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Landsbyen -Into the North- An Epic Poem 21

Before them lay the bridge.  It was a beautiful arch spanning a small estuary that was bordered on one side by the rock and bolder strewn beach dotted here in there with mostly dying trees that had fallen from the cliff face above.  A few had managed to root into the rocky soil and created strange shapes from twisted limbs.  On the Village side was a narrow, long barrier island that the village had come to rest against.  As DynDoeth looked to the cliffs he saw that the humans were gathered about half way down in a large alcove much closer than he had hoped with a much larger band.  There had to be at least several hundred stretching up three different cart paths.  He tapped Andghul on his shoulder and was greeted with a terse,
     “I can see them.”
He watched as Andghul closed his eyes reaching out timidly with his magic
at first feeling for weak spots in the bridge then attacking that spot with a burst of magic that he wondered if Erlenkönig, himself, could withstand.  The response was immediate from the Dark Elves.  He could feel their power shifting toward the bridge.  DynDoeth wrapped himself and Andghul in a strong cocoon of defensive magic but knew it could not last long if their full
force was countered against it.  The humans seeing the bridge quivering hesitated but a moment, before realizing what was happening and started a massive assent toward the beach in their effort to reach the bridge before it was destroyed.  Many of the humans either fell or were pushed off of the 
paths to fall to their death hundreds of feet below.  DynDoeth seeing the human carnage reached out to the cliff bringing the lower portion down on to the beach causing the humans to stop in their tracks and hopefully
saving at least some of them from the fate of their fellows.
     “Now DynDoeth,” he heard his companion yell.
He lowered his focus to the very bottom of the cliff and with all of his strength he used his magic to push the Village further into the ocean.  As the bridge snapped the Village jolted and many of the builds creaked and swayed.  A few of the humans managed to make it to the beach some even grabbed their boats and pushed them into the water, but none followed as the Village drifted farther and farther away.  DynDoeth looked down at the Elder Elf.  He had passed out from his exertion, but he was breathing.  The defensive spell that surrounded them had weakened and was of little use.  He was exhausted and let the spell drop.  He noticed as the dark magic had moved in their direction that multiple streams had suddenly disappeared.  He didn't know how many at the time but he knew it had to be Erlenkönig's doing.  He thought to himself, thank you my King.  It was only now that he realized that there were only three streams left.  Erlenkönig had taken on at least five strong Elfin Mages all on his own.  He knew the King was strong but no elf, now or ever, could defeat five strong elves at once.  He quickly tested the remaining streams.  They were strong, yet, but Obrynith and Gwaldon had their magic so intricately entwined within their darkness that it was difficult to tell which magic belonged to which elf.  He reached down to check on Andghul and the elf opened his eyes.
     “Rest old one, you have done well and completed your part in this.  I must go to help Erlenkönig if I can.  Do not use your magic, do not give away your location.  I will return if I may.”  The elder elf nodded slightly and closed his eyes.  DynDoeth did not know how he might help Erlenkönig, his magic was spent, he only knew that he had to try.  He straightened his legs and pulled himself to his feet, his right knee almost buckling beneath him.  Then slowly, step by step, he tottered in the direction of the courtyard.

Copyright © James Inman | Year Posted 2021

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