Wars of Irradan

by RG Long

  Holve crossed his arms and gave her a stern look.

  “Crusty?” he asked.

  “You’ll thank me when you see the place I’ve got us lined up to stay in,” she replied, fingering the pendant around her neck, positioning it just so before looking at Gorplin. “Especially you, shortness.”

  Gorplin grunted.

  “You haven’t even looked at the city yet!” she protested, but shrugged and walked back down to the lower deck. What she was doing, Ealrin didn’t know.

  “Do you think she really has a place for us?” he asked Holve.

  He made a noncommittal grunt.

  “I wouldn’t be surprised,” he admitted. “But I wouldn’t hold my breath either.”

  THE DRAGON came sailing into port gradually. Denise ordered the sails be lifted and the ship began to stir to the open docks ahead. The three ships behind them began to do the same. Ealrin looked around to see elves from the woods gathering on the decks of each ship, looking and pointing. Some with enthusiasm. Others with disdain. The elves aboard their own vessel were more upset than pleased looking. Most had their arms folded across their chests.

  How were they going to handle this?

  Ropes were thrown to the dock workers who quickly tied the ship down. A gangplank was fastened to the ship and, immediately, a group of important looking pirates walked onto The Dragon. Denise ran to embrace one of them gladly.

  Ealrin noticed that each of these elves had the symbol of Death’s Gate tattooed on their flesh in some form. The design varied slightly each time, but the pattern was repeated over and over again: female elf, scythe, skull, and cloth.

  “I’m glad to see you have returned, sister,” said the elf as he let go of Denise and got a good look at her. “I was worried you had bitten off more than you could chew.”

  “No more than usual,” she replied before returning to issue orders to the sailors about unloading cargo and helping the Wood Walkers off the ship.

  Silverwolf then approached the elf as well, arms outstretched.

  “Micah!” she said with a wide smile. “It’s good to see you, too.”

  She would have tried to continue her pleasant talk, but it was interrupted. Four sailors rushed her and grabbed her outstretched arms. Silverwolf yelped as they handled her hurt arm too roughly. The healer on board The Dragon was not as skilled as most. Micah, for his part, elbowed her in the stomach before addressing her.

  “Wolf, they call you?” he said with disgust. “More like snake and viper.”

  Ealrin was in between them in a flash.

  “Wait!” he yelled, holding up a hand towards Micah and the other in the air to show he was not trying to incite more violence. “Wait a moment here!”

  The short elf observed him. He looked much like his sister. Dark with spiky hair. But his eyes were a dark green where Denise’s were a sky blue. He scoffed as he looked at Ealrin.

  “Human,” he began, waving an arm that the sailors took to mean, ‘drag a kicking and flailing Silverwolf down the gangplank.’ “This woman has swindled us and caused The Court much embarrassment that must be taken care of.”

  “The Court?” Ealrin replied, questioningly. “What embarrassment? She’s a friend of ours! She sent for the ships. She saved hundreds of Wood Walker elves as Enoth invaded their forest unprovoked!”

  Micah rose an eyebrow.

  “You’re not from Irradan, are you?” he asked. “I can tell by your accent. Maybe Ruyn or Redact. But you're no Darrion man.”

  Ealrin shook his head.

  “You’re right,” he said, “I’m from...”

  “I don’t care where you’re from,” Micah replied, turning to leave. “And, if she really is a friend of yours, you are welcome to come to her defense at court tomorrow at noon. We’ll decide her fate there. Perhaps you can sway us not to have her sold to pay her debts, hmm?”

  With that, he and his other companions walked down the gangplank, up the busy docks, and out of sight.

  “We haven’t been here ten minutes and Silverwolf has already been arrested,” Blume said, her arms crossed and standing next to Ealrin. “I was beginning to like her.”

  “Don’t,” Wisym advised. “She’s trouble.”

  Ealrin sighed deeply.

