Junkyard Dogma (The Elven Prophecy Book 4)

by Theophilus Monroe

  Targigoth huffed. “You must be the one rumored to have fulfilled the prophecy.”

  “He is,” Brag’mok said. “We’ve come to bring the remnant of the giants back to Earth that we might fulfill our sacred duty to defend the earth from the elven legion.”

  “And you’d like me to give my endorsement to this plan of yours, Brag’mok?” Targigoth asked.

  “Please,” Brag’mok said. “You know as well as I do that you cannot survive here in this small village forever. Our people are meant for more than that.”

  “What’s in it for me?” Targigoth asked.

  “The salvation of our people!” Brag’mok said. “You’ll be remembered as the high priest who brought the giants to glory!”

  “Maybe,” Targigoth said. “But even if we were to succeed, I’d only be remembered in such a way long after my time has passed. I want to know what’s in it for me now.”

  “What are you talking about?” Brag’mok asked. “The high priest is meant to be a servant to the people, to the scrolls of the prophecy.”

  “Tell me, Princess,” Targigoth said. “Do you have any giant in you?”

  “What are you talking about?” Layla asked. “You know I’m an elf.”

  “Would you like a little giant in you?” Targigoth asked, smirking.

  “No!” Layla said. “I’m married, and you’re just a child!”

  “I’m no child!” Targigoth shouted. “I’m a virile young giant of twenty years. I have needs, fantasies you’d be well suited to fulfill.”

  “In our lifespan,” Brag’mok said. “Twenty years makes you still a youth. What you ask is not befitting of your role, high priest.”

  Targigoth laughed out loud. “The look on the princess’ face! So much disgust!”

  “I’m not sleeping with you,” Layla said, staring daggers at the high priest.

  Targigoth waved his hand in the air. “I’m not serious, Princess. Can’t you take a joke?”

  “It’s not funny,” Layla snapped.

  Targogoth laughed, clinging to his pooch of a belly. “But your reaction, it’s certainly worth a good laugh.”

  “Like I said,” Brag’mok said, looking at me. “Insufferable.”

  I shook my head. “I get it, funny ha-ha. See how desperate we are. See what we’d be willing to agree to for your support.”

  “See!” Targigoth said. “The human gets it! Just between you and me, human, elves don’t have much of a sense of humor.”

  “I’m still standing here,” Layla said. “It’s not much of an inside joke between you and him.”

  The high priest reached beneath his chaise and pulled out a golden chest. “These are the prophecies, possessed by our high priests for centuries. Though, all the scrolls that have been revealed are well-known to all the giants. Unlike the elves, our priests have never held these scrolls secret.”

  “So you’ll come with us?” I asked.

  Targigoth raised his hand. “You come asking for me to interpret the prophecies, to tell our small tribe what they should do. The point is only that these prophecies are no secret. Each of our kin can determine for themselves if they believe the prophecy demands we should do what you ask or not.”

  “But you’re the high priest,” Brag’mok said. “Your recommendation would hold sway.”

  “Which is precisely why I am disinclined to make a recommendation or an interpretation,” Targigoth said. “We’ve all lost much. The one thing that the giants still have is their freedom of choice. Who am I to tell them what they should do?”

  “Strong leadership,” I said, “does not rob people of their liberty.”

  “But what of these prophecies demands that we should follow your particular plan to bring us with you to Earth?”

  “We’ll unite with the elementals and the Furies,” Brag’mok said. “We’ll finally become what our race was meant to be from the beginning.”

  “Again,” Targigoth said, “the prophecies indicate that the chosen one would unite all the races. It does not say, specifically, that he’d lead us to join humans, elves, or even the Furies and elementals in this particular war.”

  “You have barely enough magic to sustain this village a month, much less indefinitely. If you make this decision now and use the magic that’s left to help bring our people to Earth, you’ll save not just their liberty but their lives!” Brag’mok had his hands on his hips as he stared at the high priest.

