Clans of Irradan

by RG Long

  Until now.

  "You are prepared to take Coriander's place as my general and lead these elves into battle?" he asked.

  "I am prepared to serve," came the reply. "With your teaching, I hope to be a general worthy of Enoth."

  The two continued walking towards the balcony. A low rumbling filled the hall with sound as they approached the opening in the palace side. The morning was breaking through in a brilliant display as the suns rose over the capital of the empire. They reached the edge of the balcony, but did not yet cross over into the light. Sparse clouds covered the horizon in an otherwise clear sky.

  “You will need to prove better in your future endeavors,” Rophilborn said, turning to look into the eyes through holes in the mask. He knew these eyes well. In them he could see both a desire to serve and a passion to please. There was also a small hint of something more. Perhaps the elf still doubted himself.

  Rophilborn furrowed his brow in mild frustration. His plan had not gone exactly how he had anticipated.

  “Your inability to hold those prisoners was a serious error,” he repeated.

  “I...” the elf began in a small voice that was not as commanding as before. “I am not as strong as I should be.”

  The emperor put a hand on his shoulder, steadying the elf as he fumbled with his hands in front of him.

  “I do not doubt your skill on the battlefield. You have proven yourself to be a master there. But Coriander was a greater general still. You must do better than even he could. He led my armies against the rebellion of the south. You have led elves into battle in battles that history will not recall, but were no less important.”

  He took a deep breath and removed his hand.

  “The powerful magic passed down in your Order must be controlled by you. If you train as diligently as you always have, I have no doubt you will become more powerful than even our ancestors,” he said with sincerity.

  This he knew full well. He was willing to wager his life that the elf who stood before him would become powerful one day. Perhaps more so than even he. But he was not there yet. There was still much to teach him. The emperor was a mighty Speaker. Hadn't he proven it with his most recent experiments?

  As if in answer, a guard of six elves approached them. At the head of them were two tall elves dressed in full plate armor that gleamed with the sun. Each bore a halberd in their hands and wore a sword at their side. The stars of the Empire shone from purple cloths that adorned them. The other four were fully armed palace guards, who saluted the emperor when they halted.

  “Ah,” said Rophilborn. “Right on time.”

  He motioned at the guard with his free hand and said to the masked elf, “You will one day have those who are willing to put their own lives under yours.”

  Leading the way into the sun and the balcony, he added softly, “And for those who are not willing, with more training, you will find them bending their will to yours.”

  The pair of them surveyed the sight on the plains outside the city. Thousands of soldiers stood at attention beyond the walls of the great towered city. The banners of each great city of Enoth blew in the gentle morning breeze. Commanders and captains rode their horses up and down the lines of rank and file elves, shouting orders and administering plans.

  A trumpet blew and all fell still as the elves saluted their emperor.

  Rophilborn breathed in deeply.

  Here was an army fit for the task at hand. Before him stood the glory of Enoth. Beyond this army was a land ready to be made whole.

  “For the glory of Enoth,” he said softly.

  “For the glory of Enoth!” came the two female voices from the helmets of the soldiers who stood in full plate behind him. The cry echoed below as thousands lifted up their battle cry.

  Rophilborn turned to face the masked elf and nodded towards the two who were now raising their hands and their voices to praise the Empire.

  “You see?” he said, looking with grim satisfaction at the two new guards. “Perfect submission.”

  24: Unification

  Cuno looked out at the mountain beyond him. A great base from which he might rule his tribe and send them forth. Thousands of Wrents had gathered under his banner, terrified of his strength and willing to follow any who had bested their own leaders.

  Cuno the Unifier. Cuno the Unifier. Cuno the Red-Handed.

  A fire burned inside of him. This time, however, it was not the normal passion to gain strength and bring all the foxes under his banner. It felt like a real fire in his chest. With one paw, he clutched at his breast, with the other he steadied himself against a boulder.

  Pain unimaginable coursed through him. Then, as quickly as it had come it left. Cuno panted several times, then licked his lips and stood upright. He glanced down at the orb lodged into his right paw and saw it pulsing with light and energy.

  The Tenza tribe's downfall had caused him great anguish. Though his united tribe had come to the mountain full of vigor, Cuno had come with barely the ability to walk on his own two legs. For three days, he only rested and ate. Kika cared for him during this time and Cuno allowed it. She brought him fresh meat to eat and made sure he had skins of water to drink. Lacha was always close by whenever she came near to him and Cuno felt that there could be no better arrangement.

  On the morning of the fourth day, this day, Cuno felt rested enough to walk and survey his troops. Word of Tenza tribe's downfall had spread throughout the Wrent lands. Any who remained a part of a lesser tribe or pack had come to swear their loyalty to him. His numbers grew by the day.

  This was the tribe he had seen himself leading. But whenever too many Wrents gathered together for a time, quarrels were soon to break out if left unchecked. Cuno saw a great circle of Wrents forming below. With an effort, he began to walk down in its direction.

  Both Kika and Lacha were at his side in moments.

  “Feel stronger?” Lacha asked him as they descended the mountain's base and walked among the Wrents who had made camp at the bottom.