  “And, unfortunately for you two who aren’t so keen on her,” he said. “She had our two books and that pendant on her.”

  The companions looked off the ship in the direction they had dragged her.

  “Bah,” said Gorplin, leaning on his ax. “Anyone know what we’re gonna do with all these elves?”

  9: The Judge’s Chamber

  The docks of Death’s Gate were busy with elves: both natives to the city and the newcomers from the forest. The Wood Walkers were given wide berths by the elves who were busy carrying crates and barrels to and from each ship. It was easy to see why, Ealrin mused.

  Death’s Gate elves wore loose fitting shirts and dark trousers as a rule. Some had splashes of color here and there, but mostly it was a black and white affair. The females wore pants like the males, though the occasional one here or there wore a dress. The Wood Walkers, by contrast, wore vines or skins and other very natural, not quite concealing clothing.

  Some of the pirates laughed and pointed at the new elves. Others gave them questioning looks. None seemed ready to embrace long lost brothers and sisters from the other side of the sea. Death’s Gate was bustling and beautiful, but Ealrin thought it felt a little cool when it came to welcoming guests.

  “So, Silverwolf has our books and the pendant,” Ealrin said as their group tried to make their way to the front of the crowd. “And we have three hundred elves to try to relocate here in the city?”

  “If they let them stay in the city,” Wisym offered. “Remember Beaton? They were kind enough to give my people the ruined section of the city, but it doesn’t look like there’s much room to spare here.”

  “If Silverwolf has gone to the people in charge here,” Holve said bracingly. “Then we’ll go and have two main subjects to discuss.”

  “Three,” corrected Blume. “It’s worth asking about the tree.”

  Holve nodded.

  “So, who’s coming with me to try to get our assassin back?” he asked. “And, who wants to stay and try to organize the elves while we wait?”

  Ealrin stepped forward.

  “I’ll go with you,” he said.

  “Me, too,” Blume added.

  “I wish to go as well,” Amrolan said as he stepped forward. “Panto will stay with the ship as I’ve asked him to do. I think he would bother some of the natives if we let him wander.”

  Elen scoffed.

  “That bear will get us all killed, if not thrown out,” she said. “I’m coming, too. I will speak on behalf of my people about the horrors of Enoth.”

  Wisym nodded.

  “I’ll stay here with the others,” she said. “We’ll see what we can accomplish.”

  Holve seemed pleased with that.

  “Don’t get too friendly with anyone,” he said in a low voice. “Remember, we’re guests, but only as long as they would like us to be.”

  The companions all looked at one another. Ealrin shrugged his shoulders and crossed his arms.

  “Look,” he said, drawing their attention. “The last time we split up things didn’t go as we planned.”

  Wisym smiled drily. Holve let out a small chuckle and Blume put her hands on her hips.

  “So, wait until they come and tell us what they’re going to do with Silverwolf AND the books and pendant?” she asked with her brows in her hair.

  He knew she was right. But the idea of splitting up again gave him the chills. He didn’t want to lose any more friends.

  “We’ll be back by sundown,” he said. “To the ships. Everyone should keep out of trouble as best as you can.”

  “Right,” Wisym said, giving him a smile.

  He returned it.

  “Ready?” Blume said as she began to walk off the gangplank.
Ealrin stepped in front of her.

  “Ready,” he said, leading the way. Holve followed behind them as they stepped onto the docks and followed the same path that Silverwolf had been taken. Amrolan caught up beside Holve.

  The street was bustling with activity, though not as wildly as the docks.

  “Do you know much about Death’s Gate?” he asked Holve, looking over his shoulder. The crowd was beginning to thin a little from the bustle of the docks. They were walking through a type of marketplace now, with stalls and shops and venders of all sorts.

  “Just that it’s a pirate city,” Holve replied. “And that it’s not the worst place on Irradan to live, despite its name.”

  “But....”

