The Lost Ones 5.

Summer. Elsewhere.

"Fuck" mutters lord Farque who stands there looking down at the body of Arvelle Ganard the plainsman.
Behind the visor of his full helm, the undead warlord sourly smiles. While fifty yards behind him. An airship that's hit the ground, is on fire.
The heavily armoured deathlord looks to the right as Tovis the war engineer and Beldane the cleric make their way over, hurrying, jumping over some of the dead who are scattered across the ground.
The two of them wince when they see the tall plainsman with the shaved head lying dead on the ground.
The lord and ruler of the lands of Farque looks out to sea, where another of the airships has hit, and is sinking beneath the warm tropical water.
"Any of their airships left?" asks the deathlord of Farque.
Looking up into the clear, blue morning sky, Tovis the war engineer says "One".
The young engineer who is originally from the kingdom of Druvic in the Southlands, slightly winces as there's an explosion in the air, and the part of the starboard side of the airship in question is blasted away.
"Well" says Tovis, who briefly pauses then adds "There was one". As the badly damaged airship starts to drop out of the sky.
The undead warlord, who is also known by the name of Draugadrottin to the people of his lands, doesn't even bother to turn and watch the doomed airship head towards the ground.
Instead he looks to the right again, and a moment later Helbe the elven thief appears.
The young elven noble quickly walks over, and wonders why the others are just standing around in the middle of the battle.
When he spots the body of Arvelle Ganard the plainsman lying on the ground.
"Fuck" mutters Helbe the elven thief, while in the distance, the last of the Viceroy's airships plows into the ground. Not that any of them watch it do so.
The young elven noble from the island principality of Laerel, that lies off the coast of the Southlands, sighs as he looks at the dead plainsman, who is missing at least half of his head. Which was hit by an axe of one of the Viceroy's soldiers.
"Well, at least there's plenty of bodies to choose from" says the elven magic user in the royal elven language to lord Farque.
The heavily armoured deathlord grunts, then he looks around as they're in relatively calm spot in the battle that's definitely turned the Sultan's way.
"Look for a suitable body" says the lord and ruler of the lands Farque in the royal elven language, he continues in a dry tone of voice with "One that's relatively intact, he'll fucking moan and bitch if he comes back missing an arm or a leg".
The grandson of the ruling prince of Laerel faintly smiles at that, as does Narladene the ground pixie who is on his right shoulder.
Then the elven master assassin, who is a member of the personal council to lord Farque, looks around at the progress of the battle, and asks in the common language "Where's Mira?".
"Still with the Sultan" replies Tovis the war engineer, Beldane the cleric nods in agreement.
"He likes to keep him close" adds the young engineer who served in the army of a baron Harkonin in his homeland of Druvic, before he joined the group.
"I can't imagine why" dryly says prince Helbenthril Raendril, who glances sideways at lord Farque, who doesn't say anything at the mention of the mage Reinholt. Who is the reason they're here in the first place.
At least we're not offworld, that's something i guess, the elven masterthief dryly thinks to himself, who spots Dalinvardél Tanith the elven spy walking this way through the smoke of the nearby burning airship.
As if Mira Reinholt wasn't even mentioned, lord Farque says "I was hoping for one of those airships".
Helbe the elven thief nods his hooded head in understanding. As an airship would solve a lot of their problems.
As returning to the Southlands would be a hell of a lot easier by airship than by any other way. Especially considering they're not going to get back the way they got here.
"Maybe the Sultan will give us one of his" says the young elven noble as Dalinvardél Tanith the elven spy joins the rest of them.
"Not that he's got many, since the Viceroy nicked most of them" adds the highly talented elven spellcaster, who as he looks around, says "Still, we've pretty much won this battle for him, so you never know".
They see some of the Viceroy's men down on the beach, who look their way. And think better of it, and continue along the beach. As there's scores of their fellow soldiers lying dead around the group. Not to mention a burning airship just fifty yards behind them.
They're on an island, in a chain of islands. Off the coast of the continent. The eastern coast of the continent, over ten thousand miles from the eastern region of the Southlands.
The island chain is part of the Sultanate of Dreese. A nation on the mainland, south of the collection of nations known as the five kingdoms. One of which is the kingdom of Wah Lee, the homeland of Shur Kee the monk.
How they got here was by accident. An magical accident caused by Mira Reinholt the mage. Who for a brief moment regained most of his vast powers that he had lost as he went to cast a rift spell he had been learning since they were on the Kaldel Plains.
But unfortunately it turned into a rift/void, that sucked those who were nearby, into it. With the exception of lord Farque and Narladene the ground pixie. Who willingly went through it when they saw the others go tumbling uncontrollably through it.
Seeing the fighting dying down towards the other end of the beach. And more of the vanquished Viceroy's soldiers running away, heading inland.
Lord Farque says in the royal elven language "Search for a suitable body" followed by "I better go and bring him back from the otherside". Helbe the elven thief nods his hooded head in understanding.
Looking at the spy Tanith, the undead warlord says to him in elven "Head down to the Sultan" followed by "Since he won't let me or Helbe, or Beldane near him".
The lord of the death realm continues with "We'll probably sail back to the mainland, but snoop around and see if the fat prick has got any spare airships. The least he can do is give us one for winning this battle in this shitty war for him".
"Is it still working?" asks Dalinvardél Tanith the elven spy in his native language as he looks at Draugadrottin and prince Helbenthril Raendril.
"It's fine" says the elven master assassin, who like the dead plainsman on the ground, is a member of the personal council to the lord and ruler of the lands Farque.
The elf from the principality of Alínlae who briefly touched a spell gem he has in one of his hidden pockets, sets off towards the nearby beach.
