Right under their noses. It was a cliché expression, but one
that couldn’t have been more true for Daniel and Raven. The portal to the elven
world was right under the destroyed bronze statue of King Arthur Triscloud
himself. Most audience members and even the bands themselves thought this was
just a pretty decoration. Seeing sacrilegious treatment of her father’s
centerpiece brought a scowl to Raven’s face. She nevertheless took Daniel’s
hand like they were going on a date, to which the Lord of the Pit was sweating
bullets. The elf warrior drew her blade, stuck it in the statue’s receptacle,
and opened a beautifully-colored blue portal that sucked the two of them in.
Traveling through this portal was like floating in zero
gravity. It relaxed Daniel’s stressed out body while Raven remained stoic and
brave during transit. Seeing such vibrant shades of blue and being able to
taste them reminded Daniel of that acid flashback he had been promised earlier.
He even saw a purple breeze blowing through this dark blue netherworld, which
left him in an even bigger state of awe. Waves and shapes assaulted his mind
and left him feeling peaceful, no trace of trauma or heartache to speak of.
When the duo finally crossed over to the elven world, Daniel
still believed he was high on drugs. Just like the portal, the skies were
lovely shades of dark blue and purple. The ivory white buildings were twisted
like lovely seashells. The roads were paved with silver. The trees and foliage
in between buildings and roads were strewn with vibrant, rainbow-like colors.
Elf children played in the streets with so much happiness. Elf adults went
about their business whether it was blacksmithing, selling fruits and
vegetables, or grooming cuddly creatures like horses, cats, and dogs.
“Tell me again how your world was conquered and devastated
by the humans,” said Daniel sarcastically.
“Trust me, Daniel, it took us a long time to relocate and
rebuild after such an atrocity. The only reason the elven world looks this good
is because we managed to hide ourselves for so long. By getting his views on
television, Roger Zee has done more harm than good when it comes to us staying
hidden in the underground,” said Raven. She took Daniel’s hand once more and
said, “Come on. Let’s go see the king.”
As the two of them walked down the street together, this
very much was feeling like a date to the heavy metal singer. Sure, they hardly
knew each other, but the life of a rock star always meant fast relationships
and even faster women. Under ordinary circumstances, Daniel wouldn’t have been
so sweaty and jittery. But this was an elf woman. This was the kind of woman he
fantasized about when playing D&D as a teenager. He never in his wildest
dreams imagined it would come to fruition. But what was he thinking? He was
getting too far ahead of himself.
The king’s castle was even lovelier to look at than the rest
of the city and that was saying something. Crystalline light blue walls, a
golden arch holding the double doors together, the spiral-like towers on all
four corners, the emerald dragon statue staring down at the city with a wizened
gaze, a castle truly fit for an elven king. The two leather armor-wearing,
poleax-wielding guards nodded at Raven before letting her and Daniel inside.
The stained glass decorations, the diamond-like dragon heads
on the walls, the soft red carpeted floors (which were comfortable enough to
sleep on), all of these led the way to King Arthur Triscloud’s throne in the
back of the castle. He was a marvel to behold with his lavish red robes, golden
crown encrusted with amethysts, spectacles resting comfortably on the bridge of
his nose, his massive blade by his side, wrinkled skin, and lengthy white beard
hanging down his chin. His smile was warmer than a tropical breeze when he
greeted his daughter and her new charge.
“Thank you for bringing this young man into our world,
dearest daughter,” said King Triscloud. “The two of you look like you’ve been
through some battles together. But it’s nothing our healers and witchdoctor’s
can’t fix.” From out of the shadows, two healers dressed in silky white robes
approached Raven and Daniel with baskets of herbs, leaves, and oils. They
removed their makeshift bandages and allowed the healers to close their wounds
with pasted leaves. The sting of the liquid forced Daniel to wince and drop an
F-bomb, but his wounds were sealed over nicely, as well as Raven’s.
“Listen, Mr. Triscloud,” said Daniel. “Your daughter here
tells me that she brought me here because you think I’m actually capable of
taking down this Roger Zee asshole who’s been cutting up people left and right.
Here you are with this army of elves, most of them at least partially trained
in combat, yet you want me, a guy with no fighting experience, to do battle
with this lunatic. I’ve tried to explain this to Raven here, but she won’t
budge. Please talk some sense into your own flesh and blood.” That last remark
earned him a backhanded smack in the arm from Raven.
