Fantasy & Sci-Fi
Albinor Chronicles Chapter 30
"Escape From Drow
By Marcus Pan
July 22, 007
Corellon awoke in the still darkness. He believed it to be
after dark outside, for the dungeons were quite silent, but it was hard to
tell. They no longer chained him in his cell. He gave them no trouble in over 4
1/2 years of imprisonment. His morale and spirit they believed was broken. They
Corellon looked through the small window in his door and saw
a guard in chain mail approach him. As he passed by, Corellon called softly to
him. Whispering enchantments as the guardsman approached the door, he cast
forth a spell he had retained in his mind for 4 1/2 years. "Open the door,
friend. What hath I done to thee?" The guard thought to himself at Corellon's
"Nothing, I suppose," said he as the door slowly groaned
"Wait here. I will return shortly for you. I need your
sword." Corellon took the Drow knight's sword and keys as he was smiled at
warmly. Then he closed the heavy door behind him and moved swiftly down the
dark, dismal corridor.
The stairs he found quickly and ascended them slowly,
listening to the echoing of his sandaled feet with alarm. The blade glimmered
in the low light, clutched in his left hand. Noone seemed to hear his ringing
steps and laboured breathing. He reached the top of the stairs unharrassed.
Skirting the shadows, flitting from wall to wall like a
flickering in the night, he traversed corners and turns quickly. Maybe too
Three knights of Drow nearly knocked him to the floor as he
rounded a turn. Startled, Corellon had barely enough time to cast a spell.
Putting his finger to his lips in a gesture of silence, they smiled and nodded.
The Elven King breathed a sigh of relief as the elves walked on whispering
together about their "new friend."
Another turn brought him to a blank wall. He looked about
wildly as he stood at the dead end. Listening, he heard echoing steps on the
other side of the wall. He began to search it. More shuffling footsteps came
from behind. "Cornered," he thought, cursing. He retreated to a dark corner,
hiding his blade of steel beneath the ragged cloak he wore.
A drow in chain mail stepped down the hallway, reached the
wall, pushed a pressure plate on the wall and yawned. The wall slid to the left
revealing a corridor beyond. As he passed through, Corellon acted quickly and
rolled. The wall closed with a crunching noise and, now on the other side,
Avantar stood and fiercely swing the blade as his enemy turned. The poor
held his helmet in his hands. It rattled loudly on the
stonework floor and Corellon braced. Noone heard the helmet nor the falling
elf. Like a dark shadow, he moved slowly and quietly on.
At the end of this hall a stairwell led up. As he ascended
it, a breath of fresh air brushed his cheek. The air was not permeated with a
dank, mouldy stench like that of below. It was still dark a few pools of light
in a shadow-shrouded 20' corridor that was shed by bracketed torches on the
walls. "Still dark and torches are lit. The air is clean and crisp. I'm
obviously above ground now and night is here. How much longer till dawn, pray
tell?" Corellon wondered aloud. Looking ahead, another 20' wide corridor turned
right. This hallway he recognized as the entrance hall, but so many feet stood
between. So close, yet so far.
He moved forward and, after what seemed an eternity, reached
the corridor. It was a warm night and the doors were ajar. Outside, the stars
glittered in the sky. The Elven King's spirits soared, as stars were visions of
memory for 4 1/2 years. A drow guard stood nonchalantly outside, obliviously
enjoying a pipe. Corellon moved, barely breathing, towards the door. He moved
swifter than before, wanting desperately to stand amidst stars and cool
breezes. A door he passed on his right and another on his left. Swooning over
the outdoor vision, he didn't notice the drow pass through the right door. The
guard's "Stop!" thrust him back to reality.
"Guide my hand, Larethian!" Corellon cried as he swung
wildly behind. The blade met the guard's chain-clad chest. So mighty was the
strike, dark chains snapped. Then the blade broke as the guard fell, clattering
to the cobble-stone floor. Corellon dropped the broken sword and ran wildly for
Doors slammed from behind. The guard who fell was struggling
up. Shouts rang throughout Drow Castle and the elf outside the door dropped his
pipe and tugged on his own longsword. Weaponless, the high elf threw himself at
the guard. They met furiously and both men fell, Corellon feeling as if he had
run into a wall. But he was up and running for the open gates through the
courtyard. The other elf gave chase, now gripping his blade. A race ensued,
Corellon reaching the gates first with his lead and lightness.
Turning to the guard upon him, the high elf yelled and
flames fanned out from his slender fingers. The chasing guard was hit by the
magical fire and fell with his head in his hands. The courtyard echoed with
noise. Horsed guards poured from the stables and a force poured from the
castle. Corellon closed his eyes and raised his hands to the sky. The drows
would be on him in seconds. Words of enchantment passed his lips and a dark
cloud massed overhead. A thunderclap rose from the air and wind whipped his
cloak about him. Some of the knights paused, looking about worriedly. Then the
storm broke. Mid-summer though it was, 'twas a storm of ice!
Horses routed and threw their riders as the ice pelted them.
The drows broke for shelter. The balls of ice were large indeed. Corellon, his
spell completed, bent and picked up the sword of the drow that fell from his
fire. He turned to leave, untouched by the ice he had created. Then he dashed
into the dark forest, disappearing like mist and completing his escape from