Chapter 10: Tarrick

“Don’t move! Ah, don’t even think about it, dwarf,” said the tall elf, who pointed his sword towards Tulvarick.

“Do you know who you are talking to, arqilunian?!” the king of the tonnebeards moved towards him. “I am Tulvarick VI Molotildar, King of Farderland!” and the dwarf felt a sharp blade on his cheek.

A tall elf with snow-white hair at the roots, and sandy color at the tips, with green eyes, took the sword away from the king’s cheek. And he turned to the companions of the tonnebeard surrounded by the elves.

“My name is Lucienelri AmalKayirick. Not so long ago, not far from here, we found the corpse of our friend.”

He was suddenly interrupted by an arqilunian with black hair at the roots and fiery at the tips, his eyes burning. He turned to Pastinar, “You will die slowly, skeshdak!” he said.

“Go and skeshdak ​​yourself!” Pastinar replied, and moved forward.

“Not now, Milolenar,” said Lucien and continued, addressing everyone. “We are from the Order of Purity and Fair Justice. You are charged with the murder of the daughter of Eileenelia, a devoted servant of our order, the faithful wife of Milolenar KelFallatick. Her name was Latmiriel KelFallatick, and–”

“We stay near the border of Farderland and Norvinoria, you have no jurisdiction here to conduct a trial,” Tulvarick interrupted him.

“Little bastard, I will cut your tongue!” the elf young woman with green eyes and orange-sandy curly hair intervened.

“Racists!” said Leslie loudly and spat at the girl’s feet. And the elf was already about to cast a fireball when Tarrick intervened.

“Wait, wait,” Tarrick said, “let’s not get excited. Yes, we admit we were involved in unintentional elf slaughter–”

“Unintentional?” Milolenar flared up and pointed at Pastinar. “This bastard grabbed her by the throat, and then broke her nose and teeth, and then,” tears came to his eyes, “he stuck a blade into her belly!”

There were seven elves, five men and two women, and all of them were arqilunians, fast and good trained, so Tarrick decided not to resist because the king of the tonnebeards was with him, and he did not want to have the king’s death on his conscience, because he blamed himself for the death of his yarlantan, Timnar Tossed.

“Your friend attacked us,” Tarrick said. “She was throwing fireballs even before we noticed her! Use your clairvoyance and see for yourself!”

“We could only see the moment of her jump when she was grabbed by your animal... a creature with a beard,” Lucien said.

“How dare you?!” Leslie stood up for Pastinar, but Tarrick interrupted her.

“Stop it… So, friends,” he turned to the elf, “at least for the start let the king go, he wasn’t with us in that day,” Tarrick suggested, “and then we’ll discuss a solution of our problem.”

“Let him go… and he’ll bring the entire undersized army of scums!” said the elf girl with orange curls.

“Disgusting skinny shit! Sumnargish take you!” Tulvarick shouted.

“Your Majesty, please, and dear arqilunians,” Tarrick intervened, seeing the girl draw her sword. “Let’s get this straight. We cannot prove to you that your friend and true daughter Eileenelia attacked us first, and you cannot prove to us otherwise. But if a fight breaks out, there will be losses on both sides.”

“There’s only one side,” Lucien said, “the side of the Knights of the Order,” he pointed to the elves with his sword, and then turned the sword to the group, “and this is not a side, this is a small group of corpses.”

Arqilunian with orange curls instantly rushed to the tonnebeard, but Pastinar reacted and repelled her attack on the king. Henriker Gainroix conjured a protective dome and a fireball released by one elf exploded on impact with the dome and knocked back two arqilunians who were nearby. Milolenar, who burst into the dome, pierced Leslie with his sword, who managed to fire an arrow, hitting the elf with snow-white hair right in the neck.

Pastinar and the king together repelled the attacks of the curly elf. Friedribert Bonielhock prepared to defend himself against Milolenar’s attack. And Tarrick Dargast walked to the edge of the dome to meet Lucienelri. One of the elves, already relatively old, grey-haired, for some unknown reason just stood and watched. The enraged husband, after several attacks, drove the sword into Friedribert’s chest up to the hilt, and then, took his sword from his chest and chopped off his head. Milolenar switched to Pastinar, because less than a minute ago, the big larmarian chopped in half the curly elf with his axe, and her two body parts were pulsing with blood near the dead Leslie.

