THE COURT OF STARS
“So where will you begin?” Iggwilv asked, one eyebrow raised.
“I believe the least perilous choice would be Gwynharwyf,” Mandi said after a moment.
“You are a bigger fool than I would have thought if you truly believe that,” the Witch Queen laughed.
“Perhaps I should have said ‘the least obviously perilous,’” Mandi amended.
“If this is your course,” Iggwilv nodded, “then forewarned is forearmed. You should know that Gwynharwf and Demogorgon have a history, as I implied earlier. She was captured by him during an eladrin raid, and suffered greatly as his prisoner. Morwel eventually rescued her, staging a daring strike that cost the demon lord Ilsidahur, the Howling King of the bar-lgura, his right hand. Morwel will be loathe to risk her so again.”
“Have you ever been to the Court?” Mandi asked.
Iggwilv chuckled. “No. The denizens there are too full of moonsparkle and unicorn giggles for my taste. I can tell you how to get there, however. Not far from one of the Styx’s tributaries, where the river approaches some of the roots of Yggdrasil, the World Tree, grows a grove of lightning-struck oaks. By touching sprigs of mistletoe to the lightning scars, you can transport yourselves to the Court of Stars, near the queen’s domain.”
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The Legion took their leave of Iggwilv, though she strongly admonished them to return to her before journeying to any of the other potential allies she had named. The crew of the Sea Wyvern was relieved to be under way, despite Charon’s assurances of safe passage. Time passed differently on the lower planes, and though they might have been sailing for days, it seemed only an hour or two passed before the ship reached the tributary Iggwilv had spoken of. Not long after, the oak grove appeared near the banks of the river. The Legionnaires disembarked, warning the crew to remain on the ship no matter what, and approached the blackened trees. Mandi drew the mistletoe from her belt pouch and touched the nearest tree, as instructed. Instantly, the six companions were caught up in a swirling, violet vortex that materialized around them, vanishing from Niflheim in the blink of an eye.
Once their disorientation faded and their vertigo passed, they found themselves in a titanic forest of trees as thick as houses, where even the squirrels were the size of dogs.
“Do you hear that?” Daelric asked.
For a moment, no one heard anything, but then, in the distance, and approaching quickly, the sound of baying hounds was unmistakable. Less than a minute later, a dozen enormous, black canines broke from the underbrush and swirled around the travelers, yapping and sniffing and occasionally licking hands. Whenever one of them approached Daelric, Marius, or Mandi, however, it would growl low in its throat. Then, as one, the dogs lifted their heads and drew back several feet, leaving an opening at the apex of the circle they had formed. A moment later, a knight on a powerful white horse rode into the clearing, flanked by two glowing globes of floating golden light. The horse pawed the earth, while the knight, a sword that glowed with the light of the sun gripped in one hand, raised his visor, revealing a handsome man with elvish features, though his skin was golden and his eyes bright purple.
“You!” he shouted, pointing his finger accusingly. “Why are you here?”
Daelric cleared his throat and stepped forward. “We seek an audience with the Court of Stars. We are on a quest to vanquish a great evil from the Abyss, and we request the aid of the Whirling Fury, Gwynharwf.”
The knight threw back his head and laughed derisively.
“And why would any of this fair realm’s leaders set aside time to talk to a clot of dirty mortals?” he sneered. “Besides, you stink of the Styx, and you…” he stabbed his finger at Sepoto, “…you reek of pomposity!”
“Whom do we have the honor of addressing?” Mandi asked, a chill in her voice.
“I am Sir Andros Fearnaught,” the knight replied haughtily, “and these are my companions, Bhaenmar and Waldrop.” He indicated the glowing globes.
“Well, Sir Fearnaught,” Mandi said, “how might we convince you of the sincerity of our mission?”
It was then that Andros’s noticed Octurus among the others.
“By the stars!” he gasped. “I didn’t see you there, brother! Why do you journey with this rabble?”
The demon hunter stepped forward and bowed. “My lord, eladrin,” he intoned, “though mortal, like myself, my companions are noble souls and their hearts are true.”
Andros sniffed. “That may be so, but it would be folly for me to escort such as these to the Court with no proof of their merit. You, my brother, will meet the paragon eladrin soon enough. As for your…friends…they must prove themselves worthy first.”
