The Temple of Emphril was one of very few places that referenced a god other than élois, and Emphril was one of the sleepers I had learned about from May at the Daggers. She, ironically in light of Pelisir's treachery, was the Elven Goddess of Dreams.
The Monks of the temple were not many. Perhaps fifty males and females trained together at a time. Warriors of the Way of Dreams they called themselves. Their fighting style blended languid, flowing movements, with illusions designed to mimic waking dreams, or nightmares.
It was a unique style but not what I was looking for. I didn't think. The abbot of the monastery was a middle aged Gray Elf named Istip Felridyón. A short fellow with piercing eyes that demanded attention while the Elf appeared half asleep the entire time I was with him. It was their way.
I watched the Monks going through their various stances and poses, watched them spar with one another, and practice with the spear on a well-used wooden dummy for over an hour.
Finally, Istip Felridyón deigned to speak with me.
“May I help you, Sir?"
“Do you not know who I am?"
“I would assume you to be an amber merchant, maybe. Perhaps a vendor of spirits and ale? At any rate, there's not much we can do for you here. Learning our way would strain what little Human longevity you have.”
"I'll give you the benefit of the doubt, Your Grace, um, Abbot Istip, I am your prince, Queen May's husband Prince Tendil.”
"Apologies, Your Majesty, we try to stay out of all of the political comings and goings in the kingdom here. This is a place where time alters very little and we teach a path that glides through life with the least resistance possible.”
"I don't mean to cause you too much interference, Abbot, but if it would be possible, I would like a moment of your time. It's important for a variety of reasons. I'll fill you in on what I can.”
"Certainly, My Prince. Come to my quarters in the back. We lead very simple lives so my office and bedroom are one and the same. But I do keep it tidy."
“Just between the two of us, Abbot, I'm making a 100 gold piece donation. A sort of endowment if I may."
“Contributions are always welcome, but completely unnecessary, Your Majesty. We survive every day as this temple and monastery have survived for the past 3,000 years. I'm sorry, My Prince, I don't mean to sound ungrateful. Truly, it will allow us to do some great work in the community. We have to battle with the Barrow Elves to get alms as it is, and they're a tenacious bunch.”
The compound surrounding the temple was behind a high wall of redwood planks and there were four barracks style dormitories before we arrived at a nondescript sort of small house, neatly made, but done quickly and cheaply. It was cozy and tight inside. A single chair sitting on either side of a table that seemed to serve as both desk and dining table. Only the bare necessities for these holy men.
“Now, what May I help you with, Your Majesty?"
“It's an unusual story that sounds the more unusual in the telling, but the fact is that I'm a god. So is my wife and a handful of others. We used the Mana from included amber to induce this change in ourselves."
He was looking at me like I was crazy, as expected. I reached across the table, taking his hand, and in a moment we were on the now familiar Ethereal Plane.
“What have you done? Where are we?"
"I am Lagmir!” and, just like that, I was. "Only a small demonstration Abbot. I don't have the time to convince you with less drama.”
I came back down to size and we were quickly back in his office. I had his attention now at least. I related the whole story of the Black King's plan and the consequences if it were allowed to come to fruition.
“I am lawful, and I am neutral, Your Majesty, but I shall always prefer to be on the side of good. If you should ever need my help …”
"You are very accomplished are you, Abbot?”
"I've advanced to the limits of our teaching, yes. But I haven't stopped improving myself where I can. There is more yet to be discovered on this path, I'm certain.”
“I mentioned the Pretenders, Abbot, they are our initial concern in this war. One of them is a Monk." His eyebrow arched. "He's a Sea Elf named Toris Lor …"
“Lorquayón, yes. It surprises me little that he's at the heart of something like this. He's a black soul, Your Majesty. Deeply evil.”
"I will likely have to do battle with him in the coming days.”
The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.
"Well, that is definitely unfortunate, My Prince. He's one of the greatest warriors in all the lands. One of the very select few masters of the Way of Water.”
"I need to know whatever you can tell me about him and about his fighting style.”
"Today? You want this knowledge today? It's centuries of teaching, My Prince. It would take years.”
“I only ask that you might serve to enlighten me to what extent you can in this brief amount of time, Abbot. It's all I know to do. If you can't help, I understand."
“No, Your Majesty , I'll do what I can do. This is obviously a thing of tremendous import. The first thing I must emphasize is do NOT fight him near water. You might as well kill yourself and save him the effort.”
He looked pensive for a moment, “What to tell you about him? He came from a noble family, disgraced the family name by dueling with a commoner. He was banished from the Palace and the Monks were the only ones willing to take him in. He also fell in love with a married woman while at the monastery and killed her husband in a duel. Of course we Monks are celibate, so he was banished from there.
He formed a splinter group that employed the same fighting style but allowed for all the worldly excesses you could imagine. His school was on some far flung island in the Southern Ocean. It's rumored that he was ousted by his own students, but given your story and his Ascension to godhood, that makes much more sense.”
