The Siege of Haleport
The Last Hope
As darkness was just releasing it's hold on the
land, and the first shafts of sunlight were creeping their way over the
horizon, the small rowing boat, the last which was able to float, drifted out
of the smashed docks of Haleport and out into the
It was on this one man's head that perhaps all their lives rested. The only chance they had left. He knew this of course, and had been reminded of it by more than one of his peers. Not that he needed reminding. He was exhausted, having not slept in several nights and the days were little better. He was hungry and cold and unwashed. He wore a simple travellers cloak, and under that the white and red uniform of Magador. Though now the white was stained and discoloured, and some of the red colouring may well have been bloodstains. Even he didn't know.
Taking one of the oars, he dipped it into the calm water and began to row
away from the city-port and further along the coast. The water lapped against
the sides of the boat, as if welcoming it onto its surface. He struggled a
little against the current, though it was manageable. That very current had
taken the lives of many would-be swimmers, confident they could resist its drag
and swim past the black barrier. None had succeeded. Glancing at the shore he
saw no sign of the attackers. But they were there, hidden under the ground.
Many had been dragged to their deaths trying to escape by land. It was
impossible. It was only via the water which an escape could have been made,
though when they fully came to realise this many of the ships had been
destroyed. No ships came from across the
He rowed passed the area here they were hidden, and then several hundred feet further up the coast before beaching the boat on a cobble beach beyond which were the outskirts of the Pine Woods. He barely noticed the icy water strike his skin as he climbed out and dragged the boat up onto the cobbles. The stones made his work easier and he'd soon dragged it onto the bank behind some long reeds. Though not an ideal hiding place there was little chance anyone would come near, and even less that they'd take it.
The sun was just clear of the horizon now, and he took a few moments to catch his breath. The summer sun warmed him a little, and he took a deep breath of the sweet air. Suddenly an overwhelming reluctance to move came over him. He sat there in the reeds and was very tempted to sit there for the rest of the day. He could do. There was no one to stop him. There was no one to stop him or make him do anything anymore he realised. He realised he didn't have to go back. He could flee, and disappear. No one would know.
Then all at once the feeling was gone, and he instantly hated himself for experiencing it. How could he think such things? With a determined groan he clambered to his feet and set off through the woods.
A Wolf's Dinner?
The Kezamkain mountains. Home to some of the more dangerous animals and inhospitable weather on the continent of Khánn. The mountains, being almost impassable, effectively block all access to Magador's remote western shoreline. Indeed, that shoreline is one of the most deserted parts of any of the civilised lands on the whole of Taleron. Many would argue with this point, though not that the shoreline is deserted, but because some believe Magador to be wholly uncivilised; not least their neighbours Oun. Though there is some truth in some of their claims, many are both untrue and unfair. Oun itself is most certainly civilised, with a strong government, powerful army, enforced laws, good trade and even an education system (for those who can pay). Though Oun had never had as many troubles as Magador. Magador is a harsh, bitter land, inhabited not only by humans but also by dwarves, as well and many other less savoury creatures. Magador's history is filled with wars against the supernatural creations known as the Undead. It's no wonder the people of Magador have had little time to develop much culture, art and literature, when such powerful enemies as Xarground the Undead Lich are still rumoured to still live somewhere deep within the mountains even after it's forces were finally defeated some eight hundred years ago.
Magador has a king, and a government of sorts. There is an army, but is supplemented by soldiers from Oun which is compensated with silver and iron, mined from the mountains near the capital Rustor. But Magador has no law enforcement in many of the towns and villages, and there are vast areas are left to govern themselves. There are advantages to living in such a land however, at least for some. With no rules the strong dominate the weak. Would-be warlords can take their pick from surrounding villages with little threat of reprimand, as long as he has enough men. Mercenaries from lands both near and distant ply their trade, offering their services to the highest bidder hoping maybe to earn enough bronze to rest at the local inn, or to buy an estate and retire. Each has their own agenda, though there are others who do it just for adventure and travel, and others still who have little choice.
She was one of those few. She'd been trained to fight, and she was good at it. The opportunity had never presented itself for her to learn much of anything else. So when she'd left, when she'd fled, hiring her services as a sword had been almost the natural thing to do.
The beast bared its teeth and claws, and growled lowly. The woman crouched on the broken rock of the foothills of the Kezamkain and squinted as the low sun blazed on her fiery green eyes. She had come far to get this one. Folk say that it had killed hundreds of people in its lifetime. Somehow she doubted that very much. It was bigger than usual, but not the biggest she'd come across. In any case, whether the stories were true or not, it’s life would soon end, and the bronze from its slaying would soon line her purse.
It pounced, fast enough to catch a lesser foe by surprise, but that split second earlier her trained eyes saw its muscles tighten and she went into a forward roll. The wolf passed right over her, missing with its cruel claws by a few inches, and landed a several feet away. As it turned it saw the long curved blade come down, and leapt away. The sword, which would have cleaved its head, glanced across its foreleg. It yelped, but the wound did naught except make it angry and it leapt at her again. She leapt back, but was a little off balance and did not totally avoid the blow. The leather jerkin that she wore saved her from a much more serious wound as the four claws scraped across her stomach. Pain shot through her but she was well used to it and ignored it.
The woman, still in a crouch, drew out the throwing knife from her left boot. It flew at the wolf, but the throw was hurried and missed by several inches, clattering on the stone behind it. The wolf was not even distracted by it and didn't look away from her, thus denying her the few seconds she'd desired. Before she could try with the other knives the wolf jumped, its mouth open showing it’s gleaming white teeth that were brutally sharp and ready to tear into her. In desperation she flung her sword upwards and caught the wolf with the broadside of the blade right under the chin, and it flew over her once again. This time though it did not land on its feet as before, but skidded on its side on the loose stones. It swiftly found its feet again though and turned to face its opponent once more.
The wolf snarled in total defiance, despite seeing that it had made its fatal error and knowing what was to come. The knife went through its eye and hit its brain, killing it instantly.
Breathing heavily and shaking a little after the adrenaline rush, she rose from her crouch collected the knife that she'd missed with.
"You’re losing your touch, Velaris."
Velaris, her blonde hair flowing in the light wind, turned to look and saw her companion.
"I thought you had run back to camp," she called. She retrieved her second knife from the wolf's head and wiped it on its fur. She smiled inwardly, and could imagine Surt's look of distaste behind her. "My brother return to the earth. Return to your mother and be free."
Surt didn't hear her words, which were spoken to the wolf anyway, and slotted her long, slightly curved and razor sharp blade into its scabbard.
"What! And miss out on one of the best fights this summer."
The adventurer looked at her leprechaun friend. The leprechauns were a magical race. They were a curious, unpredictable folk, as she'd found out much to her cost. She'd rescued Surt from a group of ruffians who were planning to sell him to a circus several months ago. Sometimes she wondered if he'd have been better off in a circus than travelling with her. It would have been safer for him. Surt was one of her few true friends, though she knew in her heart they'd part ways sometime soon. Despite his potent magical abilities his race was not evolved for the life of a wanderer. She never spoke of it though, as she knew how he'd react. The little man was only two feet tall at the most (she never knew for sure because he never let her check properly). His features were pointed like all those of his race. His sharp green eyes never stopped moving, and showed intelligence and cunning. He was dressed in a mixture of red and green, and reminded her of a little court jester.
"It’s the only fight we’ve had all summer," she remarked and went about removing the wolf’s canine teeth with one of her knives as proof of the kill. "Thanks for the help," she gave him a sideways glance.
"You seemed to be managing well enough on your own," he answered defensively, "And anyway, I thought you could do with the exercise, or you’ll get out of shape."
She groaned, knowing that he would have helped if he saw she really was in trouble. It showed just how well he knew her.
She removed the second tooth, and placed it in her pouch. Though she'd seen larger she hadn't come across this big in some time, so there was no doubt that this was the wolf which had been giving the shepherds so much trouble lately.
"A fine wolf," she remarked.
"It gave you a challenge."
"I won’t deny it, it had me worried for a second." She looked at her wounds, as if just remembering they were there. She caught Surt looking at her with a concerned look.
"They're not bad. I'll get them bandaged and then we'll get going."
"Very well," Surt nodded. "It will be getting dark soon. It would be best not to linger too long here in case this carcass attracts something more dangerous."
"Surt. Shut up. I was the one that taught you that."
"Oh yes."
Pride is Broken
The tavern was dark and smoky, the only light coming through the doorway and several small windows and it was fading fast. The innkeeper would not light the lamps until he had to, to save oil. Sholler the innkeeper, known as Stingy Sholler, would save wherever possible. Not that the "Blue Dragon" was doing badly in southern Farsell. In fact, it was doing a roaring trade, thanks to the new fighting pit he'd had installed out the back. Now the inn was almost full, and a good proportion of the populace was already merry on the watered ale that was served.
Brak watched the figure in the corner. Whoever that was, he had sat there all night. It was half past ten now and he had sat there since Brak had come in at nine. Whoever he was, he wore a black cloak, but Brak had seen a glimpse of curiously red shoes under it. Now the stranger was playing with his dagger. He had placed his left hand on the table, palm stretched out, and he was stabbing the table between his fingers at a seemingly impossible rate. It was a game known as pinfinger, and one that Brak was proficient at.
Was this a challenge? Brak thought. It was reasonably well known that he was unbeaten, though didn't know if he'd attracted some challengers or if it was just coincidence. It did not matter either way though. He was bored as it was and maybe he could get a challenge out of the newcomer. He caught the attention of another man near the bar across the noisy room, and pointed to the black cloaked figure. The man nodded. That man was Dras, and he organised all betting, gambling and other such business other than drinking which was conducted at the inn. In truth the pit had been his idea, though he let Sholler take the credit since Dras was compensated in coin when bets went the wrong way. When he'd seen Brak point to the stranger he knew what was to come and watched intently.
Brak reached the table. "Hey!" he barked. His voice sounded like rusty armour plates rubbing together as he'd spent his lifetime abusing his vocal chords with alcohol. "You think you’re good at Pinfinger do you?"
The figure remained totally still for several moments, not even the slender knife which was held poised between the finger and thumb moved at all. Finally the stranger nodded. Brak sat himself down opposite him without asking for permission and drew out his dagger.
"How about a wager?" he asked. He took out a bag full of coins. "Twenty bronze, can you afford that?" he asked, fully expecting the offer to be rejected.
The stranger threw out a bigger bag onto the table. "Fifty." The voice was like a whisper, barely audible against the rest of the din. Though it was definitely male.
