Clans of Irradan

by RG Long

  Guards opened the flaps to allow him entrance. He thanked them with a wave.

  The two elves walked to the back of the tent, past the individual rooms for sleeping, planning, and eating. In the very back of the tent, a second flap was opened by another pair of guards. This one led to an enclosure with no top. White fabric surrounded them, but nothing kept them from looking up at the sky. Burning brightly there, the Comet was turning from a pale violet to a dim orange.

  “It is beginning,” Rophilborn said.

  “Because of your efforts,” his apprentice replied.

  He nodded. It was true. This was because of his work. But it was also thanks to the blessing of the Comet.

  “My subjects worship me as an elf of great importance,” he said. “But, soon, they will worship me as they rightly should: a god among elves.”

  “Your Excellency,” the robed elf said, bowing. “You are so close to fulfilling the work of your forebears.”

  Indeed he was.

  Rophilborn bowed to the Comet, his hands outstretched.

  “Soon,” he said. “I will be the greatest and most powerful being to walk among mortals. But my time is not yet completed. Certain tasks must be completed first.”

  With this, he rose to his full height and returned to the entrance of the tent.

  “Bring me Cedric,” he commanded. One of the guards bowed and walked briskly from the tent to go and fetch the priest.

  As the guard vanished behind the outer entrance, Rophilborn turned to his planning room. A table was laid out there with a map of Irradan. Several places were marked with purple banners already. Several more were labeled with golden stars.

  “Your Excellency?” his apprentice asked.

  Lost in thought for what was about to take place, Rophilborn took a moment before granting him free speech.

  “I thought you had grown tired of the priest,” he said.

  A smile crossed Rophilborn’s face.

  “He still has a purpose to serve me,” he answered. “One that I do not entrust to just any elf.”

  Two guards entered the planning room, with Cedric at their heels.

  “You called for me, Your Excellency?” he asked after he had bowed low.

  “I did indeed,” Rophilborn said with a wave of his hand, dismissing the guards. They bowed and left the tent.

  “Have you done all that I have asked of you?” he asked. “Your priests have marched to war with us under my banner?”

  “Yes, Your Excellency,” Cedric replied.

  Of course, Rophilborn knew this. He had kept close tabs on the priest and his followers ever since they had left Pahyrst. The yellow robed elves had indeed marched along with the rest of the army. They had not, as Rophilborn had directed, strayed from the main army to construct whatever temples Cedric had planned for them to.

  They had kept their word and now would reap the rewards for their actions.

  “Well done,” Rophilborn said. He saw a visible change in the expression Cedric had on his face. It was subtle for sure, but the priest had relaxed at his words.

  It was the confirmation he had needed.

  “Gather your priests for a ceremony in an hour. I plan to honor them for their service to Enoth. Report to my tent when they are assembled. You are dismissed.”

  Cedric bowed low, something he had not done to the emperor in a long while.

  “You are gracious, Your Excellency,” he said. “I will do as you say.”

  He turned and left the tent, yellow robes flapping at his heels.

  “That takes care of one matter,” Rophilborn said to his masked companion. “And now for the next.”

  He clapped his hands three times and, as silently as shadows, three armored but rather beaten down warriors entered the room. He considered them casually.

  “I did not expect you three to fail,” he said. Though his tone was even, he was beginning to feel a tinge of anger fill him. The three they had held at Horritoft were there for him to interrogate. He had learned of their intentions and had hoped they would be broken enough to give him answers. Especially after he had claimed their friends as his own.

  The faces of the three in front of him remained blank, expressionless, though purple energy flowed from their eyes.

  “Perhaps you need a better captain this time, hmm?” he asked them, knowing full well they could not comprehend his musings.

  The elf in the mask cleared his throat.

  “My lord?” he asked.

  Rophilborn nodded, guessing at the question that was on the tongue of his protégé.

  “Follow these three and kill their comrades,” Rophilborn said. “But leave at least one alive so I can question them. I hear they have a small girl in their midst. She’ll do.”

