Going Feet First Ch. 06

As she started to wipe her face, an image formed at the back of her mind and prodded its way into Tanza's sight. But before she could truly see it she forced it back and cast it from her thoughts and memory. When her mind tried to bring it forth she crushed it down again.

So little had the chance to surprise her in her lifetime, but the one thing she always managed to keep a surprise, to keep her guessing, was what her future daughters were destined to look like. She never knew the appearance beyond the aura of her first two children and that record would not be spoiled on her third. Ten months in the dark always proved a price well paid for the joy of seeing them for the first time the day they came into this world.

Closing her eyes and finally releasing her giddy giggles, Tanza made mental contact with her other sisters who had enjoyed the human's love and summoned them to her. It did not take long for them to depart from their duties and file into the tree. Together they gathered in a semi-circle around their Elder's throne and were literally glowing with joy at seeing Tanza's glowing midriff. Then, one after another, their auras shifted as well.

Tanza sucked in a breath and covered her mouth with both hands at the sight, the corners of her eyes creasing as she tried to relax her unrelenting smile.

Zaky, the young, violet-skinned elf that was once a virgin until Galen had tended to her, summoned a light grey aura to her belly to supplant her sunshine-yellow glow. Bacil, the clan cook with the iron grey hair and pale green skin drew a white aura out from her deep green. The Fire Twin, Imichi, her red aura only flushed an ever-so-slightly darker shade of crimson around her pale white belly, which had both her and her sister giggling as they both rubbed around her belly button. And lastly there was Urit. An Elf with light brown skin and glossy black hair, a pale blue aura and a smile as wide as the forest as her belly was accented with a blue glow darker than her own.

As Tanza stood up and hugged her sisters, the visions of their children came to her mind. From each of them she saw strong, beautiful, Elves gifted with an unusual magic talent. Especially the younglings growing within Zaky and Imichi. What the Elder Elf witnessed from them surprised even her.

"Would you like to hear your daughter's gifts?" she asked Zaky.

"Is she going to be special?"

"Well, when she grows older... I will be able to step down once I have her in control of her powers of a Blessed."

Zaki couldn't fight the broad grin creasing the whole of her cheeks. With a squealing cheer she threw her arms around Tanza, and in return the Elder held her close and gave her a soft kiss atop her head. Blesseds like herself were few and far between, coming around only once every half millennia, if then. It would allow her to retire from her role as the Tree Elf Elder and once again find her own path in the world beyond their forest.

Catching the sideways glance they received as well, the Fire Twins asked in unison, "Will our daughter be special?"

Chuckling and softly rubbing Zaky's back, Tanza answered, "I see only perfect mirror images of the both of you in both of your daughters."

There were several unified cries of glee as the new mothers crowded the twins, smothering them with kisses and congratulations. The Twins were the first of their kind in the clan, and now that they caught another pair was something Tanza couldn't even fathom had she not saw it herself. It would be interesting how the rest of the clan took the news as it definitely warranted a celebratory feast.

Galen, you magical, young man, the Elder thought as she started sending her thoughts out to her sisters. I wish upon you and Celia the great joy you have brought us today. May Necela bless.

...........................

Icy water flowed out of a spout in the ceiling and Galen stumbled under the chilling stream in a daze. Crimson tinted the water running through his clothes, turning into a red river which ran toward the drain in the middle of the large shower room. Free of his helmet and gear, the Private stood clothed but barefoot as the aftermath of battle washed away from his attire

With a distant look on a fatigued face, he lifted his bloodied hands and blinked as the water running off his chin washed more of the red from his palms. When he could see his own skin color again he turned his hands over and washed away the red traces on his knuckles to reveal their partially shredded skin.

Even as his hands were cleaned of the physical mess, he couldn't shake the feeling like he was still standing in a cloud of filth. His chest echoed with a hollow ache while the images of what he had done and witnessed jumbled around within his head like the scenes of some horror film. And that vigorous tremble returned to his left hand.

