Chapter 8: A Daring Rescue

         Grom and Ragefist led the horse-drawn carts through the open streets of the town of Sagarian. They passed several farmhouses before they found their way toward the heart of the city, and they saw and heard nothing along the path. The only thing they could hear was the eerie silence that drifted throughout the town.

         “I don’t see anyone at all. Maybe they cleared out when they heard we were coming,” Ragefist whispered down at Grom. He stopped his march and glanced around the town.

         “They have to be here somewhere,” Grom said. He stepped around to he cart and pulled his pack out. Ragefist moved beside him and blinked as Grom searched through his bag for something. A grin spread across Grom’s face as he pulled out a handful of small stones. “I knew these would come in handy one day!”

         “What are you going to do with some rocks?” Ragefist asked, raising his eyebrow.

         “Just wait and see,” Grom said. He raised his hand and drew it back as if he were about to throw the rocks, but he stopped and stared over his shoulder at Ragefist. “You might want to cover your ears.”

         Grom gave the rocks a mighty hurl toward the center of the town near a flowing fountain. As the flew through the air, Grom cupped his hands over his ears. Ragefist hesitated but covered his ears as well. When the rocks landed along the ground, they shattered in a wave of sparking white energy, and a thunderous boom followed each explosion. Even with their ears shielded, the sound was almost unbearable. When the booming ended and the ringing in their ears began to fade, they removed their palms from over their ears and heard the distant howling and barking of a dog. Lights appeared at many of the windows of the surrounding homes, and the sound of footsteps and shouting came from down the street.

         “What the hell were those things?” Ragefist asked. He drew his sword and looked around frantically. Torch lights rounded a corner, heading in their direction.

         “I can’t explain it right now!” Grom yelled. He pulled his axe free and with a swift swing cut the ropes securing the horses to the cart. The beasts cried and bucked, and Grom did his best to calm them. “Give me a boost!”

         “What? Are you insane? This horse is way too big for you!” Ragefist shouted, throwing his arms up into the air.

         “Damnit, lad, just do it!” Grom repeated, motioning to the figures wielding torches and swords that were heading straight for them.

         Not wanting to argue the point any further, Ragefist locked his fingers and knelt down to act as a step for Grom. He stepped in Ragefist’s hands and grabbed hold of the horse’s mane, kicking his leg wildly to get on top of it. “Now what do we do?”

         “Get on the other horse! We’re going to take a little ride around town!” Grom called down to him.

         “But I don’t know how to ride a horse!” Ragefist protested.

         “That makes two of us, lad!” Grom replied.

         Ragefist jumped up onto the other horse’s back, barely able to kick his armored leg across the beast. He grabbed two handfuls of the beast’s hair and pressed his body tightly against him. “How am I supposed to make it move?”

         “Try kicking it with your feet. I always see riders do that!” Grom suggested. He swung his legs out and back inward, and his horse bucked upward, nearly sending him falling backward to the ground. Grom held on tight and pulled the beast’s mane to the side, forcing him to turn and gallop back the way they came.

         “I knew I should have tried out for the cavalry instead,” Ragefist grumbled. He pushed himself to sit up with shaky hands and kicked his steed hard. The beast cried and took of straight ahead. “No! Wrong way! Oh crap!”

         “Those are the travelers I told you about!” a voice called from the near distance. Ragefist couldn’t hear the reply over the beating of the horse’s hooves that raced furiously across the cobblestone road. He leaned forward and clenched his eyes closed as he raced right for the group of marching soldiers.

         “Look out!” a voice shouted as he galloped past. Ragefist opened his eyes again and looked back to see a gathering of a half dozen elven soldiers laying sprawled out on the ground. One of them raised his sword and screamed so loud that his voice nearly cracked. “Don’t let him get away!”

         Ragefist returned his attention ahead of him just in time to see his horse rushing toward the side of a building. He pulled on his mane, and the horse shifted its weight to the right and ran down a thin stretch between two houses. Ragefist rode into a small stretch of field and pulled back on the horse’s mane to try and get it to stop.

