* * * * *
"So what are ye going to say to him?" The very tip of Sharia appearing on the edge of the horizon prompted the question from Gort.
"Say? I am simply going to relay what Javal told us, and if Rasonius is not willing to help, then I will challenge him to a drinking contest." Lanyan replied, keeping his stern gaze forward.
"Ye wouldn't last five minutes, but then again, neither would he."
Lanyan was kidding, that much was certain. What the Elf could not determine was whether or not the Dwarf knew, and if the bearded fellow was doing the same. He thought to ask, but remembered what questions initiated with Gort—over emphasized answers—so instead he preferred to stay silent.
That silence ensued long after, until a random rock far off in the field and utter boredom revived a long time rivalry between the two.
"Learn how ta use that fancy weapon of yers yet?" The Dwarf tugged a hammer from his belt, spinning it once over in his hand.
"Aye, quite well actually." The Elf's tone was calm, but it held a subtle taunting undertone.
"Still not good enough ta beat me I say." He chuffed, nodding towards the oncoming boulder."
"Ha! With this weapon I'm good enough to beat you twice as fast." He taunted, sliding the weapon into his grip.
The Dwarf snorted, but only expressed confusion. "Eh?"
"I'm willing to bet that I can hit that boulder twice before your hammer ever touches it."
"Yer willing, are ye?!"
"Oh, aye."
"Well then oh aye ye've got yerself a bet!" Gort spun the hammer again, Lanyan eyed the Dwarf. Neither relented, they barely blinked. Their stares methodical, almost cold, each looking at the other as if they were not companions in the same group, rather enemies on the opposite side of the battlefield. One was waiting for the other to make the first move. "Don't ye worry, I'll say when."
The Elf flicked his wrist once and a bolt flung into the top chamber. "When?"
Gort smirked and narrowed his eyes, turning them towards the rock as his arm raised. One lid shut, the other shoved open as he took aim. Once he found it suitable, he cranked the hammer back behind his head. His mouth opened as though he would speak the command, but he did not, only tried to catch the Elf off guard. Lanyan didn't budge. Didn't even flinch, and when Gort realized it, he finally pulled his arm all the way back. "When!" Lan had squeezed the trigger before the Dwarf got the word completely out.
The first bolt hit the rock straight on, splintering and cracking before Gort had released the grip of his hammer. It flipped halfway to its target when he heard another arrow click in Lanyan's crossbow, the twang of his string when it fired.
It was going to be close. The Dwarf knew it, the Elf knew it.
But neither expected what happened next. Lanyan's bolt and Gort's hammer both raced towards their target, the hammer only inches in front of the arrow. But Lanyan's projectile was lighter, faster and gained more ground. Instead of colliding with the boulder, the head of Gort's weapon had spun directly in its path. The arrow hit hard enough to twirl it off course, but the impact snapped the wood in two and both tools fell to the ground, just short of their target.
"Huh..." Lanyan blinked, a slight look of astonishment on his face.
"Aye... huh."
"I guess that means I win then."
"Eh?! How do ye figure ye won?!" Gort spun around.
"If your hammer had not been in the way, I would have hit my target."
Gort fumed, throwing his hands up emphatically, his stone face burning an angry red. "If yer arrow had not collided with my hammer, I would av' hit my target."
The Elf could only laugh, expecting that exact reaction. "Well, you believe that you've won, I believe that I've won. What do you purpose?"
"Another round, so I can prove ya wrong!"
"Aye..." Lanyan said, finding that answer acceptable, but as he looked right then left, another question arose. "What though?"
The Dwarf only shook his head, finding even less to hit than Lanyan. "I don't know. Yer eyes are better than mine."
Lan squinted. "True, but I can't find something if it's not there to be found."
"Then what? I ain't letting ye win."
The Elf's eyes narrowed, and he took a moment to think but an idea crossed his mind the same time the smile did on his face. "I have an idea." He turned slightly, reaching into his bag, pulling out a plum—the same plum that Grahamas had given him to begin his training. "Think you can hit a moving target?"
The Dwarf eyed it for a moment. "Aye."
"Still have yours?"
Gort followed Lanyan's previous movement, a moment later the plum was in his grip. "Aye."
