by RG Long
“Best leave her to the work at hand,” Holve replied with a small wink at Ealrin.
With that, their meeting was over. The companions began making their way through the streets of Lone Peak, following the herald as he shouted his message for all to hear.
THE PORTS WERE A FLURRY of activity. The elven vessels had dropped off their crews some miles away so the army could march up to Lone Peak impressively. Now the ships were unpacking in full force.
Huge white vessels with purple sails and gold inlaid into beautiful runes lined the docks.
It took much longer than normal to navigate the docks. Elves were running in all directions, seeking to obey the orders of their officers. The usual dock workers and fishermen had their normal routines demolished by the arrival of such a force and seemed to be in a generally grumpy mood. Some were cursing at their bad luck.
Ealrin saw two Darrion boats laden with fish but with nowhere to unload their cargo. Their two captains were cursing at each other as well as the overwhelmed port master who was trying to direct them down to a further spot to make port.
Curious citizens of Darrion made everything more difficult by standing and gawking at the sight.
Once Ealrin and company arrived at their vessel, the crew made their way down below deck to where the prisoner was being held.
Ealrin had to appreciate that it didn't seem like the rogue elf was being mistreated. He was being kept in one of the smaller rooms, Felicia explained, but not in the stocks that the pirate ship they had commissioned provided.
Urt retrieved the key and inserted it into a keyhole towards the top half of the door. This allowed a small space, no bigger than Ealrin's palm to swing forward. The hallway outside the door was cramped with all the people inside of it. Holve ordered up Jurrin and Jurgon as well as Tory and Gorplin since three of them already knew the story of the elf and the other could get filled in along the way.
He made his way forward and peered into the opening.
Ealrin could see that the elf had not tried to escape, nor had he struggled much against his bonds: light shackles held his wrists together. He sat rather relaxed in a simple wooden chair next to a set of bunks. Ealrin glanced in just long enough to see the elf had a defiantly resigned look on his face.
His hair was white, though he didn't seem like an elder, and had pronounced features. Unlike most of his race, whose skin was typically pale and white, the sun had tanned his a light golden brown.
The most striking feature about him was his stunningly blue eyes. The elf just sat there, not acknowledging them in the least.
"So I hear you and your mates decided they wanted to attack my captain's boat," Holve started off, nudging Ealrin out of the way so that he could speak to him clearly.
Silence.
"That's about as much as we got out of both of them," Felicia said as Holve looked over at her. "Not a very talkative prisoner."
He looked from Ealrin to Felicia and back again.
"What do you think we should do with them?"
It was the second time Holve had asked Ealrin his opinion on someone they had captured. The first time, Ealrin had prescribed a light sentence to repay for the trouble of stealing a simple locket.
This time, however, he was not the one who had apprehended the villain, but he did have an idea anyways.
"Did you know there a lot of elves up at Lone Peak right now?" Ealrin asked, nudging Holve over in order to speak directly to the elf. "I wonder if the Empire of Enoth would have anything to say about you raiding boats and burning down cities?"
"We didn't burn anything," the elf said, taking everyone by surprise. "And we don't have much to do with any of the other land dwelling elves around."
With that, he closed his eyes and reclined against the wall. But his face was slightly less defiant.
"Must've hit a nerve, Ealrin," said Holve sideways to him.
He turned his attention back to the elf inside the cabin and Ealrin stepped out of the way.
"We'll see if we might be able to change your mind about that," the older man said before shutting the opening himself and motioning for Urt to lock it.
They all returned to the top deck and saw that the suns were setting.
"What do you make of that?" Felicia asked the crew at large.
"I say give him a rowboat and watch him sail over the horizon," Tory suggested.
No one paid his response any attention.
"He doesn't seem to like the other elves," Ealrin said. "I wonder if we could get them to help us make him talk?"
Holve sighed as he looked up the cliffs at the still bustling city.
"I don't have any better ideas," he said. "Get him something to eat. We'll be back for him in the morning."
"Bah. And what about our supper?" Gorplin asked impatiently.
"Should be ready for us by the time I get back up to the house, sir," Jurrin replied. "I saw Mrs. Brewer working on something over the stove as we left."
Leave it to the halfling to notice the food, Ealrin thought.
He and the crew headed back for the small house. Ealrin was sure that they would be able to get some information out of the elf tomorrow with the help of the new visitors.
What he wasn't sure of was what exactly they would find out. The connection between this pirate and the other elves intrigued him.
Maybe there was a connection that they, being strangers to this land, hadn't quite put together yet.
Through a flurry of activity and bustling all around them, the crew slowly made their way back through the busy port and up the steps to the first lower level.
Tory was just getting started complaining about climbing stairs all day long, when a flash of white raced past them.
It was enough to cause them to turn their leisurely pace into a run.
Holve cursed and began climbing the stone stairs furiously.
Their prisoner had escaped.
