Emerald of the Elves

by Richard S. Tuttle

  “Goblins,” answered Wylan. “They are planning to attack you. I need something shiny to signal to Master Khatama that you are safe.”

  Natia frowned, but she handed Wylan a mirror from her pouch. Wylan looked up at the sun and then towards the mountains. He scanned the mountainside until he saw what he thought was the ledge he had been standing on. He held the mirror up and moved it back and forth until it shined in the direction he wanted.

  “How do you know about the goblins?” Adan asked impatiently.

  “We saw their scouts from a ledge high on the mountainside,” replied Wylan. “Let’s keep moving, and I will explain what I know. It is not safe to dally here.”

  Adan signaled for the gypsies to continue forward. “Talk quickly, lad,” he urged. “I am responsible for the safety of my people.”

  “Master Khatama knew you were coming this way,” Wylan said to Tedi. “We left the elf village early this morning and went through the mountain to a ledge where the dwarves said we could look for you.”

  “Wait a minute,” scowled Adan. “Elves? Dwarves? Is this some type of story that you are spinning? Tedi, is this Wylan reliable?”

  “He is, Adan,” nodded Tedi. “Let him finish.”

  “I am telling the truth,” promised Wylan. “The elves and the dwarves are friendly. In fact, this is a dwarf horse. They lent it to me so that I could warn you about the goblins. The dwarves are readying their army to help you battle the goblins. We should hurry as fast as your wagons can go.”

  Adan looked behind him until he spied Mandal. He waved to the gypsy to come forward, and Mandal immediately complied.

  “Mandal,” commanded the king of the gypsies, “I want you to ride hard along this trail until you reach the base of the mountain. See if there are any dwarves there and determine if they are friendly. Go swiftly my brother.”

  “Wait,” Wylan said hurriedly. “You will not find the mine entrance without me. I will lead you.”

  Mandal looked to Adan for direction, and the king of the gypsies nodded. Wylan and Mandal took off at a gallop.

  “How sure are you of this Wylan?” Adan asked Tedi.

  “Very sure,” declared Tedi. “I believe what he says. Plus if you look closely at the mountainside, you will see people up there watching us. The one in the center is Master Khatama. I think we should get these wagons rumbling along this trail because we are going to be attacked by goblins.”

  Just as Adan was staring at the figures up on the mountainside, one of them raised his arms, and a streak of lightning flashed to the ground some distance to his left. He heard guttural screams in the distance and looked up at the ledge on the mountainside again.

  “Is this Master Khatama a mage?” asked Adan.

  “Yes,” answered Tedi. “He is the one who gave me the staff that I carry.”

  “Riders to the sides,” shouted Adan. “Let the wagons through, and be quick about it. Move as if your lives depended upon your speed.”

  Adan, Tedi and Natia moved to the side of the trail with the rest of the riders. The wagons started rolling past, and Adan waved them on furiously, shouting and yelling for them to move faster. Wylan and Mandal returned while the wagons were still flowing past.

  “There are dwarves up ahead ready for battle,” confirmed Mandal. “It is not us that they seek to harm. They have opened their mine to our wagons and herd. We can pass straight through the heart of the mountains to the other side and make camp there.”

  “Take Hortice with you, and lead the wagons through the mine,” commanded Adan. “Set up defenses for the camp on the other side. We cannot be sure if the goblins will come over the mountains after us. Be swift, brother.”

  Mandal nodded and whistled for Hortice. The two gypsies wheeled and galloped alongside the wagons.

  “He said the wagons and the herd,” commented Natia as more bolts of lightning split the air. “He said nothing about our riders.”

  “The dwarves do not know you,” responded Wylan. “For their own safety they want your innocents to go through first.”

  “So that they have captives if we decide to attack them inside their mine,” frowned Adan. “Fair enough. I would do likewise in their position. If they allow our families to get to safety, I have no arguments with them.”

  The last of the wagons passed by, and Adan ordered the herd handlers to follow right behind them.

  “How far is this mine entrance?” Adan asked Wylan as the lightning got progressively closer.

