Going Feet First Ch. 03

The man turned to the Knights in front of him, his lips moving, but his voice too low to hear. At once, Petra prepared to leap from the horse, to break left and hide in the rocks along the trench wall. With his enhanced vision Galen spotted a man in one of the archer slots of the tower, pulling back an arrow on his bow.

"This is the demon! KILL HIM!" the robed man screamed, both his hands lighting up into balls of fire.

WHAT THE FUCK?! The Private screamed in his head as his mouth froze. That's... that's bullshit!

Within the space of the next few seconds, Petra bounded off the horse, the line of Knights in front of the mage beginning to charge forth with their spears. The archer up atop the tower released his arrow, as did several other archers from separate windows. At the same time, the robed man, a mage, hurled the fireballs in his hand toward Galen as the Private struggled to bring his rifle around.

"Thrityh!" another voice screeched.

From the thin air, an explosion of frost smashed into the path in front of Galen, the mage's fireballs sputtering about before losing their flame. The volley of arrows that had been destined for Galen's heart caught within the frost as well, the projectiles going off course and harmlessly smashing into the ground. Without warning, the tower that had fired upon Galen erupted into flame, fireballs shooting out from the windows and blowing out the base. When something inside it gave a thunderous crack, the tower began to topple over into the trench.

"What the hell?!" Galen snapped, glancing over to Petra to see the Neko already using the distraction to her advantage and moving along the rocks past the still lingering cloud of frost. By the time the air had cleared, the soldier saw the squad of Knights rattling in their armor as they slipped around on a patch of ice. Just when Galen started to wonder where this all had come from, he received his answer.

Two warriors of the Sun-Kissed leapt up onto the path beside the mage, both of them drawing small contraptions from under their cloaks and firing something into the wizard before he could even cast another spell. As his lifeless body hit the ground with a small dart plunged in between his eyes, the two Dark Elves turned toward the shivering Knights. Whether it was because they didn't notice or didn't care, they ignored Petra as she took off in full-sprint past them down the path that led toward the city.

What Galen did not expect was to have three more of the Dark Elves appear behind him. One grabbed hold of his pack horse, leading it away while another raised a hand toward the soldier, giving her fingers a flick.

As if life itself was lashed from his body, Galen's entire being went numb just as the sky above went black. With the casting of the Drow's spell, the soldier couldn't maintain consciousness. He swiftly collapsed on his horse and fell into a deep sleep.

...

"Wake up. Comon, wanker, wake up!"

"Huh?" was the most Galen could get out before a gloved hand slapped him across the face.

"Wake it, sonny-boy!" the harsh voice snapped.

As his mind began pulling itself free from its slumber, Galen's head began to bob around while his body registered all the sensations roaming about it. Right away he could feel a numbing tingle in his fingers, especially in his left arm along his vine tattoo. He felt as if he'd been resting for hours, as his muscles felt rejuvenated and energized.

"There you go, get up."

"Who? What? Where?" he asked in a daze, pulling his eyes open to face whoever was speaking.

By now he realized he was sitting on a bench, or what felt like a bench, made of stone with nothing in the way of sheets or pillows. Had he been claustrophobic, he would have gone insane as he quickly found himself stuck within a stone cell barely four feet across. On his right was a metal door with a thin slot at his shoulder height that fed a dim light in from the outside.

The next physical realization to hit him was the lack of his helmet, webbing, and gear. His heart picked up as his hand suddenly shot for his hip, hoping to find his holster. Much to his despair, his sidearm was gone.

Having grasped his immediate surroundings, Galen focused on the stocky man standing in front of him. With very little light coming in through the slot in the door, the most he could make out was the stranger's short, dark hair covering his head and the thin stubble emerging from his jaw line. Whatever his eye color was, Galen could not tell, as he could hardly identify the color of his dark pants and light colored shirt.

"'Bout damn time you woke. What's your name, sonny?"

"Galen," the Private responded.

"Alright, Galen, name's Ray. Good to know you still got your mind in one place. The Knife-ears are known for strippin' the minds from men with their knock-out spell."

"What's going on?"

"We're in a Drow prison, that's what," Ray responded, quickly glancing out the slot in the door.

