The two warriors climbed into the practice pit and began casually stretching their limbs and warming up their stiff muscles. ‘So, Cameos, what troubles your sleep? Afraid you’ll never become even half the warrior of your tutor? You should take comfort in the fact that I’m second only to the sun itself’, Thakern said, playfully provoking the chief of the elves.
‘Do you ever wonder, Thakern, if I’m the right person to lead us? I am neither the best warrior nor the wisest amongst us. It is a truth that only my birth makes me chieftain.’ Cameos spoke regrettably as if those thoughts brought him shame...
‘In short, my friend, no’, replied Thakern. ‘Your blood holds the strength of us all, and when the time comes, your ancestors and the Mother will guide you to make whatever choices need be made. Now quit stalling and prepare to defend yourself.’
The two warriors faced up to each other, both standing with the same stance. Legs spaced apart at a distance that aligned their feet with their shoulders, toes on the front leg pointing towards their opponent, and the back foot angled to the side to provide stability. All mirth was now gone from their mouths and their eyes took on a hardened look of determination. Cameos approached Thakern with his chin tucked into his chest, eyes held high and his shoulders bought up to protect the line of his jaw. Hands held open, level with his face, forearms and biceps at an angel of forty-five degrees. He could feel the coolness of the ground on the balls of his feet, as he made ready to launch himself without thought.
Thakern watched patiently, his guard mirroring Cameos to the point of symmetry. The only sound now was the controlled breathing of the two circling warriors, each preparing to make or receive the first blow. Then without hesitation Cameos broke into action, throwing left then right hands in immediate succession aiming to catch Thakern’s eyes with the base of his palm, but once, then twice Thakern blocked the combinations with the back of his own hands and with unmatched speed grabbed Cameos head in a bear-like grip with a hand over each side of his jawline. Jumping with the speed of a leopard pouncing on unsuspecting prey, the Master of martial combat brought his right knee into the centre of Cameos rib cage, exploding the air from his lungs, and causing a quick cry of pain to leak from his lips.
Cameos stumbled backwards and tried to gain his composure, but Thakern remained unmerciful in his attack, taking three small steps and leaping six feet into the air, he brought his elbow down in a chopping motion on to the bridge of his opponent’s nose, shattering cartilage, and spraying a thick mixture of blood and mucus over Cameos own unconscious form. Thakern’s smile and cheerful disposition returned immediately as he stood over the prostrate form of the man he loved more than any of his kin. He glanced at the large sand timer in the gymnasium’s corner and focused his eyes on the lettering.
‘Twenty-six seconds, my chieftain, the best I’ve had all day.’
Cameos sat on the edge of the pool and touched his destroyed nose, wincing as he tried his best to realign the fragmented pieces. The bleeding had stopped within a few minutes of receiving the finishing blow. In a day or two there would be no sign of any injury, thanks to the regenerative healing power he and all his kind shared. Flesh flayed open to the bone would heal completely and without scaring, as long as it was still connected to the body. Broken bones, once set, would heal in days and in the worse cases a week. The ancient lore, spoken from the old to the young, stated that they were the only creatures in all the lands that Mother earth had blessed, with this gift. Cameos had always wondered if this could be true.
After he had regained his wits, he told his friend about the troubling dreams and the ill feeling he was experiencing. They sat in silence for some time, both contemplating the omens and meditating on the best course of action, when the young chieftain sensed a familiar and pleasant presence. So lost in thought was he, that neither Cameos nor Thakern had noticed Releaka approach and take a seat beside her mate.
She sat silently, looking at her love with an expression of open concern on her perfect face. She stood only two inches shorter than Cameos, with a slender body that seemed to glide more than stroll as she moved. Her long legs were shapely and extremely toned, even for one of her kind, and ended in hips that swayed as if by their own design. Her stomach was perfectly flat, leading to breasts far larger and shapelier than expected of one so slim and lithe. But her most striking attribute were eyes the colour of a cloudless sky, a sparkling blue exceedingly rare to her race, a feature she only shared with two other females and no other male.
