Whitesteel Peaks - Chapter 3: A Visitor

Turim prepares to return to Grendelock Keep, but receives an unexpected visitor who takes him in a very different direction.

Armageddon TM and its characters and story are copyright Terry Tibke. All rights reserved. All music and effects are listed here.

Luke Alphonso [Voice Actor] - Voices Turim Gliderlance

Maia Harlap [Voice Actor] – Voices Lala Truffleroot

Ki Garland  [Voice Actor] – Voices Thalissa Gliderlance

Liam Taylor [Voice Actor]- Voices Grandmaster Strongthorn

Produced by: Terry Tibke, Jim Rysinski, Frank James Bailey, Aaron, cfasand, Cory Fulcher; and Kiyra, Torren, Sophany, Mike, and Tippy Tibke.

Transcript

Chapter 3 – A Visitor

The grass’ sway had fully been halted. Over the past few days, it was caught beneath a mountain of snow and ice that stretched beyond elven sight to the edge of the Westersirk. Winter was upon the world outside.

Yet inside the little warm house, Turim prepared for travel again, setting his pack in the tall backed cushioned chair that had once been his father’s pride. With Lala in the kitchen, he spoke in low tones to his mother.

“Thank you for this,” he said to Thalissa with gratitude. “I’m sure she’ll be ready soon, but for now. Just keep an eye on her."

Turim paused, again catching the scent of Lala’s cooking.

“The pulled pork and gravy is done,” the halfling called from the kitchen. Then she appeared, carrying a tray of food to the table. “I’ve also made us appaza cobbler, but that’s still cooling.”

“You’re going to be eating quite well while Lala’s here, aren’t you laewen?” He jammed a package of dried travel food in one pouch of his bag, not eager to return to that way of life just yet. But he’d rested. And now he had to get back.

“You won’t be ready by day’s end,” Thalissa urged, sitting near the fire. “Besides, the snow is unnaturally heavy this winter. If I were you, I would wait.”

Turim shook his head at his mother and smiled, adding a tight bundle of freshly cleaned clothes into his pack. “Every time I have to leave, this starts,” he chuckled.

“True,” Thalissa finished folding a small shawl. “But this time, I have even more motivation for it.”

He considered the light outside. At this point, it had grown dark faster than he’d have liked. He supposed a good meal before he left was wise. “Ahh, so be it,” he reluctantly conceded with a sigh and a smile.

“I thank you again for letting me stay, ma’am.” Lala spoke sheepishly, wiping her hands.

“Five-fingered help is always welcome here,” Thalissa replied, standing. “It will be nice to have your company.”

In a few moments, both Turim and Lala had sat, when he noticed Thalissa seemed to be tarrying about the door. She glanced out the window, and even still, Turim was nearly startled by a sudden rapping of knuckle on wood.

“It is about time,” Thalissa whisked open the door, the draft whipping around the room, carrying the sound of Athuril and Geldis on it.

“I didn’t know we were expecting—” Turim halted as he saw who’d come.

“Grandmaster Strongthorn, sir!” cried Lala. She stood, curtseying quickly. She barely avoided knocking her chair over backward.

“You are overdue,” said Thalissa in a kind but firm tone.

Turim got to his feet as well with a salute. “Daynard, sir? To what do we owe such an unexpected visit?”

At the door, the two hounds slowly ambled away from the porch, leaving behind Grandmaster Strongthorn, wrapped in a thick mantle of pale blue. His white beard had speckles of nigh indiscernible snowflakes on it, and his cheeks were rose-hued and merry.

“It seems I was not entirely unlooked for,” said Grandmaster Strongthorn, stomping off the snow before he stepped into the house. “Your hounds found me out on the Westersirk and escorted me these last miles. I suppose your mother had something to do with that.”

Thalissa took Grandmaster Strongthorn’s small pack and set it down beside the table, out of the way. “In truth, I didn’t know until last night,” she said. “Athuril and Geldis came to me with reports of a traveler, coming from the Lockwood Forest away north.

“Their watchfulness has grown these past months, what with dangers coming from places that once seemed far off. They confirmed it was you though. I sent them back to keep an eye on your treading. They gladly obliged.”

“Well, that could be expected I suppose,” the Grandmaster’s eyes fell on the food. “Actually, I’m glad they did. I found some strange tidings on the plains, just before I crossed the river.” He rubbed his hands together. “But my—what’s this?”

