by Tim Flanagan
Although the Goraneans did not like the thought that the grindel had escaped, the ruined fortress was now theirs and from here their armies could assemble, plan and attack the queen and her band of outlaws.
The Goraneans immediately collected the bodies of their dead, taking what weapons and armour could be used for others, and piled the bodies against a stone wall ready for burning. A runner was dispatched to the temporary camp that had been made before they approached the fortress at Dragonheart Cavern, where he was to take a horse and ride back to the Rocks of Goran with an order for the armies of the allies to advance.
29. A Part to Play
Edgar, Ralphina and the children arrived at the ruins of Dragonheart Cavern the following afternoon after a slow ride by horseback from the Rocks of Goran. Around the ruins of the fortress, some of the trees facing the Twisted Tower had been chopped down so there was a clear view over the dry plains of the Arenadra. From between the pillars and stone remains of the fortress, many different coloured tents had been erected. The camp was a busy place - horses were being stabled, lords were shouting commands to their soldiers, blunt swords clanged together as soldiers practised their fighting techniques and whole roasting pigs spat fat into flames as they cooked over a hot fire. The overriding sound from within the camp was the repetitive hammering from the blacksmiths as they struck their hammers against the rich mountain iron to form the new blade of a sword, shape the metal of a soldier’s chest plate or hammer iron rivets into wooden shields. Metal helmets clattered as they were tossed into a pile outside the temporary blacksmith's.
Wherever they looked, everyone seemed to be busy and the children in particular felt like they shouldn’t be there and were getting in the way. They had left the Rocks of Goran that morning but their progress had been slow due to the vast numbers of soldiers moving towards the fortress as well as squires, horses and heavily laden carts filled to the top with food and weapons. Symen had also accompanied them which made their progress even slower, not only because of his large frame weighing down the horse that seemed too small in comparison to the librarian’s size, but also because of the numerous books and scrolls that swung loosely around his saddle.
From amongst the crowds of people Edgar spotted the centaur that had been inside the Council chambers and signalled to him.
'Prince Chiron,' Edgar shouted, 'do you know where King Conroy is?'
The centaur looked towards the children, still uncomfortable about them being brought into the war. 'The large white tent with the red phoenix banner,' replied the centaur pointing over the sea of tent posts towards a large tent. Surrounding it were others which had different banners flying from their central supports indicating the presence of the other leaders that had been inside the council chamber. They manoeuvred their horses towards the tent, Symen’s horse struggling forward once again and sagging slightly in the middle due to the great weight it carried.
The tent was heavily guarded but, after dismounting, everyone except Symen was allowed through the large white flaps of fabric served as doors into the king’s warm tent. On the floor were thick soft rugs of different colours and patterns, covering all trace of the grass and dirt underneath. By the door stood a small framed metal pedestal with a bowl of water on the top. It was customary for anyone entering a Goranean king’s room to wash their hands, to wash away the blood of his enemies and protect the king from disease.
'Welcome,' said the king who was sitting talking to Lady Flora and another man. King Conroy politely stood as they entered the tent, his arms open in a gesture of friendship. 'Please, come and sit with us, we have much to discuss.'
Edgar found three small wooden stools and passed them to Ralphina and the children, whilst he remained standing.
'Please, take my chair,' the king gestured to his own seat. 'You are a guest inside my house.'
Edgar knew it would be rude of him not to accept the king’s honourable gesture so sat down.
'Our armies are ready for war; only the dry Arenadra Plains separate us from the faerie queen and her band of cursed men, orcs, donestre and other foul creatures whose only purpose is to kill. As soon as she moves her army forward, we have no choice but to meet her on the battlefield. Whilst our collective soldiers fight up here, we need you to go down there.' The king pointed down towards the ground.
'I don’t understand what you mean,' said Edgar, confused.
'Dragonheart Cavern is the ancient home of the ground dwellers,' said the man who was sitting opposite Edgar. 'This is where my people come from. I am Lord Claydem, son of Pithleslip and the fifteenth lord of the ground dwellers.'
'We have a very important role for the four of you which is crucial to our victory over the queen,' continued the king as he strolled around the tent. He pretended to show interest in a wide yellowed map held down on top of a thick wooden table. Edgar got the impression that the king was unsure about how to progress with the conversation, as if they would be uncomfortable with his suggestions.
'The ruins that you see above ground are tiny in comparison to the network of tunnels in the soil beneath our feet. ground dwellers have a habit of constantly tunnelling and some of those tunnels stretch a long way from here in many directions,' said Lord Claydem breaking the silence and taking the lead with the conversation. ‘We need you to enter the tunnels whilst we draw the fighting towards us on the Arenadra Plains.
'I heard there was a dragon living underground,' said Scarlet curious to hear more of the story Ralphina had told her when they made their journey to the fortress.
'Our tunnelling disturbed the dragon that lives in the underground. They say that all the bad souls that die make their way to the dragon to be burnt and cleansed by her fire. When our tunnelling broke through into the cavern of the dragon some of the bad souls were released, poisoning many of our people. We lost half of our numbers to the escaped souls before the tunnels were sealed up and abandoned forever.'
