The Tri-Elementia and the House of the Flying Geese

This story snagged me first place in my heat during round one of the NYC Midnight Short Story contest. The deal was, we got a random genre and topic (fantasy and an ATM in my case) and we had exactly one week to write a 2500 word story about it. This is one of the few things I've written that I actually really, really like. Read it all the way through, trust me.







Their lair was undersized, almost too small to contain the three great warriors who took refuge there. But perhaps this diminutive domicile served as proof of their great humility. A dim light shone on the ceiling above them, illuminating the grave concern on their faces. No sound, save for steady breath, was made within the wood-lined walls. The air was heavy, thick with moisture and dread. Each sat alone on a cushioned seat around a low table covered with maps and battle plans. Tension began to grow, scraping against the men inside their meager space. Horag Maceroc of the Axe Clan spoke first.
“I cannot fathom how the gods would let us rot in this dire situation! By sun-high, the battle will have begun and, we the Patrions of the Tri-Land won’t be there to lead our people to victory. They may think we’ve abandoned them!”
Valian Luminos of the Firebrands, the most level-headed and calm of the three, was quick to respond.
“We know the circumstances which led us here, and we know the consequences Horag. We’d do well to spend less time blaming the gods and spend more time conceiving a plan to change our lot.”
Horag knew his old friend was right but his temper twisted within him.
“LUMINOS, IT WAS YOUR KIN THAT-“
“Enough Horag!” Dracon Cloudrunner slammed his fist down and quickly rose. “Valian is right, and none of the blame will be shouldered by him. Understand?”
Dracon was looked upon as the unnamed leader of the trio. The strength of his mind matched the strength of his sword. Horag turned his steely gaze downward.
“Yes Drac…my apologies to you both. I just can’t bear to think that of my people seeing me as a coward.”
“They will not Horag Maceroc. You have my word as a Wind Weaver, a Patrion and as a friend. Valian, among us you have the swiftest and keenest mind. You also possess an ability to quiet the storms of the heart. I need you to use that knowing mind and tranquil soul now and tell me something, anything we can do to get to the battlefield before it’s too late.”
Valian looked into Dracon’s eyes.
“Yes my brother, with no haste.”
Valian stood up and clasped his hands behind his back; his tall, slender body crouched slightly under the low ceiling. The small circuit he walked almost seemed choreographed but the sudden movements of his hands were chaotic, violent. With his eyes firmly shut, he cut at the air, snatching and discarding whisps of ideas. He stopped then spoke.
“Dracon, your mother the Queen, surely she could arrange for us to get on some sort of transport…”
Dracon sat and crossed his arms.
“No, I’m afraid not. She and my father the king are in faraway lands, spreading goodwill to their kin.”
Valian, unfazed, continued.
“Right, then it’s clear what we must do. We travel into town and find a mass transport to take us as close to Ricold Valley as we can get.”
“Travel into town? We’d have to be in full-armor!” Horag turned between Dracon and Valian. “The townspeople would ask questions, and they must never know of the ancient struggle that surrounds them! To that add that we need coinling to pay for transport and we have none!”
Dracon grabbed the armored shoulders of his compatriot.
“Easy Axe-Wielder, the townspeople will be susceptible to deception spells or your elaborate exaggerations. As for payment, I have coinling credit but we’d need to find a place for me to extract it. I suspect our Firebrand friend has already thought of that though. Am I correct Luminos?”
“You are right Wind Weaver. Now we must race to the House of Flying Geese and find the Autonomous-Trader Man.”