Brak looked at the black hole where the stranger’s face was, but couldn't make out anything. He wished that Sholler had put some lights on early this time.
"Take off your cloak, let me see who I’m robbing."
Slowly but deliberately the stranger removed the hood. Brak swallowed. Before him was a grey haired, blue eyed elf. He knew about elves, well at least he'd heard about them. He'd never seen one before, but knew this was one; tall, slender, with pale unblemished skin. He couldn't see if the tales of their pointed ears were true because the silver hair covered them. Elves were supposed to be much faster than humans are but he couldn’t back down now.
"Fifty." he said, sounding more confident than he actually felt. Brak was just about to signal to Dras not to announce the contest, but he was too late.
"Ladies and gentlemen!" shouted Dras. The whole population of the tavern turned their attention to him, knowing that when he spoke some entertainment was going to follow. "Tonight, Brak the unbeaten has challenged a man to a game of… Pinfinger!"
The man pointed to the table where Brak and the elf were sat.
"Place your bets."
At once there was uproar as the occupants of the inn rushed to the bar to wager their bets on Brak as he was unbeaten. A few minutes later, almost everyone was gathered around the small table. Brak and the stranger sat opposite each other. Their left hands were placed on the table, fingers apart, while in their right hands they each held their daggers. Where the elf's was slender, sharp, and clean, Brak's dagger was crude, blunted from overuse and beginning to rust in places.
It seemed as if everyone in the room had betted for Brak, none of them ever hearing of an elf, yet alone knowing what one was.
"Go!" said Dras.
Immediately the two of them began stabbing their daggers in between their fingers. The pace was fast, and as it continued it became faster than usual. The spectators were silent and the only sound was the thudding of the daggers as they hit the table. The Elf was a picture of calm, almost absent-mindedly stabbing the table as if his hand were not there. Brak on the other hand had broken a sweat, and was panting like a dog. As if out of boredom, the elf looked up at Brak. This unnerved the man. Was the elf better than he was? It was at that moment that he felt a sharp pain and he saw his hand bleeding from the small puncture mark that his dagger had made.
The entire population of the bar groaned, having lost their wager. The elf gave himself a self-satisfied grin, before putting his knife away and scooping the moneybags on the table away under his cloak. Brak just watched, unmoving. The elf rose and turned away, and it was when his back was turned when he heard it. He whirled round and caught the dagger that had been thrown at him, inches from his skull.
"Well now," he said sarcastically. "Aren’t we a sore loser then?" This made Brak rise from his seat and draw his short sword.
The Elf threw Brak’s dagger back at him, it hit the sword with such force that it flew out of his hand and embedded itself into a wooden post. Everyone was astonished.
"Kill him!" shouted Brak.
Two men stepped forward, swords drawn. They were local ruffians, always welcoming a fight and on the lookout for trouble. The elf was armed with a long thin blade, which he made no move to draw. The first man charged at the elf, but half a second later the elf had stepped aside. Unable to stop the man tripped over a stool and went head over heels into a table, knocking himself out. The next man swiped with his axe aiming for the elf’s waist to cleave him in two, but the elf jumped backwards and avoided the blow. The man tried to swipe downwards, but as he raised his weapon the elf hit him in the crotch. Doubling up, the man tried to recover, couldn't, and slowly sank to the ground, moaning and muttering incoherently.
Brak had retrieved his sword from the post and turned to face the elf, but his sword was kicked out of his hand, and before he knew what had happened, the elf placed a finger on his throat and he dropped like a stone. He lay there on the floor of the inn, snoring!
"Anyone else?" the elf asked. Nobody replied, and everyone turned away and went back to their drinking.
He watched them a while, making sure there were no more hostiles, before turning to go to the room he'd rented upstairs. On his way however the man who'd called the contest stopped him.
"May I have a moment of your time sir?" he asked.
"Yes, a moment I can spare."
"My name is Dras. Tell me," he said, in a very respectful tone. "What’s your name?"
"Kordonel."
"Kordonel, I have a business proposition for you…"
The Ploy Unravels
Haldir saw the woman coming from some distance away. It took him a while longer to see the leprechaun in the dying light but it was there also, tagging behind her in the same way a puppy might do. As she neared he let his eyes wander all over her body. She was a fine specimen of a woman if ever there was one, despite being from Oun, which was one of her few flaws. She didn't know he knew, but he did. He could tell by her slight accent, and also by the colour of her skin that was lighter than a Magadorian. There was no doubt, and he idly wondered how she'd ended up here. It mattered not.
Though she dressed much like a man he could see that under the leather armour and weapons was a woman of no small beauty. She was tall and agile, and though slender she lived a hard life and under her bronzed skin were toned rippling muscles.
They entered his small camp. It was not much, just three tents between the six of them, but it served their purpose. He was not a shepherd, but felt he had their best interests at heart. True, he did demand an amount of wool and meat from them occasionally, but with the bronze he received when they were sold in Farsell he could settle disputes and problems which affected them. And any left over he took in payment for their 'protection'.
The two adventurers stood before him now.
"You kill wolf?" he asked.
Velaris took the teeth out and handed them to him. "The biggest one I've seen this year. There's no doubt."
"Wait please," Haldir said. They watched as the short fat man, dressed in silks and looking utterly out of place there in the wilds took out a pair of spectacles and placed them on his nose, looking closely at the teeth.
"Sorry," he said after examining them for a while. "This not same wolf."
Surt shook his head.
"It IS the same wolf," Velaris said in a warning tone. "Now pay up."
Haldir’s men, five of them, had been sat at the nearby campfire, but now they started to show an interest and two of them got up. Velaris and Surt noted their presence.
"It is not the same wolf, is it my friend?" said Haldir, now suddenly confident and threatening. "So you don’t get paid for killing the wrong wolf, agreed?"
Realising the ploy they'd been lured into, Velaris prepared for battle.
"Don’t be a fool, Velaris," said Haldir. "If you fight, one of us will die."
"Well at least we agree on something!"
She raised her blade over her head and brought it down upon Haldir’s skull, breaking it and exposing the brain matter within. A gurgled cry quickly subsided as Haldir fell.
The five men were already advancing, weapons drawn.
Surt drew his blowpipe, grabbed one of the poisoned darts from under his shirt and blew it at the first of the advancing men. It struck him in the throat. He collapsed and seconds later he was dead.
Velaris nimbly dodged one man's clumsy sword thrust and swiftly disembowelled him. He looked at the wound, disbelieving, as he stood there holding his insides and dying.
A crossbow bolt flew past her, and she swiftly located the man and let fly with one of her two throwing knives. The dagger had the desired effect and the man fell. The other two men, suddenly having lost all taste for battle, ran off into the night. Surt was about to give chase, but Velaris stopped him.
"Let them go, they won't be back."
Velaris dragged the corpses far away from the camp and rolled them down into a steep gully, so to not attract jackals and other such beasts near the camp. After she was done she was exhausted, and slumped down next to the fire. Surt had already prepared a meal for them, but she knew he was guilty at not being able to help with the bodies because of his size. Still, preparing a meal was the best thing he could have done, and they both ravenously devoured the roast lamb and mixed vegetables.
"How much money have you found?" Velaris asked him after.
"About ten gold pieces, in total."
She grinned. "Good! That should buy us a few months in an inn."
But Surt shook his head. "I'm afraid there's a problem. It's all on bronze."
"What?!"
Surt just shrugged; there was nothing more to be said. They had enough money for several months of rest at an inn, but they couldn't carry it all. At best, if they filled purses with bronze, they'd get three weeks tops.
"Bad luck, that's all," Surt offered.
Velaris was fuming though. "But it make's no sense! Why would they have all this bronze coin out here?"
Surt had no answer. Instead he hold her to go to sleep, which she finally did.
It wasn't fair, Surt thought as he watched her sleep. They'd been through a real rough patch lately, and this recent job with the wolf would have tidied them over nicely. But now they were hardly better off at all. He began to wonder again if this life was for him or not. He didn't want to leave Velaris, as she'd saved him from, in his eyes, a fate worse than death. But it was hard for him. So very hard.
They both awoke at the same time to the clatter of bells and the sound of sheep. Velaris sat up and was awake instantly, and went to investigate. A shepherd was approaching with a flock of thirty or so sheep. Velaris went down to see what he wanted. Surt stayed in the camp and watched from behind a box.
"Greetings," Velaris called to him.
"Ullo," came the reply, "I'm here to see Haldir about the season's payment…"
"Haldir's… what did you say?"
"The payment. I'm supposed to give him a tenth of my flock."
Velaris sifted her weight onto one leg, and folded her arms across her chest. "A tenth huh? What do you pay for?"
The shepherd looked around anxiously. "Protection. He gives us protection against wolves and bandits…" he looked at her straight for the first time. "You're not… I mean are you… err… with him…?"
Velaris threw back her head and laughed at the sky. "No my good man. I'm afraid Haldir had an accident and died last night."
The shepherd blinked. "Dead?"
"Yes. As are his men, or as good as. You need not pay anything."
"Haldir's dead? Haldir's dead! Oh praise be to you lady, you have freed us from a tyrant. He would demand impossible quotas from us, and if we did not pay he would hurt us, our families…"
Velaris motioned for him for him to be silent. "I'm aware of what's been going on here. You can take anything you want from the camp after I'm done here."
The shepherd bowed, clearly for the first time in his life. "Thank you lady. You must come to my cottage. My wife will fix you up a meal the likes of which you've never seen!"
"Alas I must decline your offer. But you go and celebrate. And tell the other shepherds in the area too."
"Aye lady. And thank ye again!"
The Fighting Pit
Four days later, Velaris and Surt
were walking through the busy streets of the trading town of
They strolled past a typical looking inn called the Blue Dragon, and as they were about to pass by, Velaris noticed a sign on the side over an alleyway leading behind the inn, which read:
Test your skill in the fighting pit. All creeds and races welcome!
Cash prizes!
See behind the inn for details
Normally Velaris would not have given it a second glance. But she could fight, and these were desperate times.
"Velaris, you're not thinking what I think you're thinking are you?"
"Let's at least take a look," she said, and without waiting for a reply picked him up and headed down the alley.
This inn's yard had been turned into a crude fighting arena. Gathered around the pit in the centre were a variety of individuals. Some were merely onlookers, enjoying the sport before them. Others were fighters, and she saw some of them were professional by the way they moved.
They didn't get a very good look because a man stopped them before they got out of the ally.
"Evening ma'am. Want to take a look? One copper piece admittance. I'll let the leprechaun in for free."
"What? I have to pay just to get in?"
"That's about the size of it, aye."
