by Andrew Day
He looked over at Dhulrael who mouthed, Vharaes.
Serrel glanced back though the peephole, taking another look at the elf who had caused all the death and destruction they’d seen. Then he stepped aside so the others could see.
Dhulrael mouthed, Throne room. The others nodded.
Serrel had one last look, and saw the group below break up. All the other elves went off quickly, leaving Vharaes alone. Vharaes strolled casually across the throne room with his hands behind his back, and disappeared from view.
They shut the peephole and hurried onwards. Up another flight of stairs, and along another passage until Dhulrael stopped them before another blank wall that he quickly he revealed to be another hidden doorway with the aid of his tattoo of office. They pushed through and found themselves in a well furnished bedroom that had recently been ransacked.
Dhulrael sighed. Apparently it was his room.
“Look at this,” he commented sadly at the state of his belongs. “That vase was a present.”
“I’ll buy you a new one,” snapped Caellix. “What’s the quickest way to the throne room?”
“I will show you.”
“Blackwood take point.”
Victor saluted with the knife in his hand, and gently eased the door open. The hallway beyond was empty. He crept out, followed by the others. Dhulrael walked in the middle of their group, between Serrel and Caellix. Annabella took the rear, knives out.
The corridors of the fortress were all but empty. Presumably the rest of Vharaes’ forces had been sent out to fight the Legion, and there was nothing to hinder them. There were a few faint voices echoing from somewhere else in the fortress, but otherwise they saw no one.
They went down several levels, and then crept down one long passage. Victor paused at the end of the passage, as it intersected another corridor, and peered around the corner. And then yanked his head back, throwing up a shield just as a bolt of green energy shot past him.
“Get back!”
Serrel took a couple steps backwards, and turned around in time to see two Ferine heading up the corridor behind them. Caellix and Annabella moved to intercept them. Serrel turned back to help Victor deal with the mage ahead.
The mage came around the corner with another Ferine. The Ferine pounced, and went down with two knives in its chest. The mage was weaving bolts of energy that Serrel blocked with his shield. He fired back, but the mage raised her own shield in time. She glared at him, full of hate.
Serrel saw a glint of metal in Victor’s hand. He lowered his staff and beckoned the mage with one hand.
“Here I am.” He smiled at her for extra effect.
She took the opening and dropped her shield. Before she could get her spell off, Victor hurled his knife into her chest. The mage gave a cry of surprise, and fell backwards. As she died, she finally managed to fire off her spell, but her staff was high, and the energy exploded into the ceiling. With an almighty crash, a large section of the ceiling, and the floor of the room above, came plummeting downwards. Serrel dove out the way as the rubble slammed onto the floor right where he had been standing. When he looked back, the corridor was filled with broken wood and masonry where Caellix, Annabella and Dhulrael had been.
He went to the pile of rubble and tried to find a way past.
“Sergeant! Annabella!”
There was coughing, and someone groaned.
“Keep it down, Hawthorne,” snapped Caellix. Her face appeared in a small gap within the pile and glared at him in annoyance.
“Are you all right?”
“We’re fine. But we aren’t getting through this way.”
“Hold on. I’ll try to move some of this-”
“No,” said Victor shortly, pulling his knives from the Ferine’s body. “No time. We need to go on.”
“He’s right,” said Caellix. “We’ll take another route.”
“Listen,” Dhulrael coughed. “Go left. The throne room is behind the third door on your right.”
“And, Hawthorne?” Caellix added. “Watch yourself. I don’t want to break in another mage. You were hard enough.”
“I will.”
Serrel turned back to Victor who sighed grimly.
“Just you and me,” commented Victor.
“What fun. You have any more of those?” Serrel pointed to Victor’s knives.
“Enough. It only takes one. Let’s go meet Vharaes.”
Victor led the way. They followed Dhulrael’s directions and found the door they needed. It opened up into a short passage that in turn led them into the throne room through a hidden door on one of the long walls.
