"But sir, her choice has been made," the elderly Dar'Shilaar interjected, "and cannot be undone. As a member of the Dar'Shilaar she will not need the use of your surname any further. She will be known from this point forward only as Celia Shilaar, the same as all of our members. Family names are given up as a requirement."
This statement made her father even angrier, if that was possible. She could see that he was a short time from losing control, but she watched as he buried it deep down and regained some composure.
Her mother touched her father on the shoulder and stepped up slightly. "Well, come home and have dinner with us tonight after you get your things packed, and we'll talk about this some before you leave in the morning."
"There's nothing to talk about. She's made her decision and must live with the consequences - she can come home and get packed and leave immediately." Her father's words were without emotion, said only as a fact. Her mother had tears in her eyes, but did not sob. She was a strong woman, Celia knew; after all, she was married to her father.
"Well then, that's settled," said the elderly Shilaar. "Meet me at the Gilded Pear Inn on Farthing Way when you have your things together and we'll leave promptly. He turned and ambled from the hall, bumping into several of the stragglers, apologizing with a wide smile and vacant eyes.
The carriage ride home was oppressively silent, no one looking at each other, but out the window at the buildings and people streaming past. Finally the buildings gave way and they passed through the wall and left the city on their way to their estate in the hills.
Once home, she bolted from the carriage and went straight to her room and gathered her few things, several of her newest changes of clothing, her two favorite books, her travelling boots, cloak and the ring her mother gave her. A few other sundries ended up in the pack as well, things with a practical purpose like her sewing kit, comb, and brush.
She then went down and met her mother at the front door. Her mother hugged her and said, "You may take the carriage back to town -"
"No, she may not! If she doesn't want to be a Wurthaven any more, then it can start now!" her father did not look at her as he addressed her mother. He then turned his scowl towards Celia, "You may walk to town. In fact, you are no longer welcome in this house." He held the door open for her.
She could see tears in her mother's eyes as she gave Celia one last hug. Seeing them caused tears to well up in hers and Celia fought hard not to sob uncontrollably. She managed to hold out until she reached the main road to town.
Chapter 23
Hoyle stood against the worshyr tree, at the top of the cleft in the rock, outside the ring of firelight. He could hear Celia sobbing quietly below through Robart's broken snoring, and could see her form curled up in a ball as she slept. She must be having a nightmare. Wonder what it's about? It surprised him that he cared enough for even that thought. He had been trying to be as hard emotionally as he could ever since he got out of the Imperial Sky Citadel. He knew it was a defense mechanism, but he had consciously chosen it. Now he found himself caring, even if it was just a little bit, and began to worry.
Suddenly something triggered the tingling at the base of his neck. He wasn't sure what had done it, but he now paid even more attention to his surroundings. Had he heard a stick snap, or was it that something brushed a branch nearby? Something was nearby, and he had to assume it was not friendly. He whistled a bird call into the night, pulled his cloak tighter around him, and slid back against the trunk of the tree. Almost immediately a chest-high shape moved past the tree, stick thin in the darkness, moving toward their camp.
He waited as several more of the figures moved past his hiding spot. He could see more figures on the far side of the cleft in the rock, looking down on his sleeping companions. They were little over a pace tall, with white bark-like skin, and thin, branch-like limbs. Their heads were narrow, wide at the top, tapering to a point at the chin. The tops of their heads looked like broken trees, with sharp edges sticking up in all directions. The creatures had eyes that glowed red in the firelight, and carried crude weapons, mostly spears that were no more than sharpened sticks. Several creatures had thicker club-like branches, and one carried a club made from a stone wedged into the end of a branch. They all seemed to be carrying a length of vine or course rope in a loop over their shoulders.
Hoyle made a rough count, and figured more than thirty now surrounded their camp, and he could hear more behind him in the darkness. If he moved now, or made a sound, he would be discovered. He could only hope Salrissa heard his bird call and made it to safety, as he couldn't see the camp clearly from this vantage point and moving even slightly was not an option.
The creatures chittered away in their strange language, and began yelling and screaming as they ambushed Hoyle's companions. He heard yells of surprise from his companions below and loud swearing from Robart as the creatures descended on the camp. Hoyle heard a "Cravash" from Celia and a squeal that must have come from one of the creatures, and then the firelight suddenly died. There were additional brief sounds of combat, but they ended as quickly as they started, as outnumbered as they were. More creatures were still milling around the top of the cleft, so close that he could reach out and touch one if he so wished. Assuming he was stupid and wanted to die or be captured.
He watched in the light of the waning crescent moon as the creatures herded the rest of the group up and out of the cleft, hands tied behind them and elbows bound tight. They were being prodded with the spears the creatures carried. In the near darkness, he could see four shapes, meaning they had managed to capture Salrissa, which meant there were more of them than he thought. Seven Hells!
He waited until he was sure the creatures were gone before he began to follow. In the city, he could follow anyone unseen and unheard, but out here it was a different situation. He was not a woodsman; he knew that he was going to make more noise than he wanted to, and if he stayed too close to the stick creatures, they would catch him. However, he couldn't let them get too far ahead, because he did not know how to track them if they did.
