Read Elf Lords: 02 - Last of the Elf Lords Online
Authors: Richard Saunders
The road led deeper into the woods as they fled. Eli occasionally peered behind to see if anyone was coming after them. He was confident that his fellow knights would succeed in stopping the brigands, but there was the risk that one or more of their ambushers may have slipped past and could be riding after them.
A dark shadow passed overhead. The horses momentarily faltered and Eli felt fear grip his stomach. Even the females, who had not noticed the shadow, panicked without knowing why.
What in the abyss was that?
Eli wondered as he looked skyward, but whatever it was, it was gone. He shook off the fear and spurred his horse onward.
The horses galloped along the hard packed road. All three riders had dismissed the momentary unease they had experienced. Then Eli spotted something up ahead as they reached a bend in the road. A solitary figure stood in the path, facing them.
“Out of the way!” Eli warned as the pair of horses charged toward the man.
Eli instinctively maneuvered his horse so that he and the animal were between the princess and the stranger up ahead. The man stood his ground, then raised his right hand and pointed at the oncoming knight. Eli spotted something bright appear in the hand of the man standing before him. That light leaped through the air, covering the distance between them in an instant. It struck Eli and his horse, causing the horse to rise up on its hind legs. An unseen force, obviously associated with the light, knocked Eli from his horse. He fell to the ground then felt his horse land hard on his legs as the beast dropped. Pain shot through his legs as the horse rolled away.
Linda screamed and Megan pulled on the reigns to stop the horse that they were riding. The princess jumped from the horse and ran to Eli’s aid.
“Get out of here!” Eli demanded. “Run into the woods and hide.” The knight gingerly arose, with Megan’s help. Both legs ached. Eli drew his sword and did his best to balance himself as he faced off against the stranger ahead.
“Is that an elf?” Megan wondered aloud.
Eli looked at the man who was now approaching slowly. “It cannot be
him
.” He said in disbelief.
“Who is it?” Megan asked.
“Landis, the half-elf.” The knight proclaimed.
Megan peered at the half-elf. “You must be wrong.”
“I was only a boy when I saw him, but his description matches what I remember, his eyes will give him away, once he is close enough to see them.”
“Lower your weapon.” The half-elf ordered, as he pulled his own sword from the sheath hanging at his side.
Eli stood his ground, “Surrender now, and I will spare your life.”
The half-elf chuckled. “Such bravery; coming from a dead man.”
“Princess, please run into the woods.” Eli whispered.
Megan heard the sound of horses riding hard, coming from behind them. “The rest of the knights are coming.” She spoke in elation.
The half-elf looked to the princess, “The riders you hear coming are my men. Your knights are dead.”
“He is lying.” Eli retorted.
“Look for yourself.” The half-elf insisted.
Eli did not have to look. The despair in Linda’s voice provided the distressing news. “It is the bandits!”
“I told you to run.” Eli commented.
Megan looked back at the arriving riders. “How did they defeat the knights?”
“
They
did not defeat the knights,” the half-elf answered, “I would suspect that they had help.”
One of the brigands spoke up. “Your dragon burned them to death, just as you said it would.”
“Dragon!” Megan spoke in alarm.
“That was what flew overhead.” Eli spoke in awe.
“Shall I put an arrow into him?” Someone said from behind.
“No,” the half-elf answered, “I will not risk you hitting my sister accidentally.”
“Sister?” Megan questioned.
The half-elf smiled, “Please excuse my rudeness, I am Trian, son of Landis, your true father.”
Eli staggered forward. “Stay behind me, princess. I will protect you.”
“Such loyalty.” Trian mocked. “Take the women, but be sure that no harm comes to my sister.”
Eli did his best to rush the half-elf. He could hear the footsteps of the men chasing after Megan, and dragging Linda down from the horse that she was still sitting upon. He swung his blade at Trian. The half-elf parried two blows from the knight, before knocking his opponent’s sword aside and running him through the neck. Eli gulped and his eyes went wide before falling dead at Trian’s feet.
Trian looked about, seeing that his men had captured both females. “Bind and gag Princess Megan and truss her up onto her horse.”
The princess struggled against the men, but was unable to stop them from tying her up and tossing her, face down on her belly, over the saddle and securing her into place. Two other men had hold of each of Linda’s arms, keeping her in place as Trian examined the horse that Eli had been riding.
“He is uninjured.” Trian assessed. He swung effortlessly into the saddle and rode over to take the reins of Megan’s horse before addressing the bandits. “Feel free to take the horses and whatever you find back at the carriage. That, and what I have already paid you, will be your reward.”
“What do we do with the girl?” One of the bandits asked.
“Whatever you desire,” the half-elf replied, “but make sure that she is alive when you finish with her. I want her to be able to tell the Queen
who
took her daughter.”
Megan wrestled to no avail, trying to break free of her bonds as the half-elf began riding, leading her away. Tears rolled down her cheeks as she listened to the wails of her friend as the men did whatever they pleased with her. Linda’s cries did not dissipate until long after the princess had been carried off far enough not to hear them anymore. Yet even then, they continued to echo in Megan’s ears.
Landis sat with his back to the wall of Hobgoblin’s Haven. It had been a long time since he had passed through Chio. There was nothing about this town that attracted him. Had it not been for a message from King Eric of Birhirm sending for him in a matter of extreme urgency, Landis would not be here now. The shortest route back to Birhirm required him to pass through this nefarious town. Due to the late hour of Landis’ arrival he decided to stay for the night. Landis’ last visit to Chio—nearly two decades earlier—had resulted in the deaths of a pair of would-be rapists and murderers within the town limits, and the additional deaths of a well-known, powerful family in the thieves’ guild following their departure. Still, Landis doubted that anyone here would remember him after eighteen years, especially with the despicable reputation for activities that occurred here on a regular basis.
