Elvangar

by Richard S. Tuttle

  “Continue as you have been doing,” Eltor urged Mistake. “You have kept us safe so far. I have faith in you.”

  Mistake smiled at Eltor and then stuck her head around the corner. She held up one finger and then dashed across the intersection. When the rest of the elves had joined her, Mistake ran along the narrow street to the next intersection. She smiled when she did not see any hellsouls.

  “Finally,” she grinned. “This avenue is clear. We are going to turn to the left and travel as a group. Keep to the sides of the street.”

  Mistake stepped around the corner and led the group along the avenue. They had progressed six blocks before Caldal halted suddenly in the center of the intersection.

  “What are you doing?” Eltor whispered loudly to his friend. “Get out of the street.”

  Caldal pointed towards the right excitedly and then ran to catch up to Eltor.

  “They have ships,” Caldal reported with enthusiasm. “I saw the masts when we crossed that last street.”

  “So they have ships?” replied Eltor. “What of it?”

  “I saw the masts,” Caldal said excitedly. “The wood should have decayed ages ago if this was really a closed city. I think we are being tricked.”

  “Everything in Angragar is preserved,” Mistake declared. “Nothing has changed since the closing of the gates. There was not even dust in the temple when I was there.”

  “That is impossible,” scowled Caldal. “No wooden ship can last for thousands of years. It is just not possible. I want to investigate those ships.”

  “Caldal,” scolded MistyTrail, “will you stop acting like the humans are trying to trick you? You are beginning to make no sense with your ramblings.”

  “If we show you the ships,” posed Mistake, “will you finally believe all that we have been saying? I am willing to detour if it will end this nonsense.”

  “If you can prove that they are thousands of years old,” Caldal promised with skepticism, “I will finally believe you.”

  “Then it is worth the detour,” sighed Eltor. “I, too, am growing tired of this conversation.”

  Caldal frowned at his friend, but Mistake merely nodded and retreated to the last intersection. She turned towards the distant masts. There did not appear to be any hellsouls in this section of the city and the run to the harbor was quickly accomplished. When they finally arrived, the elves stood in shock.

  The harbor area was fairly open, with a wide wharf running for many blocks. All sorts of ships were docked, their lines as solid as new. Several more ships were anchored offshore.

  “You cannot tell me that this is thousands of years old,” Caldal said triumphantly. “Even the dock lines look new.”

  Eltor tapped his friend on the shoulder and pointed towards the mouth of the harbor.

  “Look quickly before the light fades entirely,” Eltor said. “You can see a swath of jungle blocking the exit to the harbor. Just where do you suppose these ships sail to?”

  Caldal followed Eltor’s gaze and saw the jungle stretch across the water. The harbor was a harbor no longer. It was but a lake. Caldal sighed with resignation and hung his head in defeat. The elves walked slowly along the wharf, staring at the ancient vessels. Suddenly, Eltor stopped and stared at two particular ships.

  “Look at this, Caldal,” he said excitedly. “This is a perfect specimen of an ancient elven trading ship. I have seen drawings of such a vessel.”

  “So have I,” Caldal admitted with awe, “and the smaller one is obviously elven as well.”

  “Yes,” nodded Eltor. “It was used either for couriers or scouts. I would love to sail such a vessel. Could you imagine actually sailing in that?”

  Caldal just smiled and nodded enthusiastically.

  “I am uncomfortable standing in the open like this,” frowned MistyTrail. “Have we seen enough of the harbor now?”

  Mistake looked questioningly at Eltor and Caldal.

  “Yes,” replied Caldal. “I am sorry for my attitude earlier. I just could not imagine such a sight as we have seen. It is a miracle to have a city preserved in this fashion. Let’s go to the temple. I really do want to read about the truth of our relations with humans.”

  MistyTrail smiled at Caldal as Mistake led the group off the wharf and onto a narrow street heading towards the city center. Night claimed the sky as the small group made their way towards the temple. Mistake slowed down considerably because she could not see well enough to determine where the hellsouls were. She could hear distant shrieks, but she could not actually see anything. Suddenly, she stopped short. The rest of the group tensed and drew their swords.

