The Sidhe elf sighed as he momentarily unshouldered both his burning hate and his physical burdens. He stood in a knot of great cypress trees on the edge of the fields east of SilverSpring. It was cold. Frost dusted the dead tree leaves in the grass. The air was gray, shrouded in the still melancholy of a waning autumn. The muddy earth beyond the fields of SilverSpring was dotted with brakes and copses of surviving cattails and other wetland plants: ilexs, mosses, lilies, creepers, and reeds tall and thick. With caution Corvus had darted from fen to fen - unseen by the fell eyes of D'Sparil's servants - until he had come to the very threshold of the city.

Beyond the mires were the desecrated fields surrounding the city. In the past they had been farms well ordered and tended, but now were filled with hideous growths that sprang from the remains of unburied dead. Twisting paths, the wreckage of former roads, crawled worm-like through the fields towards the city. Each road was decorated with the bones of ancient victims, lying in piles around spikes and poles where Sidhe had been impaled or crucified. The fields extended a league or more to the east of the city. To the south was a great bay and haven where docks collapsing into flotsam fell into the sea. There Corvus as a boy had dived for shells and other hidden treasures of the water. Now the waters were stagnant and tainted. The only things hidden in the bay were terrors best left undisturbed.

And then the city rose up like a specter. SilverSpring it once had been, but was not so now. The City of the Damned it was called, its former name - as with the tranquility the whole world had known - forgotten or lost except by a few who now hid in fear and spoke of the city with dread. Walls, crumbled with time and rotted with neglect, jutted from the ground like sickened teeth. Buildings inhabited by vile creatures stood like tombs, mausoleums of the families that had died there. The stench of rot and filth untold rose from the city, an invisible cloud that darkened the mind and poisoned the body. Even the wild plants that grew unchecked outside eastern walls seemed unholy - bent shoots and brambles like the clasped and intertwined fingers of a clawed hand. This was SilverSpring as all but the Sidhe now remembered it. A place so long steeped in evil and tutored in cruelty that no other way of life could be envisioned or recalled.

Corvus rested, crossing his legs and wrapping himself in the moving dream that is the sleep of the elven race. He cast the hood of his cloak over his face and walked in the ways of his mind, there finding the sustenance his weary body needed to go on and claim the vengeance his will demanded. As all the Sidhe, Corvus was of two worlds at once. His body walked the world of men as did other mortals - but his spirit (as much himself as his body) dwelt in the ether which mortal men knew only as the Other Side. Hours passed as water in a stream while Corvus rested and fed his body with the fires of his will's wrath.

The thoughts Corvus had could not be understood by mortals. Were men to take part in such visions they would be consumed with fire unquenchable, and little of them could be understood. Mixtures of the past combined with tints of the future on a palette of the present, painting a picture to the Sidhe that men cannot see. But Corvus saw, and the visions filled his heart with anger.

He saw the Sidhe as they were in the deeps of time and how they stretched like a line of silver through the ages. He saw the world lain out before him with all its peoples and the place they had in the scheme of things. And then came the darkness from Outside. The Serpent Riders had now tarnished the Sidhe thread, all but cutting it off completely. Now the whole world was black in his sight, and the blackness had a name: D'Sparil.

Memories of his people's destruction still at times unbidden arose in Corvus' mind. He had stood near the circle of Elders as they extinguished the candles that tied the world to the Sidhe. Tyketto, Delmintalitar, Valador, Darchala, Inhilicon, Torpol, and other great ones of his race had the mastery over the mortals of Parthoris - the unwitting pawns of D'Sparil. But the powers called upon that day had exacted their price. D'Sparil had been foiled, but his arm was long and he had weapons besides the deceived races. Corvus remembered how in a sundered moment the weakened Sidhe had fallen. Those that survived D'Sparil's enchantment were attacked by his minions, creatures erupting from the earth as though the division between dark dream and waking world had been violently shorn and the denizens of an uneasy sleeper's nightmare made real. Few had escaped.

Corvus had been one. The others were hidden, trying to preserve the Sidhe with what power they still retained. Corvus, against their advice, had taken another road. At a very young age he had learned that one could not conquer the darkness by retreating from it; it must be dispelled by the light. He had traveled by night for many months to return to SilverSpring and purify it.

Here D'Sparil's power and realm on Parthoris now centered. The dark armies led by the disciples of D'Sparil ranged all over the continent, perhaps over the entire world. But in the former realm of the Sidhe that wickedness had its source.