  Targigoth took a deep breath. “What you say is true. I must admit, the fact that you’ve survived at all, Brag’mok, is something of a miracle.”

  “So you’ll consider it?” I asked.

  Torgigoth nodded. “I must consult with my ancestors.”

  “With your ancestors?” I asked.

  Brag’mok nodded. “This is wise.”

  “What do you mean to consult with your ancestors?” I cocked my head.

  “Care to explain, Brag’mok?” Torgigoth asked.

  Brag’mok snorted. “The high priest inherits this ability, typically passed on by the laying on of hands from one high priest to the next. The high priest can release the gift when his life is nearing its end. There is a ritual that the priest can perform to commune with the high priests who’ve come before him.”

  “You received his gift when you became the high priest?” I asked.

  Torgigoth nodded. “Vakgu, my predecessor, passed it along to me with his dying breath. But the ritual requires one who can wield earthen magic as fire.”

  “I can do that,” I said. “I have all the elements.”

  “We’ll also need water,” Targigoth said. “Along with stones.”

  “What this ritual requires is the high priest to sit, in meditation, in extreme heat. It can take some time,” Brag’mok said.

  “Like a sweat lodge?” I asked.

  Brag’mok nodded. “From what I understand of similar practices on Earth, yes, it is something like that.”

  “How long, exactly, will this take?” I asked.

  “As long as it takes,” Targigoth said. “I may choose one of our kind as a witness. Brag’mok, would you accompany me in the ritual?”

  Brag’mok nodded. “It would be my honor.”

  “Then let us prepare the rite,” Targigoth said. “I have the stones. Human, if you might simply provide some water and fire that we might heat the stones and create steam with the water.”

  “Of course,” I said. “I can do that.”

  “Caspar,” Brag’mok said. “Do this, then get whatever rest you need. I’d advise you and Layla to proceed to attempt to reach the elves while we undergo the rite.”

  I nodded. “Makes sense. You said you don’t know how long this will take? Is there like a minimum amount of time?”

  “At least a day,” Targigoth said. “More likely closer to two days.”

  “You’re going to sit in steam, like a sauna, for two whole days?” I asked.

  “This is what it requires in order to activate the aspect of my ancestors that is within me,” Targigot said. “I’ll have an answer for you after the ritual is complete. Not a moment before.”

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  At Targigoth’s insistence, Gronk took Layla and me into one of the huts and offered us a place to rest. It wasn’t much. There wasn’t a proper bed, just a small, blanket-covered slab in the middle of the room. It probably wasn’t a large room, by giant standards, but since it had to accommodate the full height of a giant, it was rather spacious for Layla and me.

  We spooned together on the makeshift bed that the giants provided and fell immediately asleep.

  I didn’t know how long we slept. When I woke, it was daytime. Layla was already up and had left me there alone. I got up and stepped outside. Based on the position of the sun in the sky, which was bluer in hue than Earth’s sun, it was midday. Since it had been dark when we arrived, I ascertained that I’d slept at least a half-day.

  That meant we had another half-day at a minimum before the rite would be complete. I
t could be as much as a day and a half. Either way, we didn’t have a lot of time to spare.

  I wasn’t sure how easy it would be to convince the elves to come with us. Probably no easier than it was proving to convince the giants. At least in this endeavor, we’d have the benefit of elf royalty on our side.

  I was temporarily invigorated with energy. I’d probably spend all of it flying with Layla while also giving us enough air to breathe, to find the elves.

  Layla hopped on my back, piggy-back style. I gathered the power of air and aether, the two elements I’d need to both fly and ensure that we had breathable air for the journey.

  We took off into the skies, the warm air of New Albion striking me in the face as we soared over the giants’ village and the barren but once luscious plains of Layla’s home world.

  I could see the old elven kingdom from miles away. Unlike the giants’ village, which looked like something out of the stone age, the elven city was magnificent. Huge buildings with large twisted spires tickled the skyline. Even with the whole region devastated due to the absence of magic, the towers still glistened in New Albion’s blue sun.