"Good. I'll allow you the privilege of going first." Lanyan waited until the Dwarf had pulled another hammer off his belt, until he had cranked his arm all the way back. Even after, he waited, only stared at the fruit in his palm, something far more pressing than a challenge overtaking him. "Gort... do you miss him?"
Gort looked at the plum, then back at Lanyan. "Grahamas? Aye. I do." He muttered, dropping his hand and staring forward. For a time, that seemed all he was going to say. Eventually though, a hard breath pressed out of his lungs and the Dwarf continued. "I meant what I said. About him feeling like a friend. Grahamas...never treated me any different than tha rest of ye. He didn't do that with anyone. He didn't treat me like a stupid rock-head, or ye like a stubborn Elf. He treated me like Gort and you like Lanyan. All my life I've dealt with people having their own... thoughts about my race before they ever get ta know me, and I know ye have too. Graham never did. He even tried ta teach us how ta use a sword, something maybe neither of us would have ever learned, at least not well. But it wasn't about that. It was his way of trying ta show us something we could use, something that would make us believe in ourselves, because he believed in us. That's something only a friend does."
Lanyan, as long as he had known Gort, had encountered a lot of maybes with the fellow. Maybe he'll stop talking. Maybe he wouldn't snore tonight. Maybe he won't over-cook the meat again. But for today, for this moment, Lanyan had only one: Maybe, just maybe, the Dwarf was deeper, that he had more going on in his head than Lan could ever fathom or had ever given him credit for. He could not word his own thoughts any better, even though they were the same. "Aye... I miss him too."
Gort bowed his head, and again the two found themselves in silence. When it appeared that was all to be said, the Dwarf turned a taunting, childish grin onto the Elf. "Ya going to throw that?”
The Elf stared at the simple piece of fruit for a moment, and the corner of his eye glinted, which could be mistaken for a tear in different light. Eventually, that food may rot—though made from the Goddess he could not say for sure. But for now, it was whole, and flawless. It served as a reminder. Lanyan could not bear to hurl it, or cause any damage. “No, Gort. I’m not.” He turned to look at the Dwarf, only to find he’d already placed his own back in the bag. The Elf gave a smile, and a knowing nod. “What then?”
Gort glanced around. “Aye. What then?”
They had ridden for an hour, asking that same question in different ways—failing to find an answer. They had considered rocks, clumps of dirt and even stopping to ball up handfuls of grass but nothing worked.
Though they once held the same emotion—a bond—prior, their competitive nature was reviving, and each was getting antsy. Only, neither would touch the plum.
“I wish Lornya were here.” Lanyan marked. “She could grow something for us.”
Gort chuckled. “I wish Gnert were here. He could be our target.”
He tried to resist, but Lanyan could not help but laugh. “Aye, but neither are.”
The Dwarf grumbled and the Elf looked upon his impending arrival to find peace, and quiet his longstanding urge to vie with Gort. He knew, directly to his right, the other was doing the same thing.
Occasionally Gort would reach for the plum, but rarely remove it. If he did, he would grip the fruit to
practice, but had not given the impression he was ever going to hurl it. Next to him, Lanyan followed suit. Although there was a growing, dominating tension, it was one they endured in silence.
When they finally reached Sharia, both established to set aside their squabble, knowing it would rise again. Gort huffed, as Lanyan predicted he would, when they approached the forest while the Elf let out a sigh of relief. To Lan's surprise, Sharia remained just as he left it. Quiet, peaceful, with the two guards at the front's entrance standing as solemn as ever.
Not a day had past where he didn't worry of returning and finding his home in shambles, burned to the ground or soldiers looting it for anything they could find. They had not. Perhaps Idimus had not acted on the barrier's fall, perhaps Rasonius had discovered how to replace it. Lanyan wouldn't know until he entered, but one thing was for sure: Sharia, for now, was safe.
"Are ya going to make me go through the maze again?" Gort bickered, oddly sounding worried.
Lanyan slowed slightly. "No. You passed the test originally. You're now allowed quick access to the heart of Sharia."
"Quick?"
