Realms of the Elves

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Rhespen Ash brandished his truesilver staff and shouted words of power. The magic cast up shields of wind and light, and hurled bright, crackling thunderbolts at the foes lurking in the green shadows between the trees.

It wasn't enough. The enemy wizards shattered his defenses quick as he could conjure them, volleys of arrows moaned through the air, and Rhespen's troops and their horses died.

If he'd had a chance to prepare, it would likely have been different, but the ambuscade had caught him entirely by surprise. He'd marched a small company of his master's warriors into the forest because some of the inhabitants-elves, his own People! — had sent a message requesting help to repel an incursion of trolls. He'd had no reason to suspect the missive had actually originated with rebels seeking to lure a portion of the royal army into a trap.

He glanced about to see how many of his predominantly human men-at-arms lay dead or crippled and how many remained on their feet. It looked as if the foe had neutralized half of them already.

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