by M. K. Gibson
“In a matter of days, I met him and fought alongside him, earning his trust. I have turned him to my way of thinking. I killed his girlfriend, implicating another. In doing so, I’ve severed his ties here and bent his mind toward murder. Now I have him rushing headlong into battle to kill his own father. And I did it such a way that I will most likely have the full power of the elvish nation behind me in an assault.”
“Huh. OK, that’s why you are the master,” Zachariah said with a bow of his head.
“Thank you. But you still have not explained why you seek to bring down your brother.”
“Viktor? You’ve met him, right?”
“Of course.”
“Then you know he’s an idiot.”
“Naturally. While I abhor stupidity—and I confess my own idiotic sibling is destined for the grave when I am through with this quest—that is not necessarily reason enough for a death sentence.”
“Because I’m the elder brother, damn it!” Zachariah barked.
I shushed him and looked around to make sure we hadn’t drawn too much attention.
Zachariah lowered his voice. “I was groomed to rule the Eastern Empire. I excelled in combat training and magical studies. I learned about taxation and economy. But my late parents, may they rot in the pit, were also just as dumb as Viktor. They thought his tantrums and childish power displays reminded them of them. Instead of taking the time to learn, he used shortcuts. So my baby brother was anointed as the heir apparent and I was cast aside.”
“So you wish to rule?”
“Yes.”
“Intelligently?”
“Of course. A happy populace makes it easier to steal from them.”
Interesting. “Then assist me, and I will place you on the throne. My deals with your brother will stand with you. Do you accept?”
Zachariah eyed me suspiciously. “What’s your angle? What do you gain from this?”
“Many things. But do not worry about that for now. I will place you upon the throne to rule the Eastern Empire. You will have your birthright. I will act as an adviser for payments in gold. Do you accept?” I asked a second time.
“Yes. I accept. What do you need from me?”
“Three things. First, I need you to say farewell to Hawker. He is no longer your protégé. I need him focused and not looking for a mentor’s approval.”
“Why?”
Because juggling an extra character along the remainder of this adventure is too much.
“Because I said so,” I stated. When Zachariah nodded his head, I continued, “Second, I need intelligence on his lieutenants, General Anders and Chaud.”
“What do you need to know?”
“Everything.”
“Fine. Anders is, as I suspect you already know, a half-giant from the Fire clan. She is equally beautiful and powerful. But she is arrogant and demanding. I think most of her troops would get out of the way and let the enemy attack her, given how she treats them. When she is not in Al’ Garrad, she resides in her private island fortress Fyrheim, where she oversees all her battle engagements.”
“How does she manage that?”
“Because of the real threat,” Zachariah said. “The real power in Viktor’s empire.”
“Chaud,” I said.
“Yes, Chaud,” he confirmed. “The archmage is the only remnant of my parents’ ruling council. And in truth, the only reason they stayed in power.”
“Go on,” I said.
“While my parents flaunted their power, imprisoned and tortured their enemies, built statues of themselves, and basically made the land a living hell for those who lived there, Chaud was the one who really ran the empire. He negotiated imports and exports with pirates. He secured funds from oversea banking institutions and kept crops growing through magical means. Chaud kept the empire’s enemies at bay with displays of his magical abilities, and he ensured he had a place in my brother’s regime.”
“And how does this tie into General Anders?”
“Chaud was the one who facilitated it all. He installed seeing stones in her fortress, allowing her to see and give commands to her forces all across the land. Chaud installed teleportation portals for her to dispatch her forces. They also allow her to return to Al’ Garrad when summoned. I assume the same is true for Chaud in his private sorcerer tower. But no one knows where that is.”
“I see. So it sounds like the only way to sneak back into Al’ Garrad is to go through one of these portals?”
“Yes.”
“Excellent,” I said, seeing a plan form in my mind. “I bet you know where Chaud’s tower is.”
He laughed. “I do.”
“Then where is it?”
“What’s in it for me?” Zachariah asked.
“Other than your brother’s kingdom?”
“I will owe you a favor. A favor from the Shadow Master.”
Zachariah told me the location and I committed it to memory.
“You said you had three demands of me. What is the third?”
“You are to travel to the west as my emissary to Countess Skullgrim. Extend to her my warmest regard and offer her a chance to destroy her ex-husband’s lands.”
“You mean my lands-to-be?”
“Do not worry,” I assured Zachariah. “The Countess and I have a strange past. But she will not raze the lands. She would love nothing more than to strike at her ex-husband.”
“Well, it would be good to see her again,” Zachariah said.
“Oh?”
Zachariah smiled. “You didn’t know? The reason they divorced in the first place was because Viktor found us in bed together. He may have gotten the empire, but I slept with his wife.”
“You are quite the villain,” I said approvingly.
“Thank you, Shadow Master.”
“How long had you had the affair with her?”
