Jactatör seemed shocked. “You want me to draw my sword when I see her?”
“Unless you can think of another way to present it to her.” Mortharona shrugged and subtlety checked the pearl inset bracer Lalith had given him. It was shifting from white to black. It was time.
When they opened the double doors of the royal suite, Jactatör was once again overwhelmed with the beauty of Queen Rhiánön. She had a petite but curvy body that would fire any man’s imagination, especially when it was combined with her perfect alabaster skin and long flowing red hair that was extremely rare in the elven community. In a word, she was beautiful and Jactatör found that his tongue was frozen in his mouth. He knew he should say something but he was dumbstruck by her beauty.
As they entered, Mortharona stepped to the side and whispered the words of his illusion spell. The magic interacted with the dried dark elf blood on Jactatör’s shoulders and his whole visage changed. Instead of a handsome young elf, the Queen and her two personal bodyguards saw a dark elf in the process of drawing his sword. They acted appropriately. They attacked.
Jactatör had no idea why he was being attacked but he was. He fought valiantly but futility. Even as skilled as he was, he knew that he was no match for two royal guards. It was only a matter of time before one of them struck him down. Then suddenly he felt himself flying across the room as numerous glowing balls of fire struck his body. His last image was of the Queen standing next to her throne with her arms outstretched and magic missiles pouring out of her hands right at him.
Mortharona smiled as the Royal Guards attacked. They had been so easy to manipulate. They were about as smart as rabid dogs. Give them a target and they would attack, even if it was not logical for a dark elf to be in the royal suites. Then his mother had to help her precious guards and cast her one, purely offensive spell, which she memorized every day. Magic missiles were an extremely powerful spell and one that she could cast faster than any defensive spell he knew. However, she typically only had one in her daily arsenal unless she was going off to battle or leaving the palace. Considering she had a full day of negotiations and other menial tasks, the odds were against her having more than one to use. Besides, once he got next to her he had a way of neutralizing her magic.
Seeing Jactatör fall, Mortharona rushed forward, the epitome of a concerned son.
“Mortharona, what is a dark elf doing inside Elfholm?” the Queen asked as she fell into her son’s arms. When she heard the click of the bracers and felt their dampening effect on her magic she instinctively tried to jerk away but the dark haired prince was too strong. “What…what is this?”
“The beginning of the end,” Mortharona grinned and gestured at the two royal guards that were checking the body of his fallen pawn.
The Queen could not help but look where he pointed.
When Mortharona pressed the black pearl inset on his left bracer every diadem worn by the Palace Guards exploded…along with their heads.
Chapter 12
Graytael had never been happier.
Even though, Anasazi and Rjurik had always treated him as their own, there was always a slight rift between him and them. It was more that they wouldn’t, or couldn’t, let themselves get too attached to him. Gray had always played it off that he probably reminded them of his parents. After all, according to both of them, he had his mother’s crooked grin and his father’s eyes. They would always praise him for the good things and punish him fairly for his numerous infractions but the one thing he most remembered was that neither of them was very physical in their affection. Rarely did he get a hug from either guardian and contented himself with a small pat on the back or a thump on his shoulder. These were the common signs of their affections but not today.
They, along with the rest of the gathering, gave him plenty of hugs. Especially Annabelle. She seemed to find any reason to get close to him and give him a squeeze. Not that he minded. It all just felt strange and slightly overpowering. The cake had been delicious and the presents overwhelming. None of them had been too extravagant. Most were simple handcrafted items; such as a new set of boots from Kariah and the younger strays, a set of leather bracers inset with a black onyx gem from Raz, a bone handled kukri from Rjurik, a black leather sheath for his new knife from Abban and a leather-bound book from Anasazi. Annabelle had not given him a gift, yet.
Even as everyone was clearing away the tables, Annabelle pulled him aside. “Gray, I left your present upstairs but it’s hidden in the attic and I’ll need your help to get it.” She batted her eyes a few times. “Would you help me?”
Gray swallowed heavily as his heart went aflutter and he stammered, “Sur…sure.”
She grabbed him by the hand and led him upstairs to the attic.
Gray looked around and tried to figure out where she could have hidden anything. There was not a nook or cranny in this room that he did not already know. “Where?”
As he turned to face her, Annabelle pushed herself close to him and kissed him on the lips.
Gray was completely shocked and overwhelmed. He resisted for all of about two seconds before he let his own passions loose. Grabbing her tightly, he pulled her body close as his mouth sought hers.
She responded in kind, as her hands began to move up and down his back.
Gray shifted one hand to the back of her head and he intertwined his fingers in her long raven hair.
It was pure passion that they both felt. They both fell victim to that rush of excitement when they knew they had crossed the line into the forbidden zone. Without words both adolescents’ hands began to roam up and down each other’s body, exploring areas that they were prohibited to see. How far this tryst would have gone, neither could predict as the silence outside the inn was broken with the shrill call of a war horn.
Only one part of Gray’s mind even registered the sound since he was so engrossed with the girl he desired. Then came the second horn, and a third, and a fourth. Gray broke the embrace and gently pushed Annabelle away.
