The Legacy of Tirlannon: The Freedom Fighter

by Daniel Gelinske

  Elefri saluted. “I will relay the order, Captain.”

  He turned about-face and walked toward the cheering sailors on the other side of the vessel. Again, Daende peered through the spyglass, letting his eyes adjust until he could see the perfectly timed flashes from over the horizon dimly blink in the night.

  “Always another obstacle,” he muttered, shaking his head.

  He recalled Ariandi Tuvitor’s final order almost eight years hence; to withdraw the whole of the navy to a single base that neither Madrocea nor Cireth had known—the High Navy base at Lepitua. Never since had he received any message or order from the throne to return to any port in Tarligean. He reflected on the talk of an ambitious campaign to seize Madrocea’s capital by way of the Cassadina badlands. When the time came, an order would come to intercept their naval forces just east of Sumai and destroy them in a surprise attack. The order never came. The great campaign must have failed. But now nearly a decade later, celebrations were erupting in Andriel. The capital was again vibrant with life.

  Daende reasoned that there must be a new Kestiel. He was driven to find out where this fleet was going, and relay that to Andriel at once. He turned toward the forward section of the ship, and quickly strode to the front where the crewmen had gathered. He addressed his crew.

  “It is clear to me that there is likely a new Kestiel on the throne now. Never have we received any order from Ariandi since we were directed into hiding. For almost a decade, Andriel has been abandoned as far as we could see—but tonight; we not only have seen signs of activity, but of celebration! Tarligean lives again, but without any communication to us from Andriel, I must conclude that another heir or appointee has been crowned Kestiel, and the Cassadina campaign was a failure. There are movements in the east of a fleet of Cirethian ships. We do not know where they are going from our observations, as their signal lights are beyond the horizon. Do what you can to build a temporary forward sail. We will need the maneuverability on this journey. With a new Kestiel on the throne, Ariandi’s orders are nullified. We shall return to Andriel the moment we know the Cirethian fleet’s heading,” Daende commanded.

  In disharmonious unison, the crew shouted, “Aye aye!”

  “Ensign Elefri has already given us our heading. Let’s track these thugs. When we know where they are headed, we can go home!” Daende proclaimed.

  * * *

  The redwood-lined walls of the meeting cabin below the deck were illuminated softly by four lanterns lit at each corner. In the center, a round table made of red Autumn Icania sat, surrounded by Captain Daende Linean, and his commanders Ti’rran and Ki’tare.

  Daende unraveled a large map of the northern coastline of Tirlannon and Cireth, and the great sea of Lepitua above it. He had five pins in his hand, two red, two blue, and one black. He stuck a red pin into a grid point on the map.

  “This is our location when we sighted the strobe beacon. The flashes were timed at a rate of exactly once per every nine seconds. That is a signal to any ships within the vicinity of that beacon to gather at that point. Currently, the beacon is stationary. We are waiting for the frequency to increase to once per every six seconds. When that happens, that will mean that their fleet is completed. There will then be a colored flash preceding a series of white flashes. This will signal their heading to the rest of the fleet. It is a spectral circle, with red indicative of a northern heading, teal to the south, yellow-green to the east, and indigo to the west. Their instruments are attuned to these color signals, and will adjust their heading once the colored flashes disappear,” Daende explained.

  He placed a red tack into the map, next to the first. “This is our current location, and our heading is towards…” Daende continued as he placed a black tack in a place on the map just north of the strait dividing Cireth from Tirlannon. “This point, where the beacon seems to be situated.”

  “The signal is stationary now. We should probably return to Andriel the moment the timing signal and the heading signal are noted,” Ti’rran stated.

  “Agreed. Let us keep a safe distance, lest we be detected by the Cirethians,” Daende suggested.

  The lanterns flickered and the ship swayed beneath them momentarily.

  “What was that?” Commander Ki’tare cried.

  Daende pulled himself out of the chair and opened the cabin door wide. “Watchmen, report!”