         “Stop! Please just stop! This would be so much easier if we had bought reins, too!” Ragefist cried.

         As if the horse finally understood his order, it slowed down to a trot and then to a stop. It shook its head wildly and let out an angry cry. Without a second thought, Ragefist jumped down to the ground and grabbed hold of his wobbly knees, trying desperately to stop his body’s shaking. The horse trotted away from him and toward a patch of taller grass, kneeling its head for a bite to eat.

         “Yeah, you go eat. I’ll just stand here and catch my breath,” Ragefist said, panting.

         “There he is! Capture him!”

         Ragefist looked up just in time to see the group of elven soldiers emerge from between the two houses. Their countenances were a boiling mix of anger, frustration, and embarrassment, and Ragefist knew that he had no where to run. He drew his sword out of instinct and clutched it tightly with both hands, hoping that they might turn and retreat by his act of dumb bravery. The only response he elicited from them was a slight chuckle from the elf at the head of the column. The elf’s eyes sparkled with the thrill of his looming victory. Ragefist took several steps backward, awaiting his fate.

         A rousing cry of battle broke through the silence, and from the distance charged Grom on horseback, one hand holding onto the horse’s mane and the other thrusting his axe upward into the air. The elves turned all at the same time, and Grom jumped from the back of his horse and barreled like a swinging battering ram into the line of soldiers, knocking them down like lined up planks of wood. Grom buried his axe into the back of one of the elves and yanked it back in a spray of red mist.

         “Come on, lad!” Grom shouted, waving his arm toward himself.

         “It’s about time, Captain!” Ragefist shouted back, rushing around the jumbled mess of flailing bodies.

         “I wouldn’t be complaining right about now. We have to find a way to draw them away from the city,” Grom said between huffs. He grabbed Ragefist’s wrist and yanked him away from the elves before they could gather themselves from the ground.

         “After them! Anyone! Get the hell off me and chase them down!” Grom heard one of the elves call from behind them.

         They rushed back between the two houses, leaving the two horses to graze lazily on the grass. When they came upon the center of the town again, they heard voices and saw blazing red torch light approaching right toward them. Turning town the path they had come, hey ran as fast as they could away from the city and toward the road out of town. As they neared their destination, they came to an immediate halt paces away from more soldiers that blocked their exit from Sagarian.

         “Where the hell did they all come from?” Ragefist asked, raising his sword into the air once again.

         Grom did not answer his question. He stared fixedly ahead of him at the group of armed elves. At first, he believed that the figure standing in front of the troops was cloaked in black, but as he looked on, he noticed that the figure wore no such disguise. The figure’s skin appeared as black as coal, and snowy hair fell to the figure’s waist, tucked behind pointed ears. Grom stared into two milky, vacant pools and let a gasp slip through his parted lips. Standing before a group of elvish warriors was a threateningly beautiful dark elf woman.

         “I want them taken alive for questioning,” the dark elf spoke in a soft, yet brooding voice. She stared back at Grom as if she were examining him. Grom felt cold where her eyes passed over him. He blinked his eyes twice to test whether they were playing tricks on him, but when the visage of the dark elf failed to fade away, the realization remained encased in his icy mind.

         Ragefist grabbed Grom by the shoulder and pulled him backward. Grom spun around and ran after Ragefist back into the town, but they made it only a few paces before the torch lights from the town started to move closer. Ragefist stood with his back to Grom, holding up his sword and awaiting those marching from inside the town. Grom returned his gaze to the dark elf woman, who stalked forward with a gleaming grin. His arms locked in place with his axe in front of him like a shield.

