by RG Long
With those last words, he disappeared up the stairs and out of sight. Jurrin was looking from Tory to Gorplin and Felecia with big eyes, concern filling his face. The prospect of being sold was obviously something he was dreading. Gorplin didn't take too kindly to the idea himself. Felecia sat down with a sigh.
It was a good thing too.
The cannonball that crashed through the side of the ship would have taken off her head had she not moved at that exact moment.
6: Girl, Bear and Wolf
A gentle breeze blew through the trees of the northern edge of the forest. With the wind came the smell of the sea, weaving its way in-between the trunks of trees whose roots ran deep and whose ancestors were the trees of legend. The woods were full of elves, more as of late.
Those who regarded the woods as sacred were the Wood Walkers. No blade of grass was trodden on without great care.
The small group that was slowly making their way south, however, was one of the strangest trios that had trekked through the lands of the Wood Walkers. An elf who wore shining armor rode through the forest on a bear that was also covered in metal plates. Dark eyes peered out from behind his helmet and darker hair hung loose behind him. Walking behind him, not making a sound, was a short petite woman who, despite her small stature, was strong and agile. She was beautiful, but behind her beauty she hid many secrets. The blade she held in her hand had ended the lives of many. Some of these deaths were for money, others were out of necessity. Blume Dearcrest had never really liked the assassin all that much.
Blume was a sixteen-year-old girl who was gifted in the art of Speaking, causing a magic rock called Rimstone to bend to her will and cause the very elements around her to change. This, at one point, was her greatest joy. She now, however, found that the art had left her. No matter how hard she tried, she could not conjure the magic out of herself or the green rock that was held in place in an amulet around her neck.
In a single file line, the three of them headed south.
For several days, they had been tracking a party of elves who were not Wood Walkers and who cared very little for the preservation of the forest. The Empire of Enoth was an ancient civilization who built city after city, using the resources to be found close at hand. They cared little for the ill effects their actions might make, for the wide world of Irradan was at their feet. If ever a city was to fail, another could take its place.
So said Amrolan, the dark-haired elf on top of his bear.
“The noble elves have devastated much of the south,” he said as his bear, Panto, pawed the ground and snuffed at it with his large snout. Blume could hear regret and anger in the elf's voice, though his face was passive.
“For many long years, my kindred have protected this sacred land between man and noble elf. For that same time, our lands have been unsullied by either. But now, there are both here in the forest, and yet they do nothing.”
Panto moved forward, having apparently found a scent to follow. Blume followed without hesitation.
Silverwolf, however, looked down at the ground with suspicion.
“So, we're just going to let the bear sniff them out? I thought elves were good trackers,” she said with disdain.
The bear let out a small growl and looked back. Blume moved out of the way. The assassin didn't flinch.
Instead, she got up and walked towards the other two.
“Fine,” she said, throwing up her hands. “Follow the bear.”
Blume had never really like Silverwolf, though she couldn't put her finger on the reason. She wasn't exactly one who listened to authority all the time, like the strong-willed woman. She yearned for adventure and a small bit of mischief, a trait she knew they shared. But something kept Blume from liking her. Whether it was her stunning beauty, unrestrained tongue, the fact that she killed for money, or some other indistinguishable feature, she didn't know.
But traveling with her was proving frustrating.
“Why can't you trust him?” Blume asked as they walked through trees and over small hills. The land rolled softly over hills and small valleys. The further they walked, however, the flatter the forest became.
“I doubt you'd understand, girl,” Silverwolf replied shortly.
“My name is Blume,” she shot back. “And you know that full well.”
Silverwolf took three quick steps ahead of her and turned, hands on her hips.
“Yes, and you're also fourteen.”
“Sixteen,” Blume corrected her.
“Whatever; you're too small to be out here,” Silverwolf said, eyeing Blume as if she were a toddler. “I don't know what Ealrin was thinking, leaving you by yourself.”
Blume raised an eyebrow.
“I wouldn't have guessed you to be the mothering type,” she said, adjusting the pack on her back that was weighed down with four very important books.
Silverwolf shook her head.
“I'm not looking out for you, if that's what you mean,” she said. “I just thought Ealrin had more brains than that.”
Blume huffed and walked on.
“He has enough to know I can handle myself,” she said as she passed the white-haired woman.
Silverwolf grabbed her arm and held her tightly. Try as she might, Blume could not wiggle free. The next words she heard were whispered and harsh.
“You're a little girl out in the wilderness with two adults who actually know what they're doing. You wander off or get lost and you're on your own. Which would probably mean you'd be dead in a day. And I won't come looking for you, girl.” The last word she emphasized with a sneer and a shove.
Blume stumbled back, but kept her balance despite her heavy pack and the sword that hung from her belt. She looked up at Silverwolf, who was only a head taller than she was. But at this height and with the hard eyes that were staring, she suddenly felt much smaller.
“Don't slow the grown-ups down,” Silverwolf added before turning to follow Amrolan and Panto.
There was no need to walk far.
Elf and bear stood staring at the two of them.
