“I'm more than willing,” the elvish warden replied.
“Be quick,” Tealor said, “we need to leave as quickly as possible. Remember: at the very first sign of trouble, we meet back here. We all have to be ready to flee at a moment's notice.”
In reply, the Telian silently kicked his horse into motion. Time was of the essence and it was essential that he was fast, as well as thorough. As his eyes scanned the bodies strewn about him, he asked the Eilian to reveal any who might still be saved. He also pleaded that, in time, they would lead him to those responsible for this villainy.
In truth, the knight held out little hope of finding a living soul amongst the carnage. Most of the corpses covering the ground were so badly damaged that it was clear they had died very quickly. However, as body after body fell under the Telian's gaze, the young knight came to the realization that few of them had been damaged by the normal weapons of war. He could clearly see wounds that had been made by tooth and claw.
The moment Darian began his search, Kilren rose and lifted his bride-to-be gently from the ground; wiping the tears from her eyes.
“Give me a moment,” she said.
The elvish maid turned and marched quickly to the side of her mount, taking up her weapons. Armed with bow and arrow, she hurried back to the side of her betrothed. Kilren drew his sword and the pair hurried toward the nearest of the still-standing buildings.
“Wouldn't you rather have your crossbow?” the maiden asked.
“Not with us searching door to door through ransacked houses; no,” he replied. “Besides, Nathan may want to use it. Why?”
“Well, I've seen your swordplay,” she said, trying to smile.
“You're right,” he chuckled. “But, it's the right weapon for the job.”
The two grew silent as they reached the first doorway. More than likely there was nothing inside but wreckage and corpses, but Kilren was taking no chances. He put his back to the wall and shot a quick glance into the room. Two bodies, a pile of broken furniture, and two other open doors. Nothing to worry about yet.
He nodded at his betrothed and ducked quickly into the room, holding his sword at the ready. Erana followed closely; her bow up, an arrow on the string. The two unfortunates that lay on the floor were unquestionably dead. There was no need to waste time checking. Shattered furniture and broken glassware covered the floor; none of it large enough to conceal even a child. Along one of the walls, were a number of long, deep scratch marks.
“Troll,” Kilren whispered.
Erana simply nodded in reply.
The next room they entered had been the owners' bed chamber. The bed frame had been broken to pieces, and the mattress ripped to shreds. It seemed to be destruction merely for destruction's sake. The room's other furnishings were all in a comparable state. Here, again, there was no place to hide.
A combined larder and kitchen was the last of the small dwelling's rooms. This too had been demolished. However, the debris of partially eaten food was strewn across the floor along with the detritus of shattered furniture and broken dishes. The young rogue took the time to check through the few cabinets that still had doors but, they contained nothing of interest.
The couple continued from house to house carefully, quickly, and efficiently. They found only the remains of a few more unfortunates and general devastation. Whoever their enemies were, they had been thorough. Had they left any survivors, they were few in number.
As they approached a large building near the outskirts of the village, Kilren saw Tealor and Nathan emerging from another building nearby. The rogue raised his hands in a questioning manner but, the warrior only shook his head. It seemed they were doing no better than he and Erana.
The building they approached was one of the common houses of the village. It was within a very similar structure that the party had passed a very pleasant evening less than two weeks ago. Memories flooded the rogue's mind as he gazed around the room; considering the senseless destruction. Suddenly, Erana took hold of his arm.
“I heard something,” she whispered.
It was possible, the knight thought to himself – perhaps more than possible – that some of these poor souls met their end at the clawed hands of trolls like the one they had slain only hours before.
Darian's tracking skills were extremely limited and this caused him to consider the fact that Kilren would be able to read much more of the story told by the broken bodies and disturbed earth than he could hope to. Still, there were threads he could pull from the fabric with careful examination. He noticed a track in the soft ground that even he recognized.
Clearly, it was the print of a wolf. However, it was twice the size of those left by Rragor. In the knight's somewhat limited experience, that particular animal was rather on the large side – so far as wolves were concerned. The Telian carefully scanned the area and discovered several more prints leading him to a body that had been hidden from view by the verdant landscape. It was, in fact, a wolf. At least, Darian thought it was.
The creature was far larger than any wolf the knight had ever seen. It was roughly the size of a bear and a number of long, horn-like spines protruded from its shoulders and back. The beast’s head and mouth were filled with arrows; attesting to the fact that the villagers had defended themselves and that these creatures were difficult to kill. He would need to ask Ian about these beasts before they left but, for the moment, his search was more important.
“I would ask if you're sure,” Kilren whispered in reply, “but, you usually are.”
“Shhh,” the beautiful ranger said softly, pulling her long silver hair back behind her ear.
The two stood in silence; breathing as quietly as they could for nearly a minute.
“There is something beneath the floor,” Erana finally asserted.
“What is it?” the rogue asked in hushed tones.
“I'm not sure,” she replied.
“Well,” he said, glancing around the room, “How do we look beneath the floor?”
