Elfhunter

by C S Marks

  "Be wary, Gaelen, but be swift. I sense that if Elethorn is alive, he will not be so much longer. I’ll watch over you with Nelwyn, but if the creature appears, fall back and do not linger. I will take him if I can."

  Gaelen gave Rogond a look that told him she was not likely to fall back and that she would linger until the end, but she understood him. Just before she left cover, she turned to him and took his face in her hands, running her fingers curiously against the grain of his ever-present whiskers. Then she smiled and whispered: "Just be there when I need you, Aridan. That’s all I ask. I’ll try to leave something for you to do. Now, let’s fall into the trap!" She turned before he could see that this bravado did not extend to her mind or heart, and crept carefully toward Elethorn.

  Rogond and Nelwyn were both tensed and ready; Nelwyn’s bow was fitted, but not yet drawn, and Rogond gripped his sword-hilt with one hand and the shaft of his spear with the other. They jumped as a small but noisy tumble of rock came rolling down the hillside. All turned their attention to it for several minutes, straining to see what had set it off, but found no sign of the enemy. By this time Gaelen had nearly reached Elethorn, and she rejoiced as he stirred and moaned in his pain, his face haggard and drawn. So, he was alive! She paused, straining to hear all around her, but heard nothing but her own breathing and rapid heartbeat.

  Elethorn was unconscious as she approached him, but he roused himself as she gently took hold of one of his feet and squeezed it. His eyes opened, then focused on her and grew wide with fear. Speaking in a low voice, she reassured him as she quickly took in his condition. There was blood on the stone behind Elethorn’s legs; apparently the enemy had not felt confident enough to bind him without first crippling him. Otherwise he had no obvious deadly wound, though he had been bound to the stone without water or warmth for some time and had very little strength left. Gaelen drew one of her long knives, and as she cut him from the stone he fell into her arms.

  Lowering him gently to the ground, she replaced her blade, looking back over her shoulder as a sound from the tall spruce caught her attention. To her horror, she observed the slender body of her cousin Nelwyn as it fell, limp and lifeless, to catch in the branches of the tall tree. It was fortunate that she did not fall all the way to the ground. Gaelen cried out in alarm, leaping to her feet, but she would not be able to find out what had happened to Nelwyn just yet.

  Another sound distracted her and she turned, gasping as she beheld for the first time the shadowed figure that seemed to emerge as from the very stones, making straight for her. The next few seconds were a blur of motion and speed, as Gaelen drew her bow without thinking and loosed an arrow at the huge, dark enemy. It was easily deflected by his black armor, and she drew her curved blade, leaping back just in time as he was upon her, his sword ringing against hers with a force that was like a great tree that crashes to the ground during a storm. She knew then that she was outmatched, and that even the strength of one such as Rogond might not be enough.

  Gorgon had not been idle. For over two days he had been lying in wait, concealed by his grey cloak among the stones, taking only an occasional sip of water, sitting still and silent as though made of stone himself. His scent he had disguised with that of the two now- dead companions of Elethorn; this was a trick he had learned long ago and it had always served him well. He first noted the approach of those that tracked him in the late morning. Ha. It is as I had hoped… there are but three. And only two are Elven. The third, though he has the look of a warrior, is a mortal man. This will not prove too challenging. Then he had remembered the words of Gelmyr. Was this the pursuit of which the Elf had warned? Ha! Trust an overconfident dead Èolo to make a prophecy of two Wood-elves and one mortal man.

  Gorgon watched as Nelwyn, Gaelen, and Rogond took up their positions, and he quickly guessed their plan. The one in the tree was the lookout, and the man was there to back up the other, who had apparently been appointed rescuer. The first part of Gorgon’s plan was to quietly eliminate one of them from the fight. Moving as one in slow motion, he drew forth a weapon of which he was most proud, as it had proved its worth on countless occasions, and he had constructed it himself. It was a stout, Y-shaped creation of supple yew wood, highly polished and balanced, with a thong of leather strung between the branches. In the center of the thong was a concave piece of hard silver into which he placed a rounded piece of steel about the size of the end of his own index finger. It remained only for him to decide which of his enemies to strike first.

