by Inlo, Jeff
"Let me write it all down for you," Macheve stated, but the words were already on paper. She held the parchment out to the elf. "Here you are. This is your order as you proclaimed. Please make sure you can read it."
Petiole stepped away from the window and took hold of the written order. He mouthed the words as he scanned the decree. He nodded his head vigorously in blissful agreement as he finished.
"My order!" he exclaimed proudly upon completion.
"Can you read it out loud?"
"Out loud?"
"Yes, we must make sure the humans can understand you. You will deliver the proclamation personally to Pinesway. We will ensure that your words are carried across the town to all those present—that is one of our gifts—but you must read through it at the center of town."
The prospect stunned the old elf. He almost collapsed at the thought.
"I thought you said I was going to stay here?"
"And you are staying here, but I never said you wouldn't be able to appear before others."
"But I do not want to face the other elves. They will question my... my decisions."
"And you won't have to face the elves. You will be facing humans, and potentially some dwarves."
"NO! The dwarves will imprison me again!"
"Relax," Macheve commanded, but with an even more soothing voice. "They won't be able to touch you. You will be guarded. Much better, in fact, than when you were supposed to be protected by elf guards."
Macheve quickly guided four tall dieruhnes into the room. They stood erect carrying white iron tridents graced with lightning enchantments. Their blood red faces revealed no emotion, but their pale eyes bore into Petiole with cold hatred.
Petiole stumbled backwards until his back hit the wall. He looked upon the dieruhnes with absolute terror.
"Dieruhnes are enemies of all elves!" Petiole whimpered.
"That is what makes them the perfect guards for you. Do you think any elf would dare lay a hand on you when you are surrounded by four dieruhne warriors? Elf archers would not even be able to strike you from a distance. A single dieruhne spear has been known to cut through a cascade of a thousand arrows. How can an elf ever reach you?"
"But what of the dwarves? You said there would be dwarves at Pinesway?"
"Of course, they must be informed of the decree, but don't worry. Even a brigade of dwarves would not be able to touch you. Dieruhnes hate dwarves almost as much as elves. They will ensure your protection."
"They will not hurt me?"
One dieruhne spoke in a gravelly voice that was almost unintelligible, but its words were simple.
"We will not kill this elf."
"There, you see?" Macheve affirmed. "You're safe. Think about it. You won't have to stand before the elves and have them question your orders, but you get to dictate to the dwarves how things stand. Isn't that what you've always wanted?"
Petiole began to nod slowly. He feared the dieruhnes, but if they vowed to protect him, he could not imagine better guards.
"Yes, I will give my orders to the dwarves."
"I told you this would work out. We're going to do this right now so you can get it over with and come right back here. In order to do this properly, I'm going to temporarily take hold of a portion of your mind. You'll still be in control, but I want to make certain that your message is heard by everyone in Pinesway. This way you won't have to shout. I don't want you to fight against me. Do you understand?"
Petiole didn't care. He was consumed with the thought of forcing his will on the dwarves as opposed to being imprisoned by the cave dwellers. It was a moment of victory, a delight to savor, and he would have allowed Macheve to take full control of his thoughts if it were necessary.
"Go ahead. Do what you must."
Macheve slipped a small portion of her own consciousness into the elf's willing mind. She had the control she needed in an instant. Not wanting to waste any time and chance losing Petiole to a possible fit of insecurity, the serp called for Rivira who was waiting in a back hall.
"Sorceress, transport them now!"
The next thing Petiole knew, he was in the middle of a town square. Humans and dwarves mulled about in all directions. He was surrounded by strangers and enemies in a place he couldn't previously conceive. He had never been in a human town, never walked along streets lined with so many structures.
Pinesway was bustling with activity, and dwarf construction was going on everywhere. The town was never really small in size. Even when the first settlers built its foundation at the edge of the forest, it expanded almost over night. It had been filled quickly with all the necessary buildings to accommodate loggers that worked in Dark Spruce, but there had never been anything remarkable about the town.
