The Dark Lord of Oklahoma

by Ethan Richards

  "It is no coincidence they are in Ponca City," said Chance. "She has had dreams of this moment her entire life. Horrible images of black and white."

  Seth's face became more concerned as Chance's words were spoken.

  "The enemy is here," said Seth. "Elena should remember those images, and there is another image. Of a man clad in black picking her up from the burnt rubble that used to be her house. Chance, we did not just watch her because she was an elf. I watched over her because she was the last of the Elvinmeyer clan. A wise clan, different from even the other elves. The elves that migrated to this world tended to be brash, more warlike than those of the Old World. The Elvinmeyer, just like Elden’s medic had now, had called for peace. They did not want the endless bloodshed of orcs," Seth grew silent. "And in gratitude for their efforts, they were killed by the people who had worked to save them."

  Seth crossed his arms and walked away with his eyes downward.

  "The Witch-Queen, she has found some way to possess this poor child's body -"

  "I don't consider Sasha Ferrell a poor child," said Chance.

  "Shut up, kid," said Seth. "If you were my age, you would see it that way. I'm not saying she's not dangerous. Sasha may have been a bad apple, but she is not the queen. She is the lieutenant. She was under our nose the entire time," said Seth and slammed his fist against his quadriceps.

  "The Witch-Queen was - is - dangerous. She sent orc assassins to kill the Elvinmeyer clan to ensure the orcs were in constant war with men and elves. She is strategic in her actions; she is able to be clandestine when she wishes. But, don't kid yourself, the Witch-Queen loves chaos. She enjoys pain, and now those two things have come together. Strategy and chaos. And she wishes to bring them here, to Ponca City, Oklahoma."

  CHAPTER 11: RECONAISSANCE

  Chance - Ponca City, Ok

  "We need to start planning," said Chance.

  "No, we need to get out there and see what is going on. We need to do some recon," said Asher.

  "How are we going to do recon? I look…I," started Chance, "my appearance is not too pleasant, and you are Oklahoma's public enemy number one."

  "We'll kick out the logisticians and comms guy," said Asher.

  "But we need them doing their job. Just like you taught me, loggies are just as important to the fight as we are. If we take them away from support, then operations can't talk, eat, or shoot."

  Gritting his teeth, Asher looked up at Chance and shook his head. "I hate having my own words used against me. Alright, then how do we crack this nut?"

  Dorin stood beside Asher and started emphatically tapping him on the shoulder. Then he began to make signs with his hands.

  "I don't have time for charades."

  "Maybe you should stop running your suck and listen to him."

  All three heads turned to the voice. There was Zorin, arms crossed, looking at Asher.

  "You guys know your tech, Zorin, I'll give ya that. But what do you know about planning?" asked Asher.

  "He said you can do both," said Zorin, his steel glaze at Asher not softening.

  "Both what?" asked Chance.

  "You can plan and do reconnaissance at the same time," said Zorin. "We may not know much about planning, but we know our job. We know our trade, and we know when to step in."

  "So what are you saying?" asked Asher.

  "About how you are going to hide your scouts," said Zorin, "we have a way of getting around without people taking notice. And you can do your planning while you're driving around."

  "People not taking notice of you? You stick out like a sore thumb that's been severed and stuck in a hotdog."

  "That's very specific," said Chance.

  "Yeah, well, that movie hasn't been put in the public domain yet, so I can't say the name, lest we are sued," said Asher, "but how are we just going to drive around town without being seen?"

  Dorin vigorously shook his head before staring at his brother.

  "Has dwarfish engineering ever let you down?"

  Cries-For-War gritted his teeth. "Alright, we are going to do it your way, Zorin. But please, tell me, how are you going to go around Ponca City under the radar?"

  "Come with me," said Zorin.

  ***

  "Do you really think this is going to go unnoticed?" asked Greenoak.

  "Yes, it will, elf," said Zorin.

  "This?" asked Evan Greenoak. "You don't think anyone isn't going to notice this?"

  "You mean an up-armored trash truck? Nah, I don't think it draws any attention," said Greenoak condescendingly.

  From the outside, it looked like an ordinary trash truck. It was a green, rear-loader trash truck. But as they had stepped forward to observe it, Zorin had pressed a button. The first hydraulic paddle opened. It exposed the back of the truck. There was no garbage, not even the faint smell of it. Instead, there was a bench with brass racks of brass colored metal, where fighters could store their weapons. There was another bench, a leather-covered one with a safety belt. This one looked like it belonged on a 30s era truck.

  "I have been bested -" started Asher, but he was interrupted.

  Dorin poked his head out from the top of the body of the truck. There was a hatch towards the frame with a turret at the top. The silent dwarf hit another button. Steam rose from the truck.

  "What the heck -" started Asher.

  A Gatling gun rose from the steam.

