Divine Inspiration
Good morning, lad.
The deep rumbling voice in his mind woke Logan from sleep. As he opened his eyes, he realized that it wasn’t even quite dawn yet – early even for him.
Awfully early, isn’t it? he thought back to Hephaestus as he yawned and stretched in his bedroll.
The presence in his mind gave a dismissive snort.
I don’t sleep, I wouldn’t know.
Fair enough, Logan replied, his brain beginning to come fully awake. What can I do for you this morning? You don’t usually stop by just to chat.
True enough, lad. True enough. There are some things you need to know about the trouble you’re heading into, about the trouble your friends are about to find.
Fully awake now, Logan propped himself up on his elbows.
I’m listening.
Hephaestus wasn’t usually one for idle chatter and Logan never knew when the God of the Blacksmiths would speak to him but, an early warning from the god was more than a little worrying and definitely something that required his full attention. Logan contemplated waking El but then thought better of it. Even with their mental link, she had never been able to hear Hephaestus when he spoke to Logan. Logan wasn’t quite sure why that was, El had no idea and Hephaestus wasn’t offering any suggestions.
I assume you’ve figured out who is waiting for you in the Dark Elf village?
I’ve got some ideas, yeah. I just can’t figure out how.
Lad, you’re not the only one with divine assistance. As a young man, Siris was a ruthless warrior - aggressive, violent, and single minded. All the things that would make you stand out to certain gods. And he did. Ares, that bloodthirsty buffoon, was so impressed with him that he made Siris his champion.
Ares, the God of War, Lan’thor mentioned him when he retold the Dark Elf’s story.
Yep lad, that’s the one.
But, where was he when I fought Siris in T’ael? If Siris was his champion, why didn’t Ares step in to save him?
You mean like I did with you? Despite what you might think, lad, we gods do have other things to do than watch our individual champions. I mean really, let’s face it, the last year or so for you hasn’t exactly been riveting. Now that you’re finally doing something interesting, I’m back. And Ares is even less interested in the mortals on Tir’an. Blood and war are all that hold his attention and things in T’ael had been pretty quiet once Siris and his crew gained power.
Why didn’t you tell me any of this before?
Really? Oh come on, now. You could barely come to terms with your situation. You’d have completely lost it if I told you that you were going up against Ares’ champion. Besides, if all worked out, which it did, you didn’t need to know.
Apparently it didn’t, since it looks like I’m going to have to face him again.
The voice in Logan’s head paused and Logan got the distinct impression that Hephaestus was uncomfortable with the last point.
Well… er… Yes, so it would seem. Ares came back from whatever trouble he was causing and found his champion was dead. He was unimpressed to say the least. We had words. He used that pain in the rump mage of his, Reese, to rescue the body and steal it away. My guess is that he gave the mage the secret to restore Siris, hence the situation with the Dark Elves.
Wait a minute, Logan interrupted. Why bother? I mean, why bother resurrecting the general at all? If he was that upset, why didn’t he just take it up with you? Why go to all the trouble of bringing back a mortal and enslaving an entire village?
Ah, well that’s fairly straightforward, really. Ares loves bloodshed and pain and has enslaved villages for far less. Siris was - I guess, is - a sick bastard even by your mortal standards and has caused a great deal of havoc on Tir’an, which made Ares very happy. As for why he didn’t take it up with me? Well, he wanted to, but since I made his armour and his weapons, he wasn’t sure they would be effective against me. Not to mention, he may need something in the future.
Wait, Logan interrupted again. You made Ares’ weapons?
Hephaestus’ pause was more quizzical this time.
Well, of course I did. Still do actually. I’m the God of Blacksmiths, who else would make them?
But, you obviously have issues with him. Why would you arm him? asked Logan.
That’s what I do, I’m an armourer, lad. If I didn’t make armour what would be the point? And Ares, being the God of War, is one of my best customers. I mean business is business.
