Chapter 41: Pit of Despair
The Siege (Blight’s Encampment)
He moved with stealth, aware of the danger, ignoring the thought. He was beyond the point of circumstance, he altered his wishes, changed his desires, deleted his hopes. He was one with death, a mortal with cause, a bearer of final verdict.
“Who go there?”
He answered the beast’s question with steel. There was no going back. He had no wish. He wished only to end the game.
He heard the commotion, discovery of the Orc and subsequent rush to encounter the reason for its demise. He didn’t care. He was hidden within the weeds, one with the dirt, one with the slime.
He heard them as they moved, three Trolls on the lookout, three he would follow, three to lead the way. The idea was simple because of its purpose. Inform the Elfin, set off the explosives and find the one he would kill. The simplicity was the end-game; there wasn’t one. He would not return. He’d settled his mind, chose the outcome and was okay with the decision. If he could give his life for her he could think of no better ending. He was calmed with the thought.
“Anything?”
He heard one of the Trolls ask.
“Nothing.”
An Orc replied and he kept pace, always low, always hidden, always aware he was entering the last phase of his life. The Trolls moved with a purpose, stopping at every watch-point to question the sentries.
“There is an invader within our midst, keep a careful watch for the intruder.”
He knew their tactics because they were always the same. The lesser beasts, those with limited intellect were the gatekeepers, the guards, the dispensable. He didn’t want them. He was after others, two who ranked higher; one a prisoner, one his captor.
The hunt lasted for over an hour as the Trolls made their rounds, informed the sentries and moved on. He followed without being seen, ever present but always invisible. At times he lost track, unable to follow without revealing himself. He waited. Time passed. He moved. He caught sight of them again and took solace in the fact they appeared unaware, unknowledgeable, unknowing they were leading him to his wish. They were ever the simplest of creatures.
Two others followed. They took a different route for they knew his destination. They would not enter the encampment proper because she had forbidden the idea. They knew why. To enter meant death. The interior would be alive with the ones who could not be avoided, the ones who led others who could; the ones in charge of Blight’s army. They were aware the General was on a suicide mission. They believed it possible he could reach his quarry and inform the Elfin. They knew it impossible for him to return. They were attempting to alter the probabilities. They were attempting to change inevitability. They were hopeful they could provide the slightest chance to effect a different outcome. They moved up high and took positions. They waited. They watched. They prayed for his survival.
He was deep in the encampment. Everywhere he looked the enemy could be spotted. He moved through the larger brutes and was within the smaller ranks, the smarter ranks, the deadlier ranks. He followed the Trolls till they led him through the exterior, into the interior, into the devil’s nest itself. The danger was the same but the odds had changed. Where before chaos reigned the opposite held true; order was employed and it made infiltration a much harder process. He waited as the Trolls moved. He almost lost sight again but was afforded a chance, a lucky break, a sentry asleep at his post. He moved within a hairs breath of the mercenary, aware if the man woke he would die.
They viewed the encampment and wondered if he lived. The mass of beings made it impossible to identify individuals. They were heartened by the fact no uproar emerged, no shouts of triumph as a trophy of great import was lifted high for all to see, a trophy which would spell the end of a great man, a mighty warrior, a lover of Nature herself.
He couldn’t move. He was in a tent, a small lean-too abandoned for the moment by whoever called it home. All around him others moved. He could see boots in every direction, heard voices tinged with curiosity at the event which unfolded earlier.
“I heard the Elfin set explosives and the tunnel collapsed.”
“Yep, took some Orcs with it.”
The General smiled. Tweedlewink’s plan had begun. He needed the Elfin’s location, though, for it was instrumental to his desires. He had to inform the little being of the truth. He then hoped the other would understand the implications and act accordingly. He had two missions; both personal but one with greater consequence.
“So, that little Elfin double-crossed Commander Cutter?”
“Yep, it looks that way. Cutter’s pretty upset, he’s got that Elfin locked in a cage overhanging the pit so he won’t do it again.”
So he had his location but was unable to do anything. If he moved he would be noticed. If he were noticed he would die. He was a master swordsman but so were many others in Blight’s employ. If he were seen it would be for the last time.
The two up high knew they were not to enter the encampment to help their general but it didn’t mean they couldn’t assist from afar. They didn’t know precisely where the Elfin was held but they knew for a fact where he was held not.
“You ready?”
“Yep.”
“All right, let’s have some fun.”