Turim watched Daynard settle into a chair. “Wait a minute, not so fast, what did you—”

“Give the man a moment, son,” scolded Thalissa gently. “A meal in waiting is…” she paused looking to Lala.

“A meal in need,” added the halfling with a big smile. But even Lala kept glancing at Grandmaster Strongthorn and seemed curious about what Grandmaster Strongthorn had discovered.

They all dished up quickly and got some food in their bellies as Grandmaster Strongthorn filled them in between bites, eventually going for the desert. “So, have you seen Sand’s father recently?”

“He was at the Festival earlier this week, yes,” replied Thalissa. “I prodded for a few things, but for the most part, he’s been quite busy with his banking. He hasn’t left this city much all year.”

Grandmaster Strongthorn nodded. “I was curious if he’d brought any news of happenings from across the seas. He keeps his ears open. I could use all I can gather.” He looked to Turim.

“Aye. Much the same when we spoke. Why, have Dustorn and Percin been falling down in their duties?” Turim asked, annoyed the Grandmaster was taking the long way round the conversation.

“No, they’ve been back and forth,” said Daynard. “But there are many matters to question and tend to—and this one, for now—continues to lie on the edge of what’s important.”

“What question? Daynard, what did you find out on the plains?” asked Turim, exasperated.

Grandmaster Strongthorn leaned back after finishing a last bite of the desert. He spoke gravely. “I found two of those dark elves, probably from around Tusokan. Both had bled out. They looked as though they had run for some distance.”

Turim exchanged glances with Lala. He wondered briefly about the frost wolves at the Festival, and their unusual approach.

“That is ill news,” said Thalissa.

“Though I don’t know their connection to the nation that’s grown upon Tarvú, I’ve been trying to confirm rumors,” said Daynard.

Thalissa’s face seemed solemn. “Yes, it is likely they’re a part of that small nation. It has been said they’re the sundered kin of the wood elves of Aradúin, and thus in long ages passing, a part of our own kin.”

“Our own kin?” said Turim, unable to contain his surprise. He quickly stood and drifted towards the window of the sitting room. “You never mentioned this before. How long have you known that?”

“And you haven’t spoken of the dark elves near Tusokan. Besides, what mother would tell such fearful tales to her son?” Thalissa said with a frown. She folded her hands in her lap. “The great elven civil wars have been mostly hidden by the elves in Gwahilorn.”

Turim still looked out the window into the darkness. The chill came off the glass. “Master Shadowstar’s clan recently delivered some writings to the libraries in Daltaria.” But he did not share the details of that heist, what little he knew.

“Don’t worry my son,” pacified Thalissa. “When I say our own kin, I simply remind you the wood elves of Aradúin and the high elves of Fronërion, where those of Sólenol branch from, share various bloodlines amongst one another.”

Grandmaster Strongthorn’s voice rose. “Well, since the dark elf appearance around Tusokan, it’s simply been another thing we had to verify. Dustorn and Percin have been busy helping with that. Clearly, though, something’s disturbed these dark elves recently. Two dead, and why on the surface? Maybe you can check in with your friend there after our business is finished in Daltaria.”

“In Daltaria?” Turim lowered his brows at the strange way the Grandmaster had said it. “Our business in Daltaria?”

“It’s partly for that reason I’ve come,” replied Grandmaster Strongthorn. He took a long breath. “Percin and Dustorn are on their way back to the capital right now. I’ll be going there myself, but I stopped off here because I’d like you to accompany me.”

“Me?” Turim balked.

“Yes. I’ve some further pieces of this web to attempt to tie together, and we’ve been summoned to appear before the Council of Races.”

Thalissa tilted her head, and Lala, who appeared to have been more concerned with the consistency of her pie thus far, looked up abruptly.

“What’s going on? Why do you want to take me?” said Turim whirling from the window. “I’ve never been to see the Council before.”

Grandmaster Strongthorn leaned forward. His wooden chair creaked. “True. But that doesn’t mean it’s not time. I trust you Turim. On top of that, your deeds in the Battle of Black Dawn have begun to win you some recognition amongst our allies, it seems.”

Turim shook his head. Most of the folk at the Festival of Snows had treated him as a hero as well. He constantly had to redirect conversations elsewhere. ‘Recognition? They just don’t understand. If I hadn’t been given Lumina’s gifts, I would never have defeated Gewurmarch Rottbone. I wouldn’t be alive.” he thought.

