Neither really noticed how bright the druid’s magic-dampening globes had become. Neither mind really registered when Trestan collapsed out of exhaustion.
* * * * *
Deep into the night, Katressa Bilil held her lover closely in her arms. She worried for his health after using that miracle, but it seemed all he needed was rest. He got plenty of peace and quiet from inside the prison cage. Montanya and Sondra had backed to opposite corners without a word to anyone since the miracle had ended. The two women fell into a fitful sleep after staring out from the bars for a long time. Whatever Trestan had done, it took the fight out of both.
Cat’s hands rubbed his muscles as he lay in her embrace. Sometimes she couldn’t help but lean over and place a gentle kiss atop his head. No matter how she worried about their future, she knew Trestan was the most important thing in her life.
Their stay at the elves’ city reminded Katressa of all that separated her from that race. Neither fully human nor elf, she could not settle into either culture. Her home village tolerated her out of respect for her father. Even after his death, that respect followed his daughter despite how others saw her bloodline. These elves only saw her human side subverting the fine elf blood. It seemed that among foreign elves she might always be an outcast.
As Cat ran her nimble fingers through Trestan’s thick, dark hair, she realized how unfairly she had treated him. At times she put distance between them over her fears about his aging. Yet, among these people, Cat saw her feelings from a different perspective. If an elf lord actually took an interest in her, she would not have to worry about watching him grow old and die. Instead, she might be the one shunned because he would not like to see her grow old and tend a frail woman in her last century. Cat knew that elves, as a race, would not be very cordial to her over her human blood. She would always be an inferior minority.
It brought pain to her knowing others would treat her that way, yet she realized that in subtle ways she may have acted the same around her beloved. He moved closer to her heart that she had dared to dream any man would come…and yet her doubts had formed a wall that kept him from approaching closer.
She felt him stir. Looking down, she saw his eyes open. He looked tired, but his eyes wandered outward from their prison with curiosity. “It is so beautiful out here, Cat.”
Cat glanced out of the cell, noting the faerie lights, elevated walkways, and the gardens below. Somewhere, the sweetest music was being played for approving ears to enjoy. Trestan was enjoying the sights and sounds as he continued. “What a paradise they have out here. It must make you feel that you miss home.”
Cat’s feelings had been nothing of the sort. She sighed as she spoke. “It may be beautiful, but I had not noticed. This is far from any place I would call home, faunlessa.”
Trestan glanced up into her eyes, seeing a hint of tears. Cat’s hair bore many tangles from their experience. He offered a straightforward observation. “You have been treated badly since we came here. I wonder what they said to you that you didn’t translate?”
The half-elf shrugged off the question as if it didn’t matter. “We have all been treated poorly here. We are prisoners.”
She hoped he would pry no more. His eyes were looking up to her, but she preoccupied herself by staring out at the city.
“What does agora mean?”
He likely felt all her muscles go tense as he spoke the word. She unconsciously bit her lip, offering no immediate response.
“If I offended or hurt you,” Trestan whispered, “I am sorry.”
“Nay, it’s not you.” Cat sighed. “Can you do a favor for me, Trestan? Let me never again hear that word from those wonderful lips of yours.”
Trestan nodded. After a moment of silence deciding how she should answer, she said, “Agora’Seelie is a name given to those broken from the traditional elf race by being a product of a relationship in which only one parent was an elf. Elves use the short version as an insult to those who are…half-breeds such as myself. It is a very hurtful racial insult. I suppose I’m an adult and shouldn’t be bothered by rude names, yet this word has been branded on me since childhood. As if my blood was a betrayal to their race.”
Trestan reached up and slid a hand behind her neck. He started massaging her muscles. She could trust Trestan to know where to touch her so that all her cares seemed to melt away. “I will never bring it up again, Cat. If another elf uses that word on you, I can’t promise to refrain from knocking them from their feet.”
Cat giggled, “Don’t make fights for me my love; however, if you do, please win them.”
Trestan worried that Cat wasn’t getting much sleep while worrying over him. At his urging, they settled into a different position where they could comfortably fall asleep entwined in an embrace.
As comfortable as possible in a cage packed with people who hadn’t bathed in days.
* * * * *
In the morning, the companions were roused in short order, by the multitude of conversations or by the hands of their fellow travelers. Several captors, warrior and druid, gathered near their cell in anxious discussions. Even many normal citizens lingered on the nearby walkways, raised voices talking over one another. Even with no understanding of the elf language, the companions could feel tension behind the voices. They rubbed sleepy eyes even as a misty morning rain brought a cold chill. On such a dreary morning they could only guess as to why so many agitated elves lurked around their imprisonment.
They all looked to Cat for an explanation. She looked from native to native. The elves of Serud’Thanil seemed to talk around the adventurers instead of addressing them directly. It took several seconds of uncertainty for Cat to filter out the numerous voices.
The half-elf looked to Trestan, her eyebrows raised in surprise. “Revwar and his band escaped sometime during the night.”
“What?”
“Escaped?”
“But they didn’t get away, did they?”