Velaris sighed and gave him a coin, and before Surt could comment she moved on.
Inside the pit two fighters were testing their skill against each other.
One was an ogre, a nine feet tall, immensely strong, brutish looking thing with green-grey skin and foul odour. The other was its opposite- a tall slender elf. Both were armed with wooden swords.
It was the ultimate mismatch, but not in the ogre's favour.
"What’s going on?" asked Velaris to the man next to her; she had to shout for all of the noise.
"It is said that the elf beat three armed men with nothing but his bare hands a few nights ago. When the innkeeper saw his skill, he convinced him to go in the pit. Some wish he hadn't though, as no one can beat him."
"No one?" Velaris asked.
"He hasn’t even been touched."
She watched the elf fight. He practically danced around the ogre, tapping it on the feet and legs with his sword as it struggled to even face him. Finally it was clear who the victor was, and the fight was called to a close.
"Victor and still unbeaten, Kordonel!" shouted a man who stood on some sort of wooden pedestal. On it a hurried note read: 'Dras: The Pitmaster.'
Cheers erupted from several parts of the yard, while others remained quiet. Clearly, the elf was loved by some and loathed by others.
"Now who else will challenge? Hmmm? Is there anyone else here who thinks they might even come close to the skill of Kordonel?"
Silence.
The elf was good. All elves are good. They’re fast, but there's always someone faster. She'd beaten elves before.
She glanced at Surt, who sighed. "Go on then, if you must."
Moments later she found herself in the pit armed with a crude wooden sword. Her daggers had been taken, and she felt strangely naked without them. They were always there in the real world, but now they'd been taken away. She hadn't been formally trained with the daggers as she had been with her sword. She'd learned how to use them in what little spare time she was given. Her best friend at the time, Tirrius, had given her the boots she still wore; they had slots built in them for the knives. Sadly Tirrius had failed in his duties in a way still unknown to her, and had effectively been punished by being sent to Magador. The last letter she'd got from him before her incident said that he was stationed in Haleport, and would be for some time. That was over a year ago, but he'd probably still be there.
She smiled, thinking about how things had turned out. The elf smiled back.
She thought back to her childhood and saw her father. His kind face looked down on her as they walked by a stream, and he'd tell her about everything he knew. She remembered her father’s words about the elves:
"Elves are fast, very fast, some faster than you would believe. They are clever and cunning, and many know how to use a variety of weapons. They're an arrogant people, though some, I among them, would say the arrogance is backed up. They are travellers, and don't like being underground or even inside for too long. They have no homeland, but can be found almost anywhere. I'm sure they have a history, but I know nothing of it. It seems they make it a point that no one does. A good ally and a terrible foe."
A gong sounded, and the contest began.
She had some sort of a plan. The elf's weakness was his confidence, his pride in his abilities. She'd make him overconfident, then strike. That was the plan anyway.
The elf thrust for Velaris’s chest but she blocked it, though just a fraction of a second after she would have done normally. Her sword whirled around and down, aiming for the head, but to her astonishment, the elf was not there anymore; he had moved aside so fast that Velaris had not seen him. She saw him before he could make good is advantage though, and as he swiped, Velaris ducked, feeling the blade tug at her hair, and then thrust. The Elf jumped back and managed to avoid contact, but only just.
BONG
They froze. The gong had sounded, signalling an end to the fight.
"Ladies and Gentlemen, the winner of the contest, Velaris!"
"Eh?" Velaris blurted, surprised. "But I never…"
"What skill!" continued Bras drowning out anything else she would say. "A clear cut to the abdomen. Instant kill. Well done Velaris, come and collect your prize money."
Velaris glanced at the elf, who hadn't moved. He looked at her, then as she walked past him; he whispered "Meet me after."
She collected her money, which wasn't a great amount considering what she was just supposed to have done, and left hurriedly after collecting her equipment, wanting to be out of the place as soon as possible.
The elf was waiting for her on the street.
"Seems they were getting sick of me."
"I had nothing to do with that." She told him.
"I know. It was set up, to be rid of me. I was not an asset any more it seems. I'm Kordonel."
"Velaris."
"And who’s the Leprechaun?" he asked looking down on him the way one would look at a small child.
"That’s Surt."
Before they could say more, a man approached them. Kordonel saw him first. He marched up to them, and had the look of the military about him, short black hair, a stern manner, and a walk to match. He wore a white and red uniform, but it was torn and filthy. Velaris recognised the uniform of a soldier of Magador, and thought it very strange a soldier would be out here. The man's face was clean but unshaven. He had a wild look about him. A deserter she instantly assumed, though waited for him to speak.
"Excuse the interruption," he said, bowing to her a lot better than the shepherd had done. "My name is Hesht. I must speak with you all on a very important matter."
"What? Are we in trouble?" Surt asked.
"No nothing like that. But you must please come with me to my room in the Blue Dragon."
Kordonel glanced at Velaris. The woman seemed strangely uncomfortable, almost threatened by the man, though he was sure she did not know nor fear him. "I would follow. But we are not together. I cannot speak for her."
"I will come also." She said after a long moment.
Hesht looked at Surt.
"What? Yeah, like I have a choice."
Dire News
The rooms at the inn were roughly furnished; a hard bed, a wooden chair and table, a cupboard (this one with one door missing), and a chest. Velaris instantly saw that his small window looked out onto the combat pit at the back.
Hesht went to the window and looked out of it as he spoke. "I am a soldier stationed at Haleport, a city to the south. Do you know it?"
"I know of it," said Velaris, concern now evident in her voice, for it was where Tirrius was.
"I have heard of it," Kordonel said. "Though I have never been."
Hesht looked back into the room at them. Surt was sat on the chest, Velaris on the chair, and Kordonel stood by the door.
"Haleport is under siege. It has been for some weeks now. We have sent for aid to Rustor the Capital, but they will not aid us. We received a message from them, saying the king is ill. The king is too ill to make a decision, but while he is alive no military action can take place without his say so!" Hesht was suddenly seething. "We must fight and die because the king is ill and the pompous bastards won't break some stupid law!"
He hit the table with his fist, then sighed and slumped on the bed.
"We… we cannot hold out much longer…" he began to weep, his hands clenched in anger. "It is the tar'tchii! We have been fighting the tar'tchii for weeks and have had no aid!" Velaris, unsure of what to do or think at this point, reached out and put a hand on his shoulder. The contact seemed to remind him that they were still there, and he instantly stood up and began drying his eyes. Though she did not know this man, Velaris was sure this was totally out of character for him.
"Sorry…" he said. "I'm sorry."
They all waited a while for him to compose himself.
"I've been watching out there…" he continued. "The pit. I knew that if I found someone who beat the elf I'd have found who I'm looking for…" he suddenly stopped.
"What?" Kordonel pushed.
Hesht sat down again. "I was sent to bring back warriors to help. Some sort of special mission they have in mind, though I do not know its nature. But they had to be good fighters. I know that you'll be good enough for whatever is planned."
"You want us to go back to Haleport with you?" asked Kordonel.
Hesht nodded. "It will be dangerous, I know. But the rewards will be great."
"I must come," Velaris said. "I know someone there who is a very good friend of mine."
She caught Surt's warning look, reminding her of what may happen if someone might recognise her, but she had to take the risk. She looked away.
"You can keep your reward, I'm coming anyway." Kordonel told him. "You said you fight the tar'tchii. They are a disgrace to natures work, and do not deserve to exist. I will fight them wherever they are."
Velaris frowned. "I know not of what you speak. Who are the tar'tchii?"
"They are monsters!" Hesht exclaimed.
"They come from the earth," Kordonel said in a more even tone. "From the mountains. They are black, vicious, evil things. They are blind when it is light, and it hurts them. They only come out at night."
"Yes, always at night the attacks came," Hesht said, then his eyes seemed to glaze over. "Thousands of them. Screaming, screeching. Almost invisible in the blackness. Blackness. Some of them could climb the walls faster than they can walk. Other flying ones attack from above, decapitating and mutilating. Awful…"
He drifted off.
Velaris thought the man clearly traumatised by the horrors he'd seen. He was clearly a good soldier, but he needed rest, and shouldn't go back to Haleport. But she was now more concerned with getting to Haleport and finding Tirrius.
"We should leave now," she said.
"No. We need to organise horses and provisions," Kordonel said. "How many days travel?"
"Close to five. And yes you are right, we should leave tomorrow," Hesht answered, his eyes now clear.
Velaris knew they were right, though if it were up to her she would have left right then.
"What of Surt?" Kordonel asked.
Velaris had almost forgotten about him, agreeing to go without so much as looking at him to see what he thought. At that moment she couldn't bring herself to look at him when he gave his answer.
"Me? Well thanks for asking. I think I'll come along, just because I think I'm the only sane one among you."
"Then it's settled," Hesht stood. "Kordonel, you handle the horses and everything. You should find enough money in the chest there. Velaris, Surt, book a room here. We have things to discuss," he stopped, and smiled apologetically. "I'm sorry. Sometimes I forget I'm not in the army out here."
Later, as Kordonel was buying horses and provisions for their journey and Surt went to their new room for a rest, Velaris and Hesht talked in the bar. Though Velaris only had water, Hesht had ordered a whiskey. She made it a point to keep this conversation short in case he should drink any more. It was quieter than normal, though just as dark. However they could faintly hear sounds from the pit at the back.
"Is Surt your familiar?" Hesht asked.
She gave him a puzzled smile. "No."
"Oh. I thought you may be a mage."
She shook her said. "I'm no mage. He is though."
He sat back. "Surt?"
"Yes. And a good one too."
"Oh," Hesht seemed to be disappointed. Then he laughed. "I thought… I thought he was your pet."
Velaris didn't find it funny. Just because he was small, people thought less of him or people just plain forgot about him. Just like she'd done earlier.
"What's your friends name?" he asked, totally changing the subject.
"Tirrius."
"Ah, I know the man."
"You know him?" Velaris was shocked.
"Yes. Bloody good fighter he is too. They were going to send him out instead of me, but he wouldn't go."
That sounded like Tirrius she thought. "He's alright then? He's not…"
"He's fine. Well when I left he was anyway. It will take a lot to kill Tirrius though."
Velaris breathed a sight or relief, then looked at the clock on the wall. "I think we should retire now," she said, feigning a yawn.
"But what of plans? Do you now want to hear about the tar'tchii, or the city?"
She rose from her chair. "Yes, but later. It's a long road ahead."
Hesht put his head in his hands and rubbed his face. "You are right."
