Elvenshore: 01 - The Dwarves of Elvenshore

by Clark Graham

  “The other elves were elated by his being able to do this. Nevelef, for that is his name, was an instant hero. I spoke out against it. What right did we have to steal the gold of the Dwarves? What right did we have to kill gremlins to breed them faster? What right did we have to change the natural order of things? My questions were drowned out.

  “The problem they had was keeping the room at the right temperature. When they did not do this the fetus would die. It took large blocks of ice to keep a room at the right temperature the whole time. We bred many gremlins but it cost us dearly. The ice we were using to preserve our food was used to breed gremlins. It polluted our rivers, which started killing our crops. We had to stop. But the evil Nevelef found a solution to this problem too. He discovered that inside the mountains at a certain depth, the temperature was just right. If you could find an underground river, you could then breed an unlimited supply of gremlins. It worked except for one drawback. Elves love the night, the stars and sleeping under them. They do not love the holes of the dwarves. Those willing to breed the gremlins were not willing to do it for long. Soon we had run out of volunteers. But they had a lot of gold, so they stopped breeding the gremlin for a while.

  “Nevelef was not done. He had now found a way to interbreed species. He bred man and ox. He wanted to create a species that was smart and strong so he could say take this wagon to here. It would require no driver and make an elf’s life that much easier. He came up with the second evil that drove the elves from Elvenshore. The Minotaur was thus created. It worked at first, but soon the Minotaur started asking themselves, ‘Why do we work for them when we can make our own way?’ He had bred too much human into them. So soon the Minotaur stopped working for us and left. That was when he did the third evil that drove the elves from Elvenshore. Wanting to get the gold stealing going again he taught some of the Minotaur to breed gremlins. The Minotaur went down into the caves and started the breeding in exchange for part of the gold. Soon they started keeping all the gold.

  “Then Nevelef did the final evil that drove the elves from Elvenshore. He created the Blackspot Spider. We had large brown spiders, some if which I still keep. They sting food and eat what they need and make egg sacks out of the rest. They hunt rabbits, fawn deer, and large birds. We would take the egg sacks down and use this for our food. It is preserved because the venom keeps the meat fresh for a long period of time. We control the spider’s population by only allowing a few egg sacks to hatch.

  “Nevelef was not satisfied with this. He wanted a larger spider and larger game. He bred an aggressive palm sized spider with the brown and created the Blackspot spider. It found larger game, but to our horror it started eating elves. We could not control its population because it would attack anything that came near its lair. We started killing it wherever we found it. He begged us to stop. He had found that if we harvested the spider that we could use its venom to stop the pain in a wound. Its blood could stop an infection. Unlike the dwarf’s herbs, which can only prevent an infection, this kills an infection that has already started. The Spider’s legs can be used as shafts for arrows. You can get two shafts out of each leg section and it has three leg sections per leg and eight legs. This makes the shafts strong and true. It was because of this shaft that Elon of Northwood was able to shoot at such a long distance and kill the first Tabor.

  “So we started just harvesting the spider. It was too late for the elf though. Tabor the first was starting to raise an army, we had elf-eating spiders roaming the woods, and the Minotaur was plotting against us. We started to leave in large numbers. Those that did not get out fast enough were getting caught up in war. This didn’t stop Nevelef. He was working on yet another inbreeding. He was trying to breed man and gremlin, to make a smart thief that bred itself. That is when I acted. I took up my bow and walked to Nevelef’s workshop. I shot him near the heart with one of these fine arrows. I didn’t want it to kill him right away. I stood over him while he slowly bled to death and told him all of the evil that he had caused the races of Elvenshore. After he died I slew the fetus that he was creating. I took his notes from all of his experiments and used these to start the fire that consumed his workshop.

  “For this I was banished to the Eastern Woods, kept as a prisoner and then left behind when all of the other elves left Elvenshore.”

