“Hey,” a female Elf hissed to the Humans. “Where’s Clare? Clare! What are your people doing? This is our spot. Max, tell her!”
“Calm down,” Max said. Inside the game in the woods was the only time he’d use his authoritative voice. His calm, cool, boss-like ways made Clare smile. “The Humans and Barbarians will be closer to us all from now on. Their place was mauled.”
The female Elf’s face fell a little. “Aw, sorry. Yeah, Max told us what happened when you all had that last council meeting. What are we going to do?”
Clare surveyed the land quickly. She knew these woods like her own bedroom. “Okay, everyone, please gather around.” All the Clans were there now, including everyone’s least favorite Clan: the Trolls. Troll King Dwyerstoph (no one knew his real name because he insisted on being called that, even in school) was a gangly, but strong type. Clare thought he may have been good-looking at one point, but she had grown to think otherwise now. His clan colored their skin to various earthy colors, wore horns great and small, tusks, and long claws. Dwyerstoph’s horns were long, twisted, and black.
“Ah, Dwyerstoph, I didn’t know your Clan would be joining us today,” Clare said with little effort to hide her distaste.
“I don’t need to join your council to be a part of this game. Sun Age is open to everyone. Those are your words,” he said, stomping his troll staff into the ground for emphasis. All of his troll minions grunted and stomped their staves in agreement.
“You talk about the game at school,” Lance added. “You blow the whole idea of its mystery and secrecy. You can’t be on the council if you don’t abide by the rules.”
The Troll King arched his brow at Lance. “What would your football mates say if they knew you were here with us?” he sneered.
Stella smirked. “For once, your status as school jerk works against you, Dwy. Who would listen to you?”
“Okay, enough,” Alice said, laying her hand on her sword. “Clare, go on. What should we do?”
For a moment, Clare wondered about Lance at school. How could someone like him hide this alternate life from people he spent so much time with? She wondered which life he liked better. Was he close with his team? Would he count her and the others as friends?
“Okay,” Clare sighed, looking around again. “Why don’t the Troll Clan take the bridge area by the creek, err, river. Whatever it is. Is that acceptable?”
“Most acceptable,” Dwyerstoph said. “Trolls like bridges.” He ordered his minion trolls to gather everything up and they all marched down the little river.
“Barbarians,” she said trying to avoid eye-contact with Lance and his muscles. “The caves are close to the Trolls, but can you stand it? If I remember rightly, that used to be your base before we moved you to the ravine.”
“That’ll work,” Alice said. She took her walky-talky and Lance and the Barbarian army moved to the caves not far from the hill.
“Humans,” Clare said. “It sucks, but is the east base of the hill fine with you all? I’d hate to make the Elves move at this point.”
The Humans did grumble a little, but in the end, they agreed. Clare had them pack up their part of the luggage and begin to move it down the hill. She looked back at Stella.
“I guess the Magic Clan is okay where it was near the lake? That’s north of here.”
“Yeah, that’ll be great,” Stella said. “Pretty sure I saw my people setting up on the way in anyway. I should tell them what’s up.”
“I’ll have new copies of the map in just a few minutes,” Jeff said. He had been penciling in the new locations furiously on his blank copy of a hand drawn map of the park he had made as a gift to the Chapter when he was accepted. He had a hand for old-style drawings and he was fast at them. He rushed off to the tech tent to make the copies.
“Alright,” Clare called out so the departing Clans could hear. “You have thirty minutes to settle. Remember, your workers can build while we play.” She took her walky-talky off her belt and said into it, “Stalls, stores, and inns, are you ready?”
“Almost,” came Al’s voice over the device. “One merchant has changed into a healer, if that’s alright.”
“Jeff, you got that?” Clare said into it.
“Uh-hu,” came his hurried reply. “Adding it now. It’s Devin, isn’t it? He said he wanted to be a healer instead.”
