By the time our counsel started, I had laid down a fine strategy to counter the invading fleet, roughly a week from our shores. I remained confident in my Starspire vessels and my fellow islanders' ability to navigate, as it is what we do. The wind was in our favor, and it would be for weeks. Ever since my first year at sail, I've known the fierce westward wind blows this time of year. It proved splendid for traveling or trading to the mainland if one wasn't inclined to return in a hurry. A fire attack could prove devastating against an enemy moving east only to be hit by a fire that would quickly spread behind them.
If the enemy stalled their advance until the winds died, they'd find themselves surrounded by hundreds of my ships. My stealthy crafts, pure black, and my commanders of the water need no light to ambush an opposing armada. Elzeenor offered the elf host he arrived with, taking to the land in an ambush in case the foe had other tricks. He insisted we light our encampment and the city of Dole to give the false impression the settlement was bustling and active, when, in reality, they would be vacant while elves hid in the shadows to surprise unsuspecting invaders.
The Curator made himself well understood that day when he called me a primitive island dog, insulting my intelligence. He also threatened to cage the ward I brought with me from home, my companion, friend, and warrior in her own right, Kyo, a tiger who left many wary. I understood his reservations, but not his insults. Still, I accepted my place would be to serve, and my presence at counsel, a false honor. Then he turned his eyes on Elzeenor, his own Kaelliakie neighboring ally, and repeated the same disrespect. Vigo instructed him to return to his base of operation north and wait for word of our success. I suspect Vigo wanted nothing more than to wipe this threat out by his strategy and wished to share victory with no other.
I am still unsure what he had plotted, knowing now how massive our threat ended up being. Hornsworth led us into one of the bloodiest failures imaginable, given our advantage to defend. My scouts learned the initial invading fleet might have been half of our size, but deeper south than them, came another enemy navy every bit as massive as the one we prepared to face. I got the impression the Curator was aware of this and intended for my forces to charge the hostiles, regardless. I suspect he planned to send his ships out only after the second rivaling assemblage ambushed my men and me. It was careless and a horrifying thought, but I went along with the order, already planning to deflect an ambush upon the sea.
The night they came, Damia's legion stormed in and left the east in disaster. On the waters, I charged, bringing fire upon the initial squadron, which gave very little resistance to counter my charge. Despite my previous concern, I thought I might have been wrong as they turned to sail in retreat. I knew well enough they possessed a second regiment out there, so I dared not pursue, but when I gazed back to the eastern shore, I beheld horror.
The pulsling folk none were ready for. They took no boat. Their march was under the water, and by the thousands, they charged underneath us. Like black ants swarming to feast, I could only make out so much from my vantage point, yet I saw them devour the beaches and our immense well-lit encampment, along with Hornsworth's boats awaiting launch. An unexpected severe onslaught slammed the entire coast. One by one, I watched as the fire in the distance diminished while the menaces raided my allies, trampling everything in sight until every torch and source of light on the shore faded to black. I couldn't be sure what had happened, but I knew I witnessed a slaughter by an unthinkable foe.
It was then warning of the second army came, and to the south, they sailed fast toward us. Worse yet, the first armada turned back and reversed their retreat. Morale dwindled to nothing. Our relief from the coast dissipated, and now we waited for our death. I took charge and commanded a retreat north to save what was left. The enemy did not pursue but took to the shores to join their undead lead. Victoriously their invasion began.
I would find Elzeenor and his elven host waiting on safer shores that took us in. The elf adviser had foreseen The Curator’s loss and sent thousands of his own in to help counter and deflect enemy advances. His readied mind is the only reason I found Gormania's capital, Navelle, intact when I arrived to report to the Curator and see my family. However, the worst had yet to come. My family never received transportation from Dole to Navelle, and Dole now lay demolished in the onslaught. My daughter and wife were killed. Worst yet, Hornsworth ordered me flogged for retreating, and then and there, he killed Kyo. Out of pain and anguish, I reacted when I ran him through with my sword, slaying the Curator and defender of the eastern alliance. It is from my prison in Gormania that I write the new Head Commander of the allied forces to confess my acts and explain why I did what I did. Punish me how you see fit.
Amaud Ujero
Elzeenor Zavon, the newly promoted Supreme Commander of the Allied Forces, discarded Amaud Ujero's admission of guilt no sooner than it was delivered. Without delay, he issued a pardon with the order that Vigo Hornsworth's murderer be sent to him. As far as Elzeenor was concerned, Amaud had done a just service by removing a threat arguably larger than the enemy itself. The incompetence of Vigo the Curator allowed for this invasion to succeed on the first day and lost near a thousand war vessels. In Elzeenor's eyes, Amaud was a hero that suffered far more than many upon the first attack. Not even a native of their land, he came bearing gifts and trusted his family safe in a secured location. He lost countless warships and crew. Now devastated by the loss of his daughter, wife, and tiger ward, the war hero would get his due.