  The masked elf bowed and stepped forward. Before he left, Rophilborn took hold of his arm.

  “We are nearly there,” he said in a low tone. “The nine stars are almost complete and the forest will flow with blood.”

  A wicked smile crossed his face.

  “The age of the Comet draws near.”

  Outside, he could hear the work of his elves beginning in earnest. A call was sounded and a mighty crash filled the air. He had expected this sound and was not surprised. Rather, he was elated. The forest was coming down. If this did not incite the rage of his enemies, he knew little else would.

  TRUE TO HIS WORD, CEDRIC had gathered his priests and assembled them outside of the tent of the emperor. Rophilborn watched them all as they stood at attention, all eyes on him. Cedric bowed low and every one of the hundreds of priests he had brought with him did the same. They showed respect to their emperor, at least on the outside.

  Night was beginning to fall, now that the two suns had traveled beyond the horizon. The three moons of the night were beginning their nightly journey across the sky. In that same darkening blue field, the Dark Comet glowed with a faint purple light.

  Rophilborn looked left and right before raising his hands and speaking to the rows of attentive elves.

  “My devoted priests,” he said as they all resumed their standing positions. “I thank you for your service to me and to the great empire of Enoth!”

  At this, the priests cheered by shouting once with a loud voice “For Enoth!”

  Rophilborn smiled.

  “For Enoth,” he said with a voice that was no longer full and loud, but low and dangerous. The emperor of the elves of Enoth dropped his hands to his side.

  At that moment, thousands of arrows poured in from all sides of the priests, as three companies of archers loosed their volleys into the yellow robes that quickly became stained with red. They fell in piles onto the ground.

  A loud, long wail came from Cedric beside him. Rophilborn grabbed the tall priest by his hair and pulled him down to his knees. He wanted the elf to know his place.

  “For years, you have sought to undermine me by bringing up a religion that worshiped a Comet in the sky and not the one who deserves the worship of his subjects.”

  Cedric let out a growl of rage but was cut off by a punch to his ribs by one of the emperor's guards. In the span of a moment, Rophilborn pulled a dagger from his side and held it to the throat of the now red faced priest.

  “I... have only sought to... serve my emperor and empire,” Cedric spluttered. “Why has this earned my priests' death!?”

  “We all earn death,” Rophilborn said. “Yours is not meaningless as you may fear, but rather the beginning of something greater than you can possibly perceive.”

  There was a flash of metal and spray of red in the light of the moons.

  “Your service is at an end,” Rophilborn said as he let go of the limp body and handed the knife to a guard who accepted it without question.

  One of the captains from his army came up to him and saluted.

  “Orders, Your Excellency?”

  Rophilborn looked over the scene before him. Hundreds of priests now lay dead in the field. Another tree fell from the axes that worked despi
te the dark. Torches were being lit all over the camp. Glancing up, he saw that the Dark Comet now burned with a tinge of orange.

  “Burn the bodies. We march at daybreak.”

  36: Pumpkin and Prison

  So far, this adventure was turning out to be pretty lousy, Bernard thought. Not only had he not performed a single feat of daring or bravery, he was now locked in a cell next to an elf who kept referring to herself as “Pumpkin.” He was fairly certain this was not her name, despite her rather round face that made her look less like any other elf than he had seen so far.

  “What are you in for, handsome?” she kept asking him. He had told her at least a hundred times that he had no idea. That was more or less the truth. He wasn’t sure why Kilgore had thrown him in prison, nor why Lincoln kept visiting without getting him out.

  They had been in this city for a week now. It was infuriating. Lincoln kept being mysterious and saying things like, “We’ve almost found out what we need to,” and, “This is all a part of the mission.”

  Bernard thought the mission was informing the other human cities of Darrion about an elf invasion. Being locked in a prison was the complete opposite of what he thought he needed to be doing. But, seeing as how he didn’t have a key and Kilgore hadn’t come to explain anything further to him, Bernard did his best to have a positive outlook on the whole situation.

