Chapter 28
Preparations
Upper Water Month, 24th day, 20.00
After passing through a tunnel carved into the rock, the group emerged on what was an elevation midway between the top of the waterfall and the lake over which the water gushed.
Hidden among the rocks was a square structure, vaguely resembling a dwelling if it were not for the lack of a door or any other part that might have served as an entrance.
"This way," Logem led them toward the back of the building and, after pulling a scroll from the bag he carried over his shoulder, said: "[Reveal Entrance]."
The scroll wore out and, as an enchant, the walls began to part, a shrill sound annoyed the ears, and a modestly sized opening materialized.
"Prudent," commented Antilene, not entirely surprised by that precaution. Using magic to prevent entry to unexpected visitors was common practice even in the Theocracy. "Although I would have expected something more original."
"The most proven methods are always the best," replied the scarred elf, quickly slipping into the opening. "Come, we don't have much time to waste."
After crossing a small hallway, a spacious kitchen made its way into their view.
There were few but well-ordered tools and supplies arranged on the large shelves at the sides of the room.
"Here you can rest yourselves and restore energies," Logem took one of the stowed pouches from which he handed out fruits of various kinds that he offered to the Black Scriptures. "Do not worry, a Druidic incantation kept them fresh, preventing rotting."
Although hesitant, the elite of the Theocracy gracefully accepted the food offered to them.
"It's good," the sweetness of the bitten apple refreshed Antilene's palate. "But we're not here to eat, right?"
"No, we're not," the elf headed toward a door that connected the right side of the kitchen with another room. "Lady Zesshi, I ask you to come alone for now. Some privacy is required."
"Okay," the half-elf turned her gaze toward her companions. "Wait for me here, it won't take long."
"Sister, keep an eye on them," Logem gave the order and then walked away without even waiting for a response.
"Oh, yes of course. If these Theocracy soldiers should decide to do anything I would be quite capable of stopping them all by myself," even though she knew he would not listen to her, the woman nevertheless expressed aloud the absurdity of the request. "When they tear me apart, at least I will know that you trusted me."
"Don't worry," glaring, Antilene searched for the right words to reassure her. "We are allies now, so they won't do anything to inconvenience you. Right?" She asked, addressing the Black Scripture.
"Right," they replied like good little soldiers. She had trained them well after all.
"Don't worry, lady elf. You have nothing to fear with us nearby!" Divine Chain seemed far too enthusiastic. "As long as I am there, no one will hurt you!" But maybe it was just an impression.
"Don't worry, Lady Zesshi," Time Turbulence had assumed the role of team spokesperson. He clutched his rapier firmly, still cautious about being in what was effectively enemy territory. "We will only attack if provoked. But I am sure that will not happen."
Antilene walked through the same door Logem had opened seconds earlier. What she found before her was ... more normal than she had expected.
"I thought you were going to entrust me with some enchanted sword, or an impenetrable shield, or some other legendary weapon," said the half-elf, disappointment for her shattered daydreams perceptible in her voice. "Instead ... There are only a lot of books here. Not that I don't appreciate a good read, mind you. Just not what I was expecting."
Mountains and mountains of texts crowded a giant library, attached to a wall of the room that was otherwise empty except for a small desk placed in the center.
"I doubt I could give you anything better than your current equipment," on this Antilene could not fault him. Still, not having found something magnificent to show off as the chosen one in the same way the heroines of legends began their story left a small bitter aftertaste. Bards did not begin their ballads from a dusty library. "Why don't you try looking at one of the texts found here?"
The half-elf did not let herself repeat it twice, and after randomly picking up one of those books, she began to read aloud.
"But this..." She could not hold back a squeak of surprise, for the content was rather... unexpected. "Tables of the king's wake-up times? On ordinary days it oscillates between seven and eight in the morning. On those dedicated to his greatness, even six in the morning."
"There are a lot more than you might think. Father likes to be celebrated."