Thakern, sensing a tender moment about to occur, made his leave and suggested to Cameos that they should meet when the moon was high in the sky, for some hunting and private council.
‘So, what troubles you enough to keep you from the comfort of our bed, my love? Or is getting handled by Thakern more appealing in the quiet times of day?’ Releaka said as she sat beside him, absently playing with his shoulder-length hair, which was tied back with beads in the common fashion, a habit she had picked up from their first night of courtship, at Cameos’ coming-of-age festival, when he had turned one hundred years of age, and she had maintained that habit whenever she was close to him.
He recounted his dreams but did not go into detail, not wanting to worry her more than necessary, since he had already decided that he would consult the Elders. He would go to the council chamber of the oldest and wisest members of his race and seek their wisdom.
He wished fervently that he still had his father’s hand to guide him. His parents had long since departed. His mother had been killed by a horde of the green-skinned flesh eaters that dwell in the jungles far off to the south. Never before had they come so far north into the desert in such numbers, and never again since. It was a tragedy felt by the entire race, but none had it harmed so deeply as Cameos’ father. So overcome with grief was he, he had walked into the never-ending deserts to the north of Elven Earth, never to be seen again. As the Elves are naturally outside only at night, when the heat of the sun has lessened, they had to wait until night before they could see well enough to track. They followed the tracks their chief had left to no avail. The wound his departing left in Cameos bit deeply, and he was forced to take the mantle of chieftain far before his time.
Cameos came out of his painful reverie to realise he was walking with his beloved, hand in hand, round the gardens in their home. A full ten minutes’ walk from where they had been seated.
They left the gardens and retired to their resting rooms. Even though he was chief, Cameos had not moved into his parents’ much larger and more comfortable dwellings. Instead, he insisted on staying in the rooms he had lived in since his coming of age and marriage.
As with all the living rooms in the city of Elven Earth, theirs was basic and small, without furniture except for animal furs that covered the floors. They left the walls and ceiling bare, except for the wild fruits that grew in all the living quarters, and the all-pervading lights of the departed that shone their light through all the subterranean realm. Cameos and Releaka retired to their sleeping room, which was the larger of the two but still small, even smaller than the practice pit he was in earlier.
He took her in his arms and kissed her deeply, running his hands through her hair and pulling her close to him. No matter how troubled he was, or how tired he was from training, he would instantly forget all else when she was in his bed. He felt his blood burning as she slipped out of her scant clothing and lowered him down on top of her warm and ready body. ‘Take me. Take me now, my love.’ She begged excitedly as she tore at his clothes. She bit him tenderly on his lower lip and dug her claws deep into his back as she moaned in pleasure. Then they made love as if it were the first time they had made love, one hundred and twenty-seven years earlier.
Cameos slept. He knew he was asleep, yet he felt his body was moving down a large tunnel. Travelling at a run, he noticed the smoothness of the tunnel walls and the glow of light all around him. He halted suddenly as he had an epiphany: his kind had built this tunnel. He was travelli
ng down a tunnel in Elven Earth, yet this one was three, maybe four times as wide, although the height remained the same as the ones he had walked all his life. How could it be? He knew every inch of Elven Earth, every tunnel, every home, every common area.
A voice called, distant but loud, vibrating off the walls, its sardonic tone sending shivers through his spine.
‘This is your saviour Cameos, your light at the end of the tunnel.’ An explosion of dazzling white light caused Cameos to shield his face and drop to his knees. ‘Will you lead, chieftain of the Earth folk.’ A bitter laugh echoed through the air. ‘Can you lead? Or will you be found wanting, Cameos, son of Camochee?’ the disembodied voice cried from the distance.
‘Who are you? Show yourself!’ Cameos demanded, though his voice sounded far weaker than he had intended, more like a boy’s than that of the leader of an entire race. He felt fear, like he had never experienced in his life. Then he awoke.
