Gabrel quickly pushed all the counsellors in and pulled the armaments, "Get the door."
The hatch raised before us guarding from the axes and rocks, the orcs jumped to catch the ship. Fyena retracted as she fired the bow. We took our positions to the mounted weapons, it was the same crossbow used by the knights. I pulled the string and loaded the first arrow. The ship lifted on one side as it turned towards the East, getting us close to the orcs again.
"Move away," I shouted before firing the first arrow.
"I am," the elf in the wheel cried, we headed East.
I loaded the next arrow. The Council has three buildings, the west council, served and protected by the men, the east council, a monument built by the dwarfs and at last the head council, once built by the elves in the land of halflings. Now it's a rich city surrounded by vast land. The council had ruled the three for centuries, the wizard and his counsellors were the foundation and pillars of it. They stand beside good, fight battles in various lands, they hunt smugglers, they resolve arguments, defend the honours, overall serve for the peace.
We started to shift away from the council. The orcs threw clay pots that burst into fire, and jumped into the sea. Fyena pulled the handle and closed the hatch completely. The arrows stopped reaching, We finally dropped the bows and took a deep breath. Gabrel moved in to check with the wing. The council tower slowly went into the ground just like the great statue of the wizard.
"They made it," I said.
"Yes," Fyena said, as she sat back.
"How?"
She took a deep breath, "They got the head knights."
I sat up, the head knights were the best of the men. They were trained to fight the orcs after the rise of Orzhmen. They started knight chases, they stopped the arms supply, they were the best of men, "all two hundred?"
"They had a trail, they caught the Craftsman and captured the Condor."
The Condor was the flying arsenal that supplied elemental arms for Orzhmen. Condor was untrackable, it was run by a Dwelf named Edwin Wilbert, a craftsman who adopted spells. When they say Orzhmen, they don't fear the orc-elf, but the arms he held. Those were the most powerful weapons, but produced in abundance with the power of the arsenal. Then they were smuggled through the river root.
"A trap?"
"Orzhmen attacked the arsenal, and burnt everyone inside," she stood up.
I was astounded, "He pruned his own,"
She walked to me, put her hand on my shoulder and pressed it hard, "He sent a smuggler to trap them in."
At last it all tied up, smuggler, knight chase, the supply stops, they sent the only smuggler who survived, he led them to the arsenal, they ended it. They both had a loss, they both were weak, but when was a better time.
"Clinth," I said. The word struggled to get off my mouth. She tapped by shoulder and went in to catch up with Gabrel. Vyrarth was father's son, he shared his dreams, he shared his wrath, Clinthen was different, he wanted to get away, from all this, he was the only one who ever survived the knight chase. I had always wondered how; they had let him live for this day.
Gabrel came in discussing something with Fyena, he held my shoulder from behind, "Sorry for your loss."
I could only smile, I didn't know why, but that was all I had then, I made a subtle nod and rose from the armament when Fyena jumped towards the door and pulled Gabrel and the Hatch handle, both at once. The hatch opened and the air sucked us out in a snap. I was out, I was in the air falling, I could see distancing from the ship, I wanted to reach for it when the right side exploded. Huge smoking fire arrows drew long curves in the sky to reach the ship. It exploded into bright fire when a surface hit me from behind and sucked me in.