Wars of Irradan

by RG Long

  “I don’t think they were expecting that,” Ealrin said. Blume couldn’t have agreed more. But she saw blue bolts of energy shooting up from the ships in Nerashi’s direction.

  “Speakers,” she said, her voice furious.

  The dragon dove and spun to avoid the blasts of magic shooting up at her and was able to set the sails of one ship ablaze. But there were still plenty more ships with more Speakers directing their spells at her while the canons continued their assault on the city.

  “Up there!” Ealrin shouted. Blume turned to see him pointing at the sails of a ship impossibly high in the sky. Unless, of course, it was a ship designed to fly through the air. Spotting a set of stairs that ran behind the tower, Blume urged the group up them. Holve, it seemed, was understanding what they intended to do.

  “Everyone to the ship!” he said, helping them up the steps as another cannonball crashed into the area below their feet, sending another tremor throughout the tower. It swayed ominously. The group obeyed without much grumbling. Save Gorplin.

  “We’re going higher?” he asked with a voice that sounded more gruff than normal. It made Blume think the dwarf was not a proponent of the idea. But the dwarf kept climbing along with the rest of the group.

  The stairs curved around the tower and then ended in three large stone bridges that seemed to go to the air. At the end of the last bridge, however, was a ship. Blume gasped seeing it up close. The sails looked like someone had planned for the sea poorly. Instead of only billowing out from the top of the boat, they came from the sides as well. Ropes secured it to the bridge and a long bridge of planks and ropes led from the solid stone to the floating boat.

  Not a guard was in sight.

  “Get on it!” Ealrin shouted, running up ahead of Blume and reaching the plank bridge first and climbing aboard the vessel.

  Blume ran beside Felicia.

  “Any chance you can fly this thing?” she panted.

  The stout captain shook her head.

  “Anything on water, I can sail in a breath!” she said. “But I’ve never seen a ship sail on air!”

  Holve was apparently thinking the same thing.

  “I’m sure whoever flew the thing here will want to get out of this battle as well,” he said, reaching the bridge and ushering the two of them on before himself. “Maybe we can barter passage!”

  But when they reached the deck of the boat, it was evident that there wasn’t a soul aboard it, save themselves. Urt and Felicia were running up and down the deck, looking to see what they were dealing with. Teresa and Wisym stood next to Amrolan, who was attempting to calm a distressed Panto.

  The deck of the ship was covered in half dome caps, each with a metal wheel that appeared to either open or lock when needed. Several pipes ran the length of the ship as well, each bolted down to the deck and some running off to the side. From three large metal wheels, ropes and harnesses were piled in a heap. Alongside each railing were four giant crossbow launchers, loaded with projectiles the size of poles with metal tips. Two of the rear missiles had chains on them that lead to the back of the ship.

  “Bah! Who brought this thing here, then?” Gorplin asked, holding onto the rail with both hands as he faced inward.

  “Where’s Ealrin?” Holve asked, spinning on the spot. Blume followed his lead and looked around the ship. He wasn’t anywhere to be seen. Several long moments passed with cannons being fired and the roar of the dragon still bursting fire from her mouth.

  Then a hatch opened up and a panting, exhilarated Ealrin burst from the inside of the ship. Gorplin swore and Panto gave a roar. Blume breathed a sigh of relief at seeing him, having visions of him falling off the edge of the ship into nothingness.

  “The core is still good!” Ealrin proclaimed as he got to his feet. He rubbed his hands together and ran to the back of the ship, where Felicia and Urt were examining what Blume assumed was the controls of the vessel. Except it wasn’t a wheel, like a ship out at sea, but rather four or five levers and a glowing orb of silvery Rimstone, surrounded by a circle of steel.

  “Everyone get harnessed in or get below deck!” he shouted as he began to fiddle with the levers. To Blume’s astonishment, the sails began to move in different ways, positioning themselves so that the cloth tightened or relaxed as he moved the controls around.