Releaka held Cameos in silence whilst he recovered his poise and gained his grip on reality. She had watched in distress as her mate writhed in his sleep, his face contorting in anguish as he struggled with an unseen terror. Elvish folk have a perspective differing from any other creature that marked the passing of time. To sit in silence for hours, even days, was not considered strange. However, Cameos felt the need to share his ordeal and take council from those wiser than himself. He dressed in silence. The loose-fitting animal furs fended of the unexpected chill of leaving Releaka’s embrace. He kissed his beloved softly on the forehead and left.
It was a ten-minute walk to the council chambers of the Elder, but Cameos took double that, wrestling with how he would broach the subject concerning the strange happenings he was experiencing.
The council comprised four members, three male, one female. All members were over two thousand years of age. As with their entire race, they reached adulthood at the age of one hundred, and celebrated this with the coming-of-age festivals, the ascent from childhood. When an Elf becomes one thousand years of age they become teachers, charged with the duty of sharing the wisdom of their years. They also became masters of a particular trade, whether they become combat tutors or farmers, butchers or tool makers depended on where they excelled the most. The average age of death, known as the departing, was between one and a half thousand and two and a half thousand years of age. The oldest still lived at three thousand and twelve, and though still head of the council, Suleka was frail and many believed he would not see too many more newborns coming into the world. The entire race numbered two thousand, two hundred and eighty-seven. There hadn’t been a birth for three years. If they reached two thousand years of age, then they were considered to be the most blessed of all Mother Earth’s children. And thus, became the keepers of the ancient lore, the knowledge passed throughout the ages of the world. It is said that only when this lore has been taught and understood can an Elf really begin to comprehend the nature of life.
Although it was not spoken about in general conversation, Cameos knew well that many of the council members considered him far too young to deal with the day-to-day needs of the people. The Elven folk were aligned to meet the daily needs of the community, but there were still issues that were the chief’s responsibility to rule on. The courts were only in session for one hour a day, at the hour before dawn, but frequently, like today, there was not one dispute to be discussed and ruled on. The main arguments were insulting behaviour, thefts and unlawful fighting which mainly occurred whilst males were intoxicated, due to the effects of brewed herbs, typically inducing feelings of giddiness and jubilation, but every so often there would be an abuse of the substance leading to temporary paranoia and bouts of unnecessary violence. Although there was no confinement in Elven Earth, there was punishment, and it was harsh. Guilty parties would be staked out in the desert, and due a mutation in the pigment of their skin, they would be baked to blackness from the power rays of the sun. Eight hours was the longest sentence and only issued for people using weapons when fighting, which was considered to be the worst crime and it took decades for their honour to be fully restored. Even with the Elven ability to heal at a miraculous rate, it took months upon months for the skin to soften and return to its pale brown colour, even longer for the eyesight to fully return. Most cases however were only sentenced to two or three hours, but it was still difficult to watch your own kind suffer in such a way. Cameos knew that many of the council members thought he was too young to understand the need for strict laws and the stability, the safety, they brought to the community. However, Cameos did understand that his kin needed to be deterred from unlawful behaviour, though it still broke his heart, every time he ordered a sentence.
Cameos entered the council chambers without much hope for a positive outcome when he saw Trake and Trugher in debate with the only other elder in attendance Joleata. Trake and Trugher were twins, completely identical, right down to the fact that they were both stringently opposed to Cameos becoming chief at such a short number of years. Joleata was a council member merely because of her age. She commanded little respect and, according to the twins, frequently misinterpreted the texts of the Elder. The Elders were priests of sorts, giving the general population spiritual guidance and blessings of conception, and keeping accounts of age, writing records of combat and spending hours in endless argument concerning the meaning of life.
Cameos entered the chambers through the only archway and stood in silence admiring the scrolls that were stacked from floor to ceiling on every wall. He wondered, not for the first time, if he would live long enough to view their contents. Even though he was chief and as such his word law, only the Elders were permitted the knowledge of the Elven library and no chief throughout history had ever contested this tradition.