Antilene continued flipping through the pages quickly, stunned by that sea of seemingly trivial information.
"Favorite breakfast: bunches of fresh grapes combined with grapefruit juice... Is wont to avoid dinner if he has had a large lunch... Doesn't like to be contradicted..."
The half-elf placed the book she was holding on the desk and picked up a second one, beginning to read it just as quickly.
"Always wears the same crown... When he goes to his rooms to rest, he often requires a bard to help conciliate his sleep... Cannot perform complex mathematical operations..."
And again, and again. Antilene kept reading, driven by curiosity.
"It is said that he has an aversion to oranges," those phantom secrets would have been more appropriate in a low-grade comedy. "Usually gets out of bed with his right foot..."
"Perhaps these last two are not very reliable," despite the absurdity of this piece of information, Logem maintained the same impassive look that distinguished him.
"But this is all worthless information. Stupid habits or unverified hearsay," much of what was written in those texts would have provoked laughter if read in another situation. But at that moment Antilene did not think it was suitable to engage in comedy, although a snicker was barely restrained… "Did you bring me here just to waste my time? Or maybe to improve my mood?"
"Listen to me," he sounded serious. Evidently, it was not just a bad joke. "I know it may seem that much of what you find inside those books is lacking in merit, I won't deny that."
"It would be hard the other way around," she interrupted him, with a derisive smile. "I admit I wasn't very interested in knowing what my father's favorite drink was."
"It's not just that," the elf pulled a detailed list from the inside of the desk. Marked on it were various ciphers, each probably corresponding to one of the shelves in the library. "A-7, row four."
Logem pulled out another book, looking the same as all the others. "Read this one, please!" He pleaded with her, for the first time his voice broken by a supplicating inflection.
"Okay," she settled him, still doubtful. Having reached that point, there was nothing left to lose. "Let's see."
"Behemoth," the title alone foretold that that text would be far more interesting than the others. "Possible theories about how it works. Chapter One: conditions of summoning. In addition to the normal summoning system observed in numerous magic casters, the king seems to possess a kind of sentient earthiness that he can maneuver at will to speed up the summoning time. It is uncertain whether this potting soil and Behemoth are actually connected or are just a tool to make magic easier. Nevertheless, the presence of this soil near the treasure room (testimony of three ex-royal guards) establishes a possible link."
"Keep reading," he urged her, unable to hide his satisfaction. Devoid of emotion was preferable.
"Chapter Two: possible risks. Usually resorting to such a powerful summoning could prove to be a heavy burden on the summoner's resources. While it cannot be determined with certainty whether these disadvantages really exist or are only a faint hope to cling to, various hypotheses have been formulated to be able to explain how the king manages to access a more powerful summoning than normal. For now, the most likely is that he possesses a particular magical tool that amplifies his abilities, allowing him to bypass normal summoning conditions… These are..."
"Exactly," Logem took the book from her hands, to engage in a cursory explanation. "Chapter Three: resistances and vulnerabilities. Chapter Four: movement patterns and special attacks. Chapter Five: possible reconstruction of the battles in which it was deployed."
"It's a treasure trove of invaluable information," Antilene had over the years gained an idea of what the Behemoth was- courtesy of Faine and the Theocracy's spies-but it was nowhere near as valuable as all that. "And everything included here corresponds to the truth?"
"Of that, I am not sure. Each of these books has lost texts, fragments of testimonies -even indirect ones- and rumors that I have collected and reworked over the years. Reliability, therefore, is not guaranteed with certainty."
Antilene's enthusiasm sagged, but it was not entirely gone.
"However," Logem continued, with a confidence that seemed unable to waver. "I am willing to bet that they are not entirely useless. Before facing the king, you need to be as informed as possible. That way, your chances of victory will increase, even if only by an infinitesimal amount."
"Not quite what I expected, I must be honest," after all, a sword capable of cleaving the sun or a helmet that made one invisible would have been preferable. "Nevertheless, I will treasure what is written in this book."