"How did I get here?" Galen wondered, still a bit groggy.

"I dunno. Knife-ears dragged you in a couple zetrans ago; I figured they captured you from some battle."

Right then the images of the events at the cliff side sprang into Galen's mind. The fireballs, the ice blast, the Drow saving him while Petra escaped toward the city, everything popped right back into his stream of consciousness. With this came a burning sense of frustration welling up in his chest, as he was thrust onto another detour in his road back to Celia. At least she won't be alone for long.

"Somethin' like that. Listen, Ray, I'm kinda new to this place and I have no idea who these Drow are. Could you give me a run-down on 'em? Help me figure this place out?"

Had there been more light in the room, Galen may have seen the shock on his cellmate's face. "You're pullin' my leg, right Galen? You aren't serious."

"I am," he answered, his frustration becoming audible annoyance.

"No way, everybody who speaks Common-Astikon knows of the Drow, or they'd have to be dead-brained! Drow are the evilest little bastard knife-ears on Raska! The kind that should be slaughtered like every other Elf in this world."

What the Hell did you just say?

"Ray, what do you mean, 'like every other Elf?'"

"They ought be purged, the lot of them. High Elves, Snow Elves, these damn Dark Elves, even them fuckin' Tree Elves I hear about. Fuckin' stain on our world is all they are. Like them fuckin' Nekos an' Lycans. Wipe em all out, I say. Only room for humans here."

"I'll have you know that my love is an Elf. A Tree Elf. And I do love her very much. So you watch your fuckin' mouth around me, or I'll break it," Galen thundered.

"You're an Elf fucker?" Ray quickly chuckled in a sarcastic manner. "What, can't get a human broad so you go after one of them filthy creatures? Proud of an elven whore, are ya? Ya fuckin' traitor!" he snapped, rising from his seat.

"One more word about Elves and you're gonna find out why you shouldn't piss off a US Army paratrooper of the 101^st Airborne. So, boy, don't fuckin' push me."

From the sounds of Ray's voice, he had at least ten years on Galen, but at the moment the Private didn't care. He was on his feet and in Ray's face, the two men sizing each other up. The Knight was at least an inch taller and thirty pounds heavier, but he had only primitive training in hand-to-hand whereas Galen had proper instruction and practice, as he was about to demonstrate.

"A oo-ess Army para-what? You been munching herbs, boy?! I am a full Knight of the Redding Understorm Brigade!"

"You're nothin' in this cell, you Redding prick! I must have killed fifteen shit-kickers like you this morning! Watched as you bastards scattered like rats and died like dogs!"

"Oh you Elf-fuckin' SON OF A WHORE!"

......

Three Drow women in black, yellow trimmed leather armor leaned against the wall in the middle of a long stone corridor, listening to the disturbance in the cell in front of them. The torch burning above their heads cast its weak light off their snow-white hair while their obsidian faces remained shrouded in darkness.

Two were smirking, and one was grinning wide with teeth as white as her hair catching the torchlight.

For the next small while, they listened to the swearing of the two fighters in the cell. Punches connected with flesh in powerful, audible hits. Bone smacked against stone several times, one being hard enough for the guards to hear a definitive crunch and cry of pain. Still, they stood silently by as the two men continued to duke it out. The grinning Elf had to smother her laughter.

"I can't believe they are still going," one of them signed with her hands in Silent Tongue.

Her sisters-in-arms replied in kind. "That one in the green, he must be stronger than he looks. The Redding scum was a large one."

Crack!

"Told ya, ya stupid son of a bitch," a heavily panting voice wheezed.

The grinning elf silently extended her hand outward; her fellow warrior grudgingly placed a small pouch in her palm.

The third shook her head, still smiling. "I'll alert the commandant. You two make sure one of them is still alive."

She pushed off from the wall and headed off down the corridor, leaving the other two behind to deal with their prisoners. With her partner holding her short sword at the ready, the one Drow guard pulled a key from her belt and unlocked the cell door.

Chanting under his breath, Galen stood above Ray's unconscious body while running a glowing white hand along his face. Blood vaporized from his skin, his nose straightening out as the capsule within pieced back together. At first the Private relished in the magical relief, but then suddenly winced as his last bruise cleared up and the after effect struck his nerves.

