Reign of the Dark Elves

by Andrew G. Wood

  Although originally thinking he would be able to stand easily, Oswald was glad of Masina’s help as he felt his legs wobble just a little as they took his weight. As he stood up straight, he placed his hand on Masina’s shoulder for balance, towering a good foot or more taller than she was in height. Once feeling steady, Masina checked he was okay before leaving him to stand on his own and fetching the bundle of clothes she had dropped at the end of his bed. “Here you go, put these on first,” she said passing him some underclothes. While this was something Oswald had never owned, let alone worn before, he did as was asked. As he pulled them on, he noticed Masina looking at him, and feeling decently covered he afforded her a smile.

  “You don’t have to be embarrassed about your body Oswald, it looks perfectly fine from where I’m standing,” she said as if picking up on his lack of self-confidence.

  With a pair of dark blue breeches, and a thick brown linen shirt all put on, Masina then reached down to the floor and pulled a pair of boots out from underneath the bed. “I hope these fit you,” she said passing them over to him. “You have big feet,” she added with a wry smile before turning about to fetch one more item off the hook on the back of the door.

  “And here is a cloak for you. You’ll probably need it on, it’s a bit chilly out this morning.”

  Oswald struggled with his boots, and although they were a little tight, he felt they might stretch a little and were certainly better than his old shoes.

  Masina stepped up to him and after looking him up and down several times crossed her arms and nodded, “Very nice,” she said with a satisfied look on her face. “Come on then let me show you around Whitebrook”, she added placing her hand on his arm to lead him towards the door. Oswald was happy for Masina to lead the way, and once out of what he assumed had been the main room in the house, but was surprised to find himself in a hallway. “There are two other bedrooms, that one is mine next door,” Masina told him, just in case he was interested. The hallway then led through another door which opened out into quite a spacious living area, where he spotted Sansia busy cooking over the far side beside a stove.

  “I’m just taking Oswald outside, Mother,” Masina shouted over to her as they headed for another door.

  “Okay, don’t push him too hard, he still needs to be resting,” came the reply.

  Outside, Oswald immediately felt his lungs hurting as he inhaled his first breath of cold air. Whether it was because he had been wrapped up in such a warm, comfortable bed for the past few days or whether it was genuinely cold outside, he wasn’t sure. However, gathering that Masina didn’t seem to be feeling it as much as he was, suggested the former as opposed to the latter. Closing the door to their home, Masina then linked her arm with Oswald before pointing with her free hand the direction they should walk.

  Glancing back at the house, Oswald noticed it was much bigger and better built than any he had seen before. Rather than just another ramshackle timber shack as he was used to, this home had been built to last. With a stone footing that went up a couple of feet, the timber had been sawn and overlapped so as to better keep out the elements. Aside from the two windows at the front, and the green painted door, it had two stone chimneys and a roof covered with wooden shingle. There was also a small timber outhouse beside the main building, which he thought was not much smaller than the entire size of his old home.

  Sansia and Masina’s house was not much different to any of the others in the village. All were much larger than he was used to, and all appeared to be kept in good condition. This, of course, made him think of a question, “Don’t the elves think it strange that this village is so much more luxurious than everywhere else?”

  Masina just shrugged, “Like I told you, they don’t bother us and haven’t done for some time.”

  “What about the reaping, the humans must have to go through that?” He asked rolling his sleeve and revealing the number printed on his lower arm.

  “I thought that’s what the mark was for,” Masina added not really paying it any attention. “Mother and I looked at it when we first found you and thought it was probably some kind of identification number.”

  Those in Whitebrook seemingly did not have to bother with the reaping, nor did they have most of their food taken away from them. Something that confused Oswald, especially considering they were not that far away from other human settlements that did. Could the fact that the river made accessing the village that bit more difficult really be the only reason these people were allowed to live in apparent freedom? Oswald wasn’t so sure and decided to keep an open mind until such time where it had been proved otherwise.

  As Masina pointed out several other buildings in the village, he was surprised to hear that the children in Whitebrook even went to school. Here they were taught the basics of reading, writing and number skills, and only asked to work when they were twelve. Oswald had been just four when first put to work in a field, and had never so much as seen a book, let alone read one; something which he thought Masina should know.

  “Well, I can teach you if you like?” she said looking over and up at him.

  Oswald wasn’t so sure, but for some reason, his head nodded in the affirmative, without him actually having made any decision.

  “Excellent!” Masina said with a smile, “I’ll get some books and parchment, and we can make a start this evening.”

  Oswald just grinned, unsure what it was he was letting himself in for.

  The village was actually set back some way from the main river, as Masina pointed out the area she had pulled him out of the water. Nearer the bank was empty homes, much smaller and simpler looking than those in the village, and Oswald wondered what they were for. Masina, however, explained without giving him a chance to ask, saying they were part of what she referred to as their great deception. Apparently, any passers-by on the opposite side of the river would only see the small hovel-like homes and not think anything more of it. To anybody looking on, Whitebrook would appear to be like any other village, at least from that particular viewpoint. Oswald had to admit it was a brilliant idea, and even when he had seen the houses, he had not thought them anything spectacular. True, they looked a little different to those he had been used to, but they had certainly not looked anything special, suggesting that the people there lived anything other than a poor, miserable existence.