  “I think that the humans would thank you for putting an end to this conjurer and his wayward creations. But I must ask you more about this spider’s blood.” Sarchise said.

  “Yes, it will heal your infected dwarves. That was one of the reasons I mentioned it,” Amlius said, as he went to his closet and pulled out two vials of black liquid. “Here, heal your sick, but come back tomorrow as I wish to speak with you some more. Here take this too. It will stop the pain.” He pulled a small vial of clear liquid off of another shelf.

  Sarchise took the vials and thanked the elf as he headed up the hill. Cazz met him half way up. “Good, he didn’t turn you into a pig.”

  Sarchise smiled. “Thanks for noticing. He did give me some elfin remedy that I would like to try out on one of our wounded.”

  “Elf magic? Better ask for volunteers.” Cazz said.

  Sarchise went over to the pavilion where the wounded were lying. “I have here, some elf medicine that he says will cure the infection. Is there anyone here willing to try it?”

  Everyone volunteered. Sarchise rubbed the black blood into one of the wounds but it caused so much pain that the dwarf cried out. He then dabbed some of the clear venom in the wound. It stopped the pain instantly. On the others he dabbed some of the clear liquid in the wound first then washed it with the black. It caused no pain, and having the pain gone improved the spirits of the wounded right away. The healers came up when they saw what he was doing and helped him out. Soon all of the infected dwarves had been treated. They were smiling and joking back and forth in a few hours. Some even felt so good that they wanted to report for duty but Cazz would have none of it.

  The next morning Sarchise checked the wounded. All of the infections were gone and the wounds were on the mend. They all hailed him and the elf as heroes. Sarchise just smiled and made his way back down to the elf.

  “Your remedies are working although I did not tell them what it was,” Sarchise said.

  “Don’t be like the elves and keep secrets. Tell them all. Speaking of which, I do have to tell you one more thing. When I first saw you and your dwarves around the Ornaomac, I wanted you gone. I waited for you to leave, but when you did not I went into the woods behind you and blew a horn. This horn, although you could not hear it, sounds like a wounded deer. It is irresistible to the Blackspot Spider. I blew it so loud and deep that it sounded like a hundred wounded deer. That is why the large number of spiders came upon you that night. My intention was only to scare you away from the Ornaomac and not to kill any of you. I knew that you could have seen the spider from far off and thought that you would retreat in front of them. I had no idea that they had grown to such large numbers because of the wars between Minotaur and gremlin. I also did not know that you were so brave. You killed the vast majority of the spiders in one battle. But now that you know of the benefits of the spider, do not be so hasty to eradicate them.”

  “That does not please me to hear you confess this,” Sarchise said.

  “I am, like the rest of my race, very short sighted for ones that will live so long. We have almost destroyed these shores. You have a chance to undo much of what we have done. Already the Minotaur are down to just a few and there are no females left of their species. They will be extinct in just a few short years. The spiders have left these parts. Indeed, there may not be any left, but I do think there are, perhaps in the northern part of Westwood. All that is left for you to do is deal with the gremlins. This will be a hard task. You must first destroy the breeding pits under the Mountains of Iron. Nothing else will matter if you cannot stop them from producing more. You must also kill all those who know how to breed the gremlin. Never again must greml
in hordes be allowed to roam freely in Elvenshore.”

  Sarchise looked surprised by his last statement. “That is not our way. I would not kill the humans or Barazar.”

  “I know,” said the elf. “Only the humans know the secret. Barazar knows little. He could not breed them with his knowledge. These men were setting about trying to destroy you. They have no families, ask them their wives names or their daughters; they will hesitate as they make up a name. This Tabor has recruited them. I heard them talking in the night. They are leading you into a trap. He is recruiting the new settlers from the Kingdom of Zor. He promises them the gold of the dwarves if they will breed gremlins for him. Do not go to Zor or you will die. Destroy these men; the secret must disappear with them.”

  Sarchise pondered his words as he walked back to camp.