The creatures surrounding Castle Nirvana were doing what all creatures did when night fell; they were sitting around talking. For Ogres, the sentences consisted of rather short subject matters.
“Feet hurt!”
“Me hungry!”
Thunk!
“Oleg dead!”
The confusion on the beasts’ faces was understandable. They were not the most brilliant of beings so could be forgiven if they knew not why one of their kind suddenly sported a wooden shaft through his right eye.
Thunk!
The second arrow, though, did the trick and with the demise of Ogre Omar the intended response was achieved.
Roar!
“Wow! They really get riled up, don’t they?”
“Yep, let’s see if we can involve the Orcs now.”
The beasts in the front were in full outrage mode. Unfortunately, they had no idea who to be outraged with so the two archers decided they’d give them a target for their pent up aggression.
“What Ogres’ roaring about?” an Orc inquired.
“Me don’t know?”
Thunk!
“Oh! Now me know!”
And so the Orcs went berserk. They too had no idea where the projectile had originated which was exactly what the archers wanted.
“Let’s move them together.”
“Okay.”
So arrows were fired into the front of the Ogres which caused them to back up. Then arrows were shot into the rear of the Orcs which caused them to move forward.
“This should get interesting real soon.”
“Yep.”
And when the two creatures without love for the other met, the result was rather predictable.
“Me bash!”
“Me stab!”
With the desired outcome achieved the two archers moved along. They had an idea of the approximate location where the Elfin would be held; toward the rear. Since the General was attempting to locate the tiny being they decided to find a nice vantage point to hopefully aid in his quest and maybe, just maybe, help him survive.
He was tired of waiting, impatient and unrestive. It was not the optimum mindset for one who would need stealth to accomplish the job. He told his mind to quiet, slowed his breathing, his heart-rate and sought the inner peace he desired. It was somewhat successful. He began to wonder if the mercenaries in Blight’s employ would ever move. He’d been waiting for a sign, a small sliver of time where he could slide out from the shelter and find Tweedlewink. He needed only a moment to deliver the message. He prayed he would get the chance. His prayers were answered.
“What the…?”
“Oh, for crying out loud!”
The cacophony of noise drew
everyone’s attention. The beasts were in such an uproar Shield thought maybe Mother Nature’s forces were attacking. He discounted the idea as it arose. The reason? He knew she knew. His presence would be missed almost immediately. She was anything but a fool and would surmise exactly his intentions. He knew it as he knew his own heart. He knew it as he knew his own soul. He knew it as he knew he loved her with both.
“Let’s go see what the commotion’s about.”
“Man, I hate this army.”
“Tell me about it.”
So Shield found his reprieve. He slid under the tent and was soon lost in the grass. He had a direction, a point of reference for the one he sought. He had two missions but one came first. The one which was for her. The one he would willingly die to accomplish even if it meant he could not achieve the other. It took another hour to traverse the distance. When he finally found the exact location of the little creature he suppressed a laugh because he first heard the Elfin before actually viewing him.
“You let me out of this cage right now you stinky, slimy Troll!”
He shifted some blades of grass and witnessed the itsy-bitsy, irate little-person berating a beast. A beast he knew only too well. Over the years he’d come across Toodrake so many times he felt a sort of symbiotic relationship with the ugly creature. It seemed every time a loathsome monarch attacked either Mother Nature or one of her allies it would be Toodrake who commanded the beasts. Shield didn’t particularly mind because, while intelligent for a Troll, Toodrake was lacking in what all his kind lacked; imagination.
“You be quiet.”
“Oh, yeah? What if I don’t? What are you going to do about it, you big smelly…!”
Shield again almost smiled. He could imagine the conflicting emotions boiling inside the Troll’s head. He could easily guess Toodrake’s desire to eat the little Elfin but also surmised another fact; Tweedlewink was more important to Blight’s conquest than the Troll. Toodrake was, thus, in a rather odd position. Guard the Elfin but under no circumstances let it come to harm. As he watched the Troll receive unabashed venom from the tiny Elfin another figure appeared. It was one he had never seen before but was etched into his memory for all time. A description from a gambler he beheaded. A gambler who held his love’s locket. A gambler who had described the man approaching with amazing clarity.
“Toodrake!”
The Troll turned.
“Yes, Commander Cutter?”