He stepped out of his hiding space cautiously, and began to move in the direction they had gone.
---o---
After what Hoyle figured to be just more than a bell, based on the position of the moon in the sky, he came over a rise and saw firelight through the trees below. He dropped to his stomach, his instincts telling him that there would be sentries. He watched the shadows carefully, and saw one just off the path to his right, and another one far to the left. The rise he was laying on was fairly gentle, with the trees spaced apart in this alpine meadow, but the dead winter grass was almost to his waist.
Below the rise, the trees began to clump together in a small ravine that appeared to have a small creek running through it. He could only see shadowy shapes moving through the trees against the faint firelight, but he could still hear Robart grumbling and cursing, throwing in a threat every now and again. It was his voice that allowed Hoyle to follow the raiding party from quite a distance back. The creatures had tried to silence him, but had so far been unsuccessful.
There was more of a scuffle in the clearing, and he noted that the creature closest to him turned toward the commotion. Hoyle took his chance and moved down the slope, alternately sliding and crawling on his elbows until he was at the next tree over from the stick-like figure. Then, stepping carefully, he edged around the pine tree and stalked towards his target in a crouch. He carefully slid his stiletto out of its sheath at his belt as he managed to step up behind it silently. He quickly put his hand over the creature's mouth and slid his stiletto into the creature's back through the thick, bark-like skin. The creature twitched several times before it died. Hoyle laid the body down in the grass, and rolled it under the branches of the tree it was standing next to.
He stayed low in the grass and looked toward where he had positioned the other sentry and noticed the creature still there, almost hidden in the high brittle grass. He decided to leave him be for n
ow and worked his way down the slope to the closest copse of trees. As he reached the trees screening his view, he could see there was a fairly steep drop-off, and noticed a small winding trail that switched back down the incline to the ravine below. Several more guards were stationed along the path.
Through the bare tree branches, he could see the creatures knock his companions to the ground on the far side of the small stream in front of a small cave opening. Most of the creatures from the raiding party surrounded their captives in a semi-circle facing the cave. He noticed several others moving around the ravine, tending fires, cooking meat on sticks, weaving strips of dried grass, and other more mundane tasks. This must be their home.
Two of the chest-high creatures entered the cave opening and returned after several minutes leading a larger creature. This creature was not the same as the stick-like creatures. This creature had green and brown mottled skin, with boils and warts all over. Its hair was patchy and stuck out in bristles all over its body like quills. It was slightly smaller than man-sized, possibly the same height as Valena though much more muscular, a head taller than the stick creatures. It was wearing a dirty, tattered loin cloth and a necklace of ears around its neck. It finished chewing on the cooked leg of some creature and flung it to one side as it walked up to the captives. Hoyle noted a wicked looking axe in its other hand. It appeared to be the leader of the stick creatures.
As he watched, the leader walked over to the bound captives and grabbed Salrissa by the chin. He turned her face up to his, examining her. He did the same with the other two women, and then finally turned to Robart. He stayed farther back from the cursing, struggling man and had a conversation in the strange language with several of the stick creatures. They gestured wildly at Robart while two others began to poke him with their spears, trying to get him to settle down. This just made Robart more riled and he thrashed even harder against his bindings. Finally the leader stood up from his conversation, grabbed a heavy branch from one of the other creatures and slammed it against Robart's skull three times before it knocked him unconscious.
Several of the creatures grabbed Robart's still form and dragged him into a small alcove in the rock. Others forced the women to their feet, and herded them into the alcove with Robart. They were then stripped of all their belongings, and forced to strip down to their small clothes. Several more creatures pushed a gate of woven thick branches across the alcove, and then rolled a small boulder in front, effectively sealing them in. The sides of the alcove overhung two spans above, so they would not be able to climb their way out. Besides, their hands and elbows were still tied behind them.
Their stuff was put in a pile near a fire to one side, and the leader started sorting through it. He found Celia's amulet, with its glowing azure stone, and was fascinated by it. He turned it this way and that, staring at it from every angle before finally putting it around his neck with his necklace of ears. One of the stick creatures was rummaging through the other side of the pile and brought forth the violet magestone from the sky skiff. The glowing stone lit up that side of the ravine, casting weird shadows and overpowering the firelight from the campfires.
The leader noticed the creature holding the stone and reached over and took the stone away, smacking the creature in the head. He then turned and returned to his cave, leaving the rest of the items to the stick creatures. They rummaged through all their stuff, tossing it about as they pulled it out of various pockets and packs. One tried to lift Robart's sword, and just about dropped it on another, nearly slicing him in two. It must have taken several of them to bring that back to camp.
Hoyle watched it all quietly as he tried to formulate a plan to rescue the others. There appeared to be only two ways into the ravine that he could see, and once into the ravine, there was not a lot of cover. Apparently these creatures just lived and slept out in the open. He guessed that with bark-like skin, there probably was not much need for shelter.