D'Sparil and his brothers Korax and Eidolon knew when they came from Outside that the Sidhe were their greatest threat. The Sidhe were not like the mortals of Parthoris. They saw the Serpent Riders for what they were - abominations not meant for the realm of ether. The Sidhe could be broken by them, but they would not serve them nor could they be deceived by them.

The Sidhe were not wise, in those early years. They did not act against the Serpent Riders; they watched and waited - attempting in vain to persuade the peoples of Parthoris to expel them from their kingdoms. Instead the mortals ignored the advice of the Sidhe elders, succumbing to the seductive power the Serpent Riders offered them.

As the years passed the mortal kingdoms increased in enmity towards the Sidhe. The Serpent Riders were worshipped as gods, and their dogma spoke only of hatred towards the elven people. The Sidhe were heretical, shunned by all. Many elves withdrew from the cities they had built among mortals, retreating into their own secret strongholds against the evil days ahead. The abandoned cities were either razed or taken by the Serpent Riders, and they set up strongholds and fastnesses there to mock the Sidhe and to encourage mortals to no longer fear the elves. SilverSpring had been one of the first to be abandoned, many Sidhe fell into the hands of the mortals who took it.

When the Sidhe learned that Krovax and Eidolon had abandoned the world, and that only D'Sparil remained, they had taken hope. More time passed, and the mortal kingdoms struggled against each other at their evil master's bidding. The elves, recognizing the time was ripe for action, began to send out armies to foray against D'Sparil. But the mortals of Parthoris had rallied against the Sidhe, and their assembled might could have destroyed them. In a battle against the elves, however, the mortal kingdoms would also have been destroyed. This mutual destruction, the Sidhe knew, was intended by D'Sparil - who only desired death for all that dwelt on Parthoris.

The Sidhe enchantment that smote the mortal kingdoms disrupted that plan. D'Sparil, however, had long prepared to assault the Sidhe. When his mortal servants were gone he unleashed his demonic minions on the elves, who were revealed to D'Sparil at the moment of their triumph. These creatures of the night, spawned or magically summoned, were new to Parthoris. The Sidhe knew of them, sensing them from afar as tears in the fabric of the ether. And the Sidhe knew from whence they came.

D'Sparil's fastnesses lay not on the lands of Parthoris - but in the seas north of SilverSpring. Corvus could sense them like a wounded man could sense his own injuries, offensive and painful. The strongholds were filled with his creatures and they galled him; he yearned to be rid of their presence. And he would be rid of them, even if the only way was with the edge of a sword. But Corvus did not know how to reach them. He knew only that the cities abandoned by the Sidhe were where the power of D'Sparil's realm began. He hoped there to learn what he needed to invade D'Sparil's palaces and take him to task for his crimes.

And Corvus returned to the world with that thought. It was the morning of yet another hopeless day on Parthoris and the sky was still wrapped in the perpetual cloak of gray cloud that had dimmed the sun since the time the Sidhe had sundered the link between themselves and the world. Corvus rose from the moist earth and stood, feeling cold airs blow from the north. The clouds hurried by - dim uncertain shapes above that in the distance to the west stroked the earth with veils of rain. It was time, and Corvus felt a curious anxiety mixed with anticipation at the advent of his revenge. SilverSpring stood before him unmoving.

Corvus drew forth his wand. He could feel its warmth in his hands, comforting him in the cold wetness of the sad world. The thin rod of two feet, runes and sigils of power running its length, ended with a bright yellow crystal. This was the weapon of the Sidhe, and it was linked to Corvus' own soul and drew power from it. When he so wished it would burst forth with his anger, twisting the ether with fire. The strength came not from the wand, but from the will of the Sidhe that held it.

Corvus exited his hiding place and began to cross the fields before SilverSpring. He half expected D'Sparil's creatures to immediately rise from the earth as they did when his people fell. But Corvus met no resistance, and indeed no sign that his presence was even heeded as he crossed the fields. The signs of death and evil there he ignored, though they stirred his heart with anguish for those who once he had known that had suffered such despicable acts.

The city gates had been in disrepair for years and were now heaps of rubble that partly sealed the city against entry. Corvus instead slipped south along the walls until he came to the remnants of the docks. He knew these places well, and hoped here to gain some advantage over the demons he would face. There was a door along the southern wall where a small guard had been kept when Corvus was young. The door was broken and lay in shards on the earth. Webs were on the jamb, and beyond them - darkness. Corvus felt every grain under his boots, heard every rustle and felt every air in that moment of decision. And into SilverSpring he plunged, like a diver into deep waters.

