Final Voyage of the Remora

by Richard S. Tuttle

  "That is where you are wrong," retorted Prince Saratoma. "You have made a lot of mistakes during your reign, Grandfather, but the worst one was having my father killed before he had a second son. Now there will be no heir to replace you when I stop the soldiers from taking our visitors to Despair."

  The king gasped at his grandson's words. He rose shakily, a rage consuming him, but Saratoma was already on his way out the door. He stared at the retreating back of his grandson and slumped back into his chair.

  * * *

  Vinafor soldiers lined the road, and Edmond slowed the caravan to avoid hitting any of them. The wagons crept towards the pass until they could proceed no further. A solid wall of soldiers spread across the road, and they refused to budge. Edmond dismounted and started walking forward. Garth also dismounted and moved swiftly to catch up.

  "What is it?" Garth whispered.

  "This is the mouth of the Ramaldi Pass," explained Edmond. "I assume that it is the end of the line for us. I was hoping to find an officer who could give us an idea of how long this impasse will last."

  Edmond pushed his way into the milling soldiers and stopped when he saw what they were gazing at. A short distance away, thousands of soldiers in the red uniforms of the Federation army were camped out in the pass. Edmond sighed in despair.

  "Edmond Mercado," called a friendly voice. "What are you doing here?"

  Edmond turned to see Colonel Pfaff striding towards him. He grinned broadly.

  "Colonel Pfaff," greeted Edmond. "I see that the pass is still blocked. Do you have any idea how long it will be?"

  "No one knows," replied the colonel. "I spoke with General Cornalos a few minutes ago. He has no orders other than to sit here and block the Federation. It could go on indefinitely."

  "Am I correct in assuming," asked Garth, "that your orders would not prohibit the passing of our caravan?"

  "Evidently not," shrugged the officer, "but we can't control the Federation. It is doubtful that they will let you through, and you could get stuck in the middle of two armies. That would not be a good place to be stuck."

  "Neither is where we are now," chuckled Garth. "I think we should try it."

  Edmond glanced at Garth and shrugged. "Why not?" he muttered.

  Colonel Pfaff laughed and then shouted orders to the men blocking the road. The sea of gray uniforms parted. By the time Garth and Edmond mounted their horses, the path was wide enough to drive the wagons through. Edmond shouted the order and the caravan started moving. Garth moved his horse through the gap and then rode to the front of the line. Edmond, filled with curiosity, followed him. The first row of Federation soldiers had no idea what to do. Some of the men moved to make a gap for the wagons, but others held their ground. The wagons were forced to come to another halt. Garth dismounted and walked up to one of the obstinate soldiers who was sitting on the ground with a serious look on his face.

  "You're blocking the road," Garth said to the soldier.

  "Aye, I am," retorted the soldier. "What are you going to do about it?"

  "Ask to speak to your superior officer," replied Garth. "If these wagons don't get to him, he is going to want to know why. What is your name, soldier?"

  "Hey," the soldier said as he leaped to his feet. "Nobody said anything to me about a caravan coming in."

  Garth smiled as the soldier turned around and waved his fellow soldiers aside. Edmond chuckled inwardly as he waved the wagons forward. The gap in the red army rippled before the caravan. Once they were past the first row of soldiers, no one thought to question them. Garth mounted his horse and rode up to the point again. The wagons moved slowly through the human sea of red uniforms, and it looked as if the caravan would pass completely through the Federation encampment, but it was not to be. An officer raised his hand and stepped in front of Garth.

  "Where do you think you are going?" asked the Federation colonel.

  "To Zinbar," replied Garth.

  "I don't think so," the colonel declared. "The pass is closed until the Vinafor army gets out of my way."

  "Well, Colonel," replied Garth, "I don't have any control over those soldiers in the funny looking uniforms back there, but if I could get them to move for you, I would."

  "Your lack of authority is not really my problem, merchant," the colonel responded. "You'll just have to turn these wagons around and go back."

