by Toni Cox
He guided his horse over the uneven footing as fast as was possible. All their horses were already sweating and breathing hard; they would be half-dead by the time they reached the city.
“Hold on, Firestorm, I know you can do this,” he whispered to his young mare and she pricked her ears at his voice.
His men were equally tired; the fight had been hard. Had it not been for Midnight, they might not have made it. He shuddered at the thought and sent a silent thank you to his sister, for it was surely she who had sent Midnight to his aid. He wondered where she was now and if she was safe. They had been preparing for war for Moons now but, now that it was upon them, they seemed to be as unprepared as if they had no forewarning at all. He wondered how they had gotten themselves into this situation. They took precautions; guarded the Gate, rode patrols, hunted stray Vampyres; how was their country so overrun by these creatures? They seemed to be everywhere and this time they seemed to be more organised. They were also well equipped; somehow having acquired uniforms that were undoubtedly elven made. Even their weapons seemed to be of better quality.
As they rode higher into the mountains, a thick mist formed, clinging close to the ground. It slowed them, but they did not stop; they had to push on through. Soon clothing was soaked through to skin and they shivered as they rode higher and higher up the slopes. None of his remaining men complained, but he knew they were as miserable as he was.
Eventually they broke through the mist bank, only to be confronted by massive storm clouds brewing overhead. He heard distant thunder roll across the sky and their horses snorted nervously. To be caught on this trail during a storm could mean all their deaths; the rain could wash out what little footing there was and they would plummet into the gorges.
He gritted his teeth and urged Firestorm to greater speed. The spirited horse responded, but he knew he could not push her like this for much longer. The others were not faring any better.
On and on they rode, even as the first raindrops fell. Jaik only saw the narrow trail before him; trusting Firestorm to find her own way on the slippery rocks. The breathtaking scenery of the forested ridges and gorges through which they rode was completely lost on him; his only aim was to reach Tarron Heights. His men followed stoically behind.
Day eventually turned into night and still they rode on. The rain fell heavier the higher into the mountains they went and the thunder rolled ever closer, echoing loudly through the valleys.
Sometime around midnight they stopped beside a river to water the horses and to consume travel bread. His own legs shook when he dismounted and he saw that his men fared no better. The horses’ heads drooped and their dripping coats made them a sorry sight. He hated to have to push them so hard.
“Mount up,” he ordered, after what he thought had been too long already.
His men followed his order without complaint and the horses stepped out on the uneven footing of the narrow, rocky trail without faltering; there was still some strength left in them yet. They would need it; Tarron Heights would only come into sight by the evening of the following day.
It was easy to follow the spoor the warriors left as they rode into war and the black mare ate up the ground as if she was flying. He was now not far behind and he hoped to catch them soon. He leant closer to her neck and whispered in her ear. Her ear twitched and he felt her muscles bunch up as she gathered for more speed. She was truly a remarkable animal.
To his right, he noticed storm clouds building over the mountains and could not shake the ominous feeling that something terrible was about to happen. He scanned ahead, but there was no sight yet of the people. The mare’s thundering hooves became overly loud in his ears as his worry mounted.
Finally, he came upon a sight that confirmed all his fears. Before him lay a battleground, strewn with Vampyres and Werewolves, all dead. He jumped off his horse and investigated the scene from the ground. Pools of blood had turned the ground to mud and his black mare snorted disgustedly at the smell as he led her behind him.
He took no comfort in the fact that there were no Elves, for he knew, had there been casualties; they would have already been removed. He spent a short time reading the signs of the struggle and found the place where Maia had fought on foot. Anger built within him at the thought. Why was she not with Midnight? Then he found the place where she had healed her people; at least this told him she was all right. What he discovered next, though, worried him the most. The main group of warriors had moved off and Maia and another had been left behind. He assumed it was Rothea, her red-haired bodyguard that was with her. The two had not stayed, but had followed the warriors after a short while. Blaid assumed Maia had been told to stay away, but he knew she would not.
