Clans of Irradan

by RG Long

  “WE CAN’T GO THROUGH flames and I don’t have the strength to face the masked elf again,” Holve was saying as they ran back through the woods.

  “So why does running towards the battle make sense?” Ealrin asked.

  “It doesn’t,” he replied. “But perhaps the elves aren’t entirely surrounded yet and we can seek shelter in their defenses.”

  It was hardly a sound plan, but Blume had no better alternative to offer.

  Holve led them in the direction of the battle noises. Amrolan ran behind them, Panto bringing up the rear. Blume looked over her shoulder. Crashing through the forest behind them were several elven warriors brandishing long spears and short swords. At the front was the masked elf and their three friends, armed and armored and ready to kill their former companions.

  They weren’t going to make it to the protection of the Wood Walkers. They were going to be caught.

  Then Blume had an idea. A terrible, crazy, stupid idea. But it was all she could think of to do. And it felt like the right thing so much in her heart that it hurt. So, ignoring every sane thought that came into her mind to dissuade her from what she had determined to do, she took a hard right and started to shout.

  “If you want me, come and get me!”

  “Blume!” Ealrin shouted as she tore off in a different direction from the main group.

  She didn’t turn back. The masked elf had said it himself. They wanted her. Visions of Ealrin sacrificing himself for her on the beach kept replaying in her head. What had they gained from that? Jurgon dead. And now the rest of them would end up the same if she didn’t do something.

  Well, she thought. If they want me, they’ll have to give up on the others.

  Vines, rocks, and branches seemed to impede her every step. But she ran as hard as she could. Her legs were beaten up and bruised by every bit of undergrowth she ran past. She grabbed her amulet with one hand and Jurgon’s wand with the other. If she was going to get captured, she was at least going to make it as difficult for her captors as she could.

  She whirled around and concentrated hard on the trees around her. The air became thick with magic as she tried with all her might to cast a spell to do the most damage to those running behind her friends.

  But nothing happened. Not a bolt. Not a spark. Nothing.

  She was utterly spent.

  The elves were just a few paces away from her when Panto came crashing through their company, paws wildly swiping at any elf in his path. Amrolan was by the bear’s side in a flash. Two elves fell by his blades before Blume had time to blink. Then Holve joined in with a blinding white flash that knocked several elves to the ground.

  Before she knew what was happening, Silverwolf and Ealrin were by her side. Each had hold of her arms and were dragging her backwards. Away from the battle. Away from more who were fighting for her.

  To save her.

  “Let me go!” she yelled. “They’re after me!”

  “Which is why we’re saving your sorry neck,” Silverwolf shouted as she roughly shoved Blume in front of her.

  “Go!” Ealrin shouted at them both.

  “So, what?” Silverwolf said, still pushing Blume ahead of herself. “So you can be noble?”

  He looked back at them both with a fire in his eyes Blume rarely saw, but recognized from the day they first met.

  “Look after her,” he said, before running back to the fighting and away from Blume.

  “Ealrin!” she shouted and tried to run after him. Before she could move to follow him, however, Silverwolf was pulling her along again.

  “Don’t waste this,” she said with bitterness seething through her speech.

  Blume struggled against Silverwolf for a moment, before they were set upon by elves wielding long spears and faces that were contorted in cries of war. One fell dead from a blade the assassin wedged into his throat from twenty paces away, but three still pursued them.

  “Run!” Silverwolf yelled at her as she drew her own sword and ran at the oncoming warriors. Blume was sick of being told to run. She wanted to help. Unsheathing the sword Silverwolf had given her, she put Jurgon’s wand in her belt and ran to face the elves as well.

  Two went for the older of them. One elf turned his spear tip on Blume. She dodged the first strike he aimed at her, but only by a hair. The point ripped through a fold of her dress. In response, she aimed her sword at the exposed armpit, like she had been taught. A spray of blood hit her in the face as the elf screamed in pain.

  His yell was cut short by the end of Silverwolf’s blade. She had dispatched the elves that had come to her and had turned her attention to the third.

  Blume stood rooted to the spot, horror overcoming her. She was not used to fighting with swords and blades. This was not her way.

  “Come on,” Silverwolf said, pulling Blume back in the direction of the water.

  They both broke through the tree line and stepped onto the beach, gasping and panting. The sound of battle raged behind them and the fires of the forest burned to the side. Blume could barely find her breath. What had she done?

  She had meant to draw the enemy away from her friends to her. It had been her plan to draw them away from those she valued and sacrifice herself for them. Now she looked back and saw bright lights flashing and heard the clash of warriors in the woods. Would more of her friends lay their lives down for her? How could she bear it if they died protecting her when she didn’t even know why she was being pursued?

  Silverwolf let out a laugh that caught Blume by surprise.

  “It’s about time,” she said, pointing out to the water.

  Four boats, all alight with lanterns that illuminated their red sails, were sailing towards them with a warm northern wind.

  43: Facts

  Tory fought with all of his might. The elves of Enoth continued to bombard the wall they had constructed from Rimstone rocks. Speakers on both sides attempted to control the magic of the wall with their art. At times, the wall glowed bright green, showing that the Wood Walkers were in control of the magic inside the stones. At other times, the wall was dark with a blue tone that signaled that Enoth had gained control.

