Demonkin (57 page)

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Authors: Richard S. Tuttle

Tags: #Fantasy, #Science Fiction & Fantasy, #Young Adult

BOOK: Demonkin
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“I am only borrowing them,” smiled Garth.

“You may think that, but each of them idolizes you. They want to be just like you, fighting for what is right in the world. They will not return to thieving.”

“Perhaps that is for the better,” mused the Knight of Alcea. “You should give some thought to what the thieves are going to be doing when the Federation is vanquished.”

“I have already been doing so,” admitted Juggler. “While not all of my thieves can be converted, I think many of them can be productive citizens again.”

“Perhaps you should start forming an organization of patriots as has been done in other countries.”

“I have heard rumors.” Juggler nodded. “Vinafor and Tyronia both have patriot groups now. Is that your doing?”

“I am in contact with them,” answered Garth, “as well as Karamin, but I cannot take credit for it. The citizens of those countries want their freedom back. Why should Ertak be any different?”

“Why indeed?” smiled Juggler.

* * * *

Tedi rode his unicorn into the slums of Valdo. It was his first trip through the slums where he didn’t see a single body in the streets or alleys, and it brought a smile to his lips. He looked around at the poor wretches who called the slums home, and he noticed a difference in their demeanor. Even though their bodies were still covered in rags, the people walked with their heads upright, and they greeted one another in passing. There were no beggars that Tedi could see, and that told him that the mages were accomplishing their goal of feeding the people. The Knight of Alcea nodded to Theos as he dismounted in front of Kalmar’s healing shop. While Tedi had never been introduced to the mage from Tyronia, Eulena had talked about each of the members of Fakir’s group, and he felt obligated to greet each one of them.

Tedi entered the shop and immediately noticed a change. He frowned as he saw the shelves half empty, and Kalmar’s face was long with sadness. Tedi nodded to the Koroccan healer, but he received no response. Kalmar stood mute behind the counter, staring at the front of the shop. Tedi pushed aside the curtain and entered the rear room. He saw Eulena and Valera sitting at a table talking quietly. The elven mage rose immediately and met the Knight of Alcea halfway.

“What is going on?” Tedi asked with concern. “The shelves out front are nearly empty.”

“Fakir Aziz has said that it is time to be moving on,” answered Eulena. “Everyone is unhappy with the decision, but the Mage is not someone to argue with.”

“Did he say why?” inquired Tedi.

“He did not have to,” replied Eulena. “We all know what will happen in Valdo two days from now. I assume that Fakir wants us out of the city before anything happens.”

“All of you?” frowned Tedi.

“Not me,” clarified Eulena. “He is allowing me to stay and help you, but I must leave as soon as my help is no longer needed. I will meet up with the group outside of the city.”

“I am sorry to hear that,” stated Tedi. “I couldn’t help noticing the change in the people in this part of the city. You and your group will be sorely missed.”

“I know.” Eulena nodded. “What brings you to this part of the city?”

“There is trouble within the reeducation center,” confided the Knight of Alcea. “The elven thief who was supposed to tell the children of their impending escape has returned with bad news. Some of the children do not want to leave. They were so adamant in their opposition that the thief fears that they might squeal to their Federation masters.”

“That must not be allowed to happen,” Eulena said with alarm.

“I cannot understand it,” frowned Tedi. “Why wouldn’t they want to be rescued?”

“The reeducation centers are designed to lure our children away from us and into the service of the Federation,” explained Eulena. “They have never been very successful, but some of the children are swayed away from their people.”

“Will any of them truly reveal our plans? That would be a catastrophe.”

“Yes, it would,” agreed the elven mage, “and yes, some of them are quite capable of doing such a senseless thing. I must go talk to them.”

“How will you get in?” questioned Tedi. “Strangler’s man only got the chance because he was called in to fix something.”

“I will get in,” vowed the elven mage, “but I must wait for nightfall.”

* * * *

Thousands of elves swarmed into the Heart of Elfwoods; many of them with heavy packs upon their backs. King Elengal stood on the top of the steps of the royal residence and gazed out over the crowd. Prince Saratoma stood on one side of the king, and Prince Rigal stood on the other.

