El-Vador's Travels (15 page)

'I
understand.' he said. 'The explosion will come, you'll see.'

They
sat for a time, watching the smouldering wreckage of the Orcish town
as the flames destroyed what little was left. El-Vador still saw no
signs of the Elven forces that had aided him in sacking the place.
Were they revelling in their camps at the Orcs burning, unaware that
he had remained inside?

'What
in the blue hells is that?' the Pixie asked, pointing at a bubble of
light that slowly emerged around the stronghold.

El-Vador
shielded his eyes as the bubble grew, blindingly bright and radiating
a heat that he could feel from here. 'Cover your ears.' he warned
her.

She
nodded wordlessly, clapping her hands to her head but refusing to
tear her gaze away from the phenomenon below.

It
could almost be considered beautiful had El-Vador not known what it
heralded, it swelled in size until none of the Orcish settlement was
visible, engulfing everything it touched in a white conflagration
that seemed to pulse.

Then
it ceased, reaching critical mass and detonating outward across the
land in a sea of blinding luminance. El-Vador closed his eyes and
buried his head into the ground, feeling the energy of the blast
coursing through him and a deafening boom that hit his eardrums with
the force of a hundred thunderclaps.

The
energy and power of the blast slowly lessened as he dug his heels
into the hill to keep from being blown away, then as if it had never
happened it ended entirely.

El-Vador
risked opening his eyes and surveying the Orcish town and stronghold
he had left behind, there was nothing left but a huge smoking crater.
The light and power of the explosion had destroyed everything of
substance within several miles from the epicentre of the detonation.

As
if on cue, the Pixie and he turned to each other in disbelief, he
felt a strange sense of validation at the explosion having happened
as he had predicted. She mouthed a few words at him but he couldn't
hear a thing over the ringing of his ears. He experimented by trying
to thank her but again no sound seemed to come out.

Seeing
that communication was impossible, she offered him a brief smile and
shrugged. Her wings flitting out once more and vibrating through the
air. When next El-Vador looked his saviour was flying south, away
from the mountains he had once called home. He hadn't even known her
name.

When observing an ending, always understand that it is also the
beginning of something entirely different. With this permanently in
mind, keep moving forward. At this tender age, moving forward was all
I had left to me, it was all I could do.

I
t struck him like a body blow as he lay there
upon the hill watching the winged figure of the Pixie speed away
without further comment. Everyone he had ever cared for was dead, he
had no friends, no enemies and nothing left.

What was he meant to do now?

He gazed down at the crater he had left behind, feeling strangely
drawn to it. If he were to go limp and tumble from the hill he would
surely perish and that would be the end of it. If he did that it
would render his entire struggle for survival pointless. He had not
thought at the time about the point of his surviving if everyone he
ever knew was dead, having been too caught up in the moment and the
primal urge to survive.

Then with a quiet certainty, he realised that there would be more
Orcs coming, that they would wonder why there had been no word from
the frontier and that they would blame the Elves for the crater. They
would enslave the lands north of his home and subjugate his people
with atrocities even worse than those few he had witnessed in his
time under occupation.

He couldn't stop now, nor could whatever was left of his people. The
Orcs needed to be further punished for their bloodthirsty assault of
his lands and his home. First he needed to find the army and convince
them to march south upon the Orcish lands, he couldn't do this alone.

'Can't you?' a voice said in his head, startling him.

'I did as you asked.' El-Vador replied, remembering that he had been
tasked by the creature to destroy the Orcs. 'It's over.'

The mocking laughter that greeted him quelled any hope in his heart
that the voice planned to congratulate him and then leave him be.

'You know that this is not over, my young Elf. So long as one of
those green-skinned creatures lives you have cause for vengeance. You
even saw fit to let one of them go free, do not think I had not
witnessed this act. A betrayal of the one thing I had asked you to
do.'

The longer the creature spoke to him, the more El-Vador found his
head throbbing in pain. Between clenched teeth he managed to form a
response.

'Will you leave me be if I convince the Elven army to march upon the
Orcish lands? When they have killed every last Orc with me at their
head will you leave me in peace?'

Rather than appeasing the voice, this suggestion seemed to cause an
even greater chuckle, as if El-Vador had spun a merry yarn filled
with innumerable jokes to savour instead of a desperate plea.

'You really thought there was an army of Elves at your side? Tell
me, why then did none of them speak to you? Why did you not witness
any of them kill your foes? Did you not feel your strength sap
quicker than you had expected in the heat of battle? My dear mistaken
Elf, you were the only one of your kind on that battlefield. The
Elves you fought alongside were mere illusions I conjured to persuade
you to attack when it seemed that you would not. You did all the
killing yourself, every last Orc died at your hands alone.'

It all made sense, he didn't want it to but it did. His body was
completely exhausted from his trials, he was covered in cuts and
scrapes that he couldn't attribute to anything that had happened to
him. The Elves hadn't spoken to him or questioned his taking the lead
in the charge, nor had he heard any of them call out. Every sound had
been that of an Orc, yet it wasn't until now that the growing unease
he had felt had finally come to light. Flashes of memory struck him
as if prompted, the arrows had been fired from his bow and the
ensuing explosions had convinced the Orcs that the were under attack
from a much greater force. He had made his way through the
pandemonium and secured entrance to the stronghold, fighting his way
through to Sarvacts unaided and slaying the brute. The resulting
detonation had destroyed those few that he had not finished off. He
really had killed all of them.

He expected grief to wash over him at the loss of life, shame to take
him for his actions, perhaps even anger at himself for not seeing the
truth sooner. Instead all he felt was hunger, a desire to continue
stronger than anything he had felt before. They would pay for what
they had done to his people, what they had done to him.

