Azareth held his head low, his eyes never leaving the tiled floor, as he walked past two soldiers standing guard on each side of the temple's entrance. Their polished gold armor reflected the evening's last light as their halberds hovered menacingly over the entryway. One of the guards glanced at Azareth as he passed, sizing him up. Azareth held his breath, praying his tattered clothes and disheveled appearance would convince the guard he was just another beggar who'd come to pray. A dozen steps later, Azareth finally let out a gasp. If the guard was going to stop him, he would have done it already. Entering the temple was a calculated risk. The guards rarely hassled Dark Elves coming to worship. The Light Elves had no incentive to interfere with religious practices, which they had corrupted into a tool for control.
Azareth quickly left the temple's main hall, slipping down a side passage. He'd have to be more cautious now. There was no legitimate reason for a beggar to stray far from the main shrine. He rapidly wound his way through a series of corridors, but slowed when he heard shouting ahead. The ruckus came from a room further down the hallway—a room he needed to pass to reach his destination. Azareth stared warily at the door, which was slightly ajar. It was unlikely anyone would see him slip by... unless the someone walked through the door while he was outside. He sighed. Risks were unavoidable. He muttered a prayer under his breath and quietly proceed down the hallway.
"Do your failures know no bounds!" Azareth flinched at the woman's raised voice, reconsidering if he should turn around "You are lucky Ban'ath does not strike you down where you stand for your incompetence!"
The voice sounded familiar. Azareth knew it was unwise, but he couldn't resist a quick peek through the door. Inside the brightly lit room, the Light Elf temple priestess, Telith, stood before a half dozen kneeling Dark Elf monks.
Azareth grimaced. Telith's presence here was an affront to all Dark Elves. After the war, the Light Elves had installed women of their own race as priestesses in each Dark Elf temple. Religious authority had become a tool for subjugation.
Telith's fury was palpable as she paced back and forth across the room. Still, Azareth could not help but stare in awe of her. Even enraged, the priestess was unfathomably beautiful. Golden curls of hair framed her soft, oval-shaped face. Her violet eyes stood out against her smooth, pale skin. She had full lip, which were currently pursed in anger. On her head sat the delicate silver circlet that marked her rank as temple priestess. She wore a pale golden dress made from fabric so thin it seemed to flow like water as she moved. Whenever she stilled, the dress settled and the fabric clung provocatively to the curves of her body.
"The Empress arrives in a month and our wine cellar is stocked worse than a Dark Elf whorehouse!" Telith shouted. "Go and collect a second tax from the Dark Elf businesses in the market district and buy the supplies we need to prepare for the High Priestess's arrival. I swear to Ban'ath I will have each and every one of you flogged if this temple is not prepared on time!"
Telith's vitriol snapped Azareth back to reality. He needed to keep moving, and fast. He stole one last glance at Telith, then continued on. After several minutes of stealthily weaving through hallways, he finally found the door leading down into the catacombs. He carefully opened the heavy oak door and quietly closed it behind him. He then found himself in complete darkness. He felt along the wall with his hands and found a torch, then whispered "n'hilim," and a flame flickered to life. It was forbidden for Dark Elves to practice magic, but there was no sense in worrying about that now, since Azareth would be executed if he was found wandering the temple whether he cast spells or not.
The catacombs were thousands of years old and practically a labyrinth. It had been a minor miracle when a member of the resistance found a map tucked away in an ancient tome stolen from the Imperial Library.
After nearly an hour navigating the winding passageways by torchlight, Azareth reached the spot marked on the map—a stone wall with a faint carving of Ban'ath, the two two-headed dragon that the Dark Elves worshiped above all other gods. Azareth glanced both directions down the passageway to ensure he was alone, then pressed a hand against Ban'ath's chest and spoke the magic passphrase, "fa'thlin olar el'inoran."
With a rumble, the wall shifted back a foot, then slowly slid to the side, leaving an opening just large enough for a man to pass through into a dark chamber beyond. Azareth realized he'd been holding his breath again. He'd been uncertain the passphrase would actually work. He let out a sigh and stepped into the chamber. As his foot crossed the threshold of the room, a half dozen braziers burst alive with flame, illuminating the circular chamber. The floor, walls, and ceiling were all made from black marble. The smooth surfaces reflected the light from the braziers. In the center of the room stood a dais made from the same black marble. A foot above the dais, a staff hovered motionless in the air. The shaft was obsidian and the light from the braziers seemed to soak into the dark stone, rather than reflect off it. Atop the staff sat a blood red ruby cut in a shape of a diamond, with the point of the ruby disappearing into the shaft. Within the ruby were three hollow spheres that looked like bubbles of trapped air.