“If the Federation was to visit the Heart today,” mused Prince Saratoma, “there would be great bloodshed. There is no way to hide the intentions of our people. It is clear that we are migrating to somewhere.”

“Why are the people carrying so much?” asked Prince Rigal. “It will slow down the exodus.”

“What they are carrying on their backs is all that they will ever have,” stated King Elengal. “Do you think that we will be able to return to Elfwoods when this is all done? If so, you had better think again. The Federation is quite capable of burning the entire Elfwoods out of shear anger, but even if they do not, the Dielderal cannot return. Should the Empire of Barouk suddenly throw off the yoke of the Federation, the new emperor would not permit another sovereign nation to dwell within its borders. The Elfwoods is not our land.”

“I guess I had not given that much thought,” frowned Prince Rigal.

“It will be doubly worse when the elves attack Despair,” added Prince Saratoma. “The humans will never again feel safe with elves living so close to them.”

Prince Rigal stared at the crowd and thought about all of the empty villages throughout the Elfwoods. He slowly nodded in understanding.

“The time has finally come,” King Elengal said, tearing the Glendor prince away from his musings. “Prince Saratoma, I want you to organize the journey to the dwarven tunnel. Our people are to leave no tracks. None. To do so would defeat the purpose of our secrecy. Assign group leaders and send the groups along diverse paths to the tunnel.”

“You mean to start the migration now?” questioned Prince Saratoma.

“Yes,” replied the king. “It is already clear to anyone entering the Heart what our intent is. We should waste no time with false pretenses. The women are to be taken to the tunnel immediately. They will also bear the burden of carrying the family’s belongings. The men will carry only their bows, and they will not be going to the tunnel right away.”

“They will be needed for the war party.” Prince Saratoma nodded in agreement.

“Which will be led by Prince Rigal,” declared the king.

“By Prince Rigal?” balked the Dielderal prince. “If we are going into battle, I will lead our men.”

“Prince Rigal has more knowledge of warfare,” retorted the king. “It is more appropriate for him to lead the warriors.”

“I will not dispute your statements,” argued Prince Saratoma, “but the Dielderal are my people. I will not flee with the women while you assign our warriors to someone else.”

“You forget who is king. You had a chance to accept the leadership of our people. You refused. Now, you will obey my orders.”

“Perhaps,” Prince Saratoma said threateningly.

“I think Prince Saratoma is quite capable of leading the war party,” interjected Prince Rigal. “He knows the terrain and he knows the warriors and their capabilities. I will take the women to the tunnel.”

“This is not a matter for discussion,” rebuked the king. “I have made my decision.”

“I see that the old King Elengal has returned,” came a voice from behind the three elves.

The three elves turned to see the historian exiting the building.

“You will go with the women, Legaulle,” said the king.

“I know my own limitations,” replied the historian. “On that topic you will get no argument from me, but I will speak my mind on your other decrees.”

King Elengal held up his hand for silence, but the historian ignored him.

“You cannot protect your grandson by denying him his rightful place at the head of the elven army,” stated Legaulle. “You can try such a foolish measure, but Prince Saratoma has already shown his worthiness as your opponent. He will be in the forefront of the battle no matter what you decree, and I support him in this.”

“You support him?” scowled the king. “Who asked for your opinion?”

“No one asked for it,” retorted Legaulle, “but it is sorely needed. There is more involved here than Prince Saratoma’s desire to fight. He is a natural leader, and the warriors respect him. Are you so quick to forget that?”

“Prince Rigal is also respected,” countered King Elengal, “and he is a seasoned leader.”

“I find no faults with Prince Rigal,” agreed the historian, “but when all of this is over, the prince will return to his own people across the sea. You know that Prince Saratoma will be leading the Dielderal soon enough. Why do you seek to start his reign with disgrace?”

“Disgrace?” snapped the king. “There is no disgrace in leading your people to safety.”

“Legaulle is correct,” interjected Prince Rigal. “This is a most crucial time in the history of the Dielderal, and Prince Saratoma is a capable leader. By trying to keep him safe, you are showing your lack of faith in him. No elven prince should be treated that way in a time of war. Have you even given any thought that your people might think that Prince Saratoma requested his safe duty out of cowardice?”

