by Clark Graham
“To the coast. The Chancellor is sending all of the wounded, the old, the women and children back to Elvenshore until this war is over one way or another.”
“Elvenshore! I do not want to go to Elvenshore,” protested Fannor. Going back would be like admitting that their move to the Far Shore was a failure.
“You are lucky to be alive. I would guess that in your condition it will not matter where you are. It will take you a long time to heal, and you will never be the same,” Gilead explained.
It was then that Fannor noticed that Gilead’s arm was in a sling, “Where is the rest of the Cavalry? Who is in command?”
Gilead said sadly, “There is no Calvary; those few horsemen that survived are now being used as messengers by the army. The rest of us are dead or on our way to Elvenshore.”
“Two hundred men, there were two hundred of us!” exclaimed Fannor. He had trained those men since they were young, and now they were gone.
“Yes, and there were only five of the enemy. That did not matter, they destroyed us anyway. Last night we were expecting an attack on Morgus Tier but they contented themselves with destroying Vil Athid instead. Men, women and children; it didn’t matter, they killed them. The survivors are with us now; they are all retreating to the coast.”
“And then to Elvenshore,” Fannor said sadly.
“We do not even know who rules Elvenshore. It was a near thing with the Minotaur and the Gremlins. They almost defeated all of the armies of the Humans and the Elves. They may be in charge now.”
“We will know the answer to that when we see if the banners of South Fort still fly,” came Gilead’s answer. “If the Humans are still in charge, we are to ask them for help, and maybe even the Dwarves.”
“I think the Dwarves would take much delight in finding out our current predicament. We were not the best of friends at any time during our history,” Fannor replied. Just then the wagon hit a rock and pain shot through his broken bones.
Grand Chancellor Lanor stood in front of the map and contemplated. “We need to evacuate Vil Falcress.”
Mauric, his counselor said, “It is already happening, they are headed to the swampland in hopes the Humans will take them in.”
“They should be evacuated this direction,” Lanor said, "We do not want the Humans to be burdened with our problems."
“They have to go through Morgus Tier to get here, but it is expecting an attack at any moment. Hopefully there is a place for them in the swampland.”
The Chancellor shook his head. He had a heavy heart and blamed himself for all of the death and destruction that the Elves were going through. “I have let my people get destroyed. I will resign as Chancellor.” He then slowly walked off.
Armurous looked out from the watchtower of Morgus Tier as the Vil Falcress burned, off in the distance. His warriors manned the battlements. The town’s non-combatants had been evacuated the day before. He had expected an attack at any time but the Trolls seemed to contend themselves with destroying the outlying towns and villages first. He had five hundred regular troops and two hundred reserve troops, but he still feared what lay ahead as he had seen the powerful Elf Calvary decimated in only a few hours. When he then heard someone coming up the ladder he looked down to see his under commander Bellios step up and onto the watchtower lookout.
“Greetings, Commander,” Bellios said.
“Did the people make it out of Vil Falcress?” Armurous asked. He was concerned after what he had seen at Vil Athid.
“They left, but they will still be on the road this night. They are traveling day and night but they will not be at the swamplands before two days is out. I will send a rider in the morning to see how they fare.”
“I mocked the Grand Chancellor in my heart when he sent us here and called up the reserve. Now I wish that he had done all that days earlier,” Armurous sighed.
“We could not have even imagined in our wildest nightmares the horror of these days. You were right in obeying orders no matter how insane they seemed to you at the time,” Bellios replied.
“There is no more outlying village in front of us, so it will be our turn next,” commented Armurous. He looked around the town and then at the walls and wondered what it would look like in a few days. Would it still be here or completely destroyed?
“We can prevail if the walls hold,” Bellios replied.
“I hope you are right, but just in case, bring me the Chancellors’ son Soric.”
“Yes, Commander,” Bellios said and then he headed down the ladder.
Soric was a reservist at Morgus Tier. When they called the reserve up he was already in the town.
When he reported to Armurous, the Commander looked him in the eye, “I want you to find out what happened to the people of Vil Falcress. Do not come back here to report, but go straight to the Capital after you complete you orders.”
“Yes, Sir,” Soric said and then he left to go get a horse.
Armurous came down from the watchtower and went to get some sleep, as he knew he would need all the sleep he could get for the days ahead.
It wasn’t long before he was awakened by one of the watchtower guards, “Sir, Chancellor Lanor was seen riding a horse. When he passed here he was riding at full gallop. He turned at the crossroads and headed for Vil Falcress.”
Armurous climbed out of bed and ran to the watchtower. Bellios was already up there.
“Is there any use trying to catch up with him?” Armurous asked.
“No, he was moving too fast,” Bellios replied.
Armurous could only shake his head in dismay.
A Meeting of Sticks
The women of Bon Lathan were more than happy to show all of the other clans how to prepare sea food. When the clans had first arrived in the swampland, with the other survivor of the war with the monsters, all of the clans, including Lathan, had no idea how to cook fish. This time around, they had stayed in the swampland when all of the other clans left, clan Lathan had learned a lot of how to prepare fish in many diverse ways, which fish was good to eat and which fish not to eat. There were also root vegetables that only grew in the swampland to be had and a few animals that could be killed for food.