When his body was healed, and his focus came upon the two guards; the women advanced a step while holding a threatening pose. For a moment, Galen cocked an eyebrow, softening his expression as he came to stand at-ease. This move was much to the Drows' surprise, as they had half-expected, maybe half-hoped, that he would attack the second he realized his door was open.

With the full light of the torch in the hall illuminating the cell, Galen looked down and nearly wavered in his stance in the wake of the damage he had done. Ray's head was cracked open as he lay on the floor of the cell, his chest hardly moving as his blood dripped down from the stone bench on the side of the cell.

A cold feeling bounced around within the hollow of Galen's chest as he stared at the body. As much as he had tried to fight it back, as much as he tried to search for pity to give for this man's life, he couldn't help but smile. Another obstacle in between him and Celia was gone.

"Come out of your cell, Galen," a familiar voice ordered.

Both of the Drow that had been standing outside his cell immediately backed off, stepping against the wall before one motioned Galen forward. The other merely grinned at him. His brow came down over his eyes as he strongly recognized the voice that spoke just now. He couldn't place it, but he recognized it.

With due caution the Private slowly stepped toward the door, peering into the hall to find another three Drow waiting for him a few feet away.

With the direct light from the torch plus the enhancements to his vision, Galen was able to fully take in the full appearance of each one of the Dark Elves. Though they all varied in heights and faces, their coloring was all the same: full heads of pure white hair contrasting perfectly with pitch black skin and accented with blood-red eyes.

He noted especially the armor the Elves wore. The guards of the prison wore a thick, black leather armor that could clearly soften any blunt blow or improvised shiv. However, the new arrivals seemed to dress in a more casual manner while still holding a degree of uniformity: black cloth pants with matching felt boots covered their lower bodies while a thicker, dark-yellow felt shirt and black jackets covered their upper bodies.

The only real difference between these casual uniforms was the accessories. The two subordinates wore belts retrofitted with several pouches and a sheath for the long daggers on their hips.

In an obvious move to be noticeably unique, the leader bore a white sash across her waist embroidered with two black suns on the end. Where the other Elves had their hair braided, pony tailed, or cut, she kept her long white flow free to run down over the back nearly to the waist of her jacket. Hers was a white long-coat with a high collar that bore a single golden medallion on either shoulder.

"Welcome, Galen, to our home," started their leader. "Will you kill the human now, or later?"

The question caught Galen off guard for a moment, making him take a moment to replay it in his mind before he remembered, Shit, right, they think I'm a demon.

"He'll die where he lies," he answered, not even glancing down at Ray.

A sadistic grin came over the head Drow's face as she locked eyes with Galen. It was now that he realized her irises were not red like the others around him. The voice, the rank, the rich purple eyes... he began kicking himself for not recognizing his timely distraction sooner.

Dreek took in an air of victory as she turned toward the dark corridor behind her, motioning her subordinates to follow. "I like you already. Come with me."

Galen didn't feel like he had much choice in the matter as the two guards circled in behind him, the platinum-haired Elves still keeping their weapons at the ready. Paying no mind to them, he began trailing close behind the Drow until they reached a heavy iron door to which Dreek had a key.

Past the door was a room in which there was nothing but absolute darkness. Galen's strained his eyes focused the best he could as he tried to see... something.

Out of instinct, he began fishing into his pocket for his lighter, giving his silent thanks as his fingers met the cold metal of the zippo. However, as he pulled the small device from his pocket and flicked the lid, he suddenly felt the edge of a blade against his neck while two more poked into his back.

Left hand now trembling, he struck the flint, finding one of Dreek's guards one flick of the wrist away from slicing his throat open. The guard flinched at the sudden flame and hissed something at him.

"Relax, it's just a lighter," he said, holding it up for the Elves to see. "I can't see in the dark."

"Keetle," Dreek addressed calmly. "Aizil, Balra, the demon would not be so foolish."

The three women answered their commandant in their own language before withdrawing their daggers. Feeling the blade move away from his neck, Galen let the air out his lungs and took a breath in relief.