  Mesina went on to explain that nobody had actually lived in these smaller homes for some years, although they had at one time been part of the village. However, the decision had been made to move it further back away from view, and since then nobody had really bothered them. While there was a bridge much further up the river, that could be crossed with a little care, the only other way over was to swim or use a boat. Further, back upstream Masina said the river forked, going right around them before rejoining the main flow several miles further down river.

  “So the river goes right around you on all sides?” Oswald asked.

  “Yes, I suppose you could say we live on an inland island if that makes sense.”

  Oswald nodded that it did, and would certainly account for the reasoning as to why nobody ever checked up on Whitebrook.

  As they headed back to the main part of the village, Oswald suddenly became conscious of the fact he was arm in arm with a Dark Elf. On seeing an elderly human couple walking the opposite direction, he wasn’t certain how he would look in their eyes. When about to ask how well the elves and humans got on, he paused and thought about it before speaking; something he had rarely done before. Oswald was glad he had, as a little further on he spotted a male elf holding hands with a human woman, indicating that the races probably did not show any prejudice to the other.

  “Are there many mixed-race relationships?” he asked hoping he had used the right words and not caused offence.

  Masina stopped and looked up at him as if looking for a reaction as she explained. Apparently, there were a few couples of mixed race, a few involving elf men and human women, and a few the other way
around.

  “Of course, it does mean if they are in the relationship long term they can not have children, but you knew that anyway?” she said asking the final part as a question.

  “I had heard rumours,” he said before explaining that young human girls were sometimes forced to go to Gashek for the Dark Elves pleasure. Again, hearing such bad things about her own race, clearly caused Masina some disgust as she turned away.

  “Sorry, I didn’t mean to be…” Oswald said wishing he hadn’t mentioned it. However, Masina cut him off mid-sentence, “No, you have nothing to be sorry for. It is just hard for me to hear that my people treat humans in such a horrible way.”

  The lands immediately around the village were mainly used for fields, although a few were pasture for the large number of sheep and cows within them. Masina also explained they had lots of pigs as well, but as they were somewhat smelly, dirty creatures they were kept up to the north of the village. While there weren’t many trees left on what was their island, those that remained had been put to use, as Masina pointed out in the distance that they helped obscure the village on the other side and southern parts. The villagers even owned their own boats, which they occasionally used to go over to the other side to collect timber or stone which they needed to build or repair homes, and even sometimes to go hunting and foraging.

  All Oswald’s aches and pains finally appeared to be catching up with him, as they headed back towards the house. Feeling he still had a few questions unanswered he tried thinking about how best to deliver them without causing any upset. The first, being that he had not noticed a male in the house, and as such duly enquired as to where Masina’s father was.

  The young elven woman stopped again, despite only being a few paces from their front door, “I don’t mind you asking. He passed away five winters ago from a fever. He was quite a bit older than Mother,” she said, her face suddenly looking thoughtful as if reliving a fond memory.

  “I’m sorry to hear that,” Oswald replied, being as it was all he could think of saying.

  As the two passed through the front door, Masina gestured for Oswald to sit on a long cushioned seat, while she put the kettle on for a hot drink. Sansia was nowhere to be seen, and Oswald presumed she must have had to go out, perhaps to work. He waited patiently for the water to boil, and Masina to make the hot tea and seat down beside him before asking the next question on his mind.

  “What is going to happen with me now that I’m better?” he said before even taking a sip from his cup.

  “What would you like to happen, Oswald?”

  “I don’t know really. I will probably have to go on the run again,” he said not anticipating the question being turned back to him.

  “Do you not want to stay here?” Masina asked looking a little saddened by his response.

  “In Whitebrook? It would be nice I suppose, but where will I live?”

  “No, I mean do you not want to live here with Mother and me?”

  Oswald was a little taken aback by the offer. He recalled her saying previously that he could stop there, but had assumed the offer would only extend until he was better.

  “Really? You don’t mind me stopping here?” he asked just checking he understood her correctly.

  Mesina nodded and smiled, “If you want I can throw you back into the River,” she said giving him a cheeky wink.

  “No, I think I’ll give swimming a miss for a while at least. I think here with you sounds much better,” he said.

  Chapter 18.

  Drakon had sent several scouting parties out in an ever-increasing circle around Crendon. With the wraiths having lost any trace of magic being used, the Dark Elven Commander knew he was blind, and that if he were going to find anything it would have to be achieved by an inch by inch search of the surrounding lands. With few reports of anything useful coming back to him, Drakon had once more studied his map and the course he had plotted upon it. If the magicians had continued their route as he had thought it meant they had simply disappeared in through the walls of what appeared to be a neverending vertical cliff face.