  “What is it?” whispered MistyTrail. “Do you see one? Where is it?”

  “No,” Mistake whispered back. “I just realized the error of my ways. Emperor Marak will have the door to the temple barricaded to stop the hellsouls from getting in. We will have to bang loudly on the doors with our backs open to the entire plaza. That would be suicide.”

  “There is only one door?” gulped Eltor. “What are we to do now?”

  “I don’t know,” admitted Mistake. “I should have thought about this sooner.”

  “Are we close to the temple?” asked MistyTrail.

  “I think so,” nodded mistake, “But I am not sure. I believe the shrieking is probably coming for the plaza. If we are not close, we will be soon. What are you thinking?”

  “An air tunnel,” suggested MistyTrail. “If there is enough of a gap in the door, or if there are windows, we can get a message inside. They can open the doors for us.”

  “There are balconies,” Mistake said with a glimmer of hope. “Rejji and I stood on one and watched the hellsouls. The Torak just might post a sentry there during the night. It is worth a try.”

  Mistake led the group towards the sounds of shrieking. The noise was constant and growing louder with each step. It began to grate on the nerves of the elves. Suddenly, a hellsoul leaped from a doorway as the group was passing. Mistake had already passed by, so the creature swung at closest person. The sword struck Eltor’s shoulder, and the elf leaped away. Caldal and MistyTrail gasped in horror as they brought their swords up. The hellsoul attacked quickly.

  The creature swung its sword at Caldal, hitting the elf’s blade. Caldal tried to push the hellsoul backward as the blades clashed. The hellsoul turned its blade and ran it down along the elf’s sword. He nicked Caldal’s hand with his blade, causing the elf to drop his sword. Caldal dove away from the creature in a roll and came up on his feet several paces away. MistyTrail and Mistake both threw knives at the creature. Both knives struck killing blows and the hellsoul fell to the pavement, its sword clattering loudly on the street. Eltor raced to the body and decapitated it. It disappeared in a puff of smoke. Caldal walked over and picked up his sword. Mistake swallowed hard and stared at the wounded elf.

  “It is nothing,” braved Caldal. “Just a scratch. Maybe we should not hug the buildings so much.”

  Mistake nodded silently and moved away from the buildings as she led the group forward. She said nothing about the incident. MistyTrail sensed a problem. She moved forward until she was right behind Mistake.

  “What is the matter?” she whispered.

  Mistake did not answer. MistyTrail moved alongside her sister and repeated the question.

  “Hellsoul blades are poisoned,” Mistake whispered. “Caldal will die if we don’t get him to a healer. Is there anything that you can do?”

  “I can heal wounds,” offered MistyTrail, “but I know little about poisons. If I heal his wound, won’t the poison be sealed inside of him?”

  “I know less about healing than you do,” frowned Mistake. “We need to get him to the temple. We have no time to waste.”

  Several blocks later, Mistake halted again. The elves gathered around to find out why they were stopping. The shrieking was quite loud and moving figures could be barely seen in the distance, although it was too far to identify them.

  “I think that is the ba
ck of the temple,” Mistake declared as she pointed to a tall building a block away. At least it looks like it, and the figures moving in the distance are probably in the plaza beyond the temple.”

  “Let me try an air tunnel,” offered MistyTrail. “There is something that might be a window a story above the ground.”

  “It looks like a balcony,” offered Eltor. “Didn’t you say that you stood on a balcony?”

  “I did,” nodded Mistake, “but that was in the front of the temple. I think you are right though. It does look like a balcony. Try it, MistyTrail.”

  While the other three stood guard with their swords drawn, MistyTrail wove an air tunnel. She aimed for the balcony and was able to extend the air tunnel into the building, but not very far.

  “It is blocked,” frowned MistyTrail. “If there is anyone there, they have not answered me.”

  “What now?” asked Eltor. “Do we really pick a building and bed down for the night? We can join up with the others in the morning.”