  Arrows in the Deep Woods

  After a meeting with Cazz, Sarchise prepared his army and set out for the Kingdom of Zor. He was going against the wishes and wisdom of the elf but he had thought it through and come to a decision. He had plenty of supplies and his army was prepared for anything.

  The forest was overly thick as he headed through the heart of the Westwood. It seemed to get thicker as they went. The green vines twisted around thick trees and the songs of the birds came as a constant screech. It smelled wet and misty as the humidity rose where the forest would not let light in to dry it out. Moss in great clumps clung to the limbs of the trees. The dead trees did not make it all the way to the ground but leaned against each others, having no clear path in which to make the fall.

  They would camp in the forest at night, eating only the despised dried meat and whatever bread and cheese was left. The trees were too close together and Sarchise would allow no fires. Fallen branches and roots of the trees tripped and cut at the weary warriors. The healers were constantly bandaging and re-bandaging small wounds.

  At last they came to a clearing. There was another elf hill in the midst of the forest. There used to be a Ornamac tree here too, but it had long since rotted, having no elf to protect it. Still one could see for miles of the fog-encrusted forest of the Westwood. Just seeing the treetops above the patches of fog, one could see red feathered birds dancing in and out of the canopy. “We will camp here for two days. I will send a runner back to tell Cazz of our progress.” Sarchise said, Hemlot nodded in response. “And later,” He continued, “I will look over the maps that the elf gave us. I think that it will be safe to make a fire here, but a small one, for cooking only. No sense in chancing it.” With that Hemlot left to find a runner. He came back a few minutes later.

  “One of our scouts reports that we are being shadowed. They did not get a good look at whoever it was, but they said it was too tall for a dwarf or gremlin,” Hemlot reported.

  “It would not be the elf. Your scouts would never spot him. It must be a man,” Sarchise responded. “Capture him if you can; if you can’t, chase him away. Meanwhile, I need to amend the letter to Cazz.”

  Their journey had already taken an ominous turn. The man shadowing them would only mean that the elf was right. Sarchise now knew that he was walking into a trap. He pondered long and hard about his options while gathering up the maps that the elf had given him. He laid them on the ground then plotted a course through the densest part of the forest. He informed Hemlot of his plan and the two amended slight details of it long into the night. When finally they thought that it was perfect, they went to bed.

  It was early in the morning when the night watch woke up Sarchise. “Sire, the humans are dead!” the watchman said with alarm in his voice. Sarchise sprang to his feet and ran over to where they were. Each one lay in his own blood, an arrow piercing each heart. Sarchise pulled an arrow out of the nearest human. It was black hard and straight, an elf arrow. Hemlot ran up a few minutes later. Sarchise showed him the arrow. “Our elf friend is doing what he thinks is best. The human shadowing us is most likely dead also.” Sarchise said.

  “How does this change our plans?” Hemlot asked.

  “It doesn’t. Let’s get the troops fed then ready to march. Put your best axe men in the lead as we will be cutting our way through the forest before the day is out.”

  With that the cooks prepared some venison strips for breakfast, as deer were plentiful in this part of the forest. They still had some bread and cheese to go with it. After that the dwarves mustered into ranks and set out for the deep woods. The axe men were in front and the archers were placed in the rear. Sarchise was gambling that the messenger got through to Cazz. Everything depended on that.

  At first the journey went smooth, but soon the forest began to close in around them. As the day progressed the axe men were cutting through more and more underbrush. There were places that the trees were so close together that the army moved in single file. The marching wasn’t bad, as the warriors had to wait for those cutting through to make a trail. Sarchise found that the axe men began to tire rapidly. He was having to change them out every two hours. After twelve hours he saw that they had only come five miles. He ordered the column to stop for the night. The warriors were spread out over the thin trail through the woods for a quarter of a mile.

