by A. Giannetti
“A pretty piece,” Ascilius admitted, “but it is too brittle to be of much use like this.” With the same spell he had used on their drinking cups, he strengthened both weapons so that they would not shatter or chip. Before he went to sleep, Elerian made a handle for Ascilius’s ax and another bow and a half dozen arrows tipped with stone points for himself.
They traveled east through the mountains for the next two days, walking by day and hiding by night. The plentiful streams that flowed down out of the heights yielded silvery trout for them to eat, and Elerian was able to shoot grouse that were of a normal gray color in the forest. Best of all, they saw no signs of any Goblins, recent or old. The only worrisome thing that they encountered was occasional flocks of the small black birds they had seen throughout Nefandus. Flying overhead in chattering flocks, they appeared to be spying out the land with their sharp red eyes. At such times, Elerian and Ascilius hid themselves away until the flocks passed by, for Elerian, seeking to conserve his strength, was no longer using his ring to make himself and Ascilius invisible.
The sense of peace the two companions had begun to enjoy was abruptly shattered at the end of the second day. While climbing the side of a steep, forested slope, they unexpectedly encountered a half dozen of the black hounds the Goblins had used in the dark hunt.
The black, wolfish looking animals were descending down the slope in a loose pack and surrounded them at once, an eager gleam shining in their fiery eyes. Ascilius and Elerian at once stood back to back, Elerian holding his knife and Ascilius his ax. The animals began to circle them, looking for an opportunity to dart in and strike. Several of them made short, false rushes, hoping to panic the two companions into breaking ranks.
“Do not run,” said Ascilius to Elerian in a tense voice. “If they get between us, they will pull us down in a matter of minutes.”
“We cannot stand here forever,” said Elerian. “They will take turns until they wear us down like a stag brought to bay.”
When the next hound made a rush, Elerian decided to take the fight to the pack. Extending his right arm, he cast a destruction spell, killing the animal before it could retreat. Pouncing on a second hound, Elerian struck it down with his knife. He caught a third by the throat with his left hand as it reared on its hind legs to seize him by the throat. After a quick thrust through the heart with his knife, he flung the carcass into the face of a fourth hound, knocking it off its feet.
Not to be outdone, Ascilius rushed forward with a great cry and struck down two hounds with quick blows of his ax when they tried to attack Elerian from behind. The last living member of the pack rolled out from under the body Elerian had flung at it and tried to run away, but simultaneously, Elerian’s knife struck it in the side and Ascilius’s thrown ax split its skull.
“That once counts as mine,” said Ascilius excitedly. “My ax struck it first.”
“I think my knife struck first,” said Elerian, a humorous glint in his eyes.
“Well then, you cannot count the others,” said Ascilius blandly as he retrieved his ax. “You cheated by attacking them without warning, otherwise I would have slain the lot of them myself.”
Elerian considered this an outrageous statement considering Ascilius’s earlier advice to stand firm. “We will call it even then,” said Elerian. “Next time we are attacked, however, I promise to let you lead,” he said dryly.
“Done,” said Ascilius, retrieving his ax. “We should hide the bodies,” he said thoughtfully surveying the dead hounds. “They will draw a crowd of scavengers that will be easily seen if someone comes looking for these beasts.”
“First, I want some of the hides,” said Elerian, and he expertly skinned out four of the creatures. They ended up throwing the bodies into a dry ravine and covering them with rocks and leaves since Elerian did not want to drain his powers by using them to make a hole large enough to contain the whole pack. Not wishing to press their luck, they took refuge in a shallow, cave like space under a fallen tree for the night.
“What do you plan to do with those hides?” asked Ascilius of Elerian after they had eaten their dinner of grilled trout that Elerian had caught that afternoon. “They are already beginning to smell,” he said distastefully.
“Watch and you will see,” said Elerian. He cast a transformation spell, and the raw skins became supple and odorless. With quick, sure strokes of his stone knife, Elerian cut the hides into pieces and then melded them back together with a joining spell. When he was done, he had two seamless fur cloaks, one for himself, and a shorter one for Ascilius.
“The fur is coarser than I would like,” he said to Ascilius as he handed him a cloak, “but at least it will be warm.”
“The color leaves much to be desired,” said Ascilius, as he threw the cloak over his shoulders. “I have grown quite tired of black.” His tone was serious, but when Elerian looked into the Dwarf’s face, there was a glint of good humor in his eyes, for he was really quite pleased with the warm robe. Wrapped in their new cloaks, Ascilius and Elerian had one of their best night’s sleep in years.
The next morning, hungry again but refreshed, they rose early and set out at once. After several miles, they crested a high ridge and saw that there were no more mountains in front of them. A vast green forest stretched away out of sight to the east and north. To the west, the great wood was hemmed in by the dark shapes of more mountain ranges. In the distance, to the north, a road ran east to west through the forest like a thin, pale thread.
Elerian and Ascilius stood for a moment among the rocks at the crest of the ridge, savoring the free wind that was blowing out of the east. “We have reached the Broken Lands,” said Ascilius triumphantly. “We are the first slaves to ever have escaped from Nefandus.”
“It seems like a long way to go yet,” said Elerian in a subdued voice as he measured the vast forest before them with his eyes, wondering how many days it would take to travel the length of it.
“It is a far distance,” agreed Ascilius, “but we will manage it. That is the old north road that you see through the trees. We must follow it all the way east to Calenus, but we will have good cover all the way.”
“Do the Goblins use the road?” asked Elerian.