To please the mortal King, Lieulundrum, the Starspire Island's navy now belonged to the Eastern Alliance, while Amaud would remain stationed with the Head Commander. Elzeenor found what best fit Amaud's potential, however, was as friend and confidant to himself. He thought the Eastern Alliance owed a great debt to Amaud. Elzeenor intended not only to honor him but use Amaud to terrible effect against the enemy.
Chapter Six
The Eastern Realm
Kaelliakie - 9 months after the unsealing of the gate.
The land east of the sea, the Kaelliakie continent, otherwise known as The Eastern Realm, existed quite the opposite of Murnia. Throughout its long line of history, three primary races blessed these nations with a variety of cultures. An elder spirit seemingly soaked the soil and filled the air, resulting in a magical essence remaining in the East, filling its dwellers with life, beauty, and an age of peace.
Far smaller than Murnia, Kaelliakie was composed of three nations: dwarf, elf, and human mortal folk. The elves of Loomis owned the northern realm while the mortals of Gormania kept the south. Dwarfs inhabited the entire mountain range that surrounded Loomis and Gormania, along with a stretch of immense cliffs slicing through the center between Gormania of mortals south and Loomis of elves north.
The essence of the eastern realm was one of harmony, and these nations maintained peace with one another for a long age in their isolated lands. Their only ally in Murnia was a very loose friendship with minotaurs of Lamisdoria, but in recent years they sought a relationship with Divox. This offering was more of a caution than anything. Divox’s continued civil war, and later insults against their affiliate minotaur nation, forced the easterner's hand. After a growing suspicion, Kaelliakie inhabitants kept a wary eye on Divox activity. Then again, so did Murnia. Divox proved to be a wild child of nations, always ready to fight. Most Easterners now wished they had acted against Divox, as it became clear whatever mischief occurred there led to this terrible invasion.
High Elf Queen Haelleenia had once counseled, "Allow Murnia peoples to do Murnia things. It is as it has been and should be. Do not disturb what should not be disturbed. Do not force an alliance on people that ask for none. We live in the East, and in the East lies our only concern." King Lieulundrum of mortals and King Dwaven of dwarfs agreed with her stance.
With the Eastern realm being the keeper of many precious ancient artifacts, beautiful crafts, liquors, fabrics, herbs, oils, and more, they were a much sought after trade partner. With Lamisdoria b
eing the closest nation considered an ally, Kaelliakie citizens often used the minotaurs to trade between the rest of Murnia.
Out of all known areas of their world, the Kaelliakie people proved the most potent collective strength. With the rise of menacing foes, the Easterners believed themselves the shield for the scattered and divided free people in Murnia. If they failed, Kaelliakie assumed Murnia would be next, and there would be no hope for the unprepared people west of the sea. They feared their power might not be enough, yet from afar, the seeds of an alliance had grown. Unknown to King Edward Dawnhand, Lord Lucas, the supreme Cassenneth commander, had developed a loose kinship with the eastern lords and fought to convince his King to befriend the East.
Kaelliakie had been somewhat successful at repelling the enemies' assault from their southern borders for months. Their original Head Commander left them open and off to a terrible beginning, but after Elzeenor Zavon took up his mantle, he kept the foes contained to the southern lands. Losing the mortal capital of Navelle, along with the entire region, was a devastating blow, but all was not lost, for the new Head Commander proved far more talented and insightful than Vigo Hornsworth. Once the infected minotaurs joined forces with the dark army's offense, Kaelliakie became far outnumbered.
Among elves, one crafty genius had risen and surpassed many high lords of the East, both in legend and title. Elzeenor possessed an eye for warfare and a mind for strategy that could not be matched. He won battles from hundreds of miles away by sending instructional letters to his generals containing few words. For every predicament, Elzeenor had the wisdom to reverse roles and captivate the larger, menacing enemy in his net, while offering precise and incomparable battle strategies. Through his cunning schemes, battles were won with wits and not strength through numbers.
The initial assault from the opponent was too much to handle, and the surprise forces from the Lamisdoria minotaurs dealt the Eastern Realm a fatal blow. Making safe their evacuation toward Loomis, the alliance retreated from Gormania to make their primary base the dwarven mines that divided mortals and elves in the center of the land. Many battles and skirmishes took place in the northern Gormania grasslands of Urnen. The attempt to hold back the mighty tide was perilous. Still, Elzeenor's trickery and strategies continued preventing the foe from entirely claiming all Gormania.
***
Within a thick forest bordering the Pallae Sea, a brigade gathered in a place called Urnen's Gut in north Gormania. A chill breeze filled the air, and dense fog shadowed the moon. In the valley, a massive campground had been hastily built by approximately twelve thousand men and women, both mortal and elf. The campground lay in a deep, well-hidden gorge. Above the valley, bushy trees shadowed the view which kept their presence unknown to the enemy. Urnen's Gut appeared like a giant crease in the world's foundation.
The camouflaged tents in the campground blended with the scenery. These tents were created by the elves, which meant perfection. While there appeared to be magic in them by the common eye, in reality, no enchantments were used. Many elves possessed the unique ability to craft beautiful things and create wonders that looked real even if they were not. The valley was covered in tents that mimicked colossal bushes, which kept their base undetectable from afar. Elves could costume almost anything, of any size, to appear like something it was not. Turning a standard tent into a dead ringer for a lively bush was an easy task for nearly any elf of the east. Even the tent fibers’ scent was disguised to throw off night prowlers. The elves prepared for all possibilities.
