Battle of lindly, p.10
Battle of Lindly, page 10
Biddy, who had positioned himself on the opposite side of the portal as a preventive measure against potential intruders, successfully completed the summoning ritual of a colossal lava creature. Speaking to it as if it were a child of his, he said, “Now I need you to go in this doorway and help my friends. Kill the nasty, dark elves.”
The deep stupid sounding voice of the lava creature responded, “P R O T E C T Biddy’s FRIENDS! KILL DARK ELVES!” The lumbering eight foot tall creature squeezed its way through the portal. Upon reaching the other side, it saw the charging dark elves. Biddy’s lava creature yelled in its deep voice, “KILL! PROTECT BIDDY’S FRIENDS!” It slammed its dripping magma arms down on the ground, a ring of fire sprang around the inner edge of the flare’s light. The creature metamorphosed into a fiery ring, devouring everything, except for the initial quartet of shadowy elves and the duo charging Aris and Victus. Aris estimated that the fire rose twenty feet high into the air. Despite the haunting screams that filled his ears, Aris remained resolute and pushed aside his fear. Biddy was laughing hysterically on the other side of the portal, his voice distorted. Dark elves and Aris were all enchanted by the magnificence and power of this newly unleashed creature. Victus, however, was not. Taking advantage of the moment, he turned away from the four, who halted to look back at their friends being burned alive.
Nudging Aris, he said quickly, “Take the left. I will take the one closest.” The squire snapped himself back into the present and charged the unsuspecting dark elf. Victus was upon his elf first. His shield moved to counter the first thrust to his side, cutting back to block the second swipe from the other hand. He held his sword arm in place, waiting for the moment when the elf would go to strike his center. Victus was not attacking, just parrying with his shield. The elf, overzealous, thought he saw an opening. Victus blocked a thrust with his shield, holding his shield out in the hope to goad the elf. This left his center open, which the elf believed was a fatal error, but it was by design. When the elf thrust back in, Victus spun his body away from the blow towards his shield arm, hitting the elf from behind. His sword swung low, slicing into the elves’ leather boots, cutting deep into arteries. The dark elf shrieked in protest as his legs gave way. On his knees, he spun around and swung at Victus with reckless abandon. His ankles spurted blood from his body as he desperately tried to kill this human who had doomed him. Victus simply swiped the daggers from the elf’s hand and finished him with a clean press into the elf’s chest. Aris, having the briefest of advantages, used his father’s dagger first as a feint. Hoping to pressure the elf into a defensive posture. The elf surprised Aris with a backward roll away. Aris followed him and quickly realized he had over pursued. The elf was now pressing his attacks. First with the dagger and then a sword materialized into the dark elf’s hand. It was black, and it swooshed down and fast. Aris, using his own dagger to counter the other, lifted his gladius up to block the black sword. It hit, and Aris’ knees gave way under the ferocity of the attack. The young squire pushed himself up, the sword moving out and to the side to slice him while he was down. Missing, the dark elf again began the blade dance. Spinning the dagger to reverse the grip, Aris understood this meant he was going to be attacking down with the dagger. Which also meant the dark elf was going to get close. Aris kept his dagger and gladius close to his body as the attacks began again. Striking high, then low, it was a flurry and Aris was barely keeping up. This elf wanted him dead and Aris had never experienced such a hate from someone or from anything. Aris was fighting harder than he had ever fought before, the advantage had gone completely into the dark elves’ favor, keeping Aris unbalanced and defensive. Aris, to his credit, stayed defensive purposefully; realizing that if he could hold out, the elf would make a mistake. Each attack was getting closer and harder to hold back. One cut came so close he felt the tip of the blade cut into his neck. Aris kicked back his head, his feet stomped hard, pushing himself in the air and backwards tumbling and landing on his feet. The elf was already on him again. Aris felt like the elf was getting faster and more unpredictable. The elf would not let him get away. He could not get any ground to make a counter press against this onslaught. Time was running out. He needed to turn the fight soon or he would be dead.
