THE ELF
Lunch was the same as the earlier meal. Not much to write home about. Some kind of gruel with a cup of water. While I chewed through the chewy bits and ignored the crunchy squirming bits, I reflected on my options going forward. I still had my ring of storing, and access to all the goodies within the extra dimensional space. Since it was invisible to others, it had not been taken from me. I still missed my boots and cloak, but I would get those back, I made that promise to myself. How realistic the promise was, I didn’t know, but part of being successful is making goals, and so I decided to take inventory.
With a thought towards my ring, the inventory showed up.
Ring of Storing inventory:
1x Floral wreath necklace (Quality Basic)
1x health potion (Draft quality) Gives a complete body heal
1x Katana blade (Quality Exquisite)
(damaged hilt, Blade altered from extreme mana exposure)
1x Vial containing a drop of Avihs’ serpent venom
1x rudimentary Bow (Quality Basic)
2x sinew Drawstrings (Quality Low)
2x rope (10m length total)
1x KBAR knife (Durability High)
5x various rocks
1x handful of luminous lichen
3x rudimentary bone arrow shafts
And that was it.
Not a whole lot of options, but some interesting stuff to ponder.
The luminous lichen I had picked up while digging myself out of the Science facility seemed to be as good as new. It was a great source of light at night, giving off a subtle blue tinged radiance in the dark. Enough light to see with, but not bright enough to attract much attention. Clearly the extra dimensional space kept it inert, but alive. That was a relief as I might need a source of light in my dark cell. I had gathered it purely on impulse.
The first item reminded me that I owed the Princess of the Orc’s a special gift and I thought it unusual enough that she would appreciate it. It would also balance the scales after her kindly gift of a floral wreath necklace.
It had been difficult clawing myself out of that cavern, and thanks to my magical abilities I had acquired some nifty spells for earth moving. I longed for access to my magic. The power and options it brought to bear would be extremely handy in getting myself out of this place.
“BURT, how come I could channel magic into my punch earlier, but my Mana bar continues to register zero?” it was something that had been bothering me.
“You did not have zero mana at the time, it was around two percent according to my log. The discharge used up all of it and seems to have caused a further disruption in your ability to absorb ambient mana. I suspect the damage done to your mana ways is a lot more extensive than I first realized.”
“If I drank this health potion, would it restore me?” I needed my magic, it had become a fundamental part of my identity in a very short time and the advantages it brought to the table were priceless.
“I do not know Petros. I can only surmise that perhaps it might restore your abilities, but since the potion is triggered by physical trauma and only of Draft quality, I doubt you could get its full magical benefits. You would need to use it to repair some serious physical trauma. It is also worth considering that a large part of magic and magical ability is spiritual. Potions can heal the physical barriers but not necessarily spiritual ones.”
I saw his point immediately. The magical ways were a hypothetical explanation of the ability to absorb magical mana from the surroundings and channel it within to your natural pool of mana storage. The more ways you had, the more could flow into you, also the bigger they were, the more you could channel. A bit like a lake being fed by streams. Once the streams dried up, so too did the lake. I didn’t have a definitive place or precise location of where they existed within me and so the only way to heal them might be to trigger the health potion to repair me completely. This of course could only be done if I was hurt badly enough that the healing process would, upon drinking, initiate a complete healing process instead of a localised healing.
About the best scenario where I could do that would be to run into the wall really hard. Except, well, I didn’t have it in me to cause self harm. Not like that. I’m not a complete idiot. Besides, what if it knocked me out and I woke up late for the training. Then who would explain to Master the Abattoir.. err Arminuto or whatever he was, and then what if I actually broke through the wall.. and..
“Petros!”
The voice in my head was becoming a drag. “What?” My own inner voice could rise too.
“You are spiralling into a frenzy. Control yourself.” BURT’s stern voice left me feeling violated. I had not been spiralling. It had been more of a straight line. But seriously though, was I getting attention deficit syndrome finally, after all of these years? That would be a laugh.
“Petros, focus. The meal had additives. You are under the effect of some kind of drug. Surely you realize this?”
“Well shit, Sherlock, I think you are onto something there. Oh man, this shit is good. BURT?…”
“Yes Petros?”
“Don’t call me Shirley.”
“What do you mean? I never called you Shirley.”
“Yeah you did, so don’t do it. Seriously though. Whatever that stuff is, it’s way better than weed. Have you ever had weed? No, of course you haven’t.”
”Petros, you are rambling, and I didn’t call you Shirley. I really struggle to understand you sometimes.”
