The Missing

by Jeremy Forsyth

  “For the Elder!” I cried, my right foot already on the gunwale of the bow. I used it to push myself into the air, both hands gripping the hilt of my longblade, the length of its steel pointed downwards.

  I was falling fast. I saw the lowest part of the creature’s neck in range and, for a moment, the honours I expected from my people at accomplishing such a daring feat was all I could envision. That was until lightning struck once more and suddenly it occurred to me that I would not reach my target - I hadn’t jumped far enough.

  It was as if my concern somehow dictated my reality. The monster was further now and all that came to greet me was the restless waves; the weight of my armour dragging me down beneath its depths.

  While the sun glared into my stinging eyes, blinding me, my lungs burned. I coughed out ocean water while the tide kept coming back, pushing me further out onto the beach, as if my very presence offended it. I didn’t move. I lay on my front for some time, aware of the chaffed tender flesh of my right cheek grinding on the wet and dark sand beneath me.

  The sounds I heard were merging together; seagulls soaring above, their squawking loud and irksome, then the waves breaking behind me. But when a great shadow appeared, blotching out the sun, those sounds were forgotten.

  I strained with flimsy effort to see who it was that offered me shade. At first, all I saw was a tall and broad figure peering down on me - then I recognised that this fellow was armed and armoured; his surcoat emblazoned with the Moon Elf emblem; the Alepion moon, together with the three Darkmoon stars hovering above it. But when I noticed the crown of the Golden Elders over the Darkmoon stars, a quick revelation dawned on me, so much so that I could revive my weary bones with a jolt of urgency.

  “Slacking again, I see,” said the figure during my effort to get up from the ground so that I could bow in his presence.

  Again? I thought.

  I managed to get on one knee, my head staring at the floor, eyes watching the shadow of the Elder. Even his shadow had me in awe.

  “Enough time has been wasted. Come.”

  And just like that the Elder of Alepion turned and the glare of the sun was on me again, burning with an intensity equal to the fire of disappointment that I felt within myself. I, to my shame, had apparently and unwittingly kept a Great Servant waiting.

  It was as if I hadn’t been washed up on the beach. I walked with new vitality, desiring to catch up with the ruler of my country, but it seemed as if he was already over the sandy hill for I couldn’t locate him. I hurried up the slope and at the top I was greeted by a pleasing afternoon wind.

  Standing, with the world seemingly beneath me, I felt like some hero out of a story. Part of me felt guilty for such a feeling, for surely it was the Elder who was the hero? Not me? In fact, who was I?

  I looked to examine my attire as if it would answer my query. To my relief, I saw what I hoped to see; that I was adorned in the armour of a crescent, possessing the crescent’s colours.

  “You’re missing something,” said a voice.

  I looked to my right and there he was, a mighty giant; the Elder who had brought an end to the age of the Golden Elders and who appeared as fierce as his reputation had described him. He was the most powerfully proportioned ruler to have ever sat on the Alepion Throne.

  The Elder was leaning against a rock. His arms were folded and to complete the look of indifference that he was just now displaying, a piece of straw hung from his mouth.

  Suddenly, the Elder unfolded his arms, one hand taking the straw from his mouth and discarding it. He walked towards me in great strides, his mighty and intimidating profile so belligerent that my instincts beckoned me to shrink back. But I didn’t. I was a crescent. Not some coward. And this elf was my commander. My Elder. And I was one of his. I was one of his crescents. I fought for him.

  “Where is your longblade, warrior?” the Elder asked me, his gaze scrutinising.

  His was a hard face, curtained by thick brown locks that fell long passed his shoulders; his eyes were a rich brown - disconcertingly penetrating and displaying a look of disappointment that I couldn’t help but feel was aimed at me even though I knew it couldn’t be, for what crescent would be missing his weapon?

  Confidently, my hand moved to half draw my longblade, “My Elder, I ----” my hand fumbled at my ribs. I looked down and my eyes went wide as the heat of embarrassment rose to my cheeks. I looked from my empty scabbard to the Elder, who was still judging me, then again to my empty scabbard.