“You act as if you've met him personally, Abbot. Or am I misreading you?”
“I did spend a few years in their capital of Salistia studying their system of education. The Monks among the Sea Elves are warriors as well as teachers. Their schools are exceptional. I wanted to try to emulate that program for the Barrow Elves, but they are singularly resistant to change."
“What of Toris?"
“This was before he split from the main temple. He is rash, unforgiving, cruel, ruthless, all of the things you don't want to be on the other end of. But above all, he moved like the wind and hit like thunder. Blinding speed. And he has always favored his whip — a very underappreciated weapon if you never faced one wielded by an expert. He'll take out an eye before you realize you can't see.
He most certainly did not get along well with others. That makes this recent move a bit surprising. He's not one to be part of something bigger than himself. The rewards in this situation though are obviously staggering."
"Did you learn anything of their fighting style in your time there?”
“Oh, yes, Your Majesty. Very much. The most important lesson I can impart to you is the same lesson taught by the sea. Have you any sailing experience, My Prince?"
“Yes, quite. My family is with the Hard Coast Company."
“So you know. Go at the waves at an angle, never head on or behind you. And attack the wave as it crests, when it's expended its strength. Just as you handle waves, you handle these Monks.
Of course, they are not waves, however. They adjust to your defenses. Waves are not sentient like these Monks. But the rule abides, defend your front and your back — attack at angles.”
"I know it's a great imposition, Abbot, and I've already taken too much of your time, but do you think you could spar in that style?”
"It's been many years, but my memory is long, My Prince. Certainly I can. Shall we return to the training grounds?”
"That sounds ideal, Abbot Istip. What surprises am I in for?”
"I think you would be most surprised when your enemy turns into a Water Elemental, flows between your legs, and attacks you from behind. Alas, I don't have the ability to actually change into that form, but I do have the power to create powerful illusions such that you wouldn't know the difference.
But you said you're the God of Truth, is that right, Your Majesty?”
"Indeed it is. Why do you ask?”
"When we spar, see if you cannot use a form of Truesight to see through my illusions. Here.”
He held out his hand, palm up, and produced a beautiful lotus flower of a vivid peach hue.
"Now think, My Prince, is that really there?”
The more I looked at it, the fainter it grew until it was no more.
"It's gone now.”
"Yet I'm still manifesting the illusion. That's a powerful ability you have, Your Majesty. It trumps whatever I can make to try to fool you. Perhaps you can similarly force Toris into his true form if he takes elemental shape.”
"That's the kind of thinking we need, Abbot Istip. Perhaps we should make you one of us sooner rather than later.”
"I'm at your service, My Prince.”
I was given two sticks to fight with and the Abbot had no whip or anything similar so he settled for a fifteen foot length of knotted rope.
I could get a very quick sense of how elusive "Lasher” would be. It was like trying to grab a handful of water. But I got enough hits in on him to boost my confidence and put on a good showing for the assembled adepts.
If Abbot Istip had been Toris, I would have been victorious. Sadly, my intended foe was going to put up a much tougher fight.
“Do not tell your students or anyone any of what I've told you. Understood? We can't be sure who is ours and who is theirs."
“Understood, Your Majesty."
He had a habit of giving quick little dips of the head. Something like a much abbreviated bow when he answered a question whether “yes” or “no.” It put me off at first, but it was growing on me.
"I'll bring your name before my comrades tonight and I shall let you know an answer in the morning. I would say your talents are much needed in our group. Maybe I'll let you take on Toris yourself.”
He gave an unexpectedly broad grin when I said that.
"You want him, don't you?”
"Yes, Your Majesty. Yes, I do. Monks like him are a stain on our practice. Thankfully they are extremely rare. But if I can find one and rid the world of them, I'm embarrassed to say that I relish the opportunity.”
"We'll see. I shan't promise anything. Not yet. I still have much to prove to myself and others. Avoiding Toris would not look good on my part.”
"I understand completely, Your Majesty. You've worked up a thirst out here in the sun, May I offer you some tea?”
"No, thank you, Abbot. There is much to be accomplished before tomorrow night, so I shall take my leave. Your help has given me much needed conviction, for that, I thank you very much.”
When I returned to our rooms, May was just getting back from her practice with Sir Naylis, drenched in sweat and the acrid smell of adrenaline. She had given her all, as she always did.
“My Love, I'm going to have one of the Wizards prepare us a large, hot tub of water to soak in. Would you like anything to eat?”
"You mean other than my husband? Hmmm let's see. I think I should like a cold asparagus salad and some mineral water for now. If you're hungry, Love, get something more filling.”
"That sounds excellent. I'll have mine with some goat cheese as well.”
"You won't be kissing me with your goat cheese mouth, just so we're of an understanding.”
"Then I shall forgo the goat cheese. I should mention, we need to get the whole group together this evening around eight bells in the sanctum. We've much yet to discuss.”