  “But that’s it,” Holve finished. “I haven’t been able to discover more about it. Most of the books in Lone Peak focus on Darrion and the elves to the south. Whenever they mention the pirates, it’s mostly just to belittle them for stealing or raiding their ships or something similar. Nothing about their cities.”

  “I’ve heard tales of the city,” Amrolan said. “Though nothing to make us want to leave as soon as we came.”

  Their section of town seemed not to rise to meet the domed citadel that was in front of them. Instead, they made their way to a large bridge that connected the two sections. Many rope bridges went this way and that around it, but this path was much more stable. It also seemed that it was less traveled. Few went from or to the other section of the city. It was as if each preferred their own side and proposed to keep it that way.

  “Are you sure they went this way?” Ealrin asked Holve as they looked up at the structure ahead of them.

  A dark-haired elf passed by them, carrying a barrel above his head. Holve flagged him down.

  “The Court of this city,” he asked the elf, pointing past the bridge to the other side. “Is it this way?”

  The elf simply nodded and kept walking.

  “Want to wait for a better answer?” Holve asked Ealrin.

  He shook his head.

  “That’ll do for now,” he said and placed one of his feet on the bridge to cross it.

  Immediately and seemingly from nowhere, guards appeared on the bridge, approaching them quickly. They wore white uniforms with black ribbons tied to their arms and were armed with halberds. They also didn’t seem to enjoy being called out of their hiding places.

  “Here now!” one said, who had a red ribbon in addition to his black ones. “Where do you think you’re going, strangers?”

  Ealrin took his foot off the bridge and raised his hands in a gesture of peace.

  “We’re trying to find a friend,” he said.

  “Doubt you’ve got any friends up there,” said the elf, looking at their crew.

  Ealrin laughed a bit despite himself. There were eight of these elf guards. The last thing he wanted was to hurt their chances to get to Silverwolf.

  “We watched Micah take one of our companions to court,” he said with a half glance at Holve, who nodded. “We were wondering what might happen to her.”

  The head elf raised an eyebrow.

  “White hair? Human woman?” he asked.

  Ealrin nodded.

  “That’s the one.”

  The head guard relaxed and raised his halberd up from pointing it at them, as he had been doing. His companions did the same.

  “Come with us,” he said, turning to walk back to the other side of the bridge.

  Ealrin looked at Holve, who looked unwilling but sighed and took the first step across the bridge.

  “Doubt this will turn out well,” he said. “Let’s go.”

  Uneasily, the rest followed him along the bridge and into the other side of the city. Once they were across, they saw that nearly no elf walked on these cobbled stones. The other side was quite busy with merchants and sailors, stall workers and buyers. The change was eerie and made Ealrin shiver slightly.

  “Anyone else feel like they just walked into a cold pool?” he asked, knowing that what he said must have sounded odd. But when he looked down at Blume, she was rubbing her hands across her arms. It was as if the winter weather they had forgotten since arriving at the city suddenly recalled itself and condensed on the stones they walked upon.

  “Or a snowdrift,” she added. “What is this place?”

  The original guard turned around and looked back at them.

  “You’ve entered the Death’s Gate,” he said simply, before turning to continue the path he was leading them on.

  Ealrin looked at Holve with an eyebrow raised. Holve merely furrowed his brow and kept walking forward. Though they passed many wonderful buildings and beautifully carved structures, besides the occasional group of guards similar to their escorts, the whole side appeared completely deserted.

  Up some stairs, down a path, a left through a tunnel, and then up more stairs, the companions followed their guards until they looked out at both sides of the city from a railing that encircled a carefully tended courtyard.

  The main guard turned to them and indicated the door to the high tower. This was the area that ships flew and docked to in the sky. Ealrin marveled at them. They were both oddly strange and wonderful. He felt within him a desire to ride one so great he nearly forgot why they had come so far. A vessel with many red sails wound its way through the sky past them and into the blue beyond.