  "We drove this all over Payne County, and then all the way up here," said Zorin. "Yeah, Greenoak, we can go without being seen. Invisibility is not unique to the elves."

  A ramp of metal sheet shot out and then slammed against the garage floor. At the top of the ramp was fabric attached which reduced the sound of the impact of the slope against the floor.

  "You ready to load up?" asked Zorin.

  "Let's load up," said Asher, and the group began to walk up the ramp.

  Dorin went beneath the turret and then brought the Gailtin gun back down.

  The silent dwarf grabbed a crank and began to roll it up. As he worked on it, the ramp started to move back up and inside the vehicle. Zorin pulled a brass lever, the back door slammed shut.

  "Did you steal that off the US Cutter Harriet Lane?" asked Greenoak.

  "You know, if you met up with our tech guys," said Chance, "we could put a flat screen right in the front where all those riding in the vehicle could watch the screen."

  "You could do that?" asked Zorin.

  "Without a doubt," said Chance.

  "Dwarves and up-to-date technology," said Zorin. "That would be different, but I think it might actually be good."

  "The benefits of trade," said Chance.

  "There have only been a few times I've been bested," said Asher, "and dadgummit, Zorin, this is one of them!"

  "If I am perfectly honest," said Zorin, "I know the technical stuff, but the fighting stuff, I don't know. But I do know firepower. But, what are we looking for now?"

  "Something that would provide cover for a big fight, but something recognizable that would make a statement," said Chance.

  "Something recognizable?" asked Zorin.

  "Recognizable, as in it will stand out in people’s minds," said Chance. "But I'm sure something physically recognizable makes sense too."

  "That is the weirdest thing I have ever seen," said Sam.

  "Why are you interrupting me kid?" asked Chance.

  "No, I mean look at him,' said Sam.

  Dorin stood in the open area. The dwarf had both hands on the periscope and turned the device from left to right as he scanned Ponca City.

  "Tell me Chance, what are we looking for?" asked Sam.

  "Dorin, did you find something?" asked Chance.

  Dorin was so focused on what he observed that he did not answer. He pulled his head back from the vessel, his face lit up with animation and then put his eyes back into the scope.

  "We are looking for something defendable," said Chance.

  Through the scope, along a beautiful wall com
posed of limestone paralleled Monument Road. "But in addition to being something they can fight from, it has to be something beautiful. A location that grabs someone by the heart, to illustrate their cause."

  They continued on Monument Road. From the wall, they came up to beautiful, handcrafted walls that were wooden and blocked the entrance.

  "Unconventional warfare and conventional warfare sometimes merge. While this is a statement, this is also about Elden Orkenkind making his final stand. We will see concertina wire, military obstacles set up to let the world know that he means business."

  Dorin adjusted the site. There on the wooden walls on the Marland Mansion was barb wire.

  "Ah, and visibility. Orkenkind needs visibility for both the defenders and the outside world. That is what that old fox needs."

  Above the wooden walls were beautiful columns that overlooked the castle's guarded entrance.

  The silent dwarf pulled his head back from the device and looked straight at Chance.

  The orc stock-broker stared back at him, and his eyes lit up.

  "Oh, no, no, no," said Chance.

  "What's the matter?" asked Sam.

  "He is smart. He is wise," said Chance, "and they beat us to it."

  "Beat us to what? What did they beat us to?"

  "The Mansion," said Chance.

  "The Mansion?" asked Sam.

  "The Marland Mansion?" asked Cries-For-War. "Not the mansion!"

  "Yes, the mansion," said Chance. "The Marland Mansion. They have it, and now we have an uphill battle against a solid object defended by an orc military genius."

  CHAPTER 12: THE MARLAND MANSION

  Chance - Ponca City, Ok

  Chance crawled towards the Marland Mansion. Before their fight, Asher had laughed and called it his "second puberty," and in many ways it was. His body felt disjointed and awkward. Feeling more disoriented when he stood up straight, Chance had begun to hunch over. With great ease, he crawled like an animal towards the vast North American castle. Tears welled in his eyes as he scampered ahead, with movements similar to those of a chimpanzee or gorilla. The former stock-broker stopped crawling and looked down at his long, green fingers. He touched his elongated, muscular forearms. Despite the darkness, he could see around him and his arms as he inspected them.

  "This disease grows more and more curious," he spoke to himself. "And it is not without its benefits.”

  He approached the southern wall of the Marland Mansion and gripped it with his firm, lean fingers. He climbed over it and threw himself over the top before dropping down. He hit his feet, and then rolled to his side, ensuring his paratrooper skills in falling did not go to waste.

  A soft but stern voice called out to him.

  From Chance’s experience speaking with Ziles he understood some of the words, and he turned his head to the sound.

