The Lost Ones 57.

Summer. The Island Chain In The Sultanate Of Dreese.

They watch the airship the Quick Gull head south over the interior of the island for a moment.
Then Helbe the elven thief turns to the Viceroy Of Dreese and tells him "Best of luck".
"And you too" is the reply of the Viceroy of Dreese, who looks away to their left across the clearing as the low thud of an explosion can be heard in that direction, to the east, to the shore about a mile and a half away.
"I'd wait a bit until that lot exhaust themselves" says the young elven noble from the island principality of Laerel, that lies off the coast of the Southlands, which is all the way on the otherside of the continent.
"I will" says the local nobleman who has been at war with his older brother the Sultan of Dreese since before the springtime.
The Sultan who now lies dead on the beach about a mile and a half away to the east.
The highly talented elven magic user nods his hooded head to the Viceroy in parting, then he disappears as he shifts away.
The Viceroy looks southwards at the departing airship. And silently thanks the foreign mercenaries who have led his brother's forces, who have given him this opportunity.
Then as the Quick Gull continues on it's way southwards across the island. The Viceroy hurries across the clearing to where some of his men are waiting.
As they, and the rest of his forces, who survived yesterday's battle. Will head east to the coast. To see if they can somehow finally win this campaign he's fought against his older brother.
Onboard the small, single masted airship the Quick Gull. Jarjin Littlefoot the halfling as he looks to aft, asks "Think they can win?".
"Maybe" replies lord Farque, who is standing next to the helmsman at the wheel.
The vast majority of the crew have decided to stay onboard. With only a handful staying down on the island. As they decided to join the Viceroy, as their sympathies lied with him, even though they've fought against him since his failed coup attempt against his older brother, the now dead Sultan of Dreese.
"He just needs to be patient" continues the undead warlord as Helbe the elven thief suddenly appears on deck, near the port rail.
"Those spellcasters will do a hell of the lot of the work for him" continues the heavily armoured deathlord, who then adds "And I'm guessing most of them will probably join him".
Jarjin Littlefoot, along with Helbe the elven thief as he walks over, nod in agreement with the lord and ruler of the lands Farque, as they look to aft, and to the east.
Where in the morning sunshine, they see the flash of an explosion just off the coast, in the waters of the channel.
A couple of moments later they hear the sound from that explosion. As a spell breaks apart one of the Sultan's sailing ships out in the channel between the two islands. Which are near the equator, at the very northern end of the chain of islands that are off the coast of the mainland of Dreese.
"That was that mage again" says the elven masterthief from the Southlands, the young elven noble who is the grandson of the ruling prince of Laerel then adds "He's the most pissed off by far".
"I can well imagine" dryly murmurs the hobbit who is a former air sailor in the Sultan's fleet.
The halfling from the mainland of Dreese, who is really a hordes outrider from the southern tundra by the name of Zubutai Timaginson, who just happens to find himself inhabiting the body of Jarjin Littlefoot.
Glances behind them, forward to a midships to where Mira Reinholt the mage is leaning on the port rail, looking aft towards the east coast of the island as the Quick Gull flies southwest over the interior of the island.
"Speaking of mages" quietly says Jarjin aka Zubutai the barbarian hordesman, who like the lord of the death realm, and the elven princeling, is conversing in the elven language.
Both the halfling former air sailor, and the elven master assassin glance at the heavily armoured deathlord who stands between the two of them.
Who has looked at the mage Reinholt just the once since the spellcaster from the city-state of Vexil in the Southlands came onboard. And hasn't spoken to him, or even acknowledged him since.
The lord and ruler of the lands Farque who is also known by the name of Draugadrottin by the people of his nation, doesn't mention the once powerful mage at all, even with that prompt from Jarjin aka Zubutai Timaginson.
Instead the undead warlord turns to the helmsman, and tells him in the local dialect "Drop us down fifty feet, to just above the treetops".
"Yes sir" says the helmsman of the small, single masted airship that's the fastest in the Sultan's fleet.