“Now you sound like my ex. Oh my God, give a computer sentience and it turns into your ex. That’s hilarious!”
The conversation went on like that for a bit. My senses hyped and my brain wacky. What saved me was the door to my cell opening and a heap of armor thrown in. I assumed it was for me to wear.
“Thank you so much Mr Dwarf!” I yelled to the closing door as I heard them proceed to the next cell.
It turned out that the food had a local berry as seasoning that caused the euphoric effect. Apparently it gave the new recruits courage enough to face their fears. What it gave me was gas. Now that was something to fear. It also gave my HUD an indicator. A small green purple blood drop icon that blinked ominously at the side of my vision. It pulsed from green to purple and back to green. Intuitively I knew it as an indicator of some type of poisoning, the purple color denoting it was a psychedelic.
I began fumbling my way through the various articles from the pile, and donning what amounted to hard-boiled leather armor, interlinked with ingenious studs and buckles, a lesson of patience unto itself. The smell of it was awful and the various stains on it made me appreciate that it had been used quite a lot, and not always successfully. I knew this because the blood stains were mostly on the inside of the armor.
Putting on good old-fashioned body armor proved quite a challenge, and made me long for velcro and the simple kevlar body armor of my world.
The Dwarves came back a short while later. Checked that I was wearing the armor correctly. Cinched me tighter in some places and loosened me in others, then herded me outside my cell to join an entourage.
Me and my five good Scalar buddies from the slave pens were hustled along, all of us clad in leather armor. The jingle of buckles, a constant reminder of our enslavement. We frog marched through the complex, along corridors and down stairs. Maybe up some stairs from time to time too. It was quite the distance. Easily a kilometer of passageway passed while the six of us smiled at everything. One of the group even made “Ooh” and “Aaah” noises as we passed the lights on the walls. It made me smile wide. I might even have giggled. Clearly the euphoria was not limited to me and a couple of the others snickered too. The Dwarves, as usual, ignored us, and seemed content that we were going in the direction they were leading us.
Eventually we arrived at a door and were forced into a line outside. The first Scalar went in, a short while later he came out. In his hand he had a wooden spear. He was placed on the opposite side of the corridor, and the next bloke went in. I was last in the queue so when I went in, I expected an armory. Possibly a quartermaster handing out equipment. Instead, I was surprised.
It appeared to be a large office, despite being in a mountainside underground. It was a wide open area, at least thirty meters squared. The desk taking up the far corner in the room, another door leading off near it.
A lone Elf sat at the desk, a flowing robe surrounding his slender frame. His facial features were drawn and pinched. The one side of his face and throat were severely scarred as if a bear had been at him. With one eye a milky white and devoid of life staring sightlessly. A line of mucous and moisture seemed to ooze from the tear duct on that side. The white of the orb glistened brightly as he turned to look at me with his other good eye. He closed the book where he was making notes and shoved it aside while dropping his quill.
The good eye was sharp and sparkled with deep intelligence. I could see him looking with an intensity at me. Really… looking into me. Perhaps using a magical examination or identify skill like I had, but he was still on the other side of the room, so his skill was definitely more advanced than my own.
I stood still while he regarded me. I felt the mark I had received long ago, the one upon my forehead tingle. The mark I had been given in Illuminous as a welcome ID signature, shaped like the eye of Horus.
A look of shock on that scarred face was something to behold and was quickly masked by the Elf, but it made me extra cautious.
What was an Elf doing here?
The door closed behind me and he indicated I should move to the center of the room. A circle engraved into the floor pulsed with eldritch light, and I felt a tingle as I stumbled across its threshold into the confines of its encircling design. The Elf came to stand within the circle at the opposite end and a snap of his fingers caused a translucent barrier to encase us within the circle exactly.
Out of my depth, I just kept quiet. The sparkling shimmer of the barrier attracted my addled attention, almost drawing the “wow” expletive, but I reigned it in. The green and purple teardrop indicator was still blinking in my vision, but it was fading and not blinking so rapidly.
“What are you?” the Elf enquired. His voice, raspy, and surprisingly warm. It had a hint of the musical notes to be found in others of his kind, but with a higher pitch and of course the raspy quality no doubt from the healed head and neck injury. While he said it, he extended his hand and sent a pulse of cerulean energy towards me. It flowed out his outstretched hand to stream towards me, then surrounded me. The soft azure light then began to probe into every nook and cranny. I mean.. every nook and cranny and I hopped a bit while it ventured beneath my armor. BURT’s warning message “Hold still!” kept me on my toes. The feeling passed and I heard the Elf mutter to himself “No magical ability at all. Barely a drop of mana within him.”