  “No,” Mistake said worriedly. “We have no time to lose. We must do something now.”

  Eltor and Caldal looked at Mistake questioningly. She appeared to be very nervous, and neither of them had expected that.

  “What?” asked Caldal. “What are you not telling us? Are the hellsouls going to come looking for us?”

  Mistake did not reply. She turned from the elves and stared at the moving shapes barely visible blocks away. MistyTrail sighed and grabbed Caldal’s uninjured hand.

  “You wound must be treated right away,” MistyTrail said to Caldal.

  Mistake turned and glared at MistyTrail. “Why are you telling him? Isn’t it bad enough being surrounded by hellsouls? Now you have to tell him this?”

  “It is only a scratch,” protested Caldal. “It does not even hurt.”

  “The blade was poisoned,” explained MistyTrail. “I cannot deceive you, Caldal. You will die if we don’t get help immediately.”

  “I will go to the front of the temple,” volunteered Eltor. “I will bang on the door and let them know that we need help.”

  “No,” Mistake said a little too loudly. “You will die if you do that. This is why I did not want to mention it. Both of you will now offer to throw your lives away so gallantly. Just stop and think. We will find a way out of this without any heroics.”

  “I have an idea,” MistyTrail said excitedly.

  “What is it?” Mistake asked quickly, welcoming the change in topic.

  “We may not be able to get an air tunnel into the temple,” MistyTrail explained, “but there are many other places where we can reach with air tunnels. Between us, we know practically every place that Marak or Lyra would attempt to communicate with. We can notify all of them of our plight. If either the Torak or the Star attempts to communicate with anyone, they will learn of our location and situation.”

  “I like it,” grinned Mistake. “I will start with the Qubari village, Khadoratung, Fardale, and Ghala.”

  “I will begin with StarCity and Alamar,” nodded Mistake. “Be quick about it as they may only communicate once this night.”

  * * *

  The Torak, the Star, and the Astor stood before the large mural in the temple in Angragar. Lyra stood staring at her likeness with disbelief. Marak stood to one side, slightly amused, and Rejji shook his head in wonder.

  “I swear that the sword was not there before,” Rejji said. “I paid more attention to the Torak and myself, but I am positive that the Star held no weapon.”

  “Well she certainly does now,” smiled Emperor Marak. “It looks like a fine rapier, too. I wonder if it will found here in Angragar.”

  “Do you have any skill with a sword?” Rejji asked the Star of Sakova.

  “Some,” Lyra answered without taking her eyes from the painting. “I used to practice swordplay with the students at the academy. My father, of course, strictly forbade it, but I was a fair hand at it. I gave Syman and Antello a good fight. Still, I am not in the same company with Sakovan warriors. If we find it, I will have to practice.”

  “We will find it,” smiled the Torak.

  “You seem to be enjoying this,” Rejji said to Marak. “What is so funny?”

  “We are three individuals who do not take well to taking orders from others,” chuckled the Emperor, “yet here we are dancing to Kaltara’s tune, and quite willingly I might add. He does not tell us what to do on a daily basis, yet he guides our every step. Do you not find that amusing?”

  “I have not really thought about,” admitted Rejji. “Are you saying that we are puppets?”

  “Not at all,” clarified the Torak. “Just the opposite, actually. We are strongly independent. In fact, I think we may be causing Kaltara to constantly revise his plans because we do not act as we are expected to. I have no doubt that your recollection of the painting is the same as mine. Lyra held no sword in the painting before this day.”

  “But you did have the Sword of Torak,” responded Rejji.

  “I already possessed it,” nodded Marak. “In the painting you held the staff, which you left Angragar with. Now Lyra holds a fine rapier, which I guarantee she will actually hold before she leaves this city. In a way, the mural is prophetic. I would not be surprised to see it change again in the future.”

  “Where will I find this rapier?” asked Lyra. “And what am I supposed to do with it?”

  “I suspect that it will have the capability to vanquish hellsouls,” answered the Torak. “What else it might do is a mystery to me.”

