Like with the last book, the story lines are again beginning to come together for a big climax... For those curious, from my current planning, I'll be running the serial till the end of May, at which Book II: The Northlands will end. During the summer I may have an interlude of one post a week, or I may have nothing. More info will come.
Part LV: Overlooking Peak
Date: Yippah 15th, 114 A.U.
The citadel of Tzel-Maret loomed in its crag over many of the surrounding mountains, dwarfed only by the mountain that it stood on, which towered high over the citadel that had nestled in its highest plateau, the citadel that had become the cornerstone of the fortress of ages gone by. Large elven airships constantly hovered and flew over the peak, in vigilance of their Emperor, an elf who had lived longer than any other elf that any could remember. It was this elf that they were going to assassinate.
Monty shivered in his brown garb as he tentatively stepped out of the white camouflaged shelter, looking around for any nearby aircraft. Monty regretfully shed his outer brown coat for the thinner white coat underneath and then lowered himself to the ground, crawling through the bitter snow, until he got to the edges of the cliff.
Looking down over the cliff below, Monty looked at the tall citadel that jutted out from the plateau and at the numerous smaller towers and walls and buildings around it. He noted the tan tents that the Emperor had set up and the larger colorful one that Monty presumed the Emperor stayed in. They had been so close for days now and there was still no sign of being ready to go down.
Sighing, Monty contemplated how much longer he would be staying out here. The fresh air was better than the stifled air in their small camouflaged tents, but…
The bitter cold of a prolonged winter in the mountains decided against Monty staying out. And, shivering, Monty crawled back to the tent, earnestly adopting his brown coat over his white one as he quickly stepped back in the tent.
Monty contemplated what move he ought next to make in Regicide, putting his hand under his chin as he thought hard. Reynyagn absently gazed toward him. Finally, Monty shook his head as he moved a piece.
“Dang it, you trapped that unit,” Monty said, resigning himself to a loss.
A semblance of a smile played across Reynyagn’s face. “So it would appear that I have.”
Monty put his arms against his chest to guard against the cold air that came in through the thin fabric of the tent. “When is that orc infiltrator going to get back with his report.”
“Orglan said that he would send another orc to try and infiltrate if we have nothing by noon tomorrow,” Reynyagn said as he gazed across the board. “Our infiltrator may be dead. Or he may not be able to get here yet because of the storms that have raged across these mountains for the last several days.”
“Tell me about the storms,” Monty grumbled as he reached for a stale piece of bread. “I have been freezing these past couple days because they won’t leave us alone. What I wouldn’t give to be a Sla’ad at this time.”
Reynyagn smiled, moving his arms so as to point out his bare arms, unmoved by the bitter accommodations around them. Leaning over, he moved two of his pieces to capture one of Monty’s.
“At the very least,” Reynyagn said, “we’ve had a good bit of luck hiding from the elven airships.”
“Yeah, well, that’s the least bit of luck we could have,” Monty said. “We could have gone with our missions days ago if we’d been able to get something from the infiltrator sooner.”
“It is all happening according to the plan of the Great One,” Reynyagn said. “And there is no use complaining against what he says.”
“I suppose you’re right,” Monty said, sighing. He pursed his lips. “I worry about Astrid so much… To be apart captured by orcs… possibly dead too, and she still has refused to come to believe.”
“She’s in the hands of the Great One, now,” Reynyagn said. “Our duty is to do what we can to return justice to this land, which is best done here.”
“I suppose you’re right,” Monty said, moving three pieces. “I just pray that it is in the plan of the Great One to keep her safe.”
Yippah 16th, 114 A.U.
“We have our report! We have our report!” An orc ran into the tent where Monty sat with Reynyagn and Orglan eating breakfast.. Monty hurriedly turned around to face the excited messenger, jubilant with the news of a report.
“What does he say?” Monty asked, intent to hear everything about the situation as possible.
“The snowstorms prevented him from getting his message anytime sooner,” the orc said. “He wasn’t able to get to the meeting point until dawn today. He confirmed that the Emperor is here, as we had already guessed.”
“At least that’s confirmed,” Reynyagn said.
“Yes,” the orc said. “He said that the Emperor is here to find something in the ruins of Tzel-Maret, possibly in the Citadel.”
“What could the Emperor want in Tzel Maret?” Orglan asked, looking a bit confused.
“I don’t know,” the orc said. “He was very tight lipped about the whole operation. As is, the snow storm halted his efforts and from what I can gather, the Emperor isn’t leaving till he finds whatever he’s looking for. He brought in some elven guide yesterday to lead him through the Citadel today to find his object.”
“The Emperor will be in the Citadel today, then,” Orglan confirmed.
“Yes,” the orc said. “He should be there right now, I would guess. He was very clear that he refused to waste any time at all in getting it done. Our spy also said that even if Jaigran found it today, that he’d probably stick around for at least tomorrow, but beyond that…”
“It’s done,” Orglan said, turning to Reynyagn. “You ready?” Reynyagn nodded.
Orglan turned back to the messenger. “Then tell every one to be ready. In a half hour we begin the operation just as planned. Everyone must be in their specific places. You got it?”
“Yes, zar!” the orc messenger said, and he left the room.