They said their good nights, and Velaris went to their room. They'd made sure it was at the front, so they wouldn't have the noise of the pit at the back which seemed to go on for most of the night. When she went in, Surt was awake. He was sat on the bed and seemed to be waiting for her.
"I thought you were going to sleep," she said, crossing the room and sitting next to him.
"Couldn't sleep. I've been thinking."
"What about?" she asked, tossing off her boots.
"Lots of things. Us. All this."
"Oh," Velaris realised this was going to be an important conversation. She took off her sword belt and lay it on the bed behind them.
"I've decided a few things." Surt said. He stopped there, as if the rest of what he would say wouldn't come. When he did speak again the words were strained. "I've decided that if we ever get through this business alive, I can't travel with you any more."
She didn't say anything at first. She knew the life was hard for him, because it was hard for her. She also knew the time would come when they'd part ways.
"I'm sorry," he mumbled.
"You're sorry? What for? If anyone should be sorry then it's me. I brought you into this life."
He shook his small head, and looked up at her. "You gave me a life. You stopped me from becoming part of some freak show," he looked down at the floor again. "But it's too hard. I though that if we saved the city, by doing whatever they have planned, then they'd let me stay. Give me a place to live maybe."
Velaris nodded, agreeing with his logic.
"I will miss you…"
"Hey!" she said, pushing him playfully to the point where he almost fell off the bed. "I'm still here! And will be for a while yet. So lets have no more talk of this."
"All right."
Still she still had trouble getting to sleep that night. Such a difference this day had made. Yesterday her biggest worry was where the next bronze piece would come from. Now Surt would be leaving, and she was going to a place she'd never been before, to fight a foe she'd never fought before. And there was the risk that someone from Oun may recognise her. If that would happen she knew full well that she'd sentenced to death. But Tirrius was in trouble, and she had to go.
Hunter and Hunted
A scream pieced her sleep and jarred her awake. Instantly alert, she grabbed her blade and dashed out of the room with Surt in close pursuit. Down the hall she could see Kordonel outside Hesht's room. She stopped when she reached him.
"What's going on?"
"No!" came a voice from Hesht's room. "You cannot make me go back!"
"That's Hesht," explained the elf. "I came to rouse him for the journey, and find this!"
"I'll never go back! Never! The dark! The dark!"
"Great. He's insane." Surt sighed.
As if in agreement, Kordonel turned away from the door and leaned on the banister which looked out onto the bar. A few people looked up to see what was going on, but no one really seemed to care. "He's clearly not coming with us. I think it best for everyone if we just leave now without him."
Velaris looked at the door, but no more sounds came from beyond. "Think he'll be alright?"
He shrugged. "Maybe. Maybe not. We cannot do anything for him."
"But we may need him," Surt reminded them. "He may have a way in."
Kordonel nodded at turned back to them. "Maybe. But he would not be any good to us like that. I do not want to stay here and wait to see if he pulls himself round. It may take weeks, if not longer."
Velaris agreed with him. "You're right we should leave now," she was careful to leave room for Surt's point of view this time.
The little man shrugged. "Seems you've made up your minds. When do we leave?"
They left the town of
A large pine dominated forest, not unreasonably called the Pine Woods, stretched to the sea some eighty or so miles away and so would be with them the whole way. Velaris was thankful for it; better that than being in the open. By the time they stopped at the end of the first day the last day birds were singing to the sky, filling the otherwise silent air with their sound. The trees cast long and bizarre shadows over the three travellers as if warning them of the dangers ahead and urging them to turn back.
As night fell they camped inside a dead oak tree. Kordonel would take out a tiny flute and play it softly. After a while, several nocturnal animals; two badgers, an owl, rabbits, hedgehogs, and even a fox came and sat at the entrance to listen together in harmony. Surt quietly asked him to stop, in case he attract some more undesirable animals. Kordonel laughed, but did so.
"Kordonel, what do you think about killing animals?" Velaris asked him after getting over the sheer magic and joy of the moment.
"Why do you ask?"
She got the feeling he knew her answer before she told him it. "I've killed wolves. They kill sheep, so I get paid for killing the wolf."
"What do you think? Is that moral?"
"I've never thought about it…"
"Ah, that's what I thought you'd say. It's in your nature, you can't help it."
Before she could say anything, he went back to playing his flute, effectively ending the discussion.
At around
"That doesn't sound good," Surt groaned.
Kordonel seemed to smell the air, and was about to say something when the sky above them was totally blacked as the sun was obscured by something huge overhead. Looking up, Velaris got the sight of her life. A rare giant eagle flew right over them, its size impossible to guess because of the briefness of the encounter. They were found in the highest reached of the Kezamkain mountains, and what one was doing here she couldn’t begin to wonder.
And before they could say or do anything four riders in black and armed to the teeth dashed across the road ahead in pursuit of it.
"No!" Kordonel shouted. "Stop!"
He spurred his mount on after the riders. Velaris had little choice but to follow after and Surt, who travelled in her saddlebag, could only hold on as best he could.
She raced through the woods feeling branches scraping at her arms and legs, and tried to keep the elf in sight. But he was a much better rider and she lost him, but kept heading in that direction and soon started to hear noises so followed them instead. Several moments later Velaris entered a large clearing, and she saw the largest of the strangers, who were clearly out to kill the bird, galloping towards the eagle with his lance lowered. It seemed to be injured, and its massive wings, some sixty feet across she guessed, flapped once and this was enough to clear the lance, steed and rider, and the man went crashing into the wood beyond. Strangely there was no sign of Kordonel anywhere.
However another of the men, who was armed with a longbow, fired and hit the eagle in one of its vast wings. Again that same sound of pain filled her ears, and the eagle turned on the man. He tried to get away but couldn't, and he and his horse were both torn to pieces with its huge beak and talons.
The largest of the men reappeared from where he had disappeared and charged again. The eagle lashed out with its good wing, which caused the horse to rear up and unseated the man. He fell mostly on his head with a loud thud, which made Velaris cringe. She galloped around the edge of the clearing, well out of the way of the enraged eagle, to get a closer look at the man. He was lying prone on the ground, and his horse had disappeared. She decided to dismount and approached. He wore an open helm, and she could see half of his face was covered in blood. He was dressed in an assortment of armour, all of which had been dyed black for a reason unknown to her. She knew what the men were well enough though, as she was almost one herself. They were Hunters- those who hunt rare or dangerous beasts for the prize of their skin, meat, or whatever was considered valuable from them. She had little sympathy for the man.
His good eye suddenly opened! As soon as he saw her, his bare fist shot up and caught her on the chin. Velaris fell backwards, landing with a thump on the grass. The man rose and drew his sword.
He was about to strike when an arrow struck it out of his hand. Kordonel rode towards them, bow in hand. As he past, Kordonel tried to hit the man with the bow's shaft but he ducked and it past harmlessly over his head. By the time he'd recovered his blade again Velaris had pulled herself up and her sword was ready in her hand.
Her enemy was armed with a huge hand-and-a-half sword, she'd never be able to survive a blow from that, but it would be harder and slower to swing, and so easier avoided. He made a lunge for her, which she adeptly dodged, and his momentum carried him on further than he would have intended; his blade became embedded in a tree behind her. She swiped for his neck but he reached out deflected the blade with his other hand upon which was a gauntlet, and the two pieces of metal somehow becoming entangled. She struggled against him, but he was bigger and stronger. He grabbed her neck and leaned forward. She could smell his foul breath, and some of his blood trickled onto her face. "Well little girl… what do you think you're doing out so far from home?"
"I-," she gasped. "I think you're forgetting something…"
"What?" he sneered.
She looked to her right. He turned to see what she was looking at, and dropped her in shock. She grabbed her sword and it came free from his gauntlet.
The eagle came for him, and with a terrible and deafening screech akin to a Sirens Call, it picked him up in its talons. It did not kill him, but instead flew away intent on feeding its young.
Surt, who had been struggling to get out of the saddlebag the whole time, saw a remaining Hunter creeping around behind Velaris, his weapon at the ready.
"Look out!" he cried.
Velaris glanced over her shoulder and saw him. She reached for her daggers, ready to fight. When there was an audible thud and the man's expression changed to one of anger to one of pain. He fell before her with an arrow in his back. She fully expected to see Kordonel beyond, but instead there was a beautiful young elven woman.
Shocked, Velaris looked for Kordonel, and saw him standing over the body of the remaining Hunter with a blooded long sword in his hand.
The elf woman strolled over and helped Velaris to her feet.
"Thank you." Velaris said, noting her soft touch despite the fact she clearly lived in the wild.
The newcomer had long dark hair, and was dressed completely in green and white silks. She was taller than Velaris, which was unusual as she was generally the tallest woman of any group, but then elves were a naturally tall race.
"No," the woman said, looking at her with green eyes. "Thank you. I saw you try to save that Eagle. It is unusual for humans to have such cares."
"Yes. We're not all that bad you know, though I must confess it was Kordonel here who spurred me into action."
The newcomer turned to Kordonel. "I thank you also Kordonel. I had been after those four for many days, and have now have finally caught them."
"Your thanks are welcome but not needed. Might we have the pleasure of your name?"
"My apologies, I forget myself. My name is Eledora."
When Eledora learned that the three travellers she had just met were on their way to Haleport to slay tar'tchii she immediately wanted to go with them. She, like Kordonel and all elves, had a deep-rooted hatred of the tar'tchii which Velaris did not understand, nor did she really want to. They did not want to turn down any extra help, and gladly accepted Eledora into their company as she'd already proved herself capable with a bow. They told her of Hesht, and that they didn't know exactly what they were getting themselves in for. It did seem like a fool's quest at the very least, but each had their reasons for going, reward or not.
Eledora took one of the Hunters horses; one that ran off when its rider was killed, and she rode on that. Clearly it had been badly mistreated, and when they stopped for the night she insisted on cleaning and brushing the animal before she ate with them.
Entrance to the City
Three days later the four companions neared the city of
"Haleport's about two miles away," Eledora, who knew the area, told them. "We shouldn't approach the city at night, as the tar'tchii become active."
"Then let's wait here then." Surt said.
"I would like to see the city though," said Velaris. "Can we not take a look- from a distance. It will help us to plan for tomorrow if we can see the city."
"Well I for one have no intentions of going anywhere tonight," said Kordonel. "There is a darkness here. Nothing lives."
"It's the tar'tchii," Eledora told them. "They've killed everything."
"All the same," pressed Velaris. "I think it would be best if I see the city."
Eledora paused a while, considering. "Very well. I'll take you to see the city. Though we cannot linger there long."
