Clans of Irradan

by RG Long

  Wisym stole a glance at Teresa. She was not looking at the stars, nor the beautiful moons of Gilia. Her eyes were fixed on one thing alone.

  “It's been marred by that terrible thing,” she said as she glared at the Dark Comet that floated above them, burning a dark purple as it had been doing for months now. “A blight on our evenings.”

  Rophilborn said nothing to this. Wisym wondered what he might be considering or contemplating in his mind. She was also struck with another thought. How old was this venerable emperor of elves? None seemed to remember a time before he ruled in Pahyrst. Yet there were others before him.

  Weren't there?

  “The priests who fill my city would not say so,” he stated calmly. “They worship the burning orb.”

  “Perhaps they don't know what it's capable of,” Teresa replied, bitterness and malice deep in her tone. “I've seen the horrors that come from it.”

  “Have you, now?” Rophilborn asked, seemingly intrigued. He reminded Wisym of a parent who asks questions of a child to which they assume answers.

  “Yes,” Teresa said, taking her gaze away from the Comet and staring hard at Rophilborn. Had she fixed her with that gaze, Wisym would have taken a step back. General though she was, she was no royalty or princess. There was an authority in Teresa's look that she could never replicate. It was the face of a queen.

  Rophilborn, however, didn't move.

  “I brought you here to speak of the Comet,” he said casually, as if Teresa weren't staring knives into him, wishing him a painful death.

  "This thing in the sky causes many to ponder why it's here. Some say it's an omen of ill. Others say it is something sacred to be worshiped. The elves of Enoth have long looked to the sky to determine our path. The stars on our banners are more than decorations. We use the starry heavens to tell us our way forward. It was this Comet that showed in the sky when I conquered a small rebellion of elves a hundred years ago. It was a sign. A sign that Enoth was meant to rule over all other elves on Irradan."

  He looked at the two of them in turn. Wisym noticed a gleam in his eyes that she had seen once before. Right when he had tortured Eren for information she either did not have or refused to give.

  "This Comet is a blessing on my empire," he continued. "And now we have reached the time when all shall be fulfilled. The Comet is connected with another thing that I seek."

  Rophilborn turned and opened the lone door. He paused a moment at it, then faced them again.

  "You must be weary from the climb. I will have food and blankets sent up to you. After you've eaten and rested, I want to show you something."

  With these words, he left them standing on the tower. Wisym sat on one of the benches, but Teresa stood where she was, staring at the door.

  "Nothing he wants to show us can be good," she said with contempt. Slowly, she began to pace the tower. Wisym looked up at the stars above and was in awe of their beauty. She agreed with Teresa, however. The Comet was a blight on the otherwise beautiful sight. Perhaps someone who hadn't seen the horrors that had descended from it might think it could be an object of worship or blessing.

  She knew better.

  "They're made to worship that thing," Teresa said, voicing Wisym's own thoughts.

  A group of servants came through the door with plates of food and blankets to keep them warm.

  Pampered though they were, Wisym couldn't wait for the day when she was free of Enoth. Silently, she began to think of a way to escape. The only problem was their companion. They hadn't seen Eren since arriving and it was beginning to worry Wisym.

  What was the thing Rophilborn wanted to show them? She sighed deeply as she looked to the stars. The Comet's outer edge began to change from purple to a deep orange.

  THE TWO WERE ESCORTED back down the long staircase shortly after the suns began their morning ascent. Sleeping on the top of the observation tower had been pleasant, but Wisym was now very willing to go back down to their chamber. When they reached the bottom of the stairs, it appeared that she would have to wait awhile longer to see their bedroom.

  Rophilborn was waiting for them as they descended. His arms were crossed and he looked as if he had slept little. Several guards accompanied him, as Wisym had expected.

  “Follow me,” he said without introduction or explanation. Wisym wondered what their lesson would be this time.

