Chapter 4
The Elf Hunt
A week passed, and Dearekk’s nightmares never ceased. He was starting to fear sleep and the terrors and mysteries it brought. Voices called out to him in his dreams, crying out strange names, and terrible screams of agony.
Yet, even though his lack of sleep, Dearekk could not have been happier when the first day of the Elf Hunt came around. He quickly woke and went to meet his father on the balcony after he had prepared his armour.
Of course, there was an unexpected, and unwelcome surprise when he arrived. What he saw was the entire town, and soldiers staring up at him, and his father. His mouth abruptly became dryer than a desert, and his mind became completely blank. In all of his years, he had never like giving speeches. There were too many things that could go wrong.
Luckily his father saved him from humiliation. “This is my son and heir, Prince Dearekk. He will be joining and will help lead the elf hunt!” The soldiers cheered wildly, but the civilians simply murmured among themselves. Casting a nervous glance at Rith, he caught his eye. Rith simply grinned and gave him a thumbs-up. Smiling, Dearekk turned back to the crowd with a much more confidant look on his face.
The King began his speech about why they did the Elf Hunt and spoke about how they betrayed their ancestors. Even the townsfolk were cheering at the end, and all that Dearekk could do was look at his father with an admiring look.
Soon after, a king, five hundred elite soldiers and one naïve prince set out to catch the deadliest game, the elves.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
When night fell, the company halted the tedious march through the thick forest to set up camp. Dearekk was with Rith, helping set up, when a messenger arrived.
“My Prince!” a young man, a little older than himself, was walking up to him. “Your father would like to speak to you.”
Dearekk looked up. “Yes, thank you,” he spoke in a tired voice. He then turned to Rith. “Rith, would it be okay if I left you to finish this up?” he asked.
Rith just looked at him. “No, Dearekk,” he said with a sarcastic tone, “I expect you to disobey direct orders from your father, the King, so you can help me set up a tent.” The march had tired everyone out.
Dearekk just shrugged it off and followed the messenger. As he walked through the camp, he saw men everywhere. They were all laughing, talking, and just…well hanging out. He suddenly felt a pang of jealousy, and a wish to be normal, just like them. Not to have all these responsibilities, plus the burden of a kingdom on his shoulders.
Before he knew it, he was standing in a tent, his father dressed in full battle armour in front of him.
“Dearekk,” his father said, never looking up from his maps. The maps were elaborately designed, with marshes, forests, and clearings all delicately drawn in. In the center of the forest were two golden cubes, which Dearekk assumed to be their troops. On the edge, sliver spheres surrounded the forest in a wide circle. “Dearekk, I need you to do me a favour.”
Dearekk snapped out of his trance. “What is it?” he asked, bewildered and wondering why his father would call him only to do a simple favour.
The King began pushing the silver spheres around to form a smaller circle within the forest. Then he turned to his son. “I need you and Rith to take 100 men and tell the troops on the outside of the forest to move in, tightening the circle.”
“Why me?” Dearekk asked, still confused. Any soldier could do this, so why send the crowed prince?
His father stood up and looked him in the eyes. “Dearekk, I will not be around forever. I need you to learn how to lead.” his father held up his hand when his son tried to protest. “Yes I know that you have studied strategies, and combat skills, but leading is another thing entirely. Take your friend Rith for example. He has no noble descent; you could say that he is a lowly farm boy, yet all the people love him, because he understands them. My son,” his father stepped closer to him, “You can be right about strategies every time, but without knowing how to lead, your people will never really know you.”
Dearekk looked away. “Yes, father,” was all he could reply.
“Good,” the King spoke. Then he walked up to Dearekk and laid a hand on his shoulder. “You’re a good boy, Dearekk. One day you will make a great King.” With that he left, and Dearekk stood there, feeling like a complete and utter failure for no particular reason.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Dearekk and Rith were riding through the forest, when a though came to Dearekk.
“So, how many troops do we have to tell about this?” he asked his friend.
Rith let out a sigh. “Ten,” he stated, nothing indicating in is voice that it was a good thing. He looked at Dearekk sceptically. “You know,” he observed, “for a prince you sure do get stuck with the lousy jobs.”
Dearekk shot him an annoyed look, even though it was true. Whether it was mopping up horse stalls, or memorizing three pages of battle strategies, whenever he needed to “learn something,” he always got the unpleasant tasks. Still, this one was better than the other ones he had gotten in the past. “Shut up and be happy you were sick the time I had to clean up the stables!” he shot back. “Anyway, what if we split up,” he continued his thought. “You take fifty men, I take fifty men; we could cut the time in half.”
Rith looked slightly disturbed, “I don’t know, Dearekk. You have to remember that there are elves in this area…”
“Come on,” Dearekk scoffed, “we’ll be fine.”
Rith let out another sigh, “Okay, Dearekk,” he conceded, “I hope you know what you’re doing…” with that he turned on his horse and let out a whistle. “Fifty,” he called out, “with me!” Fifty men instantly were at his side, while the other fifty came to Dearekk.
Rith turned to Dearekk, “Don’t run into any elves, my prince!” he said with a wink.
Dearekk just laughed. “Save your charm for the ladies, old friend!” he chuckled, a look of amusement in his eyes. “They appreciate it more than I do!” That earned laughs from everyone, including Rith.
“You take the west sectors,” Rith told him, “we’ll take the east.” With that he turned to his troops and cried out, “To the east!”
All Dearekk could do was shake his head in mirth. “Come!” he called out to them. “We pull the troops in and be back for dinner!”
The men cheered, thankful for some competition, and Dearekk smiled, this was going quite well.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
They were on their way back when then ran into an ambush. Dearekk was looking at the sun. He had just determined that they had a good hour before sunset…and dinner when the first arrow brushed past his cheek, splitting it open.