The throne room was empty. The marble floor was remarkably shiny, reflecting the sunlight that was just clearing the horizon, shining down through several tall windows arranged high on the wall behind the throne. Under any other situation, it might have been amusing to be sneaking into such a place.
Victor pointed across the hall, to another door that was ajar on the opposite wall. Serrel nodded in agreement. That was the direction he had seen Vharaes moving in. They crept across the wide throne room and went through. This led to another short passage, and another partially open doorway.
They quietly peeked through the gap. The room beyond was some sort of war-room, occupied by a wide, round table and a map of the Faelands that adorned one wall. There was a second door on the opposing wall to them. The table was completely covered in papers, books and scrolls. Sorting through it all was a single elf.
He was tall and dark haired, clad in expensive blue and black clothes. A curved sword with a long handle was sheathed at his side. He had his back to them, and was sorting through the mess slowly and casually, as though there were not a war raging a not inconsiderable distance from him. Occasionally he would pick up a page or a scroll, read it briefly, then carefully slide it into a satchel that sat open beside him.
Victor looked back at Serrel. He nodded and mouthed, Stay here.
Serrel wanted to argue, but Victor quickly turned back to his target. He pushed the door open carefully, and slid into the room without a sound, knife in hand. He was pulling his arm backwards, about to throw, when the elf spoke.
“That’s close enough,” he said, not even bothering to look up from his work.
Victor froze, still poised to throw his knife.
“I wouldn’t,” the elf advised. “Let’s continue this like... civilised people, shall we. Your friend can come in. It’s draughty in that corridor.”
Serrel sighed to himself, and pushed through the door. Victor shot him a dirty look, which he ignored.
“Please excuse the mess,” the elf went on. He walked around the table, putting it between them and himself. He didn’t stop his fastidious sorting as he went. “I’ve had a lot to do, and not much time to do it in. And the records in this place are a joke. I swear, ever since they let the Imperials have run of the place, everything’s gone to rack and ruin,” he added in a jovial tone. He flipped quickly through a large and old looking tome, found the entry he wanted and then with a satisfied nod, he ripped out a handful of pages and put them in his bag.
Finally he looked up and smiled. “Sorry, where are my manners? I am Vharaes, Prince of Elsbareth and true heir to the throne. And who might you be?”
Serrel stared, realising he was finally face to face with cause of pretty much every horrible thing he had experienced that week. He found himself surprisingly underwhelmed.
He exchanged a glance with Victor out of the corner of his eye. Victor shrugged.
“I’m Victor, that’s Serrel,” Victor said simply.
“A pleasure,” said Vharaes. “So... have you come to kill me?”
“Yes,” said Victor.
“Not unless you make us,” Serrel put in carefully.
“Probably even if you don’t,” added Victor.
“You aren’t helping.”
“I try to be honest.”
Serrel resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “This doesn’t have to
get ugly,” he told Vharaes, thinking how lame that sounded.
Vharaes just chuckled. “Is the Empress really sending boys to do her dirty work for her now?”
“I’m not a boy,” Victor said calmly.
“Of course you are. A little boy who thinks he can play assassin. I didn’t think anyone would get in this quickly though, so well done. Gold stars all around. Lucky for you two, I don’t kill children. Now, if you don’t mind, I’ll be on my way.” He looped the satchel over his shoulder and smiled at them. “It has been a pleasure.”
This time, Serrel did roll his eyes. “The city is surrounded. The Legion know about all the escape tunnels. You can’t get away. It’s over. Why don’t you just surrender and save us all a lot of trouble?”
“Why?” Vharaes asked in amusement. “Everything is going according to plan. Apart from you two showing up at least. Again, well done. Perhaps there will be medals in it for you. But I don’t think I should stand around waiting for the real soldiers to turn up. Take care now.”
With that Vharaes turned, and walked to the door as if he had not a care in the world.