The Elf stopped completely then, returning the bow given to him by the guards. Gort thought he would go through the entrance they guarded and prepared to do the same. However, he moved to the left of it, his hand pushing along the outer wall made up of thick vines and wide brush between the trees. His fingers pushed in sporadically until he found what he was looking for. Only then did he turn to Gort to answer his question, peeling back the vines to reveal a hole amidst the greenery. "Come. I'll show you."
Lanyan led the way in, the gap an entrance to a clear, straight path. For a moment Gort felt like he was home in the tunnels of Forgas, except for the Ivy creating the walls and ceiling instead of stone, and this was not lit by lanterns, but rays of sunlight piercing through the space between the leaves, jagged patches placed on the dirt under their feet.
Gort glanced back, aimed at where they came in, watching it fade from sight. His first experience here was not his favorite, mainly because of the walk it took to get inside. The mass confusion caused by the twisting, turning maze, and that same feeling overtook him the moment the exit was out of sight. Overwhelmed with a sense of disorientation, he had to ask Lanyan for reassurance. "How much longer?" He questioned, still afraid to look forward.
"We're there." Lanyan replied casually.
Gort faced forward quickly, his eyes falling on the inner circle of Sharia. It was as though the population went unchanged since the last time they visited. Elves glided their way along the edge of the trees, working from their homes to the river, then to the other homes and larger stone buildings mixed within the grass huts. Lanyan was happy to return, but Gort couldn’t stem the feeling of curiosity he had. They seemed so independent, so free. Yet they still did all that was required of them for their lives and society. Their plan was not obvious, their structure not blatant, and it was the furthest thing from what Gort encountered, even when he was relaxing, but he at least found a small amount of respect in their work ethic. "Are they expecting us?"
Lanyan continued on towards Layanese, elves bowing cordially to him as he passed. "I imagine somewhere in his mind, he's always expected us, but not in an official manner, no." The two continued on until they reached the end of the bridge and the steps leading to the council's chambers. He stopped and held out his arm to prompt Gort to do the same. "Can you please advise Rasonius that we have returned?"
"Certainly, Lord Lanyan." Bowed the first guard, turning quickly on his heel, rushing up the stairs.
"Lord...Lanyan?" Gort mocked, his suddenly clamped mouth trying to hold back the laughter.
"It's a cordial title. He says that to all."
Gort studied Lanyan, trying to determine if he was serious. With no indication he turned his eyes towards the other guard, finding no luck. Before he was able to ask, the first ran up again.
"Lord Lanyan, Lord Gort the council will address you now." Each of them bowed and drew back from the stairs to allow entry.
"My gratitude given." Lan nodded as he crossed through. Once they were a suitable distance away, he whispered back to the Dwarf. "Exactly as I told you; cordial."
Gort was paying no attention, only wore a smile, holding his head a bit higher than before. "Lord Gort..." He whispered, mostly to himself, still grinning, even as they approached the entrance.
"Focus, Gort."
"Eh? Oh, right. Focus."
The Dwarf straightened his mouth long before they had placed themselves in front of the council. Lan was the first to bow, and once Gort saw it, he did the same.
"Rise, Lanyan." Rasonius said, still atop his seat in the middle of the council, the rest on either side of him. “I did not expect you to return so soon, I am glad you have done so safely."
"Thank you, your Highness." Lanyan tried, gave his greatest effort to keep his eyes only on Rasonius. But he was too weak, the draw too powerful and he averted a quick, strong gaze to Starrlana. The raven-haired elf beamed brightly at him, forcing a wink from his eye. Lanyan, immediately after, realized it and turned his stern face back on Rasonius. "As requested, Lord, I have returned with the information you sought in order to provide us aid."
The elven King suddenly cast an uneasy look to the rest of the council. "We did not think you would do so, at least nay in so short amount of time."
"The war has now been given a date, your Highness. The sooner we came, the more beneficial it would be."
Rasonius sighed, and it was one that seemed to derive from stress. Lanyan suddenly tried to determine why. "Lanyan... You have made this so very difficult on me."
"I'm sorry? What do you mean?"
The King hung his head, but did not do so out of shame. "We were to have a messenger sent to Forgas to inform you of this, but I... we have decided that we cannot afford the losses that would come by entering a war."
