Milo

  It was too early for them to be banging the bell. I still felt half-drunk from the night before, and there was no way it could be morning if I were this drunk.

  “Milo, up ya go,” someone slurred at me. “Cap’n’s comin’, he is.”

  “Still dark. Bet m’ still halfway t’ hammered,” I mumbled.

  “Yeah... right y’are. Feelin’ well pickled meself. Don’t seem right for mornin’, but reckon we oughtta shuffle up t’ deck, see what’s the ruckus,” Caden hiccupped back.

  Quickly, I snatched my pants and slipped into them. They were on backward, but at this hour, I couldn’t care less. Sleep was a promise that seemed close enough to grasp. I lumbered after Caden to the main deck, and when he threw open the door, the midnight darkness still held the world in its grip. We wouldn’t be roused this early without reason, and I had a sinking feeling that, as usual, the captain would find a way to blame us for whatever was amiss.

  Once on deck, I observed that people from the other ships were up as well, some bizarrely ducking and bobbing as though in some disjointed dance. The focus of their attention was on the docks, and I followed their gazes.

  There, amid the dim light, a lone figure stood, circled by eight glowing sticks that cast an eerie illumination. Hidden in the shadowy backdrop, an indiscernible number of figures lurked, bows aimed at selected boats. The figure at the heart of this spectacle appeared to be an Elf, but what was one doing here?

  Spotting a bow pointed at our vessel, I instinctively tried to duck for cover but ended up unceremoniously tumbling onto my rear. However, as no arrows zipped through the air, I dared to peek over the edge, trying to figure out what was unfolding.

  Then, the figure at the center began to bellow. “Do you know what this is?” The Elf brandished an arrow aloft for all to see, and when met with silence, he elaborated, “This is an arrow designed to activate the traps your vessels are standing on.”

  A closer examination revealed a crystal embedded halfway down the arrow’s shaft. It might indeed be a trap-triggering arrow, or it could be a ruse, an imitation designed to make us believe it was. These arrows were closely guarded, and only a select few even had access to them. The reason was simple: only these arrows were synced with the traps in this dock. Arrows from elsewhere, even if they were trap arrows, would be ineffective, functioning as nothing more than ordinary arrows unless specifically attuned.

  If these were genuine, it suggested the shadowy archers might also possess such arrows. And if that were true, they could decimate every ship docked here with little effort. An arrow crossing the border of the trap field would trigger all the traps that were so painstakingly laid out ahead of time, destroying the ships above them.

  “My archers here have these arrows trained on your ships. If you don’t leave your ships, then…” At that moment, an arrow flew into the Elf. It hit him directly in the chest, but he did not go down. He just stood there, tall and proud.

  In response, a solitary arrow was loosed back at the ship that had dared attack the Elf. The arrow crossed the dock, journeying over the water toward the offending vessel. Before it even struck, a colossal explosion erupted. It seemed as if fireballs were consuming the ship while lightning sparked through the flames. The sight was both breathtaking and horrifying, the likes of which I had never witnessed. I was no stranger to mages casting spells or to traps detonating, but I had never seen such a concentrated, simultaneous release of multiple traps. The intensity and raw power of the spectacle were both immense and fear-inspiring.

  When the initial detonation and the brilliant light that banished the darkness subsided, remnants of the ship began raining down. I stood, jaw agape, bracing for the shockwave. But no such wave came. Whoever had designed the trap had done so with impressive precision, confining the destructive force strictly within the target area.

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  “As I was saying, all passengers must disarm and vacate their ships now. Any people who wish to stay on their ships can, but we will make an example to show that these arrows aren’t fake,” the Elf yelled over the crackling of the fire, and the ship parts still falling.

  “Who are you?” another person on a ship yelled, but no one moved.