Clan Lathan didn’t raise cows and sheep, but they did raise small things, like rabbits and chickens. There were not nearly enough of those things to go around and the few cows and sheep that were brought along during the flight of the clans were not going to last long. There was talk of going to some of the nearby villages to get some of the livestock that was left behind, but no one was organizing it or calling for volunteers.
Already other problems were arising in the overcrowded conditions. It was all too clear that a Meeting of Sticks was going to be needed.
Never, in the history of the motherland, had so many clan elders met before. The group was so large that it had to be convened in a clearing just east of Bon Lathan. The elders piled up their walking sticks as they entered the clearing and went to sit down with the other elders of their clans. It was up to clan Lathan to lead the meeting since it was their village where the meeting was taking place.
When everyone had sat down, an elder from clan Lathan, Petrad Lathan, got up and spoke, “We have several issues that we must talk about, but first there is news from the war that Narwig of clan Jul has found out.”
Narwig stood up, “The war goes badly for the Elves. The Cavalry has been decimated on Mount Ealdwine, Vil Athid has been destroyed along with the village that was built on the mountain. The Elves of Vil Falcress have abandoned their village and are heading here, in hopes that we will take them in.”
There was a great murmur among the elders at that last statement. Petrad got up and held up his arms to regain the control of the crowd, “We need to decide where to put the Elves when they get here.”
“Send them back! We don’t have room or food for them,” yelled an elder from clan Regaulis. There was sporadic agreement amount a small minority of the elders.
“This is not an option,” Darnic sai
d as he stood up, “They are a good race and have helped out many of us in the past. We cannot stand by and watch them get slaughtered, while we sit here in the safety of the swampland, and not at the very least take some of them in for protection.”
Most of the elders shouted their approval.
Narwig stood back up, “Where shall we put them?”
“How about in this clearing? A lot of us had tents that we brought with us. We can pitch all the tents here in the clearing and give them shelter at least temporarily,” Darnic said.
An elder from clan Garle asked, “We can’t have them here. What if we need to have another meeting?” He was shouted down by most of the other elders.
“What about food? We will be in bad shape if this war lasts a long time,” protested the elder from clan Regaulis.
“The elves don’t eat the same foods we eat normally, beside I think we should ask for volunteers to go and round up some livestock from Bon Jul, Bon Tewl and Bon Garle. That would help greatly with the food supply,” Darnic suggested.
“One thing at a time,” Petrad said, “all in favor of setting up tents in this clearing for the Elves, raise your hands.”
The vast majority approved the motion.
“Now, as for the matter of asking for volunteers to round up livestock from the nearby villages raise your hands.” That motion passed also.
An Narwig Jul stood up, “Our young men want to take up arms and go fight side by side with the Elves instead of sit here and watch them get slaughtered.”
Darnic’s heart dropped. He had hoped that this subject would not come up.
The elder from Regaulis said, “No young men from clan Regaulis will participate in this endeavor.”
A clan Kartan elder said, “We will strongly discourage any of our young men to participate, but if it is the will of this meeting to do so, we will ask for volunteers.”
Petrad got up and spoke, “Clan Lathan will ask for volunteers.”
The other clans agreed with Petrad. When Darnic rose he said, “You will need an elder to lead this group. I will volunteer for that position, but I will not do anything rash. Our first duty will be to get the Elves of Vil Falcress here safely and then we will round up the cattle and other livestock from the nearby villages and bring them here. It will be plain at that point forward, what the situation is with the Elves and then we will help in any way we can.”
Petrad got up and said, “All in favor of asking for volunteers to go back across the bridges to do the missions that Darnic has laid out, raise your hands.”
It was a clear majority in favor.
It was Darnic’s only way of delaying the young men to give them other missions to do besides fighting an impossible war. The clans had learned too late how to battle the beasts. By the time they learned, they had lost too many of the men. Now there only hope was the lessons learned long ago. There were only five of the original warriors left. Fritred was too fat, the other three were going blind, or were too feeble to lead an army. So Darnic knew it was going to fall on him. Might was well volunteer if you are going to get selected anyway, he mused.
After discussing a few more minor items, the Meeting of Sticks adjourned.
Vil Falcress
When the news of the defeat of the Elf Calvary reached the village of Vil Falcress, the people started packing and loading their wagons. They were anxious that the Trolls would come their way next.
They had seen long lines of the Human clans moving toward the swampland. Some of the villagers had wanted to try and make it to the seashore, but that would take them right past the mountain, so the majority decided to make for the swampland in hopes that the Humans would take them in. It was an eerie sight to ride through the deserted village of Bon Jul that first night. There were no lights, no fires and no sounds. They would travel day and night without stopping.
On the second night they could see their village burning in the distance behind them. With broken hearts they continued on. Then later on that night they heard heavy footsteps behind them. They turned to see that the Trolls were after them. The men stayed behind to delay the enemy while the women reined the horses and sped as fast as they could down the road. When they went through Bon Garle it was the same thing. Then they arrived at the muddy flats, the road will still torn up and the horses were not making very much headway.