Eledora and Velaris crawled on their bellies and pushed through the dense foliage to see the city beyond. Night had fallen by this time, though the two moons lit the sky well enough. Apparently, the tar'tchii did not have the same problem with moonlight as they did with sunlight, as it was clear there was activity ahead. "Stay absolutely still, and don't make a sound," Eledora suddenly said.
"Why-?"
She soon got her answer. Movement, straight ahead! Two figures were just several feet ahead of them. Though the branches obscured them it was clear whatever they were that they were big and heavy; each of their footsteps made the ground vibrate a little.
"It should be a good night," one of them spoke. It's voice (it was clear that it was an it, and not a he or she) was barely audible, but the rasping hissing sound which it made somehow formed words.
"Has there ever been a bad one?"
"How many fell?"
"Twenty."
"Not enough. This takes too long."
"They are slow to die."
"It matters not. It is mealy delaying the inevitable."
"I can almost smell them even now."
"Yes… they seem so close…"
"We will go now."
"Yes, much killing to be done."
With that, the things before them seemed to grow, until Velaris realised that they were spreading their wings. They felt gusts of cold, stinking air as they began to flap their wings, until they slowly left the ground and flew off towards the city.
For several minutes they lay there, hardly daring to breathe. Velaris's heart was pounding in her ears; her body bathed in sweat. Eledora tapped her on the shoulder, and motioned that they could go on. A few feet more and they'd penetrated the foliage and looked upon Haleport.
The city was, or at least seemed to be, in ruins. Entire sections of the stone fortifications were scorched and blackened, and several of the towers were ablaze. An orange glow came from behind the walls, indicating that fires raged within as well. And all over the walls things, creatures, swarmed. They were crawling all over the walls, up and down the towers, clawing their way through the mortar itself. Overhead at least a dozen black winged creatures flew, diving into and out of the city. As she watched, Velaris saw one of these creatures pluck someone from the battlements, fly hundreds of feet into the air, and then let them fall back into the city.
On the water they could make out things floating around; bodies and bits of debris.
Before the walls, thousands more of the tar'tchii swarmed, trying to gain access. Arrows and boulders were launched from the battlements into them. It was impossible to see how many, if any at all, fell. They were so black. They covered the land like a bottomless abyss.
The sounds of the battle reached them. Shouts, cries, screams. It was easy to distinguish between the human cries and the cries of the tar'tchii. Their voices were thrill and high pitched, and hurt the ears.
Velaris had seen enough. "Can we go now?"
Eledora lead her away from the city, back the way they'd come. After several thousand feet she said they were safe, and it was then that Velaris doubled up and vomited.
"Am I missing something here?" Surt asked.
It was morning again, and they were stood where Velaris had been taken the night before. The sun was shining brightly, Velaris thought it was the best sight she'd ever seen. Now there was no sign of the tar'tchii now. There was no sign of anything.
When one thinks of a castle under siege, one thinks of it being surrounded
by trenches, tents, war engines, and, above all, an army. But there was
nothing. Between them and the city of
"No tar'tchii?" Eledora guessed, then nodded towards the flat land before them. "They're under there, asleep. Sunlight kills them. They are creatures of darkness and so only come out when it is dark." She spat out the last sentence out as if it was a piece of rotten fruit.
"So if we were to walk on it…" Surt ventured
"You'd be sensed and dragged down to your death." Kordonel finished for him.
"Right. Thought so."
"So we go by sea then." Velaris guessed. Despite the idea of the formulation of a plan after she'd seen the city, she'd been able to think of nothing but the horrific sights she'd witnessed. Surt had wanted to speak to her, no doubt to warn her one last time of the risk she was taking even if they got into the city safely, but she couldn't bring herself to talk much at all. She'd seen death, she'd seen battle and bloodshed. But what she'd seen last night was something else; something she'd never seen before. The tar'tchii frightened her.
"We’d need a boat. The current is too strong if you swim; you'd be dragged out to sea if you went too far out."
"Can't we just say close to the edge?"
Eledora shook her head. "No it is too risky. With the current on one side and those monsters on the other, I'm willing to bet one would claim us."
"So does anyone have any idea about how to get in?" Surt enquired.
No one said anything.
"The same way I got out!" Came a voice from behind them. It was Hesht.
"Hesht?" Velaris as stunned. "What are you doing here?"
"What do you think I'm doing here?" he asked, looking down from his horse. "I knew you wouldn't be able to get in without me."
"But you…"
"I know I know. But I've pulled myself together." He dismounted, and set his horse free. They had left their horses untethered in the camp, knowing that they'd wander off if they didn't return any time soon.
"It was foolish of you to leave." Hesht went on. "I had to ride hard to catch you, for fear that you'd try something that would get yourselves killed. Now come, let's not waste time."
No time did they waste, not even to introduce Hesht and Eledora, as he led them away from the city and down to a cobble beach. They walked along it, and all the while Hesht was looking for something. Surt gave Velaris a few looks to make sure she knew he thought Hesht was not thinking totally straight, and she was about to believe him when he suddenly cried "Ah here it is!"
He rushed up to a cluster of long grass, and began to tug on something behind it. "Well give me some help."
They approached, somewhat cautiously, and found that he was dragging out a small rowing boat! Instantly and without another word they helped drag it into the water. It would quite easily accommodate all of them.
"They gave me this to get out. It was the last one. The rest of the ships have been broken up by the tar'tchii."
"I was wondering why they hadn't tried to escape via the sea." Kordonel mused. "The tar'tchii are more intelligent than perhaps they are given credit for."
"They are monsters," Eledora told him, as if he'd heard this for the first time. "They are an affront to nature. They must be destroyed."
"Discuss this later," Velaris snapped. She was suddenly eager to be in the city. She couldn't help thinking that the man who was dropped to his death could have been Tirrius. She had to know if he was alright or not.
Clambering aboard, Hesht took the oars and they left the shore behind. Almost instantly Hesht had to once again fight against the current which tried to drag them out to sea, but in the boat it was less of a problem. Soon he was rowing them silently by the stretch of barren land where the tar'tchii were supposed to be resting. Valeris examined it but could see no sign of them.
Past the invisible barrier they sailed, and onto the city itself.
The once proud outer walls were now visibly scared because of the battles which had been fought upon them. One of the towers was nothing more than a burnt out shell, and thick grey smoke still poured from it and from several other origins also. Bodies were scattered about; some floated in the water and some before the walls. Velaris was almost sick again. Then she suddenly realised that all the bodies were human; there was no sign of any tar'tchii dead.
Someone who was keeping a drowsy watch on the battlements saw them first, and within moments there was a hive of activity as people got ready to greet the new arrivals, and exited shouts were received as Hesht waved to those who were watching. He was almost pleased to be back. He may well be regarded as a hero.
What were they expecting? Velaris wondered. She didn't like the thought of all the people pinning their hopes on her and the others. Two weeks ago she was hunting wolves for Mord's sake! Did so much hinge on this one mission? And what was it they needed to do? She wanted answers to a great many questions, and now she was going to get them.
They passed the wall and saw the inside of the city for the first time. Velaris couldn't help but gasp in shock. Many of the buildings, one fine and clean and made of wood and stone, were now little more than broken shells; relics as to what the city once looked like. Around the docks were littered dozens of ships, big and small, all broken and unserviceable, and needing more repairs than the people were able to summon the energy for. The people crowded round the docks now, in filthy and in rags, and shouted excitedly as the small rowing boat neared the jetty.
Naively she'd thought that the crowd of filthy and starving people had come to greet them, but she was wrong. They barely had time to get out of the small boat before the people fell upon it as if it were a pile of gold, though at that time it was much more valuable than that. It was a way out of the hell they'd been subjected to. They watched as, like rabid dogs, they tried to get aboard the small craft and push it away. Almost instantly it became overloaded, and capsized sending the people (some soldiers were among them) crashing in the water. They were quite safe from the deadly undercurrent in the docks of course, but as it had capsized the boat hit against a useless anchor, which made a large gash in one side, and it quickly sank.
The Past Returns
The conditions in the city were truly worse than any of them could have expected. The people were exhausted. Many lay asleep on the streets or even on the battlements were they fought. They could see instantly that the people were malnourished. Indeed fresh water and food had been rationed down to a bare minimum. Velaris saw one man talking to himself, clearly having drank too much of the sea water, which was now polluted with decaying bodies. The risk of disease was huge, and it was a miracle that there wasn't some sort of an epidemic already.
Whatever they'd been brought here to do, they'd better do it in a hurry.
They were taken to city hall, where a man named Halladir was expecting them Hesht informed them. He was the General of the Army of Haleport, and city hall was now his central command centre. They were granted access to the building; there were more important things to worry about than security, and quickly granted an audience with General Halladir in one of the antechambers. Inside it seemed as if chaos reigned. Everywhere around the large main assembly hall people were rushing about from one place to the next with scraps of information. It seemed as if communications proper had broken down and everything was been done by word of mouth. In the centre a large table had been set up, around which people bickered and argued. As they past it, Velaris heard at least three separate arguments going on at once.
"Humans…" she heard Eledora say, though whatever else she said was lost in the babble. She could take a good guess though, but she had no time for the elves and their arrogance. She wanted to find Tirrius.
They were escorted to a side room by two guards who looked like they had not seen sleep in several days. One of them opened the door for them and they entered. It was a small room, with a large round table set in the centre and several chairs all about it. Other than the table and chairs there was no other furniture in the room. Upon the table and across three of the walls were spread many pieces of parchment with maps, notes and charts upon them. At the far end of the table sat Halladir, though he stood to greet them when they entered. Halladir was a tall man; though not well built there was something about him which symbolised strength and power. It was hard to guess his age, though he must have been around forty. He was dressed in a white and red uniform, supplemented with armour that had clearly seen a lot of recent use. He had jet-black hair and a beard to match. Both had been cut short but now were in serious need of a trim, though that would have been the least of his priorities.
"Ah welcome," he said, in a deep commanding voice. "Captain Hesht. You have done well indeed. You may now rest a while, before returning to your unit. A promotion will be yours if we survive."
"Sir," Hesht stood to attention, then left closing the door behind him and shutting out most of the noise from the hall as well.
"Please take a seat," he addressed all of them as he did so. "First, let me give you my up-most thanks to you for travelling here in the first place. I am General Halladir, commander of this army. I'm afraid I do not know any of you."
They told him their names.
"Hesht was told to bring back some excellent fighters and I see he did not disappoint."
"While you're comments are welcome sir, we'd much rather you tell us what we're doing here." Kordonel cut in without seeming rude.