"Wait, this is not the end of it," the elf pulled out his list again. "B-4, C-5, D-3..."
One after another, more tomes began to be pulled out and placed back on the desk. Eventually, at least half a dozen of them had been placed back on the small writing table.
"Magics used by the king... Physical skills... Terrains suitable for confrontation..." Each of those manuscripts concealed within them years and years of painful research and sweat poured into gathering the smallest piece of data that might prove useful. "And not only news directly concerning the king. This one is devoted to the schedules of patrols in the capital. This other to possible army formations. And one with a detailed map of the royal palace and every possible point of interest. How much information have you gathered over the years?"
"...Enough."
"Amazing," surprise mixed with admiration flashed across the half-elf's face. "But why did you do all this?"
"I knew, or rather hoped, that one day someone would appear capable of ending the king's reign of terror. I just did what I could so that I could increase the odds of victory. I clung to every smallest lead I could track down and traveled far and wide in search of something or someone who might be useful for my purposes. I met mercenaries from the south and sophisticated races from the north, never getting anything concrete. I just wanted to... " The voice was broken by hesitation. A moment of weakness that came from the bottom of a heart that never knew rest, and could not remain unspoken. "I just wanted to stop feeling helpless like I did when I was a child."
"What..." Antilene was on the verge of asking more about Logem's past, but nipped the idea in the bud. The scar was more than enough of a clue to advance a hypothesis of what had happened, and prying more would run the risk of souring relations. "I understand," she merely replied. "It must have been hard."
"It was," Logem lowered his gaze. For the first time since she had met him -a very short span of time, she had to admit- Antilene noticed a disturbance in his emotions. "Now, however, we have other things to think about."
The elf continued, the vulnerability he showed was again stifled: "We have little time, so we cannot waste it. I will help you memorize the most important details." Imperceptible as a slight breeze, he brought himself behind her back. "We will initiate a plan of action. I need you to explain the abilities of your comrades, in order to bring to life a suitable team to face the king."
"On this last point I will stop you right now," Antilene turned to face him steadily. Although he was taller than her, it was the girl who imposed herself with her presence. "I will face my father alone. All I need is a proper diversion that prevents anyone from interfering."
"No way!" Logem's expression twisted into an outburst of anger. "I will not allow the one chance we have to be squandered on some foolish conviction. For what reason should I let you go alone?" The fingers of his right hand began to move, until they reached the wound that adorned his face. They began to rub against the atrophied skin, as if in spasms.
"Because you can't stop me," Antilene calmly explained. That obsessive movement continued, causing slight concern in the half-elf. "You have nothing to worry about. I will win."
"How do I know?" That compulsive movement worsened. The bun with which the elf's hair was enclosed unfolded, showing a row of silvery, silky hair. He looked just like their father, observed Antilene. "What should I do if you also fail? What would be left for me at that point?"
"Nothing," she reassured him. "If you were to lose, in that case, you can accept your death with no regrets. In any case, an end will be reached."
"...I," the agitation began to fade, but distress still plowed through his countenance. He heaved a deep sigh, searching for his lost calm. Antilene gave him the space needed to calm down.
'I never thought he could collapse so easily. His nerves of steel were just a facade.'
'I'm sorry,' he sought her forgiveness. But it was not necessary. The half-elf sketched a half-smile to let him know there was nothing to worry about. "It's just that lately I can't keep my temper easily."
'How many decades has his struggle been going on? Clearly, he has reached his limit.'
"I sympathize with you," it was not difficult for Antilene to imagine herself in the same condition, roles reversed. A compassion born of understanding made its way into her heart. "Nevertheless, I do not intend to go back on my decision."
"I had intended that," Logem had regained some of his decorum. After fixing his hair again and assuming a firmer posture, he regained his composed air. "Is there really nothing I can say to convince you?"
"I'm afraid not," confirmed the half-elf. "I decided that a single confrontation would be the best way in which I would break my fate. A choice I have made since I was a child."
