RE: Monarch

My father was a sight to behold. And almost entirely unrecognizable. He was unarmored, his expensive tabard torn to scraps, but otherwise unwounded. There was mud smeared across his face and neck, giving him the appearance of a wild man.

I stopped struggling and held my breath.

There was a rustle, barely perceptible. And another. If I wasn’t holding completely still, I would have missed them. A jagged dagger came into view. Its surface was dull, as if the metal that formed the blade was treated with something to dim its reflection. The wielder’s gauntlet came into view shortly after, animal skin wrapped in fur lining.

There was one very important aspect to consider. The drephin apparently had some sort of telepathic capability. If the sentry spotted us, I wasn’t sure I could intervene before he sounded the alarm.

Unless…

I’d discovered an interesting theory during my study of language. Several scholars claimed that when we actively think—hear that little voice inside our heads—our throat muscles make small articulations that mimic the larger ones required for speech.

The drephin locked eyes with me. I sprang forward, forcing air through his mouth and into his lungs. Surprised and disoriented, he reeled.

I drew back my left fist and slammed it into his nose.

His head snapped back, the result of the blow an audible clang. My father rushed forward, wind in his wake, and caught the elf before he hit the ground.

We both tensed, searching in the sound’s direction. It sounded nothing like any birdcall I’d heard during my time in the Everwood. Competent sentries would move in pairs. I wasn’t sure why they were using more traditional means to communicate if they could communicate telepathically. Perhaps it had a limited range or was too costly for frequent use.

The same warble repeated, somehow more insistent this time.

King Gil hefted a heavy stone and crept up, keeping a tree between himself and the camp up ahead.

Does he intend to bludgeon the entire camp?

I answered my confusion when my father hefted the rock up to his shoulder, squinted into the distance, and threw it.

The projectile flew forward at a staggering velocity with very little arc, disappearing into the forest. A full second later, there was the sound of a ripe melon striking hard ground.

King Gil grinned. Now that I was seeing him from a distance, he looked completely mad, covered in dirt and dried blood, with a golden looped string fastened to his belt that was threaded through at least a dozen elven ears.

”They’re going to see the bodies.” I used a burst of air to carry the whisper.

He considered that, peeking around the tree to measure our proximity from the camp. Then he pointed to the body and made a complex series of hand gestures. I’d watched plenty of rangers use them before, but did not know what they meant.

”I can’t understand you.”

My father had the gall to roll his eyes, then communicated the message in a series of vague points.

Drag him back that way. I’ll get the other.

Fine. That was easy enough. The first drephin we felled looked thin, light. I bent down and looped his arm around my shoulder and prepared to move. He was breathing shallowly, clearly unconscious.

By the time I looked up, King Gil was already gone. We hadn’t specified where we were going to regroup, so I dragged the incapacitated elf deeper into the forest and dumped the body, doubling back to smooth over the imprints his limp legs had left in the ground.

When I returned, there was a second body draped over the first. That elf’s head was completely gone, obliterated by the rock.

My father was crouched over the first elf. He’d tossed a severed ear to the side and was about to start on the second with a small hand axe.

“He’s still alive!” I hissed.

King Gil’s brow furrowed, and he felt the elf’s neck. “So he is.” He released the elf’s ear. Then raised the hatchet above his head.

I barely caught his arm in time. “Fucking—leave him.”

“Why?” King Gil looked genuinely surprised that I’d stopped him.

“Because he’s not a threat. We’ll be long gone by the time he regains consciousness.”

My father eyed me. “I see the time away from home has not tempered that naïve streak.”

I breathed out through my nostrils. “We need to figure out how to handle this.”

“Figured we’d just kill them all.”

“Of course you did.”

“Do you have a problem with the way I conduct business, boy?”

Far too many to list.

But getting into it now wasn’t worth it. It was better to focus on information, in case we failed and triggered another reset.

I crossed my arms. “Could have used your help. The entire encampment was under attack.”

He shrugged. “You handled it.”

“Yes, but they’re still stuck behind a barrier.”

My father scowled. “Always with the fucking barriers. If you must know, someone alerted me that several rangers had disappeared. I investigated, killed a handful of knife-ears, and by the time I returned, the way was blocked. Been hunting for the caster ever since.”

How did he know? The barrier was completely invisible. I added it to the growing list of questions to address later and moved on. If I could get him to see reason, this might still be possible.

“I’m reasonably confident he’s in the main camp.” Both the barrier and the spell that killed me required an immense amount of mana. It was possible they had multiple mages capable of such a feat, but I doubted it.

“So.” King Gil stared at me blankly. “Was there a plan?”

“I intended to grab their leader. The shaman. Or whatever he is. We get him to drop the barrier, then gain as much distance from the Everwood as we can. Even if that means going the long way around. If we can get him to Whitefall as a prisoner, we can leverage him to negotiate with the drephin.”

“Plains would be best,” my father mused. “Once they lose their favored terrain and the element of surprise, their beast gimmick doesn’t work nearly as well.”

“Yes—wait. You’ve encountered the drephin before?”

“There’s nothing in this world I haven’t fought, boy.” My father stared up at me, still crouched near the bodies. “That aside, your plan is imperfect. The drephin’s camp is large. They will not sit idly by while you pluck their leader from its depths.”

He was correct. The moment we acted, we would be kicking a hornet’s nest. I needed to think. Take stock.

I dropped to one knee, removing my satchel from my arm and unrolling the leather wrap that held most of my ingredients. I tossed several aside, searching for a specific combination.

“Do you intend to trade them a salve for their hemorrhoids?” My father mocked.

Keep laughing, old man.

Flashpowder. Shrieking lily. Eruption berry. Glass capsules containing sulfur, saltpeter and dionystic charcoal. And something else. Something for theatricality. I stalled for a moment, reviewing the ingredients before I landed on a glowing red mushroom cap.

Perfect.

***

It’s easy to miss the forest for the trees. Moreso when you’re in the actual forest. Patrolling a wooded area requires significantly more attention to detail than an urban environment.

Perhaps that’s why, at first, none of the elves seemed to notice the small but clearly visible red light floating overhead, moving into the clearing from the opposite side. A bead of sweat rolled down my forehead as I kept my focus on the floating orb.

I didn’t know what the mushroom was called. Only that it grew in the temperate chambers of the sanctum, and glowed vibrantly when it interacted with mana of any kind. Without the mushroom, it would look like nothing more than a mix of capsules and ingredients floating through the air.

With the mushroom, it would look like something else entirely.

“I still say it’s overcomplicated.” King Gil leaned against a nearby tree, watching the floating orb.

Unsurprising. His version of simple most likely involved surrounding the drephin with fire and charging in. I guided the orb towards the center of the camp, keeping it balanced between alternating gusts of wind.

A drephin stopped mid-stride and looked up.

Now.

I allowed my spark to emulsify the shrieking lily. A banshee’s wail emitted from the orb, loud enough that even at a distance I couldn’t help but cringe. The first capsule dropped, thin glass shattering on impact with earth, grass, and dirt flying out from the impact point.

Drephin poured out of the tents. Someone screamed in elvish. Moments later, others repeated the same phrase. I didn’t know enough elvish to translate what they were saying, but I could guess.

”Berserker pixie!”

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