Azareth stood in awe. It was here. He'd actually found it. The Staff of Mathgar was real... and within reach. A tool powerful enough to end the oppression of his people. It was a mystery to him why his ancestors sealed the staff away. Wars between the elf races had plagued the continent for as log as history had been recorded, yet the Dark Elves had sealed their greatest weapon away for a millennia. It didn't matter now. That time was over. The Dark Elves would rise again and take their rightful place.
Azareth strode forth with determination. He stopped before the staff and pulled a small knife from beneath his tattered cloak. "Tel'nat elethim erut banthar," he whispered as he cut the palm of his right hand. As blood spilled from the wound, Azareth grasped the staff. Legend held a sacrifice was needed to bind the staff to its owner's will.
On contact, the ruby gave a blinding flash. Azareth blinked rapidly, trying to regain his vision. He stumbled down from the dais, dropping onto one knee. After what seemed an eternity, the red light began to fade from his vision. There was no telling if anyone had noticed the noise of the chamber opening or the flash of light. I need to get out of here, Azareth thought. Now. He grabbed the staff from the air.
Azareth stumbled out of the chamber and heard the door rumble as it closed behind him. The torch he'd carried lay on the ground, still burning, but his eyes had trouble adjusting back to the dark of the catacombs after the blinding light from the staff.
"You there, halt!" a voice shouted from down the passage.
No, no no, Azareth thought. I can't get caught now. If the guards take the staff, all hope is lost.
Azareth turned away form the shout and ran. He stumbled into walls as he rounded corners, looking for any route that would take him away from the guards. Then he turned a corner and ran face-first into a wall. It was nothing more than a small alcove. A dead end.
"No, I can't fail after coming this far!" Azareth stammered. He turned and saw two guards standing behind him.
"What are you doing here, filth?" one demanded. Then the other spotted the staff. "Drop your weapon or die!" He shouted, drawing his sword.
The staff! Azareth thought.
Dismay flooded him. The resistance had only found vague descriptions of the staff's ability to influence others. He had no idea how to use it.
The guard stepped forward, sword leveled at Azareth. "Then you die," he said.
In desperation, Azareth pointed the staff at the guards and the ruby made another blinding flash. Azareth's eyes were quicker to recover this time. When his vision cleared, he saw the two guards standing motionless, their bodies limp. The guard's sword hung loosely at his side, the point touching the ground. Neither guard spoke a word.
Unsure what had happened, Azareth fled past the guards and back through the catacombs. He had no idea how long the guards would remain that way, and he had no intention of finding out.
When he finally found the door leading back into the temple, Azareth paused and looked at the staff in amazement. He actually had it! And he'd used it! Though he wasn't sure exactly what the staff had done. He noticed two of the hollow bubbles within the ruby had blackened. They were now as dark as the staff's shaft. What that meant, Azareth would puzzle out later. Right now he needed to escape the temple.
Azareth cracked open the door leading back into the temple and peaked through. It looked clear. He placed the torch back where he'd found it and carefully tucked the staff inside his cloak, concealing it as best he could. Then he slipped through the door and began retracing his path through the hallways.
Azareth nervously glanced over his shoulder every few seconds, nearly tripping over his own feet on several occasions. The guards he'd left in the catacombs could be coming for him any moment. He stepped around a corner and froze. Two guards stood facing away from him only a few feet down the hallway.
Shit! Azareth slowly retreated around the corner. He quietly backtracked to the opposite end of the hallway and cautiously peeked around the corner. He heart sank. Two guards approached, coming directly toward him.
Shit! Shit! Shit! Azareth thought. I'm trapped. He could hear the guards' footsteps approaching, their armored boots loud on the tiled floor. Azareth looked around frantically and spotted a door midway down the hall. He had no idea where the door led, but it couldn't be any worse than where he was now. He darted to the door, pulled it open, then slipped inside and quickly shut the door behind him.
Azareth turned, hoping to find a hiding spot within the room in case the guards entered behind him, but stopped dead in his tracks. His eyes went wide and his jaw dropped as he took in the scene before him.
The room was comfortably furnished with richly upholstered chairs and crowded bookshelves. Glow lamps encased in silver cages dangled from chains, illuminating the room with warm light. In a plush chair across the room from Azareth sat Telith. Her golden dress was hiked up to her waist, exposing her smooth, pale skin of her legs, which, at the moment, were spread wide. Between them knelt a naked Dark Elf woman, likely a temple servant. Both women were starring at Azareth, the servant with fear and Telith with fury.
"How dare you intrude!" Telith said, her voice cold as ice. The Dark Elf covered her breasts with her hands.
