In the midst of a war between elves and dwarves, the elves make an attempt at assassination.
“Try to step a little lighter, “ Remin barked as loud as he dared. The tunnels beneath the dwarven city would easily echo his voice and their footsteps, giving away their whereabouts.
Remin’s small-framed body stepped out of a shadow as he whipped his head back and forth attentively. Surely the dwarves would have sentries placed around all entrances to the great dwarven city of Melanchile. The recent skirmishes between the bitterly rivaled elves and dwarves would surely give away the fact that the elves of Naerson Forest would be planning a strike.
Surely enough, as the elven advisors had assumed, the dwarves seemed to be completely oblivious to the presence of a tiny elf, though Remin would still stand nearly a foot taller than many of the dwarves.
Remin swiftly passed from shadow to shadow as a slightly shorter elf followed along with much less grace. Remin often wondered why his elder advisors had demanded that Virshinia be sent with him on this mission. She was very talented for one of her age, but her one hundred and twenty three did not even begin to match Remin’s three hundred and forty-two years of life.
But it did not matter now; Virshinia and Remin were here now and had to combine their skills in unison to annihilate the dwarven king, Geraldug. Suddenly, sounds of footsteps echoed off the walls. The voices sounded as if they were drunk and dwarves were known for their love of drink.
Remin and Virshinia moved behind an ore-filled cart and ducked underneath it. Feet pattered by and left the area. Good, Remin thought, a few less to sneak by. Probably about five dwarves, they both nodded in accord and swept out from beneath the cart.
Using hand signals, they each helped the other’s movements so that while one was moving, the other was sue to be watching their back. A wide chamber opened up before them. Four stone pillars stood in the middle of the large rectangular room. Around them, dwarves gathered as a faint swirling glow pulsated from the center of the altar-like structure.
The small dwarves seemed not to notice the presence of the two sneaky assassins. Cautiously, Remin and Virshinia crept across the chamber toward an opening on the far side, with Virshinia leading the way. As she became perpendicular to the center of the stones, a flash of electrical energy materialized and shot toward the small, slender elf. Virshinia was slammed against the wall they were following.
As if the bolt of energy was a warning call, the dwarves turned and began to bear down upon the pair. Virshinia was stunned as she lay against the wall. She saw the approaching dwarves, but she could not manage to twitch a single muscle. The dwarves withdrew axes and hammers from their belts. Anger filled their eyes, but their movements seemed to be very robotic, like a zombie’s.
A blur blew through the dwarves and three fell before Remin planted a solid foot in another’s side. The sudden burst of action shook Virshinia out of her dilemma. The small elf’s hair waved through the air as she leaped to her feet, dagger in hand. The closest dwarf fell as they choked on the warm sensation of drowning in their own blood.
Six remaining dwarves formed a tight defensive formation, but Remin’s twin scimitars and Virshinia’s dagger charged onward and hacked into the dwarven defenses. Within a minute, all ten dwarves lay dead and mutilated by blades.
The center of the stones thrashed about as it flashed from one color to another in a red, to orange, to brow, and back to red again pattern. It seemed almost as though it had been losing power with the death of the dwarves.
Being the trained killers that they were, Virshinia and Remin moved on without another thought of their victims. Their attention was turned to a door that was hidden, or so it seemed to be, until the previous battle.
The elves trotted to the newly exposed door. Remin peered around the corner to see a long, empty hallway. The ceiling was about six feet high, tall enough for the short-statured races
Using hand signals to let her know to stay behind, Remin made his way down the narrow path. There was a bend about thirty yards away. The path seemed clear, so he motioned to Virshinia.
Virshinia leaped forward and was soon at Remin’s side. Together, they peered around the bend to find yet another large room, but this one was not so plain looking; it was decorated with lots of sophistication.
Many weapons hung on the wall in front of them. It was customary for dwarves to store their best-forged weapons in a special place, very often the throne room. As was this room, they soon realized. Banners hung from the opposite the weapons, showing a magnificent sight to those that were making their way to see King Geraldug.
“Hey! You’re not supposed to be in here! Elves! Battle positions!” A dwarf in the throne room had spotted them. Now they had no choice, they had to finish the job.
Both sprang forward into the dwarven defenses. All fifteen dwarven guards dashed onward to protect their king. These dwarves had the same emptiness that the ones in the previous battle had possessed.
With each move complimenting the other’s, the two soon dispatched all foes in their path except for King Geraldug.
The king shifted uncomfortably, but soon, his posture became confident as a low voice entered his mind. “Invite me in, I can help you overcome the two that face you.” Knowing that speaking aloud wouldn’t do any good, he quietly agreed with the voice.
The king turned pale with Virshinia’s dagger in his eye. A loud scream erupted from Geraldug’s lungs that sounded very near to demonic as the mountain came crashing down, burying all those below it. And then, all was silent.