The swords of Tarrick and Lucien crossed at the border of the dome, the larmarian jumped back. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Pastinar waving his axe and dodging Milolenar ’s attacks, Tulvarick had already conjured himself the illusion and distracted the aggressive elf, giving Pastinar more time to maneuver. Pastinar concentrated on his fight, the elf was faster than him but the larmarian’s experience and training helped him effectively repel attacks and counterattack, the trees also helped him... Suddenly they heard flapping of wings, and...

Pastinar was distracted and a sword thrust into his belly by Milolenar. Henriker stopped supporting the dome and cast a fireball, sending it into the vengeance-obsessed husband, and nearly hurt the tonnebeard’s king. Milolenar was thrown onto a tree, and a charred hole formed in his body. Lucien also hesitated for a second and missed Tarrick’s thrust, which plunged his sword into his shoulder, but Lucien was able to quickly draw the dagger with his other hand and hit the larmarian in the edge of the belly. Tulvarick at that moment with an axe ran up to two elves, who had been thrown away from the dome by the fireball, and who were only wounded, and began to regain consciousness, and he cut one’s throat and drove his axe right into the skull of the other.

“The arqilunian’s speed and reaction are overrated, but look, a...” with these words, the grey-haired arqilunian old man who did not interfere in the battle simply disappeared.

“Where did he go?” Tulvarick asked.

“It doesn’t matter,” said Henriker, “there’s only one left,” and he pointed to the seriously wounded Lucien who tried to cast a fireball but failed.

Henriker looked at the scorched-bloody space where trees were interspersed with bodies, ignoring the attempts of the last living elf to cast spells, and approached the dying Pastinar.

“Those were glorious years, yes, Henriker,” Pastinar barely uttered. He laid leaning against a tree and clamped the wound on his belly.

“Yes, indeed, my friend, yes, indeed” and he saw how Pastinar died. Henriker picked up Pastinar’s axe and walked towards the arqilunian. Tarrick at this time was bandaging his wound, which was at the edge of the abdomen, and it doesn’t look fatal. Tulvarick watched as the exhausted Lucien’s hands could not even create a spark, elf leaned on a tree, his legs wobbling.

“Filthy stinking fishy old man, all your rotten people...” Lucien didn’t finish his sentence and did not even begin to dodge away from a blow that Henriker delivered to his chest with such force that a huge axe got stuck, pinning the dead elf’s body to a tree. There was silence for a moment.

“That’s why I didn’t want an alliance with the forest elves,” the king broke the silence, “nimble creatures just hate us! All of us! And they are ready to kill just like that, without reason!”

“Your Majesty,” Tarrick turned to the king, “if dragons have flown north, then I need to know what happened to my fleet, even if it makes no sense to return to the Larmar Islands. If you have to go after the dragons, I can’t go with you, I’m sorry.”

“Tarrick, I’ll go with you. Are you badly injured?” the king asked him.

At this time Henriker was casting a spell of cleansing fire, which is used to turn dead bodies into ashes.

“Not much, the elf hurt me a little, but I’ll live,” Tarrick replied.

“Then we will go together, to the beach, as we planned. I hope the dragons have decided not to waste their time on the ships.”

“Me too,” Tarrick agreed. Henriker approached him.

“Resier, let me see,” the mage turned to Tarrick.

Tarrick showed his wound. Henriker cast a healing spell, and the wound healed slightly.

“Lean on me,” Henriker suggested, “you’ll feel dizzy from the spell now, but in about an hour it’ll be easier to walk and no help will be needed, but for now lean on me.”

Tarrick followed the suggestion and put his arm around the Henriker, and felt dizzy as if he was very drunk, but his mind was sober. After gathering the necessary items, the three travellers headed further south toward the Outland Sea.