"I can't understand it," resignation had taken over as the dominant emotion. "I suppose I can't help but give you trust. Will you at least allow me to help you get to Crescent Lake and rout the royal army?"
"Of course," Antilene's words were sincere. "I couldn't have asked for anything more. As you may have noticed, there are not many of us. The more we have to back us up, the better."
"Then it's decided," arranging the books, Logem chose a couple that he deemed suitable to begin those 'lessons.' "The capital is two days away from here. I don't know how long it will take to arrange everything. But I believe that in a week, we can start the assault. Do you think that's enough time?"
"It is."
"Perfect, then we can start. But first, I want you to promise me one thing. Just a proposal. If you will not be able to do it, it will be fine."
If you come across this story on Amazon, it's taken without permission from the author. Report it.
"I'm all ears."
----------------------------------------
A couple of days passed.
Antilene and Logem stay cooped up in the library practically the entire time, barely leaving themselves time to go outside to grab a bite to eat.
They continued like this, going over and over information, strategies, and battle plans until their bodies gave out from exhaustion.
A new morning dawned, the light of dawn silhouetted shyly in the sky, coloring the celestial vault a coppery red.
Antilene reluctantly got up from her assigned bed. The bedroom was small but comfortable with everything needed to ensure a proper stay.
If it had been just her, at least.
"Morning," she whispered softly, to find out if her companions had already gotten up or on the contrary were still prisoners in dreamland. 'No sign of life,' she noted. 'Better not wake them up yet.'
She pondered whether it would have been appropriate to start the day for them as well, but opted to leave them to their rest. The tasks they could perform at that time were limited, and it would not hurt her companions to enjoy a modicum of calm before the storm.
Taking care not to cause the slightest noise, harder to do than to say in that cramped space, the half-elf headed for the exit.
Expecting to find Logem already up, ready to start going over their battle plan, she was astonished to find the elf woman -she had not revealed her name yet- standing, already awake.
Her hair was pulled back into a ponytail and she wore light cotton clothes, ideal for life in the forest. The woman was positioned near the kitchenette, intent on tinkering with a kettle.
For her part, Antilene had been wearing the Wind God's armor for days now, shedding it only in rare moments of peace.
"Good morning," the woman greeted her with a choked, almost begrudging welcome. Still wary of her. Hard to not notice it. "You're up early."
"Good morning to you," Antilene returned the greeting, trying to show herself as cordial as possible. "You showed up this morning."
The elf's presence in recent days could have been called ghostly. She could have competed with another elusive figure lurking at the top of the Cathedral of Darkness that the half-elf knew very well.
"We have plenty of supplies, so there was no need to go out and get more," the woman explained, as she prepared a drink with a fruity aroma. Tea? "Would you like some?" She asked, intent on pouring some into a small pitcher.
"Gladly," Antilene gently grasped the glass that was offered to her, then brought the drink to her mouth. A sweet taste grazed her lips as she felt her body thank her for that small treat. " Good, though I prefer tea with less milk."
"Sorry, it's a force of habit," her lips arched in a small grimace. "Logem prefers it very sweet, and by now I've gotten used to it, too. I can make more if you want."
"No, there will be no need," the woman meanwhile had also offered her some whipped shortbread pastries, which the half-elf had gladly accepted. "Rather, where is Logem now? Strangely, he hasn't shown up yet," she asked, still intent on chewing, manners could go to hell.
"Speaking of which," the elf handed over a letter that had been left on the kitchen table. "Just an hour ago he left this place. This is for you."
Antilene opened the envelope and then began to read.
"What does it say?" The woman asked, curiosity spilling from her heterochromatic eyes. "As usual, Logem would not inform me of his plans. He said you would take care of it." How long had these two known each other? The fact that they were related did not establish with certainty that their meeting dated back to early childhood, but it was clear that the time they had spent together was a lot.
