Final Voyage of the Remora

by Richard S. Tuttle

  "I was afraid of that," frowned Prince Rigal. "We are not fitting in as well as I thought we would."

  "How could we fit in?" asked Lyron. "We may be elves, but we know nothing of these people."

  "The father is very warlike," reported Mite. "He wants his son to be so, too."

  "I take it that Tomar is not living up to his father's expectations?" asked Prince Rigal.

  "Not at all," answered the small green man. "They had harsh words for one another. I think that escorting us is a form of punishment."

  "Perhaps we should slip away during the night?" suggested Gerant. "The last thing we need is to be brought before the king of the Dielderal and branded as spies."

  "Slipping away in the middle of the night would only confirm the old man's suspicions," sighed Prince Rigal. "We have four days to figure out a way of disappearing without alarming Tomar and his wife."

  * * *

  As the small group of elves entered the village, a woman ran over to Laring and thanked her for the meat that she had delivered the day before. Laring spoke to her quietly, but Gerant was able to hear most of the conversation. Laring had asked that the village keep any eye on her parents and Tomar's parents. The thankful woman frowned heavily, but nodded her assurances without hesitation. Other elves called out to Tomar and Laring as the group moved through the village. While there were many curious glances at the three strangers, no one addressed them, and Tomar pointedly forgot to introduce them to anyone. Prince Rigal sensed the underlying stress that was growing between the Alceans and their escorts. During the journey, Tomar struck up seemingly innocent conversations, but they always seemed to probe the origins of the visitors. One time he asked if they had ever been to Valdo. Another time the same question was posed about another city. Each time Prince Rigal answered negatively and changed the conversation. Before half a day had passed, Prince Rigal knew that they would never complete the journey without answering some of Tomar's questions. When they stopped for midday break, the elven prince decided to address it.

  "There is a gap growing between us," Prince Rigal said. "Have we done something to offend you?"

  "No," Tomar replied. "I am not happy to be leaving our parents alone. I am anxious to complete this journey and get back to them."

  "It seems more than that to me," replied Prince Rigal. "You have not introduced us to any of the villagers that we have come across."

  "And how could I introduce you?" asked Tomar. "You seem quite ignorant of your lineage. Names alone mean little in Elfwoods. Be it right or wrong, people will judge you by your family. You have none that I know of."

  "Those sound more like the sentiments of your father," probed Prince Rigal.

  Tomar turned and stared into Prince Rigal's eyes as if searching for the source of the words spoken. Eventually, he nodded.

  "That was my father speaking," Tomar admitted. "He is old and bitter, yet I love him dearly. It has been so many years since he was taken from Elfwoods that he probably has forgotten what it feels like to return. It is not really a return at all. We have never known the Elfwoods, even though we were born here. He seems to forget the strangeness of it all and the need to lean on others who have recently been through the same thing."

  "What was it like in Despair?" asked Prince Rigal.

  "The name of the human city is appropriate," scowled Tomar. "It is filthy and crowded. Never can one fulfill the need to be alone, and the food is inadequate. While my father may complain about the game in the forest, it is a bounty compared to what we were given in Despair. You are constantly beaten, not only by the humans, but also by some of the older elves. If there were no hope of returning to Elfwoods, I think many would choose to die rather than continue such an existence. Was it not the same where you were held?"

  "No," replied the elven prince. "I cannot imagine the anguish of your stay with the humans. Why did they take you?"

  Tomar's eyes narrowed as he stared at Prince Rigal. "I have been told that it is the same for all of us," he stated, "regardless of where we are taken. How is it that you have not experienced the same pains?"

  "We are from across the sea," Prince Rigal admitted as he closely watched the reactions of the Dielderal.

  "You are newly captured?" gasped Laring. "I did not know that the ships still sailed to our ancestral homeland."

  "Yet that is where we are from," replied the prince. "Now perhaps you can understand our ignorance of the ways of the Elfwoods."