         Those marching in from the town came within a close enough distance to distinguish their elvish faces. Ragefist recognized the same elf that had ordered his capture before Grom saved him, and his mixture of moods swirled together into a focused look of disgust and hatred. He held his sword forward with the intent to come in for the kill, but as he raised his weapon in an advance, a dagger flew through the air and struck him in the side of the neck. He let out a pathetic whimper and fell to the ground. Those soldiers following him stopped dead in their tracks and dropped their mouths open in awe.

         Deathwish ran with a lightning quick vengeance into the field and cut down two elvish warriors with two clean swings of his monstrous axe. Garz lagged behind him, clutching another dagger in his grubby hands. They joined Grom and Ragefist at the center of the action and stood to either side of them, looking out at the group of soldiers.

         “I was wondering if you two were going to get here on time,” Grom commented.

         “Don’t tell me that you had doubts,” Garz said, hacking and spitting on the ground at his feet, “We’d never be late for a party!”

         “I hate to say this, but I don’t think we can beat this many soldiers,” Ragefist said.

         “Then let’s make as many as we can wish that they had never stepped foot in Sagarian,” Deathwish said with a sadistic growling in his throat. He lifted his axe with both hands and charged headlong back into the fray. Bellowing a mighty roar that reminded Grom of a lion on the hunt, Deathwish caught the first unsuspecting soldier off-guard and removed his head from his shoulders with a single blow. Deathwish dug his feet into the ground and shook drops of blood from the end of his axe. “Who’s next?”

         A moment passed where no one moved a muscle, and after it passed, the elven soldiers charged forward with weapons drawn. Giving one another a mutual nod, Grom, Ragefist, and Garz rushed off in different directions to face off against the insurmountable odds.

         Ragefist ran straight into the center of the town, bringing up his weapon to deflect a blow from an eager swing of one of the soldiers. Sending the elf’s blade to the side, Ragefist knocked him to the ground with his shoulder and raised his weapon in time to block another blow. Yet another elf soldier ran up to help his comrade, and Ragefist barely managed to jump backward away from the sword’s arc. Another swing came his way, and Ragefist brought his own blade up against it. They fought back and forth for a moment, but Ragefist pushed him back with a powerful kick, sending him barreling back into the other elf and dropping them on top of one another.

         While the rest of them rushed off into battle, Garz slowed to a jog and looked at the dagger in his right hand. Ahead of him ran an elf wielding a bladed weapon that appeared much different from the rest. Instead of a normal blade, his weapon had two blades, one on either end, with a wide handle for both hands. Garz’s eyes widened as the elf moved away from the crowd right in his direction. Unsure of what to do, Garz sent his dagger spinning through the air toward his adversary. Seeing the blade flying right for his chest, the elf began spinning his dual-ended sword like a propeller. Before the dagger could make its new home in the elf’s chest, a gust of wind blew forward, as if the sword itself had created it, and knocked Garz’s weapon out of the air.

         “You’ll have to do better than that, dwarf!” the elf shouted and thrust forward with his blade. Garz ducked and tumbled underneath the charge, rolling by his dagger and lifting it up. With a quick turn, Garz threw his dagger at the elf’s lower back, digging through his leather armor. The elf stumbled forward, and the sudden jolt of pain sent him falling on top of his own sword. While one end jabbed into the ground, the elven warrior slid down the other end and hung unmoving.

         “How’s that for better, you silly elf boy?” Garz boasted and laughed out loud.

         Deathwish stood waiting for the soldiers to come to him. The first brave soul came in swinging his longsword in a wide arc, but Deathwish stepped aside and caught him in the gut with his axe. Another came forward moments later to try and catch him off guard, but Deathwish bashed him aside with the blunt of his axe. The others among the crowd stopped and whispered to one another. All at once they charged and caught Deathwish by surprise. He swung his blade to knock one of them away, but they all jumped at him and tried to grab hold of him. Deathwish continued to try and push them back, but the numbers soon became too much, and they had him down on the ground.