"It looks like it's going to start soon. Some final preparations need to be brought to a close. After that, he will inform us of when to get ready," the half-elf quickly summarized what she had just read. There were also many directions written about what might be the best readings to prepare in anticipation, but she felt it unnecessary to share those details. "Also, a request for you to remain here in order to be contacted quickly via [Message] when the time comes."
"Of course," the elf shrugged in defeat. "Well, he did it because he trusts me, that should make me happy, shouldn't it?"
"If it is any comfort to you, I promise that nothing will happen as long as you are under my protection."
"...Thank you."
Neither of them uttered another word, both too awkward to end the moment of quiet. Antilene's memory was catapulted back to her childhood and the times when even a simple greeting was a hard feat to accomplish.
"May I know your name?" She tried to break the ice with an obvious, yet essential question given the situation. It would have been strange, a thought not entirely unwarranted, to continue referring to her as 'the woman' or 'the elf' for the rest of their cohabitation.
The elf showed thoughtfulness, her fingers still fiddling with the cup of tea that was still clutched in her hands. "I still cannot trust you," she replied in a firm voice. "Not after what you've done. Call me silly, but not telling you my name is one of the last things I have control over."
"At least tell me a way to call you. Unless you just prefer to be called simply woman."
"Aella will do for now," the woman -Aella- stood up from her chair and cleared the table quickly. "I don't want you to think that we are…" The word she was about to utter choked in her throat, but Antilene had a clear idea of what was about to come out of her lips.
"No need for you to worry," there was no resentment in the half-elf's tone. "I do not consider you a sister. Nor Logem a brother. You are only a means to my end as I am the same to you."
"I see we are on the same wavelength," Aella was heartened to find that they felt the same way. "When this is over, I hope to see neither you nor those hypocrites in the Theocracy."
"There are no hypocrites in the Theocracy," a spark had been lit. Whether it was destined to become a fire was yet to be seen. "We fight for an ideal of peace and salvation. It is thanks to us that humanity thrives."
"And for your purposes, you would be quite happy to destroy and slaughter anyone who might be even remotely a danger to your ideal," the voice had risen slightly. Not enough to be an affront, but not so little as to be unnoticed. "As long as you are able to move forward, no matter what the cost will be. Easy, when you are not the one to pay the price."
"In war, there are always consequences. That's the way the world runs!" Said the half-elf. "Innocent victims pay for the mistakes of those above them."
"And do you think that's fair? Even those who abhor conflict are dragged into it by you. Not only we elves. I am aware of many of what you call 'cleansing operations'."
"It is necessary," no matter how wrong it might seem in the eyes of an outsider. The precepts of her faith were anchored in precise survival needs. "Attacking first is the only hope of salvation."
"No," although the tone had faded, that resentment that could have cleaved the air was still perceptible. "It is you who have decided this way. Heedless of what the consequences might be, you humans bring desert to where once was green. And then call that peace."
Antilene moved her arm. Aella closed her eyes. The gears of time stopped. Aella opened her eyelids again. Antilene was a few feet away from her, a melancholy expression on her face.
"Do you think it's that simple?" Was she asking the elf for an answer or was she looking for it within herself? "I would have endless gruesome stories I could tell you. Do you know what some trolls do to pregnant human women? Are you aware of the cattle farms in the center of the continent? Humans are on the edge of the food chain."
"But you are not a human," Aella tried to brush back the hair that covered the sides of Antilene's face. "Not entirely, at least."
The half-elf human girl shook her hands away before they could reach their target.
"I am human," Antilene pulled away. She stifled the uncertainty that was about to grip her and walked toward the library. "If you need, you know where to find me. Don't worry, I don't intend to go back on my word."
She closed the door behind her, without looking back.
They didn't speak again for the rest of their stay.
Middle Water Month, 1st day, 7.00
It was his watch shift. Calush hated it. Of course, far better than serving in the royal palace, but it was not a very high bar to surpass.