Something softened behind his eyes. "It s a terrible business. We lose men daily. Or perhaps I should say nightly. Has Hesht informed you of the Tar'tchii nature? Good. Food and water are running too low, and the risk if disease is, well, becoming less of a risk and more of a certainty. This attack has lasted close to two months now, though it seems so much longer. What's worse, they seem to be toying with us. However I have a gut feeling that this will end soon and they will overwhelm us. But we have one last chance, and it is a good thing you've arrived when you did. Though perhaps not for you." He yawned, but continued in the same tone. "During some attacks on the city we were able to capture and… interrogate several of the tar'tchii. We have learned a great deal about them that we did not do before. Though most of it is useless, at least in our current situation, one fact may prove invaluable. They have a leader."
"The tar'tchii are led?" gasped Kordonel.
"Yes. Quite the same reaction was had from us. It seems that there is a great deal about this foe which remains unknown. And what we do not know is to their advantage. That is why we must use this to our advantage. The one that leads them is known among its kind as Vasoomb. It has been described, and several sightings of it have been reported. Vasoomb directs the attacks. It organises and plans them. It is their brain, as it were."
"And are we to kill the brain?" Velaris assumed.
Halladir nodded slowly and deliberately, though seemed somewhat surprised she'd guessed this. "It stays out of reach, always. We have not been able to reach it even with bow fire, and no one in the city has the speciality of skills needed. Without seeming to be stereotypical, it seems the elves and their abilities would be adept at this job."
To Velaris's surprise, Kordonel nodded.
"And what of you Velaris?" Halladir asked. "And Surt. What are your proficiencies?"
"I am a mage of immense power," Surt said.
"Really?" Halladir said, obviously disbelieving and smiling a little. "Well you will be invaluable then."
"I…" Velaris began, then stopped. What should she say? "I'm from Oun. I was in a regiment of Swordmasters in the army stationed at Zaradorn, but killed my commanding officer and fled." She thought the truth inappropriate. "I need to find someone here. A close friend. Tirrius is his name." She hoped the change of subject would cause him to drop the question.
Halladir sat back in his chair. "Tirrius… I have heard some tales of him. I'll have someone find him for you."
"Thank you," Velaris said, relief evident in her voice.
Smiling, Halladir rose from his chair like an old man who'd been disturbed from his rest. "If you'll excuse me, the day is young and there are many things to do. I'll inform one of my officers of your arrival and he will see to your needs."
The left the small room and were subjected once again to the chaos of the main hall. Halladir took them across it (with some difficulty, as many things needed his attention and he had to literally fight his way past many people wishing his council) to the far side. There he addressed a man wearing the red and black uniform of Oun who had his back to them.
"Officer Candara, these are the mercenaries who will try to kill Vasoomb. They require living quarters and more information than I had time to give them."
The man turned, and Velaris's eyes widened in shock.
"It will be done, though I still think my men are more than capable… Velaris!" Candara, the Oun officer, pointed at her as if he'd seen a ghost, his thin black beard quivered slightly. "How dare you show your face here!"
"I'm not here for trouble…" she said, though even then knew anything she'd have said would have been futile. Candara had been her sergeant when she was in the Oun army up until about one-year ago. A stickler for rules and discipline (even more so than usual) and one of the very few friends of officer Poledouris, the same officer she'd served under, and slain.
"What's going on here?" demanded Halladir.
"This woman is a deserter," Candara almost shouted with rage. "Worse still, a murderer! She slew her commander in cold blood!"
"That's not true!" she snapped back. "He would have raped me. Poledouris was a dog of a man, and his death long overdue!"
Candara drew himself up. He was not a big man, but he was lithe as an eel. He could fight, was a damn good tactician, and was extremely intelligent. It was little surprise to her that he'd made it up the ranks so quickly, though Velaris was still surprised to find him in Magador.
"You see, she freely admits it. I demand she be put to death immediately!"
"No!" shouted Surt but no one seemed to hear him.
Halladir stepped forward and make a notable barrier between the gap that had formed between Candara and Velaris. "Is this true? Did you kill an officer?"
Velaris nodded after a time knowing that denying it would do no good, not least because she was a terrible liar. "It was self defence. He was… acting discourteously toward me," she found herself falling back into the formal military speech.
"Rubbish!" Candara spat.
"Be silent all of you!" Halladir ordered. They did so, as did all those who heard nearby until they realised that he did not address them. No one paid any attention to the group. He turned to Velaris. "I'm sorry, but you will be placed under arrest."
"What? No!" Surt spoke up. She'd told him what had happened, and he'd tried to warn her about coming here but she'd been adamant. Now he didn't know what was going to happen.
But Velaris knew there was no way of getting out of it.
"This business will have to be sorted out later," Halladir went on, then called for two nearby guards. "Escort this woman to the jailhouse," he ordered them.
"But sir, the jailhouse is already overflowing with looters and thieves."
"The dungeon!" Candara injected, then turned to Halladir. "Sir, the dungeon has cells empty now that two of the tar'tchii died."
Halladir groaned his frustration. "Very well. Take her to the dungeon, but she is not to be harmed in any way. Make that clear when you get there."
"Yes sir!" the guards saluted Halladir, then turned to Velaris. "Ma'am, your weapons?"
She took off her sword belt and removed the knives from her boots, and gave them to the guards before they led her away.
"Take care of Surt," she said to Kordonel.
"No! Stop! Where are you taking her?" Surt began to chase after, but was grabbed by Kordonel. He watched them disappear into the crowd, and wished to all the gods that they hadn't come to this place.
The Thing in the Dark
The dungeon was situated under one of the towers. It was used as a torture chamber more than a holding cell, though escape from it was virtually impossible. Barring the way out were two huge steel gates, which could only be opened via a mechanism which was well out of reach from inside the dungeon. A short flight of slippery stone steps led down to the dungeon itself. It was a large underground room, lit by flickering torches that were constantly being blown by a breeze. It was very dark, and very cold. There were three steel cages, made in the same design as the door, which were just big enough to accommodate one person. These cages were fastened to the stone floor, and large padlocks locked the doors to the cages who's keys hung a full fifty feet away on the opposite wall, though were still in full view and would provide a torture of their own. Velaris found herself inside one of these cages.
Cruel, evil torture implements were scattered all around the room, making even the most ignorant of men aware of just what the chamber was used for. This was so different to the equivalent she was used to in Oun. There torture was regarded (by some) as a delicate art. Here she couldn't help the feeling that the people of Magador were indeed the brutish barbarians they were said to be.
And she was not alone. There was something chained to the rack. A black thing- a tar'tchii.
She went absolutely still when she saw it. At first she thought she was alone, and that it was just another shadow. But she slowly became aware that it was not a shadow; it had substance. And then it moved.
"Please. No more. End it now."
It's hollow voice echoed around the room, filling her with fear and sending a chill feeling down her spine. She began to panic. Trapped underground with one of those things, and she trapped again inside a cage. She began to shake uncontrollably with dread.
Through she looked at it she still couldn't make out a form. She could make out its arms; long spindly threads reminding her of traps of torn cloth, while it's legs were much shorter and thicker. But when looking it its thin body she couldn't make out anything. It was like a piece of a star-less night sky.
It looked at her. Two orbs of pure, brilliant white appeared at the top of its torso. When they did, she instantly fell back with fright and hit the back of the cage, sending a dull ring vibrating wound the room.
"A visitor!" it screeched.
She said nothing. She didn't breath. Maybe if she didn't move it wouldn't be able to see her, or might forget she was there.
"You are afraid?" it asked. She was stunned, for something resembling concern crept into its voice.
"You are afraid?" it asked again.
"Yes," she breathed.
"I am afraid."
She found herself breathing again. She also found herself standing up again and looking at the two white orbs.
"They hurt me. They will hurt you too."
She shook her head. "I'm not here to be hurt."
It remained silent for a long time, just looking at her, unblinking. Then
said: "They hurt me. I want them to stop. I want to die. But they won't
let me."
"Good!" she said, her confidence returned now, knowing it could not harm her. "You attack the city. You kill everything. You are evil!"
"Evil?" is hissed, and with that hiss her confidence fled
again. "We defend ourselves. We strike back at invaders. If that is
evil then yes, we are."
"Defend? Invaders? What do you mean?"
The orbs disappeared for a moment into the rest of its blackness, before
reappearing. "Ask then. Ask why tar'tchii are here."
Velaris heard the words, though didn't remember deciding to say them. "Why are you here?"
"You are the first, the only one of your kind, to ask the question. Strange, because it is the most important one. Your kind
came to us. You began to eat away at the mountains, eat away and take the rock.
We warned you, we attacked you, but you would not stop. Now, because of your
eating of the mountains, our homes are under threat. We will stop you from
destroying us."
"And I'm just supposed to believe you?" she asked.
"Your kind believes what is appropriate for you to believe, if it is
true or not it does not matter. It does not matter if you believe me anyway
because soon you will all be dead."
"Don't be so sure," Velaris hit back. "People have arrived to kill Vasoomb."
It made a low growl. "The Vasoomb cannot
be killed. Many of Vasoomb's own kind have tried and
failed."
"Its kind? I don't understand. Is it not one of you?"
"Yes, but different. Like Flying Ones. They are still tar'tchii, but not like the rest. You are one of those who are to kill Vasoomb?" it suddenly asked.
"Yes."
A hideous sound, like the sound of steam escaping from a kettle, came from
the creature. It was laughing. "And look where they put you! Strange
creatures are humans. Strange, but greedy, petty, and weak.
It is the opinion of some races that war against your kind is futile, but if
you were left alone, with no other enemies to fight, you would destroy
yourselves."
Aware of how bizarre this conversation had become, she could think of no arguments against what it said. Instead she asked: "Who would think this? And how would your kind know?"
"Think you we always were hiding in the mountains? The dwarves think
like this."
"The dwarves? But they have nothing against humans."
"They do. They have something against everything that is not a
dwarf. Many peoples are so. Not so the tar'tchii."
She looked straight at the thing on the rack. "What about the elves?"
"Elves." The word escaped as if it had been trapped for aeons.
"The elves, I have found, have no fondness for you."
"Elves. Tar'tchii
know what the elves do not wish to be known."
"Which is what?"
"Ask one. Ask one about The Great War, ask about how they created
the hole in the sky, ask about Allyon."
She shook her head. "I know not of what you speak."
"Only the elves, the tar'tchii, and few
dwarves remember those times. But only few dwarves remember now, or choose to.
It was before your kind was developed enough to realise what was
happening."
"How old are you?" she wondered, but said it aloud.