“Did you hear that?”
“What?” she asked innocently and looked around.
Gray looked back her and his heart skipped a beat. Annabelle’s hair was a complete mess, her cheeks were flushed and her shirt only had one button still attached, which partially revealed her milky white breasts. The vision of her beauty fired his lust. However, something in the horn blasts had ignited his budding combat instincts. Before he could say anything else, the village warning bell began to ring and the two young lovers knew that something was wrong. The town bell would only be sounded in case of a fire or an attack.
Gray rushed to the front window. He did not need to look long when he saw hundreds of goblins running down the street. “We’re under attack.”
Annabelle was hastily fixing her clothes and had just finished buttoning her shirt when the trapdoor popped open. It was Abban and Raz.
Her brother was completely oblivious to what his sister and friend had been doing but not Raz. He took one look at Annabelle’s hair and flushed cheeks and he did the math. Raz did have the decency not to say anything but he did give Gray a grin and a wink before adding, “Anasazi said that we should get to the storm cellar.”
Gray’s emotions were running wild. He was still sexually excited from his little tryst with Annabelle but now, his blood was heating up with the precursor feelings of battle. Even as he wrestled with emotions, more of the Inn’s strays came flooding into the attic. Some ran to the window to peer out, two began grabbing their belongings and one even climbed in bed and pulled the covers over his head. Seeing the fear on their faces was enough to jar him from his inactivity and he began giving orders.
“Annabelle, get Fergal out of bed. Abban, you and Raz get downstairs and open the storm cellar. We’ll be right behind you.”
To their credit, all three did as they were asked without question and Gray gathered up the other strays with a minimum of fuss. Minutes later, they were ready to depart.
“Annabelle, I’ll
lead the way. You make sure we don’t lose anyone.”
She swallowed hard but nodded. “Okay…just be careful.”
He flashed her a crooked grin, drew his warclub and curved short sword and slowly exited the attic. The inn was quiet but that did not mean that it was silent. Numerous screams filled the air along with the clash of steel. One part of Gray wanted to rush outside and join in the defense of the town. But he had responsibilities to the other strays that could not be ignored. They made their trek through the top two floors without meeting any resistance. That changed as they came down the staircase where it emptied onto the main floor.
Gray was five steps from the landing when the front door burst open and in flooded goblins. He stopped counting at five because by that time he was in battle with them.
Goblins are the scavenger race of Terreth. At only about three feet tall, they typically had pale green skin with large mouths and protruding lower tusks. They are wicked, cruel and nasty. Their only redeeming feature was their total lack of courage unless they had overwhelming numbers, which in this case they did.
Gray had been training for combat since he was a toddler. Now he had an opportunity to apply everything he had learned in the defense of others including the girl he loved.
Without thinking, he leapt forward and tackled the leading three goblins. Then he was up, slashing back and forth with his sword while swinging the warclub at anything that moved. He intended to cry a warning to Annabelle but all that came out was a bestial growl. The more he fought, the more he felt himself fall into a battle frenzy. It was intoxicating. Gone was anything around him except his enemy. They were his prey and he was the predator. Even as they died, more goblins flooded through the front door but Gray did not care. The more that came at him, the more he could kill.
Suddenly a scream cut through the red haze of battle that was clouding his thoughts.
It was Annabelle calling his name. Gray looked over his shoulder and past the goblins to see seven larger and better-outfitted grey-skinned creatures carrying her and the other strays out the back door. He longed to give chase but he was surrounded by nine goblins that refused to die and were trying their best to kill him. Luckily, the goblins were not very skilled with their swords and tended to hack and chop with their rusty blades.
Gray forced himself to focus on the dangers at hand and rolled out of the way of one attack only to find himself in the path of a different goblin. He instinctively knew he would not be able to avoid this attack and his only hope was to block it. Even then, that was a slim possibility due to the awkward position he was in but he had to try.
Rjurik had always told him of those moments in battle where time seemed to slow down and everything appeared more vibrant. The stillness of the air, the coppery scent of spilt blood, the malicious grin of the goblin about to kill him…hell, Gray even noticed the line of drool dangling off its left tusk. Everything was magnified and in slow motion.
Gray tried to twist his body and raise his father’s warclub into a defensive position. He was not going to make it and he knew it. Even as he watched the goblin’s rusted and pitted short sword bypass his hastily raised defense, he blinked in disbelief as the goblin’s head exploded.
Gray’s perception of the battle snapped back to normal as the eight remaining goblins shifted their attention to his savior, Garoth. The blacksmith’s son was wielding a huge sledgehammer, which the town farmers typically used to pound fence posts into the ground. Garoth’s massive strength, size and familiarity with this weapon made it extremely formidable as the poor goblins found out.
Gray seized this opportunity to regain his balance and get back into the fight. It was not long before all the goblins in the immediate area were dead or dying. The two rivals stood in a mound of bodies and struggled to regain their breath. Gray looked over and said, “Thanks.”
