Chapter 3: The Path of Destiny (pt. 3)

When we saw him last, Jarthen had spent his time bonding with the elves over pipe-weed and eating a fine dinner at the rebel camp's mess tent. Just as he is starting to feel comfortable among the rebels, however, his world will be turned upside down! Bertronius, meanwhile, has likely collapsed from exhaustion at the edge of the forest and will not be appearing in this post.
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Dusk was just starting to settle when Jarthen and the elves were finishing dinner. They were eating lazily, savoring the fact that they were done with all the intense drills and archery exercises until the next day. Suddenly, a clearly distressed gnome, running as quickly as his stubby legs could carry him, shouting frantically in his broken Common Tongue, “Jellihondor! Council! Meet! Quick, Quick!”

Jellihondor was clearly taken aback by the urgency of the gnome’s shouts, and strode forward to meet him, calling “wha’s this now, gnome? Wha’s all ta trouble?” When the gnome arrived at Jellihondor’s feet, the elf inclined his head toward the gnome, and they entered into a brief dialogue in Gnomish (one of many languages Jellihondor spoke fluently) that Jarthen and the other elves could not decipher. Upon hearing the gnome’s brief message, the aged elf turned and hurried off with the gnome in the direction of the camp’s center.

Jellihondor commiserates with a frantic gnome

“What do you think that was all about?” Jarthen asked Rethnaki as they walked toward the camp’s mess area for a much needed refreshment.

“Somet'in’s clearly afoot, me lad,” Rethnaki replied in a tone of concern Jarthen was not accustomed to, “ta gnome was hollerin’ somet'in’ about ta council, so it mus’ be somet'in' serious.”

“Where does the council usually meet? Do you think we could watch?”

Rethnaki regarded Jarthen with a mischievous glint in his eye. He grinned, and as he did, the traces of worry slipped off his merry features. “Now tha’s an idea, lad!” said Rethnaki jovially smacking Jarthen on the back, “their meetin’s ain’t exactly held out in ta open, an' they usually frown on us lowly grunts listenin’ ta their deliberations. I do ha’e a pretty good idea where they usually meet on occasions like this, though…”

Rethnaki led Jarthen by the hand past the camp’s mess area, towards the forest. Jarthen felt his usual trepidation as Rethnaki ducked into the forest, suddenly pulling Jarthen along with him onto a narrow path lined with high hedges, and paved with stones: oddly enough he could not remember ever having noticed this, or any other strange path, into the forest in all of the time he had spent in the Rebel Army.

Rethnaki and Jarthen jogged along the path for just a few minutes, before heading off of it, into the forest proper. The elf motioned for Jarthen to remain silent, and the two lithe figures crept deftly through the woods to a thick stand of trees where the sound of voices was just audible.

Eventually, they reached a place where the trees formed a dense barrier around a clearing shadowed beneath the immense branches of two ancient trees. Jarthen and Rethnaki squatted in a nearby trench, pressed so close together that each could feel the beating of the other’s heart. There were approximately twenty-five figures in the clearing seated on stools, or standing in a circle. The congregants were assembled by race: Jarthen could see Jellihondor and another seven elves, six gnomes, four centaurs, two dwarves, and a single giant. The lad made out some of the creatures he had been first introduced to upon joining the rebel army, including the gnomes Homchi, Gilflesh, and Narchlar, Narchecht the dwarf, and the human-hating centaur Glothnafar.

Jarthen and Rethnaki eavesdropping at the inter-ethnic council's fateful meeting

Rethnaki and Jarthen seemed to have shown up just as the council was being convened, as Homchi called the body to order in near perfect Common Tongue: “So we all know why we’re here then, correct?” Jarthen was shocked to find that the gnome sounded cheerful, almost chipper.

“Nuh,” Narchect ejaculated, “I was jus’ told to come here, nut why.”

“We have been discovered by the Queen’s forces,” Homchi replied. “I am sorry to say that it happened while one of my gnomes was supposed to be on picket. He fell asleep while on duty, and allowed our position to be compromised.”

“How do you know that we were spotted?” Glothnafar asked in his deep, masculine voice. “It does not surprise me that one of your troops was sleeping on the watch, as it was not yet dark and your kind can’t abide sunlight, but how does he know that we were seen if he was not conscious?”

“His sword was taken, and the footprints of a human child were found on the forest path. This means that not only have we been observed, but that it is now just a matter of time before the Queen’s armies are able to take advantage of the forest paths.”

“Clearly,” Jellihondor interjected in a confident voice, “it is a time fer action, an’ speedy action too. Ye know, this reminds me o’ the story o’ the web-footed elf o’ Susselfen. Ye see he…,” but before he could continue what would doubtlessly have been a long and intricate tale, Glothnafar interjected again.

“Jellihondor is right. We must move, and quickly, too quickly for long-winded elvish stories.” At this, Jellihondor let out a loud guffaw and slapped Glothnafar on the haunch. Glothnafar, in spite of himself, grinned at his still laughing friend and continued. “I believe the time is right for Jellihondor and I to strike forth on the mission that we proposed to this council many cycles of the moon prior. If we are to defeat the witch in our lifetimes, we must build our alliances with the peoples of the Dark Lands and the desert, and also come to grips with the prophecy.”

Jellihondor, having regained his composure, added his support to Glothnafar’s statement, “tha’s wha' I was tryin’ ta say about ta web-footed elf o’ Susselfen! Give me twenty o’ me best elves, a giant or two, some dwarves and the boy, and I’ll tell all o’ ye how ta win this war.”

Jarthen and Rethnaki were stunned by what they heard. Dark Lands? A prophecy? Some secret mission in which Jarthen was apparently to play a role? It was so much to take in! Rethnaki could hear Jarthen’s heartbeat quicken.

The rest of the party took turns speaking, and after an hour’s discussion, it was agreed that Jellihondor and Glothnafar would lead a diverse party of approximately thirty rebels north towards the Dark Lands and the San-Kesh Desert. The bulk of the army, it was decided, would head south out of the Erkenheld, absconding between the Queen’s waiting armies, towards the T’Lango archipelago, and a roundabout attack on Elothnin. Seeing that the council was on the point of dispersing, Jarthen and Rethnaki crept back in silence towards the path.

When they reached the relative safety of the enclosed path, Jarthen was nearly bursting with questions for his elvish companion. However, before he could, Rethnaki turned towards him, grasped his shoulders. He leaned in close to keep the council from overhearing through the thin walls of the magic path, and whispered excitedly, “did ye hear that lad? We’re a-goin’ on an adventure!”

THE END
OF CHAPTER 3

PLEASE CONTINUE TO CHAPTER 4