Victus, having vanquished his elf, was coming to take the pressure off of Aris. He saw his son fighting in a furious blur. Over matched in strength, age and speed, his son was holding his ground but was losing. Many brave knights had stood against the dark elves in the past and never put up half the defense his son was. His son’s dagger and gladius were parrying and deflecting assault after assault. Victus knew this was a black blade sword master and Aris would need his help. A black blade sword master was a fanatic and was very skilled in one-on-one combat. They were masters of assassination, and Victus' boy was holding his own against this evil. But the knight knew it would only be a matter of time before the dark elf master would get past his son’s defenses. The dark elf fighting Aris, saw Victus’ approach and yelled to his fellows who were just now returning to their senses. One of the four dark elves let loose his whip and cracked it. Victus felt the tight grip on his foot, the tug pulling his right leg. He slammed his sword down, cutting the whip, and continued to his son. Aris was dripping with sweat. It was impossible to distinguish the individual blades as they spun by in a blur. Victus could not tell where Aris' arms ended, and the dark elves began. All he saw were the two taking steps as their elbows and upper bodies moved. They both were in this duel to the end. Both had accepted the challenge, and both knew only one would survive. The snap of another whip cracked and Victus was wrapped, feeling both his legs being tugged. He lost his balance and toppled to the ground as his legs were forcefully brought together. He let out a yell as soon as he hit the ground.
“Aris, move to me!” Victus was already cutting the whip, laying halfway on the ground when the four elves sprinted to him. Aris kept his defenses up. The clanging of the blades sounding as if two masters were perpetually locked in a loop of combat. On instinct of hearing his father’s voice, he disengaged quickly and completely. He sprang forward like a coiled spring, sprinting towards his father with the dark elf pursuing closely behind. In an instant, Aris stopped, ducked and rolled towards the elf. The dark elf sprinted past the now rolling Aris. The young squire jumped up mid roll behind the dark elf and plunged his father’s dagger into the dark elf’s backside towards the heart. His sword followed suit into the opposite lung. The surprised elf’s face dropped in disbelief as Aris ripped the weapons from the elf’s body. Not stopping to think about what he had done, not realizing that he had just taken his first life– he sprinted back towards his father.
Victus had released himself but his shield was laying near him on the ground. The elves surrounded him and closed in, striking from left and right flanks in twos. The attacks were difficult to block, but Victus' son flew past him, a little blaze of fury. His young face unleashing rancor that his father knew to be righteous indignation and adrenaline. He took on the two from the left, pressing his dagger at one and sword to another. Pushing them back on the defensive, Victus used this to clear his right and hurriedly grab his shield. Aris, having pushed the two back, held his ground, backing tentatively to his father’s side. The dark elves to the right of Victus were the first to engage again. Aris stepped behind his father, out of their field of view and used the moment they met Victus' shield and sword to pop out from the right side and stab one cleanly in the side. Victus brought his longsword down fast and hard as the dark elf bent over to grab his side, swiping the head from the body. Aris hopped back behind his father and again used his father’s shield and physical build to once more obscure himself from the adversary.
The dark elves, losing confidence and hesitant to keep the fight going, looked for somewhere to flee. But they found no escape from the two determined humans, as a towering inferno blocked the path. Victus took a step towards the two on the left and they turned to attack him again. Charging in, the first hit hard against the shield, attempting to wrench it from Victus. But this was a fatal mistake, as Aris was already on his flank, slamming his dagger hard into the side of the elf. Seeing the same move he just witnessed used on his friend, the other dark elf from the right attacked Aris. But Aris had already pulled his dagger out and faced his assailant. Victus wrenched his shield arm back from the hurt elf and pushed it hard, knocking him down. The second attacker from the left tried to stab into the knight’s thigh but over-extended. Victus relieved the elf of both of his arms on the swipe down. The elf began bleeding and screaming as he crumpled to the ground.
The final elf on the left was holding his side and weakly trying to hold on to his dagger. Victus turned quickly, the sword pushing past the feeble block into the elf’s chest. Aris had his elf already pressed against the wall of flame. The beleaguered elf had nowhere to go but towards the young squire or into the flame. As the trapped elf stepped a bit too close towards the flame, a magma arm reached for him, with a loud voice thundering, “PROTECT BIDDY’S FRIENDS. NO ESCAPE NAUGHTY ELVES!”
