Fireclaws - Search for the Golden (12 page)

Ryliss

On the afternoon of the third day, we finally broke out of the scrub woods and rolling hills that had prevented us from moving much past a walk. We had run across an isolated farmstead where I spent some of my small number of gold coins in barter for two old sheepskin pads to keep the weight of our riders from making us too back-sore.

I also bought a couple pounds of coarsely-cured bacon and some salt. Kerrik’s spirits were quite buoyed by the sight and smell of the bacon, until I informed him it wasn’t for us. Several times during the trip, we had heard baying in the distance, and Naurakka was very busy keeping track of our pursuit. A couple times a day, I would call a halt and return to my Druid form and coax in some deer. After tying strips of bacon to a string, I would get them to do the donkey trick again. Rakka laughingly told me that this seemed to work nearly every time and would usually throw off pursuit for several hours, despite the human handlers’ attempts to keep the hounds on station. Apparently, these hellhounds were very food-oriented and easily distracted; good for us.

Still, I worried at the tenacity of the pursuit. As far as I know, they hadn’t gotten close enough to see us, so it seemed excessive that they would put so much effort into the chase. The thought that perhaps Verledn had a scrying crystal or that we were being shadowed by some sort of demonic presence crossed my mind. According to our map, we needed to ford a shallow river the next day and then enter a dark, forested area that nestled up to the foothills of the mountains that were our goal. From the map it appeared that there were several passes winding through the peaks that would lead us to safety.

Andea, true to her story, was very good with horses and was light enough that Daphne scarcely knew she was on her back. The pooka, unlike a real horse that I was mimicking, could still talk in her equine form. The two of them and Kerrik were able to hold a discussion on the trail while I could only plod along mutely. I couldn’t even communicate with the pooka like I could with another horse, because she wasn’t really a horse.

My thoughts drifted to Somnus and Kaima, and I wondered if I could communicate with them as a horse. They certainly weren’t natural horses, but Lin and Jules talked to them all the time, except when Somnus was being an ass. I would have to try it the next time I was home. Home, the word and thought sounded strange, but in the short five years I had lived there, I had connected with the place and people far more than I ever had in any of the dark elf settlements I had lived in or visited. It surprised me that I missed it as much as I did.

Currently, Kerrik was telling stories of his travels with the army and the places he had seen. He seemed to be careful never to actually talk about the fighting, just the day-to-day life of a soldier, which actually sounded pretty dull.

“So, Kerrik, were there any beautiful wizard girls in the army? Any as pretty as me?” Daffi asked coquettishly, with a flick of her glossy black tail.

“Well, that’s hard to say, Daphne. Except for our four-person squad, we didn’t get to associate often with other wizards. Most of the women took pains to dress and look as much like an ordinary dirt-digging trooper as possible anyway. All of us did.

“Why? Don’t wizards run around in fancy robes and wave magic wands?”

“Umm…no…not the ones who wanted to live, anyway,” he said abruptly.

“I don’t understand.”

Kerrik grimaced, clearly uncomfortable with the thought. “Wizards are high-value targets in any battle, and extremely vulnerable targets at that. Most people only remember the Lifebane’s armies of zombies, skeletons, and ghouls. But he had another group, at least early on in the war, which was feared much more, especially if you were a wizard; the dark elves.”

Crap! I didn’t like where this conversation was going.

Kerrik continued, “We learned early on to keep our spell casting to an absolute minimum, dress like common soldiers, and not become too attached to our fellow wizards. The bastards would watch us from the tree lines and wait. You could be three hundred yards from the nearest clump of shrubs and still get an arrow between your ribs if they even got a clue you were a wizard; no one was safe. Some of our officers understood and helped keep us hidden, but others were jackasses and ordered us up to the front lines to openly cast spells on command. Those wizards were the first to die in every battle. I lost a lot of friends that way; finally, I just didn’t make friends anymore…” He paused, lost in thought. A few minutes later, he continued, “About the only good thing about the dark elves was that they had terrible leadership. They were deadly as snipers, but every so often they would stupidly bunch up and attempt a full frontal attack along with the zombies and skeletons. I almost felt sorry for them, they were uncanny bowmen, but as lightly armored as they were, they didn’t have any business in the front ranks mixing it up with heavy footmen. When they did attack that way, we went out of our way to cut them down like wheat. Let’s just say there were no wounded left behind either, but to be honest, no one shed any tears for the dark elves, not after what they did to us.”

