Below the Peak (Sola)(87)
“Where are all these questions coming from? Is there a problem?” the third man, Eluon interjected. Calemir glanced at the brown-haired elf, with one hand casually poised on the sword by his side and carrying a perplexed expression.
“Why don’t you enlighten me Eluon on the matter,” Calemir said coolly as he stared at him. Alarm flashed in the man’s eyes for a miniscule second and was covered quickly by disconcertion. “I don’t know what it is your speaking of your Highness.”
“Yes, you know” Calemir insisted. For the last several weeks, he had been receiving reports about arms smuggling. Some weapons that were made in Amulg, a city that was responsible for arm mass production for most of the places in the kingdom, suddenly disappeared in the way of transportation to other towns. Men who were tasked with the duty of transporting the weapons had been ambushed. Among the victims, one had said the attackers were rebels, but he had also seen a man in armory concealed under a dark cloak. The witness was sure of it after Calemir had interrogated him if he was telling the truth. Further probing and digging, Calemir had found out there were indeed several men conspiring with the rebels. One of the traitor’s happened to be Eluon.
Eluon’s shook his head, a note of tremble in his voice as he denied. “I honestly do not know.”
“Then swear in on Faethurin you know nothing and have not been aiding the rebels” Calemir dared him. All four men knew the consequences of declaring a lie on Faethurin. Death. A slow agonizing death that could take days, weeks, months, years. You get the jest. And there was no cure, not even the strongest healer or elixir could restore him.
Síron and Barron turned their watchful eyes on their captain. Calemir waited patiently as Eluon swallowed, glanced at him and to the other two elves. “You cannot be serious to suggest I’m in league with those rebels?” he muttered the last word with uttermost disgust.
Calemir’s face turned serious, giving up on the charade. In a sudden burst of movement, Calemir had his grip tight on Eluon’s neck. “Why?” one word charged with disappointment and anger.
“Is that right?” Síron asked, shock evident his voice.
“Believe me” Eluon chocked, his hand on Calemir’s, trying to ease the vice grip he had on him.
“You’re lying” Brasson accused, his posture drawing tight.
“Are you planning an overthrow? Who else is involved?” Calemir demanded, his fingers squeezing harder until his captive gasped for air.
“Prince Calemir I heard you are here”, a familiar voice started in a pretentious tone before trailing to silence. “What is this?’’ Lord Ivlisar asked, taking in the scene.
“I am falsely accused” Eluon squeaked eagerly.
“Of what?”
“Of…” Eluon wheezed, his face red to the likes of a ripe tomato.
“Speak up” the lord reproached, not understanding a lick of what he had just mumbled. Clucking, the lord looked at Calemir who was yet to acknowledge his presence. “By gods, release him so he can speak properly.”
The lord’s eyes bored at the prince, burning an imaginary hole in his skull when the prince didn’t do what he had just said. Prince or not, he was high lord, for thousands of years over the nubile. He deserved to be respected. “The law demands a fair trial be given to the accused before being sentenced.”
“The law doesn’t apply to the one who has committed treason” Calemir retorted.
“The court of Ontophen is yet to determine his wrongdoings. By the law even you, your Highness cannot interfere until the man is proven guilty” the lord said smugly. Jaw ticking, Calemir uncurled his fingers from the traitor, taking a step back, he ordered the lord. “You are a high lord, a member of the court, ask him now if he is not aiding the rebels.”
The lord’s head jerked back slightly, stunned. “It cannot be true, captain Eluon would never do such a thing.” he dismissed.
“Then ask him, properly as it is done in court,” Calemir said, his patience running out. Calemir kept a keen eye on the lord as the lord’s eyes narrowed at Eluon. “Swear to Faethurin you are innocent from what prince Calemir accuses you of,” Calemir nearly rolled his eyes at the pettiness. “and you are not supporting the rebels in any way.”
Eluon’s eyes moved to his once close comrades Síron and Brasson then to the prince and the high lord.
“Move” Calemir brushed the lord aside roughly as he lunged for the traitor who already had his sword drawn and attacked the two other elves that had been hesitant, unsure whether to attack their friend or not. The two had been incapacitated by the truth they had seen his eyes which gave Eluon a perfect chance to pummel them on the head hard with the heavy butt of his sword that sent them down before pouncing on the prince. With his own unsheathed sword, Calemir fended the blows. The two fought, tearing the room down. AS the two went for each other’s throat, the lord made a dash for the door. Sooner than later, Calemir and Eluon followed behind, flying through the window and landing on the ground with a hard thud. The crash snagged a few bystanders.
Calemir stalked toward him and rested the tip of his sword at the hollow base of the elf’s neck. “Who else is involved? Where are you planning?” he hissed.
“Nuxvar” he offered when the tip sank lower.
“Where else?” the hard gleam in those green eyes stole his breath and left terror in his bone. “Fallkirk and Pirn” Eluon offered eagerly.