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Rated: 18+ · Book · Fantasy · #2022966
"Druid, listen very carefully before I slit out your tongue." - This item has chapters!
#837745 added January 3, 2015 at 2:59pm
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Chapter 6
Chapter 6

Lord Ailus chuckled as his finger traced the red line on his map. He could see his daughters lounging on his vanity and bed looking at him with raised eyebrows. They must think him crazy; even they didn’t understand his master plan. That was fine though, it made sense to him.

Ciolia looked at her red nails and began to file them each individually into a sharp point using a piece of metal she’d removed from her Father’s draw. Carlia looked at the map, the corner of her mouth shifting into a sly smile, “Tell us again Father how you are going to make that Dwarf King fight his own brother for us.”

The fire in the corner of Ailus’ chamber had flickered out; the only light that was left was the glow from the fire wisps above, which caused flickering silhouettes to appear. Even though Lord Ailus stood still, he felt more like his shadow which refused to stop dancing across the wall. His shadows enveloped the room as the many fire wisps surrounded him with their light, and he looked back at his plan.

Ailus pursed his lips and walked around the battle map. Echoes bounced around the rectangular room from his footsteps on the marble floor. “I have a way to get our refined moonstone weaponry.”

Ciolia cocked her head sideways to look at her sister, “We’re listening.”
“Get on with it then,” Carlia spat.

“Hand me that metal shard,” Ailus said. Ciolia stopped filing her nails and through the metal at him, which he caught just before it punctured his eye. “I’ll show you girls again... in an even simpler way than before. Come here.” Ailus manoeuvred past the golden sheet that no longer was covering his main map, and was now resting on the floor. He sat down in front of an oak draw to the left side of his room and dug the shard into the wooden top.

“This is the wall I’ve built,” he ripped the knife across the wood scaring the surface. On one side he drew a box and labelled it elf. “This is my city Kheissa.” Next to it he etched a small cross, “This is Cleawood tunnel.” The other side of the wall he drew two more crosses symbolising tunnel entrances and stopped. Smiling he taunted “Anyone figured it out yet?”

Ciolia placed her right hand on his shoulder and clenched down hard. “Carry on.”

To the bottom of his drawing he drew another box and labelled it dwarf. “This is Volodars kingdom, Laeroth. By here, there’s a small desert with a cave.” He carved another x close to Laeroth. “Four tunnels. Three in our lands. One in Volodars.”

It was Ciolia’s eyes that widened first and she removed her hand from Ailus’ shoulder and peered closer onto the crude map. “You’ve exploded the entrance to Cleawood tunnel; the only cave on our side of the wall.”

“Very good,” Ailus purred. He ripped through the cross marking Cleawood tunnel, and etched two lines from the caves the other side of the wall to the one in Volodar’s desert. “Thanks to this tunnel system...there’s a direct route to him. It’s sad really that there happens to be infected that side of the wall too, with their only exits through the caves.”

Carlia and Ciolia snickered. “They’ll pour into Volodar’s lands,” Ciolia’s eyes filled with glee. But Carlia shook her head. “There may be a direct route for the infected to storm through. But there’s only one hundred or so infected behind that wall at the moment. How is that going to take on a whole army?”

“Good question,” Ailus began again. “Remember the banquet when I allowed three infected to attack us? Remember just how... unprepared and frightened the people were?” Ciolia nodded her head in agreement. “Well, it’ll have the same effect. The dwarves will be caught unprepared when I release them into their lands and they’ll need help. They will call for aid, and we will be there to help them. Once we’ve dealt with the few straggling infected that survived, Volodar will have no choice but to help us in our war against Orrian. After all, we will have... saved him. ”

“Wait. How will you ensure the infected all enter simultaneously, and not just the odd one or two brutes here and there?”

“I’ve blocked the tunnels mid way between mine and Volodar’s lands, and I can reverse that with a simple bit of explosives that I already have charged. When it explodes the infected will run towards the noise like a primordial bee to honey,” Ailus got up and walked towards the oak door.

“You speak as if the infected numbers will grow to a great size,” Ciolia spurted.

“The numbers will grow. Thanks to the food the wizard made, this is where my plan gets... interesting,” Ailus smiled.

Before Ailus could continue, there were heavy bangs sounding on the door. Intrigued by the racket, Ailus opened it. There stood Thallan holding a dazed Volodar and Klaern by the scruff of their necks after using their heads as door knockers. Ailus was taken aback, but regained some composure when the dwarves were dropped to the ground in front of him.