By this time, I was head down and nearly stumbling with grief at the waste and stupidity in Kerrik’s story.

Andea shifted uneasily on Daffi’s back, perhaps more sensitive to the emotions that were shifting around our party like leaves in the fall winds. “I heard a storyteller in one of the port towns I visited with Jedaro’s caravan say that the dark elves changed sides in the end and fought against the Lifebane.”

Kerrik growled, “I suppose that’s possible, I don’t think I saw a single one the last six months of the war. They probably sensed which way the tides were turning and jumped ship on the Lich to be on the winning side. Still, it wouldn’t piss me off if I never saw another dark elf as long as I live!” After that, he lapsed back into silence and failed to respond to any other questions by the girls.

I was grateful I was in horse form and had no tears to show how I was feeling; life could be a bitter, unfair draught at times. It looked like my new found friendship with Kerrik and probably even Andi was doomed as soon as they found out what I really was. Part of me just wanted to run away, back to Sky Raven, where acceptance wasn’t such a scarce commodity. I sulked for an hour or so until my hooves started on the down slope to the shallow stream that I had seen on the map. Just on the other side was a deep, forested area which the map showed extended twenty miles or more, abutting the foothills which guarded the mountain passes ahead of us.

Taking the lead, I led Daffi upstream a few hundred yards through the shallow stream in order to confuse our trackers. Finally, we exited on a rock shelf that flattened out and extended into the shady, mixed birch and hardwood forest before us. The low underbrush of grasses and ferns was surprisingly cool and level under our feet. This forest reminded me of the forests I grew up in, perhaps too much so. We had only traversed a couple hundred yards in, following a game trail, when I pulled up short and stared transfixed at one of the trees before me.

There, clearly carved into the side of a beech that leaned slightly into the trail was a bird figure, probably a raven. I snorted and backed up three steps, which was our agreed-upon signal for Kerrik to dismount. He did so, and I forced the change into my two-legged form. I used to go hide in the bush to do so, but we had been traveling together long enough that I no longer bothered. If Kerrik saw a flash of skin here and there, it no longer mattered. I was confident that anything he did see would be hidden by Rosa’s scarf enchantment which would still show me to be an ordinary human girl.

“Why are we stopping?” Kerrik whispered, looking around nervously, taking his cue from my body language.

I pointed at the tree, keeping my voice low as well. “That is called a yprell marker, these are elf woods and we are intruders. We need to turn around…”

“Not a good idea, my Mother.”
I heard Naurakka’s voice in my head, signifying she was close.
“The hounds and their handlers have just now reached the river where you went in. It will not take them long to find your exit spot.”

“So close? But I heard nothing.”

“They are getting smarter and have started muzzling the filthy little beasts. They are close by…”

I looked at my companions. “It appears we cannot turn back, the trackers are close on our trail. We will just have to press on and hope we do not attract any attention.” The two humans and the pooka nodded grimly. “I think we should continue on foot, the trail is getting too close for horse traffic anyway.”

“I can still carry Andi in my goat form, Mistress; it’s a lot smaller.”

I nodded. “Make it so, Daphne. Now we need to hurry on, there’s almost no chance that the elves won’t already know of our presence. We can only hope they will not consider us a threat and that they will regard Verledn’s men and hounds as one.”