  As many stairs as they had climbed yesterday, it felt to Wisym like they were walking down twice as many. Down, down they went as they passed corridor after corridor. The hallways became less decorated and full of golden statues and beautiful paintings. Soon they were walking in hallways of dark stone and dim Rimstone light.

  Wisym was remembering that the capital had been built into the top of a mountain. Were they now down inside the rock of it? She had time to think, but not to really take it in. Her legs were beginning to ache as they remembered yesterday's work and struggled against the climbs of the current day.

  “Further down than I ever remember,” Teresa said as they came to the bottom of another stair that led into a very long hallway. A smooth floor was in front of them and an arched ceiling was several feet above them. Every twenty paces, a Rimstone lantern hung from a pillar. In between these pillars stood large metal doors. They had no windows and, to Wisym's surprise, no handles either. It was if someone had placed a large metal piece where the door was supposed to go but hadn't bothered to add the other necessary parts.

  Or had intentionally left them out.

  Rophilborn stopped at one of these portals and waved his hand. The metal door swung open on invisible hinges. Wisym saw that it was a hand width thick. He motioned for them to enter first and they reluctantly did so. Wisym had to cover her mouth to keep from gagging.

  A horrible stench came from the room.

  Wisym registered several things at once. There were several stone benches that ran perpendicular to the door. Along the wall were several chains and restraints mounted to the stone there. A roughhewn wooden table lay before them with three black iron tiaras on it. Two cabinets stood at the back of the chamber, both unopened, but rather battered looking. And chained to one of the benches, lying flat on her back, was Eren.

  She looked terrible.

  Her stomach was sunken in and her ribs were easily visible. The hair that she had kept short was now growing out and appeared to be matted in places. Many bruises and cuts were evident on her legs, chest, and arms. One was still bleeding slowly. At the sight of Rophilborn entering the room, she tensed her muscles and pulled on the chains that bound her wrists and feet.

  Wisym was sick. While they had been pampered and treated to luxury, Eren had been near starved and chained to a stone seat.

  “Release her!” Wisym said to Rophilborn as he entered the room, several guards following behind him.

  “As soon as I have what I want,” he said as he came to the table and ran a hand along it. “You will all leave here, free.”

  Teresa had obviously decided she could take no more. She lashed out at the emperor, who stretched a hand towards her and restrained her in midair. A tendril of blue light crept from the jewel in the crown he wore towards her frozen form. Teresa was struggling against the magical restraints he had put on her, but couldn't move.

  Wisym acted without a plan. She grabbed for a crown on the table and threw it at the emperor elf. It crashed into the wall behind him as he deflected it with another tendril of magic. Then Wisym herself was caught in his grasp.

  “The animal has not yet given me the location of a very special object,” he said, straining against the flow of magic coursing from him. “I will acquire it. And you two will serve alongside me as we go to get it.”

  “You think we'd willingly go along with any plan you have, foul scum!?” Teresa shouted, her mouth moving with great effort. Wisym was impressed despite herself. She couldn't so much as open her own mouth.

  “No,” Rophilborn said as he changed the position of his hands slightly. Wisym felt her body go limp
, as if a string had been wound around her arms and that were the only thing holding her up. The emperor nodded to his guards, who came forward and dragged both of them over to benches on either side of Eren.

  “You've been unwillingly assisting me while pampered and pleasured,” Rophilborn said. “And the animal hasn't given me what I desire through more forceful means.”

  Wisym didn't have to guess what he meant by that. Whips and rods lined the wall opposite her own stone bench that the guards were now chaining her to. Heavy chains lay across her chest and weighed her down. She felt the release of Rophilborn's magic from her and the ability to move her own limbs came back to her. It was no use, however. Her restraints were too heavy for her to lift even her arms.

  She looked over to the side and met Eren's eyes. She saw pain unimaginable in them. Had this poor elf really been tortured while they slept in comfort in the same palace? The thought wrecked Wisym.

  “If you will not tell me the location of what I desire,” Rophilborn said as he stood over them. “You will show me.”

