The Siege of Darkwell

“That’s the thing about this city….” Autumn said as she twirled around under the serene trees. 

“What?” Isabelle replied, a hint of curiosity creeping into her voice. “I do love this city.” 

Autumn laughed, her dark hair spilling down her back. “Well, Darkwell is a beauty, for one. The marble turrets and all the red and yellow flags waving in the wind.” 

“Ohhhh, I understand.” Emersyn chimed in. “And all the people selling fruit and things in those gorgeous wooden stalls on Main Street?” 

Autumn nodded, running a finger through her hair. “And all the different races living here? Elves, Dwarves, Gnomes, and Humans.” 

“Once I even saw a centaur!” Isabelle laughed, her shoulders springing up. “He was trying to sell me leaf lingerie! Can you imagine?” 

Emersyn and Autumn laughed with her. 

“And...once, I got lost and ended up in a beautiful library, where this wizard looked at me like I was crazy!” Emersyn remembered, holding her stomach, rolling on the forest floor. 

After they had all calmed down, they sat in a circle, the three of them facing each other. Emersyn and Isabelle both knew that Autumn was the leader of the clique of juvenile Elves, and though back when they first became friends, they’d both been intimidated by her, now they were all on the same boat. They'd trained together and been friends for almost 100 years, not very long for the immortal Elves. 

They were now in the Darkwell forest, the lovely forest that stretched on three sides of Darkwell. Darkwell lay in the vast Elven kingdom of Goldhorn. 

“So...Autumn...you were saying, ‘That’s the thing about this city’” Emersyn said after glancing at Isabelle. 

“Yes...so. You know how Darkwell is surrounded by these woods?” Autumn said, glancing down at her long legs that were intertwined on the ground. 

“Yes.” The other girls replied. 

“Well, last night, I sort of had a premonition.” 

“A premonition?” Isabelle said, furrowing her eyebrows. 

Autumn nodded. “It was of Darkwell burning. Overrun by Orcs. And the thing is, well, Darkwell would be easy to take.” 

Emersyn gaped. “But...how?” 

Autumn sighed. “King Theon isn’t thinking things through. He’s only got defenses on the side facing the Scarlet Plains, not the Woods. The Orcs could sneak through the forest.” 

Isabelle and Emersyn were speechless. “Well, Autumn, it’s hard for me to say this but...your dreams usually come true. Remember that time you dreamt we’d have a substitute trainer, and you were right?” Isabelle said softly. 

The Elves laughed nervously. 

“Speaking of training, shouldn’t we get ready? You know, warn the King? Ready our bows and armor?” Emersyn asked, her piercing blue eyes shifting between Autumn and Isabelle. 

The other two nodded solemnly. They stood up and slid their boots back onto their bare feet. “Isabelle.” Emersyn whispered as Autumn walked into the King’s castle to warn him. 

“What?” Isabelle sat next to Emersyn on a secluded balcony overlooking the Scarlet Plains. 

“I...I just want you t-to know th-that…” Emersyn started to sob. 

Isabelle wrapped her arms around her friend. “Keep going.” she said soothingly. 

“Well..Autumn’s premonitions are usually right...so if this one is...I just wanted you to know that...it’s been...nice having friends.” Emersyn’s tears dried.

Emersyn liked to say they were like a pineapple, which they had tasted once when it was imported from the coastal village of Waterfall Crest. Emersyn was the hard outside, Isabelle was the fruit, and Autumn was the juice that flowed through the pineapple. 

Isabelle held onto Emersyn for a while longer, rocking them back and forth. Suddenly a yell rang through the pristine white marble streets. “All swordsmen to the gate! All archers to the designated posts!” 

Emersyn looked up, her hard resolve back in place. Autumn ran out of the castle, her brown eyes wide. “He wouldn’t listen to me!” she cried. 

“It doesn’t matter. A general is calling for us.” Emersyn said.

Isabelle looked at her two friends before saying “Yes. It’s begun.” 

They ran to the armory and equipped their bows and light chain armor. Other people were there too, some mirroring the trio’s nervous expressions, others wearing faces of courage. The stuff of legend.

A pack of Dwarves charged out of the armory to the gate to fight the tide of Orcs. 

The Pineapple gang climbed up to their archery posts and began shooting into the throng of Orcs. They all had about 60 extra arrows apiece along with the 24 or so strapped onto their backs. 

Autumn lit one of her arrows on fire with a brazier on the archery post and shot it into an Orc’s scalp. Some Gnomes on the next post shot fast and shouted encouragement to the girls. 

Emersyn fumbled with her bow before arcing a shot into the throng of Orcs and killing one. "I'm better at swords." She mumbled sheepishly.

They poured in from the Scarlet Plains, hundreds of them. “We can’t make a dent! There’s too many of them!” Emersyn yelled to the Gnomes. 