  "Indeed I do," replied Tomar, his eyes wide with understanding. "Are there many elves still remaining there?"

  "Many," nodded Prince Rigal, "but I am hesitant to talk about such things until I understand more about the Elfwoods. I imagine such tales could cause widespread discomfort among some. Why were you taken by the empire?"

  "They take all newborns from the Elfwoods," answered Tomar. "It has been so for many generations. It is the humans' way of ensuring that the elves do not revolt. We are kept for twenty years and then allowed to return to our families."

  "But some choose not to return?" asked Prince Rigal.

  "Some do," Tomar nodded sadly. "The humans teach us many things in the younger years. Some think it is done altruistically, but I know better. The education is given to indoctrinate the young in the hopes that eventually the Elfwoods will become a willing part of the empire. Some of the elves believe such nonsense, and they stay in the humans' world. Those elves are no better than the Baroukans. I suspect that my father thought that you three were among those. I fear that is why he treated you poorly."

  "But why do they want the elves?" asked Lyron. "Why keep a whole nation captive?"

  "For the mines," answered Tomar. "Each able-bodied male in Elfwoods is required to work the mines of the Badlands. We work one month straight and then are returned to the Elfwoods for a month off. This continues until we are no longer capable of working. That is the reason that the ships captured us and brought us here. You will discover that soon enough."

  "Why not escape?" asked Gerant.

  "To where?" replied Tomar. "The Barrier is impassable, and the Despair River is watched closely."

  "What about the sea?" questioned Lyron.

  "The sea is our burial place," frowned Tomar. "We are not permitted to bury our dead. The bodies are taken to the sea and fed to the sharks. This ensures that we do not try to leave by the sea."

  "Besides," added Laring, "no one could bear the responsibility of the deaths of the children in captivity. That is why they are taken in the first place. We are hopeless."

  "You must not even think of escape," warned Tomar. "While your children are not in captivity, many others are. If you try to escape, our children will pay the price for it."

  "I think I would rather die than be a slave," commented Lyron.

  "Would you really?" asked Tomar. "King Elengal tells a story which I am sure you will hear in a few days. The story is about the earliest elves that were brought here by the Baroukans. In addition to working in the mines, they were used to build fortifications at the Needle, a narrow channel leading to the Sea of Tears. There was a young elven warrior who organized a revolt. Over a thousand elven warriors seized the headlands of a tall cliff and turned the empire's siege engines against the Baroukans. They held the Baroukans off for days without a single casualty. The emperor became enraged, and he rounded up the wives and mothers of the rebellious elves who had been left behind in the Elfwoods. Every day he put some of them on a raft and set it adrift in the Needle. The Baroukans then fired flaming arrows at the raft until it caught fire."

  Tomar's voice started cracking, and Laring placed a comforting hand on his arm. She also had heard the story and tears started to well up in her eyes.

  "Day after day," Tomar continued, "another raft full of wives and daughters was burned below the rebellious elves. Some of the elves broke away from the leader and tried to surrender, but the Baroukans refused to accept their surrender. They stated that as long as a single rebel remained alive, the burning rafts would
continue, and continue they did. Some of the elves threw themselves off the high cliffs, plummeting to their deaths far below. Others tried again to surrender, but the Baroukans remained adamant."

  Tomar paused, unable to continue as his voice ceased to be audible.

  "Eventually all of the rebels jumped to their deaths," stated Laring. "Ever since, the place has become known as Suicide Point. It was the last rebellion of the Dielderal."

  The story made Prince Rigal's blood boil with rage, but he fought to control his emotions. The elven prince understood battle against an enemy and the deaths that came with it, but such a cold-hearted act was beyond his imagination. That single story changed his attitude towards the Dielderal. Ever since his journey through the Junction to the land of the Dielderal, he had held a deep hatred in his heart for the dark elves, but this story spoke of a punishment so severe that it brought tears to his eyes. At that moment, he silently pledged his life to the destruction of the Empire of Barouk.

