by RG Long
Whatever it was that he had planned to say was drowned out by two very distinct sounds that filled the air. The call of a trumpet and the howl of a Wrent. Her horse reared and whinnied, but she managed to keep it under control. Serinde looked left and right. The path they were taking was narrow and came from the slow steady decline of the cliffs. They hadn’t seen a soul since they descended from that trail. She still couldn’t see anyone either.
In the distance, Serinde began to hear the sounds of battle. Barks and howls of Wrents mixed with the shouts and calls of some company or group engaging the beasts.
“What’s that?” Erilas asked.
“Wrents,” Omioor said simply.
“What?” Serinde asked. “What’s a Wrent?”
“Creatures that look like foxes but walk on their hind legs and wield crude spears and swords. They normally hunt in packs, but further north. I haven’t heard them in ages.”
The sounds grew in volume and intensity.
“What do we do?” Serinde asked Omioor.
“Go back up the path a bit?” Erilas suggested.
“No,” Omioor said, looking in the direction of the sounds. “If those are Enoth elves up there, we’ll need to get around them. And this battle might be the best chance we’ve got. If it’s those other elves, the ones who protect the woods, we might help them if things don’t look too grim and get some advice.”
He spurred his horse forward.
“Let’s get a closer look,” he said. “But, be ready to fly out of here if I give the command. Straight along this path. It’s wooded but should be fine for our horses to make good time on.”
“And if our way is blocked?” Erilas asked.
Omioor turned back to look at her.
“Back to the cliffs.”
Serinde urged her horse forward. She could tell the beast was nervous. It was the same emotion that ran through her. Other elves she had fought before. Wrents were a new thing entirely to her and the thought of the beasts gave her the chills.
“Draw your weapons,” Omioor ordered. Serinde didn’t need telling twice. She unsheathed the sword she had been given and held it tightly in her grip. Behind her, Erilas had drawn her dagger. Serinde rolled her eyes when she thought about how much good a dagger would do her when mounted, but let it go. Her sister had barely touched a weapon since they had begun this journey. This, at least, was progress.
The sound was getting closer and off to their right. Shouting, howling, and the clash of weapon against weapon.
“Drive through,” Omioor said. “We have no part to play in this. Our task is to find the emperor. Ride!”
With that, he spurred his horse forward in a gallop. Serinde and the others did likewise. They broke into the full canopy of the forest at a run and were soon able to see the battle that was going on off to their right. It looked like elves fighting in a big swirl of felled trees and timbers as well as Wrents thrown into the mix.
Purple uniformed Enoth soldiers holding swords were sparring with ragged looking elves who wielded axes. The Wrents were fighting anyone who was close enough to bite.
Serinde shuddered as she saw a Wrent bite into the neck of an elf. She saw the elf let out a gurgled scream and then fall dead. The Wrent howled with victory, but was cut down by an elf with an axe. The scene was gruesome to behold, but they kept riding. Then, cutting in between Serinde and the two horses in front was a group of Wrents. Four of five of the beasts padded onto the path, with spears in their paws and teeth bared at the riders.
The horse reared up and Serinde fumbled for the reigns. She missed the straps, trying to maintain a grip on her sword, and fell from her saddle. Her horse turned and ran back towards Erilas and Serinde attempted to get to her feet. Before she could manage it, a Wrent was on top of her, spear in hand and a red gleam in his eyes.
Had he been given a moment longer, Serinde was sure he would have speared her in the gut and gone for Erilas next. But the beast’s head was knocked from his body with a great axe. A strong looking elf had stepped out of the forest and come to attack the Wrents. Two other elves were with him, both wielding axes of some sort and looking grim and determined.
The Wrents who had been set on Serinde’s blood now fought to keep from spilling their own. Serinde scrambled up to try to help. She swung wildly with her sword, hoping to hit a Wrent and not an elf. She almost got it right.
“Ah! I’m on your side!” howled one of the elves, holding his scratched arm. He would have shouted at her more, Serinde felt, if he had not still been trying to fight off the Wrent at his side who was now barking madly at the loss of his right paw. The noise drowned out Serinde’s bitter reply.
His friend came to his aid and ensured the beast would never bark again, then looked to Serinde with a glare.
“You’re not from the camps,” he said.
“What?”
“You’re not one of the slaves cutting down trees.”
Serinde looked around. The Wrents were still swept up in a battle between the two groups of elves and it all made sense to her at once.
“I need my horse,” she replied. “But we’re heading down this path as quick as we can.”
“Seri,” her sister called. Serinde looked around to see Erilas leading her horse by the reins while still maintaining control of her own. “We need to go.”
She leapt up onto her horse and looked down at the three elves with pity.
“I was where you stand several months ago,” she said. “A slave. Don’t give up.”
With that, a mighty crash rang out behind them and a horde of twenty Wrents or more came barreling down the path and away from an ancient tree as it fell.
Unbidden by her, one of the elves jumped onto the horse as well and sat behind her.
“Get going!” he yelled.