“I'm not sure,” the ranger replied again, slowly shaking her head.
The two began to search the area carefully. This was difficult to do silently, however, as it meant moving a great deal of broken furniture. As the pair quietly righted an overturned table, something caught the rogue's attention. Something about the floorboards didn't look quite right but, Kilren wasn't sure exactly what it was. The boards across this section of floor were long and the nearest joints – which were several feet away – were offset. It seemed unlikely that there would be an opening in this section of the flooring. Nevertheless, the rogue felt certain that there was one.
He got down on his hands and knees for a closer look and then it hit him. There was a shadow. A faint shadow. A shadow that was finer than a hair. But, still, a shadow. The light was coming through the door at just the right angle to reveal that one section of floor was slightly – ever so slightly – higher than the other. It was undoubtedly a secret hatch.
“Elves may be insane,” Kilren thought to himself, “but, they're also geniuses.”
He ran his hands over every inch of the floor in front of him; pushing here, gently tapping there. As his fingers ran over a section of floor near the hairline shadow, a small latch popped up from the seemingly normal boards. The rogue glanced up at Erana with a sly smile on his face. Gently, he pushed the tiny lever one way and then another. Suddenly, a trapdoor sprang open.
“Who's there?” a voice called from the darkness below.
“A friend,” Erana replied.
“Sister!” the voice below exclaimed. “Thank Selvios!”
“Is that your sister?” the rogue whispered.
“No, of course not,” the ranger replied, shaking her head.
Minutes later, the secret room was empty. The rogue and ranger had found and rescued twelve of the village’s citizens. They led the group quickly back to the center of the little hamlet; to where their friends stood, waiting with the horses. In the distance, they saw anoth
er elf heading quickly in the same direction.
As the knight raised his eyes from the carcass, something caught his attention a short distance away. It was the silvery-white aura of a still-living being. He would have to be cautious, however. He couldn't see what it was. He could only see its life force. He concentrated on the creature. It was no danger.
Moments later, Darian was looking down at a very injured – but still breathing – warden. The surrounding area was covered in the unfortunate elf's blood; his broken weapon lying near his head. The knight leapt from the saddle, laying his healing hands on the prostrate form before him. The warden coughed several times as the color quickly returned to his pale face and lips. Slowly, he opened his eyes.
“Who are you?” the elf asked.
“A friend,” The knight replied with a smile. “Can you stand?”
“I think so,” the warden nodded.
“Good. We need to get you out of here.”
The Telian helped the elf to his feet and instructed him to make his way to the center of the village. Normally, Darian would have escorted him or given him his horse, however, this was not a normal situation. Through the grace of the Eilian, he had just saved a life. It was his hope that, before all was said and done, he would save more.
The warden did as he was instructed and the Telian climbed back into the saddle. It was with renewed hope that the young knight continued his search. By the time he finished, less than half-an-hour later, he had found and healed another six survivors. The young knight's strength was very nearly exhausted but, his spirit very much renewed as he turned his mount back toward the center of Dalfaen.
When the party reunited at the heart of the hamlet, they found that they had rescued nearly twenty of the villagers. That was far more than they had dared to hope but, it was still far fewer than the hundreds of elves that had lived there just hours before.
“What happened here?” Tealor asked one of the rescued wardens as soon as the party was assembled once again.
“We were attacked just before dawn this morning,” he replied. “A group of trolls, perhaps twenty...”
“Twenty!” Ian interrupted. “That's unheard of!”
“Well,” the warden continued. “There were at least twenty. I counted that many myself. And, they weren't like normal trolls...”
“Covered in glowing runes?” Sarena asked. “Resistant to fire?”
“I don't know about the fire,” he said, “but, some of them were covered in glowing runes.”
At this, the husband and wife turned to each other with concern filling their eyes.
“Of course,” he continued. “There were also several wargs.”
“Wargs?” Darian asked.
“Giant wolves,” Erana answered. “You may have heard them called dire wolves.”
“I've never heard the term,” the knight replied, shaking his head. “I think I've seen one, though.”
“Where?” the ranger asked with a note of alarm in her voice.
“In the bushes, back that way,” the Telian answered, pointing over his shoulder with his thumb. “It was dead.”
“Wargs and trolls hunting together in a pack,” Ian said, letting out a long shrill whistle. “That's going to be unwelcome news...”
“Well,” the warden replied, “They weren't really hunting. I don't know that they...”
Here, he paused. His glance passing from Sarena to Gwendolyn.
“You don't think they consumed anyone,” the sorceress said with a slight smile on her red lips. “You needn't worry about us, gentle elf. We're not squeamish.”
“Well, yes,” he replied. “I don't know that they ate anything.”
“They did,” Kilren asserted. “Well, they tasted some things, anyway. Several of the houses had bits of half eaten food strewn around.”
“That is odd,” Ian said, rubbing his chin. “Although, I don't know what it means just yet. It seems obvious that they didn't attack the village for food. That raises the question: Why did they attack?”
“Did they need a reason?” Kilren asked. “They're trolls.”