Shield stiffened at the name. He saw the reason for his love’s demise. He felt the burning bile of hatred surge from the pit of his stomach. His vision turned red. His muscles clenched. His mind became consumed with one thought, one overriding emotion; kill. He readied himself, unsheathed his sword and prepared for the rush. He crouched. He tensed. And then fate intervened.
“Commander Cutter!”
Blight strode into the picture.
The quarry they were standing in was barren of everything. It was nothing but dirt and rock surrounded by growth. In the middle was the tunnel. A tunnel which was full of rubble. Rubble caused by the explosion which collapsed the hole. An explosion created by the being trapped in a cage suspended over the tunnel by a rope. A rope which wound over a beam eructed over the pit. A rope secured with a stake hammered into the ground.
“Yes, Your Highness?”
Shield watched as the man he hoped to kill bowed in the presence of the ruler who dared challenge Mother Nature. A ruler who was the only heir to King Rot. A ruler who was guarded by four Elvin. Elvin who were not known as bodyguards. Elvin who were known as assassins.
“What has happened to the tunnel?”
Shield watched as his enemies spoke.
“The Elfin set an explosive, Your Highness, which collapsed the tunnel. Please, do not worry though, for we will have it open before the sun sets tomorrow.”
The Prince’s eyes went immediately to the tiny creature in the cage.
Tweedlewink stared back with defiance. Shield worried for a second he would speak of the other explosives. He hoped he had not already done so. He believed the Elfin would act as he would; not reveal what was unnecessary until it became so. Tweedlewink was still needed for the tunnel’s excavation. It was Elfin knowledge of explosives which gave him the upper hand. The problem?
“Why is it still alive?”
Any Elfin could do the job.
Shield then knew. The Prince didn’t know the other Elfin were dead. By the look on Toodrake’s face the Troll was also unaware. The answer from the Human, though, was anything but in the dark.
“We need him.”
The Prince didn’t think so.
“No we don’t. Kill him and bring in another.”
A look passed between the Human and an Elvin, the one off to the side, the one who appeared to be in charge of the others.
“No” Cutter replied.
A silence ensued. And then it was broken.
“No? You dare say ‘no’ to me?”
The reaction of the others proved Shield’s thoughts correct. The Troll stiffened and turned to look at Cutter. Cutter responded with a smile. The Elvin responded by drawing their swords. Blight responded with shock because it was not toward the Human they turned their weapons.
“What is the meaning of this?”
And then the Elvin spoke.
“It is for your protection, Your Highness. We will not allow you to threaten your… rather unique position.”
It was obvious Blight had no idea what the Elvin spoke of. It was also obvious the Troll himself held no clue. The others, though, all the others knew what was transpiring.
“They’re taking your army you stupid imbecile!”
Tweedlewink summed it up rather appropriately. After his little outburst the eyes of Prince Blight opened wide with surprise. So did another’s. Another who had a particular interest in the events unfolding. Events which, if not altered, held nothing but disaster. Toodrake was not only the Commander of Troll forces. He held a secondary title. One imparted on him by another who was quite a bit more dangerous than all involved. A figure with the reputation of exceeding cruelty to those who failed him. A figure with a title. The title of King. A King who the Troll swore obedience to. A King who placed his son’s safety directly under Toodrake’s command.
“You would dare!” the Troll hissed as he raised his axe.
It was not toward the Elvin.
“I will do as I wish, Toad.”
It was toward the Human.
As everything was happening in the quarry a couple of particular eyes noticed the activity. It wasn’t difficult. The whole area had been cordoned off. From up high it appeared as a darkened circle surrounded by even darker forces. Everywhere they looked, save one, was filled with creatures and woodland. The evening was settling in and torches began appearing. It wasn’t fully night yet the gloom gave off an eerie feel. When all they noticed was a Troll, those up high paid it little attention. When another figure emerged they paid it more heed. When five more figures entered the center of the area without another creature following they became particularly interested.
“What do we have here?”
“It looks like a private meeting.”
“Yep, that it does.”
They became curious and both centered their full attention on those down below. As their eyes adjusted they noticed a slight discrepancy between the main players.
“It looks like two Humans, four Elvin and a Troll.”
“Yep.”
It could’ve been anyone but they didn’t think so. The reason was the Elvin. And the Troll.
“Why would there be four Elvin surrounding a Human?”
“Why would a Troll be in their midst at all?”
The interaction among the races was the key. Humans disliked interacting with Trolls, Elvin disliked interacting with any.
“I believe we have Blight.”