  The dungeon was a dreary place. It was a rectangular room with ten or so cells that lined both walls. Fortunately for him, his cell was on the side that had a window. Light came in through a very small slit in the prison wall that was just high enough for Bernard not to be able to look out of it. From what he could tell, his cell was mostly underground, with the slit of the window being at ground level. Metal surrounded him and all the other prisoners. Of which, Pumpkin was the only one.

  It was from this window that Bernard would hear from Lincoln, who had discovered the opening on the third day of his imprisonment.

  “Hey, Bernard,” was all of the introduction Lincoln gave before he began rattling off what they had been up to.

  “Captain Kilgore and I have been trying to explore the city and find any humans who don’t think the elves occupying the city is a great idea. Turns out there aren’t very many. One of them liked my latest poem though. Want to hear it?”

  Bernard had been too caught off guard to catch the first bit, but was jumping up trying to hear the rest of Lincoln’s report. He couldn’t get more than a head below the window, even when he was standing on the bucket he had to use for a bathroom.

  “When am I getting out of here?” he asked impatiently.

  “Kilgore hasn’t said anything about that lately,” Lincoln observed, scratching his chin. “He does seem less angry than he did on our march here, though. He almost smiled the other day.”

  “Where are you two staying, then?” Bernard asked, irritated that he was the only one in a prison.

  “The barracks with some other soldiers. The elves have brought some of their rations from Enoth. There’s this one kind of fish...”

  Bernard interrupted.

  “The barracks!?” he shouted. “Then why haven’t you come before now?”

  “They don’t let anyone down to see the prisoners. I asked,” Lincoln said apologetically. “I wanted to bring you some of what we’ve been eating! The fish really is amazing. I’ve never had it before, but....”

  “I don’t care what you’ve been eating; get me some! I haven’t had anything but dry bread and water!” Bernard complained.

  “I can do that,” Lincoln said before disappearing from the window.

  “Wait!” Bernard shouted. “I didn’t mean right now! Ask the captain when I’m getting out of here!”

  But Lincoln must have moved so far from the window that he couldn’t hear him anymore. It didn’t matter too much as Bernard had shifted to try to see what direction he had gone in and slipped from his bucket. His foot fell with a slosh into the contents and Bernard began swearing up a storm.

  “Quiet down there!” came a shout from the prison master, whose desk was behind the door that led to this prison block. “Or I’ll come give you something to shout about!”

  Grumbling, Bernard scrapped his boot along his cell floor, trying to clean it the best he could.

  “Who was that?” Pumpkin asked, looking inquisitively at Bernard.

  She was sitting crossed legged on her mat with her arms at her sides. She looked very much like a curious child. Bernard sighed.

  “My friend from Lone Peak,” he said, without going into too much detail. He didn’t know if he trusted this elf. He didn’t know if she would understand him either. Mostly she just stared at him all day. It was beginning to unnerve him.

  “Why are you in a cell and your friend is not?” she asked.

  “I...” Bernard began, without knowing how to explain it all.

  “He didn’t have to be in a cell,” he said after a moment’s hesitation.

  “But you did?”

  “I suppose so.”

  “What did you do?”

  “I ran away,” Bernard said. He figured giving her the same line Kilgore had given the guard the entrance wouldn’t be a terrible thing.

  “You ran?” she asked, her eyes wide. She appeared to contemplate this for a long time before saying, “You could have walked.”

  Bernard stared at her to see if she was being serious. Her face was set. She was nodding as if she had come to the heart of the issue. And her eyes were quite blank.

  If she was sane, Bernard thought, Captain Kilgore was about to come into his cell and dance while he sang a ballad.

  “Yeah,” Bernard said out loud, rubbing his head with his hand. “I guess I didn’t think of that at the time.”

  “Try to next time,” Pumpkin said with a smile on her face.

  Bernard nodded and tried to get what was left of the excrement off his shoe.

  “Sure thing,” he said, hoping Lincoln would return with fish and a small dose of sanity.