"Calush," his squad leader called him in that irritating toad-like voice of his. "You've been assigned to the upper part of the western zone. See that you don't slack off as usual."
"There will be no problems, Sergeant Tagore," prick. The only real danger in Crescent Lake was if that asshole decided to open his mouth so that everyone who lived in the capital could smell his stinking breath. "No intruder will be able to sneak in."
But what intruders, anyway? In the span of his three hundred and twenty-five years of life -even though he had to admit that he still only looked like an elf of two hundred and seventy- no one had dared to approach the heart of Evasha's kingdom.
Even the army of the Theocracy, when it was still present in the forest, had not crossed a boundary that had been laid a few kilometers away.
"There is no doubt about it," Sergeant Asshole raised his fist as a foreshadowing of the nefarious consequences that awaited in case of failure. "If not, prepare to face the king's wrath."
Calush was willing to bet that if the stupid sergeant brought any of his disobedience to the attention of the monarch, he would certainly fare no better than he did.
The king was famous for not putting up with anyone who wasted his time.
Note well: wasting time included a long and arbitrary list ranging from a simple audience to a greeting given at the wrong time.
But he kept his mouth shut and headed to his seat like a good little soldier, as he did every day.
Sergeant Sledgehammer In The Ass could spend another day in front of the mirror with that smile that didn't hide his rotten teeth telling himself how good he was.
The city streets were deserted. Unusual, but nothing unexpected, given the morning hour.
"What do you think will happen today?" His teammates disturbed the calm of that beautiful morning. "An enemy raid? Or a siege?"
Calush did not even look him in the eye before answering. "No, none of that, Reself," as indeed nothing had happened for more than four hundred years. "We will stay in our place like beautiful figurines decorating the landscape until the changing of the guard comes. As we have done every day for the last hundred years."
"Aren't you afraid that the Theocracy might attack us?"
"The royal army has spent weeks eradicating the undead born of the massacre carried out by the king," fortunately for him, Calush had been exempted from the task. If he had no problem cracking a few human skulls, the same could not be said in dealing with the undead. It was not his fault that the filthy beasts made him uncomfortable. In his opinion, freaks were those who could see a corpse start to move without feeling their guts ignite in terror. "And the forest dwellers dare not approach, thanks to the protection of the lord of the lake." Perhaps the legend that a sea dragon inhabited the lake that Crescent Lake stood near was, indeed, just a legend. After all, no one had ever seen the self-styled monster. But as long as it would keep anyone unwelcome away, that was fine.
"I see," no. He didn't understand, but by now Calush had gotten used to it. His comrade wasn't quite there in the head, but he was no trouble and knew his place. The royal army did not ask for more. Nor did he. "Oh, almost forgot. I heard interesting news from Quartem." Arriving at their post, a modestly sized gate that connected the capital with the rest of the forest, Reself broke the sacred silence with a phrase uttered far too many times in recent months.
"Anything interesting?" Probably not. Quartem was famous for his habit of telling lies. By now one could count on the fingers of one hand the elves who believed his tales. Reself, of course, was one of them. "Last time it was about a giant centipede that had decided to befriend some of our rangers. Now what is it all about? A hive where bees make chocolate? Or a lake inhabited by the last fairies? If you ask me, the brothel of Dryads still remains the most interesting gossip. Too bad it wasn't true."
"This time it's not nonsense," if he was so sure, then it had to be true, right? "It's trustworthy news, coming from the royal rangers. Those who survived, at least."
Calush sneezed. Cold air was circulating, and the chill was beginning to seep into his bones. Winter had come late that year; the summer uniform would soon have to be replaced with more suitable clothes.
"What did you say?" It took him a few seconds to realize what he had heard. "Explain yourself."
"We all know about the large army that was gathered to head to the center of the forest," the vision of that numerous streams of people was still etched in Calush's mind. Never in his life had he seen such an impressive deployment of forces. "It looks like it's not back yet."
