Challenge #04596-L212: The Betrayal Game

The battle had been long, had been bloody, had been brutal. The invading forces were finally thwarted, though everyone, Wraithvine included, were exhausted. Bribid nearly ended up exposed, and the forces they'd helped defend the land were now going through the sad job of tending to their wounded, and burying the dead. -- Fighting Fit

Regrettably, war is the only option left. It is the failure of diplomacy, and the last resort. Or at least, it should be. This war, thank the gods, was a last resort. There was no meeting in the middle when one side wanted the other side dead and cold in the ground.

The side that desired extermination had their desires turned against them. Those who wanted nothing more than to kill... were the ones who died.

They would not, however, be thrown into a midden - as their leader once boasted they would do to the residents of Harrin's Pass. That was what ultimately made the difference between the sides of the conflict.

There was a mass grave. A gigantic trench wide enough to fit each tall and slender body. Long enough to lay one hundred of them side by side. Each one laid there with respect, and at least a shroud cloth over their heads. With their shining black armour, they looked like beetles lined up in the earth.

Wraithvine knew. They were Elves. It was always hir own kind who had the arrogance to conquer that which was never theirs. Their armour from a species of beetle that had gone Dire. Farmed, harvested, and carved to shape for battle. Unlike most Deep Elves, they did not use the spider as their totem creature. Their emblem was a long beetle. Likely the same one they sourced their armour from. Like most Deep Elves, the commanders were female and the cannon fodder were male.

The Everdark and its Deep residents had some odd ideas about making functional societies.

There had to be others who followed the beetle. They would not expend their entire settlement on this effort. A saner head or two needed to prevail before things escalated.

Wraithvine took the helm of the leader, and a braid of her iridescent black hair. Mumbled a quick prayer for forgiveness as ze rose from the mass grave with hir new relics. Ze took a side trip to the healing tent where Bibrid had a debatably private cot. He needed it, as he'd lost some control over his form during the battle. Whatever drug these Deep Elves put on their arrows and blades, it had done some nasty work on the hidden Dragon.

He was still sleeping it off. Waking in terror that he'd been discovered, and only relaxing with a trusted soul nearby to tell him that all was well. Kannie, their latest traveling ward, had been doing the work since he was also laid up with a debilitating injury. The young Hellkin perked up at Wraithvine's entrance. "Is it over?"

"The fighting's stopped," allowed Wraithvine. "I have to try and stop more of it." Ze extracted Lilbit from her rest in hir portable tower. "You sit with him too. I'll... try to return in good time."

"...c'n y' bring back a cake?" managed Bibrid.

"I'll see what I can do." It took a fool, a truly brave soul, or an immortal to walk unarmed into the nest of an enemy. Lucky for Wraithvine, ze was all three. It was no small matter to track the beetle-army back to their settlement of origin. For the Everdark, a relatively small citadel complex. What might be a large town on the surface. The guards at these dark gates were smart enough to recognise Wraithvine and not give hir any trouble. They even gave hir directions.

The Matriarch was well into her second millennium, and had grown more than a little vague. It was debatable whether her age or the lead white makeup she used was to blame. But what was to blame was the scheming arm candy whispering a mixture of honey and vitriol into her ear.

"The other immortal has come," said the Matriarch. "Bring you news of the surrender and enslavement of Our property on the dayside?"

Wraithvine decided to ignore the 'other immortal' part. She was clearly not ageless, nor had the weariness behind the eyes of a true immortal. The very pretty companion-attendant had to have spun her a chain of lies about her lifespan. There were not-so-covert glances between that trophy husband a door guard with a strong familial resemblance that spoke of a power play some centuries in the making.

Smart Boy was cozying up to grand-daughter with his "bedside manner" whilst plying grandmother with flattery and interesting drugs. Waiting for the best moment for some "natural causes" to occur. And then grand-daughter would be in the best position to tearfully take the crown, the companion-attendant, and anything else she wanted out of grandmother's property.

Wraithvine wondered who else Smart Boy had in the wings for his sudden and inevitable betrayal.

"I regret to inform you that your efforts to conquer Harrin's Pass have failed." Wraithvine presented the helm and the braid. "All forces lost."

Granddaughter smirked a little, barely visible inside he helm. Evidently, this defeated leader was competition for the throne.

"Impossible," said the Matriarch. "My forces are unbeatable."

"Would you like to see the graves?" said Wraithvine. "Or shall we cut to the chase and cure the true poison in your realm?"

Smart Boy was smart enough to look very, very worried.

[Photo by Oleh Korzh on Unsplash]

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