"But I was to understand that you would not do any considering until we returned." Lanyan’s posture stiffened.
"That was what we originally agreed upon, however with more thought on it, we chose to withdraw our original agreement."
Lanyan felt his heart rate increase, a mix of disappointment and anger coursing through his veins. "Why? From what you told us..."
"Damn it, Lanyan!” Rasonius slammed his fist on the armrest, a reaction that surprised everyone else. “I know what I told you. It is no longer viable. Do not make this any harder on me."
Lan’s tone bordered on aggressive. "When? When did you determine this?"
His eyes locked on Rasonius, but the elven King did not answer. He looked to Kemsaya, then Anstros but they remained silent as well. Only Starrlana seemed willing to speak, but even that was done in a meek manner. "Before you arrived..."
"Yes, I know that. I want to know specifically."
"No, Lanyan. Before you arrived the first time." She cast her gaze away, pain stinging her eyes.
"With Elryia? Is this true?"
Still Rasonius remained speechless, until Starrlana placed a harsh look on him. "Tell him, Father. He deserves that much."
Rasonius feigned, first staring at his daughter then refusing to do the same to Lanyan. "It's true. We knew when you left that one day you may come seeking others to fight this war, and once that was considered we discussed it... and set our minds on not becoming involved. We have not changed them, and never did. I'm sorry, Lanyan."
Lanyan took a step back. "Why did you not say anything before hand? And why tell us now?"
"That was not the image we had wanted to portray in front of outsiders. We preferred you not lose face. I have asked you time and again to come home, as Starrlana has, and you've refused. We've come to terms that you will not until it's settled, and that you will be spending a fair amount of time with your group. We did not want their loyalty to diminish. We worried of their opinions."
"And now? What of his opinion?" Lanyan looked to the Dwarf, who had oddly remained quiet through this entire thing
, and the look on his face told Lanyan that Gort knew it wasn't his place.
"Opinion?” Rasonius scoffed. “Lanyan, it's just a simple dwarf."
"Watch your tongue, King." Lanyan muttered before he could control it, and his hand stretched out to calm the moving Gort.
"I beg your pardon?"
Lanyan took a deep breath and held his answer. A choice was now placed on him, one that could possibly affect the rest of his life. In front of him was his King, someone he had known for nearly thirty years, an elf he admired and revered. His leader and the father of the woman he loved. If he stood up to him now, he would most likely never see her or his homeland ever again. On his left was the complete opposite. He argued on a daily basis with Gort. They bickered, taunted one another and typically found themselves on different sides of any discussion. But he was someone that over the year Lanyan had learned to call a friend. He did not always agree with Gort, or even understand him, but he trusted him wholeheartedly, and in some way respected him. The choice Lanyan had to make now was one based on honor, on whom he was more loyal to and who was more deserving of it. "I said watch your tongue King. I will not have you speaking of him in such a manner."
Resinous was astounded, gaping his mouth open as though he wished to demonstrate his rage, but no words could form. He looked to the rest of the council for support, but each was having exactly the same reaction. "And what makes you think you can speak to me in that manner?! I am your King!"
"And you are one I've looked up to over the years. I would have never imagined you to deceive me in such a way, or turn away the opportunity to free your people, especially without seeming regret."
The elven King pushed forward. "You don't have the first idea of what I am forced to endure to keep my people safe. Just because you do not see it, does not mean its existence is not there."
Lanyan stepped up as well. "Sometimes it's a not a matter of safety, it's about what your people deserve. Every year Sharia grows smaller, the number of elves taken or murdered grows larger. And every year you only continue on doing the same thing—hiding—blanketed by the barrier that will not protect this place forever. Tell me, have you restored it, My Lord?"
"...No."
"Have you told them this?"
Rasonius nerves set in. "It would cause a panic."
"And you can honestly tell me they're safer here, waiting for the secret to get out, rather than fight the man who endangers them in the first place? Do you know that other people out there, ones that have never met you nor have a claim in Sharia, are fighting and dying so that you won't ever even need the barrier again?"
"Lanyan, Please..." Starrlana begged, trying to draw his eyes away but Lan kept them burning on the King.
