Elves- the Book of Daniel

by R Brent Powell

  "Henry, you suppose they're ready for us in the dining hall?" Barton asked.

  "If they're not, they soon will be so we can head that way now." They followed Henry out of the room and back into the hallways. Daniel wondered how long it took to learn your way around underground. Even with the oil lamps he had no idea where he was, and the idea of trying to find his way out in pitch dark was something he hoped he didn't have to try. The walk back to the great hall seemed shorter and their arrival at the large room was indeed a little early because the tables were still being set.

  "Henry, how many people live down here?" Daniel asked.

  "A few hundred," Henry replied, "but it changes. Some folks go off on business, some go to visit other cities, and some leave and never come back. Some of the folks spend their days above and their nights below, others spend their days below and their nights above. It all depends on their line of work." Barton added, “And some seek sanctuary from Baron Kleinhurst or some of the other groups of roughs that don’t agree with Basil’s way.”

  Before Daniel could ask another question, Basil came in followed by one of his guards. "Ah, clean and ready for a meal I see. Your timing couldn't be better. I'm told the cooks will be ready for serving in just a couple of minutes. Please, join me at my table." The rough tables were pressed close together and were long enough to fit six to a side. The room was large enough for three such rows with just enough space for one table about eight feet long. It was set perpendicular to the others at the end of the room opposite the door.

  As he strode through the hall toward his table, they heard a clatter from the kitchen. Basil’s head and then body immediately snapped around facing the sound and his expression grew wary. "Henry, find out if that racket is going to delay the meal and check with the cook and see how long before we eat. I know our guests are hungry and tired and still need to leave the city." Henry’s attention had focused on the kitchen door as soon as he heard the noise. His body seemed to flow into ‘ready’ mode as he veered toward what Daniel guessed were the kitchen doors before Basil had gotten out the third word.

  Henry had just reached the heavy smoke stained doors to the kitchen when they burst open ahead of six armed men, swords drawn searching for their target. Basil and his guard quickly drew their swords. Daniel and Barton had been trailing Basil as he headed for his table, leaving them closer and more exposed to the onrushing attackers. Henry, who was still on the floor from the impact of the kitchen door, wasn’t moving. Daniel looked desperately for a weapon and, seizing a chair, thrust it out before him. He’d been trained to use whatever he could find around him for protection, but trained or not he felt his knees weaken at the sight of the men rushing toward him.

  Daniel's mind was racing so fast odd details began to jump out at him. Three of the men carried something like large dirks, and an image of Crocodile Dundee’s giant knife supersized popped into his head.

  Though they closed the gap quickly, the slap of their shoes on the stone floor was soft as they ran. Suddenly, he knew they were not angry citizens but assassins or bounty hunters.

  He had no time now for anything but self-preservation. The first of the attackers, a man with a short sword, was upon him. With the first blow, the sword dug deep into the heavy cross brace between the legs of the chair. The impact nearly ripped the chair from Daniel's hands. Instinctively, he raised the chair and shoved forward with all his strength, catching the man off-balance and driving him backward as he attempted to free his sword. Behind him, he could hear the clang of steel on steel, but had no time to look back. Daniel's attacker, still trying desperately to free his sword tripped and fell backward. Daniel used momentum and throwing all his weight it, shoved the chair down. Though the man tried to protect himself with his arms, Daniel heard bones crack as the heavy chair leg slammed against the man's head. After the stunned second it took to realize the man was no longer moving, Daniel reached for the sword’s handle, popped the blade free of the chair brace, and turned toward the rest of the fight.

  Basil and his lone guard were fighting from behind Basil's table. It had been overturned forcing the attackers to work around the table legs. Basil and his guard were keeping the swords at bay but the fight couldn't last long. Without thinking, Daniel rushed them from behind and drove his stolen blade in between the shoulder blades of the man standing closest to Daniel.

  The sudden attack distracted the remaining men, providing Basil an opportunity to run his sword through his nearest opponent. Daniel saw the blade protrude briefly from the man’s back before disappearing back the way it had come. Now the fight had evened-up. With their numbers diminished, and surprise lost, the would-be assassins intensified their attack. Fighting for their own lives, they moved with desperation as if they could hear a clock counting down to the arrival of Basil’s guards. The man confronting Daniel was smooth, well balanced and practiced. He was aggressive in his attack and Daniel was constantly on the defensive trying to react in time to block the short sword while watching for the long knife.

  Daniel wielded his sword two-handed in the style of the samurai. It was heavier than he was used to and felt unbalanced and awkward but the adrenalin was helping to compensate and keep him alive while his assailant was trying to kill anything between him and the door.

  While his attacker drove forward Daniel maintained his center of balance, and slowly gave ground. Daniel knew better than to overextend and his unusual style was making the attacker wary. His face showed increasing desperation at not being able to finish Daniel off.