His teeth clenched in pain, as he felt the blood seep out of the wound, but all the same, he kept a level head and yelled for his men to get in a defensive position. They did, and almost immediately a deadly hail of arrows rained down on them, dropping about ten.
For a moment, Dearekk was in shock, the only deaths he had ever witnessed were that of livestock, and other animals, never living-breathing men, whom he had just been talking to not minutes before. Then he came to his senses.
“Look for a weakness!” he shouted, trying to keep calm. But it was getting harder by the second as their greatest enemy was slowly seeping its way into all their minds. Panic. The men were scared, he could tell that not even looking at their faces. Ambushes were a good strategy, but it was dangerous for the attacker as well as the victim. In almost every ambush, a moment of weakness occurred when mass chaos invaded both parties. His only hope was to find that moment and use it to his advantage. Of course advantage was a relative term, winning the battle was far from his greatest fantasies. Right now, his best-case scenario was to get his men out alive.
The amount of death was overwhelming. Dearekk saw a soldier shoot an arrow through a white haired elf, only to watch the soldier be killed moments later by an elf girl screaming something. She arrived at the other elf’s side, only to spin around and continue fighting. Then, the moment was upon them. The elves broke their circle around the clearing and rushed in, attacking from every side. Most would lose hope at this point, but Dearekk only saw opportunity.
“Sun side!” he screamed over the raging battle, and pointed his sword towards the setting sun, praying that his men would understand. A few did, and the rest followed. Soon all the men were attacking one side of the elf attack. The men, knowing that their life depended on their perseverance, fought with renewed vigour.
Seconds felt like years, as Dearekk waiting in agony for the line to break. Everything seemed to happen in slow motion, the line breaking, the men rushing forward. He heard himself yelling for the men to run, but it was as if he was listening to someone else. That couldn’t be his voice, could it?
“Go! Go! Go!” he called out to his men, screaming for them to hurry. The elf girl did not look happy, her eyes were glowing green and hatred flowed off of her like heat. He was so focused on getting the few men he had left out of that place of death, that he didn’t see an elf with black hair and fair skin running up to him. Dearekk only noticed the elf boy when he started screaming and swinging his bow, as he also fought with arrows. Dearekk felt a searing pain in his left calf as his knee buckled and he fell to the ground. The last thing that he saw was the swing of a bow towards his head. His sight flashed red before everything went black.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Dearekk awoke to a voice calling out for help. The first thing he felt was a horrible pain in his head.
“I found him! Sir! I found him! And he’s alive!” he heard a man’s voice yell. Dearekk couldn’t help but wince. The mere sound of the birds chirping was making his headache worsen by the second, let alone this man’s yelling.
“Dearekk!” he heard a new voice bellow. He knew that voice from somewhere, but he couldn’t quite match the voice with a face. “Dearekk, buddy, open your eyes if you can hear me!”
Honestly, opening his eyes was the last thing Dearekk wanted to do, but all the same, he slowly wedged them open, using will and curiosity in his favour. He saw a familiar pair of blue eyes, and a handsome face framed with blonde hair staring down at him, concern etched in the man’s expression.
“Hey, Rith.”
Rith visibly relaxed right away. “By the One, Dearekk! Don’t ever do that to me again!” he exclaimed. “Do you know what your father would do to me if I came back only to tell him you were dead?” Rith looked him over, carefully. “How do you feel?” he asked in a calmer voice.
“Truthfully? Remember that one time that those two runaway horses hit both you an me when I was seven?” Rith nodded. “Multiply that by about five.” Rith’s nod quickly turned into a grimace. Dearekk closed his eyes; the sunlight was making his eyes burn. Wait, sunlight? His eyes shot open again. Sure enough, golden sunlight was lazily drifting into the clearing; Dearekk could actually see the dust particles in the morning air. “Did I sleep out here?” he cried out as his eyes widened in disbelief.
A chuckle escape Rith’s lips. “Yeah, well, it was more like you passed out and didn’t wake up until now.”
Another low groan pried its way out of his lips as memories of the day before came rushing back. “My men…” he managed to whisper.
“About a third made it,” Rith assured him. He looked at Dearekk, disapproval evident in his eyes. “That was a brave, but stupid move, Dearekk, waiting until your men made it out.” He shook his head, “Any normal officer would be rewarded for his bravery, but you’re not a officer, Dearekk! You’re the Prince of Zauluke! You can’t go around sacrificing yourself for random soldiers!”
All that Dearekk could do was let out a deep sigh. “Rith, I know that I’m not going to win this argument, but I can at least prolong it. Will you please refrain from lecturing me until after we get back to camp?”
That startled Rith out of his little rant. He gently helped Dearekk to his feet and aided him onto his chestnut coloured horse. As the horse began to trot along the forest path, Dearekk’s calf began to burn; the cut was deep, that much he could tell. The trees they were passing were quickly becoming blurred, until he could no longer tell one from another. He often felt strong hands on his arms, keeping him on the horse. When a white blur came into view, Dearekk knew that they were at camp. He swayed for a moment, before falling off the horse. He found strong arms waiting for him, once again. Good old Rith, he was always there for Dearekk, ready to catch him whenever he fell, sometimes literally. While everything was losing its colour and becoming a huge grey haze, he heard a voice.
“It’s worse than we first thought. We need to get him to a physician.”
Was that Rith? He didn’t sound like Rith, he sounded grave. His normal relaxed undertone was replaced with a rigid, angry one. It was suddenly changed to a caring, almost desperate voice.
“Hang in there Dearekk. Just…hang in there.”
Everyone was so busy with the injured prince that they didn’t see glowing green eyes staring at them from the brush.