'The dragon remains beneath the ground, feeding on the souls of the dead,' said Lady Flora to Scarlet. 'You are in touch with nature more than most, especially for someone from your world. If you put your ear to the ground you can hear the earth vibrating as the great dragon breathes.'
'So you want us to go into the tunnels?' Edgar asked King Conroy.
'Yes,' came the reluctant reply from the king.
'But once the tunnels are opened, won't the souls be released and the illness begin all over again?' asked Joe.
'Do not fear, I have already called upon the moles and the beetles that live within the earth to investigate the tunnels for me and the poisoned souls that had escaped have long since gone. No one will become ill again,' replied Lady Flora.
'But what about the dragon?'
'She is still there, but I will enter the tunnels tonight and talk with her. For her freedom, she may even help us.'
'I still don’t like it,’ said Lord Claydem in a raised voice, ‘I have already told you many times, Lady Flora, that you should never trust a dragon. They are known for their cunning and devious nature.'
'Lord Claydem, your lack of faith in animals continues to amaze me,' replied Lady Flora. ‘If it wasn’t for the animals and plants that live amongst us, we would not survive. We need them as much as they need us.’
'What are we to do once we are inside the tunnels?' asked Edgar trying to calm the situation before it escalated into an argument.
'We need you to enter the tunnels and make your way towards the Twisted Tower,' King Conroy said.
‘Straight to the queen?' said Ralphina in disbelief.
‘Yes,’ replied King Conroy pretending to examine the map once again. ‘Whilst we fight on the battlefield, all the queen’s attention will be on us. It will give you the opportunity to enter the tower and destroy the source of her power, the runestaff - Pendreich's Bane.’
'The tunnels beneath our feet are so complicated that there is no way you could find your way through by yourself so one of my men has agreed to accompany you.'
'Would you mind fetching him please, Lord Claydem? King Conroy asked the ground dweller politely. 'Now is as good a time as any for him to meet his companions.'
Lord Claydem slipped off his chair, stood up and strode out of the tent. King Conroy sat down on the vacant chair and let out a deep sigh.
'ground dwellers,' he said, 'they are so grumpy and easily upset. They lack faith, understanding and compassion, but I'm told we must tolerate them. Every single one of them acts like a dwarf but on a really bad day. The only good thing is that they keep themselves hidden underground most of the time.'
'We need everyone who is willing to fight,' Lady Flora reminded the king.
'Why must we be the ones to go in the tunnels?' asked Joe.
‘Your arrival is no accident. It has long been said that someone from your world would destroy the queen and free our world. No matter how many soldiers we have on the battlefield, the greatest battle will be between you and the queen.’
'But how can we stop her?' replied Joe desperately.
'You have your own army with you together with your own weapons. You have a knight of King Arthur, a Caniard princess, your Silver Bough and a daughter of nature; you are better equipped for your journey than you realise. Many years ago Arthur ordered the portals to be closed by a magic that not even the faerie queen could break, sealing her here and protecting your world. Your magic is the only thing that can stop her.'
They were interrupted by the tent doors being pulled open and Lord Claydem striding back in with another man of a similar size behind him. As he lifted his head to gaze upon the occupants of the tent, they all realised that they recognised him. It was Bothelgrit, the grumpy fisherman that had left them in the Feculent Marshes.
30. The Fire Elves
They spent every spare minute preparing. All they had to do was be patient and wait for the convoy of elves to progress along the
Shadow Road and into their ambush. The Ranger’s scouts had reported on the formation of the elf convoy as well as their approximate number. Max had positioned himself at the top of a sharp incline above the road that could only be reached via a long way round. The Shadow Road was exposed beneath him whilst on the other side was a steep drop into the forest. The only trees that grew were those within the undergrowth, their canopies appearing almost level with the road itself. At this point the road was relatively straight as it cut along the side of the small mountain and gained height. Further along the ridge beside Max he could see teams of women and children crouched down low, nervously watching the road. On a slightly lower ledge to Max’s right was a team of archers who sat behind rolls of logs that had been covered with camouflage of moss and leaves threaded between the logs. Although Max couldn’t see them from where he was, he knew that there was a similar team of archers positioned to the left. From the road, the archers' hides would look like nothing more that small outgrowths of hawthorn and bramble clinging to the side of the mountain. Amongst the canopy of the trees within the undergrowth on the far side of the road, Max knew that the Green Huntsmen were also positioned, blending in with the green foliage of the trees, their archers would already have their distinctive green feathered arrows lined up ready for the approaching elves. The road was only just wide enough to get two carts along side by side, so the elves would stand no wider than six to eight shoulder to shoulder, whilst horsemen would maybe line up three or four alongside each other. The Rangers knew that the elves would all be armed and moving together in tightly packed uniformed rows and that they were deadly foes. If the ambush were to go wrong, not a single Ranger or Huntsmen would be left alive.
Everyone waited.
Some held their breath with anticipation, the nervous ones closely examined their fingernails, the confident ones organising their arrows in neat rows, whilst others closed their eyes to help them relax. No one talked but everyone kept glancing to the road checking for signs of the large convoy of organised elves.