The heavily armoured deathlord then turns to the captain who is standing nearby, who is keeping an eye on not just the helmsman, but the rest of the crew who have remained onboard.
"Well be putting into dock somewhere on the coast of the mainland" says the undead being who has the elven name of Des'tier, which means, The Destroyer.
"We'll need supplies for our journey westwards" adds the heavily armoured deathlord, who continues with "Make a list of everything we'll need".
"Yes my lord" says the ship's captain, who then asks "How far is the journey sir?".
"About twelve thousand miles or so" is the reply of Draugadrottin.
The captain briefly winces, as he and those of his crew who remained onboard, were told they were going to go on a long journey to the otherside of the continent. Now he's found out just how long.
The ship's captain nods, then he calls over his first officer to take over the watch. While he goes off in search of the chief bosun, along with the cook, and the ship's carpenter, who doubles as chief cargo loader. To work out what they'll need in the way of supplies and equipment for such a long journey by air to the otherside of the continent.
After making his way aft, Beldane the cleric who has just had a quiet word with Mira Reinholt the mage to see how he's doing.
Makes his way to where Tovis the war engineer is at the stern rail, looking through a brass, cylindrical eyepiece.
The fighting cleric nods to lord Farque, Jarjin Littlefoot and prince Helbenthril Raendril as he walks by them, as they quietly speak to one another in the elven language, as they stand near the wheel.
The powerful cleric from the kingdom of Nastell in the Southlands, stands next to the young engineer at the rail.
"They're still at it" says Tovis the war engineer as he continues to look through the brass, cylindrical eyepiece.
"I know, i can feel it from here" says Beldane the cleric who can still sense the myriad of spells that are being cast, on one of the beaches on the east coast of the island, and in the surrounding area.
As the cadre of spellcasters who have been under the control of the Sultan of Dreese, who have been held against their will. Are now free due to the Sultan being dead. And are free to do what they want.
And what most of them are wanting is revenge for what they've been through.
And they're doing that by attacking the Sultan's forces. Who until just after dawn, had thought they were victorious with their campaign against the Viceroy's forces.
As they had apparently defeated the Viceroy's fleet and army yesterday in battle. And had even captured the Viceroy himself.
But everything this morning has been turned on it's head. As the Sultan has been killed by the Viceroy. And now the nearly thirty spellcasters who were under the direct control of the supreme ruler of Dreese. Are running amok, attacking any of the Sultan's forces they come across.
"He might have a chance of victory" quietly says the member of the church of Glaine, referring to the Viceroy of Dreese.
"He might" says the young engineer who previously served in the army of a baron Harkonin, in his homeland, the kingdom of Druvic. Another nation that's all the way on the otherside of the continent, in the Southlands.
The war engineer who is a captain in the armies of Farque, puts the brass, cylindrical eyepiece away, and looks at the fighting cleric as he adds "Nothing to do with us now".
The spellcaster from the kingdom of Nastell nods his head in agreement. For lord Farque had always told them that once Mira Reinholt the mage was freed, and that they had got themselves an airship, they'd leave no matter what. And that's exactly what they're doing as the Quick Gull heads to the southwest on what looks like is going to be another warm and clear summer's day here in the very north of the island chain off the coast of the mainland of Dreese.
Dalinvardél Tanith the elven spy comes up from below deck after using the privy. Which he's been dying to use since well before dawn.
He'd freely admit to anyone who'd ask. That he felt more than a little nervous earlier when he took the Viceroy before the Sultan of Dreese.
The spy from the elven principality of Alínlae in the Southlands, is just glad that the plan they come up with, actually worked, just as well as could be expected.
Dalinvardél Tanith or Dalin as he's more commonly called by the others in the group, looks around and sees that they're heading to the southwest across the island. And that soon they'll be over the ocean again as they head west to the mainland of Dreese, which is a coastal kingdom, on the east coast of the continent.
The spy Tanith then crosses the deck to the port side, where the mage Reinholt stsnds at the rail.
As the elven spy does, he glances aft to the wheel. Which to next, lord Farque stands with Helbe the elven thief and Jarjin Littlefoot. Both of who are members of the deathlord of Farque's personal council.
