Chapter 8 — Raid
On the following morning, the king was very pleased. Roland had agreed to deliver a speech to the elves right away. The perspicacity of that man, and his ability to quickly adapt to a new situation—they never ceased to amaze him. No matter how difficult or delicate a task, his fantastic General was always ready to spring into action, and that was just the kind of person he needed to calm his anxious moods and his tendencies to doubt everything.
The speech had been announced the day before throughout the village. As the sun was just rising above the horizon, people walked the streets here and there, some watching a few soldiers that were arranging an improvised stage for their leader.
It would take place down the rocky hill, near the stairs leading to the castle gates. Roland had suggested the king stay out of sight during the event, so his own neutrality would not be questioned immediately. The monarch, however, couldn't bear missing anything—he absolutely needed to know the elves' reaction, he needed to witness it, his heart craved it, so he cloaked himself in a cape the colour of the rock and kneeled behind the bars of a hidden balcony, just close enough so he would be within earshot.
A pair of soldiers blew a horn, signalling the imminent event. The elves gathered in front of the stage in response.
"Elves!" Roland proclaimed as he climbed up the ladder. A tight silence fell on the small crowd. "My friends! Thank you for taking your precious time this morning to listen to this urgent announcement. I'm so glad to see you all here today, and wow! What a week we're having, am I right?"
The king tried to position himself more comfortably. He sat cross-legged on the hard floor instead of kneeling. The elves weren't showing a lot of enthusiasm, as far as he could see. Some of them even looked mad.
"So, first of all, as you may have noticed, there's been a slight problem with the colouration of our soldiers' wings. Now, while their ability to fly has been temporarily compromised, I wanted you to know a few things, to clear some things up with you about their health."
He cleared his throat. The king couldn't help the nervous flutter of his wings.
"They are doing great. For the moment, they are receiving treatment, but the doctors said they would only be out of commission out of precaution, for approximately four more days. At most."
The king jumped. Four days? He didn't remember the doctors giving such a precise timeframe, nor saying they would be fine. They'd said they had no idea when the men and women would be back on their feet … well, on their wings.
"So that," Roland continued with a why-so-serious kind of laugh, "is probably a much quicker recovery than what you were expecting! Worry not, my friends, everything is under control!"
The crowd murmured. The elves still didn't look happy.
"It also means that they will be back on the job very soon, and with absolutely beautiful wings for you to admire. In the meantime, I would like you to carry on with your daily activities. Rest assured that nothing has changed: you are still safe and protected, since a good portion of our soldiers were unaffected by this condition. Even the border is guarded, as usual! Now, about the food market…"
The murmurs grew. Some were watching him intently.
"We were very sad to see you close yourselves to us yesterday. But, you know, we understand. You thought we would be unable to fulfill our ancestral duty to you. For that, you have every right to be cautious, and you most certainly don't want the fruit of your hard labour to go to waste. It's perfectly understandable. But surely, you must be aware that keeping this stance puts in more harm than it does you good."
Angry voices rose. They became agitated; a few stood up. "There are no soldiers around anymore!" yelled a man. "How many are sick, exactly? There's no reason for us to keep you as our rulers if you can't guarantee us basic safety!"
Roland rocked on his feet and passed a hand through his hair. "I know, that makes absolute sense. But, like I said, we are still able to protect you, and the kingdom still functions normally. Nothing has changed."
"How many are sick?" a woman repeated.
"A few of them have been affected, but this is a temporary situation. It will not last. Even now, most of the soldiers that are not on duty are only being examined to prevent the condition from developing on them … in other words, as a means of prevention."
"A good portion, so that's, what, half?"
"Worry not about the numbers. We don't know them ourselves. All that matters is that most soldiers are able to go back into the streets for you and patrol the border as soon as today. That is, if we can expect their basic needs to be met."
Murmurs died down. "Their basic needs?" a man asked from near the stage.
Roland smirked. "The market. With no food to go by, how can we expect these soldiers to spend their time working, and not trying to find themselves something to eat? It's only fair, don't you think?"
The crowd was surprisingly silent. Roland waited a moment before continuing. "I want you to remember something: we have an unpredictable neighbour." He let himself fall off the stage with a flutter and walked among the elves and the few other small creatures that had joined, his hands behind his back. They all moved aside from his path. "They are monsters. Barbaric, cruel, uncaring. But most importantly, they are territorial."
All eyes were fixed on him. His voice seemed to hypnotize them. "They may or may not be aware of our little … situation. We have no way to know. If, however, they were to know—and rest assured we are doing everything in our power to keep this all a closely guarded secret—they might come here and test us! See if we truly are defenseless." He became grave. "See if there isn't anything they could take home with them. Food. Clothes. Tools. Children to raise as their own."
There were gasps everywhere. All children that were within the crowd were hugged tightly by surrounding adults. Even from where he sat, the king could see their panicked expressions.