“Yup,” Al replied. “Okay, I’m putting the finishing touches on the castle and we’ll be ready to go.”
“Stand by for story time,” Clare said before switching the device off to preserve the batteries.
Exactly thirty minutes later, the sun had reached its peak and had mysteriously cooled down, as if taking pity on the sad LARPers. A few clouds rolled in and a light wind had come in from the west. Jeff’s mom had arrived with a weather radio and first-aid kits for all the stalls. She was a good-natured motherly type who knew not to interfere with the game unless someone shouted fire. She had enough respect to park a mile out, but had brought a mini-trailer with two quads on it in case of an emergency and a satellite phone. She picked up her walky-talky from Clare and departed to hide among the trees, a watching eye in case of trouble.
Clare put her whistle to her lips and blew three blasts to alert the Clans to flip on their walkie-talkies. She signaled Jeff to start.
“Welcome to Sun Age.” He used his deepest and most convincing English accent. “The story is thus: While mining deep in the caves of Sun Age, the Barbarians unearthed the scroll of the Elder Ones. Unable to read it, they have sought out someone who can translate the script. This must be kept a secret for what the scroll contains is an ancient, mystical power unknown to all present Clans. The seal on the scroll appears to be of either Elfin or Magic make, but the script is yet unknown. Some say the scroll leads to a vast treasure, igniting the Trolls’ hunger. All Clans want to claim the scroll for themselves. It must be taken from the Barbarians and translated before more is known. Deciding as the finders of the scroll that it belongs to them, the Barbarians are just as prepared to defend their right to it as the other Clans are to take it.”
Over the walkie, Max’s voice came over, distant, but his words clear, “Eegh, anyone else smell that? The wind reeks!”
“Hey, hold character,” Clare hissed.
Jeff went on.
“The town’s people may know something. In the middle of the wood is the castle of Lord Alfred, heir to the wealth of his father’s land. His family is old and may know something of the scroll. But beware! Sir Alfred does not give out information for free and is a suspicious man. Know also that the Barbarian horde has gained a mighty warrior, a prince of great power. And as always, trust not the magic folk. Neither the Magic Clan nor the Clan of Elves that permeate the forest with their powers and tricks. There was a great victory among the Dark Elves in recent years and they claimed Maximus as their hero and champion.”
The entire Human Clan was listening with rapt attention. Clare smiled up at them.
“And now, Clans of Sun Age,” she said into the device. “Begin!”
All the lights on Jeff’s master sound box went out one by one. The walky-talkies were now to be placed in the Clan’s respective tents and the game had started. The walkies could only be used in an emergency. Everything was done by hand and face now.
Madam Clarissa gathered up a small band of rangers in dark green and brown garb to take with her to scout out the Barbarians. They couldn’t get close, but they saw Lady Alicia outside the caves with another warrior and they were sparring. There was no sign of Prince Lot.
“Perhaps he is already out finding a man who can translate the scroll,” Madam Clarissa said quietly to her companions. “Let us not start a fight so near the camp. Perhaps in town, we may find out more. To the meadow!”
She and her companions were quieter than snakes in the grass as they sprinted away toward the village. They had not gone a few paces when the snuffling and grunting of Trolls could be heard. In the clearing ahead, two Trolls had capture
d a Dark Elf using their magical spells to jam his. They had tied his wrists and were using their evil power to take his magic to empower themselves more. This would only be temporary, but with his magic gone, the Elf could be killed if the Trolls wished it.
“Glutinous power hungry fiends!” one of the Humans hissed under his breath. “I care not for the Elves, but to steal power is darker still than they.”
Clare peeked out again.
One of the Trolls snarled, “Let’s kill him now!”
The other said, “No, we can take him for the sacrifice to Ooglasloh. The gods demand sacrifice!”
The Trolls were about to depart with their living sacrifice when Hero Maximus leapt from the bushes and called out, “You cannot move, Troll fiend!”
