Chapter 68: First Contact with the Elves
"Five hundred years ago, the conflict between humans and elves officially erupted. By four hundred years ago, humans had already gained an overwhelming advantage in the war against the elves, possessing nearly all the habitable lands."
"According to your theory of victory through speed of reproduction, wouldn't that progress be a little too fast for the elves, who originally owned the entire world?" Kolgrim stared at the young Dwarf, speaking deliberately:
"There was no drawn-out war lasting several generations. The victory was truly decided in just one. In a single generation, humans seized the strategic initiative in the war."
"After that, all humans did was repeatedly drive the elves out of their magnificent palaces and build their own crude wooden shacks on top of them."
Zoltan's tongue suddenly tied itself in knots: "But, but, how how is that possible? The elves…"
Kolgrim finished the Dwarf's sentence for him: "The elves held a crushing advantage over the humans of that time in terms of martial arts, equipment, and magical prowess. You were going to say that, weren't you?"
Zoltan nodded: "And, according to your timeline, if humans only just arrived in this world before starting the war, they shouldn't have had much advantage in manpower either."
Kolgrim sighed with emotion: "Indeed, during the time of the initial landings, the number of humans was vastly inferior to the elves. What truly led to the repeated, crushing defeats of the elves was themselves."
Kolgrim's words were like a stone tossed into a lake, instantly piquing everyone's interest.
"Defeated themselves? That sounds like a fable from the mouth of some philosopher." Dandelion leaned forward, keen on hearing more.
"I don't understand. War is war. While elves can be arrogant, they wouldn't possibly start fighting each other at such a critical moment, would they?" Zoltan frowned, unable to grasp it.
Arthur seemed to have picked up on a clue: "I guess Kolgrim isn't talking about the elves having a civil war. He means that at the time, the internal factional conflicts among the elves were far greater than the conflict they had with the humans?"
Kolgrim nodded in agreement: "Exactly. The elves occupied the whole world, but they were far from a unified front. Their societal structure was similar to the Dwarves, existing as units based on clans. So, not long after the war began, humans quickly realized that no matter how hard they fought the group of elves in front of them, the other elven clans nearby would pretend not to notice."
Good gods. So the elves also believed in 'when an ally is in distress, remain motionless as a mountain!'
Arthur massaged his forehead: "So that's how the elves lost the whole world?"
Kolgrim gave a disdainful laugh: "There were certainly other reasons, but I truly can't think of anything more fatal than that."
The cruel truth was difficult for the young Dwarf to accept. For the rest of the journey, he sat at the back of the wagon, lost in thought. Perhaps he was wondering how his ancestors, who were one of the oldest races in the world, were now reduced to squatting in the Mahakam mountains and mingling with rock trolls.
He dared not think about it. Truly, he dared not.
After traveling a little further, Kolgrim suddenly steered the caravan south, turning onto a broad, level road. This road was unlike any they had traveled before; it was wide enough for three wagons to drive abreast. The surface was paved with black basalt slabs, making it as smooth as a griddle used for making breakfast.
With the bone-jarring jolts of the previous days gone, everyone's spirits lifted.
"What a fine road this is!"
Dandelion marveled: "This road is truly well built. Why haven't we seen it anywhere else?"
Arthur was intrigued, too. To him, this road was comparable to the national highway outside his old home before it was ruined by heavy trucks.
"I know!" Zoltan excitedly jumped off the caravan, his bare feet tapping the road surface: "This road is called the Old Way. The elves and the Dwarves spent centuries building it."
"A truly magnificent work of engineering."
Arthur was about to add another word of praise, but he noticed a flash of light flickering in his peripheral vision. What could be reflecting light out here in the wilderness?
Before Arthur could figure it out, his [Alertness] skill activated. A rush of heat flowed from his spine into his limbs. He instinctively raised his hand, aiming toward the direction of the flash:
"Aard!"
Savage magical power erupted from his fingertips. A translucent shockwave roared forward, expanding outward. Before Zoltan could even react, he was slammed to the ground. A feathered arrow twisted in the shockwave like a strand of water-weed before finally snapping with a snap.
"Ambush! It's the elves!" Kolgrim yelled, drawing the longsword from his back while fiercely cracking the horsewhip in his hand. He had instantly recognized the arrow's head as being made of bone.
The whip cracked like a long snake whipping toward the back of the wagon, exploding with a sound that perfectly startled Dandelion. The poet let out a high-pitched shriek that rivaled any soprano and tumbled head-over-heels into the wagon's canopy.
"Quick, haul the Dwarf back! Don't let him stay out there those elven arrows are deadly accurate!"
"I know!" Arthur shouted back, his longsword flashing into a curtain of light that clanged as it deflected three incoming arrows.
Zoltan looked utterly pathetic, plastered tightly against the basalt road surface, which was scorching hot under the midday sun.
Arthur rushed to Zoltan's side in two steps, swatting away an incoming feathered arrow with his sword. He grabbed the fabric on the Dwarf's back and yanked him up. He recalled the motion of a shot-put athlete, using the momentum of the rotation to toss the Dwarf toward the caravan.
Just as the Dwarf landed with a thud inside the canopy, a ridiculous thought flashed through Arthur's mind: If not for that thick beard, would Zoltan's face have started to smell like barbecue on that road?
Having secured the Dwarf, Arthur confirmed the enemy's direction fifty meters away, up in the tree canopy, several figures were crouched, nocking arrows. This distance was beyond the range of his Battle Cry.
"Run! I'll cover your back!" Kolgrim shouted. Arthur turned and dashed toward the caravan.
A gust of wind blew from the forest toward the caravan, carrying the sound of the elves' mockery: "Another bunch of apes! Watch me send them to the heavens!"
Another volley of arrows arrived. In terms of sheer number, there were only four arrows in this attack. But in terms of result, the damage was comparable to a full rain of arrows:
The draft horses cried out almost simultaneously and collapsed instantly an arrow was lodged in the heart of each. The sweat beneath the horses' coats was instantly dried by the scorching road. They struggled in terror, howling, and then died.
Now Arthur knew: though the slab road was hot, it wasn't hot enough to char flesh and make it smell like barbecue.
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