by RG Long
“War has found us,” Holve said. “I do not have to tell you of the strange appearance of the Dark Comet in the sky. I’m sure you have noticed over the past few years how intently it grows and how close it appears to come to Gillia.”
“What do the movements of the heavens have to do with wars you have caused?” the woman who sat at the far left asked.
“These wars have not been caused by us,” Holve said. “Surely this continent has seen its share of daemonic activity? Those who walk in purple flame have not made their presence known here?”
The High Council said nothing of this. Instead, Hirgur took a step forward and spoke as if he were a member of the council itself.
From all looks of things, Gorplin thought. He was.
“Those wreathed in purple flames are spoken of ancient lore and fairytales, meant to scare children and frighten men. This is not what we speak of. And though your tale had much of it, I doubt it was true. Rather, you see an excuse to wage war. To frighten others with tales of otherworldly beings while you yourself gain from conflict.”
The High Council members nodded at this and looked from side to side at one another.
Holve put up his hands and looked at both of them before speaking.
“If you can tell me what I have gained from war and conflict other than scars and the loss of friends, I would love to hear it. We have not gained. We have only sacrificed. And the war has followed us; peace has come in its wake.”
Madame Washburn scoffed at this.
“What good is peace if it is only gained by war? We in Darc have long sought to avoid conflict and war, and yet you bring it here. Already there are talks of airships flying over our country. With them will come the Court of Three and their maniacal dealings. It seems all they want is you. Or so your story has gone.”
“To this point, our only endeavor on Redact has been to go to Rerial,” Holve said. “We have been delayed by circumstance and your own doing. We would leave now were there any ships in Darc heading that way.”
“And if there were ships going to Rerial from Darc,” Madame said. “They would be apprehended or never allowed to find its port here again.”
Holve held up his hands.
“You charge us with war, and yet here we stand peacefully in front of you. What would you have us do?”
Madame Washburn looked at Hirgur. The cat looked down at her quickly before nodding.
“This is the order that comes directly from His Majesty in the High Tower. He is the final authority in Darc, and we bow to his will. We would send you to Galin for the crimes of spying and treason. Already there are rumors of war to the west and in Severn and Taystone. If Rerial and the Court of Three are in conflict again, we can only assume that you have had lied to both of us about your endeavors here on Redact.”
“What is this madness?” Holve asked. “What proof do you have that we have committed any such crimes?”
Madame Washburn nodded and one of the guards. From the corner of the council chamber, a guard brought someone who was almost unconscious. He was nearly dragged out to the dais. As soon as the soldier let go of him, he crashed to the ground at Gorplin and Holve’s feet. The man was not someone Gorplin recognized.
Serinde stepped forward.
“This is the man who attacked us outside a brothel,” she said. “What does he have to do with this?”
“And they use unnatural magic!” he said weakly, pointing at Alma. “I saw with my own eyes. They nearly killed me; they did.”
“They should’ve killed you,” Silverwolf said with her arms crossed.
“Your story of going from continent to continent as well as this man’s testimony of your behavior in our city tells us you are spies of the worst account, seeking personal gain from war and conflict. We will not have you in our city nor will we allow you to walk free from it!”
“Guards! Arrest them and ship them to Galin! May they sail there and never again see the light of Redact or the suns of Gilia!”
The guard lowered their spears as they began to take steps for the group.
Madame Washburn shouted again.
“Surrender your weapons and no one will die here in this chamber of the High Council!”
“Are we done waiting?” Silverwolf asked.
Gorplin saw Holve stand up straight.
“This is a decision you will regret,” he said, looking at the High Council. Then he turned his attention behind them.
“Alma?”
The girl did not need instruction.
Gorplin saw the markings on her body glow bright red as she pointed her hand at the nearest wall. An arc of red energy exploded through her and the wall burst away into the street outside of it. With another flick of her hand, the arc danced between their group and struck down the guards where they stood.
“Now!” Holve said as the High Council and Madame Washburn shrieked at the Skrilx who stood beside them. Most of them dodged to the side to avoid the blast.
As one, the group ran through the whole Alma had made them. Gorplin heard Serinde urging Alma to follow them. The girl still glowed with power. The elf had just barely managed to make her move when the trumpets sounded just beyond the gates of the High Council’s section of the city.
The military was ready to respond to the threat that had just escaped the High Council’s Chamber. Soldiers came running through the gates, armed and ready to attack whatever was running away from the chamber.
Gorplin took his ax from his holster and readied himself for anything the guards might throw their way.
“Let me borrow Edgar!” Serinde said as she came up behind him with Alma in tow. Gorplin didn’t have time to answer before the elf had drawn the sword from his back and held it up above her head.
“East!” Holve yelled as the soldiers came pouring in. “Head east!”
Gorplin, Serinde, and Alma began to fight their way through a mass of guards as Holve, Felecia and Wisym got bogged down by another group. They were being separated. Silverwolf was in between both sets before Gorplin lost sight of her.
