Once more Damaiel stood on the summit of The Tor to watch another brightly coloured sun set. This time, he was not alone. Three other elves also watched the sinking sunset. Although his piercing blue eyes watched the horizon, his mind was elsewhere.
He was worried, the recent meeting between the “Steleiskin Elf", Kleer, and his leader, Auriel had finished earlier. The surprise raids by the Unseedly Ones were still continuing, though the casualties had lessened somewhat. His suspicions had been confirmed by what Kleer had had to say. He had felt the same paralysis a few days earlier, when he had been sitting in contemplation deep within “’The Forest Of The Shining Lights“’. A shadow had crossed over his face, and an insubstantial, fearsome being had met his gaze, when he had opened his eyes. From the description given by Kleer of “’The Korshza“’, it had been one of the demon lords that over-ruled his home world. Somehow, he had broken free from its hold, but even now still felt shaken by the link.
Damaiel turned to one of his companions, Arcas who had also felt the same, and seen one of the same demons roaming their lands. ”Arcas, are you feeling any better?” Damaiel asked a fairly obviously silly question; a visual surveillance of the slim elf to his right would have been suffice to reveal that the elf was still suffering. Damaiel had suddenly felt doubt of his intuitive abilities that the elven kind took for granted from birth. Somehow he felt blocked.
"You sense it to, eh my brethren?” Arcas asked, his voice barely above a whisper, and then turned to face their other companions, Iulus, who was one of the old guard; who’d also experienced a visitation. Iulus merely nodded. He’d not spoken since the demon had influenced his thoughts. He too was having problem trusting his intuitions.
“What can be done about it? I say we get rid of Kleer and then the demons will follow him, and leave us in peace. It's ever since him, and the human came we've had our problems.” Damaiel turned in sudden surprise to The Elf who stood a few yards below them. He was shocked; Vidar had not spoken for centuries. Not since his arrival in their lands from his home land of Landvidi.
Proof-read Copy Extract taken from 'The Host' written by Matthew James