  Gorgon smiled as he beheld Nelwyn’s small bow; though she was undoubtedly skilled, her weapon would lack the power to penetrate his armor. He would have to be careful never to turn his face to her, as she might wound him sorely if she hit him in the eye, but he reckoned that was about the only way she could do much more than annoy him. Gorgon was not only well armored, his skin was as thick and tough as several layers of leather, and there was precious little of it exposed. He was positioned so that, if he wished, he could shoot any or all of his pursuers, but in the end he decided that, as the lookout, Nelwyn would be his first choice of target. Then he would not have to concern himself with her darts and could turn his eyes where he would.

  His plan was to incapacitate or kill Nelwyn with his marvelous weapon, and then to engage Gaelen and Rogond. He had already assessed his risk and found it acceptable. Rogond would probably put up a stimulating if brief struggle, and as for Gaelen, he would swat her as a fly, perhaps after toying with her first. He would keep her alive long enough to ensure that there were no others to trouble him, at least.

  He drew silently on Nelwyn, hoping that her sharp eyes would not detect the movement until he could get the shot off. He pulled back, straining against the tough yew wood, sighting in on Nelwyn’s forehead. At this distance, he would be satisfied with any head shot, as it would accomplish his purpose. Nelwyn tensed—had she heard something over the wind in the spruce boughs? Gorgon’s thick, black fingers released the weapon. The steel projectile hurtled straight to its target, and Nelwyn knew no more.

  Gorgon had then leaped to his feet and rushed toward Gaelen as she beheld Nelwyn with alarm. As he had guessed, she was quick to get off a shot at him, but his armor deflected her arrows even at close range. Sword drawn, he met her pathetic attempt at fending him off with about half the force he was capable of. There followed a violent but somewhat awkward bit of swordplay, during which Gorgon slashed so hard and fast at Gaelen that it was all she could do to leap out of the way. The few times that he made contact with her blade he nearly bore her to the ground with the power of his great arm.

  Rogond had also reacted with alarm when Nelwyn fell from her perch, but Gaelen’s cry of dismay had turned his attention back as Gorgon rounded on her. He leaped up and made toward the enemy, his heart sinking as he took notice of Gorgon’s size and power. Gaelen would be crushed quickly, even as the enemy toyed with her. As Rogond rushed toward them, he brandished his spear, which had always served him well; it was rare armor that it would not pierce. Gorgon was moving much too fast to risk hurling it, so Rogond sprang in front of him, striking at his enemy’s heart with all his strength.

  Regrettably, Gorgon’s armor was rare. It was made of a most unusual material—the carapace of a gigantic beetle that dwelled only in the deepest caverns beneath the great northern wastes. The beetles fed on large prey, including one another, and the really enormous ones were not only rare, but nearly impossible to kill. Wrothgar’s most skilled armorers had shaped the armor, which was relatively light yet harder than steel. Even so, its weight would have daunted any mortal man or bright Elf, though it meant nothing to Gorgon, who was so seldom without it that it seemed a part of his own skin. The best quality was the stealth it afforded—metal armor clanked and creaked and rattled with every movement, but this armor was utterly silent, allowing Gorgon to approach as quietly as if he wore none. The plain black surface was dented and pitted from many battles, despite the natural resilience of the carapace. Most weapons would s
imply bounce off.

  Rogond’s spear, though a worthy weapon, made little impact on it, but at least for the moment Gorgon had to pay careful attention, as he now faced two foes. Rogond was taken aback and struck again as hard as he could, ducking under a sweeping stroke of Gorgon’s broadsword. This time the spear point snapped against the black armor, to Rogond’s dismay. He cast aside the broken weapon and brandished his sword as Gaelen deflected a fresh attack. She had thrown both of her daggers, but Gorgon was incredibly quick and agile, and he had managed to evade them.

  Confident that he was more than a match for these two, Gorgon raised his heavy, polished shield. It was mirror-bright in contrast to the dull black of his armor. The man’s favored weapon was now useless, and he would soon fall. The Elf would present no difficulty, for though she was quick and apparently possessed of a certain amount of skill and stamina, Gorgon’s strength would wear her down. He drew himself up and brandished his long sword in the air, roaring like a beast and displaying his long, sharp teeth. Both of his adversaries froze, staring at him in horror. Then, he chuckled at them. He certainly was fearsome, wasn’t he?