Then he saw Alma glow again.
“Down!” the girl commanded.
Gorplin didn’t think twice about obeying. He hit the ground hard and covered his head with hands. The energy that burst over them shook the ground as Gorplin tried to stay as low as he could. He heard the yell and screams of soldiers as they went flying.
“Run!” Alma ordered.
“Bah!” Gorplin grunted as he got to his feet again, gripping his ax and looking around for enemies. “On my feet or not, lass. Choose one!”
30: The Evasive and The Loosed
Wisym ran through the streets just behind her companions. The soldiers who pursued them were relentless. Through streets and alleys, they came behind them. It seemed to Wisym that more and more soldiers were joining their enemies as they ran. A whole company of the army of Perin must be chasing after them.
What did the city of Darc have so many warriors for? If they were as peaceful as they claimed to be, they certainly had a very large standing army.
Most of whom it felt like were pursuing this group through the streets.
Wisym wished she had more time to consider what was going on. Why the Skrilx appeared to be a part of the High Council of Darc. Why the Council was so determined to ship them off to Galin, that continent that served as a prison, without so much as a trial. Why airships had been flying over Redact.
But all of these thoughts were pushed out of her mind at the moment. The most important thing they could do right now was to survive.
Street lights were lit still only several blocks in the city of Perin. Though they were unable to find their way in the light, they were forced to go from light to light. No guards with a torch led them this time. They fled on memory alone.
And all the while they were attempting to make their way east, as Holve as said.
The main street was still empty ahead of them. They kept running as hard as they could. Wisym looked over her shoulder. She saw
that no fewer than fifty to sixty guards were coming down at them. So not the whole army, but certainly enough to keep them occupied for a long time. The only thing that kept them away at this point was the fact that most of the army was wearing armor of some sort, whereas their group was more lightly armed.
Besides that, their saving grace was Alma.
With her at their side, they could be able to resist the guards for much longer than without her. A fact Wisym was extremely aware of as she ran behind Alma, trying to protect her from any harm that might come her way.
“This way!” Holve shouted as they ran down the streets. More and more of the city flew past them as they came closer to the wall that enclosed the whole of the city in. They crossed a lane and went into the more alleys of the city, coming up closer and closer to the wall.
Wisym knew that they were running out of space and hoped Holve had a plan in place. Or at least the idea of a plan. They needed a good strategy in order to make it out of this one.
Serinde and Gorplin were right in front of Alma. Wisym heard feet pounding not only from behind them but also coming from the side. The soldiers of the city weren’t just following them.
“Holve!” Wisym shouted, hoping to get his attention quickly. “They’re surrounding us! From the right!”
The older man looked over his shoulder and nodded. He couldn’t hear them yet, Wisym knew her elf ears were aiding in that, but he could understand their danger. If the soldiers were on two sides of them and the wall was in the front, they were in for trouble.
“Alma!” Holve shouted. “Get us through the wall!”
As they turned a corner, Wisym caught a glimpse of the wall ahead of them. It loomed up about the height of two men over them. It was not the largest wall they’d ever tackled before, but certainly enough to keep them tied in.
Arcs of red energy burst from Alma as she pointed her hand at the wall. Where her normal-sized, human hand had been just a moment ago, a large and longer red column of energy protruded. She sliced through the air, and the arc went right through the wall, creating an expanse just large enough for them to breakthrough. The material in between the wall spilled out into the rocky area beyond.
They were going to make it out of the city.
Wisym was so focused on getting through the portal beyond that she didn’t sense anything was wrong until Alma dropped to the ground.
“Lass!” Gorplin shouted, picking her up as they ran.
Wisym shoved the dwarf and girl out of the way as another rock came down from above the wall in their direction. The first had grazed Alma’s head; the second had nearly crushed Gorplin’s skull.
Another rock came down on their group as soldiers along the wall came to keep their group from escaping. Wisym knew their group would have no luck getting past these guards without help. She leaped onto the next barrel they saw and grabbed hold of a window sill of a house, vaulting herself up to the roof.
From her vantage point up here, she could see that the second group of guards that were trailing them were behind a large group of barrels. They were having difficulty clearing it out from their path.
The soldiers who were trailing them were just a bit behind. Serinde and Silverwolf stood at the hole in the wall as Holve, Gorplin, Alma, and Felecia squeezed through. It looked like they would make it. All they needed was a little more time.
Running along the edge of the rooftops, she came to the top of the wall just as her friends made it to the hole Alma had made. Leaping from the rooftop to the edge of the wall, Wisym drew her blades and landed gracefully on the defensive structure.
“Elf on the wall!” came a shout from one of the guards who was holding rocks. The others turned, even as they prepared to throw them down on their group.
At least she knew she had their attention.
About ten guards threw their loads in her direction before drawing out their spears and coming at Wisym. She was ready.
One man threw his spear at her, but she neatly dodged it. Foolish. Now he had no weapon.
