by Levi Samuel
The others chirped and barked, pointing and criticizing the defeated one.
Inyalia watched through her fingers, refusing to move. She was curious as to what they were saying. Why were they fighting? And how did it end so quickly? Among these questions, she realized the end result needed no explanation. It seemed social bullying was the same regardless of species or intelligence. Realizing the excitement was over for the moment, she returned to her plan. It would work, so long as they didn’t know she was awake. She hoped as much anyway.
Baal rolled to his back, his eyes slowly opening.
Seeing her brother move, Inyalia concealed herself as best she could. She needed to get his attention before he made too much commotion. Remaining out of thought was crucial to her plan. Subtly waving, Inyalia whispered a series of short, fluctuating buzzes. It was something they’d tried a few cycles prior as a means of communicating without words. It’d served its purpose, keeping Vera out of their business, but had ultimately proved to be a waste of time. Not only did Vera tell on them anyway, which ruined their plan, but there was no way to rapidly distinguish the various sounds needed for complete conversation. And spacious pauses only went so far.
Hearing the noise, Baal’s eyes shot open. He sat up, looking around. Seeing Inyalia, it took a moment to register what she was attempting. Between the broken language they’d created and her gestures, he believed he understood. Crouching low, he pressed his head against the side of the cage, waiting to hear what Inyalia’s plan was.
Doing likewise, Inyalia spoke just over a whisper, frequently looking to ensure they weren’t noticed. If these creatures were capable of hearing as well as elves, there was little chance. But they hadn’t noticed her yet. She suspected it was safe. “I’ve counted eight so far, my bow is right over there." She gestured to the pile between them. "I don’t know what they’re planning, but they’ve shown some aggression between one another. I think we can use that to our advantage. If we can get them to fight, it may provide the distraction we need to escape.”
"I’m so hungry, Inyalia. How long have we been here?" Baal didn’t look so good. He was weak and sweating profusely.
"I don’t know. I’ve been awake for about twenty minutes. I don't know how long we were out. But it you can keep it together long enough for us to get out, I promise I’ll give you whatever you want. Now, do you have any ideas on how we can start a fight?"
Baal paused, considering her question. "I’ll do my best. But I don’t think there’s anything you can give me that I don’t already have. Maybe, if you wanted to do my chores for a week?”
Inyalia smiled. If they got out of here, she’d gladly do whatever chores she could. For a short time anyway. They were chores after all. “Done.”
A weak smile came to Baal’s lips. Why was he so shaky? He hadn’t been this bad since the time they snuck into the millhouse to swim in the grain silo. Between the heat and excitement, not to mention being chased away by the miller himself, he’d nearly collapsed from exhaustion. Fortunately, the shakes went away after his mother gave him a peach. If only he had one now. Returning to the present, Baal considered the creatures. If they were aggressive toward each other, starting a fight shouldn’t be that hard. They simply had to direct resentment. A plan coming to mind, he compiled a list of resources. There wasn’t much they could reach, but there were plenty of small rocks lying around. They wouldn’t do much damage, short of hitting one in the eye, but they were perfect for his purposes. “Okay, so—." Baal quickly ran through the plan, ensuring she understood every detail. The hard part was going to be opening their cages without notice, but that was where he came in.
Inyalia gathered a handful of pebbles, varying in size and shape. She was a better aim, and in their current predicament, she was also stronger. Lining them in order, Inyalia turned her attention to Baal. She’d fulfilled her part of this step. It was up to him now.
Keeping watch on their captors, Baal twisted his fingers through the small opening, reaching his destination. A part of him wished the cages had actual locks. It would have made escape much easier. As it were, it was just a spring-loaded latch that held them shut. These were likely used for trapping animals, if he had to guess. Pressing his hand into the metal, he strained against the release rod. The edge of the lattice was cutting into his hand but he couldn’t give up. Not yet. He was almost there. Getting his fingers around the release, he pushed. The handle raised and his cage door came open. Sighing his relief, he held it closed. Now was the hard part.