“Hyah!” Serinde said as he spurred her horse forward. She knew at once they were in trouble. A horse could gallop for a long while with only one. Now there were two on the sprinter and he couldn’t run as fast. The Wrents were catching up.
Serinde looked over her shoulder to see that Erilas also had one of the elves riding behind her. The third she didn’t see.
They raced as quickly as they could through the trees and down the path. Serinde had no idea how far ahead Omioor was. She didn’t want to think about him being so far ahead that they couldn’t catch up. Especially with these two new, uninvited additions. They may be slaves freed from Enoth, but that didn’t mean Serinde wanted them near them. Or touching her, like this current elf was doing.
She hadn’t had time to really study his face, but she saw that he was young and brown haired. The elf on Erilas’ horse was bald and just as young, perhaps a bit older. The trees sped past them, but the Wrents were catching up.
“We need to get these Wrents away from us!” the elf sitting on her horse yelled at her.
“I would love an idea or two,” Serinde said with bitterness in her voice. She bet had she not been so encumbered that she could have overridden these beasts, though she didn’t actually know how fast they ran.
“Just up this path is a river,” the elf said. “We should go through fine, but the Wrents aren’t great swimmers and the current will be too fast for them to catch up.”
“Seri!” Erilas yelled and Serinde looked around. The elf on the back of her horse had two axes in his hands and was beating off the Wrents as best he could, but the beasts kept at them. The elf needed two more hands and two more axes to keep the Wrents at bay and Erilas was driving their horse as fast as she dared.
“Just around the bend!” Serinde shouted. And, sure enough, they turned a corner and saw a river. Its waters must have started up in the cliffs from some spring and were flowing down to the interior sea. Serinde drove her horse into the current and her breath was nearly taken from her as the cold water rushed up past her feet and splashed her face.
Just as her rider had predicted, the horses with their added weight had no trouble crossing the water, but the Wrents were
getting dragged away by the current. Erilas swiped at the last one clinging onto their horse with her dagger and Serinde heard a satisfying yelp as it let go and was washed away.
Moments later, both horses with all four riders came up onto the other bank. Soaked, but otherwise unhurt.
“You know,” came a voice as soon as they got out of sight of the river and down the path a bit further. “You could have taken the bridge that was up stream a little way.”
Omioor and his son sat on their horses looking at the four of them. Omioor had a smug expression on his face, but the son looked grave.
“We had better put some distance between us and this mess,’ Omioor said. “Before the Enoth elves realize they have some slaves missing.”
19: The Evils of Enoth
The sounds of battle had long since died away, but the four horses and their six riders still rode at a quick pace. Omioor refused to have them halt their march until their mounts seemed like they might faint from exhaustion. Even the strongest of beasts need rest.
“Alright,” he said after the fourth time Serinde mentioned how sweaty her horse was getting and how low he hung his head, despite the obvious annoyance in his voice. “We’ll stop.”
His horse and his son’s both seemed ready to keep going, but the extra riders were too much for the other two. They rode a awhile off the main path and into a clearing that Omioor saw and suggested they use to rest. Serinde’s horse stopped and laid down immediately, giving several complaining huffs as he did so.
“Sorry,” she said in his ear as she rubbed his long forehead. “But you really helped save us back there.”
Her horse snorted, then closed his eyes in rest. The elf who was with her also patted the horse in appreciation before standing up straight. He found himself staring down the edge of a sword. Erilas gasped as she dismounted and Omioor shoved her aside to stick a dagger to the chest of the elf who hopped off behind her.
“Drop the weapons,” he said.
Both elves obeyed without objection, though Serinde saw the one next to her look regretful at being without a blade while another was pointed at his heart.
“So, tell me,” Omioor said, the usual laughter gone from his eyes, replaced with a grim side Serinde had not yet seen. His son, however, had the same penetrating gaze from under his cap and hood that he always had. “What are your names and your purpose?”
The elves exchanged looks. The one by Serinde received a little prod with the sword pressed to him. A small gasp preceded his answer as he found the voice he had lost momentarily.
“Dairn,” he said with wavering voice. “That’s my friend Jassa. We’re from Tawic.”
“Awfully far from home, aren’t you?” Omioor said, pressing his own knife onto the chest of Jassa, the bald elf.
“We didn’t want to come here,” he said. “We’re forced labor. Slaves if you need the right word for it. Enoth calls it volunteering for the sake of the empire.”
He spat.
“Like we want to cut down trees until our hands bleed and we drop dead from lack of food or from plain exhaustion.”
There was a moment of silence where Omioor kept his gaze on the eyes of the elf. Serinde guessed he was trying to discern the truth just from the look of the elf. If she were allowed a vote in the matter, which she assumed for some reason that her opinion wouldn’t have changed this new, harder version of the old elf, she would say that he wasn’t lying.
Omioor must have come to the same conclusion. He took his knife away from Jassa’s chest, but still eyed the elf warily.
“That’s enough to keep you alive for the next few moments,” he said. “But I’m not done with you yet. Sit down here with me and answer my questions. If you pass, you’ll go free from this spot in whatever direction you deem wise.”
“And if we don’t answer to your liking?” Dairn asked.
