Reaver’s Song

“You have a plan, right?” I whispered to Lyrei as we hid among a shabby tree house built among the branches of one of the large trees spread through the valley in the center of the warrens. Zelaeryn, Sayuri, still holding a barely conscious Carrisyn, Prince dickweed’s fiancée Lysabel who was still wrapped in her heavy cloak and two of the overwhelmed looking Elves from the supply room waited in a small room behind us.

“Well,” Lyrei didn’t take her eyes off whatever she was staring at intently and blushed rather sheepishly, “kind of.”

“Huh?” I stared at her dumbfounded.

“I mean, we do! It’s just…” Lyrei trailed off sheepishly.

“Just what?” I demanded. I’d assumed when two of the men around the table scurried off at Lyrei’s direction and we were led through narrow side passages to the tree house this was all part of some clever, detailed plan.

“Well, we never thought we’d get this far,” Lyrei admitted. She looked at me earnestly. “Don’t worry, though! I know what to do!” I shook my head, seriously doubting she did.

“We’re so fucked,” I muttered under my breath. “Maybe we, you know, take whoever wants to go and skip out of here. An advance by retreating kind of thing or something.” My military prowess was about as close to zero as one could get without shooting oneself in the face, and retreat sounded pretty good to me given the circumstances.

“We can’t,” Lyrei took my hands in hers desperately. “We can’t leave the Ri in charge. He cares for nothing except his own power. He’s sold hundreds of elves into slavery to keep King Rhade happy and keep himself in charge. If we were able to make it out, he would purge everyone but the most loyal of the elves in the warrens in retaliation. Then, if anyone did try to stand up and the situation became desperate enough the Rhade army would invade, and every elf here would be killed or sold into slavery! He has to be stopped. Here. Now. For our people to have any hope of a future! Please, your majesty. We can do this!” I nodded glumly. Sure. Sure, we can. There was no way in hell we could.

Honestly, the desperation in her eyes made me feel immediately sorry for suggesting running. It still seemed like more than a halfway decent idea, but I had guilt, now, and I didn’t do well with guilt.  It appeared to me Lyrei had some notion in her head of an ideal world where the queen in her royal raiment descended once more from the throne on high to lead her people with wisdom and patience and somehow the elves became more than a pale shadow of what they were even a hundred years ago. Looking into her pleading eyes I couldn’t bring myself to crush her dreams with the reality that I wasn’t even me right now and the me she saw was a scrawny street rat half elf with no more majesty than the branch which kept stabbing me in the leg as I huddled there in the canopy.

“I’m sure we’ve got this,” I lied supportively, smiling my most brilliant and reassuring smile. Lyrei perked up immediately and the flame flickering in her eyes raged to life once again.

“I know we do!” Lyrei nodded emphatically. Like hell we do, I thought to myself as we resumed watching the clearing far below for any sign of life.

“There’s, uh-there’s more than the four of you, then…” I finally asked after several long minutes of inactivity.

“Of course!” Lyrei seemed genuinely shocked by my insinuation.

“It’s just that…” I gestured to the still empty clearing. Why in the hell anyone would even consider supporting me as a queen was beyond me. Especially considering nothing in what few of Ashvallen’s memories or possessions I had access to would lead me to believe the girl was anything other than what the Prince and Carrisyn had called her. Namely, a low-rent street rat mongrel with a gift for getting into tight places and skill with outlandish weapons born of necessity.

“They’re here,” Lyrei grinned, bouncing effortlessly toward the ground branch by branch. My dismissiveness quickly turned to surprise and then mounting horror as more and more elves began to fill the clearing until they were packed in like sardines. This was so much worse than only the four of them. This is definitely war, I thought, hopes of a relatively peaceful resolution to the question of Elven leadership vanishing like morning mist.

“The time has come!” Lyrei shouted, taking a spot on the root of the tree we’d been hiding in and looking over the crowd. The murmur of the assembled elves died down quickly. I sighed and clambered down to stand behind her acutely aware my hands had nothing to do. I always felt like this in front of crowds.

The assembly at the start of the year saw the superintendent standing at the podium for a good hour as her speech dragged on and on and the staff were expected to stand behind her dutifully. The first few moments had passed uneventfully but gradually I started wondering what to do with my arms and hands. In their initial state they were clasped in front of me with my elbows straight and locked but I felt stupid. I tried switching them around behind me, but I imagined the look had changed to one of trying to keep my panties up and that wasn’t what I was going for, either. All in all, every pose I struck felt either forced, too relaxed, not attentive enough or just plain odd. I spent half an hour fidgeting in place. Now, in front of the curious eyes of the elves, I was beginning to fidget again as my appendages became problematic for me. Lyrei, completely engrossed in what she was saying, continued to shout, her voice echoing through the clearing.

“For years we have been beholden to the whims of a lesser court official in her glorious majesty’s court masquerading as a king in exile! We have bowed and scraped to the humans, begged for scraps from their table! We have turned a blind eye when our own went missing or were sold into slavery! For what?!” Lyrei was working herself and, by extension the crowd up. She was very skilled at speaking, I mused. “So he could sit on his broken throne and act like his word came from the royal court! So he could forge his false peace with the beast in the castle! So he could betray all of us while enriching himself! I say no more! What say you?”

“NO MORE!” The crowd called back in unison. She was quite different from the girl who had moments earlier admitted to having no plan to make any of what she said come to pass. The crowd, though, was eating up what she was saying. She was like those politicians howling incoherently about whatever minority they blamed for trying to screw over the innocent majority that week. The difference being Lyrei meant it. Her passion was on full display as her voice echoed across the assembled elves.