Darnic had been able to arm and find horses for all of his volunteers. He took his sword back from his son, but was able to talk Fritred out of his old sword for Aron to use. He even had the young men from clan Regalus volunteer. When the young men from that clan saw that the other clans were going to war, they debated with the elders. In the end the elders relented and let them go. Darnic now had one hundred and twenty young men under his command. None were trained and he was the only one that had ever seen war. But they were young, healthy and eager. They rode out across the bridge towards Vil Falcress in the early afternoon. Bon Garle was still in front of them when they came across the Elf women and children. They had been slowed down by the mud and not making good time.
One of the Elf women was panicking, “They are coming, they are coming,” she screamed over and over again. The group reassured them that the Humans were there to help.
Darnic took his forces past the wagons in an effort to slow the monsters down and have the women make good their escape.
When they were clear of the women Darnic commanded, “Dismount. A rider on a horse just gives them a better target. When they swing at you, duck down as their clubs don’t come all the way to the ground. Their feet are there weak spot. The skin is too thick on the rest of the body for you to hurt it, but the skin on the feet is very thin. The feet are also extra sensitive, so duck their clubs and rush forward to attack their feet. You cannot hope to kill any of them, but if you can hurt their feet badly enough, they will not make it back to the mountain in time for the rising of the sun and they will turn to stone.”
The men dismounted and readied their weapons. Each one fighting their own anxiety.
Darnic looked at the men gathering in groups. “Spread out, do not allow them to hit more than one of you at a time. You must be several feet away from the man next to you,” he commanded.
The men spread out. When the Trolls crested the hill and looked down at the group of men the Trolls stopped. It was the first time these young men had seen the monsters and several of them started backing up. No one could describe the horror of seeing these beasts for the first time. As bad as they had been described, seeing one was a whole different story. All of the men’s courage faltered.
“Hold your ground,” Darnic yelled, “A man running away will make the best target for their clubs as the runner won’t see it coming.”
The men stopped backing up and were waiting for the monster’s next moves. To the surprise of everyone, the monsters turned and headed back towards the mountains.
“Sheath your weapons, they will not be back this night,” Darnic said. He was greatly relived at the turn of events. He had held out no hope for success against the beasts.
The men rode back to help the Elves.They helped the Elf women get the wagons pulled out of the mud and the women continued on. All of them were asking about the men. When the women were safely on their way Darnic turned back around and went to see what happened to the Elf men. Ten miles down the road, the question was answered. There were bodies on both sides of the road, all dead. They had been crushed and thrown around like discarded toys by the blows of the clubs. Darnic looked at the destruction with a heavy heart. He had seen it all before and it was bringing back bad memories. He had found his father and brother sprawled out and dead, like the Elves were now. The men watched Vil Falcress burn in the distance.
“Bury them,” Darnic ordered.
It was late afternoon before all of the Elves were buried.
Aron came up to Darnic and in a low tone asked, “How can we defeat these monsters if we can only hurt their feet?”
Darnic looked at him seriously.
“We cannot defeat these monsters.”
After the burial, the group rode to Bon Garle and were shocked to see that the village was still there. The monsters had walked straight through the town without damaging a single building.
“This does not make any sense to me,” Darnic said.
“Maybe they were pursuing the Elves so fast that they didn’t have time to destroy the town,” Aron suggested.
“Maybe,” Darnic said, but he knew it went against all behaviors of the beasts from the previous encounters.
That afternoon Darnic allowed his band of warriors to rest at Bon Garle. “We will rest in the afternoons and move at night,” he told them. “Our task for tomorrow will be to get the livestock from Bon Garle back to the swampland safely, so we will divide into two groups, one to herd livestock and the other to patrol for the enemy. If we are attacked, we will spread out in all directions and leave the livestock. It is more important that you make it back alive than the sheep and cows.”
The Battle of Morgus Tier
As Soric rode out of Morgus Tier on his way to Vil Falcress, he could see the fires of the village from a long way off. He slowed down as he arrived there. All the buildings were fully engulfed in flame. He could see the shadows of the Trolls as they left the town and moved down the road, in the direction of the retreating townspeople. When he looked to his left, he could see another horseman riding at full speed towards the enemy. He could not see a face, but he recognized the robes of the Grand Chancellor.
“Father,” Soric yelled as he spurred his horse forward, trying to stop him. The two of them were riding forward when one of the Trolls noticed them. The Troll turned and took a few steps in their direction. With two swings of its massive club, both of the riders and their horses were dead.
The men of Armurous were manning the battlements of Morgus Tier as evening of yet another day was slipping into night. The commander knew that the attack would most likely come that night for the Trolls were running out of things to destroy. The villages that had burned to the ground had been unfortified and unprotected by troops. This was the first time the Trolls would come against a fortified town manned with regular warriors. Armurous had no illusion that things were going to go his way. The destruction of the Calvary had put a chill down the commander’s spine, but at least he had a better chance than on any of the villages had.