"Is that all?" And to think that for a moment he had almost believed that this was interesting for a change. "It must have been a couple of weeks at most. They must be taking their time to avoid coming back to this hovel."
"It's not just about that," one of the elves manning the entrance with them approached. A long scar covered his right eye and his long hair was held in a bun. He was not wearing a uniform, but there was nothing strange about that. Only a few veterans were equipped with state gear. These were rare cases; much of the army was left to its own devices. Calush was one of the lucky few as he had found the old abandoned clothing of some old lieutenant. "Reliable sources report to me that the whole army was annihilated."
"And what would your reliable sources be? Quartem?" The stranger stared at him with one eye. A scarlet red one that resembled the color of blood. Calush felt unsettled, but he kept talking, pretending there was nothing strange about the elf. "I'm sorry to tell you, but everyone knows he's a liar."
"Are you sure?" That question seemed to have been asked merely as a formality, a predetermined part of an already-written script. "I was there. And I can assure you that it's all true."
"You mean the Theocracy has invaded us again?" Damn humans and their habit of reproducing like rabbits. Filthy creatures that multiplied only so they could disperse to the corners of the globe like starving carrion looking for remains to pluck. "Even so, which I think is unlikely, the king will repeat what he has done before. I hope so. No army of humans, heck no army of any unknown race can do anything against him!"
Calush hated that scumbag king as much as anyone. But if there was one thing the bastard was good at, it was fighting. As long as he was alive, the elf kingdom would not fall.
"Also, if you were there how are you still alive?"
"That doesn't matter."
Someone else would point out that it mattered a lot. But Calush was not looking for trouble.
"You're only half right," the stranger explained. Calush still had no idea who he was. Usually, the guard shifts were predetermined and it was hard to see any new faces. A last-minute substitution? It could have been. "They actually sent only one person. And this person single-handedly wiped out the royal soldiers and some of the forest lords."
Calush swallowed. This was a joke, wasn't it?
Calush looked at Reself, who unlike him seemed convinced. But Reself was a simpleton who believed everything.
Calush felt his mind going astray. One person alone taking down an entire army? Yet their ruler had proven that it was not impossible.
Dizziness that made his head spin was beginning to make him lose his bearings. He had to draw on all his strength to regain control.
Only then he realized that the other elves on the team gathered around him. Not even one of their faces was recognizable. What was going on? He tried to grasp the bow he was carrying but determined that they would take him out before he could even prepare the first arrow.
Defeated before he even started, a fitting end for a personality like his. A prayer was invoked, for at least the end would be painless. He did not relish a glimpse of the inside of his body.
"Who are you?" Before returning to the creator, his curiosity needed to be satiated. "Rebels?"
"No need to be so tense," the stranger was calm. Easy to be when you weren't the one surrounded by dozens of people on the verge of killing you. "Yes, we are rebels. But don't worry, we don't intend to harm you. On the contrary."
"What do you think, Calush?" Reself was bemused. What was going on inside that wormy head, no one could know. "They don't seem to me to have bad intentions."
Calush did not even dignify him with a reply. Judging by the weapons they wielded, those rebels seemed to be anything but well-intentioned.
"What do you want from us?"
"It's simple. Join us and you will see the rise of a new era. The savior has come," the what now? "The tyranny of the bloody monarch ends today."
Two alternatives were possible, in Calush's judgment.
The first was simple. A messiah had come from who knows where to deliver them from their suffering. A story laden with mysticism, in which a chosen one finally fulfilled his promised destiny, exorcizing evil from those lands after endless tribulations. A beautiful prophecy. Too bad that no shaman, priest, or other religious person had ever prophesied such nonsense.
So the second hypothesis was far more convincing. The wound that had caused that scar had gone dangerously deep, grazing the brain and causing some neural damage.
"What will you do if we have to refuse?" He certainly did not expect to be invited to have tea in case of a negative answer.
"Can't you imagine? " Pity, he would have been quite content even with hot milk in that cold weather.