King Triscloud chuckled heartily before saying, “Yes, we do
have some of the finest warriors at our disposal, but violence alone is not
enough to bring down Roger. He was part of an elite group of soldiers known as
The Order of the Spider. Most of these warriors died in our conflict with the
humans. Roger survived. Over time he became bitter and disgusted with society
in general. He blames humans for desecrating our holy grounds, but at the same
time, he blames us for perceived softness and commitment to sinful magic. I
trusted him with my life. In turn, he became just as hostile as our invaders.”
“Well, it is nice to know that he’s doing this for a reason
and not just because he’s a random asshole,” said Daniel with his hands on his
hips. “But what does that have to do with me? What did I do to him that was so
disrespectful to his rightwing craziness?”
“He hates artistic endeavors. Your music and your homage to
dark magic are both symbols of individuality. Roger wants the world to conform
to one nation. He’s no different from any extremist you see on your television
sets. Individuality and free thought are both poison to a conformist society.
That’s why Roger wants to hunt you down. That’s why you are the only one who
can stop him. You’re not going to stop him with fighting skills alone. You’re
going to do it through your creativity,” said Arthur.
Daniel made a flat tire noise and shook his head before
saying, “You do realize that music doesn’t actually do anything, right? It’s
nice to listen to and it gets a lot of people through their days, but how is
any of this supposed to stop a guy with a fucking machete?”
“I’m glad you asked, Mr. Mercer,” said Arthur. “In your
escape from Roger’s mass murders, you left behind something of value to you and
your cause.”
“Oh, now you’re mocking me for leaving my band mates to get
slaughtered by this moron?”
“No, no! That’s not what I meant at all!” said the king as
he held up his hands defensively. “I’m talking about something entirely
different. You want to use music as a weapon? Now you can.” From his robes,
Arthur pulled out the battleaxe microphone that Daniel used during the concert.
It was now glowing with a golden aura, had crosses and symbols engraved on it,
and had the faces of the slain Demon Axe members infused into the blade.
The Lord of the Pit gazed at his microphone with wide eyes,
like he had just eaten a bag of psychedelic mushrooms. He slowly approached the
king, who held out the microphone in the palms of both hands for Daniel to
take. The singer stood back and swung the makeshift axe around, which left a
trail of gold dust in its wake. Just when it looked like he was completely
hypnotized by this artifact, he said, “Wait a minute,” and tried to use the
plastic blade as a weapon on his wrist. No cuts. No wounds. No nothing. Just
gold dust. Lots of lots of gold dust.
“Okay, you do realize that this microphone is just a prop
and isn’t a real weapon, right? How the hell do you expect me to slash the shit
out of Roger Zee with a piece of fucking plastic? His machete, on the other
hand, is very fucking real! I might as well have gotten my microphone from Toys
R Us!” shouted Daniel.
“Mr. Mercer, that’s not how you use the microphone,”
explained Arthur.
“Oh really? Then what am I supposed to do with it? Sprinkle
a whole bunch of fairy dust on him? Is he allergic to fairy dust now? Does he
have any other allergies I should be aware of? Peanuts? Plants? Animal fur?
Seriously, what the fuck were you thinking?”
Raven pleaded, “Daniel, just let him explain what it’s for
and then…”
“Explain?!” roared Daniel. “What is there to explain?! It’s
a fucking toy! Your wise, loving, all-powerful king gave me a fucking toy to do
battle with a goddamn zealot! Anything else would have been better! A lead
pipe, a BB gun, even a fucking pocket knife would have been better than this
toy! I told you time and time again, Raven, Demon Axe’s gimmick is just that: a
gimmick! Dark magic is about as fake as Hollywood
tits! It was a motivational tactic, that’s all it was!” He turned to Arthur and
shouted, “Thanks for sending me up shits creek without a fucking paddle! You’re
a great politician! Hell, you can’t be any worse than that idiot with the fake
hair! Fuck this, I’m out of here! Thanks for bringing my toy back!”
Daniel marched out of the castle with Raven following
closely behind and pleading with him to stay. Arthur could be heard in the
background grunting, “You stupid, selfish, silly man!” The Lord of the Pit
ignored him and continued storming through the elven world. With any luck, he
could pawn his microphone and travel somewhere that wasn’t infected with
terrorism or extreme violence of any kind. He’d have to do some research and
apply for a visa, but even living in the dankest, darkest parts of Africa was
better than fighting Roger Zee with a piece of glowing plastic.