"No, Starr, this needs to be said. Rasonius, Grahamas is dead. Our leader has passed, the one man that inspired us to fight is gone, and yet we still refuse to stand down..."
"Lanyan, I'm sorry..." Rasonius spoke, but he was cut-off again.
"We fight, and so did he. He gave his life trying to retrieve a weapon that would have saved us all. And he knew before he ever even entered that it may end him, yet he went without a second thought because there was a chance. A chance that he would succeed, and free his race. Every race. He didn't go there for himself, and he risked his life for everyone else, for nothing more than a hope everything would be well. Why you can't do that, why you can't be like Javal, Grahamas or Gort here and fight for this world rather than hide from it is a question I can't answer. I know not why and I no longer care. This is my battle and I am going to Forgas to fight it. I am going because I respect you, and I respect my people. Because I hope on one day marrying your daughter, but I plan on living with her in a world where we don't have to hide." His eyes fell on her, only for a moment, until his attention placed on the Dwarf next to him. "Let's go, Gort."
"Aye..." He muttered, standing up and following Lanyan as he faced the other way. "That was unexpected." He said after he passed through the door frame.
"Let's just say I imagined how you would have done things... and I tried it."
"Well if ya were planning on never coming back here, then it worked just fine. Now what do we do?" Gort taunted, trying to lighten the mood.
Lanyan actually smiled. "I don't know about you, but I'm going to make a scene."
"A scene?" Lanyan didn't answer, only moved around the door to single golden nail that was drilled into the marble, and the long black rope, connected to the ivory horn that hung off of it. He had pointed it out to Gort specifically when they were first here. It was a horn loud enough, and blaring enough to draw the attention of everyone from Sharia. "Yer not..."
"Oh, Aye." Lanyan said before taking a deep breath, prompting the Dwarf to block his ears. The breath that Lanyan took in was pushed out into the horn’s sharp end, and from the other echoed a low, loud screech that lasted over a minute. When it ended, everyone—including the council—had come to Layanese to see why.
"What's the meaning of this, Lanyan? You know that is for warning the village." Anstros spoke, the first to exit the chambers.
"Aye. That's what I'm doing." Lanyan had waited until everyone possible had gathered around before turning his attention back to them to speak. "Good folks of Sharia! Your attention please!"
"Lanyan!" Rasonius whispered harshly as he came to the Elf's back. "Do not do this."
"It's too late. Their safety depends on fighting this battle, not avoiding it." Lanyan stepped away from the King, drawing in another deep breath. "For years you have lived in fear of Idimus with only a frail barrier to protect you from his tyranny. That barrier is no more, it has been broken..." He looked back at the King. "And Rasonius was no more aware of it than the rest of you. I am telling him, as I tell you, that a dragon has burned through and all others will come once they find out. I reveal this not to scare you, rather inspire you to fight. The barrier may never return, but you have a choice to fight so that you'll never need one again. You have a chance to fight so that you may live free!"
"Stop this at once, Lan!" Rasonius ordered, raising his arm to strike the Elf, but a gentle hand from Starrlana wrapped around it and halted him.
"Father...please. He is only trying to do what he thinks is right. If the barrier can't be returned, perhaps it is our only option."
The King sighed, his daughter the one voice of reason he could not ignore. "I will not tell my people to march to their slaughter." But he did not refute it either. He knew Lanyan, in some way was right, but he had too much pride to ever admit that, so he simply walked back into the chambers, taking most of the council with him and closing the doors.
"Who?!" Lanyan yelled at the crowd again. "Who amongst you will come with me to Forgas, join Javal and his dwarves and fight for our freedom?"
Some looked skeptical, others left when Rasonius had, but Lanyan's courage and nobility was well known in Sharia. There were several who trusted him, and a good many that he could call upon to command. One by one, those loyal to him had stepped forward.
"I will fight with you, Lord Lanyan!" One had yelled from the crowd.
"And I!" came the holler from another.
Young and old elves, males and females alike had worked their way up. Of the three hundred some population that Sharia held, only a fraction stood out; a total numbering sixty-four. With Rasonius’ blessing it would have been twice that, but it was more than he ever hoped to get without it. Lanyan took a moment to survey, then turned to Gort. "I think that went rather well."