Necela cut down like a common mortal. The bodies scattered across the tunnel floor, both human and Drow... At least four of the dead Elves being some he had gotten personal with, in either training or in bed, during his time in the Underdark. There were the corpses of their fallen foes, all being stripped of everything they had and then getting stacked like garbage at the side of the tunnel.

Then there were the men from Redding who had survived... though they didn't for very much longer. Jrastra and one of the Red Sister leaders made certain of that after the women of their units had finished whatever revenge they wished to reap. Their actions were something the young soldier did his best to forget in the aftermath of that bloody battle.

Before Galen even realized it, he had fallen to his knees and lost whatever was left in his stomach. He coughed, and then hurled to let out his guts again. The world spun as he came down onto his hands, and between his heavy breaths he spat out whatever bile still lingered in his mouth.

As the sickness passed, he remained on all fours, collecting himself as the aftermath fully sank in. That forty Drow were gone. Nine of them part of the Sun-kissed with countless more wounded. He almost retched again as he thought of how he found Felyn, an axe buried into the stomach plate of her armor to an unknown depth. She had begged for him to heal her, and with everything he had he tried.

His hands didn't, couldn't, light up. The vine and feather tattoos that once decorated his left arm were gone and with their absence, everything Galen had been gifted with from the Elves and Necela was proven taken by the witch just as the princess had been.

The loss didn't stop Galen from using his last medical kit and doing what he could. With Keetle's help he tore the Empath out of her armor and got the axe out of her belly so he could spring into action. Starting her with a shot of morphine, he had poured sulphonamide powder over the wound before wrapping it up in gauze the best he could. It felt to be the longest minutes of his life as he pressed both hands down onto her belly, keeping pressure on where the axe had gone in. But he wasn't a medic. He only performed what first aid he knew and cursed himself for not being able to do more.

When she realized what Galen was doing, Keetle used her magic to replace his hands and the Private was able to cinch a wrapping around the Empath's midsection to keep the bandages tight to her body. After that, they could only wait and watch as the aide fought for her life, the Private unable to do a damn thing beyond what he had already done.

Under the warming water of the shower, he looked to his hands and tried to strike them up into a glow for a hundredth time. He could still feel magic pulsing within him, powering his Dark Vision, but no trick he knew brought the light back to his fingertips. That witch had stolen all of it from him.

Galen clenched his fists as his nostrils started flaring with forced breaths. He was going to kill her. He was going to make her regret everything she did this day. She was going to wish she never stepped foot into the darkness of the underground.

Cursing Haru's name Galen let loose a battle cry and slammed his fists into the floor, his tears joining the streams of water running his face. As the women of the Red Sisters, Royal guard, and Sun-Kissed died without him there to heal their wounds, she would die for denying him the power to do so.

...

After wringing his clothes dry the best he could and cleaning his gear as much as possible, Galen donned his armor pieces and got his clothes back on. Near the exit to the baths was a small alcove in the wall, barely high enough for him to stand up straight. Its walls were plated in sheets of tanneran and stepping inside he could feel the heat pouring out from the glowing, blue metal.

An enchantment of some kind was at work in the closet, he guessed, as he thought of how his cuirass could change its temperature to accommodate his current conditions. Such as how it now produced heat to counteract the cold of his damp clothes.

Heat off the walls was mirrored by heat coming off his chest armor to spawn trails of steam rolling off his clothes in moments. When he felt dry enough to be comfortable, he went for his weapons against the wall beside the exit. Picking up his rifle, he took notice of how the stock had fresh, bare patches in the moss where the original walnut was showing through once more. Given how Haru's beast batted him with a homerun strike, he wasn't entirely surprised.

In addition, his pistol had a new crack in the right handgrip and a gouge in the slide near the muzzle. Thinking back to how he had thrown it after the witch disappeared, he was lucky those were the only things done to it. A Drow could've taken it, the barrel could've been damaged, something could've been bent... he got off easy considering the alternatives.

Fully equipped with all his gear, he opened the exit door and stepped into the long hallway of the barracks. Along the walls on both sides of the corridor were the doors of the personal rooms of the Sun-kissed, the closet's worth of space that the Private called his own being among them.