This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.
I kept my face blank. He was watching me very carefully and had used his own Elven tongue. Fortunately my guard was up and BURT’s warning had given me enough presence of mind to be wary.
Switching back to Gnomish, he said “I am Mage Lord Sebastina. Why do you have the All-Eye upon you?”
I gave him a glazed look, exaggerating my drugged state. He snapped at me. “Wake up! Answer me!” His hand crackled with energy as if to accentuate his point.
“All-eye?” I said.
“Yes, the all-eye upon your brow. It is only given to those mageborn permitted entry to the blessed city of Illuminous, although… your All-eye appears tainted.” He paused for a bit, speculative. His hand went to his chin. “Yours has the correct features as an all-eye, but it has something else too. …something more, or maybe less? Perhaps because you are not one of the gifted.” His introspection at my security pass bestowed upon me by Prince Horatio had really piqued his curiosity. Could I leverage this to my advantage?
Deciding to take a risk, I took a deep breath and in flawless Elven said, “Prince Horatio sent me, are we secure within this barrier?” and as if I had struck him, I think he could not have been more startled. The surprise quickly darkened to anger though, and I groaned, thinking I had gambled and lost.
“Horatio? Prince Horatio? That ass sent the likes of you? for me? Not even a mage?” His haughty attitude gave me the distinct impression that Prince Horatio was pretty high up on Sebastina’s shit list. I wasn’t sure where it put me though. Could I salvage this situation? My thoughts were sluggish, but I had an ace up my sleeve. BURT was doing his utmost to give me pertinent prompts, and it kept my focus on the matter at hand.
“No!, I was not sent to you, I don’t even know who you are.” I stated, hoping this would save my dumb-ass move of divulging too much. My tongue had a way of making trouble for me of late.
“Aaah” His drawn out contemplative response left me hanging. He was leaving me room to fill in the blanks. This dude would be great on the stage. His theatrics were too perfect. A master tactician? Okay, I was getting my thought process back on track. I could work with this.
“I was sent on a mission against the Reapers and barely survived. When the Dwarves found me, I was unconscious and they locked me up. I’m sure this has all been a big misunderstanding. Whatever the case, I need to get back to my unit and report.”
Aargh, what was this stuff I had eaten? I just kept spilling out words that I really didn’t want to say much about. It seemed that once I started speaking, things just slipped out.
“You still haven’t answered my question. What are you?” Sebastina continued, as if my news didn’t phase him.
I stopped admonishing myself and thought for a minute. My tentative reply “Human” seemed to shock him even more.
“You are a human?” his disdainful voice was back. “That’s not possible. What are you doing here? The last I heard was our people managed to leave Earth for good. Are there more of you?” It was an innocent question. Slipped in with the perfect degree of curiosity and the implication that I could never know something like that. He really was a master at interrogating. If I went with my instincts, I would have answered him. Instead I asked a question.
“How long have you been away from Illuminous?”
This caused him to pause. A slice of pain cut across his features, then was gone. His cunning eye looked at me for a long moment then it creased in annoyance as he made a decision. The mask was gone and our dance was over.
“I am a prisoner here too, young human. Do not play games with me. I have seen and heard it all. At first I was a slave, like you, and yet now, while I am still a slave, I am not like you at all. I have freedom because I am talented, and I have earned the right to move more freely. Be open with me and perhaps you too could earn more freedom.”
He moved towards me, and my Identify skill activated.
Title: Mage Lord
Species: Elf
Level 70
“I have toiled my way to the top of the pile for the last hundred years. It is not easy doing what I do. In fact, at times it can be rather ….distasteful. What you have to realize… Human, is that I have to tell Lord Artoo something of value. This polite interrogation is a nicety extended as an opportunity because my Master recognises that you are different. Don’t lose this chance.”
He paused right in front of me. I could see the silver flesh of his scars reflecting the lights from the wall. My face was barely discernible in his one milky white orb that never seemed to blink. “Those who are ignored here, become beast fodder very easily. Tell me what I want to know, … give me details, …make me believe you.” He paused at each clause and his request seemed genuine. I was still trying to digest what he had told me though.
“A hundred year’s a slave?” I asked. Hmm, that could almost be a movie title. Instinctively I made my decision, it was time to push some more buttons.
My incredulous voice edged with just a hint of scorn burst out of me, “You coward!” I was going out on a limb here. If he was being genuine to me, expressing sincere willingness to swap information, he would absolutely lose his shit. However, if he was manipulating me….