  “What are you doing!?” Holve shouted at him while everyone else stared at the two of them. Felicia had actually stumbled backwards over a set of harnesses by the controls.

  Ealrin let go of the levers and put on the vest like harness and fastened the clips. Once he had finished with the last one, he spun the metal wheel around the Rimstone orb and the ship lurched sideways.

  “I’m going to fly us out of here!” he shouted. The movement of the ship had seemed to encourage everyone to either get harnessed in or dive through the hatch Ealrin had just come through. Amrolan and Panto went below, along with Brendt and Elen. Everyone else was quickly mimicking Ealrin’s use of the vest and fastening buckles and checking ropes. Blume was attempting to get her own on as quickly as she could. Another roar echoed from around the tower. It sounded like Nerashi was closer.

  “Are you mad!?” Holve shouted back at Ealrin while simultaneously putting on a harness. “You’re going to get us all killed! You don’t know how to fly this thing!”

  Blume saw Ealrin’s face change in an instant. A confidence came over him that she hadn’t seen there before. He gave what she could only describe as a devilish smile back at Holve before putting his hands on two levers and grasping them tightly.

  “Oh, yes I do,” he said as he pushed the levers forward and the ship began to dive.

  IT WAS, AT THE SAME time, the most exhilarating and terrifying experience Blume could ever remember having. She grabbed onto the rail and held on like her life depended on it. As fast as they were plummeting, it certainly felt like it did.

  The ship pulled out of the dive and soared around the tower into the fray of magical bolts of energy, cannonballs, and dragon fire. Nerashi looked scraped and bruised in some places, but, if anything, it had increased her rage. She let loose another blast of fire as another ship burst into flames. The Death’s Gate ships were now responding as well, but the slow response had taken its toll. From this viewpoint, Blume could see many ships with black sails sinking or damaged and only a handful of the attackers facing the same fate.

  “Blume!” Ealrin called from his place behind the controls of the ship. She turned to face him as he heaved on some levers that lead them right over the ships in the port of Death’s Gate. “Now would be a great time to show us your magical skill!”

  She turned back and held one hand above her head, while still gripping the ship’s rail with the other. A ball of green energy formed in her hand, swirling and glowing brighter by the moment. With all the force she could muster, she hurled the ball at a ship they were passing over. The magical bolt sped towards the vessel and, with a tremendous explosion, completely demolished it and put large holes in the two vessels beside it as well.

  “Excellent!” Ealrin called from the controls as he pulled the ship up, avoiding the responding flurry of bow shots and magical bolts hurled at them. A burst of blue told them one of the enemy’s orbs had found its mark.

  “Wisym! Teresa! Get on those crossbows and fire back!” Ealrin called out.

  The two obeyed, scrambling to the launcher and getting it ready to fire. Blume felt herself getting weaker as they flew. The first bolt had taken a lot of her energy. She grabbed onto the railing with both hands again as the ship tilted and turned back to the fight. Nerashi roared as she beat her wings next to them.

  “It seems you’ve found a way to fly after all!” she called before making a sharp turn and blasting fire at another ship. Blume had to admire the dragon’s ferocity.

  Their ship pulled around for another pass. This time, Teresa and Wisym were aiming the giant projectiles at ships on either side of them, while Blume conjured several, smaller orbs in an attempt to con
serve her strength. They passed over the ships and both Teresa and Wisym fired their weapons. Blume sent her own bolts of energy down at different ships, hoping to do enough damage to help but not use so much of her strength that they couldn’t do one more pass.

  Another slew of blue bolts made their way towards the ship. Blume saw one on a course to blast the deck. With her remaining strength, she threw her hand out to repel the orb. In doing so, she lessened her grip on the rail just as Ealrin made a sharp turn. She found herself in the air in an instant, no longer touching any part of the ship. Her harness tugged on her as the rope pulled taut and she flew along with the vessel.