‘Ho Cameos. What brings you to the lords of the spirit? Advice is it you seek?’ asked Trake, the more vocal of the two brothers. Trake turned his head to the left and gave a slight nod indicating that Joleata should leave, which she did so quickly and in silence, offering Cameos a curt bow as she passed him.
‘Come, my chief, let us be seated’, said Trake as he led the trio to the soft animal furs in the centre of the chamber. ‘May we offer you some refreshments, fruit, water, my chief?’
‘No, I come here for guidance, not for pleasantries’, replied Cameos sharply. ‘I was hoping to find the head of your order, for his wisdom would be greatly appreciated.’
‘He has many duties,’ replied Trake, ‘and cannot be expected to be at the beck and call of his “master”. We serve the people, not the needs of the one, no matter which one it may be. Now, what troubles you, young Cameos?’
So, Cameos reluctantly told the Elder about his sleep visions. ‘I have had dreams before, but nothing so vivid and chilling. The water gone from the pool of life, and our people slain. A horrible feeling of doom that stays with me long after I have awoken and yet this latest dream, one I had only hours ago, speaks of hope. Although the voice itself filled me with nothing but despair.’ Cameos revealed obviously feeling great distress. ‘So Trake, Trugher, can you interpret the meaning of these visions?’ asked Cameos despairingly.
‘You go too far with your thoughts, Cameos’, Trugher answered. ‘Do you believe you have been blessed with the gift of foresight? These “visions” you speak of are nothing more than the dreams of an overtaxed young mind’, scoffed Trugher.
‘Do you really believe we opposed your succession for reasons other than the simple fact, you were not ready then, and I deem you not ready now. I prescribe rest Cameos. Hand over the burdens of your office and spend your time with Releaka. Train, fight and hunt. Do the activities meant for a male Elf of your age and you will find your dreams turn pleasant again’, Trake said to Cameos with false sympathy.
‘So, I ask for guidance and you mock me. I seek your advice, but you seek my throne. I see your coveting as blatant as the moon sees the stars’, Cameos replied with a harsh, aggressive edge in his voice. He stood and made his way to the door. Just before he
reached the threshold he turned and raised his finger, pointing at the surprised Elder. ‘Take heed brothers, Trake and Trugher’, he barked, ‘I rule in Elven Earth. I alone shall rule in Elven Earth.’ He turned and left. ‘Till death takes me or my son can best me’, he added.
Cameos walked purposely but without a destination. He was angry, no it was more than that he was infuriated. How dare they speak to him so. His whole body burned with temptation. He ached to return to the chambers and spill blood, break bones, and do all manner of excruciatingly painful things. He cooled his heart, realising he was contemplating an unlawful attack on the most sacred of his race. Suddenly he felt out of control. What was happening to him, was the Elder right? Had the stress of ruling so young driven him mad? Were the visions a by-product of insanity? He told himself he needed some exercise to clear his mind, when really, he needed to fight someone, someone in his skill class, someone he could damage. So, he made his way through the temple, and into the gymnasium.
Cameos stood in the gymnasium and found Thakern was very forcefully instructing a group of about one hundred, male and female elves, in the rigours of circuit training. The group were running in close formation, bringing their knees up to about an inch below the chin. Thakern issued a blaring command, and every trainee stopped immediately to throw themselves down on to their hands, leaving their feet in the air and their bodies perfectly straight. All but two managed this without falling. The two who fell received a powerful kick each from nearby training assistants. At Thakern’s order the group proceeded to let their bodies fall in a slow, controlled motion, whilst keeping the body in a perfectly straight line, and when the top of the skull touched the floor the arms were straightened again and the exercise was repeated fifty times, building muscle and increasing balance. Vigilant teachers used kicks and fists to ensure everyone kept time.
The Banner of the Broken Orc: The Call of the Darkness Saga: Book One Page 5