24: A Knife to the Throat
Over the wide, flat horizon, four figures could be seen stirring up dust that was born away on the cool spring breeze.
Two of the speeding dots were clothed in meager fabric and had only tough leather shoes to absorb the constant pounding of their feet against hard packed dust and stone. The remaining two were clothed in fine leather armor and boots. Metal plate gleamed on their chests and shining helmets adorned their heads. Spears were clutched tightly in their fists.
If the first pair had any advantage, it was that their poor clothing was lighter than the heavy armor of the guards of Enoth. But that was where their advantages ended.
Serinde was running for her life.
She had killed an elf, a high-ranking officer of the empire. If she were caught now, she'd be dragged back to Azol and made an example of. They'd hang her from the highest tower as a warning to those who might defy their masters.
The scene played out so well in her head because she had seen it happen before.
And her sister, Erilas, who ran beside her would be hung as well for being associated with a criminal. The Enoth guards were known for their over-reaching ideas of justice.
The two guards who gave her and her sister chase were still close enough to throw their merciless spears. All it would take was a glancing blow to either of them and they would be caught. Neither would leave without the other.
Serinde would rather die than leave her sister to the guards. But, at the current rate, they may simply both find their fates at the end of a long rope. Her sides were stitching up and her legs burned with fire. Their meager lunch was long ago spent on their escape from Azol.
Ahead of them, Serinde saw their one chance.
"Try to hide in those ruins!" she managed to say to her sister, though her lungs ached with every word.
Up ahead of them, just visible in a cloud of dust a breeze was stirring up, was what looked to be the remnants of a settlement. Some long forgotten elven village.
It was going to be the only chance at surviving this that they had. Erilas
nodded in reply.
In that short moment of looking at her sister, Serinde knew that they would both soon have spent all their energy running. Even now, she felt like she was running on adrenaline alone.
She flew past the first dilapidated stone structures, hearing the shouts of the two guards behind her. They were better fed and better trained for chases such as this. If the sisters were to survive, they would need to outsmart them.
"Eri!" Serinde said as she slowed to a jog.
Half walls and what looked like great stone monuments rose up all around them. "Climb! Get high up!"
They were following an ancient road down the middle of the village or square or whatever it may have been once. The street was long overgrown and cracked with the movement of the earth.
Serinde put her hand onto several stones stacked into a column and heaved herself up with great effort.
Erilas was not so quick or skilled at climbing.
Before she could find a purchase on the wall she had planned to scale, one of the Enoth guards grabbed her ankle and began to tug her back down, spear ready to strike. Erilas was holding onto a stone for the sake of her life. Serinde was flying through the air at her sister's attacker before any thought of her own danger crossed her mind. She collided with the guard and they fell backward, into a heap.
Erilas' stone that she was climbing shook loose and began to topple.
The guard had just grabbed onto Serinde's throat when Erilas tackled her hard, pushing her out of harm's way as the stone came tumbling down.
A sickening metallic crunch and a pained groan were all that remained of the first guard. Serinde was on her feet in a breath, knowing the second guard would be on them in moments. The fallen spear of the first was in her hands without her even remembering picking it up.
She didn't immediately see him and it made the hairs on her neck stand on end in anticipation. Where had he gone? He was right on the heels of his partner.
Unless.
Serinde spun and saw it too late. Helmeted and silent, the guard was standing just above Erilas, who had struggled to her knees. The silver knife gleamed brilliantly against the dirty throat of her sister's neck. Heavy breathing told her that the guard was winded, but the tone in his voice let her know he thought he had won.
"Pretty things, you two," he snarled.
Serinde was glad the helmet obscured his face. She wouldn't have liked the look he was giving them, she could tell.
"Too bad they'll hang you both before the suns are up tomorrow."
Erilas wasn't struggling at all. She had used every ounce of her energy to run and now her eyes pleaded with Serinde. It was hard to see her like this.
"Drop the spear, pretty," the guard ordered with a tone of voice that turned Serinde's stomach. "Maybe we can work out a way for you to not get hung."
She had a feeling she knew what he was talking about.
The twin elves were pretty. Their father had said he'd seen more eyes turn to follow his girls than any other he'd known on Azol. It was all from their mother. She had been beautiful and the envy of their neighbors.
Now their beauty was not doing them any favors.
"I said, drop the spear," the guarded repeated, his voice betraying his impatience. With one hand he grasped Erilas' hair, with his other he held his knife tightly against Erilas' throat, jostling her a bit as he ordered Serinde.
Her sister had silent tears rolling down her cheeks. Serinde tried to imagine the horrible things this guard would request. And knew that he'd end up killing them when he was finished anyways. Guards of Enoth weren't known for their honesty.
"I think the three of us can come to an agreement you'll really like," Serinde said as sweetly as she could possibly muster.
The guard relaxed his hold on Erilas. A twisted smile shown through his helmet as the suns began to sink into the horizon.
It was death now or later.