  “Blume!” she heard Ealrin shouting. Before she could register that magical bolt darting away from them and crashing into a cliff, sending rock and stone in an avalanche down on more Enoth vessels, she saw the deck of the ship coming at her dizzyingly fast.

  She was going to crash into the ship headfirst. Slamming her fists in front of her, a dazzling green blast of magic shot out before her like a rush of wind.

  And then everything went black.

  35: All Aboard

  Cuno stood on the bank of the river that led into the inner sea of Irradan. He had watched ship after elven ship pass by this spot for a full day. It seemed the entire armada of the empire of Enoth was being gathered for a final assault. Against who, he didn’t care. All he wanted to do was to cause as much damage as possible to the elves, be they wood dwellers or city vermin.

  He wanted them all to burn.

  The Wrents behind him held themselves in check out of fear, not lack of desire to kill. As soon as they had arrived, the foxes had licked their lips and chomped their teeth at the thrill of impending battle. Cuno had burned a few before they remembered that he was their unifier, their chieftain and leader. A few losses to instill loyalty was worth it to Cuno. He would not risk losing his united tribe to bloodlust again.

  The Red Paws would be a single tribe in victory or defeat, preferably, of course, the former.

  Ships now sailed in fewer number past the Wrents hidden in the forest, marking their passing. Cuno knew the time to act would come soon.

  Lacha ran up to him, panting hard, but standing without a struggle. He had gone to scout the ships.

  “Six ships remain,” he said through deep breaths.

  Cuno nodded.

  “Then we’ll wait for the last three,” he said, raising a paw into the air, signaling that his tribe should prepare themselves. No howls broke the night air. No barks penetrated the silence. The only noise that the Wrents made were the shuffling of paws and arranging of spear or sword. The plan must be followed. Every command obeyed. Otherwise they risked being overwhelmed before the time was right.

  Two more ships passed by them and Cuno dropped his paw. Now was the time. As the third ship to pass came into view, the Wrents began to slowly slink into the water, Cuno among the first of them.

  The water was freezing cold. To Cuno, however, he felt the familiar heat radiating both from his paw and his chest. Blood was close at hand. Wrents all around him began to swim for the next ship that passed. They moved swiftly and silently through the water, little more than ripples in the river’s current.

  As the first of the last three boats passed by them, the Wrents began to dig their claws into its hull and climb up the sides of the vessel. The first portholes were their entrances. Cuno climbed into one and torched an elf that saw him paw through the portal. No sound save for the crackle of his skin and the dull thud of his shield falling to the ground was made.

  Behind him, several more Wrents poured through the same window. The plan was working. They made their way through the halls of the ship, silencing elves as they came upon them. Those who were sailing the ship on the deck must not be aware of their danger until the very last moment.

  Lacha found Cuno at the base of the stairs that led to the deck. Nodding with grim pleasure, he motioned behind him.

  “No elves remain,” he said.

  “Then up we go,” Cuno replied, making his way stealthily up the stairs to where the unsuspecting elves waited. He was certain the same thing was happening on the ships that followed this one.

  Their plan, so far, was perfect.

  36: The Elves Marching On

  Dilinor felt ill at ease. He had made this march once, away from the city of Lone Peak thinking that they were going to fight the elves of the woods. What had happened was far different than that original plan. The elves had taken over every human city in Darrion, one by one. Now they were returning with fresh reinforcements to the city of Lone Peak, not to defend, but to take.

  It felt wrong. But he was also very aware that he was alone in his feelings. That or, at least, greatly outnumbered. The others who marched with him, especially the younger elves, felt that it was their right to rule the entire continent of Irradan. Those who defied Enoth were either to be subjugated or eradicated. And they didn’t seem to care which took place.

  They were now returning from a short campaign in the woods between Darrion and Enoth. Word had come that the bulk of Enoth’s forces were boarding ships and heading out from the forest. It was their job to rendezvous with them outside of Lone Peak and serve as reinforcements to the fresh forces being taken to the human capital. This was to be the last great offensive against Darrion. After this, they would slowly ensure that the entire continent would bow down to Enoth.

