The Lost Ones 48.

Summer. The Islands Off The Coast Of The Mainland Of Dreese.

"Oh hell" mutters Helbe the elven thief.
"What is it?" asks the Viceroy of Dreese.
"Wait here" says the young elven noble form the island principality of Laerel, which is all the way on the otherside of the continent, off the coast of the Southlands.
As the elven magic user walks down the beach, the Viceroy sees what he's spotted.
In the afternoon sunshine reflecting off the water, there's a ship's boat approaching from the south.
As the local nobleman stands in the shade of the palm trees at the top of the beach.
He sees that the boat, must of come from around the cove directly to the south of this one, which lies at the northeast tip of the island. The Viceroy also sees that it's from one of his older brother's ship.
Those at the oars, rowing it are from the Sultan of Dreese's sea going fleet. With them in the boat are eight of the Sultan's personal guards.
The younger of the two nobleborn brothers who are at war with one another.
Has never really liked his older brother's battalion of personal guards.
Even before the change in attitude and personality of the Sultan of Dreese.
He dislikes them even more now. As they're all under a similar spell, though admittedly lighter touch. Than the cadre of the spellcasters who are under the direct control of the supreme leader of the Sultanate of Dreese.
The urge for many in the Sultan's army to become members of his battalion of personal guards is strong.
And when they do become members of his personal guards. They are definitely his most loyal soldiers. Though not necessarily his best.
As they have no proper commander, and just have a sprinkling of officers amongst them.
The Sultan of Dreese does not like to share power with anyone. Especially amongst the battalion of his personal guards. Who actively protect him, with some of them his personal bodyguards.
The Viceroy realises that his older brother must of sent the bulk of his personal guards into battle today.
And that they're under the command of the regular army. Which is infact, one of the Viceroy's captors. The foreign mercenary called the lord.
The member of the royal family that's ruled the Sultanate of Dreese for a number of generations.
Watches from the shade and the relative obscurity of beneath the thick palm trees along the top of the beach.
As the ship's boat comes into the shore. That the elven magic user who has been with him for most of the afternoon. Stops at the water's edge, and watches as the boat come in.
It's coming through a bit of a surf, as the water out in the channel between the two islands. Actually has it's own tide pattern, even though the water doesn't go in or out from the shores that face one another from across the channel.
But what does happen, is that during a high tide, there's a surge of water that comes into the channel from the south. As the winds and tide, are from the south, or to be exact the southwest throughout the island chain that lies off the coast of the mainland of Dreese.
And when that water surges into the channel from the south. The usually calm, not to mention warm tropical water in the channel, picks up in intensity a bit. So that there's actually three to four foot rollers coming into the beach that the Viceroy of Dreese has watched the battle between his and his older brother's forces since early this morning from.
The local nobleman, who happens to be a fairly competent spellcaster, who at this moment in time is unable to touch his magical powers, due to there being a block on them courtesy of his captors.
Watches as the elven mercenary gestures and calls out something to those in the ship's boat coming in through the rolling surf towards the beach.
One of the personal guards to the Sultan of Dreese in the boat replies.
The Viceroy doesn't know what's being said as they're too far away to clearly hear what they're talking about.
But from the body language of the Sultan's personal guard in the boat doing all the talking, and by his tone, he's definitely being most insistent with whatever it is he's saying.
The younger brother of the Sultan of Dreese sees the foreign mercenary say something else, then shrug his shoulders, and turn around, and head back up the beach, coming in this direction.
The Viceroy then blinks in surprise as those in the ship's boat suddenly attack one another.
The Sultan's personal guards attack each other, as well as the sailors manning the oars.
The sailors in the Sultan's fleet do likewise. Attacking one another, as well as those in the battalion of the Sultan's personal guards who are onboard.
The Viceroy of Dreese, well former Viceroy to be exact, as he's been stripped of his position by his brother.
Sees one of his older brother's personal guards draw his shortsword and plunge it into the back of one of the sailors at the oars.
Two of the other personal guards to the Sultan go at one another with their daggers, grappling with one another as they do so.
They go overboard into the water as they repeatedly stab one another with their weapons.
One of the sailors has stood up in the bow, and with his oar, is swinging it at anyone behind him.
He misses most of them as they're busy trying to kill one another.
But he does connect, when the oar smashes into the head of another sailor.
Who is on top of one of the personal guards in the bottom of the boat, who he's trying to choke to death.
The Viceroy winces as the oar connects, and cracks the skull of that sailor.
Two more of the sailors go overboard. One is choking the other to death as they fall into the surf.
While the one being choked, is stabbing his dagger into the side and chest of the sailor choking the life out of him.
One of the personal guards to the supreme ruler of the Sultanate of Dreese. Has stood, and his swinging his axe at the others in the boat.
A head goes flying when he perfectly connects with the neck of one of the sailors who is bashing in the face of another of the sailors with the wooden bailing bucket.
The younger brother of the Sultan of Dreese looks away for a moment. And watches the elf in the white hooded cloak walking back this way.
The foreign mercenary, one of a small group of them who are working for the Sultan. Only because one of their number is a spellcaster in the cadre who are under the direct control of the supreme ruler of the Sultanate of Dreese.
Isn't even looking back at what's happening at the edge of the water where those in the ship's boat are killing each other.
He only does so when he gets back beneath the shade of the palm trees and stands beside the Viceroy.
"I told them to leave and head back south" says Helbe the elven thief, who slightly pauses then adds "But they didn't listen".
The local nobleman just nods as he sees that there's only just one of the Sultan's personal guards still alive out of all of those who were in the ship's boat.
He's standing in the surf, breathing heavily, whilst bleeding from a number of stab wounds.
