's expedition east to Kingsbay on a mission to purchase supplies and recruit new soldiers. From there, if he consents to the wizards plan, he can hire a boat to cross the bay to Llewellyn and seek out the scribe. Once he has crossed the water, though, the coat of arms of the wizard will provide no further protection and may attract unwanted attention so it should be discarded before landing on the other side. The third letter should only be presented in the event that Gavin is arrested by the pyromancer's men. A pouch of silver coins has been provided to cover the expenses of the journey and should Gavin consent to the journey and to assist Eleazar he will be be paid in gold for his troubles. Otherwise he is free to take the silver for his troubles and do what he will. Strangely the wizard made no further mention of the other traveler beyond the admonition not to seek him beyond the gates of Llewellyn. Why he speak of it at first and then drop the subject suddenly Gavin cannot quite fathom.

In any case, he thinks to himself, the day is wearing on and he is eager to break his fast. It's far better to make decisions on a full stomach than on an empty one. With that in mind he gathers up his belongings and the new items bestowed on him by the wizard and heads down to the kitchens to see what is available to eat.

The Pyromancer of Bannogallt Bluff

Two men, one young and one old, sit by the meager warmth of a fading fire in a high chamber of a cold stone tower. The old man takes a sip from his glass of claret to soothe his throat gone hoarse from the telling of his tale. He pulls his heavy robe tightly around his neck and leans forward to stir up the embers with a long handled poker. He turns back to the young man and continues. "My tale is almost at an end and what happens next is perhaps up to you. I told you that the Pyromancer of Bannogallt has taken up the search for this elf messenger but I have not explained the full weight of that statement. The Pyromancer was once much like myself a faithful acolyte of the Grand Seer and a believer in the mission of the college of wizards, that being to develop our arts and sciences to further the well-being and enlightenment of all men. In recent years, however, he has become increasingingly entangled in political affairs and has grown keen to expand the boundaries of his little barony. He has gathered a mercenary army which he commands through his flame adepts and employs in an attempt to extort fealty from his neighbors. These are the actions of a petty warlord and unbecoming of a wizard. Why this behavior is tolerated by the Grand Seer is unknown to me.

It worries me greatly that Pyromancer has been entrusted with the pursuit of this mysterious traveler from the White Isles. It is clear that the traveler has been making use of the ancient and mystical and thus far evading our agents thereby. The council of wizards recognizes that the power to navigate the elf-road is nearly as valuable as whatever other secret the messenger may carry with him.

Tracing the Path

Burne pushes aside the stacks of books and sheets of vellum to make room to spread out a map of the Isles. He moves his outstretched fingers over a spot on the map to orient Gavin. "Here somewhere in the black forest in the far north of Alaron at the end of the ancient elfroad sits the throne of the Erlking. No human kingdom has ever reached into those untamed lands. To the east of that in the Sea of Swords is the island nation of Mintarn; the kingdom of Berinmor, the white king of the sea. In ages past the white king was a staunch ally of the high king of the Ffolk at Caer Callidyrr and his elven ships could be seen at every port along the coast. Since the time of Oberon's departure from the throne Berinmor has focused his fleet on defense of the white isles and has long since cut off contact the human nations. Caer Callidyrr is home to the Grand Seer of the Opaline Tower, one-time advisor to the High King and of a magus of the highest order. The Grand Seer has ever kept his eye upon the waters between Mintarn and the dark north, scanning for elven traffic. In the months since midwinter night the Seer had seen faerie fires burning in the night at points along the deserted northern coasts and storms rage at sea. It was supposed that these might be the signs of melee between elven armies. It is not clear to us who was the winner of these battles but we know that shortly after the last of them a lone elven traveler was spotted at the northern crossroads. The agents of the Grand Seer followed the traveler south over many miles of wild country until the trail disappeared atop a mountain ridge which had been blasted by lightning in a sudden storm.

"The Seer notified the order of wizards of this silent intruder and a watch was set at every known location of ancient elven magic between Callidyrr and Doncastle. The traveler was spotted again at the ancient stone circle east of Halwynffen moving still southward over open ground on a parallel course to the kingsroad. We believe this emissary from Mintarn was able to to outpace us at each leg of the journey by traveling from place to place along the elfroad in and out of Faerie while our agents were slog through rough terrain. Orders were issued to the Pyromancer of Bannogallt Bluff to send his six flame adepts out to attempt to intercept the traveler here just north of Bregonshire, where the land narrows between the bluffs on the west coast and Rushdown Wood to the east.

The Gathering Storm

Now the late afternoon sun streaks across the chamber and paints the wizard's study in shades of honey and amber. The old wizard pulls himself up from his chair and crossed the chamber to the fireplace. He stirs up the last embers of the morning's fire and tosses a new bundle of sticks onto the coals. After a long pause he returns his gaze to Gavin who is scanning the documents spread out on the table before him trying to figure out his role in these events. Burne draws in a breath and launches once more into his tale.

"These matters remain largely invisible to the kingdoms of men. The days of trade and discourse with the elves are long past and their accounts are resigned to dusty tomes. To your kind our memories must seem short indeed. It is only old men like me who can recall the last of those days. Yet everyone can see that splendor of the past is waning. The reign of kings gets shorter and bloodier and each new usurper to the throne rules over an ever shrinking domain. The untamed lands between kingdoms grow fiercer and few risk travel along the old King's Road. Strangers once welcomed are now treated with suspicion. All who can remember better times sense that there is worse still to come but most have resigned themselves to fate.

"Maybe we men of old had the luxury of being dreamers in our youth that is not to be had now but we knew that there was more to the world than could be seen and touched and tasted. We devoted ourselves to the arcane arts which had been all but forgotten. We pored over the lore surrounding the world that was and means of our study came to learn much about that realm of Faerie which touches our world but is not of our world. We have seen the awesome power of the wild realms of chaos that lie beyond even your world and invade into ours only when the Seelie court cannot hold back those unwholesome tides. Indeed there are some who, being corrupt in their very hearts, seek to align themselves with the chaos and become its servants in exchange for sorcerous power and dominion over mortal men. We remember well the last time that such a despot rose to power. It was only through the combined effort of elves and men that his dark army was defeated and his tower broken. It seemed for many years that the dark times were behind us but now it seems that a shadow has again fallen across the land.

"But you had asked me what can be done to stop these unfortunate events. Alas, while the members of my order have compiled a great deal of information about the past we can only guess at the course of the future. Since the gates of Faerie have closed to outsiders there has been more speculation about the current state of affairs than hard facts. That is why we we have developed such a keen interest in any soul that ventures from out those lands. That is why we have kept so close an eye on you. Many years ago, at the start of this course of events, we should have watched your father as closely. Had we done so he would not have slipped away so easily. Now we are forced to investigate every mention of his name in the hopes that it will bring us closer to the man himself. We hoped to have from him directly the tale of what caused him to flee the Faerie lands on the very eve of the sundering of the Seelie court."