Mark G. Manley

 - Excerpt from Khyron of the Shagornan Elves War Journal

 

    As I've grown, I have realized that all things change, though not always for the better.

    The city of New Faerhso, where my people live, is not our home. New Faerhso, named after the first undermountain Elven city near Cliffhome, is dark, dank, and always cold. The Shagornan Elves once lived in the world above, with the sun's warmth and the shade of life-giving trees over our heads. My grandfather described these trees to me on numerous occasions, but he had never actually seen one and so was repeating to me tales he'd heard from his elders when he'd been young. He told me that a tree's trunk is thick and unyielding to all but the most powerful of storms and its bark is like armor, protecting it from harm. The branches stretch to the heavens, yet could support the mightiest elf on a single branch. The countless green leaves provide shelter from sun and rain. A tree can also offer the most delicious food, sweet and sour, the likes of which I have never tasted. Trees sound truly magnificent. They are the Shagornan Elves' link to the glorious past.

    Hundreds of years ago, human invaders, the Delarquans, burned all of our forests pushing us from our lands and woodland homes. It was said when the Delarquans marched to war, the land itself bled as they passed. On the open plains even the sun turned against the Shagornan Elves with its burning rays, so my people fled from the world above.

    Now the rock above our heads is thick and jagged with no life of its own. I have known only the caves I live in. While they have provided shelter from the world outside, there seems to be something lacking from my very spirit, something my body longs for, as if living in these caves is not right. Over the years my resentment has grown to anger. I am angry all the time. I want to lash out at something, anything.

    I fear the outcome of this war with the Delarquans and for the future of the Shagornan Elves. There have not been any new infants born in over a year. The caves aren't conducive to romance, let alone for raising children. We dwindle with every passing year and each elven death is a great loss, while the Delarquans multiply like rodents across the land.

    As a soldier, I'm content to follow orders, but my spirit has grown heavy. I no longer believe the duties our elders ask accomplish anything in furthering our escape from these caves. We are stagnant.

    Our next assignment has taken us more than a day to travel the leagues of underground tunnels from our home in New Faerhso to the world above, the world with no ceiling.

 

​

    "The rangers have returned from their scouting mission."

    Khyron looked up from writing to see eight figures in dark tan cloaks entering the large cave mouth from the twilight outside. Pulling back their dusty hoods, the elven scouts exposed light leather armor, oiled for silent movement. The scouts' clothing appeared identical enough to have been uniforms, but each had unique differences and patterns, allowing Khyron to identify them. He sat writing on a flat stone a ways inside the cave's opening to avoid sitting on the sand that had blown in from the desert. He detested the gritty material, as it always seemed to find a way into his clothing. His location was a perfect balance between the heat outside and the cold in the cave. He also wanted to stay away from a captured Trocarian horse near the entrance. Its smell was unpleasant.

    Khyron's watch was over and his three companions were guarding the entrance awaiting the scouts' return. He should be asleep, but it wasn't easy sleeping this close to the surface where humans could be about.

    Khyron had been in charge of many of these scouting parties. However, his main assignment was to help defend the great web of tunnels leading to the city. Constant war with the Delarquan Federation city of Trocar plagued the Shagornan Elves. Rather than meeting the Trocarians in decisive battle, their engagements executed at night from hidden tunnels were mostly quick hit-and-run raids by the Shagornan Elves to harass and steal supplies from the humans. But Trocarian patrols often followed the elves back, or sometimes stumbled upon a tunnel, so if there were no other option, a retreat would be ordered, then the tunnel collapsed with pre-set traps.

    Sighing, Khyron put away his journal and joined the other elves. At five feet, nine inches, Khyron was a little taller than most elves. This made him stand out and noticed by his superiors. It was attention he didn't want. Additional leadership responsibility meant the possibility of failure where he could get his fellow elves, or himself killed. Given a preference, he'd rather stay unnoticed behind the scenes and follow orders to the best of his ability.

    The guards were using the desert's heat to warm themselves and the returning scouts enjoyed the cave's coolness. The scout leader came up to subcommander Vomarian and shook his head silently indicating the scouting mission was unsuccessful. Vomarian motioned to the elves. They gathered around him a short distance from the opening to the cave.