“Oh, let’s see . . . when did it start? Oh yes. Their wedding night.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
Where I Try to Move This Along, but Certain People Refuse to Let Me
For the sake of brevity, let me give you the bullet points: After the funeral, we got a bunch of gifts from the elves and a cryptic warning from a deity and discovered an ingenious way to travel hundreds of miles to the live arctic volcano island that served as General Anders’s lair.
But trust me, it’s better to skip over everything to keep the pace going.
What?
Seriously?
You subscribe to that nonsense that it’s better to show a reader than tell a reader information?
How did you get through high school or college? Was the lack of pop-up-book-based curriculum hard for you? You know, to stimulate the visual cortex of your moronic mind. Were the tests too hard?
Oh, never mind. Odds are, if you’re reading this dreck, you never finished college anyway.
Fine.
Dumbass.
********
One week after the funeral, my companions and I stood on a remote beach on the banks of the Lower Elder River on the very edge of the Whispering Woods, as the Ceremony of Blessings was conducted. Talisarian’de, Lord Protector of the Whispering Woods, conducted the speech in high elvish while his keeper of the chronicles translated them into the common tongue. Which is English, in case you non-tabletop gaming nerds can’t wrap your heads around that.
The last week to ourselves wasn’t exactly beneficial to our fellowship. The time allowed them to consider me and what I was. They knew, now, that I was a villainous person. But they didn’t see me as evil. And since each of them had a dark side, or a troubled past, my villainy was like a beacon. They circled me like moths to a flame. I simply kept my distance and remained silent. They would come to me.
They always did.
Yes, we would have a major discussion about who I was and what I do. But when that time came, I would ensure I spun it such a way that I came out as a dark hero in their eyes.
Hawker alone remained impervious to my allure. He wa
s in a dark place following the death of his beloved and the revelation of his family lineage. But this was not my first time in this arena. Hawker would, in time, seek out a mentor—which was one of my main reasons for sending Zachariah away for the remainder of our journey.
I would be that mentor. And if he would not come to me, then I would bide my time and pick the right moment to engage him.
Corruption, when done right, is satisfying and delicious. But all things in their due time. We had a ceremony to complete and gifts to receive.
We stood in a formal line with the river bank behind us while flowers and leaves gently fell, thanks to the Treesingers lulling the trees into wishing us a safe journey. The Lord Protector honored our group as allies of the elves and decreed our names be written as friends to the forest, granting us free passage in the lands of the elves for all time.
If I knew I could get a lifetime free pass from the elves for killing one of them and framing another, I would have done it a long time ago. But I also knew elves. They would find a reason to rescind that gift in a moment’s notice.
Talisarian’de approached each of us in turn. Behind him, his Keeper of the Chronicles stood maintaining records of the interactions. Behind the Keeper, several elves stood with new clothing and weapons in their arms.
The Lord Protector switched to the common tongue. “Wren, Ammalar of Vammar, leave these woods in peace, a friend of the elves,” the Lord Protector declared as he made the sign of the leaf before the big warrior. “Your past transgressions are pardoned by the will of Valliar. No more are you a servant of the dark forces. You path now shines bright and forgiveness is your end.”
The Keeper of the Chronicles passed Wren an elegant set of combat robes of dark blue and dark red, the colors of Vammar.
“Thank you,” Wren bowed.
“Go in peace,” Talisarian’de said, returning the bow.
Next, the Lord Protector moved to Carina and once again made the sign of the leaf. “Carina, lost child of the Twilight Guard. Leave these woods in peace, a friend of the elves. You cannot be held responsible for the union of your parents, no matter how bizarre or unnatural. Find your own path and the light of Valliar be upon you.”
Wow. Even when he was being benevolent, the Lord Protector was kind of a backhanded dick.
The Keeper of the Chronicles passed Carina a new set of clothes that accentuated her feminine form, with divided skirts for combat and a tight top. The cloth was tan and brown elvish silk and meant to represent her human and dwarvish parentage.
Carina bowed as the Lord Protector moved to Lydia.
“Lydia Barrowbride, leader of the defunct Forgotten Bastards, leave these woods in peace.”
That gave me pause. The Lord Protector omitted the sign of the leaf as well as the affirmation of “a friend of the elves.” In his own aristocratic way, Talisarian’de just gave Lydia the finger and told her to get the hell out of his woods forever.
To Lydia’s credit, she showed restraint. Rather than an attack with one of her hidden knives, she simply nodded in a small bow. She never took her eyes off the tall elf.
As the Lord Protector moved past her, the Keeper of the Chronicles handed Lydia clothes of modest make, which only the lowest-born elvish people wore. Last, The Keeper handed her a small bushel of nuts and berries.
“Our apologies for the cut of the clothing,” the Keeper said. “But we seldom get females with your . . . posterior measurements. Forgive the tightness, but the food of the elves should assist you in the future for a better fit.”
“Oh fuck you,” I said before I realized the words had come out of my mouth.
“Excuse me?” the Keeper said, while the Lord Protector feigned disinterest.
