The Conquest of Mytheyr
Chapter 2

A Dark Elven girl ran down the corridor as silently as she could. The transparency potion she had drunk could wear off any second now. She constantly checked her bare arms, making sure that her gray skin color was not bleeding back in.

Everyone she knew was counting on her. In fact, she reflected, the lives of the entire kingdom counted on her mission. She had seen the look in Semele’s eyes as he proclaimed himself King. The royals’ deaths would not be enough for him. But Maya had her own reasons. Namely Cyrus, the elder of the two murdered princes. It had been happening for years, but Cyrus was unsure of how his father would react. Maya was willing to do anything to avenge his death, even if it resulted in hers. For Cyrus, she would be a martyr.

Maya finally reached the door she was searching for. She glanced up and down the stone hallway, but it was as empty as a tomb. The hall was not carpeted, so she hoped she would hear anyone approaching. She took a bronze key from her pocket, and unlocked the door, cringing at the heavy clunk the deadbolt made as it slid back. She glanced around the hall again, but it seemed no one had heard. She opened the door, thanking all the deities she knew that the hinges were freshly greased. She slid inside, quietly shutting the door behind her.

Maya stood in a richly furnished room, with thick red carpet and heavy red drapes. A four poster bed took up the far corner, but the room was dominated by oak bookshelves that coved every inch of spare wall space, and every single one of them stuffed to the gills with a variety of tomes and journals. It was Cyrus’s bedroom, and, being the eldest crown prince, he had a precious treasure hidden here. A treasure that just might save them all…

Maya made a beeline to the fifth bookshelf from the door. She pulled up one of the numerous step stools with an air of urgency, as she had just caught sight of her hair, which was no longer clear, but gray. She figured she had three minutes before it turned all the way back to black, but it didn’t matter now. If anyone walked in now, she would be caught, and it would be over.

She clambered up the stool and took a look at the top shelf.

“Extinct Wyrms… The Blood Rage… Peppergies…..” she muttered to herself, rifling through the books. She spotted the one she was looking for, an ancient book with a worn gray leather cover. “Dragonkin!” she exclaimed. She snatched the book off the shelf and practically toppled off the stepstool. She plopped down crossed-legged on the floor, and flipped through the book’s brittle pages. It didn’t take long to find the page she wanted.

The page was headed “Uses of Moonlit Silver.” A list in tiny print took up the right side of the page, but Maya was after the illustration on the left. It was a drawing, done in faded ink, of a six-holed flute.

“Worse has come to worst.” Maya whispered in Elvish, “I need this now.” The drawing glowed with a silver light, and Maya reached into the light. Her fingers clasped around something slender and smooth, and she pulled her hand out of the book’s pages. In her hand, Maya now held a flute, made of the strangest silver-colored metal.

Maya’s red eyes glowed as she felt the magic the metal possessed course through her fingertips. Her own magic mingled with it, and Maya could swear she almost heard it… singing.

“Maybe it’ll be worth it.” Maya whispered, “Now that I know why The Dragonkin praise this metal. It’s…. unlike anything…..” she was at a loss of words.

She closed her eyes and brought the flute to her lips. She had considered doing this elsewhere, but it was too great a risk. She could not be captured before the flute was played, or else Semele would surely destroy everything… it had to be now.

The flute’s notes rang out, clear and sweet. The song was simple, a trilling tune that danced up the scale before falling again. The servants who heard it hid their smiles their arms, clothes, or hair when they heard it, hope filling their hearts. Maya had done it, and surely they would come soon…

One however, smiled a very different smile, for a very different reason. Semele cocked his head, listening as the last note faded.

“Well,” he laughed to his newly-acquired loyal servants, “it seems someone has saved me the trouble of finding it myself…” He was reclined in the throne, with one leg thrown over the armrest, his back wedged comfortably in the corner of the chair. He tilted his head all the way back and sighed. “Of course, now I have to go and get it.” Semele leapt off the throne and surveyed the council room giddily. All those who had been killed by his golems had been reconstituted, reborn as undead thralls. Except, of course, for the royals, for their bodies were currently being displayed on the castle ramparts. The golems might be stronger and altogether more useful, but they were too valuable and too hard to create. He needed something to do the more mundane work, since obviously the conquered peoples would be… less then willing. Semele grinned at his heinous work, and he teleported away to take care of something.

Maya sat stock-still for a few seconds. She knew that the entire palace heard the flute’s song, but if she was lucky, she could make it back to the servant’s quarters, and no one would be the wiser. And those who did know something would never divulge anything. Besides, there were only four other people knew what Maya had been planning to do.

“Walk casual. You just have to make it back to your room.” She muttered to herself, “Just make it to your room.” She stood, and walked shakily to the door. Maya put her hand on the knob, and took a few seconds to allow her heartbeat to slow down. Her hands were shaking violently. She hesitantly pushed opened the door.

“Well, well.” Semele said, violently grabbing Maya’s wrists in a vice-like grip, “What have we here? A traitorous servant who doesn’t know her place.” Semele pulled her extremely close, her face inches from his own, their chests nearly touching. Maya tried to pull away, but Semele tightened his grip. Maya whimpered in pain.

“Why so fearful?” Semele teased. “You were so willing to die earlier, while plotting with your friends… what where their names?” Maya turned her head away, breaking eye contact, and refusing to say anything. Semele chuckled faintly; studying the girl like a snake might study a rat before striking. He leaned closer to Maya, and she recoiled. “No matter,” he whispered in her ear, “I already know.”

Tears sprung in Maya’s eyes. She never wanted this for her friends…. At least… at least… the flute had been played. Nothing Semele did would change that.

“Poor girl… if I didn’t want that silly flute played, why didn’t I stop you sooner?” Semele said softly, as if he read her mind. Perhaps he did. “The Dragon-Elves will come, and pave the way into their world. Why would I settle for this pitiful land, when I can take theirs?”

Maya cried in earnest, her tears running down her face and dripping off her jaw. She didn’t want to die in vain… she didn’t want to meet Cyrus as a failure.

“I didn’t get to take the time to properly kill the royals…” Semele grinned sadistically. “But I will be sure to have my fun with you…”

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