John followed Sor Al back to a jeep that had been waiting for them.
“Your aura reserves have grown considerably larger these past few days,” said Sor Al. “You seem to improve faster when facing a crisis.”
John nodded, still a little dazed from recent events. Everything had happened too quickly. Crises! He could do with less of those.
“To penetrate the God King’s aura shield you must have used up most of your strength, but you will have to stand firm a little while longer. We must help as much as we can.”
A convoy of jeeps, cars and trucks drove to the factories where the arbiters were besieged on all sides. They had erected crude barricades and crouched behind him while the enemy soldiers sprayed their vicinity with suppressive fire. A few arbiters would stand and fire back every now and then, discouraging the enemy from moving forward. Though they were heavily outnumbered they still held their position. They were doing well considering the circumstances. Holding territory was not the arbiters’ strong suit. Every single shot of theirs killed an enemy. John could see that the human forces were scared and dared not approach. They were locked in a stalemate.
Sor Al’s reinforcement changed the tempo of battle at once. She rained down fire and lightning on the heads of her foes, summoned wind blades that chopped the necks of any foolish enough to approach her, and caused the ground to quake toppling the enemy’s structures. The elves cheered as they saw Sor Al, chasing after the few that were now fleeing the battlefield.
“Let them surrender,” Sor Al shouted, her voice magnified ten times.
Out of the thousands that had besieged them only a handful remained alive to become captives.
“Did you see my weaves?” asked Sor Al.
John shook his head, “My attention was on the battle.”
“You must learn to multitask.”
“I have never seen people or even animals die before in such numbers. It is quite disgusting.” He had been able to stop himself from vomiting. For a twenty first century Earthling this was a horrible sight. For a child raised in the wild this was equally as bad. Sure, he had killed a few earlier, but this was thousands of corpses, still smoldering from Sor Al’s fire. Mutilated body parts lay everywhere. John couldn’t help shivering at the sight.
“War is disgusting,” Sor Al said, “but sometimes necessary. We showed mercy by accepting their surrender. They chose not to claim it.”
“Why didn’t they use their aura shields? They might have stood a chance then.”
“Very few humans can manipulate aura. The few that I have seen are strong beyond belief.”
John and Sor Al drove back to the palace where John was given a large ornate room with a bed that could hold five people. John slept fitfully. He kept thinking back to those burning corpses. What if he had been one of them?
When he woke the next day he saw banshee warcraft screaming in the skies from his balcony. This probably meant that the Swift Retribution was in orbit. The elves had been quick to reclaim their ship. Sor Al then explained the current state of affairs on the planet. The AI of the Swift Retribution had linked with the planet’s crude ‘root way’ and formed a model for the campaign. The ‘root way’ was what the elves called the internet, he realized. The AI had quickly taken over the administration, and organized elections for a new government. The law courts had been revamped and freedmen were already crowding around them to give evidence against their erstwhile owners. Messages had been sent to every territory, from dukedom to county, calling for their surrender. The elves had received no reply from them. War seemed inevitable.
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“The leader thinks that the dukes will probably organize a coalition to fight against us,” said Sor Al. “The common people are oppressed everywhere but they refuse to side with us.”
“Of course they do,” said John. “If my planet was suddenly invaded by aliens I wouldn’t side with them either.” It was common sense.
“The freedmen and slaves stand with us, and they are the majority in the cities,” said Sor Al. “If we free more of them we will quickly gain a foothold. More people will join our cause after that.”
Days passed and the elves did nothing against the budding coalition forming against them. Instead, they chose to fortify the capital, securing supply lines and preparing their equipment. Then, like a hurricane, the elves attacked.
One city after another fell to their sudden onslaught. Slaves were freed, forming a new army the likes of which this planet had never seen. They were numerous and better armed than the soldiers they fought against. The elves had improved their weapons and munitions factories. In another week all the large cities of the world were conquered.
Sor Al and John soon found themselves embroiled in the war. They boarded a blade dancer and were taken to a neighboring duchy. Anti-aircraft cannons fired onto the approaching blade dancers but they could not touch a single one. The few missiles that could not be dodged detonated harmlessly on the shielded exterior. Troops landed on the ground, quickly placing force field generators that covered an expanse of territory. Cloudwalkers took to the skies, raining down destruction on the enemy with their starsticks. Phoneix masters sprayed out fire on the incoming hordes, leaving only charred remains behind. Arbiters flashed in and out of battle, leaving pools of blood wherever they stepped. Dragon keepers fired their heavy cannons, their flaming dragons exploding in every direction.
Sor Al said to John, “This experience in the heat of combat is invaluable. Learn what you can. Observe my weaves.” John activated his perceiver circuit and saw a huge mass of elemental threads being quickly shaped into different patterns. One pattern glowed blue, another red, and yet another brown. Sor Al was multicasting. Fire rained down from the sky, the wind making the flames swirl like mini tornadoes as they burnt the life threads of the enemy soldiers. A tsunami of earth rushed past the anti aircraft cannons, leaving only stone and metal debris in its wake. Shards of ice formed in front of Sor Al, zooming past them at supersonic speeds to snipe the soldiers standing further out.
“Did you see?” Sor Al asked.
“Yes,” said John. “I understand things a little better now.”
“Try your hand at weaving fire now.”
John summoned a fireball and sent it towards the ground by the side of a soldier. His idea was to scare the soldier into surrendering. He still felt a little squeamish about seeing weaves kill a person. It wasn’t like a bullet to the head, or a clean stab to the heart. It was a weapon of mass destruction. The ground exploded. The soldier screamed as he fell down, his legs filled with shrapnel.
“Finish him,” Sor Al said to Lianel who was standing behind her. With a well placed shot between the brows the soldier was dispatched to the afterlife.
“I didn’t mean to do that to him,” John was pale. He’d unintentionally tortured a man he was trying to save.
“Show no mercy to your enemy until he fully submits.”
John’s face grew grim. This was war. The soldiers were prepared to die. It was kill or be killed. Live by the sword, die by the sword. He fired a second fireball, this time accurately aimed at a person’s head. The head disappeared with an explosion of gore.
Sor Al observed the battlefield for a time. A group of elves were laughing and cheering as they slaughtered their way through the human defense. “Some elves glory in the destruction of other races. Their minds are twisted. Long lifespans have corrupted them. You and I aren’t like those elves. We kill only when necessary. Remember that.”
“Are humans as xenophobic as elves?”
“All races are xenophobic to some extent or the other. Humans cannot fully accept even their own. The elves are united at least, perhaps out of necessity. We are too few, occupying only a dozen star systems. War and foolishness have taken a great toll on our people.”
“How many star systems do humans occupy?”
“A hundred and forty six the last time I checked.”
“Do they enslave people?”
“Some do. The empire of Hatish, for example, encourages the slave trade.”
The force field was deactivated as elves and freedmen charged into battle. Lianel’s fiery whip lashed out as a rocket came close. John was prepared, wrapping aura around his ears so that they wouldn’t ring when it exploded. Sor Al harrumphed and sent a wind blade at the man carrying the rocket launcher, cutting his body into two. John could see his insides fall out. “We have completed our mission here. Let us leave.”