Two men came up close to her and tried to stab her with their spears, but she dodged them as well, slicing away the tip of one of their polearms with one of her blades. The other man tried to back away but tripped and fell on his companions.
Wisym was a flurry. Now she was close enough that her swords had the advantage over their spears. Ducking in and out of them, Wisym put one guard on the ground after another. They were no match for her skill. These were humans who had fought and trained for maybe a decade; she was an elf general. She had been fighting since she was the age of a human teenager and seen a hundred years’ worth of battles.
One last guard rushed at her, and she dodged to the right before she shoved the man over the wall. He yelled in shock as he realized he was being thrown over the defenses.
Wisym looked down and saw that the rest of the group had made it through the wall and were running for the mountains beyond. Running up to the wall where it had split, she pushed down several stones from the top of the wall to block the hole up and prevent the guards who had just arrived at the wall from exiting that way. She smiled as she felt the pride of doing her part to keep her friends safe.
“Loose!” came the cry from just beyond where Wisym could see on the wall. To her horror, several guards let arrows fly towards her companions, running away off to the mountains. She didn’t look to see if any of them fell. She didn’t want to know if they had. Not yet.
Not while she could still do something.
With the guards at her feet disposed of, she ran as quickly as her feet could carry her down the wall to the guards wielding their bows. All she needed was to get to them and distract them. Then they could all get away.
And if she could grab a bow or two off of them, all the better it would be.
“Loose!” came the call again as more arrows went over the edge of the wall and towards the group. Wisym didn’t care if she was close to them or if doing it was going to put her into danger.
She was going to help.
Letting out a yell of fury, she let one of her blades sail through the air. She even chuckled a bit to herself as the sword found its target. Hadn’t she just berated a guard for getting rid of his spear? But he didn’t have another sword on hand.
And she did.
“To the left!” came the call of their commander. Wisym was already there before the first guard had turned around to respond to the threat. He looked down to discover the man next to him, downed by her sword.
The look of shock would stay on the next guard’s face indefinitely.
Wisym was a blur of blades as the guards tried to take her down. Arrows whizzed by her head and body as they attempted to kill the elf who was taking down their battalion.
She was a general of renown. An elf whose name was etched into books and scrolls. Wisym. The general’s daughter.
The captain of the guard who had been firing came running at her; sword held high. A smirk crossed her face. She would easily take care of this one. Then her friends would be free, and she could join them.
“Loose!” came a call, not by the commander running at her, but by guards who stood on the roof just beyond the wall. And they weren’t aiming over at the companions who were running away from the city.
She grabbed a fallen guard’s shield and raised it to her chest just as the arrows came whizzing past her. Several of them found their mark in the shield. One pierced her leg.
“Argh!” Wisym cried as she felt red hot pain seared up her leg.
The commander was on top of her in a moment. She used her sword to parry his first blow, but her footing was off. Every step caused her excruciating pain.
The man was an expert swordsman. They exchanged blow after blow, her using the borrowed shield to deflect his blade and her own sword to attack as she could. The men on the roof probably saw another commander fighting and dared not shoot for fear of hitting him.
Wisym felt more pain as the man’s sword sliced a gash through th
e arm that held the shield. Yelling again, Wisym’s vision turned red with fury.
She used her blade to block another blow and threw the shield at the commander’s body, sending shooting pain through her arm and leg. It was enough. The man reacted by hitting the shield away, which allowed Wisym to put her sword through his stomach.
The man looked shocked as she ran her blade deeper into him. So did Wisym when he drew a small dagger from his belt and thrust it into her side. She screamed as she dropped the man. Pain was radiating up her leg and from her side and arm. But she had to know if she was succeeded in her actions.
Wisym turned to look at the mountains as her friends continued to run. Counting them quickly, she made out four shapes disappearing into the low brush.
Four.
That was enough, right?
The pain in her side was overtaking her thinking. She withdrew her blade from the commander and stood up to get a better look — waves of heat blast through her ribs where the blade had entered. Her breathing felt ragged. Her vision was not what it had been for a hundred years. They were gone, right? They had all made it out safely, right?
Wisym prayed they had.
Because the last thing she ever heard as she wished her friends good speed and safe travels was another order.
“Loose!”
31: Opportunity Wasted
Ealrin ran down the hill as quickly as his legs would carry him. He certainly wished that arriving in Darc and meeting up with his friends would have gone a different direction.
But the hum of the airships that were pursuing them reminded him that things hardly went the direction he wanted them to go.
Ealrin was doing his best to run for the trees that were up ahead of them. That was their best hope. To find shelter in the trees and be able to get out of the sight of the airships. The only problem was the space of plains in between them.
As he ran, he looked even further and could see both mountains and scant trees, but he knew they would be unable to make it to them in time the airship continued to zoom down on them. The copse of trees ahead was the best hope they had. Looking over his shoulder, he could see that there were two airships heading in their direction.