“Don’t try to mock me Human!” he snarled, I could see he was angry, but not as angry at the slight as I expected. Rather, he was angry that his ploy to bait me didn’t work. This time, he deflected.
“What do I call you? Do you have a name?”
Good, this was what I had hoped for, he was in control of his emotions and the prospect of torturing me wasn’t foremost on his agenda. The deflecting helped my cause. It meant he could be reasoned with. I wasn’t about to give up information to someone who was going to get off on causing me pain. If he could be reasoned with, then I had a chance to get as much as I gave.
“Look, I’m sorry to call you a coward. It was wrong, and I definitely don’t know anything about your situation, but I’m okay to cooperate. My name is Petros.” His subtle head nod indicated I should go on.
“There isn’t much to tell really. I was recruited by the Absinthe and during a mission to rescue your dearest Princess I got left behind. That’s it. The Gnomes and their Dwarven entourage found me while I was unconscious and the rest of it you know.”
“Hold on there, who are the Absinthe?” Sebastina asked, his face puzzled.
“Oh, that’s right, you wouldn’t know. It’s a name we humans gave the Ancients who oppose the Reapers.”
He then asked me the question he really wanted to know about. I had seen the sparkle. That was the trouble when you had a maiming on the face. Only his one eye could generate the facial expressions we all use to communicate subconsciously. The movements accentuated because of the scarring. I looked for the signs when I mentioned the Princess, and his reaction let me know immediately that this was something that interested him greatly.
“Tell me about the Princess.” Sebastina said.
I had him, but as he stood closer to me, I realized something. Something that had been nagging distantly at the back of my mind.
Despite the scarring, despite the slack features that rendered a hideous and pasty appearance over that once handsome face. The milky eye, weepy and almost unblinking alongside the normal eye had hidden something.
Because of the stark brutality reflected in the scaring, it had completely detracted my attention from the rest of the body. The slender delicate features of this High Elven lord were slightly soft, despite the misshapen face, the posture was slightly curvy and … almost feminine. Were those mild swellings on the chest breasts or pecs? Holy moly, this was no dude. Not a male at all.
Sebastina was a woman. An Elven mage lord. Shouldn’t that be Lordess or Lady? How the hell was anyone supposed to know? I was irritated that it had taken me so long to join the dots. Her wry smile let me know that she knew what I was thinking and had been perfectly happy to deceive me. Why had she come close enough so that I could tell she was a woman?
“She is trying to keep you off balance” was BURT’s warning. I concurred with his reasoning. This synergy between me and my AI was getting along seamlessly despite my deep misgivings about it. I wondered if people possessed by demons had a similar feeling? Getting back on track I had to ask the only question left to me.
“Who are you? I said.
Her lips pulled upwards at the one corner mysteriously and indicated with a tilt of her head that I should answer her question now. It reminded me of Horatio in his owl form.
I continued then, unabated, “The Princess was wounded when I last saw her. She had been maimed…” I left the statement hanging to see what effect it would have. Sure enough, the woman grew concerned. You couldn’t see it on her face exactly, but her slight stiffening of posture and quick response let me know it was important to her.
“What happened to her? Who took her? Why was she even on Scalaron?”
“I have answered your question, now you answer mine.” I made my own expression flat. No longer pretending to be drugged up. The little green/purple indicator on my HUD had disappeared and I assumed somehow that my super metabolism or BURT and his bots had managed to circumvent the effects and filtered my blood somehow. I had to grind down my grateful feeling. The alien AI inside my mind was not a welcome guest and any form of gratefulness on my part implied I was content with the arrangement.
Sebastian said “I am who I told you I am. I was left for dead during a skirmish with the Reapers and taken slave from the battlefield in the aftermath by Gnome scavengers. The Elven forces have not been back that I have heard of. In fact no forces from my world have ever been seen on Scalaron more than a handful of times since we lent aid all those years ago. Lord Artoo tells me that the Reapers have scaled back their attacks. They have left most of Scalaron untouched. The recent attack on Agablane was the first such instance of a direct attack in a very long time. The Void crystal defense mechanism of the Scalar people is extremely effective against the Reapers. So the Reapers gain nothing by attacking. At least not very much survives. Since you were one of the few survivors found in the general region of Agablane I have been tasked to find out what you know and what you were doing there.”
Laying all her cards on the table was a smart move. It left me with no more questions and thus I had to do the same.