Suddenly one of the Gnomes drew a curved scimitar and slid down the archery post. She shook her head to let out her clumsily made bun and sliced threw Orcs. The others followed, wielding similar scimitars. 

The first Gnome to abandon her archery post eventually took a sword through her abdomen. As if in slow motion, Isabelle watched as the Gnome cried out, and then fell, her white blond hair spread out around her on the ground, only to get dirtied by the muddy feet of an Orc. The dead Gnome laid peaceful, her eyes closed, the delicate lines of her face beautiful. Her scimitar still laid clutched in her hand, her final grip still very strong. 

Her friends started to cry, and threw themselves into the battle. The dead Gnome had paved a way for other fighters. She had taken out a fair few. A Dwarf rushed towards the body, killing Orcs as he did, and lifted up the corpse and carried it into a nearby chapel. 

Isabelle put a hand over her mouth and made a sobbing noise. Autumn and Emersyn kept shooting, silent tears running down their faces. 

Isabelle shot a few Orcs and then said “Damn this!” she picked up her longsword and jumped into the battle. 

“Wait! Isabelle!” she heard Emersyn call. 

She cut through Orcs like a butcher would slice a hog. Around her, there were bodies and the stains of blood on the stone streets. “Hi-yah!” Isabelle heard Autumn yell behind her, and the screech of Autumn’s sword getting unsheathed. 

Autumn’s sword was a beauty, a strong iron thing, with amber on the hilt and her name, Autumn Whitefang engraved on the blade.

Autumn cut through Orcs with a strong vigor. Isabelle looked over to her side and saw Emersyn stabbing Orcs. 

The defenders of Darkwell fought the Orcs for hours, getting tired and picking back up. The Scarlet Plains really were stained scarlet with the blood of Orcs and Humans and Dwarves and Elves.

After the battle, Isabelle picked her way through the corpses, smoke rising up in plumes around her. It was dusk, and the Darkwell was safe. They had driven the Orcs away. “Autumn! Emersyn!” Isabelle yelled, holding the broken hilt of her longsword in her hand. She needed a new one. 

She heard Autumn sobbing and ran to her figure sitting on the ground surrounded by bodies of Orcs. 

“What? Autumn...what….” Isabelle’s voice faltered. 

Autumn was bawling, hunched over a dead body. Not any dead body. 

“No! Not Emersyn!” Isabelle said, choking up, dropping the remains of her sword on the ground.

Isabelle dropped to her knees next to Autumn. She was sobbing too. 

The two Elves looked at the lifeless shell of Emersyn. They were quiet, not making a sound, but hundreds of words passed between them then. 

After a long time, Isabelle broke the silence as if she was stepping on a thin sheet of ice. “I guess this is why they called them the Scarlet Plains.” she said softly. 

Autumn nodded. “Emersyn.” she whispered, tracing her thumb along Emersyn’s jawbone. “I wonder how it happened.” 

Isabelle pointed to a gaping hole in Emersyn’s tunic and pulled back the flap of fabric. A mess of blood rested on Emersyn’s pale skin. 

They stared at Emersyn’s wound a while longer. “I hope whatever vermin did it died.” Autumn spat. “They deserve death. The Orcs were bred to kill.” 

Isabelle nodded. “We should help clean up the defenders of Darkwell’s bodies.” she said softly, all her fighting courage gone. 

As they made countless visits to the chapel to deposit the fallen over the next few hours, a thought occurred to Isabelle. 

“Autumn…” 

“What?” 

“If I hadn’t abandoned my archery post...Emersyn wouldn’t have died.” Isabelle said so softly, she almost didn’t make any noise. It was the first time either of them had admitted out loud that Emerson was gone. 

Autumn’s pointed ears picked up Isabelle’s voice and she softened. “No...don’t say that. Either way, we would have run out of arrows. I know it was that dead Gnome that got you out on the ground. It broke me too, and I know Emersyn was shaken up by it as well. She was a fighter, and did you see all those dead Orcs around her? She brought down 70 and died in the process. She was a hero.” 

Isabelle nodded, tears trailing down her cheeks again. “What will we do without the hard skin to protect the pineapple?” 

Autumn laughed softly, and bit her lip. “I don’t know. But I do know one thing.” 

“What?” 

“Emersyn would have wanted the pineapple to keep living on. I know this sounds cliché, but she wouldn’t have wanted us to give up.” 

“Yeah…” 

In the darkness of the night, and the silence, Isabelle felt strangely at peace. The absence of parties and the gang of Dwarves that threw them chilled her. 

The gloom of the marble towers and turrets and buildings of the city loomed in front of them, and Isabelle gasped softly. It was so beautiful, so sad. It held centuries of memories. 

Isabelle remembered something Autumn had said. She began, ready to launch into a story, “That’s the thing about this city…”