Logan’s head hurt as he tried to get back on point.
So, I’m heading into another fight with general Siris and his creepy mage Reese. Anything else?
Don’t forget about the Goblins?
Right, and a horde of Goblins.
Two hordes, really. Oh, and this time you can be sure that Ares will be watching, so be careful. He has a score to settle and it would amuse him to break my champion – there may even be betting – but I have faith in you, lad.
Logan had a nauseous feeling deep in his stomach.
Great. Any more good news?
One more thing. Your friends will be encountering Siris and his minions in the next day or so. You might want to get moving. Oh, and I’ve arranged for some backup, though I doubt it will arrive in time.
This last comment left Logan wondering, but he had long since learned that Hephaestus shared what Hephaestus saw fit. He pushed the thought from his mind. He had enough to think about.
The sun had reached the horizon and the sky was painted with pinks and oranges. He and El had been pushing much harder in the last days and El was pretty certain that they were gaining on Lan’thor, Raeth, and their party of Elves. Reaching over, Logan gently nudged El awake.
“Come on. They’re in trouble! We’ve got to get moving!”
Did Someone Request A Wakeup Call?
Morning was still an hour or so away, the sky just beginning to lighten with the impending dawn, when Lan’thor was gently shaken awake. A firm hand on his mouth kept him from speaking as he found Raeth kneeling over him, her dark eyes flashing a warning. The rest of her features were lost in the gloom of the pre-dawn light and the cowl she wore.
“We have company,” she said softly, her voice barely a whisper.
Lan’thor nodded his understanding and she pulled her hand away.
“How many and where?” Lan’thor asked in the same tone.
Raeth nodded off toward the Northeast, the direction of the Dark Elf village, before answering the first question.
“Seems to be a medium sized raiding party.”
Lan’thor frowned to himself. The feeling of being watched had never gone away and he had been expecting trouble. Despite Ar’n’tor’s assurances and reassurances that he and his mages had hidden the Elves from prying eyes he had suddenly refused to continue creating energy barriers over the camp, Lan’thor had set a perimeter guard and had asked his scouts to take turns patrolling beyond that. He was actually somewhat surprised that all they faced was a single raiding party. He’d been expecting something much larger, more along the lines of an all out attack.
Thank the gods for small miracles, he thought to himself.
“I’ve woken the rest of the scouts and they’re waking the camp,” Raeth continued. “We don’t have much time. It won’t be long before they breach our perimeter.”
Again Lan’thor nodded. Like all his warriors he kept his weapons close, even at night, and he was ready for battle in moments. To his left he saw Raeth’s dark form flitting through the camp waking the warriors. Lan’thor was proud to note that not a sound broke the stillness of the pre-dawn morning. The raiders would not catch his warriors asleep as they had hoped. Even better, the Elves’ readiness would be a surprise, hopefully a lethal one.
A figure moved through the darkness towards him and Lan’thor could feel the restless energy off the young warrior. He placed a hand on the young Elf’s shoulder as he drew close.
“Soon,” Lan said softly. “You stay
by me.”
Le’land nodded his understanding and silently loosened his weapons.
The Elfin warriors did not have long to wait. A great bellowing war cry rose from the Northeast as spears filled the gloom, raining down on the camp in a deluge of stone and metal blades. Taking what cover they could, the Elves answered the raiders’ attack with the points of their arrows and bolts of flame from the mages, firing into the tree line at the source of the spear attack. Within moments blood spilled on both sides and the screams of the wounded and dying woke the swamp.
After the initial spear attack came the raging chaos of a small horde of Goblins. Squat, grey creatures darted here and there. Their dark, grey colouring and dirty cloaks allowed them to blend into the pre-dawn gloom as they swept toward the Elfin warriors stabbing with knives and spears. The low campfires throughout the camp allowed brief views of pointed, jagged teeth and horrible faces as the figures ran past. Lan’thor recoiled in disgust.
