Richard Tuttle - Elvangar

“Save your arrows,” he said as he pushed by.

The Torak marched along the corridor striking a killing blow to each hellsoul as he rose. Within moments the hallway was thick with smoke.

“Check every room,” ordered the Emperor. “I want to know that they are all dead. If you find one alive, call for me. The Sword of Torak will vanquish them.”

The elves began searching the rooms. The Emperor turned and headed for the girls’ room. He threw open the door just in time to see an empty cloak fall to the floor.

“How did you do that?” Marak asked Halman.

“Decapitation,” answered Halman. “We kept killing the same three over and over again. When I decapitated one, he disappeared in a puff of smoke, just as if I had used the Sword of Torak. I figured if it could work once, why not try it on the others.”

“Excellent,” grinned the Emperor. “We must get word of this to everyone. Are the girls alright?”

“They are scared,” answered Crawford, “but otherwise unharmed. Thank you for sending Halman to protect them. They would have surely died if he had not been here. They came through the window.”

“From the roof out front,” nodded the Emperor. “Stay and watch over them, Crawford. Halman, make a circuit outside to see if any more are around.”

Halman nodded and raced out of the room. Marak turned to see if the elves had found anymore. They had not.

“Out front,” shouted Halman.

The Emperor raced down the stairs and out the front the door. Halman stood gazing down at a live hellsoul. The creature was on its back staring up at Halman. It had no legs to rise and attack. The Torak walked over to it and stared down.

“I carry the Sword of Torak,” declared the Emperor. “It has the ability to end your miserable existence. Shall I put you out of your misery?”

“What are you waiting for?” spat the hellsoul. “Kill me.”

“Not until you answer my questions,” retorted the Emperor. “When will the invasion begin?”

“I have no knowledge of that,” snarled the hellsoul. “Just kill me and be done with it.”

“I am the Torak,” declared the Emperor. “Were you specifically targeting me?”

“I will tell you nothing,” growled the creature.

Emperor Marak turned to Halman. “Continue your search. Count the cloaks so that we know how many tried to attack us this night. It was a great deal more than the six we encountered yesterday.”

“What are you waiting for,” snarled the hellsoul. “Kill me.”

“I think not,” replied the Torak. “You cannot die unless I kill you. I wonder what life will be like for you. You cannot stand or ride a horse. You cannot even crawl. The rest of your days will be confined to this very spot watching others come and go. I cannot imagine what a life like that will be.”

The hellsouls eyes clouded over with fear. It was not the fear of dying, but rather the fear of remaining alive. Emperor Marak turned and started to walk away.

“Stop,” shouted the hellsoul. “I will tell you what you want to know.”

Marak smiled inwardly and returned to stand over the creature. “Speak.”

“How do I know that you will kill me when I have spoken,” asked the hellsoul.

“Unlike the people of Motanga,” answered the Emperor, “I keep my word. Answer my questions, and you will die quickly.”

“Not all of us were sent to kill you,” the hellsoul stated without hesitation. “There are groups hunting for you along this road, but some of us have different missions. The six you spoke of ordered me and the others to join with them for this attack. Now kill me.”

“How may other groups are trying to kill me?” asked the Emperor.

“I don’t know,” answered the hellsoul. “I do know that you are a special target. There will be dozens of groups after you. There are thousands of us in all. Some of us have special targets. Others are free to strike at random. I really know little else. Kill me,” he pleaded as his arms rose in desperation.

The Emperor stared at the hellsoul’s wrist. There was a thumbprint seared on the inside of it. He pointed to it with the tip of his sword.

“What is this mark?” asked the Emperor.

“It is the mark of a hellsoul,” answered the creature. “It is the searing caused by Vand’s thumb during the ceremony. Ask me no more! We had a bargain. Kill me.”

Emperor Marak nodded and plunged the Sword of Torak into the creature’s chest. The empty cloak settled to the ground as a puff of smoke rose over it.

Halman was the first to come down the stairs in the morning. He stopped at the bottom of the stairs and looked around. The blood and gore from the previous night’s battle had been cleaned up. He heard noises coming from the kitchen and decided to investigate.

“Morning,” greeted the innkeeper of the Western Woods Inn. “You are up early.”

“And it appears that you have not slept at all,” replied Halman. “The common room is already cleaned for your guests. I am sorry that we brought these troubles upon you. Can I help with anything?”

“You already performed your greatest service last night when you protected my daughters rather than your lord,” replied Crawford. “You have my gratitude for life.”

“It was my lord who requested that I do so,” declared Halman, “although I was pleased that he did. How are the girls?”

“I have not woken them,” frowned Crawford. “I am afraid that last night was too horrible for them to understand. One of the reasons that I left the Kheri tribe was to isolate them from the deaths of tribal warfare. I guess that is not possible in these times.”

“No it isn’t,” agreed the Torak soldier. “They should have the satisfaction of knowing that their father is a fearless warrior and will protect them with his life. You performed well last night.”

“I am getting old,” grinned the innkeeper, “but I still know how to use a sword. Do you think more of them will come today?”

“I do not think so,” answered Halman. “It is my lord they are after. We will be on the road within the hour, so I think your life will return to normal.”

“Why is your lord so important to those creatures?” asked Crawford.

Halman went silent for a few moments as if weighing his answer before giving it. The innkeeper waited patiently as he sliced portions of clova for the morning meal.

“My lord is Emperor Marak of Khadora,” Halman finally stated. “We do not wish much word of his passing to be spread, but it is obvious that our enemy already knows.”

“The Emperor of Khadora?” gasped the innkeeper. “Mercy! I am honored to have served him and his people last night.”

“You did more than serve us,” smiled Halman. “You fought alongside us. It is a memory to be cherished.”

“Indeed,” the innkeeper nodded excitedly. “It is also exactly what I need to help the girls recover from their fright. They will be so excited to serve the Emperor of Khadora that they will forget the troubles of last night. Excuse me while I go and waken them.”

Halman smiled and returned to the common as the rest of the party was coming down the stairs. Gunta looked tired, and Halman realized that he probably stayed up the whole night. The group gathered at the same table that they had occupied the night before. There was not much talking as Halman brought mugs of coffee from the kitchen and placed them on the table before sitting down. A few minutes later Crawford raced down the stairs and into the kitchen. A short while later the two girls descended the stairs. They stared briefly at the travelers before whispering excitedly and running into the kitchen.

Both girls emerged from the kitchen carrying plates of eggs and clova slices. They very formally placed the plates in front of each of the travelers and then bowed low to the Emperor. Marak’s brow creased in confusion as he watched the performance. Halman’s lips curled upward in a smile as he watched the girls depart.