Much was as he remembered it. The guardhouse opened into a small storage area where barrels of goods had been unloaded when ships docked. Barrels were here still, though all were moldered and broken like tombstones amid the wooden pillars of the room. Beyond the room to the south was the main docking area.
As Corvus' eyes adjusted to the gloom he saw a thing he had forgotten. To the west beyond a small cluster of barrels was the faint outline of a door. It seemed untouched. He stepped furtively to this door and pressed a hidden catch. The dock guards had a cache of weapons and armor in this small room, cautionary tokens of vigilance in times of peace. Corvus searched the rusted and aged weapons for some tool that might aid him, but found that only a lone shield that was still serviceable. The shield was little more than a buckler, but its solid feel on his arm comforted him.

He left the hidden room and went east, passing the open dock. His goal was not to explore the haunts of his youth - but to pass into the further reaches of the city to learn how he might seek out D'Sparil himself. The dungeons were his goal. He knew how to get to them. The eastern door from the guard area opened into a passage with a door to the north that led to a set of stairs. The dungeon gate was near the head of those stairs, but Corvus was stopped. A portcullis had been lowered and the passage east was barred. Corvus knew this barrier, but thought it would have been destroyed. D'Sparil it seemed retained the wisdom of security. The portcullis, despite the dotage of SilverSpring, seemed almost new. The steel was strong and he could not force it.

Corvus turned back to the guard chamber and peered out into the docks. It was not empty. Above in the air were many gargoyles. These beasts were not soldiers, nor strong warriors, but they were dangerous when many were grouped together. Claws and fangs they had, and others there were that breathed fire - the captains of their kind. Corvus gripped his wand and leapt into the room - casting ether-fire at the nearest of his foes.

The creatures hissed and rasped as they became aware of him. Corvus felt as if time slowed around him and the actions of his enemies were like a dream. He watched himself almost with dispassion as he fought the creatures. First one and then another died, collapsing into the shallow waters.

And then it ended. Five at least lay at his feet, dead or dying. And Corvus, Sidhe of the Firstborn, was alone again. He remembered a time when he mourned the loss of any living thing. No more. These deaths brought him a grim pleasure alien to his race, a taste he relished, though it was sour to his mouth.

Corvus ascended a raised stair to the west that bordered the large open docking area. At the stairs end was the quartermaster's office. As a boy he had often stood in the office (the quartermaster had been a kind soul, and suddenly Corvus wondered what had become of him) and watched as ships came to SilverSpring. To the south, not far from the office, was a large portcullis where small ships could enter the docking area to unload. Past the portcullis was a shallow haven for ships and beyond that the bay to the sea.

The office was now empty. Corvus remembered, however, that there once had been a key to the main portcullis that barred his way to the dungeon. This key the quartermaster had kept in a safe. Corvus found the safe, hidden still behind a wall panel. A few blows from his staff shattered the aged hinges and in the safe he saw the key, a yellow diamond of crystal, unsullied by time. Corvus took it and raced back to the portcullis east of the guard area.

The key slid into the lock and the portcullis, crafted by elven smiths, could now be raised easily. As he stepped into the passage, Corvus was immediately attacked by golems set to guard the pass. These creatures, if creatures they could be called, were among the most abominable of D'Sparil's creations. Made of crudely shaped stone they were held together by the vile arcane arts of the disciples of D'Sparil. Inside these monsters dwelt the imprisoned souls of mortal men - which animated the golems. They had given up their mortal bodies in exchange for immortal bodies, escaping the bonds of flesh. But immortality came at a cost, a cost which the disciples of D'Sparil hid. The golems were bound to their masters and could not act save at their behest. Thus imprisoned and enslaved the golems were filled with rage that they could not turn on any save those their masters commanded.

Corvus unleashed elven-fire upon them. More than any of D'Sparil's servants, the golems offended him. On they came like juggernauts, seeming immune the power of the elf rod. Then one split apart, collapsing into a pile of rocks while the imprisoned spirit vanished with a wail into the ether towards whatever damnation awaited it. The others fell as Corvus retreated from them. The golems were slow and could not close with Corvus to strike him with their unnatural strength.

Corvus felt weary after this battle and knew even his Sidhe strength could not long sustain such intense use of the elven wand. As he passed the fallen golems, however, he saw something in the corner of his eye. A small, ethereal crystal gleamed in the stones. As he leaned over to touch it he recognized it. It was the welled strength of the spirit he had vanquished.

Only the Sidhe could see these crystals - for they existed only in the realm of ether. Elven eyes could descry them, and elven hands could harness their power. All souls, Sidhe or mortal, carried the crystals in one form or another. They housed the spirit as it traveled through the ether. The crystals, it would seem, could be used by the disciples of D'Sparil to create the terrible creatures that now comprised their armies. At his touch the ether crystal yielded it's strength up to Corvus - replenishing him.