"Now. I am not saying we should expect such a dramatic event to take place—no, in fact, I don't think we'll see them anytime soon. But we have to stay on guard!"
"But weren't there two soldiers that were trapped in the Dark Forest two days ago?" the high-pitched voice of a dwarf man asked. "What if they know? What if we do get attacked? Will you be able to defend us?"
"Worry not, good people. After all, a third of the army is entirely untouched and ready to fight for you!"
"What? A third? That means two thirds are sick! People, do you hear that?"
Agitation rose again. Voices grew louder. The tiny, hairy man crossed his restless peers and escalated the stage. As he stood proudly on Roland's place, everybody turned to him.
"Two thirds, people," he continued. "They're taking us for idiots. What if, like he says, the Dark Forest knew of this? What if we do get attacked? We'll need to take cover in our homes, maybe even lock ourselves up until they leave. We need to keep our food for ourselves in case we spend a day or more inside! The fairies say they're functional; well, I'd like to see them defend themselves before worrying about us. We can take care of each other, am I right?"
The elves cheered with an impetus. Roland looked stunned by the commotion for a while, but he quickly went to join the dwarf on stage. "People, people. Who are you kidding?"
They calmed down and listened to him. The king grew nervous. Could his General really prevent a rebellion at this point?
"Who are you kidding, people?" he continued when the crowd turned quiet. "What do you have to defend yourselves? Let's face it: you're even more defenseless than we fairies are. Sure, you could lock yourselves up in your homes in case of attack—then what? Your homes aren't made of rock. They can be taken down, or burned. Even if the fairy army is a little bit reduced at the moment, what are the chances that we get invaded today? The soldiers are coming back one after the other. In four days, most of them will be cured. That's a very short timeframe, is it not? For you, it's just a matter of being patient!"
"Here's the deal, then," the dwarf continued, "get all the soldiers back. Then we'll open the market."
Roland chuckled mockingly, placing a hand on his forehead, another on his hip. "If that is your wish. But … with no food, you have to understand we can't guard you at all. You're telling me you prefer having zero protection over having close-to-normal protection?"
"A third is not normal. A third is small."
"Not as small as you all!" Roland turned dramatically to their audience. "Seriously, what can you do by yourselves? Even in this state, we are stronger than you. Also, don't you wonder … how yesterday, we didn't come looking for the food ourselves? How we didn't attack your fields, your stocks? You know why that is?" He waited, stared at them with a somewhat condescending look. "You don't know? I'll tell you. It's because we care. We value our relationship with you. You need us as much as we need you—but seriously, you really need us."
Everybody, even the dwarf, were stunned and exchanged more worried glances. Nonetheless, the tiny leader quickly regained his composure. "I say no! I say, you're asking us to pretend nothing's wrong. And that's a big no-no. We can't let your … your foolish decision go unpunished! What if you make another one, eh? You won't ever learn your lesson!"
Roland puffed his chest and looked like he was about to yell at him, but instead, he slapped both hands on his mouth, and covered his eyes as well. He turned around and his shoulders started shaking. Was he … crying?
Then, the king could hear it more clearly: he was sobbing. The crowd calmed down and stared at him with a strange softness.
"We… We are doing everything we can, I swear," the fairy said between gasps, turning around slowly, shoulders hunched. "We know … this is ridiculous. But … but we need you guys, we need you, just as much … just as much as you need us!" He marked a pause to wipe his face on a piece of fabric on his armour. The monarch couldn't tell if he was serious or not. "Our relationship with you … is so important to us. Please… Let us make up for our mistake. We will, we will make it up to you, you have to believe me. But… But for now… We need to heal. The colouration… We did it to protect you better, to make ourselves look stronger for you. We risked our wings for you… Don't you see we did it all for you?!"
The elves and the dwarfs were oddly attentive. Maybe it was his imagination, but the king swore he saw pity in their eyes.
"We're doing everything in … in our power, to make things right, to be your ally, to … to keep your trust. Please forgive us…" He covered his face with his hands again. "Please don't turn your back on us. It's so painful, and … and I, personally—I can't take it…"
The dwarf standing next to him patted his elbow. "Now, now… It's okay, don't cry, we're not turning our backs on you. We're just … confused…"
Roland kept sobbing uncontrollably, his hands still on his face. The crowd looked at their peer on stage and leered at him. When said leader noticed, he seemed to get nervous.
"It's okay, we'll… Okay, we'll open the market. Right, everyone? And tomorrow! And … probably the day after, too. Okay, let's say we open the market for four days, until all the soldiers are back on the field. Then, we'll talk abou—"
"Thank you, little one!" In the blink of an eye, Roland had returned to normal. "Let's shake on it, then! That's great to hear, I'm feeling so much better now." He grabbed the small man's hand while he was stunned, then threw him off the stage comically. "Before I go, I just want to assure you one last time that the Dark Forest doesn't know anything, so do carry on with the crops." He headed for the castle in long steps. "We're looking forward to the opening of the market. Have a wonderful day, my friends!"