  “Apologies, my Elder I ----”

  The Elder frowned at me and pointed down at the valley below the slope that we were currently standing on.

  “They will need your longblade, crescent.”

  My head slowly turned, and I recoiled when I saw who the Elder was referring to.

  The entire valley below glinted with reflective sunlight shimmering off the steel helms of the warriors of Alepion. Banners hailing the moon and stars of the Moon Elves fluttered in the easy breeze while black cloaks billowed casually. Tears filled my eyes at the awesomeness of the scene, for the valley hosted crescents that numbered in the thousands. It was an incredible congregation of valour, its loyalty to Alepion and its leader, the Elder who currently stood intently by my side, chastising me with silent judgement.

  I looked at him, on the verge of begging for another chance when I saw his expression harden with impatience.

  “Look, crescent,” he said, through clenched teeth, adding with suppressed anger, “Look!”

  I turned my head again, my gaze falling once more on the captivating image of the great army of Alepion. But then my eyes rose beyond and, for the first time, I saw that there was another army on the opposite end of the field.

  I recoiled again, sucking in my breath, for I didn’t need the Elder to tell me who it was that I was staring at.

  The golden banners of the Sun Elves flew high above their golden helms. The battle formation of the enemy was a tight line of golden longshields.

  “The Sun Elves!” I gasped. “I thought we would be fighting Blue Elves?” I couldn’t hide the fear that laced my tone. “Don’t the Sun Elves always send the natives into battle first?”

  It had always been the way of the Father of the Sun, to send first his Blue Elf warriors who fell subject to his rule here on this island. The fact that we were about to face the Sun Elf force of the Father, meant that we were all in for a gruesome afternoon that would most likely collect a death toll unimaginable.

  “Not this time,” the Elder said, a response I was most afraid of.

  The Sun Elves were notoriously known for their skill in battle and were as disciplined as we crescents were. However, they were conditioned by many more years on this earth, given that their immortality allowed them to last throughout the ages, making them impervious to aging. It wouldn’t surprise me to find that amidst that army awaiting our charge, were Sun Elves who had fought the Brave.

  I suddenly paled as the brunt of a new reality crashed into my awareness and I practically blurted out,

  “Is the Son of the Father down there?”

  He only smiled. “Yes,” the Elder answered, pleased. “Wherever the Father goes, so does the Son. And both are waiting for you.”

  “Me?” I frowned, my heart dropping to my knees, a wave of nausea now very suddenly washing over me. “Why?” I asked.

  The Elder didn’t offer me clarity, instead he merely emitted a mild chuckle of amusement and strode away, making his slow and casual descent down the slope to join his army. Once I found my diminishing courage I followed.

  When I arrived, I was not sure where I was meant to stand but I headed towards the front line none the less. With great panic, I requested a longblade from the crescents I passed. All of them ignored me. None even acknowledged me. It was as if they hadn’t heard me to begin with.

  I arrived at the front and never in my entire life had I felt more exposed, more vulnerable. All that stood between me and the vast army ahead was open air and I had no
weapon. I looked over at the Elder, who stood before his army. Although I was comforted that he too stood at the front line, I couldn’t help but begin to tremble as he began waving in the air above his head, his famous Veilnar-forged longblade, Flame.

  I heard the Elder laugh bawdily while I fought the tears forming in my eyes. My sight was glued to the quiet and still Sun Elf line in the distance. I wanted to be anywhere else but here and a part of me reasoned that I hadn’t even been trained to be a crescent, that this was all a lie… but somehow the words stuck in my throat, unable to come out while my body began to shake in overwhelming fear like some feeble leaf caught up in a storm!

  Everything seemed to have slowed down when the Elder signalled for us all to charge. Tears fell from my eyes.

  “I don’t have a longblade!” I cried, forced to run with the army. “I don’t have a longblade!”