And yet this disturbed Corvus - this raping of the power of the ether. If D'Sparil's minions were, as he feared, all akin then they could only be forever dispelled by the death of D'Sparil himself. A great strength was needed to forge a body that was fit to mortally house the crystals. The disciples of D'Sparil lacked this strength. The Serpent Riders, Corvus deemed, lent their power to these creations and even if the monsters were beaten they could be raised again. All the more reason, he thought, to hasten D'Sparil's end.

Corvus continued eastwards, coming to the entrance that led north to the dungeon. A portcullis blocked the passage. Corvus had feared that if one portcullis has been closed then they all would be. The gate, which was designed to prevent the escape of prisoners from the dungeon area, now stopped him from entering. Corvus did not know where the key had been bestowed, and was at a loss.

Undaunted, he decided to search the other areas of the docks. Undoubtedly one of D'Sparil's servants held the key. He would find it and take it. He turned east to the door that led to the storage rooms where stuffs from the docks were often held. Opening it quietly he peered around the corner where a hallway extended to the south. Along the east and west walls were several doors leading to storage rooms. The hall opened into a large circular room with open windows looking out into the ship haven.

Corvus saw no one in the hallway and searched the rooms to the east and west, hoping among the barrels and cases to find the key to the dungeons. Instead he found only golems and gargoyles. In the close quarters of the storage rooms he was not able to avoid the creatures easily, and several times he was battered by stony fists or raked by sharp claws.

The Sidhe, however, were not easily slain. They were strong, and even when wounded could battle on. Also, the elves were able to draw strength from the ether itself to knit their torn flesh. This blessing came in the form of ethereal flasks and jars that held powerful magic. Being of the ether, they could only be seen by the Sidhe, and so were untouched by D'Sparil's creatures. These items were not common, and it was only occasionally that Corvus would find them among the littered remains of SilverSpring. Still, they gave him the vitality necessary to recover from the wounds incurred at the hands of his spawned enemies.

Corvus leaned wearily against the southern wall of the eastern storage room. He had slain all of the gargoyles that had their dens in this disheveled chamber. Cobwebs waved in the draft and gave the room an unkempt appearance, almost like a close and shaggy gray clearing in a long deserted garden. As he rested he could hear the waves of the sea to the south, rushing faintly into the haven. In the still chamber he heard another noise. To the north, where he had already been, he heard the faint sound of drawn air - the cautious breathing of a thing that wished to hide.

Fearing some other creature of D'Sparil, Corvus silently stepped towards the sound. As he drew closer, he could sense that some creature was concealed in one of the barrels along the north wall. Corvus kicked the barrel and it collapsed, weakened by age. A dark figure fell from the wreck and dived away from Corvus, but the elf swiftly grappled and held it. A ray of hope and happiness came over him, for he knew on sight that this was not a servant of the Dark one. It was Sidhe.
"Leave me be! Leave me be!" cried the ragged figure. But Corvus would not release him.

"Be silent and be still!" he hissed in the figure's ear. Gladness was in Corvus' heart, but the situation demanded wariness. In another time and place he would have greeted any of his race with kind words, but in the City of the Damned he dared not risk alerting the minions of his enemy that may yet lie in wait.

The figure ceased to struggle and slumped onto the cold stone floor. Corvus released his hold and turned the figure about. With a gasp he saw the face of the quartermaster Varthis, who had once been the Sidhe in charge of the entire dock. Pity touched Corvus as he looked, however, for Varthis was now almost skeletal, his clothes in tatters, and his fair face pinched with terror long endured.

Varthis too paused as he regarded Corvus, and the windows of his memory - grimed with disuse - slowly cleared. A sudden expelling of breath, an expression of unforeseen hope, escaped him.

"Am I deceived again?" he asked. "Do the apparitions of the past now come to haunt my tortured mind, or are you indeed Corvus? Speak now and either dispel or confirm my joy."

"I am he," replied Corvus. "Your eyes are not false, nor is your mind weak. I have come back."

Varthis' face darkened again. "You should not have come. Death is here. Pain is here. You must leave now and never return."

"Pain and Death stalk the whole of Parthoris. Why flee them here only to find them elsewhere? I will not leave. I have come to vanquish D'Sparil and I will not rest until I conquer or perish." Corvus spoke grimly, but feared that his words would upset his friend.

"It has been long since you were here. The boy that troubled me in my office has grown into a strong man with hate in his eyes. But your hate alone will not carry you far. I have seen horrors that none should see, and I know better than you the greatness of your undertaking. Abandon your hate and live what life you can before the end comes; do not rush to destruction. Soon our people will wither and go out and then the night will fall. Your hate cannot stop that." Varthis wept at his own words.