“I believe you’re right.”
They were aware of Blight’s possible arraignment with the Elvin
because Shield had informed all of what Tweedlewink told him. They believed as the General did; the Prince was playing a very dangerous game if he allowed himself to be guarded by those who held to no higher authority than Death Herself. As they watched, a slight change in posture between all in attendance occurred.
“Did they just pull their weapons?”
“Yep.”
The glint of steel was their only clue. Other than size they couldn’t make out individual characteristics. They could, however, discern the difference between a slender sword and a meat cleaver of barbaric proportions.
“Did the Troll just raise its axe?”
“I believe it did.”
The distance from themselves and the actors in the pit was too great for even their particular skill-set. They had no idea if what they were witnessing was just the random display of weapons or something more important. What they did know, though, was General Shield had entered Blight’s encampment with the intention of warning Tweedlewink. It didn’t take a leap of faith to surmise where Blight was located the Elfin would also be found.
“You thinking what I’m thinking?”
“You thinking the General might be down there and could use a little distraction?”
“Yep.”
So they raised their bows, took aim and let loose.
Shield watched as the Troll stalked the Human. It was an odd sight. Usually a Troll was the victor over a Human. Unless the Human was a professional warrior, like Cutter, then the roles reversed. Unless the Troll was one of the rarer kind, the kind with added intelligence, like Toodrake, then the roles became blurry. As Toodrake advanced with his axe Cutter pulled out a wicked-looking scimitar and appeared to relish the fight. Shield had seen others before. Those who called themselves professionals but were anything of the kind. They ran at the first sign of danger. Cutter was not of those kind. He was of the other kind. The kind which could back up their sadistic remarks. The kind which taunted others into believing they couldn’t. The kind which then proceeded to prove they could.
“I will kill you, Human.”
“I think not, Toad.”
Shield watched as the dance unfolded. He noticed the others doing the same. Apparently the Elvin would allow the Human to prove his mettle. Apparently Blight would allow the Troll to fight for his sake. The anticipation built as both adversaries circled the other. It all played out in front of the pit over which Tweedlewink hung, a pit halfway filled with rubble, a pit with a giant hole awaiting anyone who forgot. The first strike went to Toodrake. He missed. Cutter did not.
“Ooh, that had to hurt!”
The Elfin, obviously, didn’t know who to root for so he chose to side with injury. The slash on Toodrake’s arm was not serious. It appeared the Troll never even felt the gash. Instead of wincing he lashed out with his other arm, an arm attached to a claw, a claw with razor sharp talons, talons which were weapons of their own.
“Ooh, I bet that smarted!”
Cutter showed no reaction to the marks on his forearm where Toodrake had struck. He merely danced a bit to the left and continued the fight. Shield rapidly came to the conclusion the battle would go on for quite some time. He was right and he was wrong.
Thunk!
Thunk!
The two arrows embedded themselves in the dirt about one foot from Blight’s feet. The Elvin were the first to react.
“Take him to safety” their leader said and the three readily complied.
Blight never said a word. His face was an emotion of rage but his voice was never heard. It would’ve been worthless if he did. Three Elvin blades were easily a match for any prince’s outrage, even if the prince held the power of Blight. The fight then took on a completely different dimension. The Elvin entered the fray.
“What are you doing, Blade?” Cutter asked, never taking his eyes from the Troll.
“Ending this before it goes too far.”
Shield then knew. The two were in collusion. They were working for each other in their battle to wrest Blight’s forces from him. What Shield didn’t know was the logic behind their motivation. What could they possibly gain? When King Rot found out he would tear them apart. Wouldn’t he? A thought began to form in Shield’s head. The Elvin were not fools. Cutter, having been placed in command of Blight’s forces, could not be considered a fool. So what was the plan? He began to think as the Elvin thought. They were after one thing and one thing only; the complete subjugation of all subject only to the Lady Death herself. Then he worked backward. If the Elvin took control what could they accomplish? Then it hit him. Blight was still alive. They weren’t going to ransom him or demand he give them power, they were going to use him. Blight held the power of despair. It was most effective against those who already held hatred, sorrow and mistrust in their hearts. The beasts in his army were perfect candidates. The only thing keeping the multitude of monsters under his control was the power he held inside. All thoughts ran through General Shield’s head in an instant as the Troll Toodrake faced not one but two master warriors. Two who knew the game was up. Two who were anything but under-confident.