  The voice whispered back, and Chance fought hard not to laugh. It was an oxymoron, but that’s what it was, it was a yelling whisper. A yelling whisper was something he had seen so many times while training; something someone did when they were frustrated or needed to convey a message desperately, but for tactical reasons could not increase the volume of their voice.

  Now, an orc ran towards him and pulled from a load-bearing vest a sizeable black blade.

  Chance started to reach for his weapon.

  "Stop!" the orc cried in English. "Do not reach for that weapon."

  "But "

  "Shut up," said the orc, "I know what is going on here."

  Chance green eyes bulged from his sockets.

  "Ragnog has sent reinforcements. And in typical Ragnog fashion, it is a completely uncoordinated event, untrained and unrehearsed, and," the orc stepped forward inspecting Chance’s equipment, "not the brightest tool in the shed."

  "At least," said Chance, pointing towards the AK47 that slung from his bareback, "at least I'm not fighting with tools."

  The orc stopped his inspection and visibly relaxed his face muscles, as he looked at the assault rifle. He brought his face forward and reached for the weapon. "I know what type of thieving Elden's band does," Chance pushed the orc back.

  "Speak foul of my master again, and I shall surpass even Ragnog's barbarism"

  "What?" asked Chance, shaking his head, "where did you learn to speak like that?"

  "They are called books, Ragnog," said the orc. "Now get inside. The Sons will be on the wall and the Ragnog band will be inside."

  Chance nodded his head, ensuring that his smile was not visible to the orc. Chance then turned and began to crawl towards the Marland Mansion.

  "Stop!"

  Chance turned around, and he could see the Son coming towards him. If he had to fight Elden’s orc, he knew he could not reach his AK47, so he felt for the hidden blade in the back of his pants.

  "I knew there was something particular about you," said the orc and he reached out and grabbed Chance's kit.

  Freeborne's hand went behind him, and he grabbed the hilt of his knife.

  "What is this?" asked the orc.

  Looking down at his equipment, Chance saw it. There conspicuously placed on his gear was a yellow, smiley face.

  "You know, you might not be half bad. My leader will appreciate this."

  Chance nervously laughed.

  Can’t wait to see him,” his voice was coarse.

  The Son took one final inspection of Chance and then went back to the wall. Chance cried out.

  "You alright?" asked the Son.

  "Yeah, my head. Landed on it, back over there,” lied Chance, pointing to the wall he had just climbed over.

  "Well, nice pin," said the orc. "Now go!"

  Chance turned and quickly moved forward. As he did, he touched his ear and winced.

  "You know my ears are a lot more sensitive," whispered Chance.

  A voice buzzed into the hearing aid that was shoved deep into his ear.

  "Hahahaha!" screamed Byron in excitement as he watched the events unfold on the flat screen that had been put up in the garbage truck. "We are in! Great job, baby!"

  In addition to the hearing aid, Byron had placed a small camera behind the smiley-face pin.

  Asher screamed in excitement as well, and Chance yelped at the pain in his ear. The retired First Sergeant slapped a loud high-five with Byron.

  "There is no time wasted on recon!" exclaimed Asher.

  CHAPTER 13: THE NORTH SALON

  Novatorio - Ponca City, Ok

  Reporter: How did it all start?

  Marion Novatori: It's all a blur. I remember my quartet going to the Marland Mansion, like we had about eight times now. We had grown very comfortable with each other. We knew the music, same old stuff - Canon D, Jesu Joy of Man’s Desire, but it was when we came together as a group that is what made the performance fun. We have all been getting ready for college and grown up in the last year. You could see our maturity in the way we came together. We could take cues from each other. Our musicality as a group had really grown, and because of it, we had grown too. I felt more mature because of what we did. But then, our cello player reverted to middle school.

  [Marion laughs]

  Reporter: Reverted back to middle school? What does that mean?

  Marion: It's really not funny. I am laughing more out of nervousness, than at my friend's immaturity. I looked over at our cello player, and his tongue was hanging out of his mouth. Literally hanging out. I felt angered by his stupidity. Instantly my mind snapped back to those old cartoons, where the guys go to see the singer, and they turn into wolves, and their hearts beat out of their chest. He looked like a fool gawking.

  Reporter: Why was he gawking?

  Marion: He was gawking at her!

  [Marion sniffles, cries heard on tape]

  Reporter: Take your time.

  Marion: Thank you. [More sniffles] I am sorry.

  Marion: The woman who seemed to be in charge. I saw her, and I felt...I am embarrassed to say…I thought I was smarter than this, but I felt a very caddy feeli
ng. I felt hatred and jealousy. And I felt that way because of how my friend acted. Her hair was almost white, and she was so thin, almost anorexic. The woman’s skin was almost white as her hairs. She was weird. She wore this long red overcoat, and it was warm inside the mansion.