  “Stronger by far,” Cuno replied. It was true. His strength had returned. Even after that feeling of pain, he felt like there was new power coursing through him. He was Cuno the Red-Handed, unifier of the Wrent tribes. He was strong.

  Wrents who saw him coming parted ways to allow their leader passage. Others who were unfortunate enough to not notice Cuno were either shoved aside by Lacha, or bitten by Kika as he trod along. Finally, after coming to the edge of the circle, Cuno saw what was causing the disturbance.

  Two groups of Wrents were facing off against each other. From what Cuno could tell, it was some of Kika's old tribe, Remo, and Croma. They were snarling at one another and barking loudly. Some had scrapes and cuts on them, while one old Remo Wrent was still inside the circle. She lay on the ground, unmoving and covered in wounds.

  Cuno felt it was time to announce himself properly to these two warring sides. He sent a large pillar of flame into the sky. The heat from it radiated out from around him. Several Wrents ran from the spot with their tails between their legs. Others barked madly at first, then saw what had caused the disturbance and quieted themselves quickly.

  Lacha walked forward into the circle first, clearing a path with his great girth.

  “Move, you dogs,” he declared as Cuno walked into their midst.

  He let some fire remain at his paw, knowing the effect would show the many Wrents gathered that he was not weakened after Tenza, but stronger. The fire burned and crackled at his side, while some of the Wrents in the middle of the circle began to cower.

  “What has happened here?” Cuno asked, motioning to the dead Wrent on the ground. “If we march south, we need every fox we have. Not one should be killed by our own hands.”

  A Wrent from Croma stepped forward, bowing to Cuno.

  “The Remo tribe dogs were bragging about their strength,” the brown and white Wrent said, as if accusing them of some great crime. “So, one of ours broke a Remo's neck.”

  He paused a m
inute, then stood to his fullest height.

  “Give us a chance, Cuno!” he pleaded. Those who were standing behind him, from Croma no doubt, were nodding vigorously. “We will prove that Croma Wrents are strong! The strongest!”

  At this, the females from Remo began to bark madly, obviously disagreeing and wanting their own chance to prove their strength.

  Cuno licked his lips. He paced a minute as he observed the whole picture in front of him. He knew what must be done.

  “Remo said they were better than Croma?” he asked.

  The brown and white fox nodded. Remo Wrents growled at him.

  “And Remo thinks they are stronger still?” he asked, turning to the Wrents from the west.

  They responded with barks and stamps of their paws. Both groups began to bark and to howl, showing the other they were not afraid and not going to back down.

  “But who is stronger than me?” Cuno asked.

  The scene shifted. The barking stopped abruptly and no more Wrents stamped the ground. Many who had been staring at him, hoping for the chance to prove their strength, suddenly found the ground more interesting than Cuno's piercing stare.

  “You there!” Cuno said, pointing to the Wrent who had spoken up. “Are you strong?”

  “Yes!” came his enthusiastic bark. He swelled his chest up as full as he could.

  “Stronger than me?” Cuno asked. The fox deflated a little.

  “N...no, Cuno,” he stammered. Fear was creeping at the edges of his eyes, but he tried to hide it from his leader. “None are stronger than Cuno the Red-Handed.”

  He was lighting fast. Cuno had run up to the Wrent, grabbed him by the throat and slammed him onto the ground.

  “You're right,” he whispered into the Wrent's ear.

  Then he stood. For one moment, the Wrent on the ground looked as if he was relieved. Like Cuno's wrath had passed him over. He was wrong.

  In a blinding flash of fire, Cuno made a crater appear where the Wrent was lying on the ground with the force of his magic. A sharp black outline of the Wrent appeared in the glow for a moment, then was gone. The smell of burning hair and blackened earth rose into Cuno's nostrils.

  “There is none stronger!” he barked into the air, sending another fire blast into the group of Remo Wrents, torching two and sending the rest flying away with their tails between their legs.

  “We are no longer Croma and Arras and Remo tribes!” he bellowed. “We are one tribe! The Red Paws!”

  Lacha was at his side and held up the Rimstone paw for all to see.

  “Cuno! Magic paw!” he shouted to those around him.

  “Cuno!” they echoed back in reply.

  Wrents barked wildly and howled at the sky. Cuno began to make his way back up to the mountain's base. A wide path was made for him as he walked. Many barked their approval. Others howled their respect for him.

  Cuno’s mind was a whirlwind. He was the strongest Wrent ever to walk the lands of Irradan. He was the unifier of the Wrents. Now it was time to lead them south and face common enemies. Otherwise, they might tear themselves apart from within.

  “Lacha! Kika!” he called as he came to the place where he had woken that morning. “Make our preparations ready. We march for the forest at dawn.”

  25: A Time to Overthrow

  Serinde stalked the streets of Eccott with her sister, Omioor and another elf at her side. The suns had set an hour ago, and the time for the resistance to strike was at hand. This was the time that the elves of Eccott make their bold declaration of freedom, and it was do or die.

  Ferina had taken many pains to explain the plan to the two newest elves among their number. The cities of Eccott, Ellosin, and Caleah were all to attempt a rebellion at the same time. Azol's own revolution was a rouse in an attempt to have the empire divert troops to the city and take them away from the other three who would be rebelling on this very night.