  For the third time, the assassin feinted with the sword, trying to draw Daniel into an attack where he could be dispatched with the knife. When Daniel recognized the feint, he maintained his space and cut off the hand carrying the knife just above the wrist. The sword had been sharp and the blow so fast, the attacker was still looking at the stump when Daniel pivoted bringing the sword back and removing the assailant’s head with almost continuous motion.

  To fighting men, experienced in combat, there comes a time to choose. These men chose to live. Backing away quickly, the remaining two dropped their blades. Barton quickly scrambled from beneath a table to gather the fallen weapons. Daniel turned at the sound of running, prepared for more attackers.

  "Hold, Daniel, these are friends come to help as soon as danger is passed, no doubt." Basil's laugh had both triumph and relief as his men surrounded the attackers.

  Daniel looked into the faces of those who'd come to help. They were staring at him and the bodies on the floor. The dead man with his skull crushed and the two at Daniel's feet, one without hand or head, made them wary of the stranger holding the sword rigid before him with both hands.

  As the caution and fear on their faces began to register, Daniel removed one hand from the hilt, slowly relaxed his grip, and let the sword tip drop till it rested on the floor. His eyes followed the noise of the clink of the blade tip on stone. For a moment, Daniel could only see the lake of blood about him, how it covered his hands and sleeves, and now ran down the sword’s blade. Then, as if were a snake he dropped the sword into the pool.

  Basil now approached Daniel. He had seen the glazed look in Daniel’s eyes and was waiting till he was sure Daniel was back within himself. He placed his arm across Daniel’s shoulder and said, “Well done, sir, I believe I owe you my life." Turning to Barton he continued, "Old friend, I should have known that any friend of yours would be more than meets the eye."

  Movement to his right caused Daniel to start; his eyes widening and hands tightening a little as if beginning to grip a hilt. His full attention was now focused on Henry, who just joined them, in recognition, Daniel’s hand quit trying to grip.

  "Three of the six with a chair and a stolen sword," Henry said while shaking his head, "and the whole time I heard him humming. Casual as a boy on a summer day. From now on I will take your questions more seriously, sir." Daniel was surprised to see an expression of admiration on Henry's face. Then suddenly, the face se
emed to be wiped clean. “And in saving Basil's life you have earned my loyalty and aid if ever you need it." Henry extended his hand and as Daniel reached to shake it, Henry extended his forward clasping Daniel's forearm. Instinctively, Daniel did the same to the cheers of the men around them. “Friend in deed,” Henry said quietly for Daniel’s ears alone.

  Daniel looked at the faces of the cheering men. From Henry to Basil to the faces of the entire group of strangers, the mood was one of welcoming and shared victory as if the prodigal son had returned home. All of the faces seemed to say, "He’s one of us, and we’re glad to have him." All were celebrating the victory – all save one.

  Barton was oblivious to the laughter and cheers. He had only one sound in his ears, for he had heard the humming as well. The hair on his arms and the back of his neck was standing up in gooseflesh, and as he looked at the boy splattered all over in blood, he shivered in recognition.

  SEVEN

  Basil called for wine as two men up-righted the tables. A dozen others appeared to carry off the bodies and begin cleaning with mops and water while still others hauled away broken furniture. The two captives were being led from the room under guard. Daniel realized Basil missed no detail as his well-oiled machine seemed to take all of this in stride.

  It was all starting to feel just a little bit too real, and Daniel was concerned that this might be what people in severe comas experience. Do their dreams become so real that they no longer remember there was another reality, he wondered.

  So far, he’d fallen asleep or hit his head or something, been beat up by a knight, thrown in a dungeon, escaped with magic, and lived through an assassination attempt. Oh yes, and ate an apple tasting like crap.

  A fairly eventful day, he thought, or night, or dream. He wasn't sure if it was safer to believe the dream was real or not. Wherever I am, he thought, this place is dangerous, and unlike any dream I’ve been in before. He couldn't help but think of The Matrix. If he died here, would he die wherever else he might be?

  He decided to continue playing out his role thinking of his purple character name hanging over his head. He felt like as long as he imagined the avatar, it would give him the separation he needed to prevent slipping completely into this reality. It wasn't much, but it provided an image of home for him to latch onto and he was sure he didn't want to die here or anywhere else.

  Okay, he told himself, if I'm going to take this on as a role-playing game, I’ve got to figure out weapons, allies, food, guilds, clans, and who the dark ones are. I'm an elf Ranger looking for the strategy guide.

  Daniel started looking around taking stock of his surroundings. He saw Barton sitting alone and lost in his own thoughts. Most of the denizens of down below were busy cleaning up the aftermath, stopping only occasionally to give Daniel a smile or nod. He’d completely lost track of time, and, with the adrenaline wearing off, he was hungry and sleepy. He’d been told they needed to be out of town before daybreak but he had no idea how to do that. This underground labyrinth obviously isn’t safe, he thought, if assassins could get to the lord of this subterranean world, I’m pretty sure the Baron's men could get here, too. He also knew better than to rely on Basil's goodwill, owed life or not.

  Daniel crossed the room to where Barton sat alone at one of the tables, and sat down across from him. "So, Barton, what has you so withdrawn?"