Before the magic returned to Uton, Pinesway was comprised of ordinary homes, typical shops, and plain warehouses. One street was very much the same as the next. The town center was nothing more than an open square, but that was before the dwarves added their talents to rebuilding the outpost that had been temporarily abandoned. They transformed what was a bland collection of common buildings into a masterpiece of architectural magnificence.
The ornate designs that covered every structure in grandeur overwhelmed the elder elf. It seemed as if every corner of the square called for his attention, and while each building fit together as part of a well-coordinated design, there was not one small section of uninspired monotony to be found. No matter where he looked, Petiole found peaked roofs with ornate gables and arched walkways leading to elaborate entrances. Everything around him offered tribute to the splendor of dwarf construction.
While Petiole wavered on his feet in stunned silence, his protectors sprung into immediate action. The dieruhnes cared little for the talents of the dwarves or the intrinsic beauty in their construction. Their sudden appearance created a stir among the populace. It was attention that was required, but their position was not secure. They quickly took hold of the elf and carried him away from the center of the clearing and to the edge of the tallest building on the square.
"What are you doing?" the elf protested. "You are not supposed to hurt me!"
"We are not," one of the crimson-skinned fiends hissed. "We are protecting you."
Without another word, the dieruhnes hoisted the elf upwards as they scaled the building wall. They took a position at the center of the roof where they could be seen by many.
One of the brutes pointed to the confused crowd below as he made his instructions plain and simple to the elf.
"Read your note to them!"
The old elf wasn't given a chance to think or to consider his circumstances. He didn't mind the height or his perilous position—he was an elf and elves were at home in the peaks of swaying trees—but the growing throng of humans and dwarves below might have placed him into a panic-driven stupor.
He was compelled by his protectors to focus on the parchment the serp had delivered to him. His hands shook, and he coughed several times. In his agitated state, his announcement began in a bare whisper, but it was all that was needed.
Despite Petiole's frailty and the inhibited tone of his voice, the message boomed across the square, amplified into the ears of every inhabitant of Pinesway by Macheve's manipulations. Petiole might have lacked the strength to speak in anything more than a murmur, but Macheve became the hammer that accented each word. The serp forced the message out of the elf's mouth with near terrifying intensity, and the elf's voice rang out across all of Pinesway.
"The practice of logging by humans in Dark Spruce Forest will end. These trees are under the protection of the elves. Any trade with the dwarves that passes through the forest will cease immediately. Dark Spruce will not serve as a refuge for illicit activities. Refusal to abide by this decree will be viewed as an act of aggression against all elves of Dark Spruce."
The message stunned both humans and dwarves alike. It hit them like a declaration of war, and they could not help but question the validity of the claim. It was the hei
ght of arrogance, and it spurred an expected response as several dwarves finally recognized the elf.
"It is Petiole!" one cried. "Take him!"
Dwarves were not as nimble as elves, but they could climb with the inherent ability of natural born builders. At least a dozen scaled the walls fast enough to reach the roof before the echo of Petiole's last words faded away from the far borders of the town. They rushed towards the elf in a fit of anger.
Two of the dieruhnes met the onrushing dwarves as the other two maintained their position near the elf. Those that stood guard watched over the crowd and readied themselves to thwart additional attacks.
The two crimson fiends that charged the dwarves did so with methodical precision. What they lacked in pure speed, they made up for in resolute motion. They set into the dwarves like heavy boulders rolling unyieldingly down a hillside.
Dwarves were stout and powerful, stronger than oxen and as determined as a north wind. They drove into the dieruhnes, stubbornly forgetting what they faced. They might have been able to withstand the fury of a charging bull, but they could not hope to endure the sheer might of the crimson-skinned demons. Every single dwarf was thrown from the roof in but an instant, unconscious before they even hit the ground.
