Wicht
Hero
2.2
“Stinking Elves,” muttered the man in charge, “Shoulda’ known they was tied up in this somehow.”
“But we are good,” Bare began protesting as the humans moved in to bind him and Hullifan. Nearbye the other humans were working to tie up the whispering, muttering lunatic who had snuck into the graveyard with his shovel and pick in an apaprent attempt to dig somebody up.
“Shut yer mouth,” snapped one of the men to Bare, “and keep it shut.”
“Surrender peacefully,” yelled the one in charge, the local sheriff, apparently taking any protest by the elves as attempts to escape, “Kill them men if they try to escape.”
Escape seemed unlikely to Bare and Hullifan as they eyed the many loaded crossbows in the hands of the humans arresting them. Even considering the fact that it was night, one or two out of the twenty men was all it might take hitting them to kill them.
The sheriff, having yelled at the elves, swaggered over to the lone lunatic and making sure he was securely tied motioned for the men holding him to take him on out of the cemetery. Then the sheriff slowly walked back over to the two elves who were putting up no resistance, much to his disappointment.
“Who are you,” he asked Bare and Hullifan, “and what were you doing here with that lunatic?”
“Mmmmmm, mmmm mmmmm,” said Bare helpfully, keeping his mouth firmly shut as ordered. Hullifan laughed.
“Stinking elves,” cursed the sheriff with heat, “You’ll talk soon enough I figure. Take them to the jailhouse with the other one. We’ll let his lordship deal with them in the morning.”
Some of the men laughed cruelly and then uncaring fingers stripped the elves of their backpacks and their weapons. The men were obviously not proffessionals however as they neglected to even glance in the belt pouches both elves wore. Hullifan smiled to himself at this, for nestled asleep in one of his pouches was a poisonous snake named Shaba.
“We’ll see you hang as spies in the morning I warrant,” laughed one of the men as they began pushing the two elves in the direction of the cemeteries’ gate.
“We’re not spies,” muttered Bare in protest.
“We were just here to look at a tombstone,” said Hullifan, but the men did not pay any attention to either of them.
The jail house, a whitewashed brick building, was located in the middle of the village. It contained no windows and only a single heavy door. The elves were escorted unceremoniously through this door and then into a cell. The door of iron bars clanged shut behind them. In the cell next to them, the only other cell in the building, they could hear the continued whisperings of the lunatic.
“I hear them still. I can still hear them. They’ll get me out. You’ll see…”
Ignoring his mutterings, the elves began to observe their environment and their captors more closely. The door to the street had led into a room, an office apparently of sorts, though the two cells actually made up the southern end of the room. The cells were devoid of features, save for a bucket in each one. Three walls of each cell were made of thick, solid bricks, but the northern end of each cell was walled off entirely with iron bars, and a door of bars. Beyond the bars, the only furniture was a desk, filled with papers, a chair, a large wooden barrel probably used for trash, and a wooden coat rack near the door to the street.
“Good work men,” the sheriff was saying on the other side of the bars to the many men filling the room, “We got us the crazies before they could do any of their fiendish plottings and we’ll burn those books in the morning by the light of the sun. His lordship will be told and I imagine we’ll have us a trial and maybe a few hangings. You all go on home and get some sleep, I’ll see you get your gold coin in the morning.”
“Good night then Kyle,” said the men and the began to file out and through the door. Soon the outer room was empty of all but the sheriff and two other men.
One of the men was holding the elves equipment. He carried it out of the room through another door on the east side of the room, near the desk. The elves watched their swords, bows and packs disappear out of sight.
Bare walked over to the bars of the cell and asked the sheriff with worry, “You are going to burn our books? What books are you going to burn?”
“Oh so you admit those books are yours! Poisoning the minds of our countrymen is what you are trying to do I’ll warrant. We’ll burn all the evil books we found, don’t you worry.”
“No, we’re not evil. We’re from the woods,” Protested Bare.
“So you admit your spies!”
“No! We are here for our teacher. We aren’t spies.”
The sheriff strode over and looked fiercely at Bare. For a second silence filled the room and then disconcertingly the sound of the lunatic’s muttering suddenly filled the silence.
“The Dead! The Dead! I can hear them whispering to me. The Dead. Always whispering. But I can hear them. I can hear them telling me. They won’t leave me.”
“What dead?” said Bare to the unseen lunatic.
“Shut up!” yelled the sheriff, suddenly drawing out his sword and hammering on the bars of the next cell with the hilt, “And you too elf, shut yer mouth.”