Inyalia held her breath, watching Baal slowly open his cage. She desperately hoped the hinges didn’t squeak. On edge, waiting at the base of her tiny cell, her attention jumped from the dog-men to her brother. They didn’t seem to pay any mind to the cages or their prisoners. That was a good thing.
Baal opened the door just enough to squeeze out. Grabbing Inyalia’s bow and quiver, he slid it beside her cage and went to work on the door. Now that he had full use of his hands, it came open with ease.
Inyalia took hold of the door, keeping it from latching again. She waited for Baal to return to his cell and lay down. It was all happening so fast. And with any luck, the rest would flow just the same. Seeing Baal in position, their captors still unaware, Inyalia grabbed the first of her lineup and slowly pushed the door open. She set the rock in its path so it could close without latching. Grabbing the second rock, she took aim and released.
The small missile sailed across the cavern, disappearing through the flickering flames. Out the other side, it struck the alienated creature in the top of its head. It roared, grabbing its tomahawk and jumping up.
The others chirped in acknowledgment. It seemed they were finding humor in its actions. Seeing no threat, they returned their attention to the larger one that seemed to be their leader.
Inyalia watched through the mostly closed door, her head resting on her arm. She waited for it to finish its search and return to its seat.
The creature paced back and forth, rubbing the fresh knot. Unable to find where the rock had come from, it sat down, returning its attention to the roasted animal charring within the flame.
Cautiously, Inyalia sat up, securing another rock. It was a little smaller than the last, but that was okay. The purpose was not to kill, or even to wound for that matter. At least not yet. This was all intended to escalate their aggressions toward one another. But it all depended on subtlety. Opening the door, Inyalia cast the second stone. It hit the same creature, this time in the snout. The force knocked it from its seat and it fell backward, triggering excitement from the others.
Inyalia had to suppress a giggle. It was funny to watch, especially since they didn’t know what was happening.
The dog-man rolled to its paws, searching its surroundings. The chides of the others were suspiciously suspect. Roaring its anger, barking at its tormentors, it picked up the rock and showed it to them. This did little more than instigate them further. Clearly infuriated, and unable to challenge the pack, it circled the fire and took position in another spot. A spot where it could see the lot of them.
That was what Inyalia was waiting for. Baal had planned it out perfectly, especially after she’d recounted the previous interaction she’d witnessed. Stifling a laugh, she grabbed the last rock. This one was bigger than the others, but it fit perfectly in the palm of her hand. Carefully, she pressed through the door and took aim.
The rock flew forth, striking its target in the back of the head. That was crucial. She’d instigated the runt of the pack. Now it was time to start the fight.
The larger creature, the one with the driftwood club, roar in pain and grabbed the back of its head. Looking around, it found its target, sitting by itself on the near side of the firepit. Bulking its mass, it charged, bringing the weapon down. It struck the weaker creature in the side, sending it toppling over.
In turn, it picked itself up, the makeshift tomahawk in hand and ready to go.
Inyalia watched the creatures circle around one another
, the fight ensuing. She grabbed her last rock, chucking it at one of the spectators.
It barked and joined the mix. Within moments, the entire pack was engaged in a brawl.
Now was their chance. Inyalia squeezed out of her cage, slinging her quiver. Only half of her arrows remained, but with luck, that was enough. “Come on, Baal.”
Rolling to his knees, he crawled out and took position beside his sister. Everything had gone according to plan. All that was left was the escape. Making his way around Inyalia, Baal led the way. Crossing behind the various piles of junk, he found an old walking stick. It wasn’t good for much else, but he needed all the support he could get. Moving as quick as his body would allow, he approached the exit.
Inyalia followed close behind her brother. He was moving slower than usual. Keeping watch on the fight, a pair of dark, featureless eyes fell upon them. Inyalia knew they’d been seen. Before it could alert the others, she released her arrow. It struck the creature in the snout, exiting the back of its head. It fell into the pile of scrapping beasts and disappeared. “We have to move now!” Inyalia warned as loud as she dared.