“You should not have let this get so far” Elvin said to Human as they stalked Troll.
“I have everything under control” Cutter responded while taking another chunk out of Toodrake’s hide.
The Troll, for his part, was proving to be remarkably courageous. It was not generally in their nature to do so. Shield was coming to the conclusion maybe he’d underestimated the big, green, nasty creature when suddenly things took on a different measure. It was the over-confidence of two who believed themselves invincible which brought it about.
“Why did you suspend the Elfin over the pit? He is too important for such displays.”
“It was a necessary precaution. If the beasts did not see me make an example of the runt they might view my command as weak”
As they were talking they were also thrusting which found Toodrake backing precariously close to the pit.
“Well, when we’re done it shall be placed under Elvin guard.”
When the Human nodded his acceptance, Shield knew his time was up. If they placed Tweedlewink under Elvin guard he would never be able to contact him.
He glanced around and surprisingly found they were alone. He was in the middle of the enemy’s encampment, a vast hoard of hellish beings surrounding him on every side yet where they were, at the location of the tunnel where the Elfin was held and the water source contaminated, not a single beast lurked. For a second he found it quite surreal. Then he gathered himself and prepared to do what had to be done.
Toodrake knew his time was up. He was bloodied and bruised from the encounter. He thought he might’ve been able to best Cutter but when Blade entered the fight he was hopelessly overmatched. He was fighting in the defensive. He was stalling for time. He was prolonging life. He thought it somewhat funny. He was going to die protecting a Human. He never, not in the most darkest recesses of his being, believed it could ever come to that. He was facing two master swordsman, teetering on a brink overlooking a pit and wondering how life could be so strange when things occurred which caught him off-balance. It wasn’t his fault. He was a Troll, after all, and multi-tasking not exactly in his arsenal.
The two up high were watching the scene below. They’d fired their first volley and were curious what would happen. They were not surprised when the one they thought to be Blight was quickly ushered away. However, they were surprised when two other figures, one which appeared Human and one Troll, began fighting. They were even further surprised when they noticed the Human holding his own. They were beyond surprised when they saw an Elvin enter the fray. It appeared to be on the Human’s side.
“Well, the Human is definitely not the General.”
“Nope, definitely not.”
The mission given to them by Mother Nature was vague.
“Help the General in any way you can.”
“Yes, Mother.”
They weren’t sure if they were
following her orders because they were too distant to recognize the actual players. They decided to go with their instincts.
“You ready?”
“Yep.”
And they let loose once again.
The General could see the outcome before it arrived. The Troll Toodrake would lose. The Elvin and Human too much for the beast. He watched as the two who held the advantage pressed the issue. The Troll put a good fight but the end would come soon; either by slash or fall. His defenses tiring, Toodrake’s eyes revealed the same. It knew it was doomed. Shield made his decision. He moved.
The Troll glanced behind him. The giant maw of the pit welcomed his arrival. He looked again at his opponents. He couldn’t find a weakness. Every thrust met metal. Every feint employed failed to provide the wanted result. He could feel his time running short, only moments till he would need to make a decision; die by the blade or plunge to his death. To him, it was no choice. A glorious end preferable to an ignoble one. Fate, though, had her own ideas.
As he and the Elvin systematically backed the Troll toward the hole, Cutter felt the surge of excitement, the rush of ending life. He gloried in its power, seduced by its feeling, enthralled with its bloodlust. He reveled in victory not for what he’d won but for what others lost. He could see realization dawn in the Troll’s eyes, knowledge enter its mind as it foresaw the truth and sought to prevent the inevitable. He had seen it many times before and it brought a smile to his lips.
Blade was impassionate, unemotional, a visage of death with forged steel in his grasp. He could feel the sinister desire of the Human beside him, he thought it a prehistoric drive, something the unevolved employed for they held not the advantage of the informed. It didn’t matter. The Human was important. The Prince had elevated one they could control. The beasts would follow the new commander’s orders for they could tell he was one of them, one of the wretched; one of the doomed. It didn’t matter. They would use all to fulfill their desires. They would employ their own if the outcome demanded. Their time had come, their long wait finally at hand. The Infidels would rule all or they would rule none. Even the Guild would fall if they challenged their command. He saw the look in the Trolls eyes and knew the end was near. Then the look changed. And the change altered everything.