  “A few minutes gallop,” replied Wylan.

  Adan looked back at the huge herd of horses being driven by. “If the lightning strikes are an indication of where the goblins are,” frowned Adan, “we are in for a battle real soon. We don’t have a few minutes.”

  “We could start riding through the woods,” suggested Tedi. “We won’t make good time, but neither will we be just sitting here.”

  “I probably should have sacrificed the herd and gotten the riders into the mine,” scowled Adan, “but I think like a gypsy. Let’s ride through the woods.”

  Adan signaled the riders of his intentions, and then moved cautiously into the woods. The lightning strikes were getting uncomfortably close, and Adan caught his first glimpse of the goblins as bodies were tossed into the air from the lightning. A few minutes later, Adan saw the last of the herd pass by. He shouted for the riders to return to the trail.

  The gypsy riders hit the trail and galloped after the herd. The guttural shouts of the goblins could be easily heard now, and Adan kept looking over his shoulder. He slowed down a bit and urged the stragglers to catch up. In the distance he saw goblins piling onto the trail and running after the riders. As he watched, a bolt of lightning streaked down from the sky and landed in the center of the trail. Goblin bodies flew into the sky, but others quickly replaced them. As the last rider neared, Adan urged his horse onward and raced towards the mountains.

  As Adan rounded a bend in the trail, he saw his gypsy riders in the mouth of a canyon. They had dismounted and had their bows ready. Adan rode past them and dismounted himself. He looked up to his right and saw dwarf archers above him. He grabbed his bow and made himself ready for battle.

  As the first band of goblins rounded the bend, a hail of arrows sliced into them. The lightning strikes continued, but they were no longer getting closer. The goblins kept coming and the archers kept firing. Within moments, there was a heap of bodies at the bend in the trail. The goblins stopped coming around the bend, and Adan heard shouts of cheering coming from the dwarves up on the ledge. He turned and found Natia and Tedi not far away. He walked over to them, and saw a dwarf standing next to them.

  “This is Adan, king of the gypsies,” declared Tedi.

  “Welcome to Dorgun,” grinned the dwarf. “A friend of Garala is a friend of the dwarves.”

  “Who?” asked Adan with a puzzled look.

  “You know him as Arik,” smiled the dwarf. “To us, he is known as Garala, the prophesized one.”

  “Thank you for helping my people survive the attack,” smiled Adan. “Our losses would have been great without the assistance of the dwarves.”

  “It is always a pleasure to a dwarf to join in battle against goblins,” grinned the dwarf. “Your people can pass through the mine now. The way has been marked so that you will not get lost.”

  “Are you sure that the goblins will not attack again?” asked Adan. “My people stand ready to help you defend your homeland.”

  “Your offer is well accepted,” stated the dwarf, “but even the goblins have more sense than to attack dwarves in their mine. They are scurrying back to their holes as we speak. There will be no further battle today.”

  “Then we shall move through to the other side of the mountains,” nodded the king of the gypsies.

  “Lead your people into this canyon and turn to the left at the second opportunity,” instructed the dwarf. “There is an entrance to the mine at the end of that small canyon.”

  Adan nodded and gave th
e order to mount up. Adan led his people into the mine of Dorgun. The tunnels were dark, but torches marked the way. He noticed that each intersection was blocked off with carts, clearly marking the route he was supposed to take. By the time they emerged out of the other side of the mountain, the sun was going down. Adan immediately split off from the group of riders and sought out Mandal. He spent an hour going over the defensive precautions of the campsite and then moved to the central campfire. Several new faces had joined the group and were talking to Tedi. He walked over to meet them. Tedi introduced the Rangers to the gypsies. After the introduction, Boris pulled Adan aside.

  “Was the lightning today your work, Master Khatama?” asked Adan before Master Khatama had the chance to speak.

  “Some of it,” Boris nodded. “Fredrik also has the gift.”

  “Well it certainly was impressive,” responded Adan. “I am sure it saved many gypsy lives today. We are very grateful.”

  “I am pleased to hear that,” grinned Boris. “I see that you have many spare horses. I know an army who needs them desperately.”