Baal and Inyalia ran as fast as they could. The light was fading, their vision with it. A howling roar echoed behind them. One became two. And a moment later, the individual cries became a single mass. Whether it was rage, confusion, or pain, they couldn’t tell. Either way, it meant their escape had been discovered. Afraid to stop, they continued into the black.
“Baal, do you still have that stick?” Inyalia asked, panting through labored breaths.
“Yes.”
“Do we have time to make a torch?”
“Not yet. I’m feeling for the wall. Let’s go a while further. We’ll listen for movement. If we don’t hear anything, we’ll try then.”
“Okay.”
Baal drug the bottom of the stick against the wall as a guide. He could hear Inyalia behind him. They ran for what felt like hours, though in truth it was maybe twenty minutes. Slowing his already exhausted pace, he tried to listen past the beating of his heart and ragged combination of breaths.
Hearing the change in footfalls, Inyalia came to a stop. She was out of breath, trying to listen. It was difficult to hear anything, but she was fairly certain they were alone. If the creatures were still pursuing, they were doing so quietly.
“I think we’re alone. My shirt is too muddy to burn, plus I already tore as much as I can without making it too short. Yours didn’t look so bad.” Baal suggested, preparing his stick for the cloth.
Nodding her agreement, Inyalia took the head of her arrow and started sawing the hem of her tunic. It tore more than cut, but she had a decent section of linen in a fairly short time. Handing the torn cloth to Baal, she waited for the sparks to ignite.
Baal made several passes around his crude staff and tied the ribbon off. He was glad the creatures hadn’t searched him. He still had his dagger in the waist of his breeches, and his flint remained in his pocket. Striking it, the sparks danced across the lapping cloth. The clinging dirt made it hard to light, but finally, with the help of his breath, a small flame came into existence. Slowly, it spread across the surface, engulfing the entire cloth. As It grew, more of their surroundings came into view.
"Now that we can see where were going, maybe we can get out of here. Dad will want to know about these things." Inyalia searched the floor, keeping watch for any tracks that could belong to them. If she could pick up that trail, they could follow it back to the surface.
The pair traveled at a brisk pace, following a set of footprints that could have been theirs. Another hour passed before a gust of fresh air hit them, threatening to extinguish the nearly burnt-out torch. Finally, they found the surface. It was dark. Only a partial moon provided any kind of light. But that was enough. Looking around the opening, this wasn’t where they’d entered.
Inyalia glanced around, gathering her bearings. “If that way is west, we’ll eventually hit the cliffs. From there we should be able to tell if we need to go north or south.”
Baal staggered against his stick. Only a few embers remained where the cloth had burned away. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could go. He was so hungry, so weak. Swaying against the breeze, he stared blankly at his sister. “Do what you need.” Even the act of talking exhausted him.
Seeing the hazy glaze in her brother’s eyes, Inyalia threw his arm over her shoulder and guided him up the steep incline, to level ground. She was hungry and in desperate need of water, but he seemed to need it more. Orienting herself, she led him west.
They walked for nearly a mile before the first sign of civilization presented itself. A dirt road cut through the land, separating the sea of grass and trees.
Inyalia recognized it instantly. In fact, she knew this patch of road. They were less than a quarter mile from the boundary fence they’d jumped what seemed like a lifetime ago. They finally made it. They were almost home.
The snap of a twig drew Inyalia’s attention to the right. A wall of trees blocked out all sight beyond the dark threshold. Releasing her brother, she drew an arrow and took aim on the forest’s edge. Whatever foul creature sought to prevent their return this night was going to learn a lesson in pain. She was Inyalia Highlor, daughter of Kalen Highlor, Ranger-General of Trendensil, and she was not to be trifled with!
A familiar voice broke the silence. "Baal, Inyalia, where the hell have you two been? Your mother and I have been worried sick!” Kalen rushed from the shadows, stepping into the moonlight. Dropping to his knees at the edge of the road, he wrapped his arms around the pair and pulled them tight. "I’ve had the entire corps searching for you!"