As he hesitantly paced down the hall, he saw the room next to his being emptied of the last of its previous owner's property. Same with the room five doors down from him. And another down and across the hall from there. Nine rooms total were being stripped of the personal effects of the nine Drow that would never come back to claim them.

Giving a sigh, Galen carried his somber cloud onward, past the male servants clearing out the rooms and to the door that carried on into the stairwell. When he was cast into darkness with the closing of the door behind him, his eyes buzzed and his Darkvision kicked in to light up a glowing life aura right in front of him. Keetle was leaning against the center pillar that the stairs spiraled up around and twirled a knife in the air with her force magic.

Upon seeing the surfacer she made a sweeping motion with her head up the steps and started climbing.

"How's Felyn?" Galen asked, marching up the steps behind the Aide.

"Fine. Blood stopped and she sleeps."

His lungs emptied as his shoulders dropped, Thank God.

"And Zyrtwi?"

The knife twirling above Keetle's head fell and landed in her open palm to be returned to its sheathe. "Don't know. Sword went in gap in armor under arm. She's sent to Faerdron."

All done in the first moments of the battle. Once the Drow had gotten themselves collected and focused, the attackers couldn't stand much of a chance. But in those initial seconds when they had surprise and the crippling effect of the flare, the Dark Elves paid a heavy price. Galen could only wonder how much worse it could've been had he not spotted that first man coming out from the ceiling... if he hadn't given a warning.

A slight trace of a smile appeared as he thought about the lives he saved. All things considered, maybe he should focus on that.

As they reached the top of the staircase, Keetle waved her hand and the door leading to the main hall opened to let the lights from inside pour out. His vision returning to normal, Galen followed the Aide and joined the gathering encircling the three Commandants who leaned over the round planning-table under the light of the chandelier. Both Dreek and Jrastra looked up and took notice of him, the former motioning him in while the latter spoke out with a raised voice.

"You have your orders, prepare what you need and review your roles! I want you all able to tell me your objectives backward in a surface tongue by departure time!"

The Drow in the room acknowledged the first Commandant and made their way to the exits. In a tone that sounded none-too-pleased, Aufryn'uit grumbled lowly to Dreek and cast a nasty glare at Galen. Taking notice, the Private returned the second Commandant's spiteful look as she pushed off and moved for the door leading outside.

"Galen, come here," Dreek ordered.

He watched with narrowed eyes as Aufryn'uit disappeared into the exit tunnel before acknowledging the third Commandant. When he approached the table, he looked down at the three large maps spread out over its wooden surface. Several arrows drawn in multiple locations all pointed to the same area of what looked to be city on one map, while the area they pointed to was blown up into a floor plan on another.

With great interest, Galen peered at the human script at the top of the map. He recognized the characters from before. They meant something he knew but he couldn't quite figure it out. He looked to the first map again, which detailed what looked to be a giant crack in yellow earth... Kind of like the trench that housed a certain place he intended to raid.

"This is... Redding?"

"The map of the Sundered Trench, Redding, and the King's castle," Dreek clarified, pointing to each of the layouts as she listed them. "All the pieces fall into place tomorrow night which, by luck, is a new moon. The darkness will be an indispensable ally."

Scanning over the map of the city, Galen found an area that looked to be taken up by a single, massive house. It was circled in red ink with several notes scrawled over it with arrows and symbols drawn over the rooftops and streets leading to it. Closer inspection had Galen recognizing the symbols as bows, horses, swords...

"Is this Fretheim's place?" he asked.

"With guard locations, horse patrols, and plans of attack. Once the main mission is complete, we go after the Princess and your mistress," Jrastra explained.

The Private's eye twitched at the term used for Celia, but he ignored it as he responded, "Right, what's the plan?"

Dreek tapped her finger on a large hall in the castle floor plan, "Their King's eldest son has finally returned from a venture in Astiko for the celebration of their princess' reaching the beginning of her second decade. A grand dinner will have both princes, the princess, their generals, top officers, and even heads of ruling houses of the city attending. All the people who refuse to deal in a bloodless end to this petty war will be in one place."

"You wanna kill 'em," Galen surmised, swallowing hard as he thought of the little girl.

