by RG Long
“An army?” Silverwolf asked, now turning her attention to the horizon as well.
Amrolan mounted Panto in a swift, fluid motion.
“An empire,” he said. “Enoth marches on the forest.”
They gathered what little provisions they had and headed west, following Amrolan's trail through the forest and away from the columns of elves and purple banners that had just risen over the hilltops.
31: The Pursuers and the Pursued
Ealrin was glad he was free of the prison and the elves of Enoth. For the time being, at least.
The forest floor was uneven and roots kept popping up to tangle his feet and hinder his weary steps. The horns of the Enoth army grew louder as they ran. There hadn't even been enough time to properly
rest. His breath was ragged and he felt worse than he had ever in his life.
Perhaps save shipwrecked and washed ashore that one time.
He stopped and put his hands on his knees. It felt like he couldn't go another step. Blume was at his side in a moment. She put her hand on his shoulder and looked at him with concern in her eyes.
“I'm fine,” he said, putting what he hoped was a brave look on his face. The last thing he needed was Blume worrying about him. She had already done enough for him today.
A rustle in the forest behind them made them both look back. The others had stopped as well.
“Don't move,” Amrolan said, when Ealrin glanced back at him. He watched the elf scan the trees with a furrowed brow. In flash of movement, Amrolan drew out a sword from Panto's armor and lunged at Ealrin.
Had Ealrin had more strength, or had he been thinking an attack would come, he would have defended himself. But tired as he was, and seeing how Blume and Silverwolf had so readily trusted this elf, he hadn't thought he would turn on them. Amrolan's face was set, his brow furrowed and his sword pointed right at Ealrin.
Which was fortunate, because otherwise the other two swords that came crashing down would certainly have separated his head from his neck. The resounding clang was deafening. Ealrin didn't have time to think, only to will his tired body into motion.
Blume pulled him backwards as he raised his sword to defend her. He looked up and saw two fully armored figures coming down on their party. Both fought with two swords and purple adorned their sleek silver breastplates. Not an inch of skin was visible and helmets covered their heads. Behind them came ten more elves, purple sashes hanging over shining breastplates, but no helmets.
Silverwolf was beside him now, a sword she had stolen in Horritoft raised to attack. Holve had drawn his spear and the battle began.
Pure adrenaline drove away the exhaustion Ealrin was feeling. He lifted his sword and struck out at the armored warrior who had tried to behead him. The force of the parry knocked him sideways. Silverwolf stepped in and began dueling with the warrior while Ealrin faced another two elves with dark expressions.
The first blade he was able to knock away, but the second came flying far too close to his shoulder. He winced as he ducked quickly out of harm's way. His arm had never felt quite right after being bitten by that Wrent outside of Lone Peak.
He was outmatched, there was no denying it. He thought he would meet his end at the hands of these two elves, but just as one began to lunge at him, a howl of pain escaped him. Blume pulled her short knife out of a space in the elf's armored leg. His fury was evident on his face and Ealrin was sure the elf would have gladly shoved his blade through Blume's heart had Panto not taken that very moment to bite into the elf's sword arm.
The bear flung the elf hard into a tree. Ealrin heard him crash into the trunk and roll onto ground below. The warrior did not stir.
“Thanks,” Blume said as Panto looked at them both and snorted. The bear roared and ran after another elf.
Both Holve and Silverwolf were holding off one of the fully armored foes. Amrolan, however, was fighting another on his own. The two warriors who were clad all in metal fought with devastating ferocity. Ealrin wasn't sure which was more terrifying, the bear, or these two.
He decided not to leave Amrolan by himself.
Taking his sword in both hands, he ran at the two dueling elves, attempting to distract the helmeted attacker. The elf displayed an amazing ability to duel two at once. Though Ealrin attacked with all of the ferocity he could muster, the assailant was not going to be deterred.
Ealrin soon found himself on the defensive, using his blade to block the dizzying attacks that came his way. Amrolan seemed in no better state than he did. One particularly strong blow managed to catch Ealrin off balance and the sword flew from one of his hands, though he just managed to hold it with his right. One of the attacker’s swords came within an inch of his throat.
“No!” Blume screamed as she lunged for the enemy with her small blade. Ealrin couldn’t regain himself quickly enough to block the blade that was coming down towards Blume. So he did the only thing that made sense to him. He flung himself at the Enoth warrior, bringing them both to the ground. The warrior’s helmet was knocked aside in the scramble and Blume fell into a pile with them. Amrolan jumped on one of the arms of the now grounded fighter and Ealrin struggled with the other, trying to wrest the blade away.
It was then that he looked up into the face of his attacker. His breath left him in a gasp.
“Teresa!” he said when he finally regained control of speech. It was the face he had known for a year, the short dark hair of the princess of Thoran, but her eyes were filled with a purple light and rage filled her expression.
She did not recognize him.
Instead, she struggled all the more against them, trying to use all of her strength to wrest herself free of the three who held her down. It took a great deal of strength to do so.
“Holve!” Ealrin called in desperation. “It’s Teresa! Here! She’s fighting us!”
