by RG Long
“My son,” he said, waving with his hand so that Dilinor would come forward. He encouraged his horse to stand beside his father’s. For a long moment, the only sound that broke the silence was the occasional call of a night bird or the swish of their horses’ tails.
“Do you know why we are taking the continent for our own?” came Finore’s question out of the silence. Dilinor took a deep breath. He had before him the pieces of a puzzle, but he knew he was missing an integral part that made it difficult to fit the others in.
“I know we are following the will of Emperor Rophilborn. And we are gathering the resources available to other countries that are not readily available to Enoth. Trees and stone, food and farmable land.”
Finore nodded without turning his gaze to Dilinor.
“And for what reason are we collecting what we can no longer attain in the southern parts of Irradan?”
Dilinor thought for a moment longer this time.
“The towers that are being built,” he finally answered. “We would not be able to build them with the resources we have in Enoth.”
“This is true,” Finore said. “We lack the labor, the food, the timber, among other things to build these great towers. Eight in total so far. The last must be built on the cliff we now face.”
“And why are we building the towers?” Dilinor asked before he thought through his question, or the repercussions of answering it.
There was a long pause in which Finore took several deep breaths.
“We follow the will of Emperor Rophilborn, as you have said.”
Dilinor thought this would be the end of the matter. The elves of Enoth should do the will of the emperor. No questions. No arguments. No explanations.
But that was not the case.
“The towers are integral to the plan of the emperor to gain immortality,” Finore explained. “A gift he plans to bestow upon his most loyal subjects and faithful servants.”
Dilinor was sure he heard the words, but was unable to process them. Eternal life?
“The first emperor of Enoth saw this day coming,” Finore continued. “He prophesied its arrival and gave instruction to the emperors who followed him, so that this might one day be possible. Rophilborn will lead us into eternal life, son. We’ll have no fear of death or decay.”
He shook himself, as if to see if he was asleep. His senses told him he was very much awake as a cold breeze blew over him.
“Father,” he began, not knowing what his next words might be. He was interrupted.
“It may be difficult to understand now, being so young,” Finore said. “But you will see. Soon. After the towers are complete and the ritual has begun.”
“Ritual?” Dilinor asked, his mind spinning. “Father, how can you know this to be true?”
He wanted answers, not more questions. All things must come to an end and die. Even the long-lived elves were not immortal.
In answer, Finore held up a parchment. Though it was dark, there remained just enough light for Dilinor to see the Emperor’s sign on the rolled up paper.
“We’ve been in correspondence over the war and other things as well,” he said. “I have the emperor’s trust for what we’ve accomplished here in Darrion. And I will be one of the few chosen to receive immortality along with him. It is a favor he will allow me to pass to you.”
A bird called in the night and echoed inside of Dilinor’s head. He was young in elven years. Young, and still he considered himself wise. This seemed like madness, the worries of an old elf faced with his own death.
Not a promise to life everlasting.
He said nothing for so long that Finore had time to return the paper to a side pouch and examine the city once more.
“You’ll see,” Finore repeated. “Tomorrow, when the battle begins, I want you by my side. I do not fear defeat, but I will not have you lost to me by some stray arrow or sword when eternity is so close to our grasp.”
The general reached over to Dilinor and patted his shoulder.
“Tomorrow,” he said. “You’ll be by my side. And we will ride to victory, and then on to life.”
Without waiting for a response, he turned his horse and rode back to the camp. A contingent of bodyguards had awaited him a short distance away and they traveled back with him. This left Dilinor facing a city he did not wish to attack, with more questions about why they were even in this war in the first place.
The bird in the sky called again and Dilinor lost track of how long he sat upon the horse staring out at Lone Peak. It was the suns that called him out of his thoughts. And it was the trumpet that called him to war.
37: Victory At Last
Cold winter air blew his vessel forward, but the temperature had no bearing on Rophilborn, Emperor of Enoth. His spirits were high. He had just received word from the palace that an assassination attempt on his bride had been foiled. The rebellious southern part of his empire must be weakening if this was unsuccessful.
Another message had come from the elves who had successfully claimed most of the cities of Darrion. The towers were being built as he had requested and with the designs given to him of old. It was finally within his grasp.
Life.
Another bird flew towards his ship and landed obediently on the railing. Its handler removed the message and bowed as she gave it to Rophilborn. He unfurled it and read the short reply to his letter.
His servant would meet him before the end of the day with news of Death’s Gate, Blood Spire, and his attempt to retrieve the girl. Rophilborn handed back the letter and dismissed the bird handler. There was no doubt in his mind. All was going according to plan.
“Sir.”
Rophilborn turned to see his captain bowing along with a few of the sailors of their vessel. They all stayed low, save for the captain who straightened up to address him.
“We’ve made good time and I’ve heard that the rest of our fleet will be with us by the end of the day. Shall we wait for them here?”
The emperor looked around him. They had seated themselves along the coast of the inner sea, in between Lone Peak and Death’s Gate. The plan was to attack the last human city with the majority of their force, as it was the best defended. If any attempt had been made to recruit the pirates of either group, Rophilborn’s fleet had set about neglecting them the opportunity.