Dwarves further back in the crowd who had witnessed the short skirmish decided to attack from a distance. Determined to obtain justice, near twenty pulled throwing axes from their belts and whisked them toward the elf's head. If they could not capture the criminal, they would execute him.
The two dieruhnes that stood beside Petiole barely moved. They directed their tridents toward the onslaught of hatchets, and bolts of lightning exploded from the three-pronged spears. The axes were ripped from the sky without one ever coming close to its target.
Petiole stood mesmerized by the violence around him. He feared for his safety only for an instant. After watching his protectors make short work of the charging dwarves that climbed to his perch, he knew he could not be touched. A sense of reckoning filled his spirit as he looked down upon the dwarves who could not reach him. He began to laugh, and through his maniacal giggles, he issued a proclamation purely of his own.
"I will never be locked away again. You blamed me for a war you started. Now I blame you and start my own!"
The boastful assertion enraged every remaining dwarf. Willing to stop at nothing to seize the elf, they rushed toward the base of the building that supported Petiole and the dieruhnes. With their bare hands, they began to demolish the walls and pull at the support beams. They would tear the building down and use the rubble to crush the elf and his protectors.
The structure did, in fact, collapse, but before it fell, Macheve ordered Rivira to teleport Petiole and the four dieruhnes back to Portsans. With the elf back in his room, the serp looked to him with a smile.
"Did that satisfy you?"
"Yes! Yes, it did!" Petiole claimed, and the elf began to pace around his room once more. His stride, however, carried him with an almost lively jump to each step.
Macheve was also quite satisfied with the results. She removed her small hold on the elf's consciousness and left to make a full report to the other council members.
Back near Dark Spruce, the citizens of Pinesway wondered what to make of the bizarre occurrence. They had little contact with the elves of the forest. Was the announcement nothing more than the ravings of a lunatic, or did the elves intend to enforce such an edict? They could not tell.
The dwarves suffered nothing but anger. They immediately dispatched a messenger back to Dunop to inform the queen of the incident. They waded through the pile of rubble with hopes of finding the corpse of at least one of their tormentors, but they were left to sift through empty dust and debris.
Chapter 17
The delver looked with both curiosity and unease upon the horde of goblins lurking all around Burbon. He studied the movements of the goblin masses, strove to identify traits that allowed the multitude of chaotic creatures to move in coordinated bands.
No matter how many times Ryson witnessed a host of monsters gathering to attack some city or town, he always questioned the sanity of a land tinged with magic. He understood that the energy opened doors to realms where such beasts were common, but to see them stagger out of the forest in vast numbers always left him questioning his senses. Was he really seeing a massive throng of twisted creatures ready to swarm over Burbon like hungry insects on a bloated corpse, or was it all some long nightmare from which he could never wake?
"How long do you think they'll wait out there?" Ryson asked of Sy, as the two stood upon a tower platform between the south and west gates.
Sy looked upon the horde in more practical terms. He was not thrilled with the number of creatures prepared to assault his town. The methodical manner in which they took strategic positions revealed the extent of their intentions. He knew the goblins were going to storm the wall in one massive wave, but he also understood that time was not crucial to their plans.
"I don't think they're in a hurry to attack," Sy responded, as he continued to monitor the creatures gathered around his town. "There's no reason for them to rush. They've cut us off. Nothing can get in or out unless they allow it. They're tiring us out. They know we can't sleep. Time is on their side."
Ryson couldn't argue. No one was going to sleep knowing what prowled just outside Burbon's wall, and there really was no other reason for the goblins to wait. Enough of them had gathered to eventually breach the town's defenses, that much was clear, but they did not attack. Instead, the diminutive monsters lingered in large groups. Some were at the edge of the clearing that surrounded the town, while others waited in the hills or stood restlessly near the banks of the river. Still more were farther back near the border of Dark Spruce. Many of the goblins had already taken a position within crossbow range of Burbon's edge, but they were unwilling to fire. They simply glared at the town with snarls of anxious hostility.