The Viceroy recognises him as the one who spoke to the elven mercenary in the white hooded cloak.
Then as a body floats by that personal guard to the Sultan of Dreese.
He takes his shortsword, and puts the tip of the weapon up to his throat and under his chin. Then he slowly pushes it under his chin and into his mouth and head.
The local spellcaster winces and mutters "Hell" as the last of those who were in the ship's boat kills himself.
"Can't have you being caught before you're supposed to be" says the highly talented elven magic user from the Southlands.
The young elven noble who is the grandson of the ruling prince of Laerel then dryly adds "That would definitely wreck all our plans if you did".
The elven masterthief who is a member of the personal council to lord Farque, listens to Narladene the ground pixie who has just landed upon his right shoulder.
The elven master assassin slightly nods his white hooded head after hearing what the naturally magical creature has to say.
Then the elven princeling says to the prisoner "I'll be back in a little while" he continues with "There's something i have to check on".
The elven princeling then disappears as he shifts away from the beach here at the northeast tip of the island on this side of the channel.
Up in the afternoon sky, Helbe the elven thief looks around then slightly nods when Narladene the ground pixie points and says "There".
The young elven noble form the island principality of Laerel briefly looks down the east coast of the island, then teleports away. And does so a couple more times, until he reaches an airship in the fleet of the Sultan of Dreese.
"How is he?" asks lord Farque when prince Helbenthril Raendril appears beside him on the stern deck of the airship.
"He's fine" is the reply of the elven magic user as the two of them converse in the language of the elves.
The elven master archer follows the undead warlord to the port rail as the airship flies slowly northwards up the east coast of the island.
The member of the personal council to the lord and ruler of the lands Farque, looks away to the west, to the otherside of the island when the heavily armoured deathlord nods his full helmed head in that direction.
The elven masterthief who also happens to a member of the royal family that rules the principality of Laerel, slightly nods his hooded head then quietly asks "How many do you think?".
"Over a thousand, and more all the time" is the reply of lord Farque, who is also known by the name of Draugadrottin to the people of his lands.
Glancing at the nearby officers and crew here on the stern deck, the elven master assassin asks the lord of the death realm "Any of them spotted them?".
"None" replies the undead being who has the elven name of Des'tier, which translates to, The Destroyer.
"Hopefully they continue to do so" adds the undead warlord who is in command of the Sultan of Dreese's forces in the war against the Viceroy of Dreese.
The heavily armoured deathlord who in the local dialect, tells the captain to turn back to the south, and go back down the east coast of the island.
Then tells prince Helbenthril Raendril in the elven language "The more of them who survive this battle the better".
The lord and ruler of the lands Farque briefly pauses, before he continues on in a slightly dry tone of voice with "Well that's if the Viceroy is fucking successful".
"There is that" quietly says the highly talented elven magic user who nods in agreement with Des'tier.
Then as the airship finishes it's turn, and the elven master archer looks down out over the channel, where the naval engagement that's been going on since well before dawn, is all but over.
With just one of the Viceroy's ships still in action, fighting against a number of the Sultan's sea going fleet.
The young elven noble who is the grandson of Prince Raendril of Laerel says to the undead warlord "Quite a few losses down there on our side".
Glancing down at the channel between the two islands here at the very north of the chain of islands that lie off the coast of the mainland of Dreese, lord Farque says "I know" followed by "Good".
The heavily armoured deathlord continues with "The army has too" followed by "Especially over on the other island" he then adds after a brief pause "So has the Viceroy's forces over there".
The lord of the death realm then quietly tells the elven masterthief "We'll have to take him prisoner so to speak sometime during the night".
Helbe the elven thief nods his hooded head when Des'tier adds "I don't want our forces heading to the west coast searching for him, and finding those of his army who have retreated to over there".
"This lot will have their victory once he's been caught" continues the large undead being in the dark blue, black full suit of heavy plate armour.
"Which hopefully won't last" murmurs the elven princeling from Laerel.
Draugadrottin nods his full helmed head in agreement, then he asks the elven master assassin "What did he make of the plans?".
"As well as could be i guess" is the reply of the elven spellcaster from the Southlands, who continues on with "Although there's a glimmer of hope there, he thinks there's a fairly good chance it will completely fail".
The elven master archer then adds "Not that he's voiced that out loud" the elven princeling from Laerel follows that with "He's putting on an air of confidence that he will be successful or at least a chance of success".
"That's something i suppose" quietly says Draugadrottin, the lord and ruler of the lands Farque is silent for a few moments then he adds "Let's hope it just fucking works".
Both Helbe the elven thief and Narladene the ground pixie are silent, but not in agreement with what the lord of the death realm just said.
As they hope their plans to release Mira Reinholt the mage from the control of the Sultan of Dreese is successful. Though admittedly they know there's a good chance it may fail.
"Fucking mage" mutters Des'tier in the ancient language of command, who is still annoyed that the mage Reinholt has got them all into this situation. When he accidentally cast a rift/void spell that brought them here to the otherside of the continent.
Which saw the mage himself end up in the cadre of spellcasters under the direct control of the Sultan of Dreese. And the rest of them fighting for the Sultan in his war against his younger brother the Viceroy.
And that they'll only get the Vexilian mage in exile released if they defeat the Viceroy's forces for good. And that the Viceroy is finally taken prisoner and brought before the the supreme ruler of the Sultanate of Dreese.
Then switching back to the elven language, the undead warlord says "You better get back to him".
Helbe the elven thief nods his hooded head, then he disappears as he shifts away, and heads back to the beach on the northeast tip of the island where the Viceroy of Dreese is . . . . . .