  Having had so many negative reports come back to him, and realising that as things stood, he would soon have to head back to Gashek, Drakon had taken it upon himself to search the area he assumed the humans had gone. While magical skills were all very different, he had never heard of any magician, human or elf that could simply vanish. As a result, Drakon and thirty of his soldiers had spent the best part of the day heading to the area he had marked on his map. Having spent the last hour riding up and down the same length of towering rock face, he was beginning to think all was lost.

  Pausing a while, Drakon took a drink from his hip flask, still sat upon his darter and just looking at the impenetrable wall of rock before him. Then something caught his eye just a few yards to his left as a bird flew up. While that would not necessarily have been anything unusual, Drakon had wondered where it could possibly have come from. Replacing the screw cap on his flask and reattaching it back to his belt, he nudged his darter a little closer. Birds simply did not just appear from walls of solid rock, which must mean there was something he was missing. “A cave?” he asked himself scanning the rock for any sign of an entrance.

  Drakon was forced to stop as two large rocks jutted out and slightly up. Curious as to why the rock wall would suddenly have just two large rocks in the way, when everywhere else seemed clear, he moved his darter slowly around the side. Drakon afforded himself a smile as he spotted a way up, and with the darter’s capable of clambering up such a small climb, he nudged the beast upwards. The darter’s claws slipped a little but managed to grip enough to jump up and move on to what appeared a narrow path. More importantly, Drakon had spotted something far more interesting just ahead of him, something not visible from below, the entrance to what he assumed was a cave or tunnel.

  Without delay, Drakon ordered several men up to his position with lamps and torches. Could it be possible he had found a way in and beyond the wall of rock, perhaps even discovered this mythical land of free humans living behind it? With his heart racing, not in fear or trepidation, but excitement as to what he might have discovered, Drakon edged through the entrance. With a torch in one hand and his reins in the other, he moved slowly forward, looking up at how strangely smooth the walls and ceiling were, as if appearing somewhat unnatural.

  “Magic must have done this,” he muttered to himself, as he turned a corner and spotted daylight ahead of him.

  While Drakon would have been the first to venture out to the other side, he sensed it might be better to let one of his soldiers do it. After all, he had not reached such a high position in the Dark Elven Army by taking needless risks. The other end of the tunnel may not actually lead anywhere or to anything, but Drakon was not about to risk his life on the chance that it might. Walking blindly into the unknown was not a chance he wished to take, and so he held back just a little to allow two of his soldiers through first.

  “Sir, you need to see this,” one called back, tentatively peering out of the opening at the end of the tunnel.

  Drakon, suitably intrigued, dropped down from his Darter and slowly edged towards the opening. Peeking through just a little at first, still unsure as to what lay the other side.

  After taking a sharp intake of breath, he was stunned to see the tall stone wall built up around the opening. Two solid ones left and right and a third directly in front of him with a huge set of heavy looking doors. Could this possibly be the place Dark Elves had been searching for all these years? The thought that he was the one to have discovered the last stronghold of the humans caused him some excitement, although he needed to remain calm. Drakon slowly peered along the top of the wall looking for any sign there was actually proof of humans being present. As to whether they had built these solid looking defensive walls, he had no idea, but as they were still in good condition, he could tell that somebody must have been maintaining them. On all Dark Elven maps, this area was just marked as mountains and had no hu
man settlements listed. Now seeing these walls might suggest that was not necessarily the matter of fact, although spotting a human would have just confirmed the situation for him.

  Drakon had been posted to the human lands, not long after finishing his military training some thirty years earlier. While the army was still occasionally needed to fulfil its primary role, more often than not it was little more than a force to police those that had been conquered long before. After all, humans were weak and had barely managed to put up any kind of resistance when the elves had invaded. Drakon, with the sights of eternal glory in his grasp, had a decision to make. Having only thirty men with him, may not be enough to overpower what lay on the other side of these walls. However, with his entire force of a hundred, plus those from the outpost, Drakon was more than confident he could match anything the humans could muster; if of course, they were indeed hiding.

  Brenion sat crouched down behind one of the crenelations on the battlements. Having had scouts track the party of Dark Elves, it finally appeared that they had been found out. Just a few paces away, peering through the entrance of the tunnel he could see the enemy. Peering through the small holes drilled through the stonework for allowing somebody to see without revealing themselves to any intruder, he watched on nervously awaiting them to make their move. With only ten other guards on duty, Brenion was uncertain as to how many Dark Elves were actually positioned further back, although the scouts reported only a force of twenty to thirty. While he had no doubts he could defeat such a force, he did not yet want to show his hand, attack what he could see and allow the others to merely escape. Not only was he sure they would fetch more, but he would have also given the enemy an idea of what to expect. While common sense dictated that he should probably just kill the few he could see and send the others packing, Brenion resisted making such a decision.