Ascilius shrugged. “Not often. They prefer to use their road through Fimbria. With a little luck, we will not see another Goblin until we reach Calenus, for they have no settlements in the Broken Lands that I know of. We shall have to watch for Trolls, however, for they make their home in the Trofim to the north of us.”
Remembering his encounter with Anferth in Ancharia, Elerian was not pleased to hear that they might stumble upon Trolls, but he said nothing to Ascilius. Together, they made their way down the mountainside. Once they reached the forest below, they began traveling east, keeping south of the road.
Elerian curiously examined the country and the forest around him as they walked. The trees were huge and ancient, almost as large as the giants living in the Abercius. Their enormous branches formed a thick, leafy roof overhead, completely blocking out the sky. The ground beneath the trees was open, covered with drifts of brown leaves and knee high beds of feathery green ferns, but it was constantly rising or falling, as if the land had risen or sunk abruptly at some time in the past. Occasionally, Elerian and Ascilius encountered large, flat expanses of gray lichen covered stone, as if the bones of the earth lay close to the surface in this country. They always circled around these open areas, preferring to stay under cover of the forest canopy.
Despite the difficult terrain, Elerian thought the Broken Lands a great improvement over the country of the Goblins. The air had a wholesome feel to it that had been lacking in the close woods of Nefandus. Best of all, there were no thorns or biting insects.
When evening approached, they looked for a place to camp for the night, settling on a grove of tall, straight ash trees that grew on a small rise, with a deep, leaf covered hollow in the center. A stream ran close by, and they washed off the grime of their journey in a deep po
ol where the water ran clear and cold. Afterwards, they combed out their tangled hair with their fingers.
Ascilius returned to the grove, but Elerian remained behind and shot several silver trout with his arrows. After he had enough for a meal, he too returned to the hollow where Ascilius had already made beds for the two of them out of leaves and soft ferns.
Elerian cast an illusion spell around the hollow and began to hang silver and gold mage lights from the trunks of the trees to drive away the dark.
“Those lights can be seen a long way through the trees,” said Ascilius unhappily.
“I have cast an illusion spell over the hollow,” Elerian reassured him. “No one can see them unless they possess mage sight.”
“The third eye is a rare gift, but you are still taking a foolish risk,” objected Ascilius.
“It is a risk I am willing to take,” said Elerian stubbornly. “For one night at least, I wish to enjoy the forest and our freedom as they should be enjoyed.”
Shaking his head disapproval, Ascilius cleaned the trout Elerian had caught, poking a green stick through their gills before setting them to roast over one of his small red mage fires. While the unhappy Dwarf prepared dinner, Elerian called back their drinking cups. Taking them to the nearby stream, he filled them with water. When he returned, he handed one to Ascilius. As soon as the Dwarf took a sip, the grumpy look on his face vanished.
“This is ale,” he said happily, “equal to the best I have ever had in my home under the mountain.”
Elerian sat down on a root across from Ascilius and sipped his own ale. When the fish were done, they ate and Elerian refilled their cups. Sitting on enormous tree roots across from each other, they basked in the warmth and light of Ascilius’s magical fire.
“You look like a lord of the greenwood tonight,” said Ascilius suddenly, startling Elerian, who was unaware that the silver and gold lights raised a shimmer in his dark hair and illuminated a face grown thin from hardship, but still extraordinarily fair to look upon.
“And you look a proper king of the Dwarves,” said Elerian not to be outdone. Indeed, with his great cloak thrown over his shoulders, hair washed, and long beard combed out, Ascilius looked a stern and wise ruler of his people. He gave Elerian a strange, questioning look, but instead of replying, he drank deeply from his goblet, and Elerian did the same.
“You are blessed with great powers,” said Ascilius suddenly, as if he were voicing a thought that had long been on his mind.
“What is so exceptional about making a cup of ale?” asked Elerian comfortably.
“You could rival Torquatus if you wished,” said Ascilius, not to be put off. He made no attempt to mask the concern in his voice.
Elerian stared at Ascilius in surprise. “So, you fear I might be plotting to take over the Middle Realm,” he said lightly.
“You would not be the first to succumb to the lure of power,” said Ascilius seriously.
“I have no desire whatever to order anyone about,” said Elerian lazily. “A fair piece of woodland and peace to enjoy it is all I wish for.”
Elerian’s answer seemed to reassure Ascilius, as if it had put to rest some worry that he had entertained for a long time. After draining his goblet, he said tiredly, “You may stay up all night if you wish, but I am going to sleep. You should put out the mage lights now. We have taken enough risk.”
“Anything to help you sleep better,” said Elerian with a smile.
While Ascilius put out his fire before rolling himself into his new cloak, Elerian extinguished his mage lights and ended his illusion spell. Afterwards, wrapped in his cloak, sitting with his back against a tree, he stared off into the forest. Behind him, the sound of Ascilius’s peaceful, heavy breathing came to his ears. In the distance, he heard the haunting cry of a wolf followed by the coughing roar of a leopard, but nothing dangerous approached the boundaries of their camp.
“What does the future hold for us?” Elerian wondered to himself as he sat in the dark. “There are still many miles and unknown dangers between us and Ascilius’s home in the east. If we reach there alive, what then?” Elerian was certain that Balbus and Tullius were long dead, slain by Lurco. With them gone, Hesperia no longer held any attraction for him, but where else was he to go?
“I have no history, no country, and no people,” he thought sadly to himself. His mind began to drift then. Dreaming with his eyes open, he saw Balbus and Tullius again, reliving memories so true and vivid, they seemed as real as his waking moments. When the first rays of the sun lightened the eastern horizon, he finally stirred. Putting away the past, he woke Ascilius, and they began their journey east, toward freedom.