Garoth gestured with his maul at the first set of bodies that the half-elf had dispatched. “You’re welcome but judging from that mess, I doubted that you needed my assistance.”
Gray focused his attention on the same set of bodies and realized the truth in his statement. When he had first attacked the goblins, he fought with the fury of the wolverine. It had been a near overwhelming rage but he had been one with the battle. Something had broken his concentration and he had fallen back into learned patterns. He pondered for a moment what been different? What had changed or stopped the rage?
Gray felt the cold hand of fear close on his heart. “Annabelle!”
Garoth looked up. “What about her?”
“Orcs carried her out the back door along with the rest.”
Garoth cocked his head to the side. “Orcs? What’re those?”
Gray pointed at the bodies around them. “Larger versions of these guys but with grey skin and an unquenchable thirst for blood.”
Garoth nodded. “Ah, my dad always called them hobgoblins.”
Gray was already on the move and heading toward the back of the inn. The kitchen door had been kicked in and the body of Fergal lay in two pieces. Gray’s best guess was that he had broken away and tried to run but as he rounded the counter, one of the orcs had cleaved him in two. When they passed through the kitchen and out the back door, Gray absentmindedly grabbed his backpack and bow and slung them over his back. Their first stop was the storm cellar.
Even as they approached, it became obvious that the door had been hacked open and there was not anyone inside but Garoth still rushed inside calling Annabelle’s name.
Gray had stopped a short distance away and began studying the ground. He was trying to pick out the captured children’s tracks from the attackers. It was not long before he discovered their tracks, they were faint but they were there and they were heading south into the plains. The young half-elf looked over at Garoth and raised one eyebrow in a silent question. The blacksmith’s son nodded and without a word, the two rivals began their chase.
* * * * *
Khlekluëllin knew something was wrong the moment the spiders entered the forest. Being a Forest Warden, he was completely in tune with the trees of the Great Forest. It came with the job. But he was also a friend to the Meliai, the tree nymphs which inhabited the Malloran trees.
The Great Forest had been the home to the elves since the Godwar. Aurora had placed them here and here is where they stayed. The elves had tended and infused the small forest until it became the greatest woodland area on Terreth. Along the way, their magic had awakened the spirits of the trees. The golden boughs of the Malloran trees made up the interior of the Great Forest and became the foundation of Elfholm. Instead of building traditional homes, the elves guided the Malloran trees with magic until they grew into the proper shapes needed for domiciles. They did not do this to every Malloran tree, only to a select few and only with the Meliai’s permission. This meant that the Elfholm was constructed in harmony with nature and the elves strived every day to live that way.
Unknowingly, it did give the elves three distinct advantages. One, the Meliai were in complete harmony and communication with every tree in the Great Forest, be it ash, birch or oak. Not every tree had a nymph, more commonly called a dryad, but they could talk with every tree. Two, the Forest Wardens could rally at nearly any point in the Great Forest quickly just by asking a dryad for permission to travel through their tree. This allowed them to step inside a tree that might be on the far eastern border of the forest and moments later, step out of another two hundred leagues away. More importantly for Khlekluëllin, he could send messages to his men through the dryads. He typically did not like to do this as he felt he was taking advantage of them. However, when the spiders entered the Great Forest, he knew they were under attack.
He was rushing back to his office when he witnessed the heads of two Palace Guards explode. In his heart of hearts, he knew they had been betrayed. Knocking on the wall of his office, he began speaking even before Dryope fully stepped out of the wood.
“Get a message to every Warden; squads one, two and five
are to rendezvous at the northern barrier. They are to hold that line at all cost. Squad Four must act as a reserve until the army arrives.”
Dryope the Meliai was stunningly beautiful. Her form was that of an eternally young elven maiden, perfectly formed with long flowing golden hair but only about three feet tall. Only the concern and fear on her face marred her beauty. “And what of squad three?”
“They are to secure the Palace. We have been betrayed. The royal family is under attack.” He could tell that she wanted to ask more questions but she also knew that time was of the essence and disappeared back into the walls of her tree.
Hating to do it in some aspect because of the mischief his arrival always caused, he also knew that he needed his friend at this very moment. Looking up, he spoke to the empty air as he projected his thoughts into the heavens. “Hal, are you nearby?”
*Indeed my friend, I am to the west of Elfholm at this moment. Are you in need of my services?*
“Yes. We are under attack. There are reports that spiders have entered the forest…” Khlekluëllin paused as the sunlight disappeared, plunging the home of the elves into darkness. “What in the name of Aurora is that?”
* That is an eclipse. It is an ancient omen of ill. *
Khlekluëllin began running through the palace. All around him, he saw panic. The normally stoic elves did not understand what was happening. First the palace guards’ heads exploded and then the sun went black. They just did not know what to think and if Khlekluëllin’s hunch was correct, he didn’t have time to explain.
* I will be there soon but until then, you are on your own. *
Khlekluëllin muttered through clenched teeth as he ran, “It isn’t the first time. I just hope I’m wrong.”
Darkness Falls (Tales of the Wolf) Page 10