  Our speed was incredible. In moments, we crashed against enemy shields and all I could do was swing my fists to no avail. The Sun Elves hardly paid me any mind. I could see through their helms that they all held the same concentrated and inscrutable expression and it made me quiver.

  “What are you doing?” shouted a voice.

  I looked over and amidst the chaos that was surging, the Elder came straight to me with such belligerence that this time I did shrink back. His long strides got to me quickly and before I knew it, he had me hoisted in the air.

  Through clenched teeth he cursed me. “Fight, you fool!” he said, throwing me down hard on the ground.

  I watched him turn from me and immediately begin cutting through multiple Sun warriors as if they were sheets of paper. He was taller than any of them by more than a head and to my eyes, he just grew taller, broader and fiercer, towering over his enemies while his hard and booming voice cursed with every swing of his blade.

  “Crescent!”

  I got up onto my feet and I saw one of my fellow warriors rush to me, shaking his head. He handed me a longblade.

  “Only a fool goes into battle without a weapon!”

  I hadn’t time to thank him, for once I had the longblade in hand he immediately plunged himself into the fighting.

  Marvelling at the weapon I had just received, feeling empowered with renewed courage, I did as all the crescents around me were doing; I set my sight on an enemy and I drove my blade into him.

  It was on the summit of a great hill that I stood amidst exalted company. I stood between the Elder and a fellow warrior; on the other side of the Elder stood his heir, the Crowned Son of Alepion.

  They were discussing the recent battle that had taken place within the valley below. But while I listened, the frown on my face started to deepen, for judging by what they were saying, either I was deluded or the two of them were horribly misguided - misinformed to the next degree.

  “An easy win,” stated the Crowned Son of Alepion. “But Father, your army still suffered losses.”

  The Elder of Alepion scoffed at his son. His arms were folded against the afternoon breeze, his stare locked onto the glorious horizon ahead.

  “Minor losses,” he replied. “I eradicated the Father’s Blue Elf army. Now, the Father will have no choice but to face me with his full Sun Elf force.”

  “Blue Elf army?” I interrupted, shaking my head, incredulous. I was unable to stay silent anymore.

  The Elder regarded me. “What is it, crescent?” he said, in a tone that held an edge of annoyance.

  “M-m-m-my Elder,” I stuttered, trying to find my footing. “We d-d-d-did not defeat the Blue Elves. We defeated the Sun Elves.” Saying it, however, I found myself doubting - who was I to question the Elder? He was a seasoned warrior and, so far, an excellent battle commander who we all respected and trusted, for warfare was his art and according to the Headlines, more his art than governing his Realm.

  “It was a trick, you see, crescent.”

  I regarded the elf who stood on my left, the one who had now entered the discussion at hand. I had known that the elf was there though until now, was unaware of who exactly he was. I was taken aback when at last I looked at him - for I saw that he was a Sun Elf, was tall and lean, his posture declaring a rare dignity that not even the Elder could match. His hair was long and straight, white like fresh snow and his eyes were narrow, pale and extremely unsettling.

  “The Father of the Sun wanted to trick you,” the elf said. He then jerked his head towards the battlefield behind us. “Those dead elves down there are Blue Elves. They were not the Sun Elf force of the Father.”

  “Exactly,” came the Elder, looking forward again. “The Son of the Father is correct. It was all a trick.” The Elder regarded me again, “the Father knew how easy it would be to trick you, crescent.”

  I shut my eyes in confusion, shaking my head. “What?” I said, feeling dazed suddenly by the unfathomable verbal exchange that I had just now participated in. “Why would the Father of the Sun want to trick only me?” I looked at the Elder, then to the elf next to me. “And why is the Son of the Father here?” I looked again to the Elder, imploringly. “This is the Father’s heir!” I cried. “This is the one who killed the Brave!”

  “I did kill the Brave,” confessed the Son.

  I turned to regard him. “I know! We all know! Our people have hated you ever since!” The hate came through in my voice. It was hard to suppress it.