  “I would be pleased to sell them to this army of yours,” grinned the king of the gypsies. “Can you negotiate the price for them?”

  “I was thinking more along the lines of a gift,” smiled Boris. “Gold is scarce when you must feed tens of thousands of people.”

  “But you are talking to a gypsy,” laughed Adan. “Surely, you must know us better than that. Where are these horses needed?”

  “In Southland,” stated Boris.

  “Southland?” echoed Adan. “That is much too far for us to drive the herd. Sorry, but even a good price would not persuade me to drive them that far.”

  “It is not out of your way,” insisted Boris. “After all, you will be going there anyway to deliver weapons and armor from the dwarves.”

  “You are in the wrong trade,” Adan laughed heartily. “A bard could not get as many laughs as you are getting. You obviously have never dealt with gypsies.”

  “Actually,” smiled Boris, “I have high regard for the gypsies. One of the finest men that I ever met was a gypsy. I told him a tale many years ago. A tale he promised to pass on to his people. I am disappointed that he did not do so.”

  “You can never be sure what a gypsy might do,” Adan smiled mischievously. “Who was this fine gypsy?”

  “His name was Ora,” declared Master Khatama.

  The color drained out of Adan’s face, and his laugh died in his throat. His eyes grew wide as he stared at Master Khatama.

  “What was the story about?” Adan asked apprehensively.

  “It was about the sky above,” replied Boris. “It was a tale of the future, and how the gypsy people should prepare for it. It was the prophecy of the coming king.”

  “Blessed colt!” exclaimed Adan as he fell to his knees. “You are the Mage?”

  “It is not me that you must kneel before,” Boris said softly as he guided Adan to his feet. “Your loyalty is due to Prince Arik of Alcea, and it is he who needs the horses and the armor.”

  “In the name of my father and his brother, Ora,” swore the king of the gypsies, “Prince Arik shall have whatever the gypsies have. We shall leave for Southland as soon as the dwarf shipment is ready.”

  Chapter 6

  Queen’s Birthday

  Oscar Dalek and Queen Marta stood in the King’s Chamber in the Royal Palace of Tagaret. They listened intently as Sheri gave her weekly report about the food distribution.

  “While the people are finally able to eat,” offered Sheri, “there is still need for more food.”

  “There are more wagons on the way,” responded Oscar, “but food is at a premium everywhere. I am having trouble finding a source where I can buy it.”

  “Then we must encourage its growth right here in Tagaret,” decided the queen.

  “The soil in the gardening areas is fairly poor,” sighed Oscar. “I do not think we can increase the yield significantly.”

  “You own many shipping companies, my son,” smiled Queen Marta. “If you cannot find enough food to keep your wagons full, then fill those wagons with the best soil you can find.”

  “And people wonder where I got my strange ideas from,” chuckled Oscar. “That is an excellent plan, Mother. I shall work on it immediately.”

  “How about the trade shops, Sheri?” asked Queen Marta. “Are the children able to handle most of the tasks?”

  “Most,” Sheri reported honestly. “At least they are able to allow the master craftsmen to concentrate on their trades instead of minor things. We keep the forges stoked and the ovens burning. Supplies are almost always on time so the craftsmen never have to stop because of shortages. The few times we have messed up are being addressed. I do not think we will have any more problems in that area.”

  “I have heard many good reports about the children,” nodded Oscar. “The citizens are impressed with their organization and their capabilities. You should be proud.”

  “They are hard workers,” smiled Sheri. “They know what is coming and are thankful for the chance to help.”

  “Thank you, Sheri,” smiled Queen Marta. “Your organization has truly made a difference to the citizens of Tagaret. We shall meet again next week.”

  “It is a pleasure to serve you, Your Highness,” curtsied Sheri.

  “Would you look in on Darin and Daevo before your leave?” requested the queen.

  Sheri smiled and nodded as she turned to leave the King’s Chamber in the Royal Palace of Tagaret. As she left the room, Zackary Nolan entered and closed the door.

  “Was the mission successful?” asked Oscar Dalek.