The three stalwart heroes packed a few rations, readied their armor and weapons, and climbed the stairwell out from their den, through the home that sat above it and went out into a day blazing with early morning light. Their pace quickened when their boots found the paved road. Valian Luminos was not bothered by this; his thin frame lent itself to his gait and moved swiftly without a loss of stamina. Horag Maceroc was a different case however; he was very large in all manner of regard. His elephantine structure made him formidable and feared in a fight but quite a hindrance during a quick jog. Draco Cloudrunner lived up to his name on bedrock as well as in the sky. He sprinted ahead of his two chums, able-bodied and confident. Though he feared they would be too late, he would not let their spirit die without a fighting chance.
“My brothers, please slow down. My axe is swift but my legs are not.” Horag choked after his words. Draco slowed and turned back to Valian and the heaving Horag.
“A quick rest Horag, but breathe fast and deep. I don’t need to tell you how little time we have left.”
“I do Drac. But I fear I’ll be little good to you in battle if I die before we get there.”
Valian peered cautiously ahead and behind them.
“Brothers, appear natural! A caravan approaches!”
The large transport passed them swiftly, only the children in the back turned to notice the men. Horag, with his breath returning, expressed concern.
“This is insanity; we cannot walk through the village like this without arousing concern. Surely we’ll be spotted and have to explain ourselves. If we are found out then our lot will be even worse than it is now.”
“No Horag.” Lumious countered, “Just because they are unable to understand doesn’t make us wrong. We chose this life and we will live it with honor.”
“Well said Valian. Come now, we have to press on.” Draco sprinted off again.

As the three began to get closer to the main concourse of the town, their garb appeared more bizarre. Their shining armor and weaponry was vastly different from the attire of the townspeople. Though the backwards glances and unsure looks increased, as of yet, no one approached. The sun grew higher as Horag slumped lower. Valian carried his friend’s satchel. Draco looked stern, intent on the Autonomous-Trader Man inside the House of Flying Geese and the coinling he’d receive to get he and his friends en route to a great victory.
“There!” Horag rasped. “Flying Geese, the house is ahead! Go my friend, go! Get me the blood of a red bull or a power ale!”
Draco saw it too; a small tanned home with a black roof, two proud geese painted flying on its front. He pulled ahead, his armor clanging loudly. He pushed open the double doors leading into the House’s main area. Inside were all manner of goods. Food, drink, colorful desserts for younglings, anything one may need they could find within these walls. Draco looked beyond tempting treats and past all of the concerned faces on the people inside. He needed to find the Autonomous-Trader Man.

“He’s been in there too long! Someone must be asking him too many questions!” Valian grabbed the large shoulders of Horag.
“Will you please relax Horag? Draco has only been in there mere moments and the Autonomous-Trader Man services many people.”
“My axe would get the coinling we need faster than Draco’s signature slip. In dire straights, you must take to survive.”
“Oh Horag…you know we’re above such nonsense. Just please focus on patience. Plus, such an act would surely call the attention of the Blue Shirts and that is a battle…we couldn’t…oh no.” Valian suddenly became speechless.
“What Valian? What is it?” Horag stood and followed his companion’s gaze. “Gods…no. Valian, tell me your gifted genius can tell us what to do.” Valian, for many moments, gave no response.
“I’m sorry my old friend, I have no plan. In the presence of evil as great as Todd Crestfall, my fear abolishes my sense.”

Meanwhile inside the House of Flying Geese, Draco stood in line. He was next and channeled his patience to keep from shoving everyone else aside. If they only knew the severity of his predicament, surely they would allow him to go first. Finally, the time had come. It was his chance to receive coinling! Under his breath, Draco whispered a prayer.
“Gods of Light, please let there be enough coinling left for me and my fellow Patrions so that we may reach Ricold Valley and fight with valor in your name.”
Draco Cloudrunner gave his signature slip to the small box that housed the Autonomous-Trader Man. The Man asked for his secret pass-sequence, Draco looked around and then willingly, quickly gave it.
“Error 1401. Contact Customer Service Repair.” For a second Draco stared, unsure of what the Autonomous-Trader Man was telling him. He removed his signature slip.
“This is no time for jokes or frivolous rules my friend. I need coinling and I need it now.” Draco reentered his signature slip and went through the Man’s process again, hopeful that this second time would go without incident.
“Error 1401. Contact Customer Service Repair.”
“What compels you to deride me like this Man!? You do not realize the starkness of the hour! There is very little time left, and you quibble with me over coinling as if I were some commoner!” Draco words sounded through the House, frightening and confusing the true commoners inside. A man dressed in the colors of the House, black, maroon, and yellow approached Draco cautiously.
“Young man…what seems to be the problem?” Draco sneered at him.
“Problem? What is the problem? That is the problem right there!” He drew and thrust his sword towards the Autonomous-Trader Man. The Geese’s service master approached him slowly and peered over at the Man.
“Ok, ok…that happens from time to time. Please, put that…sword away and try the other one at the other end of the aisle here. Ok?” Draco seemed calmed by the service master’s ways. He dropped his head, apologetically.
“I…I can only offer my humble concession. I am sorry. I had not realized there was another one in your home.”
“Its ok, lets just try that one out without making a scene alright?” The service master walked away, still keeping his eye trained on Draco. Draco walked down to the other Autonomous-Trader Man and waited behind another patron.

