The Last Satyr: The Company is Formed Part 1
Kill Him

Instantly, Amien and young Joe drew their swords, Marroh had his ax out and the satyr his spear, aimed at the king, ready to make it his last order.

"Put your weapons down!" a voice ordered.

Graybeard, stepped forward and addressed the king. “You will not kill him! He is with me. I have heard such objections before. It seems everywhere I go I am accused of keeping bad company. The Dark Elves object to the satyr, the Light Elves object to the humans, and the humans object to the elf. It seems all object to all. It is time to put those differences aside and work together. And, since you are a king, so you shall.”

Each word spoken hung in the air like a suspended storm cloud, waiting for lightning to strike.

King Grendel’s eyes now turned back to him. Even sitting, he was tall, noble and proud. He was also hardly interested in what Graybeard had to say. He was not even threatened by the boy's poised, and well aimed, spear.

“Since when do I take orders from you?” he asked in retort. “You are not my keeper!”

"He's not mine either but here I am," said Marroh, his ax glinting, “And if it's royal dance you're wantin', we can certainly switch to that. Two steps forward, one swing of my ax, and voilà, a performance fit for a king!”

Graybeard put up one hand to stop Marroh and his staff to stop the king.

“Touch the elf and you shall feel the wrath of many others,” warned Graybeard. “Your captain knows.”

“He gave me your Grey Elves’ warning,” answered the king. “But there was no warning that I couldn’t throw him out of here.”

“That warning just came from me,” Graybeard said in return. “The elf stays so long as you choose to hear me out.”

“Then talk fast, wizard, for I have no patience for Gray Elves!”

The term “wizard” was a derogatory term used by the races to describe keepers other than their own. The keepers of other races owed loyalty only to those they served. To the other races, they were considered untrustworthy and earned nicknames accordingly, such as wizards or magicians. The names were not used with respect but with loathing and warning.

“To begin, the elf is a Green Elf and not a Gray,” explained Graybeard. “His kind has none of the quarrels with humans that you know. He comes from the west of the Mithril Mountains.”

“I have heard of them. Go on and state your business.”

“The drow are preparing for another attack upon the surface,” said Graybeard.

“We know,” said Grendel without hesitation.

“They are already at war with the dwarves.”

“We know that also,” added Grendel.

“Against the dwarves, the drow have allied the orcs and goblins. Their own personal armies, I fear they save for the surface invasion.”

“Again, that is known to us.”

“Then you know the enemy is at the gate,” concluded Graybeard.

“We have known that for hundreds of years,” the king said, “ever since the drow first invaded us. Where were your warnings, then?”

“I had no more knowledge of their plans then than you.”

“But it seems you do now?”

“They have since deserved watching,” stated Graybeard. “The source of the disappearance of the satyrs was only recently made known to us, although I had guessed as much.”

“And so now you come seeking an alliance with the Rim Riders?” guessed Grendel.

“That is my intent.”

“Then you must take me for a fool! When the drow invaded us, did you come to our aid? Where was your offered alliance, then? For you to come here now offering alliances tells me you know the drow plan to make war upon the elves and, as their keeper, you now seek an alliance to keep them from being destroyed!”

“I do not deny that I wish to keep them from being destroyed.”

“Well! At least you’re honest about it,” grumbled Grendel. “But you still take me for a fool! My captain tells me you made a gift of a keg of mead to my guards at Talmuth Bridge. He says you warned them it might go bad and that they should drink it all that very night!” Sᴇaʀch Thᴇ FɪndNovᴇl.nᴇt website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

“It seemed a just warning,” said Graybeard. “One must drink mead before it spoils and loses its flavor.”

“I am not so stupid and gullible as my captain!” stated Grendel. “You wanted them to drink it that night. You wanted them all drunk and asleep at their posts!”

Graybeard said nothing and merely waited for the king to finish.

Grendel took his silence as being a sign he was right and went on.

“That night as they slept, some foul monster crossed the bridge after you and now roams my land, poisoning cattle and destroying fences! What matter of beast or creature did you bring with you?”

“Whatever it is,” said Graybeard, “it does not take its orders from me. I am a keeper of elves and not a keeper of the Fell.”

“It is a creature of the Fell?”

“It is. I can feel its black blood and dark intent. I am somehow connected to it.”

“Are you saying it’s Lolth?” the king asked in alarm.

“That could be. For we are connected. Whatever it is though, if you wish to claim it is an elf, the fool is you! The creature that follows us is after the goat boy here.”

The boy’s head turned to hear him say that. He had said that several times now before. Why didn't he ask anyone to stop it?

Grendel still eyed him with purposeful suspicion. “You still deliberately brought that thing here with you!”

“I didn’t bring it,” said Graybeard, yet added. “It brought itself. But I can get rid of it.”

“Ah! Now the truth of the matter comes out!” declared Grendel. “For what price will you get rid of it?”

“For six horses,” said Graybeard. “I am sure it has cost you that many cattle already.”

Grendel’s eyes darkened like black coals.

“I suppose that does seem a small price to pay,” he said. “Perhaps too small—of what need have you for six horses, especially when you already have six horses?”

“My company and I are not thieves. We ride south against the drow.”

“What company?” asked Grendel. “You mean this one man and these four boys?”

“And one more,” added Graybeard.

“Seven against the forces of Lolth?” concluded the king with a doubtful and haughty smile that became a laugh. “What chance do you have?”

“None!” said Graybeard. “Not without your help.”

“Then you have no chance, as I will give you none!”

“Then your cattle will continue to fall and your cities will fall.”

“So be it. I will not bribe you to take away an evil you knowingly brought with you here. You are attempting to extort six horses out of me, and I will not give you even one!”

“It will not stop at cattle,” warned Graybeard. “It will not stop at anything. By the end of the week, you will beg me to take the six horses. Only then my price will be six hundred horses and—another week after that, the price will be six thousand horses.”

“You blackmailer!” stormed Grendel rising, his eyes darkening like black coals. “Guards!”

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