Great, he thought. Goblins! I hate Goblins!
And then the little horrors were upon him. It was time to fight. Slashing with his sword, he opened up the stomach of the first Goblin to reach him, spilling its entrails. To Lan’s momentary surprise, his adversary didn’t collapse. Clutching its spilling guts as best it could, the little beast continued to press towards him, until Lan’thor drove his blade through the little monster’s throat nearly severing its head from its shoulders.
Damn, he thought as he watched the monster collapse to the ground and yanked his sword free of its spine. I forgot how tough the little buggers are.
“Clean kills,” he called to his warriors over the din of fighting. “Or they’ll just get back up again.”
To his right, Le’land was using his bo-staff to batter the skull of a persistent little monster that had latched its jagged yellow teeth into the young warrior’s leg. With a grunt of effort, Le’land smashed down with the butt of his weapon, crushing the beast’s skull and finally killing it. Even in death the Goblin was loath to release its prey and Le’land had to use one of his arrows to pry the jaws open and free his leg, the beast’s teeth leaving behind a nasty gash in his thigh. Tearing a strip of fabric from his cloak, Le’land quickly wrapped the wound and cast a quick glance towards his commander.
“Now you tell me.”
Lan flashed the young warrior a smile.
“Girls love scars!” he announced as he intercepted a Goblin that sought to take him from behind. Le’land caught movement in his peripheral vision and slammed his staff into an attacking Goblin’s mouth, shattering its teeth, knocking it back on its ass and temporarily dazing it. The sound of fighting echoed through the swamp.
The attack, fierce as it had been, passed quickly and the Elves held the day. Raeth’s warning had been timely. The Goblins had been counting on finding their prey sleeping and Lan shuddered to think of how much differently things might have gone had the little monsters succeeded. The Elves’ readiness robbed the Goblins of their element of surprise and turned it back on them. The raiding party was quashed and with a concentrated effort from the Elfin warriors the few surviving Goblins were pushed back into the swamp.
As the sun finally broke the horizon and the true dawn light illuminated the clearing, the Elves found themselves the victors in the early morning surprise attack. Goblin bodies littered with arrows or caved in heads, were sprawled around the clearing. Various bugs were already seeking an early morning meal as the Elves sought out their own wounded and dead. Blessedly, their losses were minimal.
The guard who had been stationed on the Northern perimeter was found with his throat slit and numerous slashes and wounds to his body. It was clear that the horde had overwhelmed him quickly, before he’d had a chance to sound an alarm. Beyond that, the initial spear attack had cost the lives of six of Lan’s Elves and had wounded several more, but the actual Goblin charge had been largely ineffective with only minor cuts and bruises amongst the warriors. Again, Lan’thor thanked the gods for Raeth’s warning.
The Gateway To Hades
The two Goblins shook as they knelt before the blind old human, their voices tremulous as they explained their raiding party’s in broken Tir’anish.
“Took guard,” mewled the first Goblin, the larger of the two and thereby the leader according to the Goblin’s strength and power based hierarchy. “Took him quiet. Like was told.”
“Like was told! Like was told!” agreed his smaller companion.
“Attacked dark,” continued the larger. “Like was told, before sun woke up.”
“Like was told!” the other nodded excitedly.
“They’s ready! No sleep! No sleep!”
“No sleep! No sleep!”
“Raiders dead!” jabbered the larger Goblin. “All’s gone.”
“Gone!” moaned the smaller.
Reese brought his sightless gaze down on the two Goblins. A frown crossed his lips. With a wave of his hand and a murmur on his lips, both of the little creatures before him screamed in agony as a crackling energy flowed into them. They screamed as they died, convulsing in agony as they collapsed to the ground. The stench of burning flesh filled the air as other Goblins watched in a mixture of fear and awe. As the screams died away, Reese finally spoke.
“Now your raiding party is all gone.”