  Ensign Elefri quickly dashed down the center hall below deck, snapped to attention, and replied, “A shockwave of some sort, hitting us in tandem with a rather large wave.”

  Daende turned, facing the commanders behind him and ordered, “Daylight comes soon. Let’s try and find out their heading.”

  Kolreth, a dark tan-skinned Taergeni of Sylshean descent stood at watch on the forward deck, peering outwards into the black early morning horizon, where signs could already be seen of the impending morning sun.

  Behind them, Captain Linean and the two commanders approached. “The timing just changed, Captain,” Kolreth reported.

  “What is the color of the light now?” Ki’tare queried.

  “Pale blue,” Kolreth responded.

  “They are headed straight down the Destriel Straits then,” Daende discerned. “All hands, set a course to Andriel at once!”

  * * *

  As daylight had begun to dominate the early morning sky, the northern shores of Tarligean became visible. The high Icania trees of Tuitari dominated the coastline. A new sense of hope and resolve had captivated the crew of the Caerthe Kethel as crewmen lined the deck, watching the north coast of Tarligean grow closer.

  A chill crawled up Daende’s spine, as he observed the faces of his crew refreshed with new life, their strength and morale recharged with the knowledge of their nation’s revival. He had difficulty believing he was to dock in Tola’nei Harbor in less than three hours.

  The ship shuddered as something beneath it slammed into the body of the ship abruptly.

  “Bright Rhia’li,” Daende swore, as he clutched the deck of the ship reeling from the impact. He spied a pointed tail sloshing about in the ocean water for a brief moment.

  “Kamanta!” Daende cried.

  The word had struck terror in the hearts of many an elvish mariner, the infamous kamanta of the north seas. The kamanta was akin to a manta, but driven with a malign intelligence, and only marginally smaller than the Kethel.

  Daende summoned his nearest commander with a gesture. Ti’rran responded, jumping down from an observation deck. “We are not going to endure eight years of isolation only to be sunk hours before our homecoming by a kamanta! We are going to slay this beast, and we are going to go home. Gather a team of combat divers, and take this creature down,” he commanded.

  “At once,” Ti’rran acknowledged.

  Within minutes, the Caerthe Kethel was at full stop. Twelve men prepared to dive off the main deck. Brandishing handled iron spears four feet in length with a barbed tip, they leaped into the waters. Kolreth led the strike. The kamanta was obsidian black, and triangular shaped. Its eyes were of a telltale emerald green that shimmered underwater. Kolreth waved forward with his left hand, and swiftly swam toward the beast. The rest of the team followed shortly behind, and to the sides. The kamanta turned, and charged the team. Kolreth signaled to the men at his left to swim a bit closer to the surface, and to the right he signaled to dive deeper and strike from the underside.

  The beast charged between the teams as they split apart. With a spinning, upward lunge Kolreth jabbed the belly of the creature with his spear. Defannan, a crewman from Destriel lunged down, piercing the spine of the beast. The creature seemed incapacitated. The team gathered together just ahead of the creature, and swam upward together to catch breath.

  “We did it,” Defannan said, as he gasped for air.

  The Kethel shuddered, as it was struck viciously from the starboard end, and tilted to its side.

  Kolreth glanced toward Defannan. “No, we didn’t,” he remarked, before submerging again.

&n
bsp; He swam toward the beast, his teammates following his lead. Visibly injured, the creature moved haphazardly in circles, flailing about. With malign fury, it lashed out at the elves and at the vessel. Swiftly, the Taergeni struck along its topside and beneath it, impaling its back, its fin, its head, and its underside with spear. With all his strength, Kolreth came from beneath the giant manta, lunging for its heart. The creature buckled and fought back, knocking Defannan unconscious with a fin as it smashed him against the starboard hull of the Kethel. Kolreth thrust his spear into the creature again, finally piercing its heart. The giant manta went limp, and drifted down into the blackness below. Kolreth signaled, and the combat divers swam back to the surface, except for Defannan.

  Kolreth shouted, “Where is Defannan?”