  At the moment, Tory was unable to tell what color the wall was. He was trying to keep a small hole that had opened in the defenses from being penetrated by the attacking elves. Rocks were being thrown from above them on the wall and down below, Tory and Gorplin stood in the gap and held those who made it past the rocks at bay. They were helped, of course, by the magic of the Speakers from the Wood Walkers.

  Vines continually came and swept the Enoth elves away. At other times, birds of different sizes came and pecked back the attackers. Currently, however, the gap was held by the strength of Gorplin’s ax and Tory’s determined blade.

  “Go back to your dusty empire!” cried Gorplin as he swung his ax at an elf who would never return home after the blow he had just received. Tory looked to see the last of the current attackers flee the gap in the wall as their comrade fell. He stood gasping for breath as he observed the area around them.

  “That can’t be it?” he asked, flexing his other hand and leaning up against the rubble that was his side of the defenses. The wall, at the moment, glowed green and the elves of Enoth were retreating. “Enoth is just going to give up? I thought they were more determined than that.”

  “Bah,” said Gorplin. “Still got some more fight in you?”

  Tory didn’t respond. He almost didn’t dare to hope that it had worked. Their hasty defenses. Their short training. Had they really repelled a great army with vines and birds and stone?

  A great shout came up from the Wood Walkers. Tory looked behind him to see many with their fists in the air. Were they celebrating? Tory gave a shout as well and a smile cracked his lips.

  His cheer and his grin died as soon as he saw what the elves behind him were shouting about. The giant trees behind them, the ancient ones they had sought to protect and defend, were ablaze. A wind from the north came suddenly through the defe
nses and Tory smelled not only a great whiff of smoke, but some other cruel scent.

  That was when he heard the howls.

  Wrents. Tory had heard them before. Now he was going to face them in battle. Torn between abandoning the gap in the wall he was defending and going back to see how he could help the rear defenses, he hesitated a moment. Gorplin shouted for him to look back.

  Wrents were fighting their way through the Enoth ranks as well. Through the forest they poured, going in front of flame and fire. The beasts were everywhere. It wasn’t long before Tory was forced to decide the course of action to take. He shouted for the elves around him to follow him and they abandoned the wall. If they were going to survive this, they needed to find a place to defend.

  He led them to the tower Ferinan had been issuing orders from. The ruined building stood over the wall and the battlefield and would give them a place to see the tides of war. Unfortunately, as Tory found out upon their arrival, it also showed them the extent of the fire that followed the Wrents.

  The forest was alight with fire. Thick dark plumes of smoke rose high over their heads, filtering through the canopy that burned away the leaves and branches on the ancient trees. Tall pillars of flame that were once magnificent trees burned bright in the darkness.

  Tory found Ferinan on the tower, staring at the flames, unable to move.

  “We’ll be cooked crisp if we stay here,” Tory shouted over the noise of elf and Wrent in battle. “The fire’s coming fast.”

  Ferinan stood rooted to the spot. She didn’t flinch at Tory’s grip on her arm.

  “Come on!” he shouted again. Still she was unresponsive.

  “The sacred forest...” she said, barely audible over the sound of battle. “All gone...”

  “And you’ll be gone, too, if we don’t hurry up!” Tory said, trying to gently shove the ancient elf into motion. “We’ve got to get to the water!”

  Tory knew there was a path from the city to the sea. The ancient waters had once come all the way up to the stones of the place and served as a kind of port. Only now, it was a question of trying to get what remained of the Wood Walkers to the water before they were burned alive, clawed to death by Wrents, or slain by the Enoth army.

  “Some defense,” Tory muttered to himself. The Wrents were closing in on them. It wouldn’t be long before they were surrounded by the foxes and the fire. Some of the elves had stopped attempting to defend their leader and instead were fleeing in whatever direction seemed best. Tory didn’t blame them. The prospect seemed enticing.

  “Move, you crazy long-legged bark eater!” Gorplin shouted, pushing Ferinan unceremoniously from her spot and, in effect, waking her from her trance.

  Ferinan shook her head and backhanded Gorplin right across his beard.

  “Speak to the chief Wood Walker with more respect, short, bearded one,” she said. Soon, she was bounding down the tower in the direction of the sea.

  Gorplin and Tory followed, along with many elves who were retreating from the onslaught of the Wrents. Most looked scared. Some looked stoic but determined. Tory saw all ages: elders and children, those carrying branches and stones and those who carried others.

  “She’s really got you pegged,” Tory said as they jogged behind Ferinan down the paths of the ruined city.

  “Bah,” Gorplin replied, trotting next to Tory with his ax still clutched in his hand. “Weak insults, if they can even be called that. More like facts.”

  Tory chuckled. Though he annoyed him to know end, he appreciated the company of the stout Gorplin from time to time. The two ran on as fire and Wrents rained down around them.

  44: Fire

  Cuno stretched his paw out again and fire poured forth. He felt connected to every flame he sent. With each new blaze, he felt stronger, more powerful. His Wrents charged forward, howling and biting and clawing at any elf they encountered.

