Jack Stocker
I do a lot of stuff. Mainly though, I write.
Daric - Laughter
Author's note:
We've all tried to be a bit clever when we're drunk. I know I've had that feeling of hazy, utterly unjustifiable smugness before and despite my best efforts I'm sure Daric is, to an extent, a reflection of me. 'Laughter' was the first bit of serious world-building I did around the Elf, and if I ever find the intent to write a full novel, this would be at least a part of the rough direction I'd take it in.
Laughter.
So much laughter.
We were all going to die.
The laughter followed me as I wandered down the corridor, the world fading into black, and fading back again.
I slammed into something.
A door. It was a door. I groped for the handle. There wasn't one. The metal was white, and unforgiving.
Still the laughter.
I never learned much magic, but I knew a trick for dealing with doors like this. A Centaur had taught it to me, a long time ago. Elves were never much good at magic, but this was a relatively easy one. I laid my hand on the door. Palm flat, fingers spread.
The laughter rose in pitch.
We were all going to die.
I concentrated, and my hand glowed red. It hurt.
A high pitched giggling filled my ears.
A surge of power -
"ARGH, Christ."
A white light almost blinded me, and the iron door crumpled, blasted off its hinges into the room beyond. I shook my seared hand, the pain still fresh. The blackness started again, clouding the edges of my vision. The figures beyond the door seemed to jump out at me as my vision doubled.
We were all going to die.
"...Mr Daric?"
The blackness faded abruptly and my vision returned to normal. I was staring at a line of very surprised soldiers.
"Yes?"
A bespectacled Orc poked his head over the shoulder of the tallest one. He had a distinct Irish accent.
"Why are you laughing?"
I started into the room. Carefully, one foot in front of the other. The soldiers nervously parted to let me through. I tried to breathe.
"There's a very good reason for that, Mr Hraat."
I reached the table, and sat heavily in the nearest empty chair. The eight people around the table stared at me, and the soldiers reluctantly returned to their normal positions, two still covering the door. Hraat returned to his seat, also eyeing me carefully.
I looked round at them all.
The laughter slowed, and then it finally stopped.
"At the present moment, I am off my tits on drugs."
There was a pause. It was quite a long pause.
I coughed, but everyone else continued to pause.
Finally, Hraat spoke. He had the air of a man who was choosing his words very carefully.
"You realise, Mr Daric, that we are technically at war, and have been for the last two days. Where have you been?"
I looked him in the eye. Keeping my vision steady was quite an effort. I could lie to him. Or I could just tell him the truth, since I probably would sooner or later.
"To be quite honest, Mr Hraat, I have mostly been in the state you see me now, and sincerely trying to find someone to bone. Unfortunately, until a few hours ago, most of the ladies I met seemed quite reluctant to accept the imminent end of the world, and I judge that to be mostly the fault of you fuckmonkeys" - I pointed a finger accusingly round the table - "keeping it a national secret for the past forty-eight hours. But, as ever, eventually I beat the odds, and so I'm here now."
"You chose to go missing during perhaps the most crucial two days of a very precarious situation."
I shrugged. "I told you to leave the Elves alone. As ever, no one listened to me."
"For a consultant, your advice was less than coherent."
I stood, wobbling slightly. It wasn't as intimidating as I'd hoped, so I sat again. "I am not a consultant, Mr Hraat. And my advice was straightforward and uncomplicated. It simply lacked detail. I told you not to breach the Green Line. I told you they would take it very personally. If I remember rightly, I used the word 'invasion'. Not only did you choose to ignore my advice, you elected General Borr to oversee it."
"Borr is ideal. He has experience with Elves. He's been to Mirodi before." snapped a blonde Man across from Hraat.
The room blurred as I turned my head to face him. I tried to focus on his face, but my depth perception was off. "Yes, last time he visited, he gained his experience by killing forestloads of us." I drawled. "Think for a second. You sent an Orcan general renowned as an enemy of the Elves into the heart of their island, for the second time."
"So help us." urged another man. "You're the only one who can talk them out of this."
I raised my eyebrows. It felt funny, so I giggled a bit and did it again. Then I answered him. "No one can talk them down now."
"You said you were a peaceful species!"
"Elves are a peaceful species. But I also said under no circumstances go anywhere near the Green Line, remember that bit? It's the one bit of land they'll fight, and die, for."
"Religion." scowled Blondie.
I was tempted to kill the blonde Man. He was annoying me. If I'd been in a different mood, he may have died, but luckily for him I was still just too spaced to be doing any harm at the moment. I'd settle for a glare.
"Religion is everything to Elves." I explained, coolly. "You could have had any other piece of land in the world. There's no secret treasure or anything, if that's what you're hoping for. No mythical weapons, no Elven Kryptonite."
"It was unclaimed."
That made me do a double take. "Er, I'm sorry, I'm almost certain they claimed it."
"Never officially." said Blondie, smugly.
I frowned. "Living on it for thousands of years and building shrines there seemed to be official enough for most governments."
"But there's no paperwork."
"Most Elves don't like paperwork. Tends to make them stressed."
Blondie looked confused.
I looked at him meaningfully. "The trees."
He rolled his eyes.
Hraat decided to intervene. "We don't plan on occupying the entire island - just a corner of it."
Trees rolled in front of my vision. I almost reached out a hand to touch them. They giggled at me, uprooting and taking impossible steps backwards, their wooden mouths stretching.
"Daric."
"What?" I asked. The trees dissipated, still laughing. I flexed my fingers, staring at my hand. I wondered how much of this entire scenario was inside my head. Was anyone really here?
Hraat snapped his fingers at me, and I decided he was. My imagination couldn't produce such an accurate Irish accent. "I said we don't plan on occupying the entire island - only a corner of it."