  Barton's head had been hanging as he leaned forward on the table with both his elbows planted wide and his hands pressed to the side of his head. He looked up at Daniel using only his eyes as if too tired or unwilling to move any more than he had to.

  "You've ruined a perfectly good a shirt and jerkin with blood," he said in a flat tone. "Their charity may start running out if you are not a little more careful."

  "Barton, what's going on? If we're supposed to be in this together you've got to teach me. This is all way too strange for me and I won't survive without a friend."

  "Friends," Barton said slowly dragging out the word, "friends don't keep secrets from each other."

  "Exactly the point I'm trying to make,” Daniel replied, "you've pulled up over here all by yourself at this table and you are not telling me what's going on."

  Barton's eyes narrowed, locking into Daniel's. "Then if we are to have no secrets between us, I have a question for you. Where did you learn to do magic? I've seen you use magic three times now, two of those times, you have casually done things that the greatest of the elves treat as legend. So explain yourself or don't look to me to share my secrets."

  Daniel could only stare at Barton, dumbfounded by his accusatory tone and rigid body language. This was not the way Daniel had expected the conversation to go. It was obvious to him that Barton was upset and that if he didn't come up with a good answer, he might not get another chance.

  "Barton, I've been trying to tell you, I don't know what's going on. I would be happy to tell you if I knew. I'm not even sure I know what you're talking about relative to three pieces of magic. First, I made the coin, then we got out through the dungeon wall, but I haven't done anything else magical."

  Barton studied Daniel's face closely. He appeared genuine, and he sounded genuine but… "And how do you explain your part of the battle?"

  "Mostly just lucky I think. They were all focused on Basil and his guards. I mean, the first one I hit with a chair. Nothing fancy about that. The second one I caught from behind with the first guy's sword. The third guy kept using the same kind of attack over and over. When I studied self-defense, my teacher taught us to look for people fighting in a pattern, you know, like swing high from the left, swing high from the right, swing low from the left, because once they become predictable they are easier to beat."

  "And what about the song you were humming," Barton pressed.

  “I wasn't really aware of much during the fight. It was just so fast and I was so scared. Combat during a competition is nothing like fighting for your life. It's like watching a movie in your head but you only get to see every tenth frame, Daniel thought, “there's a whole lot of detail that is just missing, Barton, I don't really remember humming anything. I used to hum different tunes when I was working out... sort of gave me a rhythm like thinking of a song when you're running." Daniel paused for a second as Barton’s implication began to sink in. "You mean you think I was doing something magical during the fight? Look, Barton, where I come from lots of people hum, sing, whistle, or whatever. It's not magic, it's just music. Don't you have music here that is just music?"

  "Yes we do," Barton replied slowly, "you can hear it coming from most any tavern in any city in the countryside, but what you were humming sounded like a song of power but different." Barton stopped for a second, trying to gather his thoughts and his words to better describe what he heard. "It was like a song of power or song of focus I sometimes heard the elves sing when I was growing up, but what you did was faster and more intricate than any of the songs I ever heard an elf sing. Tell me truthfully, Daniel. You say that you have no knowledge of the song?"

  "I swear I have no idea what happened during that fight other than it was fast and I was scared to death. I could've been singing the theme song to Gilligan's Island for all I know." The look on Barton's face had changed from one of intense scrutiny to one of confusion. Daniel realized after he said it that Barton would have no idea what Gilligan's Island was and that the reference was completely lost. The look on Barton's face was like an NPC when you got off script, the words just didn't register. “Barton, Gilligan’s Island was a TV show, a play, and it always began with the same song. It didn’t mean anything!”

  Before either could speak again, Basil approached them. "Barton, Daniel, if I may interrupt, the meal is ready and I beg you to join me at my table." Barton held Daniel's eyes for a second before he looked to Basil and began to rise.

  They followed Basil to a small table at the end of the room. Basil was standing behind the chair at the center of the small table at the end of the room. Henry was on Basil's
right. To Basil's left two chairs were open. Men and women were standing behind the other four chairs at the table. While a few of the faces were familiar, Daniel hadn't met any of them.

  "Barton, sit here to my left, and Daniel, to his left." Unsure of the protocol, Daniel stood behind the heavy ornate chair as directed and waited for others to pull their chairs out and sit down. It gave him a moment to look across the room. There were at least sixty men and women standing behind chairs at the long tables in the large room. Some were dressed in expensive finery, or at least it looked to be in good condition from fifteen to thirty feet away, others were dressed in the puffy blouses and jerkins or the simple yoked dresses Daniel was beginning to associate with working or servant class. As he looked into the faces of the room, they often quickly looked away trying to avoid eye contact. They were all looking at him, the stranger who had taken part in stopping the assassination attempt on their leader, and were trying not to be caught watching.

  "My friends," Basil began, "before we eat together I wish to welcome old and new friends. First, many of you know Barton who has returned to us from the Baron Above’s castle dungeon."