“Cowardice?” balked King Elengal. “Do not be absurd. This is the war that he has been trying to provoke all along.”

“And you seek to rob me of my chance to stand up for my people,” accused Prince Saratoma. “Grandfather, I know that you love me and that you are trying to protect me, but I have a duty as a Dielderal prince, and I will not forsake it for personal safety. Deep down you know that as well as everyone else who knows me. Why make me defy your orders?”

King Elengal sighed heavily and nodded in defeat. “You are the last of our line, Saratoma. If you die in battle, the reign of the descendents of Prince Gordana will die with you. The Dielderal will be no more.”

“The Dielderal exist only within our minds,” smiled Prince Saratoma. “Prince Rigal and I are brothers, as are all elves. We no longer need such false divisions within our race. Besides, I have no intention of dying in the coming battle. Prince Rigal and I have already discussed the battle plan, and it is a sound one.”

“I agree with that,” interjected Prince Rigal. “I will lead the exodus.”

“No,” replied the king. “Prince Saratoma will still lead the exodus. He has a much better knowledge of the Elfwoods. Besides, the journey to the tunnel will be complete long before the need for battle. There is no need for Prince Saratoma to take them through the tunnel. I can do that myself, but you will stay close to my grandson when he leads the attack, Prince Rigal. Promise me that.”

“I shall be like his shadow,” vowed the Glendor prince. “You have my word on that.”

The king smiled and nodded at Prince Rigal and turned towards his grandson. “What about the false trail to the Sea of Tears?”

“I have asked Tomar to head the first group,” answered Prince Saratoma. “He is excited about it. The unicorns will arrive here right after they deposit the children at the tunnel. Milashar will lead the group covering the tracks.”

“Then you need to get the mages to start moving today,” replied the king. “I want them all in position before the unicorns even arrive in the Heart. There will be precious little time for them to get to the tunnel before the Federation soldiers start pouring into Elfwoods.”

* * * *

The dove flew low over the rooftops of the city of Valdo with only the thinnest sliver of a moon to guide it through the night sky. When it arrived over the reeducation center, the bird circled several times, observing the streets below. Only when the dove was sure that no one was around did it dive downward towards the barred windows of the building. The bird chose the window farthest from the front of the building as it landed on the window ledge. From its vantage point on the window ledge, the bird peered into one of the sleeping chambers. The room housed two-dozen children, and they were all sleeping. The only illumination came through the barred window in the closed door to the chamber. The bird waddled through the bars of the window and fluttered down to the floor. In an instant, the bird winked out of existence to be replaced by an elven woman. Eulena moved quietly to the side of one of the older girls in the room. She held a finger to her lips and gently shook the girl awake. The girl’s eyes grew as large as coins as she stared up at the elven woman.

“Who are you?” the girl whispered.

“I am Eulena,” answered the mage. “I understand that word has come to you that you are to be rescued. Is this true?”

The girl nodded. “No one believes it, though. Is it really true?”

“It is true,” Eulena whispered, “but I also heard that some in here do not want to be rescued. Do you know who they are?”

“Four of the older boys,” answered the girl. “I do not know if they were serious in their objections, though. Those four always talk about fighting in a war. I suppose they think the humans may give them a chance to do that.”

“Have they told the guards?”

“I don’t think so. I am sure that there would have been quite a commotion if they had, and nothing seems out of the ordinary. How did you get in here?”

“You will see when I leave,” smiled the mage. “We will be coming for you on the night of the new moon. Can you quietly prepare your brothers and sisters for that night?”

“I will,” promised the girl, “but where will we be going?”

“You will see when you get there,” Eulena replied with a smile. “Where will I find those four boys?”

“There are two-dozen boys all in the same room,” answered the girl. “The four boys are among them. They are two doors down the hall to the left, but the doors are locked.”

“That will never stop an elven mage,” smiled Eulena. “Remember to keep this secret close to your heart. Failure to do so will deprive many of your parents the joy of seeing you again.”

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