  We soared over the city, looking for signs of life. Something other than a nightcrawler moving around, a patch of green grass, something…

  Layla tapped my shoulder and pointed straight ahead at the base of one of the spires. “See the light?” she asked, shouting into my ear.

  There was a light in a large picture window that covered one side of the ground level of one of the buildings.

  I dove down toward it and did my best to land gracefully. Takeoffs were easy. I was still working on landings. Layla’s extra weight didn’t help. My legs buckled beneath me, and we tumbled to the ground.

  “Sorry about that,” I said, dusting myself off as I got back to my feet.

  Layla giggled, shaking her head. “I guess I should have been expecting that.”

  “What’s inside here?” I asked.

  Layla shrugged. “There are a lot of buildings in the elven kingdom. This is a residential spire. The buildings were charged by magic before. It helped water the plant life inside. Each of these buildings was like its own ecosystem. I suppose, perhaps, a lingering spark of magic might have remained here, keeping the place lit. Or maybe…”

  “Or some people might be living here?” I asked.

  Layla nodded. “Even so, my father gave the impression that most of the elven kingdom was in safety. It’s pretty clear that they aren’t here.”

  “Think anyone’s in there?” I asked.

  Layla shrugged, stepped up to the glass, and tapped on the window. “I don’t see anything. Let's go in and check it out.”

  I nodded. “Best have your bow ready. Just in case.”

  Layla nodded and retrieved an arrow from her quiver. She pressed her hand on a small plate beside the door. The plate illuminated at her touch, and the door rolled open, retracting into the left side wall of the entrance.

  “Cool door,” I said. “Does the thing read your palm or something?”

  “As a royal, I have access to any building in the kingdom. So did my father and those who worked in what you’d call law enforcement. But mostly, only those who lived or worked in a spire would have access.”

  “Something’s powering it still, anyway,” I said.

  Layla nodded. “I’m guessing there’s some magic still coursing in the spire.”

  “The building is powered by magic?” I asked.

  “Not exactly. Like I said, it’s more that they were charged with magic that kept streams of water flowing within the buildings. We have the technology to extract the hydrogen from the water. It is our energy source.”

  “You use water like gasoline?” I asked. “That’s freaking brilliant.”

  Layla nodded. “One of many technologies I’m sure my father has dangled in front of the President to gain his loyalty.”

  We looked around the inside of the building. Water poured through channels along the walls. The channels were connected to troughs where a variety of colorful plants I’d never seen and couldn’t identify based on my limited experience with botanicals grew. “This is stunning. I can’t imagine how beautiful this city must’ve been when it was full of magic.”

  Layla nodded. “It was marvelous, Caspar. Unlike anything you’d see anywhere on Earth. Imagine if Las Vegas was in the middle of a rainforest rather than the desert, and you’d have something of an idea.”

  “Puts St. Louis to shame. Not to mention our junkyard ranch.”

  Layla shrugged. “Perhaps. But I like the home we’re building. It’s quaint, sure, but it’s ours.”

  “Any signs of anyone living here?” I asked.

  “There’s someone here. At least there was recently,” Layla said.

  “How can you be sure?”

  Layla gestured at one of the plants. “The fruit on this vine was recently picked. Someone is eating from it.”

  “Are they like grapes?” I asked.

  Layla shrugged. “A lot like grapes, actually. Very sweet.”

  “How long could someone survive in a spire like this?” I asked.

  “As long as the magic remains, as long as water still flows. I’m not sure there’s much magic here. But it just takes a spark to get one of these spires working. After that, the place produces its own energy.”

  “Where would someone be hiding?” I asked.

  “It’s a big spire,” Layla said. “Hard to say.”

  “Maybe call out and ask?”

  Layla shrugged. “Anyone home?”

  The sound of footsteps from somewhere above us grabbed my attention. “You hear that? Where’s it coming from?”