Victor’s arm came up, it’s movement a blur. Even as he threw the dagger, he was already moving. Running forwards and leaping onto the table.
Vharaes spun and pulled out his sword in a single graceful motion. The sword in his right hand swatted the dagger from the air, as his left hand came around and let loose a stream of ether energy at the two mages.
They threw up their shields without thinking. The blast of energy crackled through the air like lightning, glanced off Victor and cast him aside while he was still in mid air, then struck Serrel straight on.
Vharaes was weaving without a staff, and with incredible skill too. Serrel had proved he was good at magical shields, but the energy pounding into him was nearly overwhelming. It was like trying to hold back the oncoming tide with a buckler. He could feel his boots sliding backwards across the smooth marbled floor from the force of the onslaught. He forced more of his energy into his shield to strengthen it, and managed to slide to a halt.
Victor hit the floor, and rebounded like he was on a spring. He charged at Vharaes, pulling off his sword in mid-stride, and attacked with a flurry of blows.
Vharaes was unfazed. He parried Victor’s attacks with his sword in one hand, and managed to maintain his spell on Serrel with the other. For a few amazing seconds, he held them both off without breaking a sweat, or dropping the smirk from his face. Then Victor found an opening, and cast a plume of fire into his face.
Vharaes dropped the energy stream he was weaving at Serrel, and threw up his own shield in time to stop himself losing his eyebrows. Victor pushed ahead with his sudden advantage and continued his attack.
When the force pushing him backwards suddenly disappeared, Serrel stumbled forwards and almost landed on his face. He managed to regain his balance, and turned the sudden momentum into a charge. He ran into the fray, and when he was sure Victor was clear, he fired a burst of energy at Vharaes.
In one perfect movement Vharaes threw up another shield to block Serrel’s spell, turned aside a blow from Victor’s sword that would have opened his throat, fired a blast of energy at Serrel, ducked another blow from Victor, then launched himself with inhuman agility over the table. He twisted through the air and landed on his feet facing his opponents on the other side of the table.
“This was fun,” he told them sheathing his sword. “Let’s do it again sometime.”
As Victor took a step towards him, Vharaes weaved a spell at the table. Serrel managed to get a look at his palm, and saw Vharaes had a tattoo identical to the one Victor had on his own palm, just before a wave of force lifted the heavy table off the floor and flipped it onto them.
Serrel threw up a powerful shield that caught table just as it was about to hit them, then cast a wave of force that hurled it back towards Vhaeras. Vharaes fired back his own spell at the table, and the force struck it in such a way that it blew violently in half. Chunks of wood and splinters exploded through the room, raining down around them and bouncing off the shield Victor threw up. In the confusion, Vharaes turned and fled through the door from which Serrel and Victor had entered.
Victor wiped blood from a cut to his face. “Come on!” he yelled back at Serrel, not even pausing to see if he was being followed as he charged after the elf. Serrel didn’t even have time to pause for breath as he ran after them.
They pursued Vharaes across the throne room, and saw him disappear through a hidden door located behind the throne itself. Victor kicked the door open and dove through, Serrel right behind him.
They ran through the fortress, guided by the sounds of their target’s footsteps ahead of them. Despite winding corridors, and intersecting paths, Victor managed to stay on on Vharaes’ trail. He was a hunter, locked onto his quarry’s scent, and he wasn’t going to let go. Serrel would have been impressed, if he had even a moment to stop and think. Instead he just ran.
Corridors led to stairs, which led upwards to other corridors, and then more stairs again, until they finally spotted the doorway, Vharaes standing within, silhouetted against bright sunlight. The elf raised his left hand, and suddenly the corridor they were in was filled with fire. Victor pulled up his hood and simply ran straight through it, Serrel following with reluctance behind him, trying to shield them both as best he could.
Victor burst through the doorway at full speed, and came to a halt so suddenly Serrel nearly ran into him.