"Cannot say. You measure time with
the sun and sky. We know little of this. Old."
"Then why are you telling me this?"
The thing laughed again. "You will be dead soon anyway. All your
kind desire knowledge, and I have gifted you with a
little now. More than most of your kind should have. Since you are going to
die, it matters not."
It fell silent. The eyes closed.
She sat back on the cold stone, glad the conversation was over, and tried not to think about what had been said.
A Choice Is Made
Several hours later Candara was leaning back in his chair, eager for this business to begin. Her companions were already here, the two elves (the arrogant sods that they were) and the leprechaun, whom he assumed was more a pet than friend. The soldier by the name of Hesht who'd brought them was there also. Candara cracked his long fingers impatiently.
She would die, of course. Hanging, guillotine, drowning, it made little difference to him. He never had liked her. In the Swordmasters of Zaradorn she would insist on using those damned throwing knives. Throwing knives in the Swordmasters?! He'd made an official complaint as soon as he'd found out, but because it was in her free time there was nothing that could have been done. She'd always been trouble. And then she'd started with the malicious rumours against commander Poledouris, saying he'd been acting 'in a seedy and conspicuous manor' around her. Then when one night he'd been killed in his quarters (in a state of undress), she'd disappeared and the knife that he'd been stabbed with was one of hers. Now she'd admitted it, and it was clear what the penalty would have to be.
A guard wearing the uniform of Oun entered the room, and Candara almost cursed him aloud. He was reasonably well built, was (usually) clean-shaven, and had blue eyes and brown-blonde hair. This was Tirrius, her friend. And no doubt her lover, but he could never prove it no matter how hard he'd tried. If he'd succeeded he'd have got both of them thrown out of the Swordmasters in one fell swoop. Tirrius was almost as much trouble as Velaris. He smiled thinly and without humour as the man sat down opposite him.
They both knew it was Candara's doing that Tirrius was stationed in Haleport
at all, and both remembered the situation well. They were on a routine patrol
near the
Candara's smile faded when he remembered his own reasons for being here though. Several months after they had just finished sacking a savage village and he was discovered bedding a somewhat unwilling savage woman. In Ounish law, such actions particularly in warfare were strictly forbidden. But at that time they were neither in Oun nor at war; the battle was over. Officially he should have been stripped of his rank and demoted back to private, but because of his otherwise faultless (official) record the powers that be sent him to Magador instead, where he'd become stationed at Haleport. He sometimes wondered if being demoted would have been a better option. Being around these people he felt was a great insult, especially having to call Halladir 'My Lord'. He felt like spitting in the man's face every time he saw him.
Another guard entered, this time in the white and red Magador uniform. Velaris, who seemed somewhat paler than earlier, followed him in. Candara was pleased with the fact she'd been sent to the dungeons. That place gave even him a chill. Plus there was a remaining tar'tchii down there. He'd hoped to frighten her and so put her at a disadvantage. By the look of her it might have worked. Another guard entered after her, and they stood behind her as she sat down at the round table, leaving just one seat free.
"Velaris!" Surt shouted, "Are you-" he stopped because of the look she gave him.
She knew that if she put a foot out of place here it would be just another thing Candara could say against her. She saw Tirrius opposite her, and almost cried out with relief. But she forced herself to say nothing, to do nothing. She could only look at him. Tirrius, for his part, did the same. He knew Candara just as well as she. Not being able to speak, or to touch, was sheer torture. But the look they gave each other spoke more than word ever could have. It had been a year and a half since they'd seen each other. They were not lovers, though to look at them many would have said that they were. They were kindred spirits of a sort. He was like a brother to her and she like a sister to him.
Finally the door opened a final time and Halladir entered. "Ah, good everyone is here," he said, breaking the dead silence as he strode round the table and sat back where he had occupied earlier.
Without waiting another second after, Candara spoke up. "My Lord. The woman, Velaris, has freely admitted her guilt to the crimes of desertion and murder. There is but one penalty for such crimes; the usual penalty of death."
Halladir nodded, and for a fleeting, terrifying second Velaris thought he was going to bring the case to a close then and there. Thankfully however he said: "And if these were usual times the usual penalty would be carried out. But these are clearly not usual times."
Candara bowed his head. "No my Lord, but such a serious a crime-"
"I realise the nature of the crime," Halladir interrupted. "I would have Velaris speak- without interruption- about what happened."
"Thank you my Lord," Velaris started. She explained about how for several weeks before the 'murder' of commander Poledouris he had been making advances toward her. She had rejected, stating that such relationships were forbidden (and, though she did not mention it, because she thought he was a snake). Then he had asked her to his quarters after dark one night to discuss a promotion. It was there that he tried to force himself upon her, and when she'd rejected him again he became angry and violent. She said that she killed him because that was what she'd been trained to do; it was instinctive. She said she panicked afterward, and if she could re-live the experience she would not have fled. But she had done, fearing for her life. She also explained her reasons for coming to Haleport.
"Captain Hesht," Halladir addressed the man. "Can you verify this?"
"Sir, Velaris did say she needed to meet a man called Tirrius, who was an old friend." He told him, "Though mentioned nothing about her military background."
"Well she's hardly going to tell everyone is she?" Surt blurted out.
Candara sat forward. "But she told you, didn't she little one?"
"Yes. But… but that's because we're friends…" he sat back (upon the pile of books that had been placed on the chair for him) and wished he hadn't said anything.
Kordonel suddenly spoke up. "Forgive me, but I feel I must speak. Velaris is very capable with her weapon, is she not?"
To Candara's immense surprise, they all turned to look at him. "What? Uh… well-"
"When she was in the regiment, was Velaris capable with her blade?" Halladir asked him.
He hesitated, unprepared for this. "Yes, fairly capable."
"As I remember…" Tirrius spoke for the first time. "When you issued an open challenge, commander, she accepted and beat you."
Halladir spoke again. "Is this true? Remember there are other men stationed here who served in that regiment"
Candara's shoulders visibly dropped. "Yes that is true. But it was a training exercise, and I allowed her to win."
"Did you also allow her to cut your belt and let your trousers fall down?" Tirrius asked.
Candara grew red with rage. "This has nothing to do with anything!" he roared.
"On the contrary, I think that it does," said Eledora, who had become oddly quiet since they entered the city. "It shows that she is a valued fighter, and one which perhaps should not be wasted in such desperate and tragic times."
Halladir took her point. So did Candara. "No! You cannot be considering-"
"I will consider what I like," Halladir said sternly. "Do not forget, this is my city, and my people. This is not Oun."
"Obviously!" Candara shouted. "If it were, this ridiculous mess wouldn't have to take place!"
Halladir stood, clearly infused by Candara's words. "I have made my decision. Velaris will remain alive, her skill as a warrior is too valuable to be lost. She will not be locked away, as we are all trapped in any case, but will serve as was intended on her arrival. And if we are to survive we shall resume this trial."
"Trial!" Candara spat, getting to his feet. "Trial? It's a shambles, an utter shambles. Though I didn't know why I expected more from a nation of inbred savages!" he began to storm out of the room, but then he tripped on (or was tripped by) one of the spears carried by the Magadorian soldiers. "Your pardon sir," the guard mumbled. The other smirked.
Candara was about to let lose his fury at the guards, but then looked around the room and kept his words to himself, instead leaving the room with all the finesse and dignity of a drunken dwarf.
Assassin!
Unusually the tar'tchii did not attack as darkness fell that night, nor for a long while after. At first, the guards stayed alert and ready for anything the tar'tchii may try. But as the night wore on darkness and the warm night breeze made their soothing effects, the walls were not watched as closely as they should have been.
Vasoomb ran towards the city at one in the morning. It felt it should find this task easy. Get in, kill Halladir, and get out. It was simple. Under the cover of darkness the exhausted guards didn't see it, and it reached the city wall and began to climb. Using its three huge claws on each of its four limbs, it managed to scale the wall with little difficulty at all. It knew where it was going; it knew where its nemesis lurked. With their leader killed, the humans would be as children. Then, in just a few more minutes, the whole army would advance and be rid of these humans once and for all. That should leave a message they wouldn't forget. That would teach them not to invade their homes.
Vasoomb reached the top of the wall and climbed onto the battlements. He crouched and his nose sniffed the air; there were no humans nearby. Leaping off the walkway it landed silently on the street below. Running between the houses, it resisted the temptation to kill some of the sleeping humans. Maybe it would on the way out when its task was done, but there would be plenty of killing tonight anyway. The biggest building, near the centre of the city, was its main objective, and it reached it in good time. It clambered up a wall and came upon a balcony. Climbing onto this, it saw that the door leading inside was slightly ajar. It was going to use this to gain entry, then stopped. It was too easy. Instead it went back out onto the wall and climbed to the roof. The building had been damaged already, and there was a rather large hole in the roof nearby. Vasoomb used this to enter the building.
Vasoomb was at the end of a long corridor that was brightly lit with many candles. It was almost too bright for it to see but it made out several doors either side but Halladir was not in any of them though. Silently it made its way along the corridor and made a right. A human! It was just a girl, carrying a jug of water, but Vasoomb had no qualms about killing it. The girl died silently, but the jug fell, making a loud smash.
"Who's there?" someone out of sight asked.
Vasoomb quickened it's pace, running along the corridor. It needed to find a way downstairs, and was beginning to think that it should have gone in the balcony.
"Guards! Guards! Intruder!"
One of the humans had found the girl. Vasoomb hesitated. It would not do well for it to be trapped here. It decided to abandon its plans and retreat.
After spending the rest of the day together Velaris and Tirrius were making their way back to some barracks where he was stationed. She'd been so relived to see him alive and well, and he was just as pleased to see her. Memories of their times spent together with the rest of the regiment of Swordmasters came flooding back. They had been good times, even with snakes like Poledouris and Candara around. She wished they could go back. They'd always said they were doing to leave and travel together. Why hadn't they? Now they were both truly stuck in this city and when it was all over, if they were still alive, she'd have to live up to her crime. But that seemed such a long time away, and so much could happen before then. She hadn't thought of it at all since leaving the trial and thanking everybody. The first spots of some warm summer rain were beginning to fall as they were walking by the town hall.
"We’ve just repaired the portcullis," he was telling her. "If they ever break the main gate then splat!" He smashed his hands together.
Then they laughed together, as they so often did.
"Seems like we've got trouble in there," said one of the two guards at the door of the city hall.
"Trouble? What kind of-"
The doors burst off their hinges as something came at them from inside. Velaris was hit by one of the doors and it fell on top of her, pinning her down.