“Yes,” he replied. “We’ll wait, as we ought.”
The captain bowed and turned away to see that the orders were carried out. Rophilborn swelled with pride. No less than twenty ships were with him now. No fewer than twenty more would join them. The elves of Enoth’s main force were housed within these boats. The humans would surrender or find themselves overrun and overwhelmed to the point of total annihilation.
The latter would be better for Enoth. That would mean more supplies for them in the harsher winter months ahead.
Rophilborn decided it was time to take a well-deserved rest in his study. He began to walk in the direction of his quarters, flagging down a servant as he did so.
“When the fleet from the west arrives, send their messenger to me directly,” he said. “I’ll be within my study.”
“Yes, Your Excellency.”
THE KNOCK AT HIS DOOR came sooner than he expected. The suns had not yet reached the horizon when his apprentice entered and bowed down. Rophilborn stood from his chair and the maps of Irradan he had been pouring over. On one particularly old looking parchment, nine stars had been drawn onto various locations all over Irradan, with nine lines intersecting at a place in the middle of the inner sea.
“Your Excellency,” he said as he bowed, his face hidden as it always was by his mask. “I have good news to bring to you, my Lord.”
A small smile creased Rophilborn’s lips. This was the kind of news he enjoyed hearing.
“The pirates of Blood Spire have agreed to align with the empire. They’ve pledged their allegiance and, as a first act, have begun their assault on Death’s Gate with several of our own ships. They’re
outnumbered three vessels to one. The city of pirates will not stand against us long.”
Rophilborn nodded as he examined his map again. Only one of the stars was left uncovered by a small replica of a tower with a small piece of Rimstone above it.
“And the escaped prisoners?” he asked.
“They were last seen heading for the island,” the masked elf replied. “Four of Blood Spire’s ships are awaiting them there. They were instructed to bring every person on the island to us alive.”
“And you have faith in their abilities?” Rophilborn asked.
“I have no doubt they will succeed, my Lord.”
Rophilborn turned to look out of his window. The suns were setting and he could see the southern fleet approaching them. It was time to finish this campaign he had begun.
“The construction of the nine is underway,” he said. “Life beyond life is soon within our grasp. All of the pieces have come into play. Now, it is time to cast the final stroke. We must be swift and decisive. All of our forces have been gathered for this final push.”
He motioned to the letters scattered on his ornate desk.
“Some of the human cities we've occupied have rebelled. None of the most important ones, of course. Their leaders have requested our aid. We must establish our base within Lone Peak and, from there, ensure that none of our newly built towers are destroyed.”
“Understood,” the masked elf replied.
“Finore has his troops outside the gates of Lone Peak,” Rophilborn continued. “When we strike, so will he. It will be a decisive stroke the ensures that Enoth is ruler of this continent. Then we will be able to harness the power that resides within the Comet and claim it for our own.”
“Of course,” he replied.
“We will be a true empire then,” Rophilborn said. “And, with the power that is given to us, we will expand beyond the borders of Irradan to the realms beyond. We will be unstoppable. Resources beyond imagination available to us to spend and consume to appease the Comet.”
He turned to face the elf who had served him faithful for hundreds of years. Forty vessels sat just beyond the walls of his study. Thousands of elves camped just outside the walls of Lone Peak. Their victory was ensured.
“And then,” Rophilborn said with a satisfied feeling in his chest. “We will truly rule as the powers have meant it to be.”
38: Return
Ealrin was shouting as loud as he could. The ring of the battle was still in his ears. The shattered remains of the naval assault that had been thwarted were all around them. None of it mattered. He was holding Blume’s shoulders, praying that she was alright. Shouting her name over and over again.
They had landed in the water right outside the ring of destroyed Enoth and Blood Spire ships. Nerashi had made short work of what was left of the naval fleet. After Blume’s third magical assault had sent their own glowing orbs back at their owners, the attackers were overwhelmed by the dragon and the ships of Death’s Gate that had finally prepared for action.
Those things were all secondary to Ealrin. Blume had once fallen into a coma when she had overused her power. For months, he watched her unresponsive form. He refused to repeat something so horrible again.
A flutter of her eyes sent Ealrin into a fit of laughter. She was awake.
“You’re okay!” he shouted, giving her a hug and pulling her into a sitting position.
“Ow! Ow! Ow” she said, returning his embrace but obviously wincing at something. “Yes, I’m fine, but please, don’t shout.”
Ealrin gently pulled back, sitting on the deck and helping Blume to right herself.
“What happened?” she asked, looking around. “And why are we in the water? Are we supposed to be in the water? Or did I just dream we were flying?”
“Nope, we were flying alright,” Silverwolf said from behind Ealrin’s shoulder. “And flyboy here has yet to explain himself, thanks to you being all passed out on the deck.”
She squatted next to the pair of them.
“You look horrible,” she said as she narrowed her gaze. “Let’s get that harness off you and check for bruising. You hit your head pretty good. Not that it’ll improve being in your company any.”