Victus turned from his targets to go to the Aris' aid. But this time Aris did not need it. The dark elf jumped from the voice towards Aris, who simply sidestepped the hurried blow. Aris sidled in close, pressing his gladius up through the elf’s armored stomach. Pulling out and back from the dead elf. Aris disarmed the elf as he also crumbled to the ground. Aris ran back to his position next to his father. Standing back to back, they surveyed the carnage, assuring that no other threats remained. Victus was the first to speak of the two of them, panting. “Clear!” Victus said firmly.
Aris responded with a gasp. “Clear!” He swung the shield back around to his hind side while Victus ran over to Jess, still slumped against the tree. Aris suddenly saw the elf with no hands crawling away. The elf would not make it. Aris knew it and the elf knew it. Aris walked over to the elf, who rolled over to face the young man. He spoke pleadingly in a foreign tongue. Aris could see the fear in the elves’ dark red eyes. Aris felt pity for the severely injured dark-elf. Victus, who was now searching for wounds on Jess, looked over his shoulder to Aris and said, “End it.”
Aris hesitated only for the briefest of moments, before he took his gladius and pressed it quickly into the elf’s chest. Gasping and cursing, the dark elf bore into the young lad before expiring. Before Aris could start to think about the fight that was now ended, he heard his father calling for what he needed next.
“Aris, bring your med kit. Biddy, we are clear. Come through and help me,” Victus spoke directly, giving orders. Aris ran over, tossing his kit down to his father but turning away from Jess and Victus to vomit. He sat crumpled on his hands and knees, puking. The adrenaline, the fear, the disgust he felt for the dark elves was evacuated in the only way the young man’s body knew how– retching over and over. Victus sympathetically reached over to pat the boy. “It will pass. You did good. Let it out.” Tears formed in Aris' eyes as the comprehension of what he had done and what had happened came to his awareness. Still vomiting, he tried to ask, “Is she going to be okay?”
Victus, using Aris' medicus, began cleaning the only wound he found on her motionless body. “I believe so,” he said. “The poison has her body locked in paralysis. But she should live.”
Biddy walked through the threshold and clapped his hands. The circular fire extinguished and the lava beast stood before him. “I PROTECT BIDDY’S FRIENDS?”
Biddy giggled, “Oh yes, you did marvelous my friend. Now go rest.”
“I DID GOOD!” The magma monster’s voice booming, singing and then becoming almost a whisper. “I... DID... G O O D! I...did good. I...did...” It continued as it shrank and shrank until it disappeared.
Biddy walked past Aris puking and looked over the limp Jess studiously. “Hmm, poisoned?” Victus nodded at Biddy reached into his little belt and said, “Pour this over the wound and wrap it. Should stem the poison’s longevity, but she will still need a proper healer. Dark elf poisons are nasty little beasties.” Victus poured the little vial over the wound like Biddy had instructed and the woman groaned. Victus, having done all he could for the woman, turned his attention fully to his son. Aris was still dry heaving repeatedly, his empty stomach lurching painfully.
“Aris, look at me.” Aris' blood-shot eyes looked into his father’s. “You did well today, squire. You did good. Come here.” His arms outstretched to his son, and they embraced him.
“I was so scared, da!” Victus nodded as he patted his son’s back.
“I know. And the first battle is always the hardest.”
Biddy chimed in from his place next to Jess. “Yes, little Aris, you did well. Very impressive, to be sure.”
12
By the time Calder, now under arrest, made it back to Lindly, the sun was well risen. The cool morning air filled his lungs as they marched him through the main gate. The commander of the elves moved farther down the road, seemingly headed straight to the palace. Calder hoped he would be taken to the prison, which was near the barracks, which he hoped because he knew a way to escape from the prison, being a commander of the city. However, his hopes were quickly quashed as they escorted him past the barracks and, subsequently, past the prison.
Next, he wondered if they would take him to the center of the city. This was where particularly dangerous prisoners would be taken– often the main city square was used for trials by combat. Either that or prisoners were put on display in the stockades, for public humiliation. For the serious violators of the law, this is where the executions took place.