  “Your Highness,” Zack bowed to the queen before answering Oscar. “The mission was a success. The gold was quite plentiful and has been transferred to the palace treasury. I assume that they could not find a way to get it out of the city safely. Twelve of Sarac’s minions died in the raid.”

  “How are we ever going to rid Tagaret of Sarac’s people?” sighed Queen Marta. “They are everywhere.”

  “And nowhere,” nodded Zack.

  “We must rid the city of these vermin before Prince Arik returns to the city,” frowned Oscar. “If they succeed in killing him, the Dark One will reign forever.”

  “That is why I am here,” Queen Marta smiled thinly. “We shall give Prince Arik the chance to succeed by ridding the city of Sarac’s men. You have done well, Zackary. See how many more you can find. Our time is getting short.”

  “I shall do my best, Your Highness,” bowed Zackary.

  “Would you have General Gregor come by?” requested Oscar as he turned and walked to a large wall map at the back of the room. “I want to discuss the situation of the Army of the West with him.”

  “I shall do so promptly,” nodded Zackary.

  “And have the Red Swords hold off any other visitors until he is done with us,” added the queen.

  “So it shall be,” nodded Zackary as he turned and left the room.

  As Zackary Nolan closed the door to the King’s Chamber, he noticed a group approaching the room.

  “There are to be no visitors until General Gregor has left the chamber,” stated Zackary to the Red Sword guards outside the chamber.

  Zack watched the group arrive and halt outside the door to the chamber. Four kitchen staff workers carried a long table with a decorated cake upon it. Four Red Swords, two leading and two following accompanied them.

  “The staff has prepared a birthday cake for the queen,” declared one of the kitchen workers.

  “We have not been informed of this,” retorted one of the Red Sword guards. “You shall have to wait.”

  “It is a surprise from the staff to show our appreciation and devotion,” countered the kitchen worker. “I am sure that she will be pleased.”

  Zackary shook his head and started walking past the cake. He frowned as he gazed at the feet of the Red Sword escorts. Something seemed wrong to him, but he could not determine what. He continued
past the cake and suddenly halted behind the last of the escorts. He stared at the damp boots of the Red Swords. His eyes narrowed as he surveyed the length of the pants on the escorts and noticed that they were too short to properly fit the man.

  Zackary reversed course and headed back towards the King’s chamber. He noticed nothing out of the ordinary regarding the kitchen staff, but the forward escorts also had damp boots. Zackary stopped and pretended to admire the cake. In reality, his eyes carefully examined the two forward escorts. His eyes widened involuntarily when he saw the small slit in the back of one of the uniforms. It was a slit that appeared to have been created by a knife to the man’s back. His eyes darted to the other forward escort and saw a similar hole in the man’s uniform.

  Zackary began softly whistling a tune as he continued towards the King’s Chamber. The tune was the Red Sword battle hymn, and the two Red Swords guarding the door to the King’s Chamber suddenly stared at Zackary. Zack walked to the door and stopped with his back to the cake escorts. He locked his eyes with one of the Red Sword guards and frowned as he nodded his head slightly towards the men behind him. The guard watched Zackary curiously as Zack’s hand slowly went to the hilt of his sword. Suddenly, the Red Sword guards understood the warning and nodded slightly.

  Zackary yelled, “Infiltrators!” as he pulled his sword and whirled.

  Zackary’s sword sliced cleanly through the neck of one of the fake Red Swords. Before anyone else could react, Zackary lowered his sword and pierced the heart of the second false Red Sword. The corridor immediately transformed into a battlefield as the real Red Swords pulled their swords and charged. The kitchen workers dropped the table, spilling the cake onto the floor. They turned and fled down a perpendicular corridor. The two fake Red Swords at the rear of the procession also took off running.

  The real Red Swords slid in the cake as they tried to catch the fleeing suspects. Other Red Swords appeared from around the corner and joined the chase. The door to the King’s Chamber flew open and Oscar appeared with his sword drawn. He quickly ran his eyes over the scene in the corridor and stepped out next to Zackary.