  Eccott was the main goal. If the other two cities were unable to throw off the empire, Eccott and Azol would send aid as soon as they were able.

  If Azol was truly free.

  “Haven't heard a word yet,” Omioor said quietly, as the four of them prowled the streets. “But that may be because of these heavy rains we've been having.”

  It was true that, in the last week alone, it had rained nearly every day. The city of Eccott was awash in summer storms. Mild rains had kept up throughout most of the day and, even as the suns sank below the horizon, rain continued to fall. The streets were slippery and small streams ran down either side of the stone passages of the city. Most of the residents of Eccott were indoors, trying to stay dry.

  All the better for a group planning a rebellion to act.

  “The target is just up these stairs and down the street,” said Ritton, the fourth elf of their party. She was a slender elf with brown hair wrapped into a bun. Her duties during the light of day were assisting the leadership of Eccott by carrying their messages from the upper levels of the city down to the lower parts. Of course, this put her in the prime position to know as much as an elf could know about the empire in Eccott.

  A narrow set of white stone steps led up to the next level of the city. These were flanked by tall stone walls that would hide their ascent best. Any guard on the watchtowers above would miss them if they crouched low. Emerging from the stairs, Ritton held up her hand to halt them.

  “Guards,” she whispered from the corner of her mouth.

  They waited with breath held as a troop of six guards walked past the steps and down the street that led to the barracks of the city. Following them at a distance, the four weaved in and out of the training courts, armories, storage buildings, and stables that occupied this level of Eccott.

  Slowly, their target came into view. The barracks of Eccott looked formidable in the lantern light of the evening. Standing outside of it were the six soldiers they had seen earlier. They stood in loose formation, speaking casually of the rain and the summer heat.

  Ritton held up her hand again for them to pause and to be silent. Now it was their job to wait for the signal.

  Serinde went over the plan in her head.

  All major fingers of the empire's hold on Eccott were getting cut at the same time. The barracks, the magistrate's office, the gate, the armory, and the food distribution center. Each of these had several groups infiltrating them, with many distractions planned throughout the city to confuse the guard. It was their group's job to get into the barracks and make sure the elves who were set to overtake the captain of the guard had no one in their way.

  The moments ticked by as the rain kept falling. Any moment now, Serinde thought, the signal would come and the city would be thrown into chaos. With any luck, freedom would follow. Serinde's heart was pounding with expectation. She clutched her knife firmly in her grasp. Looking over at Erilas, however, made her pause.

  “Did you bring your knife?” she asked in a whisper.

  Erilas looked down at the street. Her arms were crossed in front of her and her hood fell over her face, hiding it from view.

  “I said I would spill no blood.”

  “But you need a weapon!” Serinde hissed. How silly could her sister be at this moment? What if she was unarmed and a guard came upon her. But then the bell of the city tolled ten times to mark the end of the day and beginning of the night watch?

  And the plan was set into motion.

  An explosion rocked the city, not three stone throws away from their hiding place. They rushed the barracks as every guard in the watchtowers above diverted their attention to the building Serinde knew now was a pile of rock.

  Another group emerged from the shadows just as two guards slumped over the railing of their towers, arrows embedded in their helmets. They leapt from their hiding place and rushed the gates, where guards stood confused, looking to the left and right, halberds down and ready.

  Omioor got there first. With his blade, he struck aside one of the guards who had pointed his weapon at the older elf. He didn't flo
urish his blade around or make wide sweeping movements. Omioor was very precise with every movement. The blade glinted in the light of the moon and Serinde saw it also shimmered red with blood.

  Another guard stepped in front of Serinde. She raised her own short sword to parry his attack, but didn't need to. An arrow pierced his side, between his chest and his arm. He grunted with pain and recoiled as Serinde drove her blade through the gap between his helmet and his neck.

  A month ago, she would have been terrified at the prospect of attacking another elf. She would have winced at the thought of ending another's life when it was in her power to protect it. But that was before her father was taken from her. Before she had learned of the evils of the empire in Eccott. Before she was taught how to wield a blade by Omioor as they waited for this day.

  She reveled in the kill. The guard slumped to the ground and she whirled around to see dozens of other elves rushing the gate, bows and blades in their hands. The gates were shoved open before them; the guards hadn't been given time to bar them. Rushing into the complex, Serinde noticed their next target: the three-story tower that held within it the captain they were to eliminate.

  Guards were now coming out to meet them in the courtyard. It looked like a training ground with swords and halberds on stands and wooden opponents standing in rows. From in between these, Enoth guards rushed out, some of them half armed and half dressed. Many of the warriors who broke in with them went to fight these empire troops.

  Serinde and her three kept running. They were one of three groups who were to attempt the assassination. From the look of the door, the first group had already broken in and began to the climb the stairs they knew they would find at the back of the building. Bursting through the portal, the four of them leapt over the bodies of friend and foe alike as they sprinted for the stairs. Two guards attempted to rush them, but Ritton had already thrown two daggers that eliminated them as a threat. As they passed, Serinde put her blade into one of them, just to make sure.