“I can’t take much more,” said the sheriff to the other man, “Lunatics, evil books, graveyards and elven spies. I need some sleep. Keep an eye things while I go lay down for a while.”
“Sure thing boss,” said the man sitting down at the chair by the desk, “Shouldn’t be no problem.”
The sheriff stomped off through the eastern door, further into the jail house. Bare speculated to himself as to what lay on the other side of that door and then settled down against the back wall of the cell next to Hullifan to think.
Time passed slowly for the elves and each one in the quiet of their own minds began to think of some way in which to escape. Hullifan had after some thought settled on letting Shaba out of his pouch and allowing the snake to creep over to the guard and bite him. His plan however required the man to fall asleep to be successful but the guard showed no sign of either weariness or a lack of diligence. Bare had decided on a sleep spell at the opportune moment.
Bare had just about decided the men in the next room must be asleep and that it would be a good time to cast his sleep spell when the man in the next cell suddenly yelled out, “They are Coming!”
“They are coming! I can hear them. They are getting louder. They are coming for me. I hear them!”
A noise from the next room suggested the yelling had woken someone up.
“I hear them! I hear them!”
Bare stood up as did Hullifan. Both however remained towards the back of their cell.
“They are coming! I can hear them telling me!”
The sheriff burst out of the other room, followed sleepily by the other man who had gone in there.
“What is this commotion about?” fumed the sheriff, “Some of us are trying to sleep Tranlen. If you have to be a crazy can’t you be a quiet crazy?’
Seeing all three men in the room in front of him, Bare decided the moment was opportune. Speaking softly and moving his hands as slightly as possible Bare slowly began casting his sleep spell.
“They are coming!”
There was a thud at the door, the sound of someone knocking heavily.
Bare finished his spell, feeling the power move out of him. Nothing happened though. One of the men yawned but continued standing. The sheriff blinked irritably. There was another heavy knock at the door.
“They are coming!”
“See who that is,” said the sheriff to one of his men.
“Yes sir,”
“I can hear them!”
“Please be quiet Tranlen,” said the Sheriff exasperatedly and then turning to the elves, “And what are you two looking at?”
The sheriff’s man moved to open the door to the street. Outside the street was filled with skeletons, still dripping with dirt and mud. As one the skeletons began to press in through the door.
“They are here!” shrieked Tranlen the lunatic in ecstasy.
“Stinking Elves,” muttered the man in charge, “Shoulda’ known they was tied up in this somehow.”
“But we are good,” Bare began protesting as the humans moved in to bind him and Hullifan. Nearbye the other humans were working to tie up the whispering, muttering lunatic who had snuck into the graveyard with his shovel and pick in an apaprent attempt to dig somebody up.
“Shut yer mouth,” snapped one of the men to Bare, “and keep it shut.”
“Surrender peacefully,” yelled the one in charge, the local sheriff, apparently taking any protest by the elves as attempts to escape, “Kill them men if they try to escape.”
Escape seemed unlikely to Bare and Hullifan as they eyed the many loaded crossbows in the hands of the humans arresting them. Even considering the fact that it was night, one or two out of the twenty men was all it might take hitting them to kill them.
The sheriff, having yelled at the elves, swaggered over to the lone lunatic and making sure he was securely tied motioned for the men holding him to take him on out of the cemetery. Then the sheriff slowly walked back over to the two elves who were putting up no resistance, much to his disappointment.
“Who are you,” he asked Bare and Hullifan, “and what were you doing here with that lunatic?”
“Mmmmmm, mmmm mmmmm,” said Bare helpfully, keeping his mouth firmly shut as ordered. Hullifan laughed.
“Stinking elves,” cursed the sheriff with heat, “You’ll talk soon enough I figure. Take them to the jailhouse with the other one. We’ll let his lordship deal with them in the morning.”
Some of the men laughed cruelly and then uncaring fingers stripped the elves of their backpacks and their weapons. The men were obviously not proffessionals however as they neglected to even glance in the belt pouches both elves wore. Hullifan smiled to himself at this, for nestled asleep in one of his pouches was a poisonous snake named Shaba.
“We’ll see you hang as spies in the morning I warrant,” laughed one of the men as they began pushing the two elves in the direction of the cemeteries’ gate.
“We’re not spies,” muttered Bare in protest.
“We were just here to look at a tombstone,” said Hullifan, but the men did not pay any attention to either of them.
The jail house, a whitewashed brick building, was located in the middle of the village. It contained no windows and only a single heavy door. The elves were escorted unceremoniously through this door and then into a cell. The door of iron bars clanged shut behind them. In the cell next to them, the only other cell in the building, they could hear the continued whisperings of the lunatic.