He swung his magic staff to protect his back from the magic attack the other Troll was about to cast. The spell backfired from Hero Maximus’ staff and hit the Troll in his face. Both Trolls were stunned on the ground. For a moment, Maximus stood in the sun, his white hair glinting in the glow and his robes settling dramatically around him as he made sure his enemies were not moving. Madame Clarissa smiled at his bravery. She felt as though a magic butterfly had appeared in her stomach from watching him fight.
“Come, my brother,” Hero Maximus said, pulling the other Dark Elf up from the ground. “We must teach you how to block unfriendly spells.”
The Elves departed deeper into the woods, leaving the path to the village open. Madam Clarissa motioned to her companions and they quietly sprinted into the safe boundaries of the village.
“Sometimes I want to know how to steal magic like the Trolls do,” one said as they passed the very few village homes and stalls trading goods.
“What?” Madam Clarissa gasped. “Those animals are evil. And stealing magic is to steal the essence of that creature’s soul. It is a vile thing.”
The Human sighed. “Yes, but think how much stronger we could be with that power!”
“Think not of it,” Clarissa said in a final tone. She walked up to a woman by the stream who was washing her clothes. “Pardon me, good lady,” she said. “I am a ranger from the west and was wondering if you have heard any mutterings of a scroll near this village?”
The woman rung her clothes out and piled them up in a basket. “There have only been mutterings here because Trolls have been seen passing by.”
“They do not come into the village?” Clarissa asked.
“We leave them alone and they do not bother us. However, they have been harassing travelers who use the bridge beyond our borders.”
Set back near the border of the village was Sir Alfred’s castle. In the window, she could see him looking out, staring at her. She flipped her hood up and led her companions back into the shade and protection of the woods. Without knowing it in the front of her mind, Madam Clarissa was searching for someone. She took her companions on tracks that led closer and closer to the Barbarian caves.
The small band was deep into the forest now, close to the west end they could no longer enter. The wind wafted up from the west again. Clarissa took her hair down from its leather ties to let her scalp breath. The heat was managing to slip through the clouds to make an uncomfortable level of warmth and the ground soggy.
“Not a sign of anyone else,” her companion muttered. “We’re far off course by now, my lady.”
“Shh!” she hissed suddenly, swooping her hood back over her hair and crouching down in the foliage. Ahead was movement. Someone was walking with no care, as if they did not fear anything. The clanking of animal bones and teeth reached the Human’s ears. Clarissa pricked her ears up. The boots were treading softly, despite the strong stride. She motioned for her companions to fit arrows to their bows and she did as well with slow, careful movements.
Into the clearing stepped the strong Barbarian figure of Lady Alicia. The rangers hunkered down closer to the bush. Lady Alicia would not be an easy enemy to escape from if they were seen. She was famous in her tribe for being swift, strong, and cunning in close combat. Behind her approached two solemn Barbarians robed in cotton and skins; priests.
“My lady,” one of them said. “The hiding place of the scroll is in danger from the Elves. Their battle with the Trolls has brought them close to it.”
Madame Clarissa grinned over at her companions. They could easily follow the priests back to the scroll. They only had weak magic and the rangers were more than a match for them there. The priests could fight with their short swords, but the rangers could out-maneuver them.
“There is something else, my lady,” the other priest said. He hesitated when Lady Alicia snapped her warning glance in his direction. “The Trolls have surrounded the prince and he is unaware of it as of yet. They will move in at any moment.”
Lady Alicia let out a screech of anger. The sound rang all through the woods.
“To the caves, you fools!” she cried, unsheathing her sword. “Bring me the warriors!”
The Barbarians dashed through the woods, leaping over logs and bramble in their haste. Clarissa stood up only to see Sir Alfred rise a few yards away. He was smirking in triumph as well.
“This is great news for the Humans,” he said to her. He held out his gloved hand to her. The red leather was embroidered in gold and looked expensive. “Come with me and we can take the scroll together.”
