so it would be tasty, she thought. She built up the now-dead campfire and put the bird over the fire to roast while she worked.
She searched the hunters’ belongings and found a heavy stone dagger, almost a hand-axe, to use to dismember some of the bodies. It was tiring work, but she got enough for the wolves to take back to their den in a few hours. She found the pond where the fowl had came from and drank her fill, then sank down beside the water and wept.
“Why do you cry?” questioned the low-pitched voice of Azyu. “You avenged your tribe.”
“Yes, I did,” she agreed, then looked up at the dark shape standing beside her. “I killed them all. I killed them,” she repeated as if to herself. “I am alone. What else is there in this world for me?”
“You don’t have to be. You have us, and there are other people in the world,” Azyu pointed out. “There is lots to learn and places to go.”
“I feel different, there are voices whispering behind my eyes. We are not supposed to kill our own kind. Sennar said--” she stopped, her voice hitching with sadness. “He told me we shouldn’t kill our own. He told me not to let you in.”
“He is right, for most folk. I don’t think just anyone can withstand our intensity, or can handle our knowledge.”
“Why me? Why am I being punished?” she sobbed.
“You are not being punished,” the spirit assured her. “You are being prepared for something great. Do not look back, Lilit.”
IV
Lilit enjoyed her roasted bird, and later examined the spears of Zazel’s hunters. They were straight shafts of wood, with a sharpened flake of flint fastened to one end with sinew and glue made from resin or animal fat. After studying them, Lilit understood how she could make some of her own. She used some of the men’s hide clothing to repair her ripped and burned traveling tunic and make herself a cloak. Then she tried to decide what direction she should set out in. She didn’t want to go south for fear of encountering more of the Ulln, and she knew Zazel’s folk weren’t far from where she was now. To the west were tribes that had been friendly with the Khehbas, but she didn’t feel like dealing with the questions and curiosity about what had befallen her people.
East it is, then, she decided.
The wolves had left after eating their bellies full, dragging hunks of the dead hunters back to the rest of their pack. She felt a kinship with the predatory creatures, not realizing she herself was a dangerous predator and not the carefree fifteen year old she once was. She was unaware, though the spirits were, of the warrior she’d wounded in the thigh still being alive. The wolves hadn’t gotten around to eating him since there were so many bodies scattered around, and when he sat up and peered at the carnage all around him, he grabbed a spear as a crutch and hobbled his way home to tell of the avenging female spirit who commanded animals and the unseen. This in turn would feed the fear and belief in the Khehbas spirits, making them stronger, which pleased them.
Lilit followed the direction that the sun rose in the mornings, totally unsure what she would find or what she would do when she found it. She was thankful it was summer and she didn’t have to worry about the elements as much, but it could still get cool in the forests and steppes. She tracked small game and foraged for roots, berries and plants as her kind had been doing for thousands of years, and kept her traveling rations set aside.
Two weeks passed, with the land changing to small hills, then modest mountains, which she traversed slowly. Picking a path through the inclined terrain didn’t come naturally to her, having grown up on the open steppes, but she managed. She was gazing up at the sky, trying to get her bearings, when something large crashed through the brush just ahead of her.
Immediately she had her spear at hand, ready for use, when the big animal in question burst out of the bushes to bear down upon her.
It was an enormous elk, with a spear sticking out of its flank, running in its pain-induced madness right for her. Its antlers spread as far out as a man is tall, terminating with dozens of wicked points. Feet apart, she took careful aim and let fly with the flint-tipped spear. It tore through the cervid’s neck and severed an artery. With a strangled moan it fell on its side, twitched, then was still.
Lilit heard movement in the bushes following the trail of the fleeing elk and prepared for the possibility of hostility. Two figures emerged into view gripping heavy shaved spears like the ones her tribe had made, but the hunters were much shorter and much more broad than anyone she had seen thus far. They had hides wrapped around their legs and torsos and skin capes all made of one piece, broad faces with wide noses and wide-set eyes, and heavy beards. Their heads sloped back oddly, making their heavy brows appear more pronounced.