“And how might we do that?” Mandi asked, caustically.
In reply, Andros stripped off one of his mail-backed gloves and tossed it at her feet.
“I demand the right of challenge!” he said. “Each of you will meet me in contest, and if you best me fairly, you will be free to journey on.”
“What kind of challenge?” Sepoto asked suspiciously.
“I offer you choices:,” Andros replied, “wrestling, jousting, or steeple chase.”
“Well, in that case,” the goliath answered, as he unbuckled his mail shirt, “I’ll take wrestling.”
A short time later the goliath and the eladrin circled each other, both stripped to the waist. They were enclosed in a circle comprised on one side of cheering Legionnaires, and on the other by baying moondogs and pulsating ghaele. Andros made the first move, first feinting for Sepoto’s legs, and then darting in and seizing the crusader in a bear hug. Sepoto grinned broadly, his black tooth bared. Before Andros knew what was happening, the goliath wrapped his arms around his opponent’s waist, lifted him bodily into the air, and then slammed him to the ground onto his back. The eladrin knight struggled against the weight of the crusader, who now had him pinned firmly, but to no avail. Suddenly, a huge, disembodied hand appeared next to the grapplers and slammed against the turf for a count of one…two…three!
Sepoto stood, offering his hand to Andros. Grudgingly, the knight accepted, rising to his feet as well.
“I suppose anyone can get lucky,” he said sourly. “In any event, I am a man of honor. I will allow you to accompany me and Octurus to the Court.”
“What about the others?” Sepoto asked suspiciously. “I beat you fairly. Don’t they get to come to?”
“Perhaps you didn’t hear my original stipulation,” Andros smiled. “I stated that each of you must best me. If any of the rest are up to the challenge, then I am at their service.”
Sepoto opened his mouth to protest, but Mandi stopped him.
“It’s alright,” she said. “I’ll go next.”
“You?” Andros looked bemused. “An elf woman?”
“Not intimidated, are you?” Mandi asked with a smirk.
“Hardly,” the knight replied. “Come then, little girl, and I shall teach you a lesson in humility.”
Mandi stood calmly, arms folded as Andros crouched and circled. Finally, seeing that she was not going to defend herself, he seized her, wrapping her tightly in his arms.
“You may as well give up!” he said, triumphantly. “There is no way that you can escape!”
“Poor, helpless me,” Mandi said, smiling still. “How could I ever think I’d beat a big, strong man like you?”
Then, she closed her eyes, her brow furrowing in concentration. A moment later, Andros felt himself grabbed from behind. Stretching to see what sort of trickery it was, he was astonished to see another large, disembodied hand holding him tightly. Mandi moved a few feet away, arms folded again.
“Do you concede?” she asked.
In reply, Andros vanished, only to reappear a moment later beside her.
“You are a blackguard and a cheat!” he said shrilly. “I demand you leave this place immediately!” A moment later, his blazing sword was in his hand, and Mandi took a step back, her own hands raised and ready.
“Wait, just wait a minute!” Daelric shouted, stepping between the pair. “Please, Sir Fearnaught, we don’t have time for this. I assure you, our business with the Court is of the utmost urgency, and we cannot delay any longer. I beg you, let us pass!”
At that moment, a strong, feminine voice cried out as a shimmering ball of green light wafted gently onto the scene.
“Andros! Do you not recognize these heroes? They are the ones our queen spoke of…the ones who are standing against our old enemy. Has you ego blinded you yet again to our queen’s wishes?”
Andros seemed morbidly chastened at the rebuke and immediately went from blustering champion to embarrassed and mortified submissive, hanging his head in shame.
“Please, Lady Celeste,” he muttered, “I was only toying with them. I would have brought them to our queen in time.”
At that point, the ball of light transformed into a beautiful green-haired eladrin who drifted gently down to the ground. She cast one final, disgusted look at Andros.
“You may resume your little hunt,” she said with finality, and Andros immediately mounted his horse, wheeled and vanished with his pack back into the forest.
“My profuse apologies,” Celeste, turning her attention back to the companions. “You are expected at Morwel’s Palace, and I have been sent to escort you. As Andros already mentioned, I am called Celeste…”
![:]](http://www.enworld.org/forum/images/smilies/devious.png "Devious :]")