The companions began raising as much of an uproar as the elves outside. Cat did her best to explain the details as she overheard them. “The cage was empty this morning…the door appeared forced open by magic after the removal of several druid spheres…they were supposed to be executed this day! The elves are searching…they want blood.”
More than one companion wore a look of worry at the news of the death sentence. They wondered how their own fate would turn out among this strange culture. As Cat continued to translate pieces of information, Montanya and Lindon observed the cage that had once held their opponents. Elves swarmed the cage and the walkways around it, but they saw no sign of their quarry. Montanya slammed a fist against the unyielding caleocht wood. Once again, despite all her training, a wooden cage had kept her from taking action.
Lindon admonished her, “Don’t let your anger blind you. You won’t do your hand any good fighting a tree. Focus on the present if we are to get out of here alive.”
Beside Cat, Abriana’s champion mused out loud, “Now they will be free to pursue the relics, and with a head start, while our fate remains uncertain.”
Cat eavesdropped and translated all the clues the elves freely discussed. Citizens showed no concern about being overheard by the half-blood. Cassyli forced his way through the crowded walkways. The spear-wielding scout again wore flowery patterns on his tunic, yet his eyes belied a serious tone.
“Did my brother come by this cell last night?” He asked. At Cat’s look of confusion, he added, “Foyren. Dark hair, a scar across one eyebrow, a necklace of animal bones.”
Cat recognized the name from the scattered elf conversations. “Nay, but I heard others here talking about him.”
Cassyli glanced at his fellow citizens in alarm, “What did they say?”
“A few said that he sent away some of the guards around the other cell last night, before the other party went missing.”
The elf scout’s first response was to yell at his fellow people that they were discussing escape information within e
arshot of the half-elf and her friends. Cassyli’s outraged shout silenced most of the nearby elves as they found a better hold on their tongues. The scout stressed to his people that any news should not be openly discussed in the presence of other prisoners. Cat couldn’t gauge his personal reaction to his brother’s actions.
Once the conversations abated around the companions, a new disturbance reached their ears. Shouts originated from the foggy ground. The rainfall and mist hindered their vision, yet they could glimpse shadows moving around. Even the elves around the prison cage paused to listen.
Cat whispered a translation in answer to her companions’ unasked questions. “The elf warriors on the ground are shouting at someone, asking them to stop.”
“Shouting at whom?” Sondra asked, peering through the interwoven caleocht branches.
Her answer came soon enough. The first sign of the unwanted trespasser came as a steady thump-thump. It could have been mistaken for a drum beat, or a series of boulders landing on the ground. Two great legs stomped footprints into the muddy ground as they steadily moved past the shouting elves. The rain and mist seemed to play tricks on the minds of the companions until they realized there was a massive being moving closer. Branches snapped as the creature shrugged past narrow spaces.
The humanoid giant moved determinedly, guided by some secret desire. An unkempt mass of long hair spilled down the sides of a giant face down a dangling beard. Its crusty and thick skin resembled the bark of an old oak. Animal hides covered scarce portions of its bulk, revealing some sense of intelligence and decency. The creature had long arms, one of which dragged a tree trunk as a club. Armed elf warriors flanked the giant’s path, unwilling to force a confrontation.
Sondra noticed a number of elves shying away from the monster. “Why aren’t they attacking it if it isn’t listening to them?”
The half-elf indicated the monstrous figure with a tilt of her angular chin, “That is a firbholg. It is one of the ‘gentle giants’ of the woods. They tend to be peaceful and live in harmony with the elves and nature. Elves won’t attack it unless they have good reason to do so.” Cat tilted her head, “But it isn’t acting natural.”
“What do you mean?” Asked Lindon, as he watched its approach.”
“Trees bend around the path of a firbholg. He shouldn’t need to break limbs as he passes.”
Trestan watched the beast sniff the air. It let out a roaring challenge as it approached. “They may have good reason to defend themselves in a moment. That firbholg looks to crave a fight over something. I can feel its anger, and yet its eyes…there is something not quite right about them.”
Everyone on the walkways watched the creature below as it turned its head skyward. The dark orbs, sunk into clefts under thick eyebrows, focused on the prisoners. Some of the elves decided to put some distance between themselves and the giant. For the companions, there was nowhere to go. They had some relief in that the creature could not reach their cage.
Lindon gasped as he met the creature’s stare. The minstrel noted the emptiness in those eyes despite the anger that carved the face. The firbholg looked at them through a fog of uncertainty. It wasn’t hard for Lindon to recall where he’d seen that look before.
“It is under a hypnotic enchantment.” The minstrel explained. “I have seen the same reflection in the eyes of those whom Jentan charmed.”
“Impossible!” Sondra exclaimed. Yet as the monster roared up at them she hastily changed her opinion. “Or maybe not. Well, at least it can’t reach us up here.”
The tree trunk that served the creature as a great club collided with a portion of the caleocht tree. It didn’t extend long enough to touch the companions’ prison; nevertheless, it rattled the tree. The citizens of Serud’Thanil fled the area in panic. Elf warriors moved to assist others. None of them dared to attack the firbholg as yet, though they continued shouting at it.