  Chapter 26

  Torn to Shreds

  The Heart of Elfwoods was more an elven city than a village. Elves returning from captivity usually migrated back to the villages of their parents, but many of those villages were tiny, and finding mates became impossible. So it was that many of the returnees chose to migrate to the Heart, and there they found mates and formed families. Over the years the village expanded until over a quarter of the population of the Elfwoods now lived in the Heart.

  While its population spoke of a city, the Heart still had the nature of a village. There were no shops or tradesmen, and no coinage was necessary. The citizens of the Heart shared everything in a communal way. Hunting parties were formed each morning, and those who stayed behind performed fixing and mending chores or tended the small gardens scattered throughout the Heart. From a distance it seemed quite an idyllic setting, but Rigal had learned much from Tomar during his journey. He now knew of the suffering of the Dielderal and their enslavement to the empire. Instead of seeing an ancient enemy, he saw a kindred people in need of freedom. As the group approached the king's dwelling in the Heart, a young man exited the building. He immediately noticed the newcomers and turned to watch them approach.

  "This is Prince Saratoma," announced Tomar. "He is the grandson of King Elengal. Prince Saratoma, these three have arrived from our ancestral homeland."

  "I am Rigal," smiled the elven prince from Glendor, "and these two are Lyron and Gerant. We are pleased to be welcomed into the Heart."

  "Pleased?" Prince Saratoma replied with a frown. "That is a new one. I cannot remember another who was pleased to be put into slavery."

  Rigal was momentarily at a loss for words, taken aback by the prince's cutting remarks.

  "I don't think Rigal meant it quite that way," Tomar offered softly. "I am sure that they are glad to be among their own kind once again."

  "Your joy will be short lived," Prince Saratoma declared to the newcomers. "Have you just arrived?"

  "We were escorted in this very day," Rigal answered cautiously. He purposely avoided mentioning that Tomar had been the escort, hoping that the prince would assume that he had missed the Baroukans bringing them in.

  "Then you have come to see my grandfather," Prince Saratoma stated. "He is gone from the Heart for a week. Come and I will show you a hut that you may stay in until he returns."

  As Prince Saratoma turned and walked away, Tomar whispered in Prince Rigal's ear, "We must hurry back to my village. The parents truly cannot look after themselves. I am sure that the prince will get you settled in."

  "Thank you for everything, Tomar," Rigal replied. "I hope our paths cross again in the future."

  Tomar and Laring turned around and headed back towards their village. Rigal watched them leave for a moment until he heard Gerant calling him. He turned and ran after Prince Saratoma and his fellow Alceans.

  Prince Saratoma led them to a small hut on the edge of the Heart. It was a simple structure, but it would serve their need for a week.

  "There are some rules that you must be made aware of," Prince Saratoma explained. "Until you are spoken to by King Elengal, none of you are allowed to leave the Heart. That includes hunting in the forest surrounding us. You will be given rations of food during your stay here, and you will be expected to help with the chores other than hunting. There are severe penalties for stealing and fighting. If you have a disagreement with another elf, bring it to the king. He will settle all disputes."

  "We do not seek trouble," promised Rigal.

  "Good," replied Prince Saratoma, "but sometimes trouble will find you anyway. Ignorance of our laws will not excuse your behavior, so learn them well. You are too late for work detail in the Badlands this month, but you will be sent there next month. There you will be under direct supervision of empire soldiers. You will not speak to them without permission, and you will obey their commands without question. Any attempt at escape will be fatal, so do not even think about it."

  The three newcomers nodded silently and dropped their packs to the floor. Prince Saratoma started to leave, but he stopped at the doorway and turned around.

  "While it is too early to apply to you," he said, "there is one other rule. Should you take a wife and conceive a child, that child must be given to the empire for the first twenty years of its life. Keep that in mind should you decide to have a family."

  The last warning came out of the prince's mouth like a snarl, and Rigal saw the prince's body tighten with anger as he spoke. Rigal decided to see how sore a spot that rule was with the prince.