Clarissa held her head up just a little higher. “Is there no honor in us Humans? The prince does not deserve to be taken by the Trolls. Perhaps if we rescue him, he may reveal the location of the scroll.”
Sir Alfred’s noble face fell into a sad glare. “No, Madame Clarissa, say it isn’t so. The Magic Folk have been spreading a rumor that the great Clarissa has fallen prey to the Barbarian man’s charms.”
“Heed not the words of Stella at this time!” cried one of the rangers. “Her spirit has not been of good character this last fortnight.”
“Hold your tongue when addressing a lord, rogue!” Sir Alfred snapped back.
“Peace!” Clarissa called. “Sir Alfred, you and the other nobles of your village do as you see best and leave me and my rangers in peace. I agree,” she added when he opened his mouth to speak again, “that as Humans, we must stay together and protect each other. But only when that is needed. Now, depart and leave us to our hunt if you have any nobility and honor left to you.”
With a swish of his gold and red cloak, Sir Alfred departed into the woods, calling for his fellow nobles to follow him to the stream for their attack on the Magic Folk. Clarissa thanked her companion for his aid and they went on into the woods, watching for Barbarians.
They had stopped and rested, climbed a tall oak to see far beyond to the east, and headed on when they were sure of their direction. The wind once again blew and with it came a foul odor. The rangers clapped their hands over their noses and let out groans of disgust.
“Smells like piles of sunbaked road kill,” the ranger gagged.
“Days old too,” Clarissa said. “That must have been the unsavory scent Hero Maximus was speaking of before.”
“Let’s get out of here,” the rangers suggested. Clarissa halted. She turned to the west and dropped her hand. “Come, my lady. Not that way.”
Still she watched. It was as if someone were singing a song to her from that direction or speaking a very special secret just to her. She was being called.
“Don’t you hear that?” she asked her companions. “That calling. Can you feel it?”
Confused, the rangers exchanged glances, not sure how they were supposed to reply.
“The call of a million dead deer,” one said trying to lighten the mood. “Come on, the smell is killing me.”
But Madame Clarissa walked away from them in the opposite direction. Something over there was in trouble and it needed help. Someone was calling her. The feeling in her stomach made her steps quicken and her heart race.
“We have to go!” she called. “They need us!”
Just as she yelled these words back to her rangers
, her foot pushed through the air. The ground had disappeared under her and she pitched forward. She gasped and splatted belly first onto a muddy ravine wall. Throwing her hands out in front of her, she tried to stop slipping down the side, but the force of her dash careened her down the muddy slope. She slipped to the left and right as she sledded down the mud on her front, tearing and ruining her clothes. The end of the ravine was covered in gravel and if she didn’t slow down, it was going to hurt a lot on impact. She managed to pitch herself over onto her back and dug her heels into the ground, coming to a stop that relied entirely on her strength to hold herself on the steep slope.
She coughed and panted, trying to catch her breath after the frightful scare. Her arms and legs trembled as she gasped for air. Her fingers squished into the mud and it was gritty. Looking down, she saw the whole wall was mixed mud and mangled animals. Letting out a terrified and disgusted scream, she tried to crab crawl backward up the slope, but only slipped again. Steadying herself, she looked out over what had once been her kingdom.
The trees were gone, the hills and the creek also. All had been replaced by a massive mud hole. The animals had been killed and replaced with this awful place she had slipped into. It had become some kind of nether world from her distant nightmares. Looking up, the sky had turned to a burnt and blackened red. The sun, setting in the east, was orange and flickering. On the earth beneath her were black oozing masses trudging back and forth. A heartbroken, lifeless moaning sound was coming from them. Dead, burnt black things thrust up out of the swamp. They were once trees. Single raindrops were falling.
Something inside her told her to say the name of her dream-place out loud.
“The Nether,” she said, her lip trembling. “I’ve fallen into the Nether Plane.”
Chapter 4
Zane’barren
Revary Page 4