Taking a more direct approach, the firbholg dropped its club and grasped mighty arms around the base of the tree. The companions stumbled for balance as the giant attempted to shake the caleocht trunk. Leaves and branches began to snap and walkways shook violently. At least one elf slipped on the wet walkway and tumbled to the forest floor.
When the tree finally stopped shaking, the companions braced themselves against the interwoven branches. Montanya scowled, “He doesn’t need to reach us as long as he can bring the tree down to where he is.”
“What is he doing now?” Sondra asked from a prone position.
Trestan and Cat both looked down to find the answer to that same question. Without having time to reply, both hastily released their hold on the branches and jumped away. The others saw a large shadow fly at them through the misty rain. It was a boulder large enough that a halfling could have stretched out and lounged on it. The thrown missile blasted through the cell with enough force to turn hardened caleocht branches into splinters.
CHAPTER 27 “The Raging Firbholg”
Montanya felt the force of the thrown missile send her reeling across the prison. Cracked branches fell about her head as she raised her arms for protection. She stumbled and fell, realizing only too late that the ruined cell had lost much of its wooden lattice. Her arms reached desperately to grasp something before she fell. She glimpsed Sondra in a precarious position next to the edge. The acolyte of Ganden reached one arm to grab Montanya, though the healer hung on by a slim handhold. Sondra clutched Montanya’s tan tunic. For the briefest of moments Montanya thought she was saved. The sudden weight jerked Sondra’s other arm more than the woman could handle.
Momentum ripped both women from the remains of the broken cell, tumbling into a long fall to the ground below. Montanya focused on her training as she turned her body to control her fall. She had never before put her techniques into practice from such a height. At some point a leafy branch slapped at her. She heard a noise from Sondra as the young cleric encountered the same branch on her way down. Montanya kicked at a second branch, snapping it. She delivered a double-hand-slap to another, further slowing her descent. Just before the ground met them, Montanya kicked outward from the trunk of the tree. Her aim brought her rolling on a muddy slope, yet the impact rattled her whole body.
Montanya lay in quiet. Misty rain fell down on her, filling mud puddles nearby. She was waiting to see if she would black out or be able to take a deep breath. It took time to recover from the shock. Her body had been jarred badly, yet she wasn’t unconscious and she could breathe. Her ribs hurt, her legs hurt, and one shoulder burned. She willed herself past the moment, having endured pain most of her life. Montanya rose from the mud and glanced around.
Elves were running in random directions, all ignoring her. Debris still rained down from above. Montanya didn’t worry as much about the fall once she realized that she was now within easy reach of the firbholg. The creature roared nearby, though its attention fixed on the broken cell. From here, the giant humanoid appeared ten times as scary. Montanya wanted to use her remaining strength to run but a nearby groan interrupted her thoughts. Sondra had fared worse in the fall, landing on a bush that caused new injuries even as it lessened her overall impact. Breath rattled from her battered lungs in a wheeze.
Montanya wanted nothing more than to run from the firbholg and pursue the halfling thief while she had the chance. Her legs betrayed her, staggering to Sondra’s side instead. The chiaso pulled the woman off of broken branches, eliciting a wail of pain. Montanya hushed her right away, concerned about the firbholg nearby.
“Lie still, that giant is near. I can try and find you some help.” Montanya whispered.
She wasn’t sure how much Sondra understood her words. Blood matted the blonde hair. Even as Sondra looked about, redness colored one eye.
Sondra spoke quietly, saying only, “Dear Ganden…” though she repeated those words a few times.
Montanya thought Sondra was just speaking for the sake of mercy before she lost consciousness. Sondra surprised the chiaso by uttering a healing prayer. The
blood in her hair flaked away as the redness disappeared from her eyes. She visibly improved as the miracle mended her body. The healer was able to take in several deep breaths. She still wore blood and bruises, but appeared visibly stronger.
The chiaso revealed more surprise than the cleric as Sondra sat up without a grunt of pain. “Praise Ganden!” Sondra said. The cleric then turned to Montanya, examining her with a critical eye. “Allow me to take care of you. I can sense your broken ribs.”
* * * * *
Cassyli was caught in a swarm of his fellow citizens as they ran scared from the volatile giant. The elf had spear in hand, the turtle shell shield on his other arm, yet he knew they would be only a nuisance to a firbholg. He saw many of the warriors below holding kittanes ready in self-defense, yet those wooden war clubs were also an ineffective weapon. Many elf archers lined the walkways, impeded by the flow of fleeing folk, yet their arrows would need to hit the creature in force to get past the tough skin and hamper it. Cassyli knew that the whieu pole-swords could cut the creature easily, yet there were few of them nearby. The druids might be their only hope of stopping the rampage.
Feeling helpless for his part, it occurred to Cassyli that there was a weapon nearby which he could wield effectively against the firbholg. He started to run with the crowd on the wet walkway. His goal was to get to the home of his mother, Naef’ad Illwinu, and borrow the captives’ elvish sword.
The Earthrin Stones 2 of 3: Trials of Faith Page 42