"None of us are now as we once were," said Corvus gently. "Horrors you have seen, and so have we all. But what life we ought to live should not change merely because we have suffered. Our people are the keepers of Parthoris, and we have a duty to heal and to preserve. And how can that be done while D'Sparil lives? We will wither and go out you say? That will surely be if we hide in shadows to be discovered and taken. My hatred has shown me that D'Sparil must perish, and I will not abandon it for it carries me to him. What if I perish sooner? Better that I perish in a bitter end on behalf of Parthoris than to die having stood only for preserving myself."

"You are resolute," said Varthis, but his face was still lowly. "If I cannot save you from your folly perhaps I can delay your end. I myself am weak and cannot give battle. But it was not always so - I was strong and hardy. Come with me and shall give you a thing that may help you on your way."

"I came expecting to find only enemies to oppose me." Said Corvus. "To find a friend willing to aid me is a boon beyond my asking. I will come with you."

Varthis nodded and rose up limping. Corvus lent his shoulder to his friend and Varthis took it, leading back to the west and south. Corvus noted with anguish Varthis' limp, and that he cringed at every sound and started at every touch - injuries, impulses and habits built up by his lengthy discomfiture.

"How is it you have survived here when all others have left or been killed? Have you eluded D'Sparil for this long only with the slats of a barrel? Were you prisoner? If not, why have you not fled?" he asked of Varthis.

"I cannot say why I have been spared," said Varthis. "Though I am certain it was not done out of kindness. I have been beaten and tormented many times - but always I have been freed at the point of death and allowed to crawl away and slowly heal. Perhaps it amuses the cruelty of the captain of D'Sparil's forces here to keep me in agony - for he knows I once was the master of this place."

"And who is this captain?" said Corvus with heat. The thought of this injustice stirred his wrath anew.

Varthis paused as they reached the northern end of the hall. "Such hatred, Corvus? You should be wary of these feelings for they are not of the Sidhe. Only evil can come of them, in the end. D'Sparil will not be bested by hate or fear. Those are his weapons, and they cannot bring him harm no matter who wields them."

"And yet they have brought me thus far." Replied Corvus. "Mayhap they will carry me farther on my road to D'Sparil than other weapons."

"Mayhap," said Varthis. "But perhaps when you arrive there you will not like what you have become."

"That I shall see," he said.

Varthis then looked about carefully, searching to see any that might be watching - and finally, satisfied, he opened a door in the north wall. This door Corvus had not known as a boy, when SilverSpring was his haunt. It was cleverly hidden, and even his Sidhe eyes had not seen it. The door opened into a small chamber of ornate design, still lovely and clean. It was a strange thing amid the battered docks. Here were several small boxes, a few barrels, and a blanket stained with use. Varthis quickly led Corvus in and shut the door.

"This place was once a store for precious goods that came to the city," he said. "It has so far escaped discovery, and here I come when I have the chance to enter it unseen. And yet," here he sighed, "it is but a room. It does not feed me, nor protect me from evil. I dare not stay here long for fear I will be missed and sought out. But hither I retreat for the rare moments of peace I have."

"You have not said yet why you do not leave," said Corvus. "What lure or dread bond chains you to this fetid city if, as you say, you are spared from death and not held by locks?"

"The lure of life and the bond of fear are my tethers," he said with bitterness, briefly recalling somewhat of his former pride. "The captain of this place keeps me as if an ill-treated pet. If I am not found when he desires to exercise his sick will upon me he will send his servants to retrieve me. When the city first came into D'Sparil's hands I was captured by the mortals that were sent to take this place. I was allowed to live because at that time the city was still useful as a port and staging area, and my expertise was misused to the advantage of our enemies. The city sank by degrees into further decay, and I was kept as prisoner in the dungeons.

"When I felt the Sidhe cut themselves off from Parthoris I rejoiced, for my captors perished and unlooked for it seemed my captivity would end. But within moments my guards were replaced by servants more fell than all before.

"For months now I have endured the captain of this place - a foul creature of the undead. He names himself Draxus; he is cruel and malicious. He released me from my prison and I tried to flee, but he sent to bring me back and beat me for leaving. If I leave again he will perhaps slay me. I am in a prison again, but a prison whose only bar is my own cowardice. I am too weak to flee, and my lameness will not allow me to outpace Draxus' creatures. So I stay, hating the life I lead but loving it too much to take the only escape left me - death." Varthis ended, sinking onto his blanket.