The camp began to settle down as the moon was just setting behind the mountains in the west and Hoyle had the beginnings of a plan. His choice was taken away from him, however, as he felt two spear points poking into his back. He carefully turned around to chittering of several stick creatures as they prodded him repeatedly with their spears. One reached forward to relieve him of his rapier, but on instinct he turned his hip away and kicked out at the chest-high creature, knocking it back several feet into his companions. Seeing his chance, he turned and ran along the side of the ravine in the near darkness, trying to find a way down to his companions. Loud screeching came from behind as the creatures untangled themselves and began to chase after.
A stick spear came streaking past his shoulder as he frantically looked for a way down into the ravine. Then he saw his chance as he could just make out a break in the trees ahead, and what looked to be a toppled trunk of an ancient woshyr tree. He veered for the gap in the trees as several more spears missed him to each side. He chanced a glance back and saw them chasing, their short legs managing to move at an amazing speed, and regardless of the fact that he had a much longer stride, they were catching up to him.
Reaching the break in the trees, he dove, arms outstretched for the toppled tree. Just at that moment, he felt a spear pierce his left calf in a shallow, but painful wound. He still managed to snag the toppled tree and swing around it, powering his legs into the swing which dislodged the spear, the swing tossing him forward in a long arc over the small creek to the other side of the narrow ravine. As he landed however, his left leg buckled from his wound and he dropped to his side in the gravel. He managed to get himself to his feet and started to work up the ravine, back to where his friends were. Soon the alarm was up in the camp, causing some of the creatures to flee, while others came at him with all sorts of simple weapons - simple, but no less deadly.
Hoyle drew his rapier and stiletto, and limped towards the stick creatures assembling to attack him. He could feel blood pooling in his boot, and knew he had to get to his friends fast or he might soon be dead. The spears and clubs ahead of him did not give him pause. He moved as quickly as he could, and when they charged him, he twisted and turned, slicing through stick spears with his rapier, then through a club handles with his stiletto. Every once in a while, he would kick out with his wounded leg, knocking one or two of them back, gaining some precious space. Finally he was through them, near the main fire, most of the creatures backing away now weaponless.
He edged towards the cage holding his friends, facing the stick creatures, looming over them in actuality. They all stayed back a span or more, realizing how effective his weapons were compared to theirs. He faked a lunge towards them, causing a weird gasping noise as the creatures flinched backwards. Hoyle smirked.
"I don't know if you can understand me, but if you can, I am just going to collect my friends and leave." He could not read the expressions on their weird faces, but they seemed to grasp the situation.
Suddenly he heard a noise behind him, and lunged for the side, but even with his instincts kicking in, his ankles were suddenly bound as a set of bolas wound around them causing him to land hard on the ground, dropping his rapier, which skittered out of reach. He looked back as the leader that he had seen earlier pulled on the rope tied to the bolas, dragging him across the gravel and even further away from his weapon. He reached down to the rope with the stiletto he still grasped, but the leader was quicker, and took three quick strides and smashed his club into the side of Hoyle's head.
Just before he passed out, he heard in a growling voice, "I understand. No, you not taking friends."
---o---
Hoyle awoke while it was still dark, stripped to his small clothes, his body shivering in the chilly night air. His body was wracked with pain; his arms bound the same as his companions, and the wrists, and at the elbows. His ankles were also tied.
He looked up to see Valena and Salrissa watching him in the faint firelight from their positions against the rock wall. Somehow they had managed to get themselves upright to a
seated position. Celia was still lying on her side, facing away from him weeping quietly. Robart still lay where they threw him. Unconscious or dead, he couldn't tell.
"About time you showed up, though I was hoping more for a rescue scenario," Salrissa stated wryly.
"This is a rescue, couldn't you tell?" Hoyle bantered back, half heartedly, his head still ringing from the blow. He tried his bindings, but they were as tight as he could get them. He noticed movement as he struggled and saw the silhouettes of a bunch of the stick creatures look down from two spans above, spears at the ready, their distinct voices echoing through the darkness. He stopped struggling.
"Is everyone okay? Besides Robart I mean?" Hoyle asked.
"Valena and I are fine, as is Celia physically, though it appears she's in some sort of trance, as we haven't been able to wake her up. Robart was bludgeoned unconscious, and hasn't stirred since. They have taken all our things, including Celia's amulet and the large magestone and we are all in our small clothes." Salrissa shifted slightly, showing Hoyle that she had managed to cut her bindings and was just keeping her hands behind her back to fool their captors.
Hoyle was encouraged; they were not as bad off as he thought.
Chapter 24
Celia was awoken from the dream of her Choosing Day by weird screams and chittering sounds to find their group surrounded by dozens of craglings. She still felt the presence of the magestone in her mind, noticing that her hand had closed around it while sleeping, but shook off the remnants of the dream as she stood, crying out "Cravash!" and aiming her motes of light at several of the stick-like creatures.
The motes impacted on the bark-like skin of several, and she could smell burning wood, one cragling squealed, but the other craglings barely flinched. One poked her in the back with a sharpened stick and another smacked on the head with the side if his, causing her to cry out. She let go of her Campfire spell, forcing it to smother the flames, hoping the instant darkness would disorient their attackers. As her own eyes adjusted, she could see the craglings' glowing red eyes in the dark, lending credence to the speculation that they could see in the dark.
Stones Unbound (The Magestone Chronicles Book 1) Page 24