"Except for that evil horn." He huffed, proceeding down the stairs and to the bridge.
Lanyan was set to follow when a soft voice registered behind him. "Lany."
He turned. "Starr? I thought you had returned with your father."
She bowed, apologetic and almost embarrassed. "I did not want you to leave thinking that everyone on the council was against you. I am not."
"Even after the way I spoke to him?"
"Even after. I have never heard anyone talk to
him in such a way, but I can understand why you did. He should have been honest with you. Now I want you to do the same with me. Did you truly mean what you said?" She held him with the most stern gaze he had ever seen.
"Starr... I have nothing but respect for your father, I was only trying to inspire him to step up."
A slight perk of her mouth appeared. "No. Not about that. What you told him about us."
"...oh. Aye. Every word." He admitted, trying to mask his blush.
The smile grew slightly more taunting. "Then should I consider that a proposal?"
"Only a promise. That is, if your father can see passed this."
"I will speak to him. But understand that is why I cannot go with you. It would only make things worse for us."
"I do." He answered regretfully.
She stepped forward, as though she was going to embrace him, but held her ground, as did he. "Assure me you will return safely."
"I will." He said to her, bowing cordially as he forced himself to step back.
"Good. I hope you stay in touch, and tell me of your progress. I will do the same."
He had given one last smile and a nod in acceptance before he turned away, knowing if he didn't now he never would. When he met Gort, the Dwarf had an obvious grumble in his throat. "Yer too serious. Anyone ever told ya that?"
"How so?"
Gort gave him a disapproving eye. "Ya love that girl, even talked about marrying her, yet ye didna' even so much as shake her hand. Yer too serious."
"That is not how we elves do things."
"Eh. Well maybe it should be. Kiss her next time, maybe it'll help ya stop being so uptight."
Lanyan laughed, leading his way down to the group that had formed. "Next time, I will" was his only response, the Dwarf's only a grumble. When he had reached those that had stayed behind for him, he made it a point to thank them individually. Most he knew, others he did not. By the end though, he would remember each one of them.
He gave a final look to Starrlana who was still staring out at him before he prepared to take the elves from Sharia and on to Forgas.
A slight shred of remorse held onto him, wishing there was another way this could have been handled. It faded because he knew, above all else, there was not.
At least for that day, Lanyan felt as though he had done his part.
A Once Faded Light Glimmers Again
The timing could not be more perfect. When Lanyan first saw the number of elves he would lead to Forgas, he worried a group that size would draw more attention than he wanted. But the sun had long since faded by the time everyone was suited to travel, and not one had opposition to riding straight through the valley to the mountain rather than the longer, winding road. It was faster, and easier to hide from patrols if any happened along, but Lanyan had the strange feeling none would. He still opted to ride behind them though, keeping his ear in every direction, yet only half-listening. He had other reasons for remaining back.
"Still feeling guilty?" Gort had slowed down to ride with him.
"Not exactly. Just... surveying everyone."
"Ye know all of them?"
"Most, aye."
Gort looked incredibly skeptical for a moment. "Aye? Most?" Lanyan nodded. "What about him?" The Dwarf pointed to an older elf with long black hair, several strands showing gray.
"Him? His name's Varden. He and my parents knew each other very well. I grew up with their son, Alistro." Lanyan directed his gaze to a much younger elf with the same colored hair.
"Varden, eh?" Gort obviously did not believe him, and he suddenly left Lanyan's side to ride up to the older elf. Sixty-five horses hooves were too much for even Lanyan to hear through, but he knew exactly what was discussed. Gort had ridden over, exchanged brief words, then shook the other's hand. He knew the Dwarf was too smart to come right out and ask him, rather introduced himself knowing the other would do the same. Minutes passed, and Gort's eagerness had been overweighed by his attempt to be cordial. He had eventually made his way back to Lanyan, a look of utter defeat on his face. "Lucky guess." He muttered, scanning the group for another elf. "What about..." His eyes continued, stopping every now and then but never asking. Then, Gort's face shifted and he wore a look that Lanyan had never seen in all the time he'd known him. The Dwarf actually looked like he was in awe. "What about her? Who's she?"