  Rogond was first to recover, as he realized that Gorgon was toying with him. This enemy was no doubt quite intelligent, but he was twisted and malicious, and altogether evil. Rogond fought with all the skill he had been able to acquire in his short lifetime, but Gorgon more than matched him, even with Gaelen’s help.

  She had managed to place no fewer than three arrows in Gorgon’s flesh, a difficult task considering the speed with which the creature moved. Two had pierced his sword-arm at the inside elbow, but he had ripped them out quickly, as they had not gone deep.

  The one that now lodged under his left arm had been more troublesome; it had caused him to drop his shield, though he felt little pain as yet. It was time to put an end to this annoyance. Abruptly, Gorgon came alive before them with all his strength, roaring and slashing at Rogond until he was overwhelmed, finally striking him with such force that he was flung aside to land hard among the rocks, insensible.

  Gorgon paused as though catching his breath, though Gaelen could see that his strength was far from spent. They stared at one another for a moment, Gorgon now breathing easily, Gaelen still panting hard. She had never seen anything quite like him, and for a moment she forgot that he was a mortal enemy as she regarded him with fascinated revulsion. His pale eyes narrowed, and he bared his sharp, yellow teeth in a sort of sneering smile. He was only slightly taller than Rogond, but much more massive. His limbs were all corded muscle beneath his armor, and his weapons and bright shield gleamed. Though he brandished a broadsword that he had taken from Gelmyr, Turantil hung at his side, and as Gaelen beheld it, she snarled back at him.

  He noted this with satisfaction, and then he spoke to her in a voice that made her skin crawl: "Well met, Elf of the Darkmere. You are kin of he that owned this sword?"

  Gaelen put forth every effort to keep the tremor out of her voice. "Not kin, but friend. One who would see you dead at any rate!"

  Gorgon’s pale eyes narrowed. "We don’t always receive what we desire, She-elf. If that were so, neither you nor any of your accursed race would yet exist. Regrettably, I must wait for the fulfillment of my desires. As for yours, it will be a long time indeed ‘ere I perish at the hands of one such as you."

  Of this, Gaelen now had little doubt. Still, she gritted her teeth and faced him, trying to make herself appear to be as large and menacing as possible. "I know of your desires, Hateful Horror," she replied. "Gelmyr has told me of them."

  At the mention of Gelmyr, Gorgon’s eyes flickered and his lip curled just slightly. Gaelen sensed that he was uncomfortable with the mention of Gelmyr’s name. She glanced over at Rogond, who had not yet stirred, an action that did not go unnoticed.

  "Hoping for the Aridan to save you? I don’t blame you, Hapless One. That sword you carry is not your preferred weapon—you have the look of an archer to me, and I would say a fairly apt one, but your bow will not avail you here. Your mortal friend may not yet be dead, but he soon will be. He is no match for my strength. And as for Gelmyr, you are a liar. He was as dead as stone long before I left him and was not in a position to reveal anything of my desires, or aught else."

  Gaelen had caught her breath, and she tightened her grip on her sword-hilt. "I will not bandy words with such a friendless monstrosity. Come on then, and let us finish this! I know you have been toying with me. Taste of victory against me if you can, and may I at least prove to be troublesome."

  Without waiting for him to respond she flew at him, blade flashing in the now-bright sunlight of late morning, taking him off guard for just a moment. He still had not retrieved his shield, and she managed to inflict a rather deep wound across the back of his left hand, which bore no armor. It was a mistake, and he drove her back, enraged, all thoughts of toying with her forgotten. He slashed at her with such ferocity that she knew her time had come. She could not stand against this—she found herself thinking of Nelwyn and, oddly, of Rogond. Her strength spent, she tripped and fell backward before the feet of her enemy, as he raised his weapon to strike her from the world.