“I did nothing so great,” he muttered. “Any knight in this land would’ve done the same. I was simply in the proper place at the proper time.”

“Properly!” said Grandmaster Strongthorn beneath his white beard. “Just like your father with that woodsman axe that day. I agree with you in some measure. I’d expect the same from any of our knights. Yet I also have no doubt your valor was exemplary. But I stray. There are several requests I need to make, and some requests have been made of me. I also must discuss with you the part your friends have played, and what they shall play in days to come.”

With that, Turim’s brow sank, distraught. He looked at Lala. “I have no intention of bringing them any further into this,” he said, his voice stern. “They’ll have no part in the ‘days to come’. I feel the same for anyone who can steer clear of the war. But especially for them.”

“Turim,” returned Grandmaster Strongthorn. His tone was apathetic. “You know as well as I, few will avoid domination by the Dragon Army if it comes to that. And it will. I have no doubt. Besides, the Council’s advisors have already reported some of your friends’ involvement to the Council themselves. They just don’t have many details.”

“They’ve already aided us more than ever their patriotic duty required!” responded Turim, his voice rising, his steps stalking. “You can’t require more of them, Daynard! And curse Dustorn and Percin for their meddling!”

When Turim realized he’d come forward and gripped both hands on the back of his chair, he leaned back, cooling his anger to mere annoyance. “I’m sorry. I know it’s an advisor’s duty to do so, but I can’t agree that it’s right. Not for those who lent me their support out of my own need. They’ve done their part in the fight, now let them go on with their lives.”

“Sometimes that’s not as easy as you might think,” said Lala quietly.

Turim looked over at her, frowning at her lack of support for his argument. But he knew it as well, and felt sad it had affected her that way.

Grandmaster Strongthorn was quiet. Thalissa and Lala watched silently, too. Turim didn’t get angry often. But when he did, people usually did this—stared.

“Daynard,” he said eventually, “there must be another way?”

“I’m afraid not,” answered Grandmaster Strongthorn. “We must talk to the Council of Races. We need to look at all paths set in motion now, and that includes anyone who’s been involved. We have to make any attempt at foreseeing the end of their paths, and their crossings with our own. This includes the dark elves, the Dragon Army, the other Knight factions, your allies, and anyone else.”

“I wish I’d never ‘crossed paths’ with them now,” answered Turim. “I’ve done something ill, in doing so. I’m sure of it.”

Thalissa shook her head slowly, “There is little to be done of destiny’s course. You can only do your part when the time comes. But that is not a lesson I need teach you.”

Turim walked slowly back towards the window, peering out into the pale blue of winter. Lesson for you to teach me? he thought.

He could feel their eyes on him.

“Please, Turim,” pleaded the Grandmaster with his most fatherly voice. “Come. We need to know what you know. This country, and almost certainly this world, needs your aid. I’ve done what I can. It’s only a small part. But you too have been requested, and I need you there with me.”

He thought a moment, but knew he had to go. Lumina had told him to confront the Dragon Army. It meant danger. He only wished he could keep everyone else safe. But what would happen if he didn’t tell the Council about Sinfa and her airship? Or the Rangers of Ys? About Darf and Aldor and the Knights of the Hammer—and he looked over his shoulder at Lala—her, too. Maybe if he went and spoke to them, he could manage the words that were said—minimize them.

But his mother had subtly reminded him as well. This was an opportunity set before him. It was time to follow destiny’s course and do his part. At least he could make some requests.

“If I go, I need you to agree to something,” Turim stated flatly.

“And what’s that, son?” answered Grandmaster Strongthorn kindly. “If it’s in my power, I will do my best. You know that.”

“After this trip to Daltaria, I need to spend some time with the paladins at the keep.”

“I…” Grandmaster Strongthorn looked him over. He glanced at Turim’s mother as well. “Alright. I’ll give you as much time as possible. If everyone cooperates, you should have it, but that depends—”

“No,” Turim grunted. “It can’t depend on anything. I know how I’ll get if I don’t do this as soon as we get back to Grendelock Keep. It will never happen. Let Sand keep running patrols. I have to spend time with the paladins. That’s the only way I’m agreeing to go.”

Grandmaster Strongthorn sighed and sat back again. “So be it.”

Turim nodded with respect. He was going to do it, if he could make it through this council meeting. But then his thought caught on words the Grandmaster had used. “You said everyone cooperates,” he said with a questioning tone. “Cooperates with what?” He knew the Grandmaster to be a very capable leader. He was well respected. By many, he was even revered. But just how far did his influence stretch? What had he been up to that required cooperation?