The room they were in had a circular stairwell in the corner, which Dreek proceeded to climb all the way to the top. There were several levels in between the prison at the bottom and whatever was at the top, but despite his curiosity Galen ignored these doors and pressed on. He kept up with the Drow ahead of him as they climbed the stairs, though he subconsciously stayed a few steps behind, keeping the soft sways of their hips just a few feet in front of his face.

At the top of the stairs was another door, one made of solid wood with a decorative metal handle. Just as she came to it, Dreek stopped and turned back toward Galen with a set of shackles in her hands. Behind him the two guards readied their blades.

"Put these on if you intend to live to see the surface again," Dreek ordered. "My sisters will not take kindly to a demon walking free about our home."

Sensing the blades poised at his back, Galen pocketed his lighter and accepted the cuffs. Even in the pitch black, he could feel the empowered smile of the Elves around him as the steel braces locked around his wrists.

Hearing the metal clicks, Keetle waved her hand at the door at the top of the stairs, the handle twisting down and the door swinging open to a spacious and quite luxurious living area filled with fine furnishings and decorations. More than three dozen pairs of eyes all turned toward the Private and his escorts as they entered.

Unlike the prison at the lower level, this vast room was well lit by an ornate chandelier of glowing, cyan rocks and small candles placed strategically throughout the room. In the middle of the room was a round, stone table surrounded by almost a dozen Drow who had been sifting through several documents prior to Galen's entrance

To Galen's left was a larger set of doors that had slots along the middle that one could slide in a 4-by-4 to bar it shut. Along the same wall as the door were lines of bookshelves packed to their limits, as well as multiple cabinets and weapon racks.

Organized neatly around the stone table in the center were assorted styles of couches and chairs that surrounded the decorative tables and desks, all of them again occupied by the Drowesses.

If the women were some kind of military group, they did not live like one. Their home was beginning to look more like an art gallery or noble's home than a base as the wall to Galen's right hung different kinds of expensive looking curtains draped over the stone. Some of these silk or velvet decorations were pulled back to showcase displays of decorative armors, weapons, and even paintings.

One picture was the expertly painted persona of a radiantly gorgeous Drowess with pure crimson eyes sitting upon a golden throne. She was dressed in divinely rich clothes that were a rainbow of colors from across the spectrum. On either side of her sat two beautiful girls of matching beauty but different ages. If Galen didn't know of the slow aging process that Elves had, he would've sworn them all to be sisters.

"Quit gawking and follow," Dreek ordered, bringing Galen's attention back to her as she continued across the hall. Groups of the Drow females humbly parted way for their commandant yet glared so viciously upon Galen.

Are these noble women or something? the soldier wondered as he continued to follow Dreek across the hall toward a pair of double doors at the far end. One of the Drow hissed something out at him, her commandant chuckling before saying something in reply.

So the Dark Elves speak a language Celia doesn't know, wonderful, Galen thought as much of the room began to whisper about what he assumed to be him.

Once again Keetle waved her hand at the doors ahead, her magic opening them up to a smaller, darker room on the other side. At once Galen's gut began to churn in reluctance, making him slow his approach. That nagging feeling within him warned him against entering that dark room, but the blades at his back pushed him forward.

Dreek's second follower stayed back with the two Drow in the leather armor back as the door shut behind Galen, leaving him in the absolute dark with his hostesses. Somehow for reasons he couldn't explain, the magical tingle within his body seemed to amplify again, his fingers beginning to glow on their own without his effort.

A sudden shuffling in front of him brought his attention forward. He raised his cuffed hands as they lit up with its enchanted glow, illuminating the entire room around him. Along the back wall was a bookshelf; in each corner was a sizable desk with plush arm chairs behind them. Gathered in front of the table in the center of the room were six Drow all in a line. Dreek and Keetle were on the left; Galen recognized them in an instant. The others he could only assume to be the Sun-Kissed's second and first commandant with their aids, based on their uniforms.

Like Dreek, the other commandants wore white long-coats over their yellow shirts as well as the white sashes around their waists. Only where Dreek had single star medallions on her shoulders, another commandant had two, while the last one had three.