         Grom charged into the line of soldiers that blocked his way to the dark elf woman and burst between two defenders, lowering his head and pushing a new path to the other side and his goal. The dark elf stood waiting, her hand resting on a coiled rope at her side. As Grom came within a short distance, she yanked on the coil of leather and snapped it forward like a whip. It wrapped around Grom’s leg, and she gave it a hard enough tug to send Grom falling onto his back and knock his weapon from his reach. The sudden fall drove the air from his lungs, and he sat up groaning and rubbing the back of his head. He opened his eyes and saw the blurred image of the dark elf woman standing over him.

         “I will enjoy torturing you most of all, Grom Greystone, hero of Feldos,” the dark elf whispered as if she wanted it to be a secret between just the two of them.

         Grom did not want to be part of any of her secrets. The only thing he wanted to know was the reason behind a dark elf leading a group of high elves. Dark elves were the sworn enemies of all high elves; Grom learned this first hand from the elder elves of Anon. Yet there they were fighting alongside one another in a strange pact to control the port city of Sagarian.

         The dark elf woman ran fingers along the side of Grom’s face, tickling his skin with sharp fingernails. Her smile smirk fading in an instant, she slapped Grom hard across the face. A rush of stinging warmth spread across his entire face. Grom scowled and scrambled to get to his feet, but a group of elven soldiers grabbed hold of his arms to keep him down on the ground.

         The elves pulled Grom from the ground and drug him around toward the center of town. Grom raised his head to see Deathwish, Garz, and Ragefist being held captive by the assembled soldiers. At least a dozen dead bodies littered the ground, but their valiant attempt at saving Sagarian came to a sudden halt.

         Rising shouts of elvish echoed from behind them, but Grom could not make out the foreign words. A wave of heat hit the back of his neck, causing a layer of sweat to roll down his face almost instantly. Agonizing screams and the smell of smoke drifted to Grom’s ears and nostrils. The elves holding him captive released him and pushed him onto the ground. Crawling back to his feet, he turned around to get a good look in the direction that the elves had run.

         Outside of the town stood a group of human soldiers brandishing swords and spears, and standing in front of them was a man in bright blue robes, holding a wooden staff with a sapphire gemstone glowing over his head. Sparks of fire and wisps of smoke floated around the jeweled end of his staff. Bodies of elven soldiers rested on the ground, their bodies charred and some still burning. Tallan waved his staff forward, and the army of soldiers behind him charged headlong into the heart of the city.

         The clashing of metal against metal and the cries of war and defeat rang throughout the once quiet little town of Sagarian. Blades met with armor and bodies collapsed to the ground. During the uproar, Grom gathered his axe off the ground and rushed over to check on his companions. Most of the elves had left them behind to meet the soldiers of Flamecrest in battle. He held his hand down for Garz, who looked up at him reluctantly but grabbed hold of him, and pulled him up to his feet. Ragefist walked up beside them and rubbed the back of his neck.

         “What are soldiers from Flamecrest doing here?” Ragefist asked.

         “They must have gotten word about the attack on the town,” Grom said. He looked around and scratched the top of his head. “Where is Deathwish?”

         “Freedom for the righteous and death to the wicked!” Deathwish called out as he ran into and disappeared amongst the fray.

         “That answer your question?” Garz asked. He walked over to the elf that he had killed and pulled the dual-bladed sword from the ground, kicking the bloody body from the other end. “I think I’ll be taking this, pointy-ear. I doubt you’ll be using it anyway.”

         “Yes, I suppose not,” Ragefist said, his face twisting into a disgusted frown.

         “Come on! We have a city to protect!” Grom shouted. He raised his weapon and ran after Deathwish into the battle.

         “You heard him,” Ragefist said, nudging Garz with his boot. They nodded at one another and then rushed back into the battle.

         *                    *                    *

         When the first glimmer of sunlight rose to drive away the night and the cold, silence returned to the town of Sagarian. The soldiers of Flamecrest patrolled the streets, cleaning up the bodies and destruction that had been caused. The terrified townsfolk emerged from their homes to survey the damage and lend a hand wherever they could.