Grandmaster Strongthorn’s eyes went first to Thalissa, and then to Lala. “I can’t tell you everything that’s transpired, but when you come, you’ll understand. All I will say here is that our messenger hawks have been busy sending letters across Cornerius, and further still. You can trust that the Knights of the Hawk haven’t been idle since your patrol slew that first Dragon Army Wing several months ago.”

Turim remembered. It was the day Warran, his Wingmate had died. How could he forget? That didn’t ease Turim’s curiosity.

“Have they seen any signs of dragonites out?” asked Lala, still quiet, but finally speaking up as if she’d been holding onto the question for hours. “I would hope none of those vile creatures are wandering about.” She gave a visible shudder.

Grandmaster Strongthorn turned towards her. “Yes, I must admit, I have heard of further dragonite activity, but not in Genova, if that brings you any comfort.”

“I wouldn’t say comfort…” she muttered.

Turim shook his head. “That’s all you’re going to tell her, sir?”

“I truly cannot yet say anything else. But if things proceed as I believe they will, we’ll know more about that in a few days' time too, and then we might all discuss it.”

“All right,” said Turim, stepping forward towards him. “You’ve done your part in piquing my curiosity with your subtle hints at—whatever it might be you’re hinting at. I’m sure you knew well what you were doing with your cryptic speech this whole time.” Turim shook his head, both proud and disappointed in himself at once.

Grandmaster Strongthorn gave a solemn chuckle, looking over to the fireplace. “I’m sorry, my boy. We’ll depart on the morrow, early. But for now, let’s enjoy this warm fire if that’s alright with your mother. Might we sit?”

Thalissa stood from her place at the table and nodded. “You’ve come and disrupted my household once again Daynard.” Her slight smile was sly at the corners. “But yes, old friend. Of course.”

“Now,” grunted the Grandmaster as he set himself into a chair in the sitting room. “How was the Festival of Snows here in the Westersirk?”

The next morning, outside, Turim checked the last sinches on Síldal’s saddle and looked over to his mother. She already looked worried at his going, but that was nothing unusual for mothers, and if maybe her learning he’d died had made her a bit more worrisome—he couldn’t entirely blame her. Lala too, was there watching as he and Grandmaster Strongthorn now mounted their steeds and checked their saddlebags for anything they might have forgotten.

“You’re well set?” asked Turim of the Grandmaster.

“I am,” said Grandmaster Strongthorn. “You?”

“I was prepared to ride before you got here.”

“Of course you were,” chided the Grandmaster.

Turim motioned for Lala to come closer, and she drew near. “You’re free to stay here, certainly until I return. Try to rest up and clear your head. We can talk about what you want to do when I get back. I have no idea what’s going to be the result of this… inquisition.” He clenched his jaw on this last word.

Lala tilted her head. Instead of the meek look she’d had the night before though, she came in closer, her eyes more determined. “But do me a favor.”

Turim lowered his brows. “What’s that?”

 “Find out more about the dragonites. Grandmaster Strongthorn wouldn’t say much—and maybe he can’t—but he knows something. I want to know what else. Just because they’re not close by, doesn’t mean they’re not a concern.” She gave a sharp nod. “They’re my concern. Nobody should have to suffer at their hands, taken in cages. Ever.”

Turim gave a slow nod at the tenacity in her eye. “Alright. I’ll find out what I can.” He leaned back upright, a little alarmed by the look that had drawn on her face for that moment.

Grandmaster Strongthorn looked down at Thalissa. The smiles of old friends passed between the two. “Much thanks for your kindness, as usual, m’lady,” he said to her. “Lala,” he added with a head bob.

Lala gave a curtsey and a slight bow. “Come back soon.”

“Goodbye, my son,” said Thalissa to Turim.

“Goodbye, laewen,” returned Turim simply. But inside, he knew that she felt what he’d really meant. That he loved her. That he was proud to be her son.

And with that, they were off, their horses trotting through the snowdrifts that painted the countryside. Tracks were the last reminder of their presence at the Gliderlance farm.

Then they began their hard ride to Daltaria, capital city of Genova—and some would say, capital of the world itself.

‘Now all I have to do is figure out how to tell my story to the Council of Races, and keep everybody out of it,’ thought Turim.