Lanyan followed Gort's unwavering stare to a young elven woman with shoulder length hair, mostly brown with sun-streaked blonde strands mixed in. He caught only the side of her face and one of her hazel eyes, but knew from the outfit who she was. The black vest draped over a green tunic, tucked into the leather pants around her waist, the smooth legs adorned in boots that came halfway up her thighs, crossing black laces gliding through silver rivets was an outfit most elves did not wear; only a few. "Her name is Sarahlya." Lanyan leered at the intent, appreciative gaze that had not faded from Gort's face, and he began to wonder if this was all a ploy to get her name without looking vulnerable. He dared not ask though, fearing he would set the Dwarf off. The Elf was smart, and he had other ways to find out. "And that blonde elf next to her is her husband, Ronov."
"Husband?!"
Gort's reaction was a mix of disappointment and irritation, and it told Lanyan all he needed to know. "Calm yourself, old friend. It was a rib. Sarahlya's not married. Though, that is Ronov. Her brother.”
"Sarahlya, eh?" Gort's attention all but faded, and Lanyan thought he would have to grab onto the Dwarf to keep him from wandering off.
"Be warned though.” He whispered. “She's not married, or even promised, for a reason."
"Eh?" Gort’s face turned.
"She's fierce."
"For an elf?" He almost laughed.
"For anyone.” Lan nodded towards her. “Have you not noticed her outfit, or that she—of all the female elves—is the only one wearing pants?"
Gort rode a bit closer and finally took in what Lanyan had earlier, but he seemed even more confused than before. "Aye? What's yer point?"
"She's not just any elf. She, like her brother, is an escort." The Dwarf's face clouded. "She's a travel guard. Anytime the elves leave the safety of Sharia, she protects them from troops and raiders. She's seen more fights than you and I combined, and she's the most sought after of all of them."
"Where ya going with this?" Gort leaned back, staring at the Elf through one eye.
"All I'm saying is be careful. She's not one to take lightly."
"Eh, I'm not going to do anything. I just wanted to know if ye knew everyone like ya were braggin' ya did." His eyes turned back to the woman and held. "But now I need to prove yer telling the truth."
Lan sighed, bowing forward and waving his hand before her. "Have at it, Lord Gort. Just do not say I didn't warn you."
"It's only for verification, nothing more..." Gort's voice trailed as he rode away.
Chuckling, Lanyan rode up a bit further as well to get a better view. "I've got to see this."
Initially, the Dwarf's introduction went exactly as the first, but the moment he extended his hand to shake hers, she snatched it. With a flick of her wrist, she had twisted his, forcing him to bend forward, his face now mashed into Pony's mane. Sarahlya's free hand patted up his sleeved arm, evidently searching for a weapon. When she was satisfied he had nothing hidden, her grip released and Gort sprang back up, rubbing his arm. Though his harmless nature had been proven, Sarahlya still did not shake his hand, only bowed her head slightly, behind her Ronov did the same.
After such a humiliating display, Lanyan thought Gort would return defeated as he had last time, but he stayed with her and continued to talk, Gort doing most of it, only getting one word answers from the elven guard, if any. Lanyan now worried he would have to ride up and pry the Dwarf away for his own safety, knowing how she could get if irritated. But the sudden jolt of the entire party had forced him out of idle thought, and he found himself riding up for a different reason.
Gort and Sarahlya remained behind for
a moment, allowing Lanyan to catch up. Once he had stopped, he propped himself up higher on his horse to get a better view. An effort that didn't help. "What is it? Danger?"
The Dwarf was acting a little sophisticated, holding himself more composed than normal. "Not sure. I only stopped because everyone else did."
"Well then it's best we find out." Lanyan said, riding forward without a second thought.
Gort took it, and a third, before finally allowing his eyes to fall on Sarahlya and his pride to outweigh his better judgment. "I'll come with ya, Lanyan. In case there's danger."
Lan knew, however, there would not be. The frontline’s stature, at best, was confused. The instant halt warned of something, but their now idle stance and willingness to wait said it was not something they needed to fear.
At least not anymore.