Quickly, I led the way, cutting silently through the trees like I had been taught as a young child. Kerrik, of course, being human, was as noisy as a bull, with Daffi much less so. The dark overhang of branches gave everything at ground level a twilight appearance, and it was nearly impossible to navigate using the sun. But the mosses and some of the other native plants told me the direction we headed as surely as a native guide. It was getting to be late in the afternoon, and judging our progress left me with the inevitable conclusion that there was no way we would make it all the way through these woods before dark. In fact, I doubted if we were even more than half way at this point.

I sighed, thinking ahead. That meant a cold camp at best and, hopefully, it wouldn’t rain tonight. Maybe I could find a laurel tree and the pooka and Andi could spend the night inside and warm. I had let my musing distract me slightly and felt an insistent tapping on my shoulder from Kerrik behind me. Looking up, I froze.

There was a male green elf in light armor holding a long sword blocking our path. White-haired, with eyes like watered-down ice, his face was impassive, neither friendly nor unfriendly. Swiveling my gaze a little, I now noticed at least a dozen bowmen set back slightly in the trees, targeting our party. I slowly raised my hands revealing that I held no weapons and set my gaze firmly on the ground. I spoke in common. “We offer our apologies for intruding on your peace. As you can see, we are unarmed and offer no threat to you or your forest. We merely fled here to escape the evil pursuing us, and we will gladly leave your lands by the quickest route possible if shown the way.”

The warrior in front of us sheathed his weapon and strode toward us in seasoned confidence. Passing on my left side, he silently gave each of us the once over. Finally, he had circled all the way around our small party and stopped again in front of me.

“And you are the leader of this…troupe?” he questioned in a rusty common dialog.

I nodded. “I am escorting this wizard, Kerrik Beratin, and his sister, Andea Beratin, on this journey. My name is Ryliss Tancreek.” He glanced over at the wind wizard, taking his measure, and then spent a short time observing Andea as she fidgeted on the back of her black goat steed. Finally, he drew himself up facing Kerrik.

“Wizard Beratin, it is not often we are able to host wizards to our humble forest. I would appreciate it if you and your party would accompany me to our village. I’m sure our chieftain and elders would love to meet you and your companions.”

Kerrik looked at me and then back at the elf warrior. “We are traveling under somewhat of a time constraint and the brigands trailing us have already forced us far out of our desired travel path. We would normally be happy to accommodate your request, but…”

“Good, it’s settled then,” the leader interrupted. “You will keep your hands where they can be seen at all times and follow me. Do not deviate from the path, there are dangerous wild beasts that roam these woods and I cannot guarantee your safety if you do not follow my instructions implicitly.” He raised his voice and spoke to his archers changing to a regional dialect of elvish that I was still able to pick up fairly well. “We take them back to the village. If they so much as twitch, slay them, even the goat.” Turning, he marched forward along the path we were originally following, and we had no choice but to comply.

My mind was working furiously, trying to figure out some form of plan as we walked. Kerrik was apparently trying the same as he attempted to whisper to me several times, only to be hushed by a prod in the back or a glare back over the shoulder of the elf leading the way. My best guess was that we would be questioned thoroughly by their chief and probably let go. Green elves, in general, had no reason to harass human wizards and generally afforded them at least nominal courtesy. My own status was in serious question, however. There has never been any love lost between dark elves and green and I could only hope that Rosa’s scarf enchantment would hold up under their scrutiny.

An hour’s trek, crossing several game trails and other paths through increasingly dense woods, brought us to a large clearing. The ground was worn down to flat stones by the feet of countless generations of green elves. At the far end of the field, a massive wooden structure squatted, shaped not unlike a spruce tree. Wide at the bottom and tapering all the way up to a sharp point at the very top, probably sixty feet in the air, the sides seemed to be made of hand-carved vertical planks layered all the way up. The occasional window was arranged between what I assumed were floors within. At the very bottom, in the middle, were two very large ornately-designed wooden and iron-bound doors. In front of the doors, the ground dipped into a huge smooth bowl-shaped depression, rising up to a tall grassy knoll on the other side of the clearing. It appeared the purpose of the mound was to host large, ritualized bonfires judging from the scorched area at its peak.