“It’s time then,” Monty said, standing up.
“It’s time,” Reynyagn said. And he tightened his sword-strap.
Part LV: Overlooking Peak
Date: Yippah 15th, 114 A.U.
The citadel of Tzel-Maret loomed in its crag over many of the surrounding mountains, dwarfed only by the mountain that it stood on, which towered high over the citadel that had nestled in its highest plateau, the citadel that had become the cornerstone of the fortress of ages gone by. Large elven airships constantly hovered and flew over the peak, in vigilance of their Emperor, an elf who had lived longer than any other elf that any could remember. It was this elf that they were going to assassinate.
Monty shivered in his brown garb as he tentatively stepped out of the white camouflaged shelter, looking around for any nearby aircraft. Monty regretfully shed his outer brown coat for the thinner white coat underneath and then lowered himself to the ground, crawling through the bitter snow, until he got to the edges of the cliff.
Looking down over the cliff below, Monty looked at the tall citadel that jutted out from the plateau and at the numerous smaller towers and walls and buildings around it. He noted the tan tents that the Emperor had set up and the larger colorful one that Monty presumed the Emperor stayed in. They had been so close for days now and there was still no sign of being ready to go down.
Sighing, Monty contemplated how much longer he would be staying out here. The fresh air was better than the stifled air in their small camouflaged tents, but…
The bitter cold of a prolonged winter in the mountains decided against Monty staying out. And, shivering, Monty crawled back to the tent, earnestly adopting his brown coat over his white one as he quickly stepped back in the tent.
Monty contemplated what move he ought next to make in Regicide, putting his hand under his chin as he thought hard. Reynyagn absently gazed toward him. Finally, Monty shook his head as he moved a piece.
“Dang it, you trapped that unit,” Monty said, resigning himself to a loss.
A semblance of a smile played across Reynyagn’s face. “So it would appear that I have.”
Monty put his arms against his chest to guard against the cold air that came in through the thin fabric of the tent. “When is that orc infiltrator going to get back with his report.”
“Orglan said that he would send another orc to try and infiltrate if we have nothing by noon tomorrow,” Reynyagn said as he gazed across the board. “Our infiltrator may be dead. Or he may not be able to get here yet because of the storms that have raged across these mountains for the last several days.”
“Tell me about the storms,” Monty grumbled as he reached for a stale piece of bread. “I have been freezing these past couple days because they won’t leave us alone. What I wouldn’t give to be a Sla’ad at this time.”
Reynyagn smiled, moving his arms so as to point out his bare arms, unmoved by the bitter accommodations around them. Leaning over, he moved two of his pieces to capture one of Monty’s.
“At the very least,” Reynyagn said, “we’ve had a good bit of luck hiding from the elven airships.”
“Yeah, well, that’s the least bit of luck we could have,” Monty said. “We could have gone with our missions days ago if we’d been able to get something from the infiltrator sooner.”
“It is all happening according to the plan of the Great One,” Reynyagn said. “And there is no use complaining against what he says.”
“I suppose you’re right,” Monty said, sighing. He pursed his lips. “I worry about Astrid so much… To be apart captured by orcs… possibly dead too, and she still has refused to come to believe.”
“She’s in the hands of the Great One, now,” Reynyagn said. “Our duty is to do what we can to return justice to this land, which is best done here.”
“I suppose you’re right,” Monty said, moving three pieces. “I just pray that it is in the plan of the Great One to keep her safe.”
Yippah 16th, 114 A.U.
“We have our report! We have our report!” An orc ran into the tent where Monty sat with Reynyagn and Orglan eating breakfast.. Monty hurriedly turned around to face the excited messenger, jubilant with the news of a report.
“What does he say?” Monty asked, intent to hear everything about the situation as possible.
“The snowstorms prevented him from getting his message anytime sooner,” the orc said. “He wasn’t able to get to the meeting point until dawn today. He confirmed that the Emperor is here, as we had already guessed.”
“At least that’s confirmed,” Reynyagn said.
“Yes,” the orc said. “He said that the Emperor is here to find something in the ruins of Tzel-Maret, possibly in the Citadel.”
“What could the Emperor want in Tzel Maret?” Orglan asked, looking a bit confused.
“I don’t know,” the orc said. “He was very tight lipped about the whole operation. As is, the snow storm halted his efforts and from what I can gather, the Emperor isn’t leaving till he finds whatever he’s looking for. He brought in some elven guide yesterday to lead him through the Citadel today to find his object.”
“The Emperor will be in the Citadel today, then,” Orglan confirmed.
“Yes,” the orc said. “He should be there right now, I would guess. He was very clear that he refused to waste any time at all in getting it done. Our spy also said that even if Jaigran found it today, that he’d probably stick around for at least tomorrow, but beyond that…”
“It’s done,” Orglan said, turning to Reynyagn. “You ready?” Reynyagn nodded.
Orglan turned back to the messenger. “Then tell every one to be ready. In a half hour we begin the operation just as planned. Everyone must be in their specific places. You got it?”
“Yes, zar!” the orc messenger said, and he left the room.
“It’s time then,” Monty said, standing up.
“It’s time,” Reynyagn said. And he tightened his sword-strap.
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