  “I’m glad you asked,” the man said and smiled while pulling out the arrow from its body and tossing it to the floor without even a second glance. “I am the immortal Grey Elf! As long as your people continue to have slaves, I will continue to destroy your empire one brick at a time.” The Elf then looked at his wrist for some reason and said, “If you aren’t down here soon, I will let my minions open fire on one ship at a time randomly! Let’s see which ship should be first to blow.”

  I had no desire to be aboard the next targeted ship, so I bolted from my vessel, abandoning my knife on deck just in case the invaders were checking for those still armed. The captain had dumped this lousy assignment on me, and I wasn’t about to lose my life trying to prove a point. Besides, what could I do against those arrows?

  Upon reaching the docks, I noticed the chaotic scene around me. Crew members from all the other ships were rushing, their shouts and hurried footsteps echoing in the night. Each face reflected the fear I felt, reminding us of the stark reality of our situation. Despite the commotion, the sight of the destroyed ship’s remains sent a hush over the crowd. With no more arrows flying, it seemed that everyone had chosen to abandon ship.

  “Good. Now, we need you all to go to the prisoner cells,” the Elf instructed.

  As we were all on the docks now, he didn’t look as intimidating since I could tell he was shorter than I expected. What was strange was the arrow wound that I was hoping would be bleeding was already closed and healing before my eyes. I had heard that Grey Elves could heal fast before they were wiped out, but this was way quicker than anticipated. Did he drink a health potion? Looking around, the Elf did have an unknown number of people still hiding in the dark, and that was scary as could be. They could all be highly trained Elves ready to kill all of us, and we couldn’t defend ourselves without any weapons.

  As the Elf issued his command, we all rushed toward the stone cages built directly into the rock face. My heart hammered in my chest as I jostled and pushed my way through the crowd. Everyone was frantic, and the collective panic pushed us forward. I could feel elbows jabbing into my ribs and bodies pressing against me from every side. The chaos fueled by fear was as intense as the strong, sulfurous smell of the tar. The scent wasn't unfamiliar on the docks, since it was used for waterproofing ships, but its potency was unusually intense.

  In the frenzy, I found myself shoved from behind. Losing my footing, I landed hard on the dock. Then, without warning, someone’s foot trampled on my hand in their haste. As I looked down, I noticed the grit and tar sticking to my palms. The tar was thick and heavy, coating my hands as I pushed myself back up. Its smell seemed stronger than ever, a bitter stench mixing with my growing fear, leaving me perplexed about the tar’s presence on the floor.

  Suddenly, the Elf’s voice rang out again, “You better hurry. If you look at the ground beneath you, you can see the same tar that is used to seal your ships. In a few moments, we will set the docks and all the ships aflame. I want you to stay alive to deliver my message.” He tilted his head, and my first thought was ‘Is he insane?’ “Although I don’t need all of you to deliver a message, it wouldn’t be that bad to watch a few of you burn.”

  His eyes, along with the tilt of his head, indicated a level of insanity that was chilling. Attacking our island in the first place was an audacious act. The authorities would hunt him down to the ends of the ocean, but this... this was on another level. Seeing the fervor in his eyes, the crowd began pushing and shoving even more fiercely, and chaos ensued.

  With the realization of being covered in tar, I was among the most vehement to reach the safety of the cages. Despite the panic, I noticed one sailor trying to climb a wall to reach the city. It was too sheer to be accomplished, but he was trying anyway. Then he was met with an arrow in the back from one of the Elf’s henchmen. It was a normal arrow, but the warning was clear, forcing us to hasten to the cages.

  In my life, I never imagined finding comfort in one of these enclosures. The thought had always been terrifying, given I was barely a step above the common slave. However, the fact that the cage was tar-free brought a strange comfort. Once they locked us in, my panic began to rise again, but I had to trust that the flames wouldn’t reach us.

  Soon, I could see the ships vacating the bay as the first glow of fire became visible in the distance. It was a cruelly beautiful spectacle of orange, yellow, and red against the darkness. The ominous glow quickly transformed into a consuming heat, and a wave of brilliant light headed in our direction.