  "Well," Garth replied as he rubbed his chin, "that could get a might sticky. Those Vinafor soldiers told me that they were stopping all traffic coming into Vinafor. So, while it was okay for me to pass through their army coming this way, they won't allow me to pass back through their lines. That sort of means that we are stuck in the pass with you. I sure hope we don't get in the way when the fighting starts."

  The colonel frowned at the dilemma, and Garth tried another approach.

  "Look, Colonel," Garth said, "we don't care much for being in the way any more than you want us here. We have wagonloads of Vinafor wine destined for Zinbar. I wouldn't want your men discovering our cargo while we are stuck in the pass. I can imagine what might happen if your men started drinking heavily, and that wouldn't be a pretty sight. Wouldn't it serve both of our interests if you can pass us on out of here?"

  "Wine?" questioned the colonel. "Are all of the wagons filled with wine?"

  "Every single one of them," grinned Garth. "In fact, I would be more than happy to halt the last wagon as it goes by so that you could sample it. I mean inspect it, of course. Not that a group of officers wouldn't know what to do with a case of fine Vinafor wine."

  Garth winked at the officer, and the man's stern demeanor evaporated.

  "Are you trying to bribe me?" he asked with a grin.

  "Of course not, Colonel," chuckled Garth. "I'll just pull a case of wine off the last wagon and hope that the driver holds still long enough for me to get it back on the wagon. These drivers don't care for sitting still much."

  The colonel laughed heartily. "You are incorrigible, merchant," he said.

  "My friends call me Garth Shado," smiled Garth. "Is your favorite color red or white?"

  "White," chuckled the officer. "It's Colonel Thrackton to friends and enemies alike."

  Chapter 29

  The Challenge

  The Baroukan soldiers marched into the Heart at dusk. Elven women stared at the soldiers in fear and soon disappeared into their huts. King Elengal had been expecting the soldiers, and he exited his building at their approach. Two guards flanked the king as he walked into the square. The Baroukan soldiers stopped and stood before him.

  "We have come for the prisoners," declared the Baroukan officer. "Have them brought to us."

  King Elengal nodded and waved for his escorts to produce the foreign elves. While the king waited, his eyes scanned the Heart. Not a single male elf was in sight, and the women had fled indoors. The Heart was a ghost town, and the king knew that trouble was about to erupt. Over the past few days, he had heard the warnings and seen the signs of rebellion, but the burden of his office finally weighed too heavily upon his soul for him to care. He sighed heavily, but he felt a strange sense of relief, for he knew that his long reign was about to end. That small glimmer of relief was outweighed though by the knowledge that his death would also lead to the end of the Dielderal.

  The foreign elves were marched out to the square and halted a few paces away from the Baroukan soldiers. The officer gazed at the prisoners for a long time before he addressed the king.

  "I require their weapons and possessions," stated the officer.

  The king nodded and the two guards raced back to the hut. They carried the bows left by Prince Rigal and his men. They handed the bows to the soldiers and retreated.

  "Is that all of their possessions?" asked the officer. "I believe one of them carried a medallion with him?"

  The king raised an eyebrow as he stared at the four Baroukan soldiers. Something was not right, and the king frowned as he tried to discover the reason for his feelings of deception.

&
nbsp; "It is on my desk in my study," the king said to his guards. "Fetch it and hurry."

  A guard raced off and returned within a minute. He handed the medallion to the officer. The officer waved to his three men, and they immediately flanked the prisoners. That is when the elven warriors appeared. Scores of elves encircled the soldiers, their bows drawn and arrows nocked, although the tips of the arrows pointed downward. Prince Saratoma stepped forward and glared at his grandfather as he marched straight towards the king and stopped a pace away.

  "No elves will be taken from this village today," Saratoma declared. "The three have committed no offense to the Dielderal. They are welcome guests here. Have the soldiers drop their weapons."

  The king was not surprised by his grandson's appearance, and in a perverse way, he was impressed by Saratoma's ability to gather so many elves to stand with him in rebellion, but he suddenly recognized the prince's error for what it was.

  King Elengal returned his grandson's glare with a pleading look on his face. "Please, Saratoma, do not do this. You said that I have made many mistakes, and I have, but this is one mistake that you will regret for the rest of your life. I beg you to disperse your men before anyone gets hurt."