Lanyan was first to break through the group, each parting for him to do so, and his eyes crossed the open field. He couldn't help but ask the question that was seemingly on everyone else's mind. "What... is that?"
The Elf was referring to the dark, gigantic lump thirty feet directly in front of them, but he couldn't tell from here, nor could anyone else. Before his hands took the reigns to lead his horse further, took hold of his crossbow and slid it into his waiting palm. He turned, poised to ride forward, but a chuff from Gort held him back. "I would not be doing that if I were ye."
Lanyan twisted his mount around. "Why? Do you know what that is?"
"Aye. I've seen one before, in Forgas." Gort nodded solemnly.
"Well...?" The Elf shifted nervously.
"It's a Tagh, Lanyan."
"A what?"
"A Trolltagh.” Gort seemed to consider backing off. “Do ye not remember Elryia telling ya about them?"
Lanyan's gaze went wide. "That's a Tagh?"
"Aye. I can tell from here. Normal Trolls don't ever get ta that size. They’re rare in these parts anyway." Gort could only make out the top of its black and green head, above that its flat, bumpy nose, but that was enough for him.
"It's just laying there. I wonder why."
Gort placed his hand on the Elf’s arm. "Not sure, but I suggest ya do na get close enough ta find out. Not alone, that is."
"Well then, let's go." Lanyan looked back as whispers and murmurs bounded about, the entire group drawing further away. "Carefully." He whispered, his eyes falling on Gort, the only one that appeared eager to go with him. "It could be sleeping." Yet at twenty feet away he realized it wasn't snoring, and ten he could hear that it wasn't breathing, and his mind suddenly changed. "I believe it's dead, Gort."
"How can ya tell?"
"It's not breathing." Lanyan turned his head so that his ear faced it, waiting as long as he could before the Dwarf got impatient. "Still not breathing."
"I'm going to make sure of that before we get any closer." He whispered, tugging one of his hammers from his belt, raising his arm back and taking aim at the Tagh's head."
"Are you mad?" Lanyan tried to pull his arm down.
The Dwarf pulled away. "Ye'r tha one who said it wasn't alive."
"I said I thought it was dead. You're the one sure enough to hit it with a hammer."
"That's not because I am sure, I'm gonna make sure." Gort’s arm raised higher.
"My Lords..." Sarahlya had spoken, now close enough to speak to them, but neither had even noticed her ride up.
"And there by enraging the creature?!" Lanyan bit.
"What do ya want me ta do? Ask it?!"
"I want you to use a little common sense for once." Lan’s volume increased.
"Common, eh!?" Gort barked, aiming his hammer at Lanyan.
"MY LORDS!" Sarahlya spoke again, this time much louder, succeeding in her efforts to draw their attention. "Striking it will not be necessary."
"Why?" Lanyan asked, finally drawing his attention to her.
"Because Lord Lanyan, it's dead." She bowed slightly.
"How can you be so sure?"
She smiled at Lanyan, patting him on the shoulder, the Dwarf she simply glared at. "Because anything in the known world would have woke up from the sound of you two arguing. It, did not." She eased passed them and rode all the way up, trotting around it almost as though she was bragging. "See? Dead."
Then headed passed it without a second thought, Gort waiting, hoping she was out of earshot when he spoke. "I like that girl."
She was not.
Lanyan's chuckle came after he heard one from Sarahlya. "Aye, she's... spirited." He marked, riding up to the corpse. Dead. For certain, caused by a long puncture across its chest. Lanyan leaned further, almost positive he saw the mark was seared, but Gort’s question forced him straight.
"Are ye just going ta leave it there?"
"Well what should I do? Pick it up and move it? Do you want to?”
Gort tightened his mouth. "No."
"Then leave it. Ride around it."
Gort huffed, turning back to every other elf behind him. "Leave it. Ride around it."
All did.
But Lanyan had to give one final look to it, and questions stirred in his mind that he didn't want to voice. What happened to that thing, and what killed it. He surely would have liked to investigate more, but sixty-four elves riding across an open field was an easy target for anyone to find, and he would rather get them to safety. Though as he continued on, he made the decision to share those queries with Elryia the moment they were back at Forgas.
In A Time Of Darkness Page 113