“Shit, shit, shit!” Victor swore, stumbling off balance. In front of him was a sheer drop straight down.
Serrel grabbed the back of his coat and yanked Victor back to solid ground. Victor took a deep breath. For the first time since Serrel had met him, he appeared pale and unsettled.
“Are you all right?” Serrel asked.
“Yes. I think. Thanks.”
They peered over the edge cautiously. Below them, far, far below them, was the fortress keep. They were currently on the side of the huge tower that jutted from the fortress and into the sky. To their left a narrow staircase wound around the outside of the tower, leading upwards to the roof. There was no guard rail, and on one side of the stairs there was nothing but open air and a long drop to a messy end.
“Let’s go,” Serrel said with very little enthusiasm.
Victor made a face. “This is probably a bad time to mention this, but I really don’t like heights.”
“You? You are afraid of heights?” Despite the situation they were in, Serrel allowed himself a moment of sheer disbelief. “I didn’t think you were afraid of anything.”
“I didn’t say afraid,” Victor clarified forcefully. “I said I didn’t like them. There’s a difference.”
“Of course. Do you need me to hold your hand?”
“Shut up.”
Victor led them upwards, eyes locked steadfastly ahead, his shoulder pressed against the solid stone wall on his left. Serrel would have found the whole thing immensely funny under normal circumstances.
The roof of the tower was completely flat, designed for whatever it was that elves liked to do high up in the sky. There were again no barricades to prevent anyone from plummeting to their death due to any unforeseen incidents that might take place. Like a sword fight/magical duel with a deranged elven warlord. Serrel considered that extremely sloppy planning.
When they stepped onto the roof, Vharaes was standing in the center, eyes searching the brightening sky frantically. He spun in quick circles, but couldn’t find whatever it was he was looking for.
Finally he turned and faced them, exhaling sharply through his nose in irritation.
“Honestly,” he said in disappointment. “You can’t rely on anyone these days.”
“Pick better friends,” Victor replied. He and Serrel split up and began to circle around the elf from opposite sides.
“I don’t suppose we could hold this off for, say, another five minutes or so?” Vharaes asked hopefully.
Victor spun
the sword in his hand meaningfully.
“I guess not,” Vharaes sighed, and looked at them with seriousness this time. “It doesn’t have to be like this.”
“Give up then,” Serrel told him.
“I’m sure that will turn out so well for me. You have no idea what you’ve walked into. I won’t even make it to trial. I will executed as an example, just for trying to reclaim my home. So, thank you, but no. I would rather die free.”
“How is anything that has happened, any of it at all, worth dying for?”
“You wouldn’t understand. It is the difference between falling, or choosing to leap. It is about even having the choice. Look,” he tried another tact. “You’ve won. My forces are destroyed, and my grand evil scheme undone. What difference does it make if you have me or not?”
“A big one,” said Victor. “It’s the difference between a lot of people living, and a lot of people dying.”
“So... you’re going to kill me, to save everyone else?” Vharaes mulled that over. “Funny, but when I do that, I get called a criminal. Do you two idiots even know what any of this was about? Why I had to do all the things that I’ve done? Do you even care?”
“No,” said Victor flatly.
“So many people have died,” said Serrel. “Good people. Because of you. And if we let you go, even more will more will die. I don’t want that on my hands.”
“Your Empire took my home. Took my lands. You’re slowly but surely destroying my people. You are the invaders here. You are the criminals. I’m merely fighting for what’s mine.”
“Listen,” said Victor, and now there was a clear hint of annoyance in his voice. “I’m tired. You’ve tried to set me on fire and made me climb the world’s dumbest stairway. I am not in a happy place right now. And even if I was, I still wouldn’t give a damn about your reasons. They don’t matter. The bodies being piled up on either side, that matters. So you can either surrender to us right now, or you can die right now. Either way, just shut the hell up.”
The elf rolled his eyes. “Fine. Be like that.”