"Correct, but not all. We intend to spare some royals, and those people that have come around to a bargain: humans that can do well to clean up the mess after we've finished." As Dreek said that, Jrastra stifled a chuckle and let her fellow Commandant continue. "As for the others... We've found more... promising figures in Redding who can take over their positions. We kill those in the way, they step up, and we can finally stop wasting resources holding off their assaults and raids on our borders."

A low heat radiated from Galen's cuirass as a gloomed look pulled down on his features. As much as he hated it, he knew that no change can come without cost. But just how much more blood is going to spill? Was there a need for it?

Would the children have to witness?

"Just what kinda king does Reddin' have? For him to need die?" The words rolled out of his mouth before his mind had a chance to stop them, and he grew acutely aware about how quiet the room was as the two Drow before him looked up from the table.

Dreek's eyes narrowed on his. He swallowed.

"Belly growing weak for bloodshed?" the third Commandant questioned.

Picking up on the shivering chill in Galen's heart, the grinding stone of regret inside, Jrastra rolled her eyes and spoke up, "The King is the kind that likes to watch beheadings and hangings for entertainment. The kind that orders all Elves, of all kinds, to either be exiled or executed in his city unless they're enslaved by a noble family. The kind that demands something they call 'registration' for anything not human that wants to even look at their city. Not to mention the talks of him considering a new assault on Atzla and the swift execution of his critics."

Dreek had looked over her shoulder to cast a questioning eye upon Jrastra before glancing over to Galen with a raised brow.

"He's a racist dictator," Galen concluded, his gaze too focused on the maps to notice Dreek's relinquishing glare.

At the same time, sensing the flames stoked in the Private's belly by her words, Jrastra grinned and answered. "Yes, but there is more. Two Scouts were captured and fell under his personal interest since the war began. The first was some time ago and we... confirmed... her execution when he had her head lobbed at our tunnel guards... The second was caught on Dreek's last surface raid. The day prior to your first meeting, actually. Contacts in the castle say she is being tortured in ways only a male could a female... Sometimes by the King himself behind the Queen's back."

That fire was turning into a twirling inferno now, and Jrastra confidently decided she needn't say more. She merely had to wait as the gears turned in his head and feel what emotions worked through his chest.

"Alright," he murmured. "Walk me through it. Getting into the city, how do we do it?"

Jrastra's grin evolved to a broad smile while she pointed her finger to the front gate of the city. "That is the part of the plan in which we require a... human touch, for there is a bounty upon any and all Sun-kissed, especially a Commandant. And should one of us be captured... you would be granted a royal audience..."

...........

A yawn escaped the mouth of an archer as he stood on overwatch, positioned on a flat roof above the road leading to Fretheim's manor. Grunting and clearing his throat, he knelt down while pulling a flint and steel from his pocket. Using a rolled piece of waxed paper, he struck the flint to light a small flame. Before he could lose it, he pulled his pipe from its pouch and used the burning roll to light the tobacco already prepped inside. He sucked in one puff, then two to get the tobacco smoldering, then tossed the paper down to stamp out the flame.

Content, he breathed out a cloud of smoke and sat cross-legged on his rooftop. Still watching the street, he laid his bow across his lap and hunched over to rest his elbows on his knees and hold his head up in his hands. A sudden, chilling breeze whipped through the air and sent a ripple of goosebumps up his back alongside a shiver. He quickly shrugged off the cold and blinked his watered eyes dry just as a beast strolled right onto his street below from an alleyway.

He had an arrow pulled from his quiver and planted on the drawstring in an instant. His pipe still in his mouth, he came up on one knee and prepped to fire. In the next moment he realized what was below him and his pipe nearly fell from his lips.

People in Redding heard of the monsters that roamed the forest to the east. Of all sorts of twisted creatures born within the trees, but the archer never thought he would witness one within Redding. If his readings were accurate, a creeger stalked the street below. A cat the size of a hay wagon with fangs the length of one's hand protruding out of the corners of their mouths. Two wicked tails flayed the air behind them with razor-sharp blades of bone adorning the tips.