  Another team member replied, “He was struck by the side of the beast and—“

  Before the diver could finish his sentence, Kolreth dove down. He found Defannan, completely limp, drifting in the water. He grabbed him, swimming back up to the surface. Around Kolreth’s neck, a whistle hung for signaling the ship above that the mission was complete. He blew the whistle.

  The captain and Ti’rran hung over deck, as crewmen tossed weighted ropes with knots at equal intervals for climbing back up to the deck. The combat team scaled the ropes, except for Kolreth and Defannan.

  “I have a casualty in hand. His neck is broken, and he won’t breathe,” Kolreth cried.

  A large rope ladder was thrown overboard for Kolreth to carry the body back onto the Caerthe Kethel. He struggled to bring the body back up on deck. He laid the body flat on its back.

  “Rhia’li honors a hero. Lady Rhia’li of the Stars, to protect the lives of us and our nation, Defannan has given himself to you. Take care of his spirit until it can find its new home.”

  The captain, his commanders, and all the crew bowed their heads.

  * * *

  After somber reflection, the Caerthe Kethel was back in motion. Daende reflected on the day’s reminder that victory is often attained with sacrifice. His thoughts weighed heavily on the Cirethian movements in the east, and he wondered at how much of this his countrymen in Tarligean were aware of.

  The rest of the journey was in mournful silence, having lost a member of the crew who was both a friend and a troublemaker, a boon to the ailing morale of the crew.

  Daende walked alone down the starboard deck, as his crewmen were ensconced in their routine activities. Going home was all they had left now. The sun drifted westward when the final leg of the journey, down the Bay of Nali had begun.

  * * *

  Tola’nei was left relatively unscathed from the years of abandonment before it. When Ariandi Tuvitor had ordered Andriel evacuated, Tola’nei was deserted as well, but it was still maintained by fishermen of Tuitari tribes who had used its harbor on occasion. In another age, it would have just looked like a quiet period in the city.

  The watchtower on the end of Tola’nei was again manned with watchers. Atop a cliff that overlooked the valley upon which the port town was built, the Lighthouse of Tola’nei provided a high vantage point to observe any activity in the bay.

  Jaine Laiqueri was a survivor of Fidralinia who had escaped to the forests of Andule after the city was burned. She sought shelter under the protection of the Tuitari elves. She was young, and had dreams of the ocean, and sailing to exotic and distant places like Lepitua, Silverleaf Island, and Lune. She took the job of watchwoman with great enthusiasm, which dwindled after the first month of her duties, as there was no traffic to the Port of Andriel to monitor until today.

  Staring into the waves with avid boredom, Jaine spotted a glint of silver on the north horizon. She swiftly grabbed her spyglass, and looked closer. A ship was entering the bay. Her heart skipped as she twiddled with the focus. She saw the Ki’ronyx banner mounted atop the center mast.

  “Aredor, come up here!” Jaine cried.

  Aredor was an elder fisherman, a Tuitari native who was well versed in the tales of Tarligean’s mariners of yore. He climbed up the ladder to the observation deck of the tower.

  “What?” He groaned in annoyance.

  “Ki’ronyx on ship entering the bay!” Jaine chirped, as she pushed her spyglass into Aredor’s hands.

  Resigned, Aredor accepted the spyglass and peered out toward the northern bay.

  “Well I’ll be exiled to Verduhn,” he sighed pleasantly. “It’s the Caerthe Kethel. Bright Rhia’li, that’s a welcome sight—but that sail’s going to need some work.”

  * * *

  The sun hung in the sky over the west as the Caerthe Kethel docked in the Harbor of Andriel. Soldiers of the Tuitari Infantry greeted the crewmen of the High Navy as they disembarked. Daende Linean stood over, watching his men as they left the ship. This was going to be their first shore leave in mainland Tarligean in almost a decade. He waited until all hands were off the ship, and then disembarked as well.

  Having heard the news, Kalrys Kretali arrived from the Kestiel’s Palace to greet the Captain. Kalrys and the Captain exchanged salutes.