Reese turned away from the charred remains and strode across the square. Before him lay the largest building in the Dark Elf village, it had been used for religious rites and gatherings. Reese snickered to himself, it still was. He and his companion had taken up residence here. It was from here that they controlled the village, from here that they fed Siris’ ever present need for life energy and from here that they made their sacrifices to the great god Ares. Reese could only hope that Goblins he had just sent would amuse the God of War.
“So, the attack failed?” Siris asked as Reese stepped across the threshold and into the large chamber.
At the far end of the chamber was a raised platform and an altar. When the two had first arrived, this altar was loaded with foods and crafts the Dark Elves were offering to their gods. Apparently, given how easily Reese and Siris had taken the village, the Dark Elf gods were not impressed with the sacrifice.
Currently, the altar held an offering of a different sort. The remains of a Dark Elf were barely recognizable as blood coagulated and dried on the polished stone.
“Not really surprising,” the mage answered.
“No, not really,” Siris agreed washing up in a small basin before patting his hands dry with a small towel. “But, worth a shot all the same.”
“And now they distrust each other even more. Even now, the commander of the Elves and their lead mage are having words.” Reese paused and gave his comrade a feral smile. “They are far from cohesive.”
“Yes, yes!” Siris replied with a dismissive waive of his hand. “And they won’t be sleeping well either - more guards, more fear, more chaos. I do know how this works, my friend.”
Reese bowed slightly to his companion.
“Of course, my apologies. Foolish of me to state the obvious to Ares’ own champion.”
The mage’s words brought a laugh from Siris and he moved across the room to place a hand on his friend’s shoulder.
“Now, now. Come on, Reese. No need to get formal on me. Not after all we’ve been through. I apologize for my little outburst.” Siris gestured toward the altar. “I simply grow weary of this village and the limited pleasures that can be found here.”
Reese nodded his acceptance of the younger man’s apology and allowed Siris to guide him to a low table at the end of the hall.
“Are we ready for the next steps?”
The old mage nodded, a cruel smile on his lips.
“Oh yes!” he hissed. “Things are moving along quite well. Our new ally will be of great use. All we had to promise him was dominion over the Forest Elves.”
Siris laughed out loud.
“My, my, an Elf with a lust for power. I always thought that was
supposed to be a human failing. What is this world coming to?”
“Apparently, the races are far more similar than their arrogance had ever let them believe.”
“And of course, we’re not really going to give him dominion over the Elves, are we?”
It was Reese’s turn to laugh, a sharp cackle that sent shivers down the spine.
“Of course not. If he somehow manages to survive the coming conflict, we will feed him to Ares as soon as he has outlived his usefulness. We all know how fond Ares is of traitors.”
“And an Elfin traitor, no less,” continued Siris. “The race that prides itself on honour and loyalty. Ares will definitely have fun with that.”
Siris bellowed for wine and in moments two Dark Elf maidens - their black skin tight across their bodies, their clothes little more than rags, their eyes downcast - hurried in with a tankard for each of them, being careful not to spill a drop in their haste. Punishment was often fatal.
“To Ares!” toasted Reese, raising his tankard high in the air, ale sloshing over the brim.
“To us!” replied Siris, lifting his own tankard before taking a large swallow.
Betrayed!
“There is no need for such measures,” announced Ar’n’tor haughtily. “My mages have us well and truly hidden.”
“Like they did this morning?” snarled Lan’thor in response.
The two Elves stood in the middle of a small clearing in the swamp. After beating a hasty exit from the site of this morning’s battle, the Elves had moved at double time through the swamp, trying to put some distance between them and the skirmish site and hopefully avoiding any unwanted attention. It was now mid-afternoon and the Elves were in desperate need of a break. When Lan’thor’s scouts reported this clearing, Lan decided it was a good place for that break. They were closing on the Dark Elf village and he needed his Elves to be well rested and ready for whatever they might encounter there.
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