  “No, they haven’t,” said the Elder, mockingly, almost laughing.

  “No, they haven’t,” the Son agreed, his voice more measured.

  I was at a loss for words, my mouth gaping like some lost fool, “I ---”

  The Son moved offered a reassuring hand. He placed it on my shoulder and told me, as if we held some long-standing friendship, that,

  “The Brave deserved it, crescent. You must understand - I didn’t want to kill him. But he and his armies were threatening to take the islands from my father. It had to be done. He had to die.”

  Without the words to respond, I glanced at my Elder, appealing to him silently to say something when I noticed the Crowned Son of Alepion lean forward to offer me a patronising look that, in my mind, didn’t suit him. He was his father’s son; possessing his father’s build and his father’s height, not to mention the powerfully proportioned face that told all who looked at him that he was not one to be taken lightly. Displaying himself in such a manner was beneath him.

  “Why can our entire race understand what the Son of the Father had to do,” said the Crowned Son, “but not you?”

  Once again, I was completely at a loss for words. I looked forward, still gaping while trying to grasp what was happening here. I couldn’t. I couldn’t understand! I just shook my head in frustration, crying,

  “No! The Brave fought to give the Middle Islands to the Moon! Our people could never be at peace with the fact that he failed – the fact that the Son killed him!”

  Again, the Son of the Father rested a reassuring hand on my shoulder and in his touch I felt a chill. He was my enemy. Why was the Elder humouring him then? Why was the Son even with us right now?

  “All but you have forgiven me for the death of that elder. At last they have finally understood that I did nothing wrong.” The Son took back his hand and drew himself up. “I am a Highborn after all, crescent. And so, who can accuse me of wrong?”

  I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. I glanced at the Elder once more, hoping he was listening to this eccentric discussion and that he understood the depths of its absurdity. However, all I saw was a profile made of stone. The Elder stood, brooding at the horizon, arms still folded over his broad chest. Meanwhile, his son continued to study me so condescendingly that it was hard not to wonder if he and the Son were right, and that I was losing my mind slightly.

  “I understand that you’re one of the Highborn,” I heard myself say. “And that the Highborn are our enemy! This island once belonged to the Moon! The second Golden Elder conquered it. As he conquered the other Middle Islands.”

  “Then why are we here, if this
island belongs to the Moon, crescent?” asked the Son, his tone as patronising as the look of the Crowned Son of Alepion.

  I glanced at him, offended at how mocking he sounded. “The Last Golden Elder lost this island to you and your father!” I reminded him. “But it was ours! The Elder is here to take it back! To take it back from you!”

  Behind me, the Elder chuckled, as did his heir. As for the Son of the Father, a smile took form on his face and I was beginning to get a lot angrier because of it. Impulsively, I drew my longblade, wanting to drive it through that smug look - for indeed he was my enemy! Second only to the Father of the Sun; the greatest enemy of the Moon.

  Behind me, the Elder grabbed my wrist suddenly and twisted my arm at my back, forcing me to drop my blade as I cried out in pain.

  “You do not threaten a Highborn in my presence, crescent,” says the Elder.

  “If the Father of the Sun hears of this, your life will be forfeited,” added the Son. I saw him look up to address the Elder. “Shall I escort him to detention?” That was when the Elder let me go, shoving me forward.

  “Take him. And never let me lay eyes on him again!”

  Far out in the distance, flying above the horizon against a colourful sky splashed with glorious orange and red, flew a couple of frolicking lagones; great and terrible creature of the skies. According to legend, they were the fiercest creatures in the world; winged and leathery and that they could breathe lightning. Apparently, some grew so large that they could swallow a person whole.

  Presently, I scoffed at such a ridiculous myth, for though tales were told of lagones and their vicious reign across the skies, none had ever once been spotted in Alepion. None. Their existence was speculated upon only from rumour sprouted by those who claimed to have seen one when venturing into the Stranger world.

  As if any elf would want to do such a thing, I thought now, shaking my head in pure scepticism.