They were the Old Ones the elders used to tell her about as a child.
Lilit held her hands out in the universal symbol of greeting and held her breath. After staring at her a few moments, the men step forward with their hands out and palms up. They uttered some guttural noises at her which she didn’t understand, then one of the men spoke several different phrases at her but she didn’t know what he was saying.
“Greetings be to you, yellow-haired woman,” he finally said, in a heavy accent but she could make out the words.
“Greetings,” she said, and let out her breath. “I do not mean to trespass, I am only passing through.”
“I think you do us a favor,” the man said, his dark eyes twinkling in mirth. “You helped us get our food that was running away. I am Koe, and this is my brother Tiin. What are you called?”
“I am called Lilit,” she answered.
“Lilit Yellow-hair, you are welcome to a share of this meat, and to visit our camp if you wish. Where are your people?”
“They are dead,” she replied to that, and saw the men’s eyes widen at her. “An evil man led trolls to our camp and killed all the Khehbas.”
“Bad man with bad spirits, I heard of others of you Tall Ones talking about it. I think you better come back with us and tell us your tale.”
“I would love to,” Lilit said, and smiled at them.
The story continues in the next book.
About the Author
Shana O’Quinn, also known in online circles as Sandoz Driftwood, was born and raised in the quiet, green mountains of the Appalachias. She grew up loving Star Wars, Star Trek, zombies, werewolves, and pirate movies. As can probably be inferred she has quite an obsession with all things elves.
She has an intense interest in ancient prehistory, myths, legends, and belief in magic--which explains this work here.
She is currently working on other books in the Ages of Telamon series, when she’s not researching Celtic legends, eating red meat, working on illustrations, or playing with her cat Exie. That’s short for Exene Meowsers Explosion, if you were wondering.
Other books she has scribbled:
Beowulf’s Struggle
A re-imagining of the classic Anglo-Saxon tale Beowulf. This fantasy retelling covers Beowulf's confrontation with Grendel's mother and the aftermath, as she is an unearthly creature that cannot be killed by normal means. The Queen of the Danes, Wealthow, may hold the answer in her strange visions and precognition, which will certainly be needed after the monster's mother's evil kin comes calling.
Lady of the Sidhe
Damosel Imerra looks for her lost son Tirnen Halfelven, and finds more than expected in that he's now in the service of an undead wizard with a chip on his shoulder. This Necromancer wants nothing more than to live again to fulfill his mission of subjugating the world of Telamon and will destroy anything that stands in his path. Enter Imerra the Guardian and her band of unlikely companions that includes a hapless, smitten Druid, a Sorceress, a Dwarf-woman, and an Orc among others. Enter the world of Telamon, a world already ancient and full of creatures that no longer exist. This tale is the first of an epic series of tales and stories covering this amazing, vibrant world long forgotten, where humans, or Mohrtei, are only one of a m
yriad sentient peoples inhabiting this post Ice Age time. This is the first of Ages of Telamon series.
Secret Ones, Volume 1
It’s the 1970s, White Death is the most popular rock band, and its frontman is an elf. So is the guitarist. There’s also vampire Dark Elves, werewolves, ancient demonesses, dragons, and more. And that’s just the beginning, because soon there will be a showdown between ancient foes and forgotten legends in a modern world totally unprepared for it. Part of the Ages of Telamon series.
Secret Ones, Volume 2
A book in the Ages of Telamon series, legends and myths collide in an alternate 1970's. Super megaband White Death is now on hiatus due to fighting the forces of evil in the form of Lycaeans, the werewolves, led by their creator Lilith; and the monstrous Drow, cousins to the Sidhe who inhabit Telamon under everyone's nose. Elves, dragons, faery dogs, hellhounds, and a cursed magical sword abound as each group of friends tries in their own fashion to thwart the impending world domination.
The Chronicles of Lilith Book 1 Page 6