Outside Horag and Valian conspired on what to do about the approach of one of their greatest enemies. They huddled within the brush that surrounded the House.
“We hide like gutless noobs Valian! We are proud Patrions!”
“I don’t like it anymore than you do but we cannot engage Todd, a Letter Man here and now! There are more important matters this day!” Valian pulled branches back to better see there foe.
“Gods no! He has met Mara DiAngelus in the transport area!” Horag looked himself.
“It gets worse and worse with each passing moment. Draco will be worthless in battle with a broken heart.”
“Don’t underestimate our friend Horag. He is strong and he will lead us to victory.”
“Look at us. We hide as one of the most vile beings in our land approaches our friend whilst holding the hand of the woman our friend loves. We are scum, Valian. We don’t deserve a man like Draco Cloudrunner to lead us.” Valian looked into the eyes of Horag.
“We will not let our honor be tarnished by the likes of that Letter Man. Horag…lets go.”

Inside, Draco approached a different Autonomous-Trader Man, pleading with the gods to shine fortune on him. He went through the process yet again and before he could enter his secret pass-sequence, a man came up from behind him.
“Whoa buddy, Renaissance Fair in town?” Draco ignored him and entered his sequence.
“Buddy, I’m asking you…is there like a medieval festival or something going on? I saw a bunch of people like you at Ricold Park. I mean, with this get-up I figured-“
“Sir, I know not of which you speak. Please allow me to get my funds and…” Draco’s face dropped. He saw the face of his mortal nemesis staring at him, laughing in his face.
“Oh sweet Jesus, please Drake, please tell him the truth. Tell him you’re just a fucking nerd who dresses like that because he can’t get laid. Go on, tell him! You see sir; this faggot puts on all this Lord of the Rings bullshit and pretends. He pretends like he’s fucking six years old!”
Draco saw Mara approach, and he felt his heart disintegrate.
“Come on Todd, leave him alone.” Mara attempted to pull Todd away, he shrugged her off. The man who questioned Draco withdrew. Draco himself found himself welling up. Fear began to take hold of him. He was never able to defeat Todd Crestfall. He felt like running, he yearned to be back within his lair, safe and alone.
“I don’t have to leave anyone alone, least of all this little fuck. What are you gonna do dork? Hit me with a poison spell?”
“I think a swift kick to the jaw ought to do the trick.” With an unmatched speed, Valian Luminos crossed Todd’s face with his right foot.
“And a left hook wouldn’t hurt either.” Horag Maceroc clobbered Chrestfall into a rack of sweets.
“My brethren!” Draco beamed at the sight of his brothers.
“That’s it, you little bastards! I’m calling the cops!” the service master ran to a back room within the House.
“Come Draco, we must escape before the Blue Shirts arrive!” Draco ran past the body of his fallen enemy and his true love.
“Until later m’lady.”

The three ran from the House and towards the large transport they so desperately sought.
“There it is, my brothers! Our way to glory! Wait, Draco, we’re you able to get enough coinling!?” Horag prepared for the worst. Draco slowly raised his hand and showed the two enough funds for passage to and from Ricold Valley.
“To glory my friends.” Draco handed coinling to each.
“I fear, Draco, that even if we win today, a greater battle waits for us when we return. The Letter Men will seek reprisal.” Valian let the concern show on his face.“That will be another day my friend. That will be another day.”