Shield closed the distance before anyone noticed. As he began to think he might cover the entire expanse he saw in the eyes of the Troll proof that he wouldn’t. The Troll Toodrake could not prevent his own orbs from indicating what he saw. It didn’t matter. The space was tightened. He entered with a vengeance and the tide turned with his arrival.
While contemplating throwing himself into a suicidal rush to end his life he became aware of something behind his attackers. The speed with which it moved caused him to blink. He couldn’t believe it. In the middle of a battle he blinked. It wasn’t the most surprising event. The most surprising was what became clear when his eyes readjusted; the man everyone knew to be the right-hand of Nature was engaging. The man known as the General, a warrior never bested in battle had joined the fight.
Cutter could see the change. One second the beast was conjuring the courage to do the impossible, the next, its sight centered on something else, something not expected, something behind them. He chanced a glance and shock shuddered his very being. The one he knew all about, the one he thought knew naught about him, was rushing forward, sword drawn, venom in his approach. He screamed.
“Blade, to the rear!”
The Elvin turned to face what the Human cautioned. What he saw tested his own training. He’d been molded and formed to be without fear, without remorse, without emotion. All things could be tampered, slowly but methodically removed from the subconscious. Or so he thought. He realized one could never be suppressed, the one which preceded the others; surprise was ever a confounding reaction.
The two watched as the missiles flew. Their eyes, while probably the greatest save the avian condors, were not so acute they could follow the arrows’ themselves. What they could do was follow their trajectory. They felt the strings release, saw the shafts take flight, determined the paths and allowed their sight to follow through to the location they should arrive.
“Uh-oh.”
“Oh-no.”
When they sighted where they believed their shots would land they saw something emerge; a Human. A Human who moved with a speed unseen by most, something seen by them only a few times; the speed of one they called General Shield. They sat with worry, praying they had not done what countless foes had been unable to accomplish.
Shield moved with a purpose. He saw the reason for his hatred turn and notice his presence. He heard the one named Cutter shout a warning and saw the Elvin react. He made a decision. The Human could wait, the assassin could not. He veered. The Elvin braced for the onslaught. The General was steps away, his sword raised, his eyes on sight, his baser instincts on fire.
The Troll’s mind was reeling. He’d been prepared for death, ready to make his final stand, aware all was lost. And then it wasn’t. Things had taken drastic twists and turns. He’d placed his life on the line for a Human, challenged another Human to save that Human, and was witness to another odd event; a Human was attacking which might just save his life. It was the absurdity which caused his dilemma. He wasn’t prepared for so much irony, he was a Troll, after all. So when he lost his footing he could be forgiven. The only thing which really rankled him, the one thing which really caused him misery, was his lost ability to eat the tiny little creature which was berating him as he fell into the dark void of the pit behind him.
“Have a nice trip you stinky, smelly Troll!”
Cutter watched as the Troll Toodrake made a mistake, shifted its weight in the wrong direction and tumbled into the pit. He turned to face the other, the one he’d heard about, the one he’d brought misery, the one who’d meddled in his affairs, the one who was attacking the Elvin, the one with a reputation of never meeting an equal. He wondered if it were so. He thought for a fraction of allowing the question to be answered. The Elvin was a master. Could it defeat what others could not? He decided against finding out. He needed the Elvin. They were important to his plans. Also, if the one called Blade fell to the General’s sword he wasn’t all too thrilled about encountering the man.
Blade prepared. He was somewhat amazed at what he was encountering. He’d heard of the General, of course, he just didn’t believe the tales told were true. He realized his mistake. The man was a blur of motion. It didn’t matter. He would stake his claim by staking steel in the other’s heart. He tensed. The moment arrived. As he prepared to alter Shield’s attack he was startled by a change of events. An arrow. Another of the flying projectiles sank into the ground, missing his left foot by whiskers. He was a trained assassin. He’d risen through the ranks and even been tapped as one of the few, one of the privileged, one of the fortunate. He did what came natural, what was ingrained, what had been deemed important; he shifted his gaze to take in new circumstances. It wasn’t his fault, he was an Infidel, after all, and was ever wary of outside interference. So when the shaft penetrated the ground his eyes automatically adjusted. It was a mistake.
Shield changed tactics without realization. He’d been prepared to put the Elvin on the defensive, engage in a full-out assault and let fate dictate the outcome. She dictated otherwise. The arrow which landed caused the Elvin to alter sight. He should have been wiser. Nothing, absolutely nothing in the realm could possibly bring more danger than the one before him. The Elvin was foolish. He was also very, very lucky. For when the General took subconscious notice of the Elvin’s change of focus he instinctively reacted and did what came without thought; he knocked the assassin unconscious with sword-handle as he raced by without breaking stride.