    "Our rangers have reported over the past few weeks that the Trocarian soldiers have withdrawn to an unknown location. It is vital that we determine what they are up to. Though we've seen signs that they have abandoned this area, humans can't be trusted."

    Khyron had a fond admiration for the subcommander. Vomarian was a seasoned veteran and had a natural charisma that elves followed. On his first patrol with Vomarian, the Trocarians had ambushed their scouting party. He watched Vomarian dispatch three Trocarians by himself, which helped rout the humans. Every member of the party emerged from the battle unscathed. In their eyes, there wasn't anything that Vomarian couldn't accomplish and his presence assured their safety.

    "What is our mission, sir?" Khyron asked with confidence.

    "The Elders have ordered that if the Trocarians couldn't be found, a lone scout would need to go on a deep patrol to find their location," Vomarian said.

    "Sir, why just a lone scout?" Khyron asked.

    "They don't want to risk an entire squad. I believe the humans are lying in wait and this disappearance is all a trap. The Elders understand this expedition would take the scout far from the security of the caves and into the unknown. This will be on a volunteer basis."

    Khyron looked at each elf under Vomarian's command. They were all inexperienced and their eyes were all downcast. None of them wanted to look at Vomarian directly, including himself. It was a great risk scouting in Delarquan controlled areas. Failure was probable and at the end of the road death could be the only reward.

    There was deathly silence for several heartbeats.

    "However, the Elders didn't say I couldn't volunteer," Vomarian said.

    A gnawing queasiness in Khyron's stomach washed away. However, a new nervousness started to set in. What would they do without his leadership and guidance?

    "Sir, you can't be risked," Khyron said.

    Vomarian gripped Khyron's shoulder thanking him for the gesture. "This is my mission. My decision. I'm going to take the Trocarian horse and head out past the scouted borders of the Shagornan Desert to see what the Trocarians are planning."

    Khyron and the others would be lost without his guidance. They always followed Vomarian and things were easier with him around. He felt like the first time his parents had left him alone to fend for himself. "Sir, what should we do until you return?" Khyron asked.

    "Your mission is to hold this tunnel until relieved."

    Vomarian confidently approached the captured Trocarian horse. The mount nervously whinnied and reared as he drew near, threatening to crush him with its massive hooves. The other elves drew their weapons to slay the beast. Vomarian motioned for them to stay back. He advanced, but the horse reared up on its hind legs, kicking forward. While trying to dodge the horse's frantic motions, Vomarian tripped falling to the ground. The beast loomed over the subcommander. The other elves rushed in to pull him out of the way. The agitated horse tromped around the cave's entrance trying to get out, but two elves with spears kept the beast inside.

    All the other elves were either pulling Vomarian out of the way or preventing the horse from escaping. Khyron had to distract the beast. The horse was agitated and the wild gestures of his fellow elves were making matters worse. He slowly approached the horse and raised one hand out in a calming manner while slightly bowing his head. The horse snorted at him, but seemed to calm a bit. After a moment, he had come close enough to touch it. The stallion sniffed his hand and arm. Khyron stroked his neck and shoulders. The mount was a fine specimen. Its coat was a deep brown with a thick black mane and tail, and its muscled shoulders were broad, easily able to carry a rider and a week's worth of supplies.

    "Impressive," Vomarian said as the other elves helped him to his feet. Vomarian drew near the horse and it quickly became agitated again.

    Khyron patted the steed and it calmed.

    "Well, it appears there is a change of plans," Vomarian said.

    "I agree, sir. We'll need to get another horse," Khyron said.

    "There isn't another horse," Vomarian said.

    Khyron's stomach churned and threatened to bring up its contents at the implication. He could refuse and Vomarian would accept his decision, but the other elves would brand him a coward. He admired and respected Vomarian and could never look at him again without feeling shame if he chose to stay. It was time for him to come into his own, whether he wanted to or not. Maybe the Trocarians had left the area. If so, the risk would be minimal. He'd be careful and if he found them, he'd make his way back. Besides, it'd be a cold day in the nine hells before a human would be able to sneak up on him.

    "Sir, I'd like to volunteer for the mission," Khyron said with confidence, but a crack in his voice betrayed his true nervousness.

    "Very well," Vomarian said with appreciation.

    "Sir, when do I leave?"

     "Immediately."