'Good,' the voice crooned. 'Finally you understand your place in
this world, we shall speak further when every Orc lies dead at your
feet. There are many trials ahead for you and many battles yet to
fight.'

Fingering the pommel of his hunting knife and stretching out his
injured leg, El-Vador limped away from the crater and into the lands
beyond. There was murder on his mind and vengeance in his heart.

As
a youth I wasn't given much time to grow into this world. My parents
were dead and all that I had known had become dust and ash. Many
would grieve over this until they had joined their immediate
ancestors in the earth, yet I find myself thankful for all that was
done to me. Every experience I faced and all that I have seen in my
many years has come about because of that event. Those who see my
woes as cataclysmic misconstrue the nature of this narrative. Rather
it has been catalytic and in its own way has empowered me to convey
these tales. Consider what you will of them, they are not a cry for
help or a document of my failures. With that in mind I continue with
this new volume for any eyes that may breach its inner meaning.

'
F
ingering the pommel of his hunting knife and
stretching out his injured leg, El-Vador limped away from the crater
and into the lands beyond. There was murder on his mind and vengeance
in his heart.' the Elf said, then was silent.

The sound of a number of quills cautiously being set down was the
only audible thing remaining, the rest of the room stared at El-Vador
and waited for his next words.

Sergeant Sykes
hadn't made much of the creature's first tale to begin with. His
curiosity had been peaked to some degree before encountering the
thing, but it was primarily for the practical purpose of protecting
those around him should it pose a threat to their well-being.

Though the creature's ramblings didn't interest him he
was forced into listening to them, his duty as captain of the guard
demanded that he be wary of every potential threat and as a result he
had to remain with the magi that had summoned El-Vador at all times.

As the tale dragged on it became apparent that their
captive wasn't planning any immediate escape from the cylindrical
energy field that held it in thrall.

A strange sensation had passed over Sykes then, he
resisted the insidious nature of it for as long as he could but
ultimately it overpowered him. The voice of the Elf had a melodious
quality to it as it spoke directly into the guard's mind and as a
result Sykes found himself wanting to hear more.

The Elf did not speak any further, it sat watching them
from its cage with an indecipherable look passing over its features.
The Arch-Inquisitor had still not arrived and it seemed to Sykes that
nobody knew what to do next. So be it.

'Your story doesn't tell us how you came by the power
you have now.' the guard said, causing a sharp intake of breath from
those around him. Clearly they didn't trust the energy field they had
conjured to hold such a beast.

The Elf flashed a smile at him, he felt anything but
reassured by it. There was something predatory and entirely
unwholesome about those gleaming teeth and wicked eyes. Sykes tensed
slightly, expecting the creature to leap out at his throat.

'What is your name, guard captain?' it asked.

'I am called Sykes.' he replied, realising too late that
there may be unseen implications in the creature knowing his name.

'Sykes, eh? A dependable name, from the look of you I'd
say you were a man of duty and honour and respect. You've climbed to
the position you now hold in this life by being punctual and
efficient and lacking bedazzlement when placed in situations such as
this.'

Sykes nodded, he saw no harm in agreeing with the
creature's fair if overly flattering assessment.

'Sykes, you pose an excellent question. Why indeed
should I claim to reveal all about my history only to unveil the
beginning and go no further?'

The creature flexed its legs experimentally, Sykes
raised his weapon and the other guards hesitantly joined him in
preparing to protect the expended magi.

El-Vador's legs stretched out, beyond that he did
nothing to warrant such an increase in caution. It was as if he were
getting comfortable in his surroundings.

'I believe that I shall be doing this for an extended
degree of time, I merely take this moment to compose the bygone
events in their logical order for the next recitation. The second
volume if you will. I believe I know where to begin my next tale.'

Straightening up in the seat slightly, the creature took
a deep breath and spoke once more.

'Hark these words, all that would hear them and judge me. The second
of my tales begins in a time soon after the first ended, listen
carefully.'

Without prompting, the scribes readied their quills and
once more committed the creature's words as El-Vador began to speak.

I know many things, fair reader, as the more
discerning of you have potentially ascertained from the previous
narrative. In spite of my accumulation of knowledge there still
remain darker corners of this world to which I am not privy. Little
did I realise that the focal point of my youthful indiscretion was a
target far beyond my meagre skills. I know not how he survived our
struggle in the stronghold, perhaps it matters not. The beast that
cursed bloody death upon my people managed it all the same. Now that
he had tasted defeat of a different kind, his vengeance had a focal
point in one person. I was the target of his hatred and every faculty
he possessed to bring about my undoing.

S
arvacts
paced through the inner chambers of his sanctum, he was a Chief no
more.

It
was his place to live amongst the darkness and horror that had
brought him exile, for now it had become his vessel for vengeance.
The Elven wastes had been littered with them, the very building
blocks of his future triumph lying face down in the packed ice and
snow. Orcs and Elves alike, all akin to each other when split open to
offer service unto his arts. What better way to wreck havoc upon the
one who had destroyed his previous efforts to expunge the Elven race
from this world than by using the corpses of those he once called
kin?

His
contemporaries had been blind to his studies, they saw only the
misfortune that they had wrought rather than the potential. They had
banished him for his crime and destroyed his experiments before his
very eyes. He was still angered by that thought in the dark hours,
knowing too well that it was a cover. They needed a scapegoat excuse
to get rid of him and had been looking for one for a long time. The
Orcish people were superstitious and naïve, his discoveries
could have been a great boon to their kind. Instead he had been
exiled to the wastes in the hopes that he would die out there. That
would all change in due course, but not before he ended the life of
that which had disfigured him so.