Inyalia was nearly in tears. She tried to explain what had happened, but the sobs distorted her words beyond recognition.
Baal was too exhausted to speak. He simply slouched in his father’s embrace.
Wrapping his arms around his children, Kalen pulled them close. "It’s okay. Calm yourselves and tell me what happened.”
Managing to steel herself, Inyalia wiped her nose on the muck covered sleeve of her tunic. “We got lost in a cave. Then some dog creatures found us. They locked us in a cage.” Her tears were beginning to return. Sniffing once again, she continued. “We managed to trick them and escape.”
Kalen held them tight. “It’s okay. I’m here now. Let’s get you home and fed. I’ll take care of it in the morning.” Lifting the both of them, he carried his children toward their home.
Chapter III
A Ranger’s Call
Crickets chirped in the distance, playing their song for all the world to hear. Exhaling softly, Inyalia pulled the thick blanket around her. She rolled to face the window, snuggling into the soft quilt. It provided just enough warmth in the cool autumn air to keep her comfortable throughout the night. Her eyes fell upon the full glowing moon, glistening just over the horizon. Its soft glow filled her bedroom. How she longed for the calm it usually bestowed upon her. Unfortunately, this night was different. The serenity would not come. This was the end of her childhood, the last of her thirteenth cycle. Tomorrow promised the future. It was the day she’d longed to reach. And she wasn’t at all ready for it.
Fueled by excitement and fear, she was too anxious to sleep. Entering her fourteenth cycle meant a great many things. She could engage in politics. She could marry if so desired. She could establish residence in any realm. But most of all, it meant she was finally able to join the Rangers Corps. Inyalia was still a youngling by elven standard, but by law she was now an adult. All those cycles of fantasy and adventure were about to come to fruition. Provided she passed her trials.
A cycle prior, Baal had joined the corps. Inyalia missed seeing him every day, but such was the life of a ranger. He’d been assigned to the Eighty-Fifth Company, a division of the Second Battalion. His days were filled with patrolling Evergrove, one of the smaller baronies east of Ashamere. With his new duties, he returned home about once a month. Inyalia was always so excited to see him. But it wasn’t unt
il his last visit that she truly started pressing for answers. She’d begged him to give her the slightest details of the trials, but he’d remained tight-lipped. His only commentary was, it was something she’d never forget.
The trials couldn’t be that hard, she assured herself. Though she wasn’t sure she believed it. Baal had been gone for almost three months during his. How much of that had been the trials, she couldn’t say. Inyalia had spent cycles preparing for this moment. And now that it was finally upon her, she didn’t know if she was ready. But Baal, and every ranger before him, had made it through. With such odds, how could she fail?
Inyalia closed her eyes, thinking of the future. They opened a short moment later with morning’s first light upon her face. Sighing heavily, she sat up and threw the blanket away from her. She hadn’t slept a wink. There was too much on her mind.
Getting to her feet, Inyalia knocked the wrinkles out of her clothes and grabbed her pack. She’d made certain everything was ready to go the night before. Slinging her quiver, along with the improved bow she’d made, over her shoulder, Inyalia headed for the door. Dragon Sanctum was half a day’s travel by horse. By foot, she’d reach it just before nightfall. With any luck, her nerves would settle by then. And if they didn’t, things were going to be fairly interesting for the foreseeable future.
Inyalia stepped into the hall that ran the width of the upper floor. Vera’s room rested between hers and the stairs. The now vacant bedrooms of her brothers were beyond that. Turning, Inyalia raced down the wooden staircase, skipping the steps two at a time. Miscalculating the final few, she crashed into the wall at their base for what had to have been the thousandth time. She didn’t have to hear the words to know what her mother said. It was always the same, or some variant thereof.
Turning the corner to enter the kitchen, Inyalia found her mother standing over the stove. She was casually stirring a pot, humming to herself. An empty plate rested before the chair Inyalia had deemed as hers. As it stood, each of her family had a preferred seat, though the majority of the chairs remained empty these days. Hers was likely to join the ranks once she stepped out the door.
