Daramlhoardd’s War

Karodem raced across the blue polished marble floor of castle Gladelhome.
He took the stairs three at a time. Down the long hallway he ran, now panting and gasping for every breath. He flung open the wide door of his uncle’s bedroom without knocking. Karodem leaned against the wall and sucked in lungful upon lungful of air. “They are on the far side of the Drimwold Deep,” he managed to get out.
Alldelhem dropped the brown, leather bound volume to the floor, “Who’s at the Drimwold Deep?”
“Daramlhoardd and a mighty host of elves are gathered there. I dared not stay and count the number of them.” The prince took another deep breath. “Uncle, you must order the war horns to be blown.”
“Patience young one,” a warm smile passed across Alldelhem’s face. “Five hundred archers were sent across yesterday night. They will attack with fire arrows when darkness falls and burn as many of the war machines as they can.”
Karodem hooted, “Five hundred, five hundred. Daramlhoardd’s host will swallow them without a hiccup and be hungry for more.”
“We can never muster the numbers to match a great host, so my young, impatient nephew we will use cunning. It is a thing that my brother does not have much of.” Alldelhem shook Angvaradel gently, “Awake my life’s love. We have guests knocking at the door of our land.”
Angvaradel, yawned, stretched and sat up. “The beast has arrived has he? Leave us my son, I must dress and go to the room of mystery.” She pushed the covers back and winced as her feet touched the cold, green marble floor. “Karodem, have Galowyn meet me there. Tell her to bring the four stones of Carigoth and the eight orange feathers form the birds of the Baramador Hills.” The door of the closet squealed in protest as it slid open. “You may come of you wish but you must remain silent, no matter what happens.”
No pig’s blood was used to draw the seven pointed star, no virgins blood was used to draw the perfect large circle. Galowyn and Angvaradel were dressed in simple white dresses. They stood back to back in the center of the star. In their right hands were four large orange feathers, in their left two gleaming green stones.”
The silence was broken by the soft chanting of the two, “Oh spirits of goodness, spirits of white, spirits of power, spirits of light. Join us now. Join us now because we face a perilous plight.”
At first Karodem saw nothing, then a wispy whiteness began to form. It appeared to be nothing more than threads of steam from some large kettle. As the minutes passed, the wisps became thicker, formed in to shapes, formed into images.
Seven tall figures of white towered over the two women. A deep voice boomed out and bounced off the blue marble walls. “Oh great ladies of goodness and power, what be thy need?”
“Forces of righteousness, protector of this realm we are in desperate straits.”

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