  “We will look for it in the king’s treasure room,” stated Rejji. “If it is not there, we will search the entire city.”

  “After we vanquish the hellsouls,” interjected the Torak. “It is too late to search the city tonight, and in the morning the army will arrive. After that we will search until we find it.”

  “What is the plan for the morning?” asked the Star of Sakova.

  “At dawn some of us will depart from the temple,” answered Emperor Marak. “Specifically, the three of us must be among those to leave. I think we should bring the mages along as well.”

  “And not the warriors?” asked Rejji.

  “No,” replied Marak. “They will just get in the way. I think we saw today that the light blade, properly aimed, is a devastating weapon against the hellsouls. That is why the mages must join us. They will protect us while the army advances against the enemy’s rear.”

  “That sounds dangerous,” Lyra commented. “I am not so concerned about myself, as I have Kaltara’s cylinder to protect me, but the others do not.”

  “It is dangerous,” nodded the Torak. “Just getting to the center of the plaza may be dangerous as well. We will discuss it in detail later. Let’s grab a bite to eat while the food is warm.”

  The Three turned and left the room. Lyra turned and stared one last time at the prophetic mural as they left. They walked back to the entry foyer where the rest of the group were having a warm meal cooked by Mobi.

  “This is great,” commented Wyant. “I can’t recall ever tasting anything like this. What is it?”

  “Monkey,” smiled Mobi. “I am glad that you are enjoying it. The taste is mostly attributable to the herbs and spices that are used. You are probably not familiar with most of them. They grow only in the jungle.”

  DarkBlade’s eyebrows rose, but he did not say a word. Mobi looked up and saw the others had returned from viewing the mural.

  “Did you notice the change?” asked the Qubari warrior.

  “We did,” nodded Lyra. “We will search for the rapier when the hellsouls are vanquished. May I have some of the monkey?”

  Mobi grinned and readied a portion for the Star of Sakova. He watched her expression closely as she sampled it. He smiled when he saw her nod of acceptance. Gunta came down the stairs and sat near the fire. He helped himself to a portion of the meal.

  “What is happening out there?” asked Emperor Marak.

  “There are thousands of them,” frowned G
unta. “Much more than the last time we were here.”

  “They sense that the battle for Angragar is upon them,” responded the Torak. “They will all gather to defeat us. I worry for the Qubari army. It will be hard to defeat the hellsouls without some casualties. It is a shame to die to something that is already dead.”

  “Do not worry for the Qubari,” offered Mobi. “We are reclaiming Angragar. We could perform no finer service for Kaltara. Those that die tomorrow will be honored for ages to come.”

  Rejji frowned at Mobi’s words and sampled the food. He also sat on the floor and urged the Torak to eat. Marak nodded and helped himself to some food. He stood as he ate, staring at the closed doors of the temple

  “If you are planning on contacting your home tonight,” Lyra prompted, “you should do so soon. After the meal we are retiring to the library to begin our search for information. You know that we will be there until morning. LunarSigh or I would be happy to weave an air tunnel for you.”

  “A good thought,” nodded the Torak, “but I communicated previously today. Thank you for the offer.”

  Lyra’s face was puzzled at Marak’s answer. He had not asked her to create an air tunnel, and he had brought no Khadoran mage with him. She wondered if Mistake or MistyTrail had helped him.

  “Was there any pressing news?” asked the Star of Sakova.

  “The murders continue,” frowned Emperor Marak. “The hellsouls have been found in every major city of Khadora, and some of the more remote areas as well. Less of them are escaping now that we know how to vanquish them, but their very presence terrorizes the populace. I must begin thinking about returning to Khadora to address the problems before the lords decide to keep their armies home to protect themselves. I must succeed in training all of them.”

  “Cannot the Lords’ Council take care of that?” asked Lyra.

  “There are good men on the Lords’ Council,” replied the Torak, “but they do not get the attention of the lords the way that the Emperor does. It will take pressure from me to get some of the lords to comply, but I am determined to do exactly that. It will get done. Shall we go to the library now and see what awaits us there?”