With all the force she could find within herself, she lunged at the guard, her spear aimed at the guard's throat. Having his guard down for that one moment was her only hope. His grip on Erilas loosened and she scrambled free. She heard the distinct clatter of metal on stone.
He had dropped his knife.
The guard was flailing, trying to punch his attacker. He swung his fists around wildly, swiping air. Serinde became aware of a sharp pain in her side, but she knew to succumb to pain would mean her death.
His metal armor was cold against her body and his strong arms threatened her with every swing. Serinde was clawing at the only bit of skin she could see on the guard: his throat.
With an angry shout, he tossed Serinde off of him and against a stone wall. She grunted in pain as she heard a distinct crack. Her arms reached out to push herself up from the ground when she felt something metallic: the knife. Boots were running towards her and she knew a swift kick would be the end of her.
She grabbed the knife and leapt upward, hoping to make contact with any part of her assailant.
By fate or by luck, she did.
Standing up and shaking violently, Serinde could feel the knife connect with the throat of the guard. He gurgled painfully in a shout, and then fell to his knees. The knife he had held so tightly against Erilas' throat was now lodged firmly into his own. He began to convulse as a dark red covered the ground around him.
Not wanting to leave things to chance, Serinde pounced on him. She took the knife from his throat and drove it into his helmet. All the fear and anger and frustration and loss she had felt that day fueled her rage as she plunged the knife again and again into the guard who threatened to kill her sister.
Her father was gone.
Her home was gone.
Her way of life was gone.
And it was all the empire's fault.
She hated them.
She hated anything that had anything to do with the empire.
Screams of rage left her mouth as she forgot who she was, where she was, and what she had done.
Breathing heavily and realizing that she was sobbing angry tears, a gentle voice called to her.
Erilas.
"Seri. Help," were the words that finally brought her back to her surroundings.
She lay a few steps away. Her hand was clutching her throat.
Both were covered in red.
"Eri!" Serinde shouted.
She scrambled to her sister, who looked up painfully into her eyes.
"How bad?" she asked, not wanting to know, only wanting to make the flow of red stop and for her sister to be whole. She wanted to hear her laugh. To see her smile. She wanted more than life to know that her twin would survive.
As the suns began to sink past the horizon, however, a small flicker in her sister's eyes made her unsure if she would be responsible for another death before the day's end.
25: A Personal Message
Coriander was running out of elves who were not taking direct orders from him and his commanders. Goods were being moved from ship to shore now that the vessels had arrived at Lone Peak. Tents were being erected outside the city walls for those who would not be sleeping on the boats or as guests of the nobles of the city.
Food was being bought at any and all locations possible and being moved around the city from elf to elf. There was a good chance that anyone who saw any elf in a hurry could ask them their task and discover that Coriander had sent them personally.
It was, after all, his duty to the emperor to serve him in whatever capacity needed.
And at the moment, it was ensuring his troops and servants wouldn't go hungry for the duration of their time here. That was another thing Coriander intended to ask the emperor the next time he saw him.
How long were they planning on staying at Lone Peak? Orders continued to come from him and his personal guards. As goods were being brought up from the ship, food was to come down. Elven cloth and armor were to be replaced with grain and dried meats. While they were feeding themselves, it appeared to Coriander that they were also preparing to f
eed their army another time over.
The supplies they had brought were more than enough to bring them here and see them home in a fortnight. Were they staying even longer than that? No one seemed to have an answer, save for the emperor himself and he had been tight lipped to everyone.
Save for Cedric, the blasted priest.
Just thinking about him made Coriander check the docks for any sign of the orange robed priest. Elves hustled in every direction, fighting the current of the normal dock workers and sailors of Darrion who had their own tasks to tend to. Purple and silver gleamed in every direction. But the orange of the Comet priests didn't appear to be present. More noticeably, the tall figure of Cedric wasn't ordering his minions around or preaching some doom and gloom message for the time being.
Coriander sighed gratefully and went back to his checklist. But his mind couldn't focus. The priest had been all over the docks that morning, talking as loud as he could about the dangers of the elves who opposed the Enoth Empire and feared the comet.
Elves who lived in the trees of Irradan seemed of little importance to Coriander. What did they matter to the empire? Even if they were barbaric, like Cedric preached, how could elves with branches oppose an army as grand as any Enoth could send to them?
No. The elves were not a threat and best left to their own devices. They posed no danger.
But to listen to Cedric was to believe that they stood poised to invade both the southern empire of Enoth and the northern human kingdom of Darrion at the same time.
Such a scenario seemed unlikely and foolish. It had been a hundred years since the last major war of Enoth. Coriander himself had seen to victory of the Enoth elves over the southern rebels. How easily they had swept over the last hold outs of their brethren who had forsaken the care of the empire! Destroying elves who carried no more than vines for whips and branches for swords would be easy by comparison.
"Sir!" said a voice that snapped him back to reality.
Coriander was not organizing an army to repel elves armed with tree branches and rocks.