  “It would appear that you need to be debriefed,” Kalrys greeted the Captain. “Welcome home.”

  “What of the Kestiel?” Daende asked. “Who—and more importantly where is he?”

  “The Kestiel is now Daecrynn Tuvitor, the younger brother to Ariandi,” Kalrys revealed. “You have been away for quite a while. He is in Namakiera making preparations to come home.”

  “What of the war with the Madrocean Empire? What happened?” Daende inquired.

  “We are no longer at war with Madrocea. The new Emperor has not only declared a cease-fire, but has asked for our friendship. A treaty of alliance has been signed.”

  “That may explain the Cirethian fleet moving on Destriel as we speak,” Daende reported. “I hope Tarligean’s armies are ready for another fight.”

  XLII.

  A Brief Respite

  The city of Namakiera was alive and vibrant. Spring had hit Namakiera in full, and the trees that lined Mitheldia Walk were in bloom. White and red blossoms of Terestel and Tansati fruits put color into the vast rebuilding campaign that had begun on the city. Carpenters, architects, and stonemasons were eager to fulfill the role of the Kestiel to build a better Namakiera than the one that stood before the war.

  Incognito, the Kestiel strolled amongst the people in the streets of Namakiera, wearing a plain olive green cloak and black trousers. The cobblestone streets showed little wear from the eras of war and conquest, from the chariots and armies that tread upon them. Daecrynn walked past a familiar locale, the Silver Willow. The windows were boarded up, and the sign reading 'Closed on Order of Governor' in Madrocean and Taergeni was defaced. Beams were bolted over the door, barring entrance. Daecrynn turned, and walked to the Palace Quarter on Mitheldia Walk. A cool, but comforting wind blew, carrying petals from the tree blossoms with it.

  The sound of hammers filled the air. Daecrynn walked to the fountain where Nadali introduced herself to him as Eliana. A sculptor stood in the middle of the fountain, in deep concentration, crafting a new statue to replace the statue of Asutel Thetali that was destroyed long ago by the Madrocean occupation. When it was decided to place a new statue there, when it was suggested the statue be made in Daecrynn's likeness, he had ordered that it be built in the likeness of someone more eternal, preferably the Goddess Rhia'li. As he stared up at the sculptor's work, he smiled, seeing that the sculptor was carefully shaping the clay to a woman's form. Daecrynn walked around the fountain to the gates of the Palace Quarter. The gates were open, and the gatekeeper was dressed in polished ceremonial moonsilver plate mail, carrying a moonsilver tipped spear. His shield was emblazoned with the tri-cross insignia of Taergeni Namakiera. Daecrynn continued up the steps of the palace, where a guard stood in standard field infantry chain mail.

  "Halt! Who wishes to pass into the Palace of Namakiera," he demanded.

  Daecrynn removed his hood and smiled. "It's just me, noble guardsman."

 
; "Milord!" he shouted, snapping to attention.

  Daecrynn winced, and replied, "At ease, soldier."

  Continuing into the palace, he was greeted by Tamaia Folare, the Queen of Namakiera. She was dressed in a long, violet dress. Her hair was long and red, and her eyes a pale blue. "Noble Kestiel, a council awaits your presence," she informed. In a curious tone, she queried, "Some have been wondering, milord. Where have you run off to?"

  "I took a walk," Daecrynn answered. "Which chamber are we meeting in?"

  "The Chamber of Danwe," she replied.

  "A peacetime discussion. This should be exciting," Daecrynn quipped, exchanging smiles with the queen of Namakiera.

  He continued down the hall, and stopped at an ornately carved redwood door. Before he opened the door, he quickly pulled the hair out of his eyes and tied it back behind his head in a ponytail. He opened the door, and took a seat at a round table. Seated were Versinde Ryleas of Tanathiel, the spectacled elf who had passed on the news of Threis' death before the war began, Cerena Charelle, Nadali Murana, and Tiardan Kaewaya. Tamaia opened the door and strode to the table, taking a seat to the left of Daecrynn, as Nadali sat to his right.