As dangerous as Chio was, Landis thought it best to hold up here for the night than to continue on and cross the border into Alexonian territory, where he was something of a wanted man. Queen Petra, High Queen of the Westland, had revoked the decree seeking Landis for the supposed theft of the Sword of Alexon, but there might still be people who remembered the legend of his theft, or, more probably, the bounty that had originally been offered for his capture. Landis knew all too well that retractions often did not travel as far as accusations. In addition, he did have other enemies in the west, including some who had placed a price on his head for personal reasons. In a town like Chio one was never safe, but at least Landis knew what he was dealing with in this lawless place.
Landis was pleased that his long hair and dirty cloak hid not only his identity, but the fact that he was not a full human.
If only I could grow a beard,
he thought, not for the first time in his life. While Chio offered nearly every vice imaginable, it was also a place where non humans—including half-humans like him—were not welcomed with open arms.
Landis took another sip from what he was convinced was watered down ale, while remaining ever watchful of the crowd. A marginally talented lute player performed in the corner, entertaining the patrons with songs depicting licentious and wanton desires.
“Looking for some company?” A buxom, slightly heavyset woman with stringy brown hair, asked him. Landis smiled politely at the scantily clad prostitute, “Tempting offer,” he lied, “but I have other business to attend to first.”
The woman quickly moved on in search of someone who might be more interested in what she had to offer. As she walked away, Landis observed a man wearing a black cloak entering the tavern. The newcomer’s face was hidden by a heavy hood, but the way that he walked demonstrated agility and confidence. Landis could make out the bulge of at least one weapon hidden beneath his cloak. Instinct told him that this man could be dangerous. Landis remained nonchalant as his eyes followed the hooded man, as he walked over to the bar, never once looking Landis’ way.
A commotion at the entrance drew Landis’ attention away. Seven men, all wearing swords, bustled into the place. The way that they spread out and began looking throughout the crowd made it obvious that they were looking for someone.
“Damn.” Landis muttered as he reached across his waist to grasp the hilt of his sword. People scattered as the armed men moved about; all except for the hooded man who remained standing at the bar, now with his back to the counter. Landis mentally prepared to go after this man first when the fighting began. Then he observed something: the cloaked man’s right hand appeared between the folds of his garment. Landis saw fingers flashing a quick message in
Thieves Cant:
the secret hand signals used by thieves and assassins. Landis read the message and grinned.
“There he is!” A thick bearded man with a barrel chest declared as he pointed in Landis’ direction. “You’re going to fetch us a nice profit.” He said to Landis.
Landis stood; his hand on the pommel of his sword, ready to pull it out at a moment’s notice. “I believe that you have me confused with someone else. There is no bounty on my head.”
Anymore,
he silently added.
The bearded man—the obvious leader of the group—approached him. “You are Landis, the
half-elf.”
He accused.
“Never heard of him.” Landis lied.
The man chuckled, “Do not try to fool me. I saw you in Alexon, when Petra Sergius became queen. I remember you well.”
“It is a long way from Alexon to this piss hole. Perhaps your memory has failed you in your travels.”
“You do not carry the white bow, but your green and brown eyes give you away, half-elf.” The man continued, “Surrender; the price on your head is more if you are alive, but we will still make a profit even if you are dead.” He warned.
“Maybe one or two of you will earn a reward, but not all of you.” Landis answered.
The men drew their swords. Landis could see fear in the eyes of three of them, but the other four had the look of hardened killers; probably bounty hunters, as well as cutthroats, as the two often ran together.
The bearded man stepped closer, “You may be good, half-elf, but there are seven of us and one of you. And we have you cornered.”
“You know what they say about cornered animals,
gentlemen;
they are the most dangerous. And it comes as no surprise that scum such as you cannot count. I see two in my favor. Allow me to introduce you to my father; Jaylen, the former Swordmaster of Alexon.”
The hooded figure at the bar flung his arms apart, allowing the black cloak to fall to the floor. Jaylen—the legendary elf who had fought with King Alex Sergius, more than three centuries earlier—grinned at the men standing between him and his son. His twin short swords hung across his back, and two braces of throwing knives criss-crossed his chest. “Hello boys.” He said, before grabbing a pair of knives and throwing them with blinding speed and deadly accuracy at the two closest swordsmen. Both men gasped as the blades pierced their throats. They were dead before their bodies hit the floor.
“Get him!” The bearded man ordered as he rushed towards his half-elf prey. The patrons of Hobgoblin’s Haven dove for cover beneath their tables, or hugged the walls to escape the brawl. Landis had his sword drawn and ready to parry the bounty hunter’s blade. He struck the man’s sword twice before gaining a position to go on the offensive. Landis delivered a blow to the man’s midsection, narrowly missing a direct strike as his opponent shifted aside; but he did succeed in cutting into the man’s side. Before the other could react, Landis twisted his arm and swung the sword upwards, slicing through the man’s armpit, amputating his sword-arm in the process. Landis kicked him aside to move on to his next attacker.
Jaylen had drawn both of his short-swords. With one in each hand, the elder elf used his ambidextrous abilities to confront two bounty hunters at once. Watching Jaylen fight was like watching a master artist at work; except that Jaylen’s brushes were his swords, and his masterpieces were the bodies of the untold dead who had fallen before him on too many occasions to remember. Using the skills taught to him three centuries earlier by his Sabonine Warrior instructors—where Jaylen had long ago mastered
the Way of the Sword,
which had kept him alive and made him a legend in the Westland—the elf made dispatching the pair of fighters look easy before advancing on another.