Corvus was stirred to sorrow, but found no words of comfort. His hate found voice, however, where his pity did not. "This I swear to you, Varthis," he said, "that this day will not pass but Draxus will lie at your feet and either beg your forgiveness or depart to the Outside."

Varthis looked at Corvus, also with pity in his eyes. "I do not desire such vengeance as you seek, Corvus of the Sidhe. I am not a strong or brave man any longer, but I retain my wisdom. Your goal is noble, and perhaps even worthy of the Sidhe. But your heart is not right, and I fear this reckless anger of yours will lead you to an evil end. Beware, and heed my words."

"I will. But I also retain wisdom. And that wisdom tells me to press on. You said you had a thing that would aid me? What is it?"

Varthis paused for a moment, as if considering, and then crawled to a small box in the corner. He motioned for Corvus to come closer. Corvus obeyed, and watched as the quartermaster opened the dark wooden lid. The inside was cushioned with red velvet, and in the velvet nestled two large gauntlets. They were of bright silver, untarnished, studded with steel and graven with many runes.

"These are the Gauntlets of the Necromancer," said Varthis. "They were forged by Tyketto and draw great power from the ether. They will not aid you unless you draw close to your foes, but then they are more potent than other weapons. They are not to be used carelessly, or against great numbers. But if your enemies are few and close, they are deadly."

"I thank you," said Corvus. He took the gauntlets and fit them on his hands. The seemed to hum with anticipation and he felt the power of the ether in them.
"Also I can give you news," said Varthis. "Past the storage rooms to the south in the round chamber are two halls, one open and one secret. The open hall is empty. The secret hall lies past a concealed door in the west wall. Follow this and you will come to a ledge along the east wall of the docking area where my office once was. The ledge leads to the north and east, to concealed alcoves where goods were once held. Perhaps there you will find other things that can help you."

"The portcullis leading to the dungeons. Have you the key? It is locked and I cannot pass."

"The key is held by Draxus," said Varthis. "He keeps it on his person and will only open it upon the orders of his masters."

"And where is Draxus, this captain that torments you?" asked Corvus.

"He has his dwelling in a sheltered dock in the haven. To reach it you must open the door to the portal. This can be found by going south from here to the open, empty hall. There you will find a switch. Press it and the door to the portal will open in the north wall of the round chamber. But I beg you to not pursue Draxus. He is deadly."

"Pursue him I must, if he has the key. He will yield it up to me - either free or forced."

"Good fortune to you, young Corvus," said Varthis. "Lonely and without reward is the path you have chosen. I hope you will not come to grief upon it."

"And what of you?" asked Corvus. "You will not fight, and no blame lies on you - but nothing stands now between you and freedom. Will you not go from here and find what peace you still can?"

Varthis sat in thought and shook his head. "And where would I go, Corvus? Our people are fallen and few are the places of safety. I have not the strength for long searching. Here I will remain, for at least I know I will not perish, though I buy life in exchange for pain."

"Stay then," said Corvus kindly. "At the least I will give you rest for a time from your tortures. Perhaps if hope does not fail us you may yet see Parthoris redeemed."

"I share in that hope with you, my friend. Go. May the stars shine upon you, and your path lead you to the rest of Elvenhome."

"I fear," replied Corvus, "that no light of star, sun, or moon will shine where I go."

With that he left Varthis, resting in his chamber. Corvus was grieved at the parting. Varthis was wretched and held no true hope any longer. But Corvus could not both wait on him and fulfill his spiteful geas.

Corvus went north and found the round chamber as Varthis has said. In it there were golems, but they were few in number. Corvus slew them using the gauntlets, saving his strength for confronting Draxus. Varthis had spoken truly when he told Corvus of the gauntlets' worth. They were enchanted to be collectors of the ether. Unlike his wand, they did not exact strength from Corvus. Instead they channeled the ether of their own power, and when Corvus concentrated that power would burst forth, crackling and hissing. When close, this ether would engulf an enemy, dancing like lightening. Few creatures could withstand such magic long. After the last golem died Crovus opened the hidden door in the west wall and searched the ledge and storage tunnels, thinking it wise to look for other weapons. His search proved fruitful.

The north end of the storage tunnel was filled with debris and choked with webs, but in a box he found a great treasure. Another Sidhe weapon was still there in the dust. It was ignored by all, for it could not be used by any but the Sidhe. A simple crossbow in shape, but without crank or string. A broken toy it would seem to other races, or trash to be discarded, but in the hands of a Sidhe warrior it was a powerful tool - able to hurl triple bolts of ether. It required great strength to use, greater strength than his elven wand could channel. Corvus watched as he raised it up and cleaned the dirt and webs from it. As if in response to his touches the groove of the bow filled with green bolts, dim at the fletches but brightening to sharp flaring points at the tip. With this weapon Corvus felt greater assurance. Retracing his steps he came to the round chamber again, taking the hall to the north and pressing the hidden catch.