Omioor gave him a grim smile.
“This is not a bad place to be buried, is it?”
FOR THREE HOURS, OMIOOR questioned Jassa and Dairn about their origins, their work as slaves for the empire, any news they had of the army of Enoth, and the comings and goings of their masters in the woods.
Finally, he came to the question Serinde was most curious about, other than their home in Tawic and their families that they left there.
“What happened today?” he asked before leaning back against one of the trees that surrounded their clearing. He popped a piece of dried meat into his mouth and began to chew in earnest, obviously expecting an answer worth eating through.
Dairn sighed and looked down at his hands, which were dirty and calloused. Jassa closed his eyes and began to explain.
“It had been weeks of torture,” he said. “More than usual at least. Word came that the army wasn’t doing as well as they had hoped. So, they began to take some of us away to be soldiers in the empire. We were told that if we wielded spear or sword for Enoth that we could earn our freedom and live in luxury in Pahyrst.”
He spat.
“Like we’d do it, even if we did believe that they’d give us our freedom,” he said.
Dairn took a deep breath.
“Many of us knew they’d take all the younger and more able-bodied elves away to the fighting if they got a chance. So, we passed messages all along the work camp. It was time to rebel and take fate into our own hands. At sunrise, we turned our axes on those who had worked us to our bones. Their numbers were reduced as well. Many of them had been recruited for the war. But then the Wrents came and it was all lost.”
He shook his head and Jassa picked up the story.
“They poured through the forest, killing any elf they saw. It didn’t matter to them. They just wanted to spill our blood, whether slave or no. Things weren’t going well for either side when we stumbled into you on the path. So, we took fate into our hands, as I said, and decided to flee.”
Serinde worked up her courage to ask something that had been on her mind.
“There were three of you when we ran into the Wrents,” she said. “Who was the third?”
Dairn shrugged.
“Just another nameless slave who didn’t matter to the empire unless he could work. I never knew his name and met him just today. We fought the foremasters together for a while, then we all stumbled into you.”
Jassa nodded.
“I’ll never be able to thank him for helping us,” he said. “He should have been thanked.”
Omioor sat up and swallowed his bite. He wore a look of satisfaction.
“You can thank him by helping us,” he said.
“Help you?” Dairn asked. “We’ve told you all about ourselves hoping you won’t kill us, but you haven’t said a word about who you are, or what you’re doing in the forest.”
“That’s about to change,” Omioor replied. “We’re with the rebellion against Enoth. That something you’re interested in?”
Jassa’s head shot up as he looked at Omioor with a look of amazement. Dairn’s eyes went wide.
“Are you serious?” he asked. “You all have a death wish!”
HOURS LATER, THEY WERE back on the road and much further along the path than the clearing they had stopped at. Omioor had allowed them just a few moments after he had finished questioning Jassa and Dairn before encouraging them to get back on their horses to get further down the path.
The only question he had left to ask was to the pair of them.
“Where are you planning to go?”
Dairn’s expression was one of disbelief.
“As far away from anyone from Enoth as I can get!”
Jassa had only nodded, but looked just as determined. And so, they rode with them. They had switched horses with Omioor and his son, so that the ones who had recently carried two now only had one to bear. Serinde could sense they were pleased with this decision.
She, on the other hand, was less willing to have Dairn ride behind her than she had been when they had fled from the camp.
“I find it hard to believe
that you don’t want to fight back against the empire,” she said after they had ridden in near silence for hours, always looking behind them and around the woods as well. Not only were they watching for imperial elves, the howling of Wrents cut through the air every so often.
Dairn scoffed, keeping his voice down.
“I can’t believe you're insane enough to try,” he said. “You must not have seen the armies they’ve gathered and marched north. It’s an unbeatable force, tens of thousands of elves strong. They’re going to take over the whole continent. I’m getting on the first ship out of here. I’ll work until my hands bleed if I have to.”
It was Serinde’s turn to laugh, though she admired his willingness to work. He certainly had the muscles that spoke of hard labors.
“I’ve seen both armies and the hard work of the empire,” Serinde said. “But, instead of running from it, I decided to fight. I wanted to do something worthwhile.”
“Like get yourself killed taking out a couple guards or soldiers? No thanks,” Dairn said, shaking his head behind her. She was giving him a look that she hoped told him that he was dealing with no mere young female.
“Oh, maybe I’ve just helped take down two cities in the name of the rebellion and killed more Enoth soldiers than you can count on your hands. Perhaps if you included your toes...”
“Seri,” Erilas said from behind them. Serinde cringed and turned around. Obviously, she had let her voice get too loud and her sister didn’t like her talking about killing others. But Serinde was proud of the work she had accomplished. She had managed to help the rebellion overthrow two cities. Well, technically one but she was willing to help with the second that was already rebel controlled. But Dairn didn’t need to know that. He already had given her a look that told her he didn’t believe her in the slightest.
It didn’t matter.
She was the rebel and he was the coward.
“How could you see the terrible things the empire does and just want to run away instead of fix it?” she asked as she looked forward at Omioor and the ever-stretching forest path.