The branch shook slightly as Zelaeryn landed deftly beside me. She crossed her arms across her expansive naked bosom and set her legs at shoulder width, eyes surveying the crowd appraisingly. I glanced at her for a moment before returning to my fidgeting. Seriously, with all the nudity around me of late, if I didn’t get twenty minutes to myself soon, they would find their new queen hunkered down in the bushes ass deep in a menage a moi.

“We will have our freedom and return our royal line to its rightful place on the throne!” Lyrei finished, turning to me, beaming brightly. My face blanched in fear as the realization they were all waiting for me to say something dawned. I looked at Zelaeryn in panic, but the blue demon merely shrugged sympathetically. I took one tentative step forward and cleared my throat. The clearing grew quiet. Nothing in the world has as much power as a word Emily Dickinson once said. Time to harness that power, overcome my fears, and inflame the hearts of these elves with my golden words!

“D-D-Damn right!” I stuttered clenching one hand into a weak fist nervously. You know what? I thought. Fuck you, Emily Dickinson. After a brief pause the clearing re-erupted in howls and cries of exuberance and I scowled. I could have merely burped, and they would have reacted the same. Perhaps they were part of some hive mind or something. Either that or their expectations were dangerously low.

“Well said, your majesty,” Lyrei sighed, all of the fire draining out of her as she turned toward Zelaeryn and I. I stared at her aghast. Well said? What the hell? Was she not right there when I did the equivalent of a verbal ten story high belly flop? What was wrong with these people? “I have no idea how to make it happen.”

“Hmm,” Zelaeryn scratched her cheek thoughtfully. “I might have an idea and I think the countess can help.”

The long benches filled with elves from the previous day was empty as Lyrei and I strode boldly down the center of the clearing housing what Lyrei called the Mahaxanar where I’d been paraded before. Sure enough, as we drew near the far end the withered form of the Ri could be seen perched atop his chair. The royal guard fanned out on either side with half the council in attendance on their chairs behind him. As we walked elves began to congregate behind us, some overtly hostile, others merely curious so that by the time we stopped five meters from the Ri we were effectively boxed in from the sides and rear.

“So,” The Ri ignored my presence altogether, focusing instead on Lyrei, “you are the traitor I was warned about. This is a surprise, isn’t it, captain?”

“It is indeed, your worship,” Othorion agreed, his gaze blazing in hatred as he stared at Lyrei. If looks could kill Lyrei would be less than dust at this point.

“It’s you who betrayed the Elves, Faelar Naexirym,” Lyrei shot back, using what I could only assume was the Ri’s real name. “You betrayed the queen who you served, you betrayed and had her daughter murdered and you would do the same with the last true queen of the elves. Tell me, as I’m curious, when did the beast turn you to his cause? Was it before the Battle of Tears or was it even earlier? How long had you been working for Ancil Rhade against your own people? How many of our warriors did you sell out for hollow promises of power and wealth? How many times were our operations already known by the Kingdom? How many of the court did you kill personally when you cut down our queen? Tell me!” Lyrei was shaking with barely contained fury while I desperately tried to remember if this had been a part of Zelaeryn’s plan.

“I am the Ri!” the shriveled husk sitting on the chair rasped angrily.

“Tell us all the truth! Tell us all how long you’ve been suckling at the humans’ teat you mangy cur! Tell us!” Lyrei screamed at him, gesturing with one arm to the assembled elves, some now muttering in concern. “Tell us or I swear by the Goddess I will kill you where you sit!”

“You know nothing,” the Ri sneered. “You come to me with these disgusting accusations in the company of the repulsive half breed you’d put on the throne? Othorion, kill them. Then hunt down the other traitors and send them off to the humans as slaves.”

“If what you say is true, read that out loud,” Lyrei flung a folded scrap of paper through the air. The aging piece of parchment fluttered for a moment before landing in the dirt a meter from where the Ri sat. The Ri sat as before, motionless, eyes fixed for a moment on the weathered scrap. “Do you recognize this? This missive the beast sent you. The last of his instructions the day before the queen and most of her court were slaughtered at his direction. Read the letter explaining how you were going to take our people here to this pit and how many slaves you were to hand over to the humans each year. Then tell me who the traitor is.” Othorion stepped back a pace, his eyes traveling from the letter to the face of the Ri.

“I thought to spare the elves for a bit longer,” the Ri spoke softly, chuckling dryly. He lowered his wizened head and sighed heavily. “I thought to maintain the status quo. You’re right about almost everything, of course. There is one thing you’re wrong about, though.” The Ri chuckled again and shook his head, the wispy strands of grey hair dancing in the air.

“And what is that, traitor?” Lyrei snarled, drawing her blade. Suddenly the form of the Ri began to melt away like the green slime my sister used to buy in the cans. A misshapen, cruel caricature of the Ri began to take form as the skin and robes slipped from its body. A pair of lurid yellow eyes glanced up from a face jagged with sharp fangs and a long thin tongue played across blackened lips.

“Faelar Naexirym has been dead for well over a hundred years,” the creature’s voice sounded like it was pulled from some pit of hell I definitely did not want to visit.

“What the fuck is this?” I muttered, my daggers jumping to my hands as I stared in horror as what had been the Ri twisted and warped in front of us.

“Demon!” Othorion cried, reaching for his sword. A solid weight struck me immediately from behind and pain rose up from my shoulders and back. I rolled deftly to the side and was up in an instant, blood slipping down my back in rivulets as I grimaced in pain. I quickly dropped to a defensive crouch and was shocked to come face to face with the elf I’d seen in the prison, his form already melting like the Ri’s had done. How many fucking demons outside our own blue one are there? I asked myself, not really sure I wanted to know the answer.