“No, I will not. Lady Barrowbride is fine as she is. The only reason she hasn’t punctured your precious skin in several vital areas is because she has shown more class and dignity as a thieves’ guild leader than any of you. You disdain for humans aside, your body shaming of a woman with an ass is ludicrous. Most of you malnourished, scrawny snobs could use a little extra ass.”
“Your opinion is noted, Shadow Master,” Talisarian’de said.
After our standoff, the Lord Protector moved on to Hawker. The young warrior stood with his eyes down, not looking at anyone. Only his feet held his gaze, yet intensity radiated from him in palpable waves of seething anger.
“Kyle Hawker,” the Lord Protector said in a booming, yet more cordial tone than any of the rest of received. “Friends of the elves this past year. We have come to accept you as one of our own. Accept these gifts as a friend to the elves.”
The Keeper presented Hawker with a new elvish sword and magnificent green and gold elvish clothing and armor. As the Lord Protector went to make the sign of the leaf, Hawker whispered. “Don’t.”
“Kyle, what is wrong?”
“Did you truly let my ancestors die?” Hawker asked.
“That . . . is difficult to answer, young one. And it was centuries ago. We elves were different then.”
“No, you’re exactly the same now as you were then,” I said, sticking my nose into their conversation.
“Hold your tongue,” the Keeper of the Chronicles spat at me.
“Let him speak,” Hawker demanded. Talisarian’de looked at Hawker and then me, but said nothing.
“Thank you, Kyle,” I said, nodding. “Elves despise technology. In fact, they fear it. Elves are the only reason mankind, as well as the rest of the races, haven’t advanced.”
“What are you saying, Jack?” Carina asked.
“They ensure that you all stay in the exact same state for all time. A state from which they can control the world. Where I come from, there are no elves and the technological and industrial growth of man rivals that of the gods.”
“Enough,” the Lord Protector demanded.
Oh, good luck, pal. In case it isn’t bloody obvious by now, speeches are kind of my thing.
“What do you mean by advance?” Wren asked.
“Silence!” the Lord Protector yelled.
Ignoring him, I continued. “A thousand years ago, what were all the races using to fight with?” I asked aloud.
“Swords, armor, and siege weapons, the same as now,” Lydia said.
“Exactly,” I said. “Why?”
“What else could there possibly be?”
“Oh, so much more, my dear Lydia.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Where I Shine a Light on Fantasy Tropes and Go Swimming
Go back and read, or watch, ninety percent of books and movies. They always seem to have the same line: “A thousand-plus years ago . . . ”
Whatever was going on back then was exactly the same in the current time. Wizards, armor, and swords. It was like their gods kept them from ever advancing past the corollary middle ages. And the few that did were then struck by a great cataclysm, which effectively hit the reset button.
Consider the master JRR. The elves talk about the Battle of the Ring three thousand years prior to the Fellowship. And since then, nothing had advanced. In real-world human history, we went from achieving flight with only the most rudimentary understanding of electricity to landing on the moon in less than seventy years.
The reason for this disparity is very simple. In fantasy realms, the gods and their children, the elves, refuse to allow advancement.
“In my lands,” I said to the group, making sure I smiled while looking at the Lord Protector, “mankind has discovered how to harness lightning for power to run great and terrible machinery. We have carriages that fly through the sky. And, in only one hundred years of our time, those carriages reached the stars. We have machines that print books in the thousands, replacing scribes, and our vast libraries of knowledge are shared by all through wondrous devices called computers. In addition to sharing every scrap of knowledge ever written down, they allow us to communicate over vast distances instantly without the need of letters. I know you think I am only speaking in campfire tales, but i
t is true. And the people of the Eld knew this as well. Their advancement in science and medicine were a threat to the elves. So they were eliminated.”
“Leave these woods,” the Lord Protector growled through clenched teeth as he threw my gift of clothing and short swords to the ground.
“So, no formal sign of the leaf? No blessing for me either?”
“Valliar himself has marked you as a disruptor of the peace. Your existence is a blight on all sentient creatures. Your very mind, coupled with your actions, sickens, offends and corrupts. It is against the will of Valliar to wish death upon any creature that is redeemable. But in your case, I see only a lowly human boy scared of his betters who surrounds himself in webs of corruption and lies. Therefore, I wish you nothing but misery until the end of your pathetic days.”
I smiled. At least that was an honest moment.
But I was not the kind of person to not have the last word.
“Your allegiance to yourselves over every other race in the realms retards the growth of all. Were it in my power, I would see your entire race burned alive in your very woods.”
“Sadly, little man, it is not in your power,” Talisarian’de said. “Valliar protects us.”
“For now,” I said, smiling at the tall elf. “For now. But there will come a time when Valliar will not be there for you. I’ll make sure of it. And I will make sure the entire world knows of your sins.”
“Until that day, Shadow Master.”
“Until that day, Lord Protector.”
The Lord Protector turned and walked away. His coterie of nobles and sycophants followed, leaving us there on the banks of the Lower Eld.
“Talisarian’de!” Hawker called out.
The Lord Protector paused. He turned his head back slightly to regard the young man. “What?”
