by Ramy Vance
The drow smiled at her. Abby thought Persephone was the most beautiful tired person she’d ever seen. She was so enamored she didn’t realize she was staring blankly at her screen. “Hey, Abby, is there something wrong with your connection? You’re frozen.”
Abby laughed nervously. She was embarrassed by how flustered she still got when she spoke to Persephone. “Oh yeah, yeah. Sorry. I didn’t notice. How are you doing?”
The two chatted for a bit, playing catchup. Not much had been going on with Persephone since her reintegration. Abby felt it was better not to stress Persephone out with news of the lich and the people she cared about being hurt. But a thought did pop into her mind. “Hey, I was thinking about what you told me about your tentacles coming from having a bit of an Old One implanted into your body. What did the Old One look like?”
“Kinda like this black liquid, but not quite liquid, kind of solid. Like liquid that is alive.”
Suddenly, things began to come together. “If I can find a way to get you here today, can you come?”
Persephone smiled. “All I’ve been able to think about is seeing you. Of course, I can.”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Anabelle arrived in New York around ten in the morning. She was set to do a press conference with the mayor. Roy had put together a press team for Anabelle and Terra. They’d been drilled on questions that would be asked. Rather than create a set list of answers, the two agents had been encouraged to come up with their own.
As Anabelle waited for the helicopter to land, she thought about how much she appreciated Roy’s approach to handling the DGA. It was probably because he’d heard and experienced most of the same grievances Anabelle had.
The helicopter touched down, and Anabelle was ushered to a conference room where the mayor waited for her. They exchanged small talk, a practice the elf considered herself an expert at. After they were finished, they went outside for the press conference.
Questions came hard and fast. The reporters were at the top of their game, probing Anabelle on the responsibility Myrddin had to the city. Many of the questions pertained to what the wizard would do to fix the amount of destruction wreaked in the last battle with the lich.
Anabelle held herself with a calm and poise she’d practiced for years. “We’ve already started our efforts to bring relief to the city. Five million dollars are being given to the city as a stimulus package, and we are funding a three-hundred-billion-dollar restructuring effort which will be dispersed throughout the city.”
A reporter raised his hand, and Anabelle chose him for a question. “What about the orc issue? Even further than that, it seems like humanity has been made a target since Myrddin chose to involve us in this. Many humans are wondering if we would be better off ignoring Myrddin’s claims and handling this with our own military and diplomatic leaders.”
Anabelle waited for the commotion among the other reporters to subside. “That is actually a misperception. The Dark One has been working against Earth for nearly a hundred years. We have documentation to prove it. And most of your political leaders do, as well. You can take up the disclosure of that information with them because ours is all public at the moment.
“To answer your question about what to do going forward, I won’t lie to you. Humanity is a target now because the Dark One has been decimating the majority of the nine realms. Even if he backs off now, he will be back soon. This is a question of what humanity wants to do at the moment. We will all continue waging this war for our collective freedom, but we can’t defend humanity for itself. There will come a time when you will have to fight alongside those of us who have been laying our lives on the line as well.
“Our forces are a collaborative effort between the different races of the realms. Elves, goblins, dwarves, humans, and gnomes are all working to fight the Dark One. Our fight has even begun to incorporate free orcs. But the extent to which humanity can defend itself is dependent on how much humanity wants to fight.”
The press conference continued, and Anabelle grew tired of the questions. They all ended up revolving around the same thing: How can we be saved without saving ourselves? That was the reason Anabelle was annoyed with humanity; they seemed to want everyone to fight for them without being willing to put in the work themselves.
Anabelle tried to answer the questions with as much calm and politeness as she could muster. She knew this was bigger than herself. They needed as much support as possible, and if she revealed her irritation at such a widely-broadcasted press interview, and in light of the destruction of New York only a few days ago, the results could be catastrophic. Fortunately, the reporters hadn’t been prepared for Anabelle to be so frank with them. Probably because this wouldn’t have happened if Myrddin had been speaking.
Once the press conference was over, Anabelle was taken to an office to discuss the PR-related stuff she would be engaged in for the day. The first was visiting Times Square, the section of the city that had taken the most damage.
Anabelle was carted off in a nondescript van. When she arrived, the streets were full of police, firefighters, and anyone else willing to give a hand.
She was shocked at the extent of the damage. While in the midst of the battle, Anabelle had been concerned with many other issues. But now that the fighting was over, she saw just how much had been destroyed. The city was in shambles.
A police chief and a fire captain were waiting for her. Neither seemed particularly interested in talking to Anabelle, and the same was true for her, but her mission was to play nice. She said what was expected and tried to assuage the egos of the two men.
Anabelle was led on a tour of the damage throughout the city. She watched as humans worked with each other to clear away the rubble and look for survivors. A group of firefighters was clearing a building and bringing out the bodies of a few humans who had been caught in the crossfire.
Her heart skipped a beat when she saw the lifeless bodies. Anabelle had been under the impression that the entire area had been cleared out, but there had been apartments they hadn’t been able to evacuate in time. She wondered how many lives had been lost.