"You two go with Helbe" says the undead being in the dark blue, black suit of heavy plate armour to Tovis and Beldane "He'll tell you want to look for" adds the undead warlord who has the elven name of Des'tier, which translates to The Destroyer.
Both the war engineer from the kingdom of Druvic, and the cleric from the kingdom of Nastell. Follow after Helbe the elven thief who beckons them to come along with him.
While lord Farque starts making his way to where a bluff is in the distance. The sea cliffs rise to a height of about a thousand feet, and have sharp, jagged rocks at the base of it, that are constantly pounded by the surf at the point of the island. While the bays along this side of the island, are protected and sheltered. Ideal with their white sand beaches and slightly swaying palm trees in the tropical winds coming off the ocean.
As he walks, the deathlord of Farque sourly smiles as he prepares to go and retrieve Zubutai the barbarian hordesman from the death realm.
Dalinvardél Tanith or Dalin as he's more commonly called by the others. Makes his way along the beach, occasionally stopped by the Sultan's men. Who wave him on when they realise who he is.
The elven spy from the principality of Alínlae, who'd never thought he'd been in such a place like this.
Sees all the tents that are up towards the southern end of the long curving beach that's in one of the many bays on this side of the island.
Which is basically back in the hands of the Sultanate of Dreese now that the Viceroy's forces have been all but defeated here.
The Viceroy, who until a few months ago. Led the Sultan's fleets, both air and sea fleets. Who decided to launch a coup against the Sultan, his older brother.
Dalin is stopped by some of the Sultan's personal guards. Who, in their accented common, ask him what he wants.
The elven spy from the otherside of the continent tells them. And after a brief discussion amongst themselves in their native tongue. They allow him to continue along the beach, though two of them accompany him.
Just beyond most of the tents, which to the spy Tanith looks like an eyesore to him with their bright colours that clash with the natural colours of the surrounds.
Spots the many spellcasters of the Sultan standing around his open tent, there's over twenty of them, including a mage from the Southlands.
They're the reason the Sultan of Dreese stays in power. Though if it wasn't for the tactics of lord Farque. The Viceroy's coup would of been successful by now.
The Sultan, an overweight man, sits on a cushioned bench infront of his open tent. In which, is his many concubines, both women and men.
Stopping at least the twenty proscribed paces from the Sultan. Dalinvardél Tanith slightly nods his hooded head in greeting to the ruler of Dreese.
His herald steps forth, and says in the heavily accented common language that the locals speak "His magnificence is glad there is no presence of the dead man, the elven spell master and the god worshiper".
The herald continues with "His magnificence is most displeased when they are present".
I bet he is, Dalin dryly thinks to himself, who then politely smiles when the herald asks him "His magnificence would like to know if you would give up that trinket you carry".
"So kind of him to ask" says the spy Tanith, who is doing the job that Helbe the elven thief normally does. The envoy to whoever it is that's hired them. Though in this case, it's more of an enforced hiring.
"But i shall keep it on me for a bit longer" continues the elf from the principality of Alínlae, who then silently adds, i don't want to end up as one of his slaves.
"Pity" sourly says the herald, a copper skinned individual of intermittent age. He could be aged between forty to seventy years old. Even Dalin as an elf, finds it difficult to work out his age.
The herald glances at the Sultan, who murmurs something in the native language, which amongst the group, only lord Farque understands.
"His magnificence wishes to know what you want mercenary?" asks the herald.
Mira back for a start, the elven spy thinks to himself as he looks at the mage Reinholt, who stands there amongst the other practitioners of magic, with a tight lipped smile upon his face as he watches proceedings.
"Well, it seems this battle is won for the good Sultan" says Dalinvardél Tanith with a nod of his hooded head to the overweight ruler of Dreese.
"And my colleagues and i were wanting a favour if the good Sultan wants to retain our services, to wipe out the remainder of the Viceroy's forces on the other islands" continues the elven spy from the otherside of the continent, who already knows the Sultan will refuse. As it's the man's way. He's just a prick. Though admittedly a very dangerous one. As he has twenty spellcasters at his disposal. Who follow his orders without question.
"And what might that be mercenary?" asks the herald, who does the speaking for the Sultan, who is of the belief that speaking in public is beneath him, and something that one of his standing, should never stoop too.
An airship you asshole, Dalin thinks to himself, he's safe from the powers of the Sultan thanks to the spell gem he has secreted upon him. A spell gem that protects him from having his mind read too, no matter how powerful a spellcaster is.
"Well herald, that would be an airship" says the spy Tanith, who silently follows that with, like I've asked previously.
The elf originally from the principality of Alínlae waits for an answer, as the Sultan does take things into consideration.
Then after the ruler of the Sultanate of Dreese murmurs something in the native language to the herald, the copper skinned man says "His magnificence has decided".
The herald  pauses for more than a few moments, infact Dalin wonders if he'll speak again.
Then eventually the herald says "As the terms of your contract state, you will receive an airship when the Viceroy's forces are wiped out to a man. And his magnificence's brother, the Viceroy is brought before the Sultan to face his judgement".
"Of course" says the spy Tanith, who nods his hooded head to the Sultan after the overweight ruler grunts, the sound he makes to signify the audience is over.
Dalin takes one last look at Mira Reinholt the mage, who still stands there with a tight lipped smile, as he like all the other spellcasters, are under the control of the Sultan.
Then the elven spy turns around and walks away, heading back up the long curving beach in the bay, trying not to let out a sigh of frustration.
He knows that given time, lord Farque will win this war for the Sultan, and eventually wipe out all of the Viceroy's forces.
But finding the Viceroy, and bringing him infront of his older brother the Sultan. That's another matter entirely different.
As no one has heard of or seen the Viceroy even since he launched his coup. And that the group, when they've had the chance to search for him. Have no idea where he is too . . . . . .