The other member of the undead warlord's personal council who is onboard. Is the once powerful mage from the city-state of Vexil. His homeland which he is in exile from.
Who Dalin sees is being ignored by the lord of the death realm who is in conversation with two of the members of his personal council standing with him.
"Feeling better?" quietly asks Dalinvardél Tanith the elven spy as he leans on the port rail right next to the spellcaster from the Southlands, who also happens to be a highly skilled swordmaster.
"I am, thanks" is the reply from Mira Reinholt the mage, who is more than relieved that the Sultan of Dreese is dead.
"And you?" asks the once powerful mage.
"I am now" is the dry sounding reply from the elven spy who is originally from the principality of Alínlae.
The mage Reinholt nods his hooded head, then quietly says "Thanks" followed by "Not just for this morning" he then adds "But for all the other times you visited" the exiled Vexilian mage briefly pauses before saying "It meant a lot".
"No worries" says Dalin, who then tells the member of lord Farque's personal council "You'd be pleased to know that your swords, and most of your things that came through the rift/void with you is below deck".
The spellcaster, who was once the most powerful mage of his generation to be found anywhere in the Southlands. Can't help but grin at hearing that. As he thought he had lost most of his things when he and the others arrived on this side of the continent, when the mage Reinholt accidentally cast a riff/void spell.
"Good to know" says the spellcaster who is also a highly skilled swordmaster, who has missed some of his possessions as he was under the control of the Sultan of Dreese.
Especially his main sword, which if lost, would be extremely difficult to replace.
The mage Reinholt then faintly smiles as Dalin nods at the spellcaster from the Southlands left arm, and dryly says "I'm just glad you didn't have to resort to using that" followed by "You would of been shooting air at him".
The practitioner of magic who was the youngest ever member of the mage council of Vexil, snorts then says "Same here" he continues with "I'll need some new bolts for it too".
"I'm sure we'll be able to find some for it on our way back to the Southlands" says the elven spy who is an officer in the scouts and rangers division in the armies of Farque.
At the mention of the Southlands, Mira Reinholt glances aft to where lord Farque, Jarjin Littlefoot and Helbe the elven thief are.
The once powerful mage grins as he looks at the hobbit, who Zubutai the barbarian hordesman is now.
Though the grin quickly disappears as he watches the large, heavily armoured figure of lord Farque.
Noticing the mage Reinholt watching those near the wheel to aft, the spy Tanith quietly tells him "I'm sure things will be fine, and he'll speak to you" Dalin pauses for a moment or two before adding "Eventually".
The spellcaster who is in exile from his homeland of Vexil, for betraying the city-state in the middle of a war, sourly smiles as he glances at the tall elf in the gray hooded cloak standing beside him at the port rail.
"You don't know how angry and vindictive he can be" quietly says Mira Reinholt, who continues with "This is the same man who along with Dorc chased me for nearly five years to this side of the continent".
The spy from the elven principality of Alínlae nods, as he's heard all about how lord Farque and Dorc da Orc searched for, and pursued the Vexilian mage in exile, from the Southlands, across the Great Western Ocean to the empire of Nors and Tran. Back across the Great Western Ocean to the Southlands. Then eastwards, out of the Southlands, and across multiple lands and nations to this side of the continent.
"Well, that was a little different" quietly says the spy Tanith, who briefly pauses before adding "You know, you did try to kill them".
"True" murmurs the swordmaster Reinholt, who then nods when the elven spy quietly tells him "What you did that brought us here was an accident".
"The second time I've done so" quietly says the once powerful mage.
"The first time in what?" quietly says Dalin who then adds "In twelve or fourteen years?".
As he's heard of the time before he joined the group, when the spellcaster from the city-state of Vexil accidentally cast a rift/void spell in the past.
"Yeah" quietly says Mira Reinholt the mage with a nod of his head, who after a moment's pause as he looks aft to where lord Farque is near the wheel speaking with Helbe the elven thief and Jarjin Littlefoot, as he silently adds, I'm pretty sure he holds a grudge from back then too . . . . . .