Thallan frowned, and the wrinkles on his forehead creased. Even though he was the head of the guard and well built, he was aging quickly. His grey, spiky hair brushed the top of the door frame as he entered Ailus’ room. “I knew we shouldn’t have trusted these two.” Volodar dragged himself to his feet, only to be kicked back down to the hard floor by Thallan’s metal armoured shoe. Wheezing painfully, Volodar desperately gasped for air; he had been winded.

“Enough, that’s no way to treat our guests of honour,” Ailus said. Flicking his wrists to signal Thallan to leave, he helped Klaern to his feet, “I do sincerely apologise for this. Dwarves, what has gotten you into so much trouble?” Thallan ripped his knife from the sheath on his belt and pulled Volodar’s thick hair back, rage in his eyes. “No! Leave us!” Ailus roared. With a wave of his hand Thallan dropped the dwarf and left, throwing his knife to the ground as he did so. It scratched the marble floor as it skidded, and screeched until it hit the wall.

Klaern stepped back and removed Ailus’ other hand from his shoulder. “What are you doing in that garden? We saw...”
“We saw some beautiful plants, aye,” Volodar interrupted. “Some real fine specimens too didn’t we lad. Although we were sure some of the plants must have been foreign. We took the guide book from the statues arms to see what plants were growing you see? My Naesala loved plants as we live underground,” Volodar laughed. “We do apologise, we didn’t know we weren’t allowed to borrow the book from the podium.”

Silence.

Ailus laughed and clasped both dwarves by the shoulders once more, “That’s what he had you in for? Not as sharp as he was when he was younger! Come on, I’ll show you to your carriages. I’m sure you’re desperate to get back to Laeroth. I hope you send guards to Calenrock pass for me, you would do me a great honour.”

***


The pebbled road through the forest seemed more dangerous than it had when Volodar and Klaern arrived. But they were grateful to be out of Kheissa with their heads still attached to their stocky bodies. The forest was darker now, even though it was only noon and the sun was only starting to drop leaving a scarlet splash across the sky. The leaves weren’t as lush as they were, and instead looked brown and crinkled and the white trunks were greying. It was strange as they were leaving elven country; there were no fire wisps to be seen now.

Through the trees on his right, Klaern could clearly make out a metal fence surrounding a field. They’d seen it from their balcony earlier this morning, and tall, orange crops grew inside. At the top of each plant there was a plump looking sac surrounded by sharp thorns.

“They must be the plants that wizard was on about,” Klaern had both hands firmly gripped to the carriage door, and he stuck his head out the window to get a clearer look.

“Aye lad, that’s what I saw in the journal just before Thallan barged in.” Volodar was a sickly pale colour, like a snowdrake lizard found in Laeroth mountains.

“Why didn’t you let me say what we’d seen in that shed?” Klaern looked at his Father and shook his head.

“You fool boy. If I’d let you babble on about what we’d seen, we’d both be dead rotting in the dirt. Or worse put in an elven cell. I shudder to think of elven cells with the magic they cast on you. Aging slowly like them to spend hundreds of years imprisoned. We’ll discuss what we saw in that journal when we get home to Laeroth.”
“But--.”
“That’s enough. We’ll talk to the grand council; see what they make of it before we make any rash decisions.”

There was something niggling at the back of Klaern’s mind. He was sure Ailus winked at Thallan when he instructed him to leave. Why else would he not have heard what Thallan had to say? Luckily Ailus didn’t want to listen; they’d have been in big trouble otherwise. Klaern couldn’t stop thinking about how rushed their departure was. Ailus hurried them out of his chambers and the carriages were pulled up and ready to leave by the time they were in the courtyard.

Both dwarves flew forward as there was a sudden halt. There was a noise as the horses pulling the cart behind stopped and the line of carriages skidded to a standstill. Walking down the center of the road towards the carriages was a blur of rambling men and women. The high pitched wine of babies could be heard, and the group parted walking either side of the dwarves.

They must be refugees from Calenrock Klaern thought; Ailus said he’d been giving people shelter. But where was he going to keep all these people?

Blood splattered over the side of the carriage. Screams erupted into a chorus of death, and the people started falling to the ground. Bangs could be heard as people were viciously thrown into the sides of the horse and carriages. In the shadows of the trees, creatures were moving. Klaern tried to open the door, but Volodar pulled him back as a sharp spike flew past the window and pierced a nearby woman. She flew backwards, and a sharp snap sounded as she landed. Neighing horses rose on their back legs. The carriages trembled.

A sharp knife looking object pierced through the cart. Klaern let out a scream of agony. Blood pumped over the white, carriage seat from his thigh and he felt his vision turning black. Collapsing over the seat he saw Volodar shaking him. “No boy, come on. Come on lad!”
© Copyright 2015 EllisRosser (UN: rossers.138 at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/books/entry_id/837745