“I hear them still. I can still hear them. They’ll get me out. You’ll see…”
Ignoring his mutterings, the elves began to observe their environment and their captors more closely. The door to the street had led into a room, an office apparently of sorts, though the two cells actually made up the southern end of the room. The cells were devoid of features, save for a bucket in each one. Three walls of each cell were made of thick, solid bricks, but the northern end of each cell was walled off entirely with iron bars, and a door of bars. Beyond the bars, the only furniture was a desk, filled with papers, a chair, a large wooden barrel probably used for trash, and a wooden coat rack near the door to the street.
“Good work men,” the sheriff was saying on the other side of the bars to the many men filling the room, “We got us the crazies before they could do any of their fiendish plottings and we’ll burn those books in the morning by the light of the sun. His lordship will be told and I imagine we’ll have us a trial and maybe a few hangings. You all go on home and get some sleep, I’ll see you get your gold coin in the morning.”
“Good night then Kyle,” said the men and the began to file out and through the door. Soon the outer room was empty of all but the sheriff and two other men.
One of the men was holding the elves equipment. He carried it out of the room through another door on the east side of the room, near the desk. The elves watched their swords, bows and packs disappear out of sight.
Bare walked over to the bars of the cell and asked the sheriff with worry, “You are going to burn our books? What books are you going to burn?”
“Oh so you admit those books are yours! Poisoning the minds of our countrymen is what you are trying to do I’ll warrant. We’ll burn all the evil books we found, don’t you worry.”
“No, we’re not evil. We’re from the woods,” Protested Bare.
“So you admit your spies!”
“No! We are here for our teacher. We aren’t spies.”
The sheriff strode over and looked fiercely at Bare. For a second silence filled the room and then disconcertingly the sound of the lunatic’s muttering suddenly filled the silence.
“The Dead! The Dead! I can hear them whispering to me. The Dead. Always whispering. But I can hear them. I can hear them telling me. They won’t leave me.”
“What dead?” said Bare to the unseen lunatic.
“Shut up!” yelled the sheriff, suddenly drawing out his sword and hammering on the bars of the next cell with the hilt, “And you too elf, shut yer mouth.”
“I can’t take much more,” said the sheriff to the other man, “Lunatics, evil books, graveyards and elven spies. I need some sleep. Keep an eye things while I go lay down for a while.”
“Sure thing boss,” said the man sitting down at the chair by the desk, “Shouldn’t be no problem.”
The sheriff stomped off through the eastern door, further into the jail house. Bare speculated to himself as to what lay on the other side of that door and then settled down against the back wall of the cell next to Hullifan to think.
Time passed slowly for the elves and each one in the quiet of their own minds began to think of some way in which to escape. Hullifan had after some thought settled on letting Shaba out of his pouch and allowing the snake to creep over to the guard and bite him. His plan however required the man to fall asleep to be successful but the guard showed no sign of either weariness or a lack of diligence. Bare had decided on a sleep spell at the opportune moment.
Bare had just about decided the men in the next room must be asleep and that it would be a good time to cast his sleep spell when the man in the next cell suddenly yelled out, “They are Coming!”
“They are coming! I can hear them. They are getting louder. They are coming for me. I hear them!”
A noise from the next room suggested the yelling had woken someone up.
“I hear them! I hear them!”
Bare stood up as did Hullifan. Both however remained towards the back of their cell.
“They are coming! I can hear them telling me!”
The sheriff burst out of the other room, followed sleepily by the other man who had gone in there.
“What is this commotion about?” fumed the sheriff, “Some of us are trying to sleep Tranlen. If you have to be a crazy can’t you be a quiet crazy?’
Seeing all three men in the room in front of him, Bare decided the moment was opportune. Speaking softly and moving his hands as slightly as possible Bare slowly began casting his sleep spell.
“They are coming!”
There was a thud at the door, the sound of someone knocking heavily.
Bare finished his spell, feeling the power move out of him. Nothing happened though. One of the men yawned but continued standing. The sheriff blinked irritably. There was another heavy knock at the door.
“They are coming!”
“See who that is,” said the sheriff to one of his men.
“Yes sir,”
“I can hear them!”
“Please be quiet Tranlen,” said the Sheriff exasperatedly and then turning to the elves, “And what are you two looking at?”
The sheriff’s man moved to open the door to the street. Outside the street was filled with skeletons, still dripping with dirt and mud. As one the skeletons began to press in through the door.
“They are here!” shrieked Tranlen the lunatic in ecstasy.