It was a painful realization. Even if she had some disdain for humans not fighting for their own freedom, these were civilians; humans who probably didn’t have the strength to fight. And now they were dead.
Anabelle toured the rest of Times Square. She listened to what the police chief and fire captain had to say. Her judgment was reserved. The humans had not been able to defend themselves, but they were capable of taking care of their community. It was something that, as an elf, she could appreciate.
“Is there anything I can do to help?”
The question slipped out of Anabelle’s mouth, and even she was surprised to hear it.
The fire chief looked at Anabelle curiously. “Uh, we’re starting a new excavation a couple of blocks away from here. We could always use extra hands.”
“I’d like to come.”
Anabelle was led to an apartment complex. The destruction was disturbing. Most of the complex had been burnt to a crisp, and rubble littered the streets. Humans walked back and forth, working to find any survivors.
She fell in with the humans, blending in seamlessly, and taking her orders. Three hours went by before she realized it, digging and digging, hoping to find life.
Finally, Anabelle’s team was told to take a break. She walked over to a group of humans sitting and talking amongst each other.
Two stuck out to Anabelle more than the rest. They were older folk, heavily tattooed, and they looked like they had just come from a music festival.
Not knowing what else to do, Anabelle walked up to them and said, “Hello.”
The man looked at her and smiled widely, his eyes full of compassion. “Name’s Sugar Owl. This right here is my ride or die Star Breeze.”
Star Breeze smiled at Anabelle with the same level of radiance. “You’re Anabelle, right? The elf with the guy who is in charge of all of this.”
&n
bsp; Anabelle felt her gut clench. Is that what people thought? That she was part of the group responsible for this? “No, not quite. We’re the ones who are responsible for trying to keep this from happening.”
Star Breeze nodded as she looked at the rubble. “Yeah, I think we met another one of your guys. Talk, dark, and handsome one. Laid into a couple of orcs with him.”
Anabelle was surprised to hear that, then it clicked. She’d heard Roy talking about two old hippies who had joined the cause at Burning Man. These two fit the bill. “What are you doing all the way out here?”
Sugar Owl pulled out a flask, took a sip, and handed it to Anabelle. Whatever was in the flask smelled like rubbing alcohol. “We follow the flow, man. You know, ley lines and the like, guiding us to where we’re supposed to be. No questions asked. We just go and let the source guide us.”
Star Breeze took the flask next and nodded emphatically. “Yeah, my dude. We can’t be plugged up and missing out on all the humanity. If there’s a need this big, there’s nothing we can do but go and make ourselves useful. What about you? What brings you out this way?”
Anabelle considered lying for a second. But she didn’t know these people, and it didn’t matter. “I was here…when it happened. My boss thought it would be a good idea to have a friendly face around. Show we’re willing to help clean up the mess we were a part of.”
Sugar Owl knelt and picked up a handful of dirt and rubble. “Ain’t nothing like a little bit of accountability. But some of us know this ain’t your fault. We’re being attacked, man. Interdimensional aliens coming through to pick us up and scoop out our eggs, to milk us until we can’t walk. Old gods come for this earth to remind humanity that we might not be anything but a blip in the whole matrix. Ain’t nothing any of us can control, really. Just react to.”
Anabelle stared dumbfounded at Sugar Owl. She hadn’t expected to hear anything sensible from the hippies, or for the hippie’s words to sound sensible.
A crowd of humans was gathering, some having noticed Anabelle. Their faces were angry, and they were walking toward Anabelle and the two hippies.
Someone threw a soda can at Anabelle, and it hit her in the forehead. “You coming here to make this worse for us? Haven’t we suffered enough?” the man shouted.
Anabelle’s initial reaction was anger, but she swallowed it. These people were hurting, and this was their city. They had a right to be angry. Maybe more of a right than her.
Blood trickled down her forehead, the first blood drawn by anyone other than the Dark One’s forces. “You have,” Anabelle shouted. “You have suffered enough. And I’ll be honest with you, this shit sucks. My homeworld hasn’t been hit nearly as hard as most of the nine realms. If I was digging my family out of a ditch, I’d be beside myself. But that doesn’t change what we have to deal with right now. The Dark One is making a terror of our lives. Whether I’m here or not, isn’t going to make a difference. All I can do is try to fight him. And hope I am making a difference and saving lives.”
The crowd was quiet. It wasn’t until Sugar Owl stepped up and shouted that the crowd changed their tune. “She’s right. Regardless of whether or not we fight, this fight is coming to us. What are we going to do about this now? We can’t just ignore the spirits. Can’t just ignore where the universe is guiding us. If we hide in our homes, our homes are gonna become this.”
The crowd didn’t cheer. They didn’t agree. But they pulled back. They returned to their work, occasionally casting glances at the elf and the two hippies sitting with her.
After half an hour, Anabelle and the two hippies returned to working in the rubble. A young girl walked up to her and tugged on her sleeve. “Excuse me,” the child said. “Are you the elf lady?”
Anabelle wiped the sweat off her brow. “Yeah, I am. What of it?”
