The Gift Of Revenge

Prologue

Lord Ailus' eyes flashed a sinister blue, and he ran a long finger over his shaven face. “Druid," he growled. "Listen carefully before I slit out your tongue. Would I be correct in thinking that no living soul will know it was I that caused this?"
“Nobody will suspect a thing, Lord Ailus,” replied the wizard as he bowed.
“And you’re sure it will leave King Volodar exposed and ready to... crush?”
“Of course, Sire." The wizard bent lower, his long graying hair now touching the floor. Snapping his eyes shut, he prayed the King was happy with the task now complete. The wizard felt so powerless in his old age, frail almost. He felt threatened by Lord Ailus’ youth and strength; he was the Elf King of Kheissa. 

“Excellent. I’m prepared to extract my vengeance.” The corner of Lord Ailus' lip lifted in a snarl, his icy eyes glinting with his wicked smile and he turned to face the large battle map that lay on his grand oak table. He snatched a quill from the ink pot next to him and drew some lines onto the map and waited for the ink to dry. Tracing the newly drawn lines from his Elven Kingdom Kheissa, he followed it until he reached the dwarven mines in Laeroth. “This will not be pretty for those greedy little bastards. The dwarves must pay for what they have done.” A chill of bitter silence fell upon Lord Ailus' chamber. 

The flames of the raging fire in the corner offered no warmth to the aged wizard, and the fragrance in the suite felt hostile, like concentrated troll gas attacking his lungs. The wizard wheezed, and balanced himself with his staff. “Your oath, my Lord. Will you keep it so I can return back to Kholis? I’ve done as you asked. There’s nothing that can stop your plan now. Haven’t you already invited the dwarves to the banquet?” 

The King grunted, and then hummed as he moved his long, pale finger from one city to the next on his drawing once again, admiring his detailed plan. “At least let me leave you a parting gift before you depart, wizard. Your service has been... most useful to me.” 

There were no windows in Lord Ailus’ chamber, and they locked the large wooden door upon entry. Even though the key was still resting on the hook, the Wizard felt trapped. He’d been tirelessly working on Lord Ailus’ plans for two months, and even though they’d allowed him to live freely in the cabin in the gardens to work, he was always under constant supervision. What was he going to do? He was frail, and with the Karliash brace around his neck temporarily removing his magic, he was defenseless. 

Reaching into the sleeve of his white, silk gown, Lord Ailus rummaged until he found what he was searching for. He flicked the object down into his hand. It glinted in the fire wisps flare from the light above them like a rare onyx from the Dwarven mines in Laeroth, but it was no gem. The wizard clenched his hand around his staff and raised it, his lips parting to whisper the word of protection as Ailus struck. He tried to back away, but a cold, sharp pain pierced his throat. As he fell at Ailus' feet, he saw only the white tassle of the lord's gown, a trail of crimson blood running down the silk and dripping onto the floor. The King's expensive gown was left a stain of crimson betrayal, and he spoke softly to the wizard, "my need for you has ended. I am truly sorry Wizard, but I must keep my plan secret. For now."