  Cuno had not hoped to be given so many elves to attack. He had only wished to destroy the long-legs that lived in the forest as they came upon them. Fate must truly have favored the Red-Handed One. He had the great fortune to come upon elves besieging elves. The combined might of his clan crashed down on the two armies below him.

  And his fire rained down on them all.

  Trees began to fall, crushing the elves beneath them as they gave to the intense heat that Cuno threw at them. Ancient trees that had grown since the foundation of the world bent to his will.

  And the fire within Cuno continued to swell as well.

  “The elves run,” Lacha said as he stood by Cuno’s side.

  “Let them flee!” Cuno said through gritted teeth. “We’ll hunt them down one by one.”

  He sent another jet of flames towards a group of armored elves that had gathered around a banner of purple. The banner burst into a hot blaze. The standard bearer abandoned his duty and his flag as it burned two other of his comrades.

  A pack of Wrents attacked the group as they attempted to free the warriors from underneath the burning cloth.

  Laughter rose in Cuno’s throat and escaped his mouth in a bark and a howl. He was full of fire. Full of power. Full of rage.

  What Wrent had been able to unite the clans against their common enemy? What fox had seen fit to show his pack such power?

  It was Cuno.

  Cuno the Red-Handed!

  He let another burst of flame from his paw incinerate an elf who had wandered from his comrades. The shrieks of pain that he made filled Cuno with an insatiable rage and desire to hear more screams of pain.

  This night was his.

  And he would see them all burn before the suns rose.

  45: Boats

  “About bloody time,” Silverwolf shouted to the elves in row boats as they approached land. “You were supposed to meet me at least a week ago!”

  “And you weren’t at the designated meeting place,” said a stocky male elf with a blonde ponytail. Silverwolf saw he was still wearing that ridiculous green bandana on his head. “How were we supposed to meet when you don’t show up?”

  “Details,” Silverwolf muttered. “You’re here now. How’d you find me?”

  “We figured we’d follow the smoke billowing out of the ancient forest and that you’d be in the middle of the destruction.”

  “Ha,” Silverwolf said with a sarcastic tone. “How many boats do you have?”

  “Four.”

  “That might not be enough.”

  “I know it won’t be,” he said, looking back over his shoulder. “But it’s what we could do. Do you have the amulet?”

  “I’ve got my side of the deal taken care of, Trek,” Silverwolf replied. “You still need to hold up yours.”

  “Fine,” Trek replied. “Get in.”

  “Not yet,” Silverwolf said, looking back to the forest. “I expect we’ll have company soon.”

  “Company?” Trek asked, raising his eyebrow high. By this time, many of his fellows had beached their own small row boats and were pointing to the fire that filled the forest and illuminated the beach.

  Silverwolf motioned with her hand without looking behind her. At that moment, a mass of Wood Walkers began pouring out of the woods and onto the beach. Some ran all the way into the water until they were knee deep before turning back to look at their forest home.

  Others stood beside the boats, warily.

  “If you want to live, get in a boat!” Silverwolf shouted above the din.

  Many obeyed. Some just stood in the water.

  Trek looked dumbfounded and stuttered for a while before finding his voice.

  “You said we’d be taking some of the forest folk. Not all of them.”

  “Trust me,” Silverwolf replied. “This is far from all of them. Now get rowing. You’ve got a couple trips ahead of you.”

  THE MORNING SUNS BEGAN to rise as the last few boats of elves made their way out to the ships with red sails. Some elves went willingly. Others had to be coerced by Silverwolf’s blade, which she didn’t mind doing. They couldn�
�t just stay in their forest and burn to death or be slaughtered by Enoth.

  Some of the elves were relaying information as they boarded the row boats and were taken out to sea. The Enoth army was dealing with the Wrents and the fire. They had been pushed back far enough to make them not as much of a threat. The fire had burned a path that split the two factions so that they were unable to attack each other. It had been a very small blessing in a night of curses.

  “How many have you seen in the forest?” she asked one group who came just as the dawn split the sky. Misty gray light showed just how devastating the damage had been. Trees were blackened all the way up to their topmost branches. Leaves that were withering in the face of oncoming winter were burned away. Some were still floating through the air, blackened leaves like sails on the wind.

  One elf, whose hair was burned in several places and whose vines that covered her body were blackened in several places, answered as she warily climbed into the row boat.

  “I’ve seen no other elves behind us,” she said, a tear running down her cheek. “We must be the last.”

  She helped a much younger male elf, who might have been a younger brother or even her child, into the boat. Silverwolf looked around and saw that there were very few elves now climbing into boats.

  Blume had stood, quite silent, looking into the forest for the last hour.

  “Is that everyone?” she asked, her voice rising in a high pitch.

  Silverwolf thought she knew what the girl meant by that question.

  “I haven’t seen Ealrin yet,” she said in a voice she hoped sounded indifferent. If she were honest with herself, she was curious about his whereabouts too.

  Softy, said a voice in her head.

  She tried to shake it off, but was saved the trouble by another voice.