Returning to the round chamber again he found the portal near the entrance. Darchala was the sage that had created the portals and taught their use to the Sidhe and other races. He had been a crafty weaver of spells, specializing in the art of movement. The portals had long served to unite the Sidhe realms, but now they served the Dark one. One did not have to be Sidhe to use such tools, and undoubtedly an abuse of this artifact was what had allowed D'Sparil to send his minions against the unprepared elves on the fateful day of their deaths. The portal was beautiful still, a ruby platform glittering with magical power and emblazoned with the sigil of chaos - the rune of the magic of motion.

Corvus paused for a moment, taking breath, and then stepped into the portal. The world warped as ether was rent asunder and in a splintered second Corvus stood in the northeast corner of the ship haven. Gargoyles immediately set upon him. Unleashing the ethereal bolts of his Sidhe bow he scattered the creatures like cut grass and turned west.

The haven was actually a shallow dam in which ships came to unload their burdens. The water could be drained and refilled at need. Only ankle deep water, filled with algae and rotting plants, now remained. In the north wall of the middle haven there was once a guard house where ships were cleared to enter the city. Corvus there had sold shells to people in the city, and then it had been a warm, friendly building. Now it was decrepit, and it leaned crazily as the dock upon which it sat had slowly sunk into the mud. It was there Corvus knew that Draxus must be.

A sound met him as he stepped from the portal into the haven. The echoing breath of the undead. Armored and tall, they came at him, hurling great axes. The axes were evil mockeries of the power the Sidhe held over the ether, but the undead had not this power. Their power came as a gift from D'Sparil - a vile manifestation of the potencies that dwelt Outside the ether.

There were not many of these creatures, but they were fell and Corvus exhausted his strength with the crossbow in dispatching only two of them. They were strong like the Sidhe, and would take dreadful wounds without seeming to feel pain. Corvus was far swifter than they, however, and he dodged their axes as drew his wand forth. It was a hard battle, but Corvus' skill was greater and his wrath stronger, and one by one the undead were vanquished.

But he had not obtained victory yet. Even as the last of the undead crumpled, a hiss rose. An undead warrior greater than the others - taller and more horrible - burst from the wooden guardhouse. He was faint, difficult to see even in the relative brightness of the open sky. With fear Corvus realized he could see through the creature as if it were smoky glass. Half of this world and half of the world Outside was this perversion, strong and terrible. His face was a skull covered with tattered flesh, and his eyes were vacant but for a poisonous light. It held in its hand an axe that was red. Draxus, captain of D'Sparil, wight of darkness came at Crovus. What deadly past he had no person but D'Sparil could say. He was cruel and a great intelligence and malice was in him.

"WHO ARE YOU, SIDHE?" Draxus said, "WHY HAVE YOU COME? DEATH ONLY AWAITS YOU, OR ENDLESS PUNISHMENT IN THE HALL OF MY MASTER".

Corvus paused, catching his breath and cursing the squandering of his strength with the crossbow. "I am the doom that awaits all of your kind," he said at last, "And that doom I have come to share with you."

Draxus laughed, a chilling thing to hear. "YOU HAVE FIRE IN YOU, SIDHE," he said. "COME. TRY YOUR GIFT OF DOOM WITH ME." Draxus leapt at Corvus, bringing his axe down in a dreadful stroke with unearthly speed. Corvus scarce had time to bring his shield up to ward the blow. The axe, driven with spite or enchanted with evil, split the shield asunder. Corvus dived away into the mud, firing wildly with his wand, pain erupting in his arm.

Draxus laughed again and pursued him, his axe falling like a hammer as he struck at Corvus. Corvus gained his feet and backed away - firing with his wand as he did. But Draxus shrugged off the ether-fire and came on. Corvus eluded his enemy for a time, but Draxus showed no signs of tiring, and Corvus no longer had the strength to use his wand. The gauntlets he raised up, and they crackled with ethereal power - but how could he bring them to bear and avoid the weapon of his enemy?

Corvus cautiously halted in his retreat, allowing Draxus to come closer. Draxus, sensing the weakness of his foe, pressed him with great speed. As he neared, Corvus unleashed the energy of the gauntlets and Draxus was smitten. But he was not beaten, and he swept his axe sideways. Too soon, for the axe blade did not meet flesh - but the haft struck Corvus and he was flung to the mud. Dazed, Corvus saw his death coming.

