NOVEL NEXT Interlude Three
An elf dressed in golden armour walked confidently into a cavernous hall. The echoes of her footsteps bounced off the walls of the unusually empty room. She came to a halt about two-thirds of the way into the space, bowed slightly and pressed her open right palm against her left shoulder.
"Your majesty, you wished to see me?"
Another elf dressed in diaphanous blue robes was sitting on an ornate chair which rested upon the gold-tinged pale wood of a dais. His face was lined more than was usual for elves, especially since his hair was still dark. His piercing orange eyes looked tired.
"General. What news do you have for me on our preparations?"
The armour-wearing general stood up straighter and now held her hands behind her back in an at-ease position.
"The city has been organised. Most of the elves capable of killing without suffering soul-wounds have been moved to the outer reaches, hunters, warriors, and those who chose to be neither but are capable. They will sleep in the wall when they are not defending it. Those who remain have been split between the palace and the general population. We anticipate taking down any beasts before they reach our vulnerable population, but just in case, this final line of defence will ensure our people are safe. I have also ordered entrapping nets and enchanted bows to be distributed among as many adults as we can arm."
"General, we do not wish to hurt our own people," the king objected, leaning forwards on his throne. "I know we are in a difficult position, but to force those of our people not suited to fighting to defend us may destroy us from within."
"Your majesty, your crafters have been doing their best to avoid that very possibility," the general responded. "The enchantments are twofold – for aim, since we do not have the time to turn amateurs into experts, and in limiting the damage. Different crafters have engaged different effects, but some have used ice-magic to cause the arrows to freeze what they strike, others disable with lightning, or petrification, or vines. Still others influence the mind briefly with fear or calmness. I will not deny that it is a possibility some of our civilian population will kill accidentally, but the chances of them being able to disable without killing are a lot higher with these bows. Your majesty, it is my sincerest hope that we will never need to ask our civilians to use these arms, but it is my job to ensure that they are prepared for it if worse comes to worst."
The king leaned back in his seat, seeming more tired than ever.
"That I must live to see this day," he murmured to himself desolately. "You have done the right thing, General," he told the other elf heavily, the words of praise reluctant to emerge. "We have too many dungeons around us to take chances. On that note, have the teams been organised?"
"Yes, your majesty, and already four teams have set out to two different dungeons. Even if one is lost, hopefully the other will succeed in overcoming the dungeon's defences. They all know which of the known dungeons they are in charge of dealing with and how many unknown dungeons they must seek."
The king sighed heavily once more. On his shoulders, the mantle of kingship seemed impossibly weighty, but to be king in a time of war was never a joy. This king had seen both war and peace, and knew which he preferred.
"And what of the rest of our people? Have you received any information on whether the dungeon overflow is specific to this area – another Challenge we must face – or whether it is far more extensive?"
Here, the general paused, reluctance flickering through her expression.
"Your majesty…I cannot say that we have been able to confirm it for sure, but I received some messages back from Lelanna this morning. They are also facing a dungeon overflow."
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"The same dungeons or different ones?" the king inquired shrewdly, leaning forwards once more.
"It is uncertain, but when added to the information we have about Crithis and Olyanis, as well as the dungeons we are facing here, it seems likely that they are different dungeons. The alternative is that the dungeons have a massive range, which wouldn't entirely make sense. All four cities are facing dungeons of slightly different ranks from each other, and slightly different numbers."
"I see," the king replied quietly. "The teams who are targeting the dungeons, will they continue on to help other cities once they have dealt with the local dungeons?"
"I can order them to do so, if you wish it, your majesty."
"Do so. I have understood and accepted the words of the council that we must first see to our own defences. However, I feel strongly that if those are secure, we must be the protectors of our people that we are supposed to be."
"Yes, your majesty," the general answered levelly, giving no indication of her personal opinion on the order her liege had just given her.
"And send scouts out further to seek those who are still lost. It is time to regather our kingdom."
"Yes, your majesty."
"Dismissed, General Yolana."
The golden-clad general saluted once more with her right hand to her left shoulder, then turned and strode off to carry out her king's orders.
*****
"As if we didn't have enough to cope with!" moaned a man in a rundown bar, throwing back a shot of homemade rot-gut. He grimaced but still tapped his glass on the bar, asking for another. "Everything stops working one day, people go crazy, animals go crazy, governments struggle to cope at all, and now we're going to get attacked by the very thing that's kept us going all this time!"
"I told them," his companion agreed dolefully, sipping his own drink though without the same grimace of the first man. "I told them 'farming the outer rooms without ever challenging the guardian is going to bring you trouble' and look what's happening now!"
"Oh shut up," another man interjected with exasperation, slamming his fist on the bar top and making it groan warningly. The bartender gave him a sharp look and the third man pulled his arm back with a sheepish expression. "You're always whining and complaining! Look, it's not that bad," he told the two miserable-looking drinkers. "The governments haven't done that badly – and things are much better now than they were on A-day. And this isn't going to be the end of the world either. The guardian's tough, yes, but if anyone can beat it, it's John's team and they're going in tomorrow."
He indicated a small group of three men and two women sitting around a table. Four of them were joking and laughing and generally not looking as if they were about to face a guardian which, so far, had killed or driven away every other attempt to defeat it. The fifth, however, a man with dark coffee-coloured skin and almost black eyes, looked as grim as could be expected considering the situation. He was glaring into his drink as if it had personally offended him and he responded monosyllabically whenever another member of his team spoke to him.
"So which one's John?" the first man asked, pulled out of his own moaning by the morbid prospect of looking at dead men walking. And women.
"The quiet, dour one," the third man told him. "He didn't used to be like that," he said a little sadly. "He used to always be cheerful, generous, ready to help anyone in need. But he lost his son. Or as good as – the boy was somewhere far away when It happened."
The second man snorted. "It's not as if he's the only one to have lost a family member. It's practically a rite of passage at this point. I lost my aunt."
The first man nudged him with an elbow.
"Isn't that the one you hated?"
"Yeah." The second man gave a brief grin. "The best thing A-day did for me." He sobered slightly, looking back at the third man. "Anyway, you think this guy's team can do it? The world sucks right now, but I still don't want to die."
The third man shrugged. "Who can say. But if anyone can do it, it's John and his team. I reckon they've all got death wishes, but the System seems to like them – they're the ones called in for the most dangerous jobs, and somehow they almost always succeed."
"Almost always?" the second man asked warily.
The third man gazed back at John. "Well, the team used to be bigger."
As if hearing them, John lifted his head and glared at the three propping up the bar. The first and second man cowered back a little – the man's gaze was almost physical in its intensity. And then he looked back at his drink, lifted it to his lips and tipped it up. He slammed it down on the table and then stood up and walked out without a word.