Tirrius and the guards drew their weapons and leapt at the beast that emerged. The guards both had their faces removed before Tirrius could do anything for them. He sliced at the thing's body and it groaned in agony as the blade bit deep, and it was a groan which was much deeper than a normal tar'tchii. But then it recovered.
Velaris was watched helplessly as it closed its clawed hand into a point and thrust it into Tirrius' stomach, penetrating up into his rib cage, and flexing its claws inside him and crushing all his major organs.
"No!" yelled Velaris.
It saw her, paused for half a second as if contemplating whether or not to kill her too, then let the broken body fall and disappeared into the night.
The rain came down heavily as Velaris worked her way from under the heavy door and looked at the butchered body of her closest friend, then up to where the thing had fled down the street. Kordonel appeared beside her, and was about to speak but stopped as soon as he saw Velaris’s face.
Thunder rumbled.
A Friend's Sacrifice
"What did it look like?" Halladir asked her.
They were on the battlements now. The call had come that the tar'tchii were mobilising. It was worrying. The tar'tchii never mobilised. It meant that they were leaving, or that something very bad was going to happen.
"It was black. Roughly humanoid in form, its forelimbs were elongated in the same way as an ape. But it walked only on its hind legs. All of its limbs ended in three huge claws. It was hunchbacked, and all I saw of its face were its two pure white eyes."
Halladir looked at her. It was like she'd rehearsed that. She didn't look at him. She didn't look at any of her friends who were there. She just looked out at the tar'tchii, her tears mingling with the rainwater on her face.
Halladir looked back at one of his captains.
"Yes sir. That sounds like the Vasoomb to me."
"Here to kill me?"
"It would appear so," the captain nodded.
"By all the gods…"
"My Lord, the tar'tchii are coming."
That was the cry that Halladir had been dreading, the cry that stated they were all doomed. It was hopeless. If they attacked in force, if they were as organised as they seemed to be… but he could not let the men see that.
"Man the catapults," he shouted. "Barricade the gates, all archers to the battlements! For Magador!" The last statement was hollow. No help has come from Magador, and they fought not for a place but for their survival. Halladir stood on the walkway with the four adventurers. "My friends, this is not your fight, and I am sorry you are here at this time. This is not what we had planned at all."
"The time for words had come and gone," said Eledora.
"Aye, well good luck." And with that Halladir left to oversee the defence of the city.
Then they came.
Eledora let loose with the first of many arrows and landed in the sea of pitch black that swept toward them like a sea. Kordonel too held his bow and loosed arrow after arrow, each finding its target. Velaris meanwhile began the task of searching for Vasoomb so she could kill it. They'd been assigned that task, only now she had her own reason for completing it. The rain had turned the ground into mud, and this hampered the Tar'tchii’s advance. More and more Tar'tchii fell from the arrows of the archers. But the hundreds of Tar'tchii reached the walls. They began swarming up the walls, only to fall back down again whether by weight of numbers, or the barrage of rocks and missiles from above. They remained Velaris of the sea breaking against the cliffs and looked on without emotion. On one sparsely guarded wall across from where they stood, the Tar'tchii broke through and fighting erupted on it.
"I'll be going now Velaris."
She turned to see Surt standing there.
"I said I'm going."
"Sure. Bye."
"Bye. I'm sorry about Tirrius. I love you."
Velaris heard, but somehow the words didn't enter her brain. Then she was watching the battle again.
The flying tar'tchii circled overhead, choosing their victims and then swooping down to attack with terrible screeches. They had massively long tails, which they used to decapitate their chosen targets. Kordonel picked one off as it swooped down on then, saving one of them from attack.
Only the fittest of the Tar'tchii made it to the top of the walls, many others fell to their doom, dragging other Tar'tchii down with them. Those who did make it were quickly slain by the defenders. But there were many. Too many. For every single tar'tchii that fell two others took its place.
The tar'tchii which climbed the walls were much smaller than Vasoomb. Though they were roughly the same shape, and had the same white eyes, they were only a few feet tall like the one on the rack in the dungeon. They were all gibbering insanely and the noise was almost unbearable.
They fought their way onto the ramparts near Velaris and her companions, and then she suddenly burst into action. Her newly reclaimed sword was in her hand in an instant, and she fell about them, unheeding of everything except the need to destroy them. One of the few things she did notice was that they bled red blood, which she found surprising for some reason but only served to reassure her that monsters or no they could bleed and die just as anything else.
Then there was an almighty crash, the gate crashed in to the tar'tchii hoard. The endless mass of Tar'tchii powered into the city, Velaris saw this but she knew the newly restored portcullis would come down on them. She saw a man go to cut the rope, but he was decapitated by a flying tar'tchii. Another soldier tried, but he was caught dragged and off the platform by three of the lesser monsters. Flames erupted in the streets as they got past the gatehouse and set fire to the buildings, and the women and children fled helplessly before them.
Velaris began to run. That portcullis had to be closed, and she was going to make sure it was. She reached a section of wall where archers were battling with tar'tchii. On her way through the melee she cut a tar'tchii’s throat out. But the defenders were not fairing well on this section, and Velaris charged into a wall of tar'tchii, slashing at them with her trained blade, and the tar'tchii began to back away from this warrior. Velaris advanced and tar'tchii fell before her as though they were made of straw. Some were so frightened that they jumped out of her way to their doom. Finally Velaris reached the portcullis rope and was about to cut it when her sword was knocked out of his hand by one of the remaining tar'tchii. Velaris ducked beneath its second blow, and jumped it’s third. As she landed, she drew a dagger from her boot and made a hole in its head.
Regaining her sword, Velaris brought it down upon the rope and sent the portcullis gliding down on the tar'tchii. Though some died as it impaled itself upon them, it also barred their way into the city through the main gate.
Then she saw Vasoomb. It was one of the tar'tchii that was burning the buildings. Velaris threw her dagger at the large figure, but it thudded into a wooden beam near it. It looked at the dagger, then at Velaris.
"You will die!" shouted Velaris "I swear it."
Vasoomb growled deeply, and began to run towards Velaris, but flames roared up and stood in its way.
Vasoomb let it go. It did not matter. It looked about and saw that everywhere the humans were being overrun. It wondered why it had put this night off for so long, why it had bothered to toy with them at all. It should have killed them many nights ago.
Then there was a terrifically intense pain on its back, which could only be caused by one thing. It felt sunlight.
Still many hours until dawn, and yet there was sunlight. Not a lot at first, but it grew, and grew, until it was impossible to ignore. Its source was a golden ball which hovered above one of the towers. Tar'tchii scrambled to get out of the light. Velaris saw that those that didn't started to steam and dissolve under it. Below her they dived into the buildings that they had set on fire to try and escape and through those flames she thought she thought she saw Vasoomb disappear into the ground.
It was daylight, and it was driving the tar'tchii away. The ball rose higher, and its light hit those tar'tchii still outside the walls. None of them escaped. Though some tried to bury themselves they were not fast enough, and the light burned them all. After two more minutes the light faded and all was dark again. The tar'tchii were gone. But how? Velaris looked up at the tower where the ball had originated, and glimpsed a small body collapse.
A Warning
It was Surt. The little leprechaun who everyone ignored or made fun of was the one who had saved Haleport. He alone had destroyed the tar'tchii attack.
And now he was dead.
Velaris remembered what he said. She never heard, because he wasn't important to her then. The battle, Tirrius, revenge, all her emotions. They all clouded what he'd said.
"Bye. I'm sorry about Tirrius. I love you."
He knew he'd die. He knew the spell would have killed him, and yet he sacrificed himself. It would have been easy for him to slip away, or to hide. But he hadn't. He'd saved them all, and she couldn't even say goodbye now.
She had been the only one who'd helped him. He'd been her friend, and she'd been his. Perhaps the only one he'd ever had. But still she felt so guilty for letting him do it. He shouldn't have done it. There was no need! They would have found a way to beat the tar'tchii without him having to kill himself.
But even in her grief she knew she was wrong about that.
They'd offer words of comfort. Kordonel, Eledora, even Hesht.
"He's in a better place."
"He's still with you."
"He loved you. He would want you to go on."
And go on she would. She'd have no time to grieve for Surt or Tirrius now. Troubled times were ahead and the dawn after the battle brought no comfort for her.
"Vasoomb escaped," Halladir told her. "Several men saw it go into the sewer. There can be no doubt. There's no telling where it is now."
She looked up at him, but said nothing. She was sat on the docks, watching them pull bodies from the red water.
"You can have whatever you want. Steed, weapons, equipment."
"What?"
"You can go Velaris. You're free."
She frowned. "But the trial. Candara."
He crouched down beside her and lay a hand on her shoulder. "You slipped away. We looked, but couldn't find you. With everything else you were just… forgotten."
She smiled for the first time since she'd come to the city. And she smiled because she was leaving. "Thank you."
"Oh, we're erecting a statue of Surt in the main square to honour his memory. We'll bury him under it."
She smiled again. "Good. Make it big would you? The biggest there so it's noticed. He'd like that."
"I'm… sorry. For doubting him."
Velaris knew he was not the only one.
Kordonel and Eledora
were planning on leaving too. They met her by accident at the stables. Velaris had already got a fine black stallion. She called
him
"Where do you head?" she asked them.
"Northwards, into Khánn," Eledora answered. "And you?"
"I don't know."
"Come with us," Eledora offered.
Velaris had wanted to hear that. She didn't want to be alone. "I'd like that. But I need to leave now."
They understood, as elves generally did. "Go back to the camp in the woods. We've only been gone a day, so the horses may still be there. We'll meet you there by nightfall."
Had it only been a single day since they arrived? Too much had happened in that terrible day. She was suddenly very tired. "I will do that," she said.
"I suppose I can forget my plans of a lengthy tour of Oun then," Kordonel grinned.
She was too tired to return the smile, though found no humour in the statement
anyway. She mounted
Candara was waiting for her, unarmed, and leaning against the archway.
"Go away," she told him, almost asleep.
"I will get you Velaris." He told her. "One way or another I'm going to get you."
She forced herself to stop her horse as she drew up beside him. She looked at him. "Why?"
"Why?" he seemed genuinely surprised. "You crossed me. You've made a fool of me for the last time. No one makes a fool out of me Velaris. You may ride away this time, but I will find you. I'm going to kill you Velaris."
She found herself smiling and that startled him. "I also look forward to our next meeting, Candara. I will be ready."
Then she spurred her steed forward and sped over the land where the tar'tchii had been hidden and into the woods beyond.
Candara watched her go. "You'd better be my girl. You'd better be."