This group’s mission was on a hasty schedule. The allies intended to head north and return to the mines at sunrise to join the rest of the alliance. Some troops patrolled the valley and the forests to secure the terrain and prevent a night raid from the enemy. This allowed soldiers to rest, and most slept in this late hour, but for others, rest was not a priority.
***
"We just claimed grand success only to return here and learn we are retreating? Run away after all the progress we've made? I don't understand it," Magus Dawnhand said, as he floated in the Pallae Sea on his back, gazing up at the stars while speaking to his companion, Amaud Ujero, who stood above on a rocky overhang.
"It's getting dangerous in this area. If we must retreat, it is not without merit," Amaud said, crouching to survey the blanket of water.
While most of the others waited within the forest nearby, either in counsel or dreams, these two were in the open, outside the cover of forest. Magus's red hair was pulled up in a high tight ponytail, and his loose-fitting garments floated about him. His companion wore darker garments that melded with his long black hair. Ten years Magus's senior, nearing forty, Amaud’s bearing was somber while Magus’s free-spirited attitude had changed little since his youth. Rarely solemn, he was naturally amiable and often jubilant.
As they awaited their Head Commander’s summons, fog had rolled in, making the moon's glow almost nonexistent while a cold breeze strengthened as gusts of wind whirled around them. Cold nights in summer were not typical, but nothing about this last year reflected normal. There was, no doubt, a storm somewhere nearby.
"I don't understand how you can go along with everything you're being told without questioning it." Magus said. Amaud shook his head.
"Master Magus, I question many things. I also wonder about this, but I trust our commander. And I have many a question for you too."
Magus pushed himself closer to the overhang while curiosity painted his face. "Me? Aye, out with it."
"You are of an esteemed bloodline. Brother to the king of a northern country across the sea. Your presence here makes little sense to me, much like the things you've seen here make little sense to you," Amaud said. He figured now might be the best opportunity to share his thoughts. "Your way of dress. The people you arrived with. The way you act is far from the royalty I've met, Master Magus."
"I guess," Magus frowned and stroked his chin with his thumb and index finger. "Perhaps you would understand more if you came to my homeland. I wanted no part of royalty. I wanted to live a humble life, and I have. My brother wanted to be King, and he is. What's wrong with that, Amaud?"
"Your connection to the north would serve us well. It disappoints me to know who you are when it is of no value if you reject your birthright." Amaud picked up a loose rock and threw it into the water as he waited for Magus to respond. When Magus said nothing, Amaud continued, "A strong ally in Murnia is what we need. Am I right in guessing there is a strain or tension between you and your brother?"
Magus flopped upon his back and floated once more, not sure how to answer. Sure, he and his brother were a complicated pair. They had significant disputes over the years, an often estranged history Magus put out of his mind as much as he could. After several moments, he finally responded. "Not strained. Just different. There is love for Edward and the people of Cassenneth. We lead different lives, and I never wanted the things he did. We are opposites. Sorry, I came to your aid, where he did not. He's stubborn. My cousin keeps in contact with the easterners, you say?"
"So Head Commander says. Elzeenor doesn't reveal to me everything. I am but a piece to his design. A champion he gets when he finds use for me." Magus laughed at Amaud's answer, still finding the eastern world far stranger than back home. The feeling was mutual for Amaud. When at first Elzeenor asked Amaud to watch over Magus and take him under his wing, Amaud remained reserved about the situation. Still, both ended up liking one another and found they had at least one thing in common. They fought in Kaelliakie, not as natives, but loyal to the cause, nevertheless. They came to help.
"Where I come from, people say what they mean. I'm not used to so much secrecy," said Magus.
"We are human. Mortals among elf leaders in a foreign land. They do things their way, but I am with you. It's all very different." Amaud paused but a moment before continuing in a graver tone, "I would ask of you, now that you've seen how things are, does this not change your mind? Your desire to help is strong. Don’t you want to u
se what power you have at your disposal to lend us a much greater force than the few men you brought from your northern highlands?"
Magus sighed, understanding Amaud's blatant hint. Unlike Amaud, who kept his past a secret, Magus had revealed his background openly. "I try not to think about that. I keep distant from that life. It is not like I do not still hold influence. I choose not to use it. My brother keeps me listed as an heir, and with it, I am a part of his counsel; however, I've never once sat in on it. I made my choice. But yes, of course, if the decision were mine, I would offer aid if that is what you mean to ask."
"It is precisely my question," said Amaud.
"Is this what this is about, my island friend? Did the Head Commander ask you to keep me close in hopes I may influence my brother to bring allies?"
"I know nothing for certain, but I suspect as much," Amaud said. "The last greatest power of Murnia combined with Kaelliakie would be a force to reckon with. I fear with only more enemies sailing in, we will eventually become overpowered no matter how many times we win. Despite our many victories, the enemy seems to gain strength. It is baffling to me."
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