He could hear the grunts and steel rings of battle coming from Holve, Silverwolf and the other Enoth warrior.
But if this was Teresa...
“Holve!” Ealrin said again. “Get the helmet off of her! That’s Wisym!”
“Before or after she’s tried to kill me?” Holve shot back, deflecting a brilliant blade stroke with his spear. Ealrin had turned his head to get a glimpse of their fight and see if the other warrior was indeed their friend from Ruyn.
He had been too distracted. Teresa managed to knee him in the gut and he doubled up in pain. She wrested herself free of Amrolan and Blume. The elf had one of her blades, but she still had use of the other.
“You know this human?” Amrolan asked as he took a defensive stance.
The look in her eyes was one Ealrin had seen before, but never directed at him. Through the purple haze of magic that came through her eyes, Ealrin could see hatred and disgust. Teresa Thoran was willing to die in this fight. She was going to fight to the very end against an enemy she despised, but did not recognize as a friend.
“Teresa!” he yelled, hoping his words may break through the spell, yet knowing at the same time that she was somewhere far from him.
Amrolan was back up and now wielded two blades of his own. He circled Teresa, along with Ealrin, stepping over roots as he went. She looked furious, like an animal trapped, ready to pounce at a moment’s notice. Any moment she would strike. How long would Ealrin be able to fight back without harming her? How could he convince Amrolan that she was a friend under a spell?
“She’s a companion, but she doesn’t recognize us,” Ealrin replied, eyeing Teresa warily.
“Obviously,” Amrolan responded.
In their circling, Ealrin was now in a position to see the other battle taking place. Silverwolf had finally been able to restrain their attacker in a armlock, though the elf fought with all of her vigor to free herself. Holve ran up to her and, dodging her blades, removed the helmet.
It was Wisym.
She wore the same expression of rage that Teresa did. Purple magic flowed from her eyes. From the trees behind them, Ealrin heard the crashing o
f another warrior coming to them. They were quickly becoming outmatched. This elf had no sword, but rather a long spear with a brutal tip. This warrior had no helmet, only an expression of rage to match her wild background that Ealrin had only learned of in small part: it was Elen. She was also under the same spell as the other two. Ealrin’s spirit dropped.
Having her helmet removed enraged Wisym further. She broke free of Silverwolf and turned to deliver a killing blow. At the same time, Teresa lashed out in Ealrin’s direction. Elen ran towards Holve, spear outstretched. This was the death strike. All of them were prepared to die fighting. They were either about to kill their friends without knowing it, or Ealrin and Silverwolf were going to be forced to kill them in return.
Ealrin was devastated by his own raised blade.
But the attack never came. Elen, Teresa and Wisym were frozen mid-strike. Ealrin stared at the pained expression on Teresa’s face. She seemed to be hurting, which only enraged her more. Then he heard the chanting.
Spinning, he saw Blume grasping Jurgon’s wand. The one they had recovered from the chambers of Horritoft.
It sparked with red light. Tendrils of it shot at all three warriors. Blume was doubling up with exertion as she Spoke into the stone.
“What are you doing?” Ealrin asked as the tendrils shot out more rapidly and with increasing brightness.
He knew she couldn’t respond, but he was also concerned. Her magic had been sporadic at best. She was trying to help them survive this terrible fight, but what would that mean for their two spellbound friends?
With a final blast of red light and an enormous rush of wind, the three warriors vanished. Ealrin felt the gust blow over him and out of the forest. Far away, at the very horizon where the army was marching towards them, he saw another red blast of light.
Then Blume fell over onto to forest floor.
A silent calm overcame them all. The only sound was Panto’s pawing back to them and Blume’s ragged breath.
Ealrin kneeled down next to her and turned her head to him. Her eyes fluttered open and she looked up at him.
“That was much...harder than it looked,” she said through gasps.
A smile came across his face without his permission. She hadn’t exerted herself into another deep sleep. She was okay.
Amrolan was staring out in the direction the wind had gone.
“Seems she sent them back to the Enoth army,” he said.
Holve joined him, looking out at the army that was marching their direction.
“Who they were fighting for, it seems,” he said.
Ealrin turned to look at Holve.
“You know they were under a spell or something,” he said.
“It certainly seemed like it. But who put them into it, I wonder? And when will it break?”
Silverwolf hit the flat side of her blade against a tree.
“And will little miss magic be able to just send them away again?” she said, looking down at Blume.
“She just saved our lives, and theirs,” Ealrin shot back, annoyed at her apparent lack of gratefulness.
“This time. But what about when they catch up with us again? Is she just going to send them packing again? She doesn't look strong enough to stand.”
“Enough,” Amrolan said, even before Holve could open his mouth to quiet the two. “We need to seek my master.”
“Your master?” Ealrin asked, taking his eyes off of Silverwolf and looking at the elf.
Amrolan nodded. He came over to Blume and took her by the hands, raising her up and putting her on Panto. Had she the energy to argue, Ealrin would have been sure she would have disagreed with riding the monstrous bear. For now, however, she looked grateful for the ride.