  "I will not do that," Saratoma replied tersely.

  "Yes, you will," Prince Rigal stated. "I will not be the cause of the destruction of the Dielderal. Have your men quiver their arrows before someone gets hurt."

  Prince Saratoma stared at Prince Rigal uncomprehendingly. The descendant of Prince Geltim smiled broadly in return.

  "May I speak with Prince Saratoma before my departure?" he asked the officer.

  The officer nodded silently as his eyes scanned the scores of archers surrounding him. Prince Saratoma walked over to the prisoners and stood face to face with Prince Rigal.

  "I have not asked anything of you since we have met," Prince Rigal said softly so that the conversation could not be heard by others. "Now I must."

  "You can have whatever I own," frowned Prince Saratoma, "but I clearly do not understand your objection to what I am doing."

  "You will understand in time," smiled Prince Rigal, "but it is best if you remain confused for a while longer."

  "What do you want?" asked the Dielderal prince.

  "I want you to stand your men down," answered Prince Rigal, "and I want them to remain docile. They are not to attempt to rescue us in any way. I want your solemn promise on that."

  "But why?" frowned the Dielderal prince. "I have finally taken a stand, and you are intent on throwing your life away. It makes no sense to me."

  "I am pleased that you have taken a stand," smiled Prince Rigal, "but now is not the time. There will come a time when all of the Dielderal must take a stand, and you must be here to ensure that it happens. Do not waste the lives of your people on petty matters. When the Dielderal are ready to fight, make sure that it is the final battle, and make sure that you win."

  "We can never defeat the empire," sighed Prince Saratoma.

  "Yes, you can," replied Prince Rigal, "but it will take great planning and better timing. Make up with your grandfather. As poorly as you judge him, he is a wise man and is only trying to do what he can to ensure the survival of his people. If I am not mistaken, I think he has begun to see the light, and his knowledge will be crucial for the planning. Work with him and you can accomplish much, but on your own you will bring misery to the Dielderal."

  "I cannot just let you die," objected Prince Saratoma.

  "We will not die," grinned Prince Rigal. "No one must die here today. You will have to trust me on that, but I have never lied to you. Trust me now and make your men stand down. Please."

  A deep crease crossed Prince Saratoma's brow, but he nodded in acquiescence. He turned and instructed his men to quiver their arrows. The archers were confused, but they obeyed without question. The officer breathed a sigh of relief and ordered his men to escort the prisoners out of the Heart. Prince Saratoma watched them leave with a shaking of his head. After they had gone, the king approached his grandson.

  "Come inside with me for a moment," he said softly. "I have something to share with you."

  The confused prince followed his grandfather inside the building and into the king's study. Both men sat down, and the king smiled broadly at his grandson.

  "You have shown great leadership skills and bravery today," the king said with a smile. "It took a great deal of courage to challenge me. I am very proud of you."

  "Proud of me?" balked the prince. "I raised an army to defy you, and I did it to save the lives of three men that you are sending to their deaths.

  You friends are in no trouble," King Elengal smiled. "Those soldiers were imposters."

  "Imposters?" echoed Prince Saratoma. "How do you know?"

  "There are three clues," answered the king. "The first is that the empire never sends only four soldiers to the Heart. There are always at least six, and one of the four was wearing an ill-fitting uniform."

  "Then who are they?" asked Prince Saratoma.

  "When the emperor told me that he was looking for strangers," explained the king, "he spoke of nearly a dozen people, three of whom were elven. The rest were human, although the number is uncertain. I suspect that the humans who entered the Heart today were friends of Prince Rigal. That is why he asked your men to stand down."

  "And the other clue?" the prince asked.

  "The officer asked for the medallion of Geltim," grinned the king. "How could he possibly know about it? It was not mentioned to me by the emperor, and surely he would have mentioned it had he known about it, and I did not speak of it in my message to the emperor, as I did not know that it existed at that time. The only reason the officer knew, was because Prince Rigal would not leave without it, and his comrades knew that."

  "Then what do we do when the real soldiers arrive?" asked the prince.