"Wait, wait!" a woman yelled from the middle of the crowd while some left the scene. "How can you be so sure the Forest doesn't know? We know there were two soldiers there, we saw them come back in the middle of the night! And the princess, too. What do we do if they come?"
Roland came back on stage. "The soldiers confirmed they had not met anyone. That's proof enough. Good day!"
"No, that's no proof!" A man added. "We can't know for sure!"
"Yeah, what if they're lying?"
"I can assure you personally!" Roland came back and responded more convincingly. "Believe me, if they'd heard, they'd be here already. So, no, they don't know! Good day!"
A croaky voice suddenly erupted from the village: "Right, if they knew, they'd be here already! Hehehe! Well, guess who's dropped by to visit?"
Everybody turned around in surprise, and even the king stood up from his hiding spot.
An incredible number of goblins were jumping from behind the houses, behind the containers, throughout the streets, like a flowing nightmare. Laughing in high-pitched barks or roaring, holding sticks and various agriculture tools that they had probably stolen, they herded the elves and the few fairy guards against the castle walls. There were so many creatures that the king had never seen before: large green ones smiling sharp teeth at them, small toads with spikes on their heads and bobbing throats that looked full of poison, round-bodied monsters and others with trunks, and several mean-looking abominations with beaks and no lips. All were either clawing toward his subjects or brandishing their weapons menacingly.
The elves were screaming in panic, pressed together. The castle gates opened and they tried to enter, but the frenzy was blocking them in a mass. The soldiers flew over them and stood in front of the invaders, but they were far outnumbered. When the larger ones went to stare down at them, the soldiers trembled in fear.
Something was weird.
Before the king could pinpoint what, he heard Marianne before he saw her, rushing toward the goblins with her sword and a tribal shriek. She landed between the soldiers and the large atrocities, swung her weapon at them, effectively making them back away. Before she could do anything, however, some went behind her, and as soon as she realized she was surrounded, she started pivoting slowly on her heels.
"Where is your king?!" she yelled, frustration making her voice harsher than he'd ever heard. "Bring him to me! Where is he?"
Yes, that was the weird thing: they didn't seem to have a commander. Where was the Bog King?
"Bring him to me!" she repeated.
"Take her weapon!" a beaked one yelled, and in a split second, all the goblins surrounding her threw themselves at her. The king watched in horror as the large ones tore her sword from her hand and held her arms behind her back. She struggled violently but couldn't keep them off her. To top it off, her eyes met his, furious, but he couldn't move from his spot to help her—his legs were not responding.
"I think that's all of them," a large one said in a deep, hoarse voice. "You guys go first. Don't forget the squash on the other side!"
The crowd of goblins scattered, laughing again loudly, swinging themselves from place to place like they were having a party. Powerless, the elves and dwarfs that couldn't enter the castle nor run away from the crowd watched in dismay as the monsters went through their homes, their warehouses, their barrels. A few disappeared behind the castle. The two goblins forcing Marianne down looked like they were having trouble with her, but she couldn't free herself.
In the distance, a buzzing sound grew louder. Dragonflies. They flew over the village and under the orange sky in a wild swarm, their wings giving the entire scene an eerie, unrealistic glow. The goblins, almost all of them with a few items in their hands, jumped to climb on the insects' backs or hung under them and hurried away toward the Forest. Before anyone could do anything, most of the intruders escaped with their loot.
Barely a minute later, only those keeping the elves and the fairies passive, along with the two restraining his daughter, were left. Looking around, they backed away and ran toward their dragonflies, grabbing their mounts one after the other. The large ones over Marianne finally released her, but one held her own sword at her throat: she kicked it from its hands and prepared to attack. Unfortunately, they were swiftly picked up and flew away.
Just when the king thought things couldn't get any worst, they did: the princess took her sword and went after them without looking back.
There was a shocked silence, down on the ground.
"Care to explain that?" One elf woman screamed behind the crowd, where Roland was probably standing.
No one answered, so another one continued, a dark sarcasm raising her voice higher: "Don't worry, elves, the Forest doesn't know! Of course you're safe with a third of the army, we can totally protect you! Now please feed us so we can keep existing!"
A man joined in the anger: "And what happened to the border being guarded? Why weren't we warned?"
"Now,what do we do?"
"People…" Roland's voice seemed very small among the profanities.
The king thought it wise to simply disappear inside the castle and wait for the General's return. First, he needed to make sure no goblin had managed to enter, and that Dawn was unharmed … and try not to worry too much about Marianne, for whom he couldn't do anything anymore.