Ealrin chuckled despite the look of frustration Blume gave Silverwolf. The assassin undid the buckles on the harness and pulled it off of Blume, but she didn’t appear to be gentle about it.
Blume gave out a small yelp as her arms were yanked backwards.
“Hey!” she said. “I could’ve had a broken arm!”
“Hmm,” Silverwolf said as she held the harness. “No blood. You must be okay. And now we know you don’t have a broken arm either.”
Ealrin let out a sigh of relief.
"You shouldn't look so worried," Blume moaned as she rubbed her head and closed her eyes. A grimace came over her face, but nothing more serious than that.
"You didn't have to watch over yourself for a couple months in a coma," Ealrin replied.
He got to his feet and looked around. The deck was filled with debris. Ships from Death's Gate were sailing out to meet them. Holve was by his side after a moment.
"I'm curious what they want to ask us," he said.
At that moment a tired looking but triumphant dragon landed on their deck.
"Well done, Miss Nerashi!" Jurrin said enthusiastically as he ran up to the dragon and patted her on her claw.
Felicia was beside him in a flash, pulling him back.
"You might ask her next time," she said looking up at the dragon.
Ealrin heard that same gurgling noise he hoped was laughter coming from Nerashi.
"The halfling has my permission anytime he wishes to congratulate me on a battle well fought and revenge well earned," Nerashi said, her eyes gleaming down at Jurrin.
"That's fair,” Felicia said, releasing her grasp on him.
Everyone seemed in good spirits. They hadn't expected the battle, but Ealrin had come to hope they might arrive on top of any confrontation that came their way. With the dragon, Blume's magic, and this flying vessel, their fortunes had definitely taken a turn.
When the ships from Death's Gate came close enough, Ealrin could see that Denise was captaining the nearest one with her brother, Micah, at the helm with her.
They made their way onto the pirate's ship as soon as a bridge was laid across the two. Micah was the first to speak.
"It seems we owe you an apology and thanks," he said, making a deep bow. "The city of Death's Gate would surely have been overrun without you today."
Ealrin noticed that he still eyed the dragon they had left on the flying ship warily, but was no longer cowering.
He looked with pride at their group and returned the bow to Micah.
"Apology accepted and gratitude received," he said.
Holve walked forward and stood between the two.
"I believe we have a lot of strategy to discuss before we move forward."
SEVERAL HOURS LATER, a joint meeting of the elves from the woods, the dwarves who resided in Death's Gate, the pirates who lived there, and Ealrin and the Swords was taking place in the judges' tower.
"We have to discern why they were attacking us in the first place," Micah argued. “While we greatly appreciate your defense of our city and the weakening of Blood Spire's fleet, we can only assume that they wanted you, my new friends."
Ealrin had to admit that he was curious about the timing of the attack. Death's Gate and Blood Spire had apparently feuded for uncounted years. But why would Enoth decide to join with one group over the other all of a sudden?
Holve had his theory.
"It's quite possible that the empire only wanted to have one band of pirates to deal with instead of two,” he said shrugging his shoulders. "It's quite possible that you were just the unlucky ones."
"Or that the empire wanted nothing to do with the dwarves," Thane Ironheel interjected.
"That's fair," Holve agreed. "Or, perhaps, they learned that this is where the elves
fled after they were driven from the forest. We might not know their intention with this attack, but what we need to know is what the empire intends to do next.”
Silence fell in the room as several of the participants in the meeting began to think on the possibilities.
“It may very well be their ambition to wipe you out as the last possible threats,” Teresa offered, quite unexpectedly.
Everyone turned to her and gave her a questioning look. Ealrin raised an eyebrow.
“How do you mean?” he asked.
Teresa shifted in her position, leaning up against the wall with her arms crossed.
“They think they’ve wiped out the elves in the woods,” she said. “They’re probably sure that the human settlements are done for. As for the south, they’ve controlled that for years.”
Unpleasant exchanges took place all around the room. The uncomfortable truth of it was palpable.
“You were more than likely the very last one of their cares,” Teresa finished, allowing her hair to fall into her eyes. Ealrin took that as a sign that she was done speaking for a time.
“If that’s the case,” Holve started to say, moving his gaze from Teresa to Micah at the judge’s table. “You’re going to need to find allies. And quickly.”
Micah looked at Holve with a questioning look.
“Allies?” he asked. “What good would allies do us now? We ought to redouble our defenses and brave the storm we know that’s coming!”
Holve shook his head.
“You won’t survive the storm on your own. You’re talking about the entire continent of Irradan being ruled by Enoth. How could you possibly weather that?”
Ealrin thought he had a point. And he had an idea.
“Send an envoy to Lone Peak,” he said, sitting up in his chair a bit.
“Pardon?” Micah asked.
“A couple of ships,” Ealrin said as his mind was attempting to catch up to his mouth. “You have representatives from three nations here. Why not send three ships or more to Lone Peak. Show them that you want to ally with them and fight Enoth together.”