“Should we...continue?” Amrolan asked after an uncomfortable silence.
Silverwolf plowed past them, gaze ahead.
“Ask the girl,” she said without looking back.
Blume was both hurt and offended. How dare Silverwolf say she wouldn't last without others looking after her! Hadn't she been all over Ruyn and the northern part of Irradan?
Well, perhaps she had friends with her on Ruyn. And around Lone Peak.
But she was still hurt. Blume knew she was capable. She had gotten Amrolan to help her, hadn't she? Trotting along behind the two oldest members of their trio, she began to think of ways to prove that, while she was no assassin, she was perfectly able to care for herself in a time of need. She'd show her.
“How far ahead do you think they are?” she asked, catching up to the pair. Panto was moving at a quicker pace now. Blume was having to almost jog to keep up.
“Probably a day or...” Silverwolf began to answer.
“I was asking him,” Blume interrupted. She had recently discovered she hated hearing the woman's voice.
Amrolan answered over Silverwolf's loud groan.
“No more than a half day,” he said. “They are traveling in a large company, while we are but four and can easily make up the time. We ought to see them by tomorrow morning, if not sooner.”
Blume looked up at the elf. His eyes were looking ahead, surveying the path that lay before them.
“Why not take the road?” Blume asked, looking to her right. There was an ancient looking stone street that ran through the forest there. They had consistently walked beside it, but had yet to actually travel on it.
“Because they are taking the road,” the elf answered. “And because I can travel quicker on these paths.”
He looked down at the grass they had trodden and to his bear. Stroking the bear's large neck, he added, “And Panto prefers it.”
The bear let out a snort, then
began to paw the ground again, this time sniffing more deeply.
Silverwolf kept her distance from them. She eyed the bear with a distrust and, to Blume it seemed at least, a small amount of fear. Blume smiled and looked back at the creature. This made her appreciate Panto much more. The bear looked up and gave two quick snorts.
She put out a hand to pet it, but was stopped abruptly. Amrolan had grabbed her hand and made a very quiet shush.
Fearing she had done something to upset them both, Blume tried to get her hand away from the elf's grip, but found he held her fast.
“Hey!” she said, trying to wrench her hand free. “Let go!”
Before she could say another word, Amrolan pulled her up behind him and onto the bear, pack and all.
“Giving joy rides?” Silverwolf scoffed before looking behind them and gasped.
“Fly, Panto!” was Amrolan's answer.
And now Blume could see why.
Silverwolf was nearly running as fast as the bear could go, which Blume found impressive, even if she was still mad at the woman. But when the hills were covered in Wrents, running at full speed was a necessity.
7: The City of Free Elves
Serinde and Erilas walked up a narrow mountain trail with tall rock faces on either side of them. So close were the natural stone walls that they could not walk as they normally did, side by side, but were forced to go single file. They were following an elderly, but surprisingly light footed, elf named Omioor. No matter how difficult the trail became, he took it in stride. Often the sisters were forced to watch him sitting and chuckling to himself, watching them struggle. He offered them little rest, too. As soon as they caught up with him, he was on his feet again.
“I wish he'd slow down!” Serinde complained under her breath, knowing full well the old elf could probably hear her.
Erilas said nothing behind her. She only gasped and panted as they continued along the winding and rocky path.
“How can you keep walking without a break for days upon days?” Serinde continued, stubbing her foot on a rock and letting loose a few choice words.
“Seri!” Erilas said as she heard her sister swear.
Serinde looked back at her through teary eyes, hopping on one foot.
“Well, at least you haven't forgotten how to talk,” she observed as she massaged her hurting toe.
Erilas looked down, resting her back against the stone cliffs. The silence she had kept for two days crept back over her.
“What is it?” Serinde asked, gingerly testing her foot on the ground. “Something's bothering you.”
Her sister tugged absentmindedly at the bandage that still clung to her neck. By fate or by luck, she had only been nicked by a blade that meant to kill her. The wound was still bleeding, though, and required daily dressing changes.
“I just...” she began to say. “Do you think we can trust him?”
Serinde sighed and looked hard at her sister. She wasn't sure of her answer, nor how to put it into words. A voice from in front of them saved her the trouble.
“Come on, lazies!” the old elf called to them. “We can rest after we reach the top of this trail!”
Reaching out a hand to Erilas, Serinde looked down at her. It had been a full week since they had fled Azol. In that city, they had worked in a quarry alongside their father for years upon years. It was in that city that they lost their mother and, more recently, their father to the cruelty of the stone work. Amid the chaos of their departure and the fight that broke out between the natives of the city and the Enoth elves who claimed dominion over them, Serinde wasn't even sure there would be an Azol left if they were ever to return.
But she was holding onto the only reason she could think of now to go back.
With an effort, she climbed up the last few steps of the steep path, pulling her sister behind her. What she saw when they got to the top took her breath away.
Enveloped in dark and craggy mountains sat a pure white city of towers. The twin suns were setting, casting their orange glow over the city and reflecting into the ocean beyond. Many rivers and tributaries ran out to the far waters. On them, many ships sailed, both going to and departing from the city.