  “Could be anywhere. The acoustics in these places can be deceptive. Hard to tell where a sound is really coming from.”

  “Hello?” I asked out loud, hoping for a response.

  The footsteps stopped.

  “Whoever is here knows we’re here,” Layla said.

  I nodded to a spiral staircase.

  Layla nodded. “We can go floor to floor. Whoever it is, we’ll find them eventually.”

  We followed the staircase from floor to floor. I imagined that the place probably had twenty levels or more. The whole middle of the spire was open, and the staircase contoured alongside the troughs of water and plantlife.

  The rooms, if you could call them that, were like an outer shell surrounding the perimeter of the spire.

  “It must have been an experience living here,” I said.

  “Each floor would have housed a whole family,” Layla said. “Not just parents and children, but extended family. As many as twenty people lived on each level.”

  “I believe it,” I said as we went from room to room on the first floor. What I guessed were children’s toys were scattered haphazardly across the floor of one room. As if whoever lived here left everything behind and there wasn’t any time to tell the kids to clean their room.

  There wasn’t any furniture in the way we’d normally think of couches or dining tables. But there were hammocks, which I imagined were what the elves used in lieu of beds, hanging from beams attached to the walls.

  “Anyone here?” Layla asked, her voice echoing through the rooms.

  No response.

  “Next floor?” I asked.

  Layla nodded. She still had her bow ready. Whoever was here wasn’t likely a threat. Based on the fact that they hadn’t shown themselves, I imagined they were probably as nervous about encountering us as we were them.

  We climbed the stairs to the second floor. As we circled the floor, which was not as cluttered as the first one, we spotted a body lying in one of the hammocks. Whoever it was had long white hair hanging off the side.

  We approached, and Layla put her hand on the man’s chest.

  “Echor?” Layla asked.

  “I’m not leaving, Brightborn,” the man said. “I’m sorry, Princess. I told your father before. I’m too old for a new adventure. This is my home, and this is w
here I plan to spend the rest of my days.”

  “Echor,” Layla said. “I’m not with my father. He doesn’t even know I’m here.”

  Echor grunted and rolled to the side, then lowered his feet off his hammock to the ground. “He doesn’t know, you say?”

  Layla shook her head. “How long have you been here, alone?”

  Echor shrugged. “Several months. Who is this? He’s not an elf.”

  “I’m a human,” I said. “You can call me Caspar.”

  “Echor,” the man said. “I must ask, why are you two here?”

  “My father is trying to conquer Earth,” Layla said.

  Echor sighed. “Of course he is. The news of his plans came as a shock to most of us. But when he told them that the magic would be leaving us, nearly everyone left. A few, like me, stayed behind. They refused to leave.”

  “How long ago was this?” Layla asked.

  “I can’t say. I’ve lost track of time. Living alone, you stop counting days after a while. But he took most of the people to Earth. Then he and the legion returned for a time. But when the legion left, most of the magic went with them.”

  “How many more survivors are there?” Layla asked.

  “I haven’t seen a soul since magic left,” Echor said. “I don’t think many who stayed behind made it. I think I may be the only one who still lives.”

  “You said he took everyone to Earth?” Layla asked. “Any idea where they went?”

  Echor shook his head. “Orders came to dress for a cold climate. Some place he referred to as the Arctic.”

  I snorted. “So there are elves at the North Pole after all. Priceless.”

  Layla backhanded me on my arm. “Excuse my husband. He has a knack for making jokes at the worst of moments.”

  “What?” I asked.

  “I don’t think I follow the joke,” Echor said.

  Layla rolled her eyes. “On Earth, they have a myth, a story about a man who lives on the north pole of Earth and has elves working for him to make toys for all the good boys and girls of the world.”

  “We call him Santa Claus,” I said. “He delivers toys every Christmas Eve. I mean, that’s the story. The parents really just buy them for their kids and tell them that Santa and the elves brought them.”