Tweedlewink watched with rapt amazement the rapid change of events. Everything happened with such velocity. One second a Troll fought both Human and Elvin. The next, not only was Troll gone but the Elvin was flat on his back after the General removed him with a backha
nd swipe. The Elfin saw the other, the vile contemptible other, react appropriately. Cutter, the one responsible for his people’s plight, was retreating at a rate Tweedlewink thought impossible. He would’ve enjoyed watching the Commander of Blight’s Forces plead for his life. He would’ve relished the opportunity to view the General remove the man’s head. But something else had occurred. The first arrow had startled the Elvin, of that Tweedlewink was sure, because he knew his kind’s other-half and realized no matter how proficient General might’ve been he was not a god. He could not remove an Elvin with such ease without help. The help was the arrow quivering in the ground near the foot of the unconscious assassin. It was not that arrow which caused him worry. It was the other. The one which had flown further. The one which had landed near a spike. A spike where a rope was attached. The rope holding his cage suspended over a pit. A rope which was partially sliced by arrowhead as it passed by.
Cutter had never met anyone quite like the man before him. He realized before the first slash he was not only overmatched, he was playing a game he held not the knowledge to succeed. He threw everything he had at the man, literally everything, for his sword had been disarmed with such speed and ease he found himself throwing anything in his possession at the attacker before him. His knife, his glove, even the coins in his purse were used. Nothing, absolutely nothing altered the man. Everything tossed was swatted aside as though insignificant afterthoughts. He saw in the other’s eyes what he believed those who met him saw in his; death. He was speechless for one of the few times in his life. He prepared for the end. He knew he’d met not only his match but his complete and utter superior. He wasn’t a fool, he wasn’t a coward, he was a realist and he realized his life was over. And then it wasn’t.
“General!”
Shield heard the Elfin but made no indication of doing so. He was boiling inside. The man before him, the man without a weapon, the man stumbling backwards in a desperate attempt to save his life, was in his sights, in his range and about to be in a whole lot of pain. He thought maybe time would ease the memories, blur the images, but he was wrong. Her visage jumped to mind. Her glorious beauty, her outrageous humor, her unabashed love… her bloodied, lifeless body. She had been everything and the piece of trash before him removed her, killed her, murdered her. He’d never felt anything so powerful as the hatred he felt for the one he stalked.
“General!”
Again, he paid the tiny Elfin no heed. He was beyond the physical, above the mental, residing solely in the internal, and soon the man he faced would understand the true meaning of suffering. He saw it in his enemy’s eyes, a pleading for mercy. He smiled. He understood the man held out hope for sympathy. He held none. He held less than none. He held agony and would take his time. He would do it for her. He would avenge her life with the one who took it. He would make amends with the afterlife by providing Death with a new subject. He owed her that.
The thought provoked another.
Another he owed. Another he loved. Another he vowed his life to. Another who required his service.
“General!”
He took a step back. It wasn’t necessary. The man on the ground, the man who’d lost his balance and landed on his backside was in no position to offer resistance. It didn’t matter. Shield was anything but foolish. Even a wounded rodent would fight if given an opening. He saw in Cutter the type of man who could, and should, be feared above all; a man without a soul. He glanced ever swiftly. He returned his eyes to the one he reviled most. He made a choice. He moved.
Tweedlewink saw the end coming. The rope attached to the cage was frayed. It was quickly unwinding and soon he would follow the Troll Toodrake into the great unknown. He wasn’t quite prepared. He held one more chore to do, one more gift to deliver and needed to know the truth; were his people safe? He couldn’t blow the explosives if they weren’t. He’d wired it all, the whole encampment. If he went through with the deed and his people still held hostage they would pay the price for his transgression. He couldn’t allow it. He needed knowledge. He needed to know what the General knew. He yelled twice and was ignored. He watched as the greatest warrior in Nature’s army easily bested two master swordsmen. He watched as the great man stalked another of a different measure. He watched and saw the other, the loathsome other, come to the realization he would die. He enjoyed the thought. He again glanced at the rope. He pulled Nature’s amulet from under his tunic and held the treasure in his tiny hands. He yelled again. The third time was the charm.
