Elfborn: The Quest

Plot and Counterplot

Of course it had yet to occur to the young men that the survivors, no matter how strong and capable, wouldn't be able to leave the port in the same manner the Elfborn had entered. Such a feat of stealth, endurance and strength was beyond the strongest man.

Thoughts of escape, however, were far from Lash and Garrett's minds as they concentrated on the task at hand: finding the survivors without being discovered themselves. Stealthily they crept up the stairs, again alternating their attention between the staircase in front of them and the quay above them. If they were discovered, this whole attempt would go for naught.

With daggers in hand, the shorter weapons far less conspicuous than their silvery mithril swords, they stepped up onto the quay. There the two young men froze, their eyes darting back and forth as they watched the throng streaming by, apparently taking no notice of them.

It was an impressive sight: the masts of the assembled Manadim fleet standing like a forest over the port, dense and as thick as the thickest forests in Tranth. And around the sleek, narrow hulled vessels swarmed a throng of uniformed men, intent on their tasks as they hurried from one point to another, a storm of seeming unceasing activity that was far greater than any the two had experienced before. Many of them spoke in the strange alien tongue they had heard the soldiers use on the beach, further adding to the unimaginable cacophony that thronged about them. The sound and sights were like physical blows to their senses, so intensely did they descend upon them.

But they were blows Lash and Garrett quickly shook off, their sense of duty reminding them of their task. With a motion of his head, Lash indicated the shadows darkening the southern wall of what looked to be a massive warehouse of some kind that sat in close proximity to the quay and its smaller piers, a storage area for equipment and munitions for the moored warships.

Keeping low to the ground, the two Elfborn slipped along the inside edge of the quay, keeping as much open territory between them and the massed Manadim soldiery that surged like a living surf against the unmoving hulls of the warships. While it only took a couple of steps before they reached the shadow, its edges sharp and its darkness deep in contrast to the blinding desert sun that streamed down from the cloudless sky above to quickly heat the stone of the buildings and structures around them to oven-like intensity, it felt like an eternity passed as they carefully made their way into the shadow.

Only when they were as hidden as their camouflaged armor could make them, did the two young men heave a soft sigh of relief. Stolen uniforms would have made the trip easier, but then they would have been without the protection of their mithril armor. Which, despite the climbing temperature, was remaining cool and comfortable much to the two Evindelians' pleasant surprise.

As they hunkered against the warm stone of the building wall, Garrett turned to Lash.

"So, where to now?" he mouthed, not daring to speak with the enemy so close by. The young de Marniet frowned, his thoughts whirling. He couldn't even begin to guess where the Manadim would put the salvaged bodies from the paladin wreckage. Yet, they had to find it and soon; the heat of the day would work quickly to drive the remaining life sparks from their withered shells, leaving them empty and quite dead.

It was only by chance that Garrett, seeing Lash struggling to find an answer to his silent question, turned away to look down along the line of moored ships. In doing so, he was in the perfect position to see the knot of sailors appear with several limp bodies, more of the unfortunate members of the paladin fleet sunk the day before. Although, by their appearance, the bodies were just barely recognizable as men, the Meridian sea life having had their fill of paladin flesh before they were pulled from the water.

Immediately he reached out and clutched Lash by the arm. Startled, Lash looked up and over at Garrett, his expression wondering. And found a smile making its way onto his lips as he too caught sight of the morbid line ferrying the newly recovered bodies into the very warehouse that stood at their backs. 'Now that is a stroke of luck!' he thought as he and Garrett watched the sailors go about their grisly work, their faces and hands covered with white clothes to prevent them from directly touching the dead bodies.

When the final body made its way along the line to disappear around the corner, Lash gave Garrett a light shove in the back, a signal to move forward. Nodding just enough for Lash to catch the gesture, the young Ekossan eased forward, Lash trailing behind. A handful of cautious steps found them standing at the corner, peering around the softened edge to scan beyond in order to determine where they stood in their rescue effort.

The scan quickly yielded that indeed the great building at their backs was a storehouse or warehouse of some sort, containing both equipment, stores and munitions for the ships mooring at the quay they currently stood on. Several doors were open, revealing separate chambers holding different things. There was even a massive chamber behind a set of double doors that looked like they actually slid out of the way instead of swinging like normal doors, the great portals set in some kind of grooves built right into the walls of the warehouse.

And in the great central chamber, easily as tall as the four story building itself was, looked to be a smaller vessel, perhaps half the size of the ones at dock, sitting on a strange looking carriage, a massive flatbed wagon, large enough to carry the vessel easily. It was wheeled and had an equally massive yoke for at least two teams of oxen or horses to pull it out. From what Lash could guess, it was a repair chamber of some kind, several men swarming over the smaller ship stripped to the waist, sweating profusely as they worked with hammers, saws and other woodworking tools, carefully patching what looked to be a rather massive hole in the ship's hull.

It was into a smaller chamber directly beside this large repair facility that Lash and Garrett watched the last body carefully being taken into before the sailors stepped back outside, unwrapping their hands and faces as they talked in low voices amongst themselves. Behind them they left two of the uniformed soldiers the Elfborn had seen liberally scattered throughout the throng, standing guard. Although why anybody would want to guard dead bodies was beyond the two young men.

Regardless of the reason, they now had another obstacle to overcome before they could reach the bodies. A complication they didn't really need. Still, as Lash saw it, they didn't have much choice. With a sigh, he again gave Garrett a tap on the back to indicate he begin moving forward, the young Hybernian clutching his dagger in an abruptly sweating hand.

It was as they carefully slid closer that Lash noticed a great deal of noise was coming out of the repair shop. The sounds of men's voices mixing with the clunk of hammers, the buzz of saws and other less-readily identifiable sounds, a cacophony that would easily mask the sound of their own movements. If they could somehow take advantage of the sound, they might be able to get close enough to overpower the guards and take the door!