“He's an ancient beyond even elf reckoning. He sent me to seek out a way to prevent what is coming. I think that amulet and this girl may be what he was looking for,” he said, pointing to Blume. “He can guide our next steps.”
“And what is coming?” Holve asked, an eyebrow raised.
Amrolan sighed as he turned to face them.
“Something much more devastating than war.”
32: Homes
“So, we don’t cut down any trees?” Tory asked for the second time as they were walking hurriedly through the forest. For the time being, it seemed the elves were going to allow them to live. When word of the approaching Enoth army came, the Wood Walkers began frantically gathering in one direction. Ferinan told Tory and Gorplin to go with the elf who had originally brought them from the beach.
And he was not very impressed with his job.
“We harm no living thing,” he replied.
“Yeah, but,” Tory persisted. “A tree isn’t an animal. It’s a plant. And one that’s extremely helpful if you cut them down and make a wall to defend yourself.”
Tory had noticed that the forest these elves lived in was just that. A forest. No walls. No defenses. No anything to help them repel an army. The only tactical advantage Tory could see was that the army wouldn’t be able to march right up and take the elves out in a massive column. The humongous trees would prevent them from marching in rank.
Small comfort.
“We injure no living thing in our forest, plant or animal,” he answered. “And, if you want to remain free from shackles, I suggest you follow our example.”
“You do know there is an army about to enter your forest and try to destroy you, right?” Tory asked.
The elf turned and glared at him.
“And we will defend the forest until our last breath,” he said with furrowed brow and chilled expression.
Tory coughed.
“Good,” he said.
Because they are definitely not going to be as peace loving as you, he thought.
Elves from all parts of the forest were moving in a single direction. It felt like northeast to Tory, but he couldn’t see the suns from the canopy that laid on top of them. Gorplin was grunting and huffing as they went.
“Bleeding elves won’t even make a fire,” he grumbled. “How are they going to stop an army?”
Tory thought the dwarf had a good question. Everything he knew about warfare involved chopping down trees, building walls, burning torches, and basically using nature to defend lives. He had never, in all his time as a soldier of Thoran, thought to preserve a plant while protecting a real life.
This was going to be difficult.
Elves pushed in from all sides. Most ignored Tory and Gorplin, but some gave them a second look. Mostly, these were haughty and distasteful glances.
“Feeling welcome yet?” Tory asked Gorplin.
“Bah,” he replied. “I’d rather deal with Wisym’s lot than these tree lovers.”
A few elves glared at the dwarf, but did not respond. Tory knew they heard every mumbled word, but also felt like they were under the protection of Ferinan. He also didn’t fear a knife in his back because he hadn’t seen a single blade or arrow.
Another worrying fact.
The elves they were following soon began to split off into groups, some to the left and others to the right. Their own guide pushed them forward.
“Ferinan wishes to meet with you,” he stated plainly. “Stay here.”
Tory felt like ‘here’ was a very busy intersection, though for what purpose he didn’t yet know. Elves were streaming into the area. Most of the Wood Walkers who passed them did so with determination.
“What’s going on?” Gorplin asked, unable to see most of the proceedings due to his stature.
“Can’t tell,” Tory said. A sound like a trumpet filled the area. It was a low, long tone followed by several short blasts. Many of the elves seemed to nod and begin to congregate into groups.
“What...” Tory began before being cut off.
“It’s our way of informing the gatherings what we need them to do,” their guide said. “Right now, they are moving into groups based on their gathering and then by their age.”
“Age?” Tory asked, taking a moment to t
hink. “To send the young and old back behind whatever defenses you’ve worked up?”
“The young will go there,” the elf said, pointing towards a spot that looked like a haphazardly stacked pile of rock and vines. “The old will proceed to the front of the groups.”
“The... the front!?” Tory said, shocked at this. “But then they’ll,”
“Die defending the forest, as they would have it,” the elf said indifferently.
“Bah,” Gorplin said, spitting onto the ground. “You’re all off your tree trunks.”
The elf ignored him.
“Our supplies are limited, as are our other resources,” he explained, as if communicating a simple fact to a youth. “We are merely using what we have in order to ensure our forest survives.”
Tory couldn’t believe his ears.
“Then the children?” he asked, not sure if he wanted to hear.
In the hustle that was happening all around them, Tory saw several younger but stoic looking elves moving towards the place their guide had indicated. Their faces were set, though he did see one smaller boy with tear tracks running down his face.
“They will defend the forest in the event that their parents and those older than they are defeated,” he replied. “They are our last line of defense against the traitorous elves.”
Tory had heard enough.
“Take me to Ferinan,” he said, looking their guide in the eyes and conveying all the rage he could muster into his glare. The elf stared back, but Tory refused to relent. He took a step closer, until he was chest to chest with their guide.
“Now!”
THEIR GUIDE BEGRUDGINGLY led them through the mass of tangled trees, vines, and stones. It wasn’t long before Tory realized he wasn’t walking through the random paths of nature, but something more planned.
“This was a city,” he said as he followed the guide through another long stretch that had several mounds of stone on either side of it.
“Bah,” Gorplin grunted. “I could have told you that, dafty.”