"I suppose I have no other choice," his mind switched to wondering if he would have time for one last trip to the pleasure house. Evangeline or Rosaline. One minute with either of them -or maybe both at the same time- and then he could have died satisfied. "I've always hated this place. I hope to leave some mess behind. What do you say, Reself? One last adventure before we part forever."
"I'm with you!" Poor, stupid Reself. The enthusiasm he externalized by puffing out his pride-laden chest suggested that he had no idea what they were getting into. At least, unlike him, he would have the conviction to leave this world as a hero in the end. "I cannot stand by while valiant men fight for freedom!"
"Perfect," said the elf with the scar. Even though everything had gone according to his plans he retained an unfathomable mask. Irritating. "Now I want you to take me to the place where your team leader is."
"This will be easy," eliminating one's superior? Every man and woman's dream come true. "Follow me."
The group moved away from the guard post -and to think he had been sincere that morning when he had promised not to move away- under Calush's leadership.
The streets continued to be deserted, on second thought it was a detail that should have caught their attention. Something big was about to happen.
"This is it," the now traitor pointed the rebels to a small tower at the far end of the gateway where they mounted guard. "Sergeant Tagore should be there with just a few other guards."
"Perfect," the scarred elf entered quickly, followed just as eagerly by his subordinates. "You guys can stay here if you want. It won't take long."
Calush and Reself looked at each other. "I'll go in too," said his companion. "Staying here without doing anything doesn't seem right to me."
"If you feel like getting yourself killed, I won't stop you."
Left alone, Calush found himself alone in the company of his thoughts.
'In a few minutes, my whole existence was turned upside down. I always thought I would be cast out and spend the rest of my days as an outcast. Instead, here I am. Calush, the revolutionary. That doesn't sound so bad. Maybe I will be the one to kill the king! Can you imagine?'
He waited a few minutes, undecided about what to do. That stillness did not portend anything good.
'So much for the revolution. What if they had been killed on the spot? I hate him, but dickhead sergeant is a skilled warrior. What if I did all this for nothing? What if they come down now to label me a traitor to the homeland? What will become of me? Think Calush, think. Maybe I should run away and take refuge in the forest. Finding asylum in some remote tribe at the edge of the dark elves' territory could be the best outcome for me. But why should they take me in?'
Unsure of what to do, he began to imagine endless scenarios of what his fate would be. None of them had a happy ending.
"Well, it's make or break.'
Resigned now to his grim end, Calush walked through the tower door and up the stairs leading to the command room.
Surprisingly, it was not the rebels who had suffered losses. In fact, the only lifeless bodies were those of the sergeant and his guards.
"Ah, you've come too," the rebel leader greeted him, intent on disposing of the corpses. "Help us arrange them in a dignified manner. Just because they were enemies doesn't mean they shouldn't be treated with respect. Your friend is not much help to us."
Reself was sitting in a corner, his arms covering up his face. He was not hurt, not physically at least, but he kept muttering, "I didn't want this, I didn't want this!" as he rocked in despondency.
Harsh reality had shattered his dreams of glory. Calush tried to feel compassion for him, but he couldn't say Reself didn't bring it on himself.
Now looking at him lifelessly, Sergeant Tagore had also stopped provoking any reaction in him. So much for those fantasies in which he spit and pissed on his dying body while laughing his ass off.
Calush laid down the body of his former superior with all the firmness and gentleness he possessed, without making a single comment. He laid a cloth over him and the other deceased guards, as if that futile gesture might bring relief to their souls. Trivially, it only served as a reminder that death was not with them.
"What now?" He asked the elf with the scar. The latter was intent on issuing orders to his soldiers, and took a few seconds before directing his attention to him.
"We wait," he replied. "I was lucky. I learned what I was interested in from him," he pointed to the sergeant's still-covered body.
"What did you want to know?"
"Only the precise location of a certain place," he dismissed him in a few words. "Now get ready, it's going to start soon."
"What do you advise me to do?"
"Survive."