  PUMPKIN WAS THE ONLY source of entertainment Bernard had over the next few days. Lincoln came twice and delivered a parcel of food: mostly fish and vegetables purloined from a table. These Bernard shared with Pumpkin, as it seemed uncivil to feast in front of a female, even if she was insane.

  Sanity not-withstanding, Pumpkin did make a good audience. After once asking what he did for a living, Bernard spared no time in outlining every single adventure he had ever gone on. The elf made for an excellent audience. She gasped and cried and cheered at all the right places. Seeing as how they were the only prisoners in the cell block, Bernard had no qualms in acting out each scene with gusto and reliving all his favorites more than once. Pumpkin didn’t seem to mind at all. In fact, she began making requests herself.

  Exactly one week after they had thrown Bernard into the prison, Lincoln came with a message from Kilgore.

  “We’re getting ready to leave,” he said as he pushed a half a fish and some potatoes down to Bernard. “Eat quick!”

  He didn’t even stop to ask why Bernard was standing on one hand with his feet dangling in the air. The parcel hit Bernard in the back and he fell to the ground, trying to get back up to ask Lincoln what the plan was. By the time he had righted himself and jumped up to the window, Lincoln was gone.

  “Your friend is weird,” Pumpkin said as she sat patiently on her mat.

  She had been eagerly listening to Bernard explain the time he had been captured by Wrents, hung upside down, and nearly sacrificed to their moon goddess. While he wasn’t sure the Wrents worshipped anything of the sort, it sounded good at the time and he was so deep into his story he was sure it didn’t matter to Pumpkin.

  He opened up the hastily wrapped fish and potato, carefully dividing it into two. giving the larger half to Pumpkin. She looked like she needed more food in her stomach than he did. Bernard began pacing around his cell, thinking about what it might mean to be leaving so soon Lincoln couldn’t even stay for a chat.

  Had they
found out what the elves were up to? Had they been discovered in their quest? Was Kilgore in trouble? Perhaps the captain was, at this very moment, fighting a full contingent of elves, trying desperately to reach his faithful soldier in the lowest dungeon of the city. Bruised and bloody, in Bernard’s mind’s eye, the captain was swearing he would not leave without Bernard the brave!

  All of these thoughts were flying around in his brain when he heard the cell block door open and saw Kilgore standing in the doorframe, looking quite calm and undamaged. The apparently unconscious body of the prison warden lay behind him on the floor.

  “Come on,” he said as he flung the keys at Bernard. “We’re leaving.”

  It certainly wasn’t the fanfare he had expected. The keys to the cell landed in a heap at the door, just within his reach. Kilgore didn’t even stay to watch him unlock the door. He had turned and left before Bernard had even picked up the keys.

  “Bye, Bernard,” Pumpkin said as she watched him unlock the door of his own cell and exit without a word. It was then that the dangerous thought crossed his mind and he stood in front of her cell.

  “Hold on a second,” he said as he rummaged through the keys and finally inserted the one that fit into Pumpkin’s cell. He opened her door and thrust the keys into her hand. She looked quizzically down at them in her hand and then up at him again.

  “But I’m in prison,” she said blankly.

  Bernard sighed and grabbed her hand.

  “Not anymore,” he said as he pulled her out of the cell and into the hall that led out of the dungeons and into the barracks.

  CHAOS WAS HAPPENING all over the barracks when Bernard emerged with Pumpkin at his side. There were soldiers of Darrion running in and out of the place while many elves lay on the floor, either dead or unconscious.

  “Over here!” Kilgore was yelling as he waved Bernard over. He gave Pumpkin a look and then directed his attention back to his soldier.

  “We intercepted a message from the joint army marching southwards,” he said. “That led to this uprising. The city is trying to rid itself of the elves, but the other cities of Darrion don’t know what’s going on. We’re taking horses to try to make it back to Lone Peak. I doubt they know the full extent of what’s going on. Grab a sword and a pack and come on.”