  Three priests in black robes entered the room, chanting in a dark tongue Wisym didn't recognize. Rophilborn joined in their incantation, his hand outstretched over the table. Each priest picked up an iron tiara and brought it over to the head of the three of them. They stood there, chanting, and held the tiaras above the heads of the three of them. A radiant blue light was emanating from each.

  “If not willing servants in spirit,” Rophilborn said in the common tongue. “Then slaves to my power.”

  Wisym felt the tiara being placed on her head and saw a flash of brilliant color explode in her vision. And then, very faintly as if from a far, distant land, she heard her name being called. The voice that called out was pleasant and strong.

  “Wisym of Talgel,” it said. “It's time.”

  19: Horritoft

  Blume was tired of walking. Granted, she had done her fair share in the past, but it had been with company she actually enjoyed. Though she was learning much from the assassin who had traveled with her from Ruyn, she was getting tired of being beaten every time they practiced dueling. Blume was just not good with a sword or dagger. Or, in their lessons, a stick. Silverwolf still refused to let her duel with a real blade, citing that she didn't want Blume to accidentally cut off her own hand.

  Something that would have been far more likely if she could ever get the hang of parrying or attacking like Silverwolf taught her.

  Then there was Amrolan. The elf was amicable enough, but all he wanted to do lately was read the book Blume had taken from Jurgon's pack. When asked what he was doing in the forest before he met them and why he would willingly abandon that mission to come with them and read a book, he simply ignored her question or told her it was beyond her thinking.

  Blume was ready to be away from these two, yet knew she wouldn't last long in the wilderness between the forest of the elves and the empire without them. She was careful not to voice this thought out loud, however, and maintained that she was more than capable without her two companions.

  But there were friends who needed saving and imperial scouts to avoid.

  At the mouth of their cave, the three of them narrowly avoided a confrontation. Had the scout possessed more skill in tracking, Amrolan claimed they would have been discovered and leapt upon by a host of imperial soldiers. Fortunately for them, however, the elf had only been making a quick sweep of the area and didn't pay much attention to what looked like the work of some animal.

  That very morning, they quickened their pace and put both Silverwolf and Amrolan's skills of traveling without being detected to the test. They traveled at night and slept during the day, hidden in fields of grass or in the hollows of uprooted trees. A watch was kept by the two older adults, who now refused to let Blume watch on her own, for fear that she fall asleep or be overwhelmed by a cunning elf.

  “And I thought Ealrin was bad,” Blume said under her breath as they walked during the third night since leaving the cave behind them.

  “What's that?” Silverwolf asked as she inspected the ground for tracks or signs of traveling prisoners. For the last few days, they had been following the tracks of a cart that had left the forest by the route they had followed the elves. The Wrents had only driven them slightly off track. They were now back on the trail.

  “I said,” Blume replied, trying to recover. “Which way did Ealrin go?”

  She raised an eyebrow at her, but Blume kept her gaze. She wasn't going to cower, no matter how much taller or how many people this woman had killed for money. Blume had decided she was never going to stoop to killing people for money.

  Amrolan hopped off Panto and examined the ground next to Silverwolf. He got so close to the ground his nose nearly touched the dirt. Silverwolf stood up and looked both left and right. Then down at Amrolan.

  “They stopped here,” she said. “Not long, but for a time. Looks like they met someone who was waiting. Then whoever was waiting left with them.”

  “West,” Amrolan said, standing to his feet as well. “Not to Pahyrst. But Horritoft.”

  “Why do these elves have to give their cities such odd names?” Blume asked, moving forward to stand between the two. She looked west, in the direction Amrolan was facing. “So, Horritoft, huh?”

  “I would tell you the meaning of the name,” said Amrolan as he mounted Panto once more. “But I do not want you to lose hope for your friend.”

  With those words, they were off again. This time they were headed west and Blume was left pondering the words of the strange elf they had as a guide.