Cutter watched as his life was given pause. His adversary, the man who led Mother Nature’s forces had suddenly altered his actions. He’d seen death. The General was not subtle; his eyes told all. Cutter was aware the man knew of the past. He didn’t know how but was positive Shield held the knowledge of who killed his love. He watched as the one who so easily dispatched him of his weapons shifted and took flight. For a second he sat there, mesmerized by two things. First, the speed of the man. Second, the reason for the man’s decision. The cage, the one holding the Elfin was on the brink of falling, the rope untwined, a single thread holding it aloft. He reached his feet as the General left his. He watched as the warrior leapt and grabbed at the rope. He realized his life would be spared. He could not see the cage, it had dropped like a stone when the rope finally gave way. He could see the aftermath, however, and could easily picture the scene. The General was laid out, his sword on the ground, his arms reaching into the pit, his body tensed with the weight of the cage he held by end of rope. Cutter made a quick decision. He could pick up the sword and attack or he could retreat. The General was inside his perimeter. He had no escape. The decision came down to possibility. If he chose to attack would Shield let go the rope and fight back? Cutter wasn’t a fool. Why take the chance? He fled, dragging Blade along, opting to get help and rid himself forever of one he wished never to encounter again.
Shield held on, but only barely. The Elfin was not the problem. The cage was. It was heavy, he was flat on the ground with nothing to help him hold on. He dug his toes as hard as he could but gained no hold. He was slowly sliding over the edge, the weight of the cage pulling him with it. If he let go with one hand he knew he could not hold on with the other. If he let go altogether he would survive but he knew not if the same were true of the Elfin. The pit was black, he could see nothing except what was right in front of his eyes. The rope, the cage, the tiny creature inside. A creature looking back with fright and something else, something surprising; curiosity.
“Hello, Tweedlewink.”
“Hello, General.”
The Elfin thought it strange the differing reactions of those in peril. Some panicked, some froze, some wailed and some, the rare few, accepted their fate and met it head on. The General was one of the few. He’d witnessed the man go from bloodthirsty conqueror to courteous savior in the span of moments. He was witness to something else, also.
“Can you hold it?”
“No, little one, I’m afraid I cannot.”
Tweedlewink realized the problem. He knew fact when he saw it and reached a conclusion.
“Then let me go.”
Shield saw the look in the Elfin’s eyes and was intrigued. He found it odd people, no matter the race or being, could never be judged visually. The little being, the tiny little creature was willing to give his life so another could survive. It was not always so. The General had seen much larger men, experienced warriors, balk at the thought of death. The Elfin, no taller than a boot, stood much higher in Shield’s eyes. He wished he could get to know the Elfin more but had a slight problem; they were beginning to slide faster and he still had a chore to perform.
“I cannot, Tweedlewink, for I must hold on so you can do what must be done.”
The Elfin knew. He could read it in Shields eyes even if the words had not been spoken. But he needed to hear the truth.
“They broke the pact?”
Shield, bearing the burden of the cage’s weight, knew he had little time. In moments his prec
arious perch would give out and they would fall into the black pit. His muscles were straining with the load, his joints aching with the effort but still he found it difficult to find the words. The physical was hard enough to bear, the emotional sometimes too heavy a burden.
“I’m sorry.”
Tweedlewink closed his eyes for a second. When he reopened them tears fell. When he again clasped the amulet they disappeared. He looked into the eyes of Shield and realized another truth; the General had come to tell him personally, he hadn’t sent another. He then knew then the real reason one who commanded so many others would choose himself; he was there on a suicide mission. He would not send others to their death if he were able to avoid it. He was there to commit the ultimate act for the one he loved. He was there for Mother Gaia Nature herself. The Elfin knew, everyone knew, for she could not, would not, hide her feelings from those she loved. Tweedlewink had seen it in her eyes; the unending love for the man named Shield. He’d also seen it reciprocated; the General’s undying devotion to the woman he desired. He was struck by another fact which both saddened and strengthened his resolve; the man bearing his weight, the man hanging on for his life, was willing to die so Nature could live. He thought he could do the same.
“It’s been nice knowing you, General.”
“You too, Tweedlewink.”
And General Shield watched as two things happened simultaneously. The Elfin closed his eyes as the amulet around his neck, clasped in his tiny hands, began to glow. At the same time he lost his battle, his toe-hold let go, and they plunged into the darkness of the pit dug for Blight’s despair.