Ryson turned about and looked to the east. Even without a spyscope, he could see the giant spiders. They had completed their task with amazing efficiency. They had built enormous webs, anchoring them to trees and hill tops, even to a barn and a silo. The bloat spiders hung at the center of their creations, enormous round nightmares seemingly suspended in midair. The chillingly large insects had succeeded in blocking any retreat to the western farmlands. No sane person would go near such horrors, and with the goblins filling all roads toward the forest, there was no path to escape.
While Ryson considered the haunting and highly effective utilization of the spiders, Sy pointed out an apparent flaw in Okyiq's strategy.
"He's got us locked in here, but I'm surprised he's not sending the hook hawks in for a closer look."
Ryson expected the same, he was prepared to fight them off, but they never approached. The hawks were perched on the tops of trees, motionless, just staring toward the town's wall. Their solemn presence unnerved him, almost as much as the bloat spiders. He wondered if maybe Okyiq felt utilizing the hawks was an unnecessary risk, or if the monstrous goblin was just using them to keep the soldiers confused and apprehensive.
"Do you think they know the civilians left?" Sy wondered aloud.
"Yeah," Ryson responded.
"You sound sure."
"I am. They had to reach Connel by now. Enin would have seen them. That means the serps know. Somehow, they're all connected."
"You think Enin's back in Connel already?"
"Absolutely, he just had to teleport to Dunop, hand over the note, and leave. He wasn't supposed to wait for a response. I think he realizes the less he knows the better. Staying in Dunop would have been too risky. No, he's back in Connel, and he has some idea of what's happening, so the serps know too."
Realizing that the dwarves must have received Ryson's message, Sy began to worry about how that message might have been interpreted. The delver was right. Enin wasn't supposed to get involved. The serps would be kept in the dark about their plan, but it also meant that no one would a
rgue Burbon's cause to the dwarves. In essence, they were accepting dwarf help on faith alone. It was a big risk.
"I've been thinking about that," Sy admitted. "We have no way of knowing if the dwarves are going to help us. If they don't, that could really be a problem, and we won't find out until we're underground and halfway to Dunop. We'd never be able to dig through what they did to block the tunnels. It'd be like trying to break through granite. We could get in those tunnels and just end up in our own tombs."
"They'll help us," Ryson stated firmly.
"They don't owe us anything," Sy countered. "I know Connel and Pinesway have dealt with the dwarves on good terms, but our only history with them was a very bloody battle. They might think we deserve what we get."
"They don't blame us for anything in the past. They know it was the dwarf separatists who caused the conflict. Queen Therese has shown a desire to make up for that. Trust me, they'll help us."
"I hope so, because if they don't, we're in trouble."
Ryson began to consider how bad it would be if the dwarves decided to ignore his request. Sy was right, they wouldn't be able to dig themselves out of the tunnels before they starved. They'd have to return to Burbon, and they'd march right back into Okyiq's hands. Starving or facing the horde, it would be a difficult choice, one that Ryson decided not to think about.
Sy noted the grim expression on his friend's face, and the captain felt a twinge of guilt. He didn't want the delver to believe he was blaming him for anything.
"Well, at least all the civilians made it to Connel," Sy offered. "And the tunnels at our end are opened up. Whether we make it or not, it was the best plan possible. All the civilians saved and every one of us has a chance. That's all we could ask for. You should be proud of yourself."
Ryson was not ready to take any bows. He also saw things in a much larger context. Whether the town guard escaped or not, there were other factors that were becoming quite obvious.
"I don't know," the delver admitted. "Looking at all those goblins, I'm wondering if it's really going to do any good. What are we really going to accomplish here? We saved the people, but the town is most assuredly gone." The delver nodded toward the horde. "No way it survives this. Okyiq's going to take control of everything we have here. His army isn't just going to go away. Maybe we just delayed things."