  The watch was small that night, as they only had to guard the trail behind. The dwarves grumbled about eating dried meat, but Sarchise was unfamiliar with this part of the forest and decided not to chance it. Besides, he reasoned, if they started a forest fire the whole army would be burned to a crisp in the narrow confines of the trail. In the morning he let the army sleep in, except for the axe men. They were sent ahead to get a head start on the trail clearing. At noon, after a cold breakfast, the army set out again. It was only about an hour before they caught up with the axe men.

  One of the watchmen came up to Sarchise. “Sir, the watch reports that gremlins have been spotted on the trail behind us. They are coming up fast and are in large numbers.” Sarchise rushed back to see what was going on, by the time he got there the rear of the column was fully engaged in a battle. The wisdom of putting the best archers at the rear was evident, as they were mowing down scores of gremlins in the narrow path before they could get at the dwarves. Sarchise climbed upon a low hanging limb to get a good view of the fight.

  “Pull the wounded out and pass them back,” he ordered. The warriors began grabbing the fallen and hauling them back to the front of the trail. Sarchise also had the tired warriors move back and replaced by fresh ones. In the narrow confines of the trail the gremlins could only advance two to five abreast and the arrows would stop most of them.

  The screech of wounded gremlins and the clash of metal and metal on bone echoed through the forest. Time and time again, the gremlins would charge, just to be driven back. Those gremlins who did not fall from the arrows, met battle axes and swords. The dwarves were standing their ground, but more and more wounded and dead were passed to the back and there were no more fresh troops to put in the front. The gremlins would crash through one line of dwarves just to be met by another line just behind the first. Sarchise and Hemlot joined the front troops to stabilize the line. Sarchise could swing his sword over the heads of the front line of dwarves.

  In another fierce charge, Hemlot fell. Sarchise could not tell where he had been wounded, but he saw that he was bleeding badly. He reached down and pulled Hemlot clear and handed him to the arms of the warriors behind the front line. They dragged him back to the healer. The archers were running out of arrows. All of the arrows were passed forward and used. They were trying to conserve, but this was letting more gremlins through and causing more casualties among the dwarves.

  Sarchise roared over the din of battle. “I need twenty fresh troops.” As the warriors gathered right behind the line Sarchise commanded them. “We are going to rush forward. You in the rear will rush forward with the twenty, but you will pull arrows out of the ground and gremlins on your way. When we yell again, we give ground and you need to retreat and hand the arrows to the archers. Everyone understand?” He was met with nods. He held his sword high into
the air and yelled “Charge!”

  At first the gremlins were surprised at the sudden onslaught, and fell back. With war cries the dwarves came forward. Always better at attacking than defending, the dwarves mowed down the stunned enemy. The initial shock soon wore off and the gremlins started holding their ground. Sarchise saw that it was no longer worth the cost. “Fall back, fall back.” He commanded. Several gremlins rushed him and threw him to the ground. He felt a sharp pain in his left arm as a gremlin stabbed him. The gremlins were cleared off of him by a strong swing of a battle-axe. Hands grabbed Sarchise and started dragging him back. He was able to regain his feet and was saying, “I’m alright, I’m alright, ” but nobody looking at the blood coming from his arm believed him. Sarchise looked up to see that the gremlins that filled the void of the dwarf retreat were met with a hail of recaptured arrows. He smiled within himself and let himself be pulled back to the healers.

  The trail was longer than he remembered, mainly because in the turmoil he had forgotten to have the axe men stop working. The extra room was full of wounded however. Moans and groans filled the air. He saw Hemlot leaning against a tree. He was as white as a sheet and had a fresh mudpack over his chest. He glanced up at Sarchise and said, “Just a scratch, I’ll be alright in a minute or two.” With that, he slumped down and went to sleep.

  A healer sat Sarchise on a stump and ripped open his torn tunic. Blood was thick in the torn cloth. The healer washed the wound clean and with one hand held the flesh back around the bone while he stitched it in place with the other hand.

  “How is Hemlot?” Sarchise asked the healer.