  Dilinor had paid as close attention as he could to his father’s plans and preparations. Finore, general to the elves of Enoth who had conquered Darrion, was not a secret person, though he guarded a few things, even from his own son. Still, Dilinor couldn’t help but notice strange things happening outside of taking over the cities of Darrion.

  In two of the cities they had taken, Finore had ordered the construction of towers. Impossibly tall and all with Rimstone crowning their tops. They mirrored other towers Dilinor had seen in the empire during his early years and travels with his father.

  These were the towers that had used nearly every available resource in the empire. Stone and timber, rock and Rimstone from all over Irradan were being used to create these massive structures.

  Nine in total.

  Dilinor wasn’t sure what the reason for them was, but he knew that Enoth did not take a single measure that was not weighed and considered. He wasn’t sure why these details had stuck out to him, but in his studies of the empire and the new conquests of the empire, he had seen one truth that gnawed at him.

  The empire of nine stars was building eight towers. Was there a final one to build? There had to be something of great significance to that.

  His thoughts on the matter were interrupted as the army was given the order to halt. They had marched for as long as the suns had been in the sky. The air around them was chill and the ground was hard with oncoming frosts. The city of Lone Peak was visible in the distance. Tomorrow, they would stand at its gates.

  Elves who had been cast out of the city had joined their ranks two days ago. Others they had taken from the cities that could spare them as they returned from the woods up to the human capital. Their force was large. It was going to only increase with the arrival of new troops.

  Darrion would be overwhelmed. Their capital would fall. The elven empire would find themselves as the rulers of all of Irradan.

  Yet Dilinor could not find joy in this. Something ached in him. He felt as if he were a part of a sickness, a disease on the land. Enoth had always overused. They had always reached too far. Now they sought the entire continent. What would come of it?

  He had begun to unpack his things and set up the tent, along with the three others who would share it with him, when he heard his name. He expected to hear it from a messenger or fellow soldier of Enoth. That was why he turned on his heel so quickly. The voice of his father was not what he had expected to hear.

  “Dilinor,” he said again, riding on top of his horse, a contingent of others behind him. “Come with us.”

  Dreading the treatmen
t and harassment he would hear upon his return, Dilinor noted the horse that had been brought without a rider. Obediently, he climbed on top of it and nodded at his father. Finore shook his reins and his horse began moving forward. Dilinor fell in line with the other commanders and captains of Enoth who followed their general.

  They rode ahead of the army, until they had a view of Lone Peak and the surrounding area. Finore turned his horse around and addressed them.

  “This is the final stroke of Enoth,” he announced. “After this strike falls, we will be the true rulers of the continent. Our empire will stretch from the southern wastes, to the forests of splendor, to this cliff on which the humans have made their stand against us.”

  He took a moment and looked around at them.

  “You have followed me, as I have followed the orders of our illustrious and glorious emperor.”

  Finore looked as if he was revealing the moment.

  “We have all made sacrifices to come to this point,” he said with an expression of understanding on his face. “But each of us who have given up something in order to obey Emperor Rophilborn will be repaid in kind!”

  The elves cheered at this. Dilinor remained silent, but tried to put what he hoped was a triumphant look on his face. It would not do him well to seem in doubt of the empire at this point.

  “Tomorrow,” Finore continued. “We march on Lone Peak. The emperor will assault from the sea. We will take the last human settlement and truly rule the land as one united empire!”

  More cheers.

  “Go to your soldiers and hearten them with these words. Tomorrow, we will be successful in our battle and overwhelm Darrion. Tomorrow, we will be victorious!”

  A chorus of “Yes, sir” broke out and the others turned to go. Having no soldiers to command, Dilinor assumed he was not yet dismissed. As the sound of the others’ horses trotting away faded, Finore turned his horse to face the city’s lights.