The Prophecy

The Stormy Road (4)

In a flutter of the wings, the brigands were on them. There must have been a good thirty of them, all armed like real strongholds. Their clothes were old, worn out and patched, and their general appearance could only recall their status as outlaws. The group of brigands were composed of humans, trolls, Gelflings and even elves.

_Hello, wonderful lords, where do you think you are going in such great company? asked one of the brigands, a tall, structural bearded human who was taming a beautiful red dragon with a white goatee.

_ Eh... Well, young man, we were planning to go on the March of Prophecies... replied the Great Pope, a little taken aback by the laid-back attitude of the impressive man.

The human was about to add something when one of his own, an elf, pulled him closer. He whispered in his ear words that no one else heard. While the elf was talking to him, the bearded man, who seemed to be the leader, was observing the troop of wise elves men with impressive calm. It was then that his face lit up and he smiled a small sneer.

_ So, it is you? The Great Pope! The Great Thinker, the great spiritual guide of the elf community. What are you doing so far from home? You're not a big fan of traveling, it is said. How important your business must be! And nothing should prevent it, right?

Old Bear nodded.

_ Well, well... Let's make it simple for you then... We will let you go... for the modest sum of a thousand gold solis.

_ A thousand solis(1)? This is absurd! This is outrageous!

_ What is a thousand unfortunate golden solis, when one has such an important mission to accomplish? he added, more and more ironically.

_ We don't have that kind of money, exclaimed the Stallion.

_ You need to let us go... continued Manoël.

_ That's our only desire! The brigand reparteed in an intentional servile tone, without giving any other indication that he was indeed doing so.

_ ...but, Grand Pope, you must tell him... Everyone's life is that's at stake...

But Old Bear, the Great Pope was observing, saying nothing. He had seen in the brigand's eyes that determined air that one cannot falter. The older Elf was wondering how he could turn events to their advantage, as the other brigands were keeping their distance, letting their beloved leader and his acolyte operate. However, a troll, who was hovering closer to the group of the Wise elves men, noticed a strange flash of light coming from one of the elves, and decided to approach.

_What's this?! he asked, more for the benefit of his leader than for that of the wise men.

Unknowingly, he had just spotted the richly crafted box that contained the Runes.

_ Hands off, you dirty troll! Childeric shouted, and rushed towards him with dark eyes and a riding crop in his hand, ready to make the one who had dared to touch the sacred chest pay dearly.

What he did there, was a heroic and very stupid act. In a few seconds the brigands had gathered on the elves. They were overwhelmed. They were far too defenseless to put up much resistance against men used to fight and survive by the sword. Sure, the younger elves could have fought back and do some damage to their opponents, but... But the brigands, were used to war games and weapons handling, and in a fist and sword fight, especially up in the air, they were quick to turn events to their advantage when they got hold of the elder of the wise elves. With the old wise elves men under the control of their blades, the young ones had no other choice but to surrender.