  "We tell them the truth," replied the king. "We turned the three prisoners over to Baroukan soldiers who came for them. That is why Prince Rigal could not tell you himself. He didn't want you to have to lie. His respect for the truth has told me more about him then any of his own words. I can no longer disbelieve the things he has told me, and that means that I have been ruling very poorly. To rule more appropriately, I need your help, Saratoma. You and I will have to discuss the proper direction for the Dielderal to pursue in the future. Can you stomach an old fool long enough to do that?"

  "An old fool?" Prince Saratoma asked with a grin on his face. "I have never thought you a fool, only stubborn beyond belief. As to working together with you, I will have to. I promised Prince Rigal that I would."

  "I thought as much," chuckled the king, "but is that your only reason?"

  "No, Grandfather," Saratoma admitted. "For years I have dreamed of the day when you and I would be like father and son. I am happy that we will work with each other to correct the mistakes that we both have made."

  * * *

  The Baroukan officer ran into a small clearing and stopped. The other soldiers and the prisoners soon joined the officer. On the ground in the clearing were the bodies of twelve Baroukan soldiers; four of them were undressed. Prince Rigal gazed at the bodies, but he could not tell if they were dead.

  "They are not dead," announced Clint McFarren as he stripped off the officer's uniform. "The fairies are keeping them asleep. The will remain asleep throughout the night and into tomorrow for as long as it takes for someone to stumble across them. That should give us a healthy head start."

  "You have done well, Clint," smiled Prince Rigal. "Their deaths would have angered the empire enough to take their wrath out on the elves."

  "That is what I figured from your message," replied Clint as he tossed his uniform onto the ground."

  "I thought we were going to die back there," interjected Karl Gree as he disrobed. "You didn't mention anything about being surrounded by elven warriors."

  "I did not expect Prince Saratoma to progress so rapidly," replied Prince Rigal. "That could have been a v
ery messy confrontation."

  "Only where we were concerned," stated Max Caber. "It would have been our bodies littering the forest floor. None of us would have had time to react with that many elven archers surrounding us."

  The bearded Ranger swore as the uniform he was taking off tore loudly. The other Rangers laughed at Max's expense.

  "We will have to lessen your rations, Max," quipped Shawn Cowen. "You are getting a bit big for your britches."

  "Bah," Max frowned with feigned offense. "I guess they don't feed these Baroukans very often. This was the largest uniform of the lot."

  While the others laughed, Gerant frowned.

  "Where do we go from here?" the elf asked. "A mere day's head start will not be much if they are determined to track us down."

  "Back to the mountains," answered Clint. "It is the only feasible path out of the Elfwoods. The Baroukans may try to follow us, but they won't be successful. We have planned our escape route carefully, and any Baroukans that try to climb the Barrier after us will die."

  "We have the path booby trapped," explained Max. "A series of natural avalanches will engulf the troops following us, but I do not think they will get that far. If they do track us to the mountains, they will assume we plan to travel over them to Atule's Maze, but that is not our plan. We will stay among the peaks as we progress further northward and continue with our mapping mission."

  * * *

  The Ramaldi Pass was over fifty leagues in length, but the road was well traveled, and the caravan encountered no further delays during their transit. At the eastern mouth of the pass the road forked into two roads. Leading south from the pass was Blood Highway. It was a recently built road that paralleled the North Blood River to the Spino capital city of Valdo on the shores of the Sea of Tears. The fork to the north was an older road named the Zinbar Trail. The Zinbar Trail ran alongside the Zinbar River and eventually ended in Giza, the capital of Aerta.

  Edmond directed the caravan to turn onto the Zinbar Trail just as a group was emerging from the forest on the Blood Highway on their way to the pass. A shiver ran up Garth's spine as he watched the other group approach. Several dozen red-clad soldiers escorted a dozen black-robed riders who had their hoods pulled forward to hide their features. Garth pulled his horse away from the wagons and dismounted, presumably to adjust the cinch, but he wanted to be in a position to watch the Federation mages as they passed the wagon Kalina was riding on. The black-robed riders paid little attention to the caravan, and Garth remounted his horse and caught up to the wagons.