  Her arm was shaking as she held her blade before her face in what was surely a futile effort to protect herself. As she did so, the brightly polished surface caught the light of the full sun, reflecting it into Gorgon’s strange, pale eyes. To her surprise, he flinched back, squinting and blinking, turning his flat, ugly face away for a moment. So! He was vulnerable, at least, to something. Taking advantage of his brief moment of distraction, she crawled backward just as Rogond appeared before Gorgon, sword in hand, looking a bit dazed, but still very much a force to be reckoned with. Gorgon snarled and met Rogond’s blade with his own.

  Gorgon had underestimated Rogond’s skill and determination, and for a moment it looked as though the Aridan might actually prevail. But Rogond could not keep up the level of strength necessary to hold off this enemy, and he soon flagged as Gorgon, sensing weakness, pressed ever harder. Gaelen thought to shoot at Gorgon’s eyes, though his helmet would make this difficult, but she found she could no longer pull her bow, much less hold it with the required steadiness. She dropped it in frustration, picked up her short sword, and tried to distract her enemy from Rogond, but Gorgon struck her against the ground so hard that she did not get up again.

  Rogond raised his blade for what he guessed might be the last time, wavering on unsteady feet, breath whistling in his throat. He had held off the enemy alone for several minutes, a feat not often accomplished in all of Gorgon’s long years, but his strength was spent at last. As Gorgon raised his weapon to strike, a bright arrow flew out of nowhere to lodge under his right arm, and he actually cried out in pain. Nelwyn, wan and shaking but determined, had come up behind Rogond and now stood in his defense. Gorgon gripped the shaft of the arrow and yanked it hard from his flesh, grimacing, before casting it aside. He was still confident that he would prevail, as the Aridan would give no further trouble, and the golden-haired She-elf would be taken easily—she could hardly even focus on him. "Back away from him, Dark Horror, or the next one flies straight to your foul eyes," said Nelwyn, still trying to distract Gorgon from finishing both of her friends.

  In answer, Gorgon’s blade cut hard toward Rogond, who found it all he could do to deflect the blow before the next one came, aimed straight at his neck. He ducked under it, but his head swam and he sank to the ground, fighting to remain conscious. Nelwyn’s arrow struck Gorgon’s helmet harmlessly, and he rushed at her intending to make an end of her. Nelwyn staggered back, defenseless, as she had no blade.

  At that moment, Gaelen appeared behind her cousin, clutching Gorgon’s mirror-bright shield, aiming the reflected beam of brilliant sunlight directly into his eyes. Gorgon roared with pain and drew back, flinging his arm before his face. Gaelen continued to focus the reflected light from the shield on him as he turned about, trying in vain to escape it. This had never happened to him in all his dark years! Fury welled withi
n him—he could never let the prophecy of Gelmyr prove true. He turned back to face his enemies, left hand trying to shade his burning, streaming eyes, and now beheld not three foes, but four. Galador stood with drawn sword, a fierce light in his eyes, and at full strength.

  Despite all expectation to the contrary, Gorgon felt for the first time that he might not prevail this day. He engaged Galador, and they fought for a few tense moments, as the Elf became aware of the magnitude of the enemy he faced. Gorgon’s strength was returning, and his confidence showed dangerous signs of renewing itself. If that happened, Galador knew that they might likely all be killed. He backed away for a moment, and addressed his foe:

  "Now is your chance. Take your honor, if indeed you have any, and live to defeat us another day. You cannot prevail here."

  "No Elf engages Gorgon Elfhunter and lives," said Gorgon. "Your companions are all but dead from trying to defeat me. As for yourself, you’re already living beyond your time. This fight will not end until none of you draws breath." He looked quite capable of making good on this threat, drawing himself up to his full height. Without warning, he rushed at Galador who, like Rogond, would not have the strength to hold him off for very long.

  "Gaelen! The shield!" cried Galador as the rocks rang with the sound of clashing blades. Gaelen could no longer lift the heavy shield by herself, and as she cried out in frustration, Rogond’s strong hands gripped it. Together they tossed it to Galador, who, to Gorgon’s horror, turned the bright sunlight upon him. Gorgon staggered back, lashing out blindly, but his enemy easily avoided him. This was not in his plan at all. He could not prevail with that accursed fire burning his eyes. He had but one choice now—to turn and flee.