Draxus stooped over him, raising his axe for the deathblow. But he cried with pain as suddenly from behind a figure struck him. It was Varthis. Unnoticed he had come as Draxus and Corvus dueled. Limping and weak, but with a light in his eyes he smote Draxus with a knife. His blow was not heavy, but was guided by skill into the chink of Draxus' breastplate, dealing him a mortal wound.

But Draxus was a warrior hardened by the power of his master, and cunning with many battles. A swift stroke he dealt to Varthis, wasting no words on the elf who he had tormented. As the axe descended Corvus, dizzy with pain forced himself up and he leapt on Draxus with a cry. The gauntlets hummed with power and Corvus plunged them into the back of his enemy as he turned. With a shriek of hate and agony Draxus fell - the spell tying him to the realm of ether broken, his axe falling from his hands.

"Varthis!" shouted Corvus, staggering over the body of Draxus.

But Varthis did not answer. He lay dead in the water, his body cloven by the last blow of Draxus in his ruin. A smile decorated his face as he lay, and a peace was in his countenance that had not been then for uncounted days.

Corvus was stung with tears at this sight, but stood tall. "So you were not quite so weak or fearful as you thought, dear Varthis. Your rest has come upon you. May the stars shine on your journey to Elvenhome and there may you be rewarded for your valor."

An sinister laugh of mockery rose from behind him. Draxus still lived, at least for a moment. The lights of his eyes were dim, and Corvus knew he remained in the realm of ether only by the force of his will - a force now rapidly ebbing.

"THERE WILL BE NO REWARD FOR HIM OR ANY OF YOUR KIND BEYOND MORTALITY, SIDHE," said Draxus. "MY MASTERS WILL RULE BOTH THIS LIFE AND THE LIFE BEYOND. YOUR RESISTANCE WILL BRING YOU SUFFERING ETERNAL."

Corvus regarded Draxus, a threatening but impotent figure lying in the water. "The Sidhe are not deceived by your lies, foul one," he spat. "Strength you have in this world, but the world beyond is ruled by powers incorruptible. You and your masters have no power there. I will take pleasure in sending D'Sparil back to the damnation of the realm Outside. Go there now, and tell the tale of my wrath. I will soon send many of your ilk there to join you, and at the last your master will be banished by my hand and it will be his suffering that is eternal. Varthis I now commend to a happier realm than you shall know."

Draxus feebly spoke. "MY MASTERS WILL SUPPLANT WHAT POWERS RULE BEYOND THIS LIFE - IN TIME. THEY HAVE WEBS TO WEAVE EVEN PAST THE REALM OF ETHER. BUT I WILL BEAR YOUR MESSAGE TO THEM. I WILL TELL THEM OF YOUR STRENGTH AND HATE. THEY WILL BE PLEASED. YOU MAY YET BECOME A GREAT SERVANT IN D'SPARIL'S HANDS." With these words the light of Draxus' eyes went out and he departed to the Outside.

Corvus ground his teeth. "That shall never be," he said, but his enemy was past hearing. Draxus and Varthis both now had made warnings to him, and he felt that his hate was misunderstood. But now he was not so certain and wondered. No, he thought. Draxus was a liar and spoke only deceits. Varthis was a man so long crushed by fear that he mistook all strength and resistance for error. Corvus would not be stayed. But he looked again on the body of Varthis and knew he could not leave him so - untended and dishonored.

He took Varthis and carried him to the west where a portal lay glimmering. Passing through it he was returned to the dock area where Varthis once had his office. There Corvus built a cairn over his friend using stones gathered from the crumbling walls, and on a piece of wood carved his epitaph.

"Here lies Varthis - who loved life but chose death."

Corvus stood for a silent moment over the cairn after the last stone was set. Finding no words to say he returned to the haven. Searching he found the key to the dungeons upon the body of Draxus. It was beautiful, a crystal star of blue, but the beauty brought him no comfort. Corvus then ransacked the guardhouse and found a leather pack which he slung on his back. The bodies of the undead, like the golems, held vessels in which the ether was trapped. Corvus saw that with these creatures the ether was necessary to bridge the barrier to the Outside and allow the undead to have physical form. These vessels gave him the strength again to wield the crossbow.

Taking the key, Corvus returned to the sealed northern hallway. Opening the gate he went to the door that opened to the dungeons. Guards were there, but Corvus beat them down. Before him was the gate that led to the prisons. With a last look over his shoulder, Corvus opened the door and went on. Behind him the docks were quiet and only the sound of the sea could be heard, a rushing sigh in the distance.