“I was making for that city… Agablane you called it?” She nodded and I continued, “…to find someone, to find some way to get back to Illuminous. Now that the crystal has decimated everything, I find it highly unlikely that I will ever find the person I want. Now, please tell me what is my purpose here? Are the Gnomes allied with the forces against the Reapers?
She shook her head ruefully. “The Gnomes are a secretive lot. They want nothing to do with the Reapers besides for trade. Their philosophy of remaining on the verge has stood them in good stead while here on Scalaron. I believe they do have extensive commercial dealings with the Reapers however. Providing technology, sometimes information. They are secure with things as they are here. A stalemate between the Allied forces and the Reaper hordes, with neither side in the ascendancy for long. As long as the Gnomes keep the Dwarves subdued, I doubt the Reapers will bother them much. At least not until the Scalar have been disposed of. No, don’t look at me like that.” My face had drawn pinched with disappointment. The more I heard about these Gnomes, the more I was thinking of them as parasites.
Sebastina continued, “They extend advantages to the Allies too, they also trade their technology to the Scalar and anyone else besides. The good news for you is that you will get to test out their latest inventions, that is if you survive long enough to be awarded that privilege. I want more from you Human Petros. I want to know more of this unit you wish to get back to. I want to know more about my people and also more about my daughter.”
The bombshell shattered my cool demeanour and I blinked several times. Daughter? Was she claiming that the Princess was her daughter? But why was she so disdainful towards Horatio? What the hell was going on?
“Are you King Albarkin’s wife? The Queen?” I blurted. Completely flustered. She had caught me off guard with her comment and I was struggling to understand events.
“If you utter a word to anyone, I will have you skinned alive as a liar.” Her snarled threat was real. Her expression, as serious as her scars. “I am not his wife, nor the Queen… anymore, but Princess Adrianne is my daughter. Now tell me about her and leave nothing out.”
So I told her. She deserved to know. As the Princess’s mother she had every right. As I relayed all that had happened to me, I reflected on Raul, Sarah, Major Stone and the rest of the team. I wondered what they were doing and if I would ever see them again. It also made me reflect on the way each of them was being overridden or overwritten by an AI mini-mind and fumed anew at the Absinthe. If I could get a message to them. Find a way to let them know of the danger they were in… but first I had to take care of myself and my immediate perils.
Being a slave here was not helping them, nor was it helping me. I also had a bargaining chip. A former Queen of the Elves. Things were getting complicated and I didn’t have the foggiest idea of how I would escape, but I knew it would happen. I had escaped the Absinthe after all. With BURT helping me, and maybe with this former Queen as an ally, perhaps there was a way.
After what seemed an age, my retelling of my adventures complete, Sebastina now had both her eye’s tearing in relief that her daughter was out of harm's way, I was moved to give her a hug. It was a small thing and caught her completely off-guard. She stiffened immediately and she moved to push me away. But then, like watching a time-lapse of ice floes crumbling from extreme weathering, she disintegrated and great sobs wracked her frame. She didn’t return my hug exactly, but she shivered and trembled and banged her closed fists onto the hard leather chest-piece I wore.
This went on for a minute and then I watched the time lapse video in reverse. She knitted herself back together until she was whole and fully formed. The one eye and blotchy red-cheek dampness were the only signs that she had been crying. I stepped away, uncertain of where we stood, and waited.
“Thank you Petros.” was all she whispered, but it conveyed a sense of gratitude that only a mother can when her child has been saved from monsters. A lump formed in my throat. I was only now beginning to realize what this woman had endured, what she had lost and how seeing me, and hearing my tale of her daughter had brought back many painful memories of loss and sacrifice.
Away from her people, enslaved and yet she had risen to the very pinnacle as a trusted advisor to the Lord of this slave den. Okay, when I put it like that it doesn’t sound so grand, but even so, she had made the best of a bad situation. Her strength and sheer determination, a testament to all. A shining beacon that cream always rises to the top no matter what the circumstances. I longed to know her story, but had a feeling she would not give it up easily.
Then, composed once again, the Elf that was both a former queen and now a slave flicked her wrist and the circle around us dissipated and she went to open the door near her desk, fished around inside, and returned carrying a very basic looking spear.
She handed it to me.
I took the spear, and made to turn. She held onto it for the briefest of instants and said,
“Brace the spear on the floor during the charge, it is crude, but it works. That should be enough to get you through to the next round.” She turned, dismissed me and went back to her desk. Each step transformed her from a small wounded bird to something of the formidable person she had been before my interview. I continued to turn and joined the others waiting patiently outside the room.