         Celebratory cheers and laughter poured from the windows of the town’s largest tavern like the ale into the glasses of all the happy townspeople. Sitting in the center of all the attention was Garz, whose table was lined with empty mugs.

         “More drinks for this brave warrior!” one patron called out.

         “Anymore drinks and we’ll be tapped out!” the bartender called back.

         Laughter rose up again as a waitress in a tight, low-cut top delivered another round of drinks. Garz slammed down the mug he already had in his hands and grinned up at the lovely lady.

         “It was nothing! We would have had them even without the soldiers from Flamecrest! They showed up too little too late, but I don’t mind sharing the glory with them, because that’s the kinda dwarf I am!” Garz shouted. He paused to loose a mighty belch that tasted of ale and cooked chicken. He wiped his arm across his mouth and sighed contentedly. “You shoulda seen those cowards run from the town! They know now not to mess with Garz Steeltooth! I even took one of then pointy-ear’s weapon as a trophy!”

         “Let’s see the weapon!” a voice called out.

         “Show us!” another patron cried.

         Garz grinned and pulled his chair back. Standing on shaking legs, he lifted the two-ended sword into the air, admiring the twinkling of the candlelight against its blades. “I think I’ll call her Galewind!”

         “Three cheers for Garz and Galewind!” another patron cried.

         The cheering rose again, and Garz smiled at the attention. Whether or not it was deserved was irrelevant. Deathwish stood against a wall in a dark corner, keeping away from all the noise and the cheers. He slowly shook his head and closed his eyes. Anyone who might have taken notice would have only seen a skeletal face with empty and sunken holes for eyes.

         Outside of the tavern, Ragefist helped with the cleaning efforts. Having most of the debris and bodies cleared away, he went out to check on the two horses that they had left behind. Both horses rested back behind the two houses in the grass with their eyes closed.

         “Oblivious to everything happening around here. I wish I could be the same way.”

         He walked back into the center of town and caught a glimpse of a figure sitting off alone in the distance. Moving past the town and toward the docks, he realized that Grom sat cross-legged and stared out into the water. Ragefist faltered for a moment, but he took light steps up beside him and sat down with his knees up against his chest. He didn’t ask Grom what was wrong, because deep down he knew the answer he would receive.

         “I haven’t seen a dark elf since I defeated Astaroth in Mortillus, and I had hoped that I would never lay eyes on another one ever again. I was completely frozen when I saw her. I didn’t know what to think. It’s like I was reliving the dark memories that I have been trying to put into my past,” Grom said at length.

         Ragefist remained silent. He stared out at the rolling waves and searched through them for some answer, but the soothing sounds of the water gave no reply.

         “What does this mean, Ragefist?” Grom asked, cocking his head to the side, “Why would the elves be taking orders from a dark elf? Where did this dark elf even come from? Why were they trying to take over such a small town? It doesn’t make sense to me.”

         “I don’t know, Captain,” Ragefist replied in a quiet voice.

         Grom suddenly thought of Prescott and his infinite wisdom. He would have had some sort of answer. If he wouldn’t have known, Isac would have surprised the group with knowledge that he had learned from his studies. Were they still alive, he might have gotten more of an answer than “I don’t know.”

         He stood up and stretched out his arms. Ragefist lifted his head from the moving waves and watched Grom turn away.

         “Where are you going?” Ragefist asked.

         “Perhaps I’ll find the answers to my questions by getting some rest,” Grom replied.

         “Not a bad idea,” Ragefist said. He pulled himself up and yawned. “I could use some rest myself. What are our plans for tomorrow?”

         Grom tried to come up with a master plan, but he found those hated three words slip from his mouth. “I don’t know.”

ID: 1115750   (Rated: 13+) Chapter 9: Seeking Answers  Grom and his companions search for answers in the aftermath of the attack. by The Lemon