What no one had expected was the sound.
The silence was broken by a distant thud, like your heart beating inside your chest. At first Max was unsure whether he had heard anything or not, but as he concentrated on it, it seemed to swell and grow inside his ears.
And then it got louder and louder until it almost felt like the ground was shaking.
The feet of rows upon rows of elf foot soldiers struck the ground at the same time. The deafening sound was made worse by the striking of four wide skinned drums that beat to keep the foot soldiers in time with one another. The drums were strapped around the huge waists of four mutant elves standing eight foot tall, distorted and bloated by the toxic fumes that had been released from the volcanic depths of Mount Fury when they were young. They were bare chested and muscular, their faces twisted, skin scaly in places and blackened and melted in others. The giant elves wore bent metal helms around the tops of their heads, flaps of leather dropped down to protect the back of their necks from the sun. In each hand they swung long black sticks with round bulbs on the end that caused the drum skin to vibrate a deafening and deep boom with ever strike.
‘What have we done?' said Max as he watched the line in the distance getting bigger and bigger. ‘This was my suggestion. Even with the Green Huntsmen we are outnumbered many times over.’
‘There are a lot of elves, but they are vulnerable. They won’t know where the attack is comin' from and there is no shelter to save them,’ whispered Littleskink who was crouched down below the ledge and sat with his back against the stone. Max looked down at him and gave him a nervous smile. He had been surprised that the goblin hadn’t fled from the Ranger’s camp; he didn’t seem to be a fighter, more of a gambler and a cheat, but then Max never considered himself a fighter either. Maybe both of them just needed to be there.
Eight horses with banners and lances held high in the air trotted in front of row upon row of identical faces in identical uniforms marching forward, their eyes focused on the elf in front. Dense rows of elf soldiers continued stamping in a never ending chain. Somewhere to the back a low pitched horn blew into the air, but the marching did not stop or even slow slightly.
As they progressed beneath the side of the mountain where Max and Littleskink hid, Max could not resist the urge to look down at the elves once again. One of the horsemen shouted a command to the soldiers behind him, encouraging them to keep in a straight line as they marched towards the first archers that nervously hid along the road to the right. All it would take would be for one elf to look up the mountain and see the top of Max’s head silhouetted against the sky for the ambush would be discovered, but watching them move forward so perfectly formed was as mesmerising as a hypnotist swinging a watch.
In the centre of the convoy two beasts the size of elephants lumbered forward at the same pace as the elves. The brown skinned animal was covered with similar blackened leather to the rest of the convoy, concertinaed in flexible layers protecting its trunk whilst a flattened metal shield protected its forehead. The yellow tusks were etched and carved in black and curved menacingly upwards to gold metal tips. Astride the neck of the beast sat an elf that controlled its walking by a series of chains that were attached to the elephant’s tusks, whilst strapped to the harness over its shoulders were the long wooden arms of the cart it pulled behind. Even more menacing than the elephant was the long barrelled weapon that it pulled. It almost looked like there was fire licking out of the large hole at the end of the barrel together with a continuously thin wisp of black smoke. The Rangers and the Green Huntsmen would never have seen such weapons as this before, but Max knew what a danger they posed. Not only were the fire elves named after the volcanic home they lived on, but they had obviously learnt how to use fire to their advantage. This would be the equivalent of a cannon in his own world and would cause the ruin of any army that went up against it with nothing more than swords and arrows.
Max’s focus on the elephants was disrupted by a shout that came from the right where some of the horses lost their footing and fell onto t
heir front legs as the ground suddenly gave way beneath their weight. Earlier in the day the Rangers had dug some wide shallow pits in the road then covered them with fine twigs, leaves and then stone dust and gravel making the road appear to be completely level. Out of the eight horses, five had either broken a shin bone or become lame as a result, unseating their riders. Some of the soldiers that immediately followed the horsemen didn’t have time to stop marching and also fell into the pit or got kicked by a scared horse.
As soon as the call to halt the convoy had been given, a spray of arrows flew out from between the hawthorn bushes halfway up the side of the mountain, whistling into the chests of the unsuspecting elves that were now at the front of the convoy. As soon as those elves fell to the ground and another row became exposed, more arrows were fired from within the hide. Realising they were under attack the elves' fighting instincts automatically kicked in - many reached for their bows and fired towards the hide. But the Rangers were well protected behind a thick row of logs; all they had to do was crouch down beneath them, listen to the arrows thudding into the wood and wait for it to stop before sitting up and releasing another arrow.
Meanwhile, the archers in the rear hide had also begun to release their arrows into the back of the convoy, quickly reducing their numbers. As the elves turned around, not knowing where the attack was coming from, the Green Huntsmen released their arrows from their tree-top position at the side of the road and into the ranks of the elven army. Some of the elves grabbed the bodies of their fallen comrades to build a wall as a shield while they backed up against the mountain side and tried desperately to notch an arrow into their bow, but many were confused as to where the attack was coming from and a moment’s hesitation was too long if they wanted to survive.