  THE THREE TOWERS OF Horritoft loomed before them the very next evening. A red glow of Rimstone light rose from the city. It was smaller than Blume had thought it might have been. She had envisioned a city as large as Lone Peak, or much larger, for she had heard about the Enoth elves.

  A large wall rose as high as the first layer, circular and dark. The stone was not bright and polished; rather it was gray and menacing. Two more layers of towers rose out of the first. On each flew the banner of Enoth. It was an intimidating sight on the dark plains of the empire.

  “The tracks lead into the city?” Blume asked, hoping her voice didn't betray the fear she felt welling up within her.

  True, she had before been thrown into enemy territory, knowing that any misstep would mean her capture or worse. But this time, it was going to be her decision to fly into danger. Since she no longer had the use of her magic, she suddenly felt less reckless. There was something else welling up inside her, however, that was urging her to go anyway. Ealrin was in there. So was Holve and Jurgon. If they were going to be saved, it was going to have to be them that did it.

  Was this what real bravery felt like? Going to battle even if you weren't sure of victory?

  Blume took a deep steadying breath.

  “So,” she said without her previous hesitation. “What's the plan?”

  “The plan involves you staying put while we find the three who were dumb enough to be caught,” Silverwolf said gruffly.

  “Dumb enough to save me, you mean,” Blume spout back. “I'm going, even if it means kicking your backside the whole way in. I won't be left out here to wonder if you made it, or if you got yourself captured.”

  Silverwolf whipped around before Blume had time to react quickly. But she did react. The blade that stuck to her throat was sharp and real, though it didn't actually press into her skin. Her own hands were holding Silverwolf's wrist tightly.

  The assassin smiled.

  “So,” she said, sheathing her blade. “You have been learning after all. Alright, you're coming.”

  Blume tried to make sure her breathing was steady. Having a knife to one's throat was not a pleasant feeling. Nonetheless, she was proud of herself. She wished she had picked up the art of reacting to being attacked a little sooner. Maybe it would have made Silverwolf more pleasant to be around.

  “Alright, pointy-ears and baby-face,” the white-haired woman said to Blume and Amrola
n. “Leave the bear. I'm the expert in sneaking through a city without being seen. We're doing this my way.”

  Then again, maybe not.

  20: Further Down than In

  As they came to find out, the city of Horritoft was not all it appeared to be on the surface. Silverwolf directed them to follow her with hand signs she taught them before entering the city. Two fingers together meant guards were approaching, stay put. Three fingers meant guards were approaching and to run back quickly.

  There were others, but Blume got lost after the fifth one.

  Which explained the exasperated face Silverwolf was giving her when she didn't take three steps forward when the assassin held out her thumb, index, and middle finger towards her.

  “The point of stealth is moving without a sound,” she hissed. “Talking gets us killed, so learn the damn signs.”

  Blume heard her message loud enough without the additional ear tweak she received.

  Horritoft moved around in a circle from the center gate. They had managed to enter that at the same time as a late-night merchant. A few barrels knocked over at the just the right time caused enough of a diversion to allow them to sneak passed the guards. Now the three moved quickly around the main street of the elven city, which wound in a circle around the perimeter of the wall.

  Inside the walls, there were places for crops to be grown, as well as many houses to accommodate the workers who tilled the land and grew the crops. Most of the windows were darkened. Only a few had the faint glimmer of a candle coming from within. When there weren't fields for food, there were pens for animals. Cows and horses, chickens and goats, all slept within the confines of their fences.

  Apart from these, there were rows upon rows of small dwellings for the citizens of Horritoft. Every now and then a statue would break up the monotony. Most of them were of the same elf, who Blume assumed to be some great leader of the elves. However, perhaps every fifth time, the statue would not be of an elf, but some winged creature. Blume couldn't discern the shape of it. Whereas the courts with the elf statues were lit with torches, it appeared that the others were left in the dark on purpose.