"Why?" I asked. It was the only question I could think of.
He shrugged. "The situation in the States is getting worse. Mirodi is in a valuable strategic position."
I took out my pipe, and lit it. It wasn't nicotine.
"And you want to, what, build a military base on it?" I slurred.
"As I said, just a corner. It's close enough to the States to be convenient."
"Yes, and Parliament is closer to Buckingham Palace than my house, but that doesn't mean I'm going to annex them so I can pay her Maj a visit once in a while."
Blondie unwisely chose this moment to speak again. "Firstly, we're not annexing them. Secondly, I don't quite think the two scenarios are comparable."
"No? I've told you before, the Elves will see it as an invasion, and they're going to react accordingly. They don't like to boast about it, but they're tooled up to the eyeballs. It's why most people tend to leave them alone, something everyone but the British government has recognised. If you continue to fuck with them, you'll be six feet under before you can say 'damn, these hippies are violent'."
The dwarf next to Hraat cut in, tapping his fingers on the table. "If Elves have such military power, why haven't we seen any of it? Either before, or in the last few days?"
I puffed out a smoke-ring.
"I told you, it's a well-kept secret of theirs. As to why they've been quiet this week, they're mobilizing. They know they've got the time, and they're best on the defensive. They'll let you make the first move. Oh, and just so you know, despite what pop culture tells you, they're not going to be hitting you with sharp sticks."
There was a laugh from the other side of the table. A condescending one. I looked round.
It appeared to be emanating from a large, dark-red gorilla, something no one else seemed to be giving a second glance.
I considered this.
"Mr Hraat." I finally said, politely. "There appears to be a large, dark red gorilla that is laughing at me."
Hraat frowned, his face distorting. His mouth opened wider and wider, gaping open diagonally like that famous painting. He spoke in a voice that was somehow low and high at the same time.
"What are you smoking, Daric?"
I shook my head, and closed my eyes. After five seconds, I opened them again.
The room had regained some semblance of normality, though I was still quite giddy. I put my pipe away, glancing at the walls. They were still moving, and it made me feel sick to look at them, so I concentrated on the faces around the table instead.
I looked across the table again, but the lightbulb was gone, replaced by a burly Red Orc. That surprised me. You didn't see many Red Orcs, especially in Hundra. All the Red Orcs I've ever been acquainted with tended were friendly enough, if a bit gruff. Having said that, this one had laughed condescendingly at me, so I'd already decided that he was probably a cockhole. He moved round the table towards me.
"Mr Daric," said the dwarf, "meet General Borr."
"General." I smiled, as he moved closer. "I didn't realise. You were very quiet earlier."
"That's my usual strategy. I tend to find it's a good one, until I know what I'm up against." he hissed.
"I think you and I both know that's a massive fib, General. Mirodi has a fair few armed mother-"
You may be wondering why I didn't quite manage the last word. The reason, (a very good reason) is that a very large Orcan hand had suddenly clamped itself round my throat, rendering me mute and frankly, pretty offended.
"Why should we trust you?" Borr snapped.
His face was inches from mine. I imagined the chemicals rushing through my brain, and my fingers twitched. I was seized by a sudden and inexplicable urge to tap his nose with my forefinger. I resisted it.
Borr spoke again, more slowly this time. "How do we know you're not an undercover?"
"Because, General, I have been killing people for a quarter of my lifetime." I said, tapping him on the nose with my forefinger (fuck). "If I was still working for the Elves, everyone in this room would have been dead ten minutes ago."
"I don't like being threatened." he snarled.
"I'm not threatening you." I said. "I'm telling you what would have happened. Since it hasn't, there's really no need to worry, is there?"
"Borr." snapped Hraat. "Release him."
Borr grunted. "As you wish."
I felt a slight pang of deja-vu as the hand came away from my throat.
"We're sending you in, Daric." Hraat continued. "Go to Mirodi, and talk the Elves down."
"There's no point." I sighed. "They won't give up the Green Line. It's everything to them."
"See if you can make them a better offer."
I laughed. "I'm a naturalised city boy. They're not going to listen to me, regardless of my species. Hraat, if you don't start pulling your troops out today, every soldier on that island will be dead in the next week. They will screw you so hard, your mother will be walking funny in the morning. Do you understand me?"
I stood.
"Where are you going?"
"I make it lunch. I'm going to get a bacon sandwich. Then I'm going for a run. Maybe I'll kill someone. I'm on a bit of a rush now, really. Come get me in a few hours."
They started to chatter at me, but no one stood in my way as I walked towards the door. I'd wanted to slam it to make a statement, but I probably should have thought about that before I'd blasted it off its hinges on the way in.
"Daric." It was Hraat.
"Don't bother, Hraat." I said, without turning round. "Seven days, and they'll all be dead."
"You're wrong. We will wipe them out."
I turned, clapping a hand to my forehead. "God, Hraat, I feel so embarrassed. Do you ever have one of those moments when you realise everything you've said over the past hour is complete and utter bollocks?"
Hraat smiled. "Sometimes."
"Have you just had one now?"
By the time he'd thought of a response, I was already halfway down the corridor.
I knew they wouldn't back down. They wanted that land too much. They were going to annex Mirodi eventually, whatever rubbish they tried to feed me about keeping an eye on the States. Great Britain was at war. But what I'd told them about the Elves wasn't entirely true. They were more advanced than many of the races in this cosmopolitan country, but the British military massively outnumbered them. Although Mirodi would indeed win, it would be a pyrrhic victory. The casualties on both sides would be in the millions.
Virmia's face floated to the forefront of my mind, and I wondered how she'd have handled this situation.
I shook my head, and laughed.
We were all going to die.