Calder waited for the turn to the heart of the city but again, the guards kept the slow, steady pace past. Now Calder was feeling bewildered and slightly confused as he continued to follow. Finally, Calder decided to just ask and raised his voice, “Oy! Captors! Where are we going?” His shackled hands reached around his chest to gesture as he slowed to stop. “I mean, you missed the prison by a good half-mile.” He chuckled before continuing, “Right, I forgot. You lot are all new to the city. Don’t have everything figured out yet. Well, if we make a right at the next street, that would put you on the path back round to the prison. Then I could use my keys here in my pocket to lock myself in.” He clinked the keys hanging on the left side of his pants with his chained hands.
One of the guards passed his spear to another and walked right up to Calder, staring into the man’s eyes, he looked him over, spit on the ground, and then punched him square in the nose. Calder laughed, his nose crunched, as he reached up towards his bloody face. As he spoke, he sprayed the blood that dripped onto his lips. “First you forget to check all my pockets. Then you punch a prisoner for simply trying to help. Greenhorn?” He cocked his brow questioningly towards the now seething elf, who was wiping droplets of blood from his own face. The elf punched him again, this time in the stomach, causing Calder to double over. Now a few other elven guards came over and began searching him again, finding no keys. Calder, bloody-faced and beaming, smiled when they found nothing. “Oh, must have been in my other pants. Apologies, good elf.”
Cursing and turning from the human, the elves continued leading him down the city streets. Eventually, after taking the longest route possible, they made it to the palace. They led him up the steps and into the palace garden where the high elf commander was standing in the center. He began speaking in elvish to his soldiers as they neared and all Calder could understand was something about being dismissed. “Dismissing all charges?” He chimed in after he heard the word he knew in elvish and saw the guards leaving.
The high elf commander smiled, but it was not warm. “No. The charges stand, but the Priestess of House Elivi would like a word. I suggest you listen to her. Your life and your family’s lives depend upon it.”
Calder’s amusement over this entire process left at the mention of his family. “What does my family have to do with my supposed crimes?”
The elf smirked, pointing towards a covered section of the garden with an arbored entrance enveloped in the most colorful flowers in all the realms. “She is in there waiting for you.”
Calder moved cautiously, his chains clanking over the sounds of birds playing in water and singing. His thoughts drifted to his grandfather’s words from when he was young, “Never let your prey know fear, it’ll spoil the meat. Make certain they are comfortable and relaxed.” Hearing the words as if he were six again warmed his heart and felt like a stern warning in his mind. He looked back at the commander of the guards, offering him a grim smirk as he spoke. “I understand and accept the path before me. Death or life, I go willingly.” The armored elf said nothing. He didn’t even acknowledge Calder with a glance. Under his breath, Calder added, “Doesn’t mean I have to be quick about it.” He continued on walking, dignified, soldierly, bravely at a slightly slower pace than his normal trot. Entering the hanging garden, the canopied path was more vibrant than he remembered. Having such a busy life with his soldiering and family, he did not have the luxury of visiting some of the finer places in Lindly. The last time he could remember actually being there was well over two years ago. Barely a beam of light passed through the thick and layered canopy, casting an eerie, greenish glow on the path. The few rays of sunlight that wiggled past the lush flowers and plants gave the path before him an otherworldly appearance, a place beyond his mortal body. Somewhere divine. Moving further down and following the bend, he could feel eyes watching him. It was like someone was following so close he could actually feel the breath on his neck. “Obviously,” he thought. “They wouldn’t let me have this much freedom.” His mind drifted from those watching him, to his family, wondering how he would explain all of this to them. He worried about how his family would survive if they executed him. Pushing the thoughts far from his mind, he dredged on. Neither walking fast nor slow, he strolled purposefully but casually. Along the path, he couldn’t resist stopping to run his fingers over the silky petals of a vibrant violet flower protruding from the carefully manicured flora. Intrigued by the flowers, he scrutinized them and discovered that their hues varied based on the angle of view. Calder swore he heard a groan of annoyance by one of the hidden figures. He smirked a little at the thought of annoying the elves.
