Tag: Hai

New Plans

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Image credit: animalstime.com / S.T. Ranscht

“This wasn’t the plan, Anthony.”

The Stinger shrugged. “What can I say? The General’s schedule opened up at the last minute, and he’d like to conclude this arrangement without delay.”

General Hai hovered above an assortment of Stingers, both Creepers and Flyers. Scorched spots on nearby plants testified to his touch.

Peering through the haze emanating from the smoldering wasp, Elliot asked, “How did you enter Fen without being seen and apprehended?”

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Dark Roads

Glad you could join us for the next stormy episode of Elliot’s Adventures. If you’re new here, you can catch up by returning to the beginning, and reading really fast…

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Photo credit: Yingster Z

Leaving Cyrus to watch over Miranda and her brood, the King led the three Knights away from the Bower and the Hive in the only direction that made sense to him: toward the enemy. His daughter was out here somewhere, and he would find her or die trying.

Rain beat on everything, washing away evidence of anyone passing in either direction, drowning out all sounds but its own, and obscuring to a blur anything further away than they were from each other. Even when lightning shredded the darkness, grotesque jerking shadows wrestled reality into submission.

The Assassin was just as surprised as they were when they met.

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It’s Time

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Photo credit: Tammy Bergstrom

“We’ve heard enough!” The single voice drowned in the assent that rumbled through the hastily convened Wildlands Congress of Ants.

“War breeds carrion,” another called. “It’s good for us no matter who wins!”

Commandant Marabunta banged her staff against a hollow log. “We are charged with more than disposal. The Alliance wants us to assist their side in combat. Ambassador Arturo can’t guarantee access to their enemy’s dead unless his Alliance wins. So I ask, who would march east to join with this new Alliance in battle against The Arids tyrant?”

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Getting to Know Her Friends

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Photo credit: Burrard-Lucas

Relegating her new worry about Cassandra’s safety to her trust in King Arnie, Queen Lilian faced her duty to interview the Alliance leaders she had requested to visit her. Too many lives depended on their secret plans for her to trust Fen’s fate to leaders she didn’t know.

“Commander Torlex of The Arids’ Rebel Army, Sirehta of the Viper Brotherhood, I invited you here to share your plans so that we may coordinate our strategies.”

Chuckling deep in his throat, rain dripping from his protruding chin, and his eyes thoroughly bloodshot from lack of sleep, Commander Torlex turned to Sirehta. “It was your brilliant idea, I think you deserve the honor of sharing it with the Queen.”

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When the Storm Breaks

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Photo credit: S.T. Ranscht

“I remember the process you’re talking about, Arnie.” With her eyes closed, Queen Lilian gazed at the pointed end of a memory that still cut into her heart. “We haven’t used it since Mother died.” She opened her eyes and willed her face to smile.

King Arnie asked, “Could we use it for Randall?”

“Of course. We’ll prepare a work area tonight, and they can bring his body in the morning.”

“Thank you, Lilian.” The King looked at his feet. “I tried to keep him safe, and I failed.”

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Casualties

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Bog’s army had arrived in time to help push General Hai’s troops back across Fen’s border, at least for the night. Now, at the end of a day filled with conferences, bad news, and tough decisions, Queen Lilian heard the same remorse in King Arnie’s apology that she’d expressed to Vernon earlier.

“No one saw it coming, Arnie.” she said. “What’s important is that Bog’s army is here now, and Commander Torlex has taken the Arids’ Alliance Army across the northwestern corner of Fen to cut through the enemy.”

“Torlex is a cagey one,” King Arnie confided. “He’s hinted he has a secret attack plan that’s going to take the General by surprise, but only his army knows what it is.”

“Do you trust him?” Lilian asked.

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Last Flight Out

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Photo credit: Thomas Marent

Randall’s first flight made such an impression, he decided his flight home would be his last flight ever. He’d survived all the jostling only by tying his ankles to the cargo net and hanging on for dear life. Teddy might be enchanted because Trevor can ‘fly’, he thought, but that’s just leaping with style. When I tell him about this, he’s going to know what flying is really like.

Maybe his relief to be on the ground enhanced his senses to make Fen seem soul-sustainingly green and rich with everything that made life worth living. Or maybe it really was. He understood why the General wanted it, but the world would be a less hopeful place if the winds of war contaminated Fen’s light zephyrs with the stench of death.

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Back Channel Communications

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Holding up both arms, the Assassin moved into the open and stopped well away from the Prince. “As you can see, I also am un-armed. Or un-clawed, to be more precise, thanks to your dear friend Randall. You wouldn’t happen to know where he is, would you? He ran off before I could thank him properly.” Elliot said nothing. “No?” Anthony asked. “Ah well, if it’s meant to be… So, Elliot the Faithful. How good to see you again.”

Neither of them moved.

“What do you want, Anthony?”

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Sergeant Bufo

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Photo credit: David Gray

“Hold on there, Jeremy!” A heavy voice rolling from a wide-mouthed toad on her way down the steps stopped him. “The prisoner stays right there. Go get the Queen’s Liaison.”

Jeremy hopped to it.

Sergeant Marina Bufo was a commanding presence. Even larger than the Crone, she filled the confined space with the illusion that Duggla had no air of her own to breathe.

“So you’ve got something to say, huh?” Sergeant Bufo asked.

“Not to you,” the Crone mumbled taking shallow, suffocated breaths.

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The Message

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Photo credit: Justin Owings

The Crone’s windowless cell in Fen’s lockup allowed her to take one step in any direction before bumping into a wall or a gate of narrowly spaced bars. Anger and contempt seething in her gut, she didn’t hear the stealthy scratch of clawed feet creeping down the rough hewn stairway leading from the jail above to the shadow-filled dungeon she occupied.

She jumped, bumping her head on the low ceiling, at the honeyed whisper in the dark.

“Good evening, Madam Duggla. I come with a message from the General.”

Gasping, the Crone spread her bulk against the back wall as far from the bars as it was possible to be.

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