  “How...” he began to ask, wondering if the ships were born on the wind by magic or some other method.

  He was cut off by the guard.

  “Your friend is within, facing the Court,” he said.

  Ealrin turned to see the guard and remembered their reason in coming here. It wasn’t to fly a ship. It was to help Silverwolf. He shook the desire to fly away and steeled himself to look away from the ship and to the door. Something inside him knew he would long to be aboard one of those ships until his feet actually carried him aboard one.

  It was a very strange feeling.

  Blume grabbed his arm and pulled him around.

  “Come on,” she sighed. “Let’s try to get the assassin out of trouble.”

  Holve, Ealrin, Blume, Amrolan, and Elen all passed through the elaborately carved door at the same time. On one side of the door was the familiar female elf robed in her cloth. On the other side, her hands held her two objects: scythe and skull.

  As soon as they were passed the threshold, the guards closed the doors behind them and they slammed in such a way that echoed throughout what sounded like a cavernous room.

  If only they could see their surroundings.

  Ealrin wondered if they had been pushed into some prison against their will, when red lights began to ignite in a circle around the room. Once his eyes adjusted, he saw that pieces of ornately carved Rimstone lined the walls along the curved room. Some of them rose up next to a flight of stairs. Above him, he could hear voices.

  “Shall we?” Holve said, motioning at the stairs with his hand.

  Blume let out a deep sigh.

  “I agree with you, Holve,” she said. “This is going to end poorly.”

  They walked up the stairs, Ealrin and Holve first, followed by Blume, then Elen and Amrolan. The procession felt odd to Ealrin at first, but he knew that the slim stairway would hardly accommodate them any other way. They had gone nearly twenty steps when the stairs ended and a flat stone floor appeared. The voices died away as the party came up the steps and onto the floor.

  Ealrin could see enough of the setting to get a glimpse of what was going on. Illuminated by the red light of the Rimstone, five very well dressed and important looking people sat at a half-rounded table. Each of them sat in an ornately carved stone chair. They were a strange group to behold. Three were elven; that was plain enough. And one was Micah, the elf who had come to the ship and led Silverwolf away. The other two elves were as different as night and day: one with black hair, the other with pure white. The fourth at the table was a female woman, whose head was shaved completely, yet her gold earrings, elaborate makeup, and many je
weled bangles and necklaces ensured no one mistook her for a man. The last, and most surprising, member of this group was a dwarf. A red haired, stout looking dwarf who wore an eyepatch over one eye.

  These five sat underneath a large banner of the elf female with scythe, skull, and ribbon. Yet this time, instead of being on a white banner as the others had been, this one was on a blood red standard. The effect was quite jarring.

  Each glared at Ealrin and his companions as they ascended the steps. The woman who stood in the middle of them, hands bound by ropes, turned to give them a look that told Ealrin she was both glad they had arrived and annoyed they had taken so long.

  “See?” she said, motioning to them with her hands tied together. “My friends!”

  None at the table looked glad to see them.

  “Your friends, hmm?” Micah said, eyeing them each in turn. “The ones you brought with you along with hundreds of elves to our doorstep?”

  “The ones your sister brought here per our agreement!” Silverwolf snapped, turning back to face the table. “I said I needed boats to rescue some elves. You sent them. We came back. Why have I been put in restraints like a criminal?”

  “I wonder if your friends are aware of the other part of our bargain?” Micah asked, looking from Silverwolf to the others.

  She did not turn to face them this time. Micah smiled.

  “I thought not,” he said. Micah stood from his stone chair and observed the room at large, looking at each member of Ealrin’s company in turn. His eyes were like ice. It was at this time that Ealrin noticed that the room was lined with many more guards. At least six of whom had moved to block the stairs leading to the exit below.

  “Your friend, as you call her now, has promised us a great treasure in exchange for our services to her,” he said, with a grim smile on his face. “I wonder if you can tell us what that treasure might be?”