“There she is,” Omioor said, standing beside them and looking down at the sight. “Eccott, the soon to be free city.”
“It's beautiful,” Serinde said.
Then she furrowed her brow.
“Wait. ‘Soon to be free?’” she repeated, now that Omioor's statement had actually made its way into her mind. “I thought you said it was already a free city!”
Erilas pointed with her free hand down at the city. Serinde followed her sister's finger to see at the top of the tallest tower, and decorating the walls that surrounded the city, the purple banner of Enoth flew proudly. Serinde found her heart racing and her face growing hot. A deep-seated hatred was welling within her that would not soon leave. Erilas put a hand on her shoulder. She hadn't realized until that moment just how hard she was breathing.
The old elf turned from looking down at the sight below and brought his attention squarely on the two sisters. He took in their faces, each in turn. Serinde thought he lingered just a moment longer on her.
“It will be free,” he said. “Within the week, if all goes as planned.”
He sat himself down on a rock and invited them to do the same.
“Once I finish my tale,” he began, looking back down at the city with pride in his eyes. “Perhaps you'll find reason to trust me.”
This last statement he said as he looked hard at Erilas. She looked down at her feet, not meeting his gaze.
“Out with it,” Serinde said, wanting to take his attention off of Erilas. “If you don't give us a good reason to stay, we'll find our own way out.”
Omioor looked like he was about to have a retort, but sighed instead and nodded.
“Alright,” he agreed. “You get a story and then a decision. But I'll wager you'll be convinced before I'm through.”
He crossed his legs in front of him and pulled out a short pipe from his pouch. It took him awhile to get a spark from his tinder that he produced, but once he had he took a few puffs before looking up at the setting suns.
“Eccott wasn't always under the elves of Enoth,” he began. “The city you see before you was built by the hard labor of our own, encouraged by Enoth whips, just as Azol was. But we were a glittering city in our own right not a hundred years ago. Before the empire came south and destroyed what we had built. We were a bustling city on the sea. Our ships sailed further than Redact and Ruyn.”
He sighed and took a few puffs from his pipe. Serinde looked at him intently and saw that, hidden behind a face full of age, there was a passion that she felt a connection with. She knew there were commonalities between her and this strange, old elf. A bond was there, growing with every word he spoke.
“Then came the siege.”
Omioor put his pipe to his knee as he spoke the next words.
“We had always thought the mountains to be our safe haven. They form a natural boundary for us. In the end, the walls were our undoing. The empire was able to totally surround us, cut off our food, and had ships to blockade our own escaping vessels. For months, there was no going in or out of the city. Many of my friends died of starvation. We simply had no more food left.”
A bird flew overhead, calling its evening song. The three of them watched it fly for what seemed to Serinde a long while. It disappeared behind a cloud before Omioor continued.
“The Empire walked into our city without ever raising a weapon,” he said, his face downcast and gray. “We begged for it all to be ended. I was so weak then. I just wanted my friends to stop dying.”
Another sigh escaped his parted lips and he puffed his pipe again.
“Of course, I'd watched many more die in the pits of stone than I had during that siege. The Empire's whips are strong and their elves are without regret or mercy.”
With those words, he stood to his feet and looked do
wn at the sisters.
“But they will know how strong we Eccott elves are!” he said with renewed vigor, the sadness gone from his face. In its place was the same fire Serinde felt within her own bones. “I'll take you to our leader. You'll see. The Empire's control of Eccott will fall before the week is up!”
He began walking down the path that led from the top of the mountain and motioned for them to follow. It took Erilas a moment to stand to her feet. She waved off Serinde's offer to help, claiming that she was only a little dizzy.
“There's a cave a few minutes’ walk from here. We'll spend a few hours there waiting for night. When the sky is dark, we'll enter the city and you'll meet Darnin. Come on!”
And with that, the three were on the move again, walking down a winding path that would eventually take them to the city of Eccott. Serinde wandered at Omioor's story. Had Enoth always been so cruel? It sounded like, in the long years they had been called a nation, that they had never shown restraint.
If this resistance failed, she wondered, would the Empire show mercy to those who sought to overthrow them?
She shook the thought from her mind, knowing both the answer and what would happen to her regardless of her actions from this point on. Serinde had aligned herself against the empire only a week ago, separate of any other faction. Perhaps if she joined a rebellion now, she would have hope.
With a short glance back, she considered what Erilas would think of such a maneuver. Her sister had been so quiet the last few days. What thoughts haunted her mind? Serinde made her way gingerly down a steep incline, attempting to balance her feet. The same care would have to come with how she balanced her actions as they would enter the city of almost free elves.
8: Stumbling Along
The company of elves and men moved slowly as they marched on from the site of the Wrent attack. The dead had been buried quickly and the wounded were either carried on makeshift stretchers or hobbling along on their own. Ever behind the human army of Darrion, however, pushed the Elves of Enoth.