“There are times, lad, when I begin to believe that you can actually think,” the bard said, shooting a sideways glance at the young rogue, “but, then you say something like that. First, the wargs weren't trolls; they were wargs. Second, although you might be able to dismiss a single troll going crazy and attacking a village, it's extremely difficult to explain the presence – and cooperative attack – of twenty of the brutes with that same rationale.”
“You make a fair point there,” Kilren admitted.
“Whatever the reason, the fact is that they did attack,” Tealor observed. “Now, we have a small army of refugees that we have to decide what to do with.”
“What do you mean?” Darian asked.
“Well,” the warrior began, “we can try to escort them to safety – hoping that, if anything attacks us, we can defeat whatever it is and save them. We can arm them and send them in what we believe to be a safe direction. Or, we can leave them here simply because the troll army isn't likely to come back this way.”
“I see what you mean...” Darian said slowly. “If we're attacked by twenty trolls, I'm not sure we could kill them all.”
“No, lad,” Ian laughed. “I'm not just exactly sure of that myself.”
“Of course,” the knight continued. “Whether we leave them here or send them somewhere else, they might be attacked and killed without even having us there to attempt to defend them.”
“True.” Tealor stated.
“If we all get killed,” the Telian observed. “Then, no one will be able to get a message to King Illfas.”
“I thought you couldn't be killed,” Kilren said, smiling at his friend.
“I used to think that, too,” the knight nodded. “I was wrong. Tealor, what should I do?”
“Make a decision,” the warrior replied.
“Don't you have any advice?” Darian asked.
“I've given it to you,” the warrior replied, putting his hand on the shoulder of the young knight. “I see only three possible choices. They all hold a certain amount of danger. Each of them could likely succeed or fail.”
“Give me a moment,” the Telian replied.
The young knight stepped over to his horse before moving a short distance away and kneeling. He asked the Eilian to guide him and to show him what he needed to do. Each road could lead to disaster. The corpses that filled the village proved that the Telian could not always save everyone.
His eyes fell to the small silver coin in his hand. He stared down at it in silent contemplation. He had outgrown it. The Eilian could guide him with wisdom rather than the flip of a coin. Wisdom was what he needed now. For several minutes, the young Telian bowed his head in fervent prayer. He had come to a decision. The refugees would come with them.
The band quickly gathered enough weapons for all who had the skill to use them. Darian and Tealor each selected a long spear from the collection of arms that lay scattered around the village. They weren't exactly lances but, they could serve that purpose if the need arose. The party's mounts were divided among the refugees. The women, the children, and the aged all shared them in turn. This was not true, however, of the horses belonging to the knight and the warrior.
On Tealor's advice, he and Darian would remain mounted. They had to be ready for anything and they were both far more dangerous on horseback. The maneuverability gained by riding was an added advantage that they sorely needed. The captain also suggested that several of the group act as scouts, to help them avoid any dangers they might encounter. At his request, Kilren and Ian took the lead. Several of the wardens agreed to scout to the east and west. He wanted the sensitive ears of Erana in the rear so they would be sure to have advanced warning of any pursuit. Gwendolyn offered to keep her company and, as there seemed to be little danger, the ranger gladly accepted.
“How are you feeling?” the maiden asked after a few minutes of silent marching.
“Better,” the ranger sighed. “It was just... I wasn't ready for that, I guess.”
“It was horrible...” Gwendolyn replied.
The pair resumed their silence for a short while before the elf spoke again.
“It was horrible,” she agreed with a nod, “but, I have to learn to accept it... or, at least, deal with it. It seems that Innalas may be at war. We may see other things that are just as terrible – or worse – before this is all over.”
“I hope we don't,” the young sorceress said shaking her head. “I do see what you mean, though. We can't go to pieces every time... every time we run into something like that.”
“No, we can't,” the ranger replied. “I don't know what came over me. I've seen a lot of... of dead people... just in the last few days alone.”
“That's true,” Gwendolyn agreed, “but this was very different. At least, it was for. I had never seen anyone die until my rescue. Since then, it's all been people that were trying to catch us or kill us. I suppose I still pitied them but, they weren't...”
“Weren't innocents that had been slaughtered for no reason,” the elf said, finishing the thought of her friend. “Yes, I think that's exactly what it was for me. Still, I've gone through it now. I think I'll be able to handle it better next time.”
“I believe I will, as well,” the maiden replied pausing for a moment before continuing. “Uhhh... Let's talk about something else.”
“Alright,” Erana smiled. “What shall we talk about?”
“Well,” Gwendolyn said thoughtfully. “Not the men! We talk about them enough.”
“More than enough,” the elvish ranger quickly agreed. “How about magic? How is your training going?”
“Very well,” the maiden smiled, “as you could probably tell by what Sarena and I did.”
“Yes,” Erana replied. “I was really impressed! Did you know that some of the rangers of Innalas can use magic?”
The Beasts of Areon (The Chronicles of Areon Book 2) Page 6