  "That sounds terribly cruel," Rigal responded. "What if the children do not return?"

  "Many of them don't return," scowled the prince, "but that is the most important rule of all. If one of you tries to violate it, expect every other elf to hunt you down. Such a violation will result in the death of ten elven children. Do not even entertain the idea."

  "Has anyone ever tried it?" pressed Rigal.

  Prince Saratoma's hand moved reflexively towards the knife in his belt, but Rigal held his hands up in surrender.

  "I am not thinking of violating any of your laws," explained Rigal, "but I am curious. Many times an opponent's threats are empty."

  "The Empire of Barouk does not issue idle threats," Prince Saratoma replied as his hand moved away from the knife. "In answer to your question, yes, it has been tried. My own father paid with his life for such an attempt as did my great grandfather King Saratoya, for whom I was named."

  "Your father tried to keep you from the empire?" asked Lyron.

  "No," replied Prince Saratoma. "The royal line of the Dielderal are exempt from the rule, but they are expected to enforce it upon the rest of the elves. I was too young at the time, but I understand that my father helped a young couple flee with their child. His life was forfeited because of it. I understand that my grandfather endured something similar when his father died, but he was old enough to have witnessed his father's death. You will find this King Elengal's most strident rule."

  "I am truly sorry," Rigal said sympathetically. "I could never imagine being a king under such circumstances. It must tear his heart apart."

  "I doubt it," sighed Prince Saratoma. "His heart is callous in this matter. I dread the day that I am asked to take his place. I do not think that I can rule as he does."

  Rigal truly felt for the prince. Being a prince himself, he would not wish to trade places for anything. He tried to picture himself enforcing such an edict, but he could not imagine it.

  "Perhaps the Dielderal will earn their freedom from the Baroukans before that happens," suggested Rigal.

  "The only way the Dielderal will ever be free of the empire is the way the dwarves became free of them," scowled the prince.

  "Dwarves?" Rigal asked with curiosity. "I did not know there were dwarves here."

  "There aren't," replied the prince. "There were at one time, but they refused to bend their knees to the emperor. That is why they exist no more. I can't say as I care much about them. They
were our sworn enemies, but the example of their demise is useful."

  "Actually," frowned Rigal, "they were not your enemies at all."

  Prince Saratoma stared at Rigal as if he had said that the sky was green. He shook his head with disbelief, but the newcomer merely smiled back at him.

  "Prince Gordana went in search of the dwarves believing that they had killed his older brother, Prince Geltim," explained Rigal, "but that is not what happened. Both the dwarves and the elves under Prince Geltim stepped through a Junction to another Universe."

  "What are you saying?" the prince shook his head with a refusal to believe what he was hearing. "You are babbling nonsense. The dwarves annihilated Prince Geltim's force. This has been written in history for over a thousand years. You are crazy."

  "Am I?" asked Rigal. "King Elisar gave each of his sons a medallion to wear around his neck. Do you have one?"

  "My grandfather wears the medallion of Prince Gordana," nodded Prince Saratoma. "What does that prove?"

  "If Prince Geltim was destroyed by the dwarves," asked Rigal, "what became of his medallion?"

  "I have no idea," shrugged the prince. "Nor does it matter. You cannot change history."

  "No," agreed Rigal as he fished a medallion from under his tunic, "but I can correct misconceptions of it. This is the medallion of Prince Geltim."

  Prince Saratoma stared at the medallion with disbelief. He reached out and inspected it, but its very presence defied everything he had ever known about his people.

  "It cannot be real," declared the prince.

  "Have you an historian?" asked Rigal. "Bring him here, and I will prove it to him."

  Prince Saratoma remained frozen, staring at the medallion for a few more moments before he let go of it and nodded.

  "I will be right back," he vowed. "Do not leave this hut."

  The prince turned and ran off, leaving the three visitors waiting.

  "Was that wise?" asked Lyron. "The Dielderal are still our enemies. We are supposed to be gaining information from them, not delivering it."