The girl smiled brightly, dancing about a little bit. “I just wanted to say thank you. My daddy told me you fought to keep the city safe against monsters. We saw them from our window. He said you killed them all, and that’s why we’re safe.”
Anabelle knelt beside the girl. “Not all of them were monsters. Some of them were orcs who don’t have any control. A monster is hurting them, and we’re trying to make sure no one is hurt anymore.”
The girl screwed up her face like she was trying to understand what Anabelle had said. “They’re not all monsters?”
Anabelle stood as she nodded. “We don’t always see the monsters. Sometimes we just see what the monsters make.”
The child’s parents walked over to Anabelle and the hippies. The father said, “We’ve had a pretty long day of this so far. We were thinking of heading back to our shop. It’s a couple of blocks away, a little Middle Eastern spot.”
Sugar Owl’s eyes widened. “Do you have shawarma? I’ve always dreamed of trying shawarma.”
The father laughed. “We have a lot more than that. Here’s the address. We’re closed because of, you know, all of this. But give me a knock, and we’ll have ourselves a little dinner.”
Anabelle said she’d call them once she was done at Times Square. The family went off, walking through the destruction of New York looking more hopeful than Anabelle could have ever imagined.
After another hour or so, she received a call from the child’s parents, asking if they could still make it for dinner. She spoke to the fire chief and told him she’d be sending out a squad to reinforce the efforts of the city. “This isn’t a one-day thing. We have the resources, and we want to share them,” she said.
Anabelle and the two hippies headed to the address the child’s parents had provided.
It was in a slightly run-down part of town, but one that had managed to avoid the collateral damage of the battle a week before.
The child greeted Anabelle at the door and led her into the apartment.
Anabelle had been expecting a storefront. Instead, she was greeted by an array of scents she’d never smelled before.
The child guided the elf and the two hippies into the kitchen, where a variety of Middle Eastern foods were laid out on the table.
Anabelle took a seat as the father poured glasses of juice for everyone. He said Grace in a language Anabelle had never heard before and began to pass around the plates of food.
The meal took place mostly in silence, Anabelle trying to savor every bit of flavor she had never known existed. The meat was savory and juicy in a fashion very different from elvish cuisine.
Anabelle didn’t speak a word until the meal was finished. “That was amazing,” she managed. “Utterly amazing.”
The child’s father looked up and smiled as he started clearing the table. “It’s the least we could do for someone risking their life for all humanity. The least we could do.”
Chapter Thirty
Terra, Cire, and Nib-Nib were sitting in the reconnaissance wing of HQ, waiting for a feed to come in from the orcish homeworld.
When Cire had first arrived at HQ, he had spoken with Creon about setting up a network to allow him to check on the orcish homeworld. Creon had thought it was a novel idea.
Access to the orcish world had been nonexistent for some time. Most of the nine realms had lost contact with the orcs before they had known of the threat from the Dark One. The orcs had always been more private than the other races of the nine realms, so no one was surprised.
Cire was currently explaining to Terra, Nib-Nib, and Creon, why that had been the case. Orcs had no problem with the other races of the nine realms. As a society, they had also forgiven elves for the fashion in which the elves had distanced themselves from orcs.
Terra was confused as to why orcs and elves had any sort of relationship with each other, to begin with.
Cire smiled gently as he scratched his brow. “You don’t know much about the nine realms, do you?”
Terra watched the video screen and shrugged. “Honestly, up until I was abducted, I would have laughed at anyone who claimed that orcs existed. But, as you can see, I’m pretty open-minded ab
out what’s in front of me.”
Cire explained how thousands upon thousands of years ago, orcs had been elves. When the Dark Elves broke away from the fairer folk, a few drow decided they didn’t want to live underground anymore. Their society had become so different from the elves who lived above them that they felt it was proper for them to carve their own place in the realms.
Through the magic they developed, they found a way to another realm. Here they began to change even further. By the time they came across their elvish brothers again, they were nearly unrecognizable.
This did not sit well with the elves. The elvish folk began to think of orcs as a lesser race, something beneath them because orcs did not follow any of the elvish religions or gods. Orcs had made their own.
That was the beginning of the first Orc War. The war had been heavily documented in most elvish literature. Orcs, on the other hand, maintained their tradition orally. Thus, the story that many people heard of the conflict between orcs and elves was one-sided.
Once the war ended, the orcs continued with their lives, building their culture as they saw fit. One of the aspects of orcs that rose to the forefront was their love of fighting.
“The way orcs think of fighting is quite different from the other races,” Cire explained. “Orcs consider fighting to be the way in which we assert ourselves, our existence. Through strength, we continue to grow. There is nothing more satisfying than a challenge that can be overcome.”
Terra didn’t need much more explanation. From the moment she entered the arena, she’d understood that. Conflict wasn’t something to be avoided. It was a tool used to sharpen yourself. When Terra explained this, Cire nodded with understanding. Then he continued.
As orcs perfected their own martial arts and turned away from magic, the nine realms began to view them as barbarians. They were said to have no culture, to be practically machines with only the desire to maim and kill.
Naturally, orcs didn’t care what was said about them. Rather than engaging with the other realms, they turned inward and became reclusive.