He remounted and followed the tracks left by Maia and her companion. Their tactics impressed him; close enough to the main group to catch up with them within moments, but far away enough that no one would notice. Nevertheless, they were moving at speed towards Greystone and even the black mare was hard-pressed to close the distance between them.
The Gate was not much further; maybe another twenty miles or so; because of the rolling hills, it was difficult to see more than five hundred strides ahead. He was slowly catching up, but Maia remained out of sight. Therefore, when he came upon the point where Maia and Rothea ceased following the warriors, he almost missed it. Assuming that the main aim was to rejoin the warriors once they reached Greystone, he simply followed the broad path left by the warriors. When the two single tracks veered off to the right, it was subtle at first and, had he not by chance looked that way, he might have never noticed.
He reined his mare in and studied the ground. From the tracks, he could tell it was definitely Maia and Rothea but could not tell what made them change direction. They were moving slower now, stopping every now and then as if trying not to be seen. He kept to a steady trot; fast enough to catch up with them, yet wary as to what was going on. If Maia was being this careful, he did not want to put her in danger by barging in on what could, potentially, be a dangerous situation.
After about an hour, he reached the first trees that marked the beginning of Grildor-Bron Forest. He wove his way between the trees and it was clear here that Maia and Rothea had hid from whomever they were following. Steadily, their tracks went deeper into the forest, until at one point Maia’s tracks suddenly crossed those of a group of riders. Scanning the ground, he guessed their number to be around twelve.
Following Maia and Rothea, he now hurried to catch up. There was a smell that lingered here he was all too familiar with; Elves who had been with Vampyres. Whoever these riders were, they were no friends of the Longshadows.
By the time he finally caught sight of Maia, it had started to rain. The wind rushed through the canopy overhead and despite the thick foliage he was soon soaked through. His mare shook her fine head in irritation at the wetness, but then caught scent of the stallion ahead of her. She pricked her ears and danced beneath him. He was worried that she was going to call out, and talked to her, trying to calm her. His voice distracted her and she remained quiet, but then Fire caught her scent and Maia turned in her saddle to look back.
His heart almost stopped when he saw her. It was the same every time. She was the most beautiful, perfect being he had ever met and the circumstances, such as her current, sodden state, would never change that. She was like a bright light amid the dark, wet forest shining just for him.
For a moment, there was complete stillness and he watched her silently form his name with her lips. Then his mare screamed at the two horses, now only about thirty paces ahead, and Rothea charged, sword drawn and held high. Maia yelled and urged Fire after her.
Quickly Blaid turned his mare to the side and Rothea raced harmlessly past him, before she managed to rein in her horse. The trees were tall and thick here and there was little space to manoeuvre. By the time Rothea had turned her steed and was ready to charge again, Maia was beside him, reaching for him. Their horses pranced around each other; snorting and st
omping; but he only had eyes for her.
“My Lady?” Rothea said behind them, a note of panic in her voice.
“It is all right, Rothea,” Maia replied, and then laughed.
They held hands while their horses circled each other, Rothea looking on in amazement.
“What are you doing here?” Maia finally said.
“I’ve come for you, of course. Do you know who you are following?”
“No,” she replied, “but it is strange. I felt something from them that is not right and I am sure they have ill intentions. My father has ridden for Greystone, so we decided to follow them.”
“I know who they are,” he said, “or rather what they are. They are the traitors helping the Vampyres come through the Gate and outfit them with their equipment. I have met a few of them during the past few Quarters and they have some strange beliefs.”
“They are only about a mile or so ahead of us. Will you come with us?”
“I will lead the way,” he replied. “These people are dangerous.”
He squeezed Maia’s hand before he let it go and then urged his mare into a trot. He felt Maia and Rothea follow him and heard them whispering behind him. It was clear that Maia had not confided in Rothea about what he meant to her and Rothea was visibly upset that Maia could be so relaxed in his company.
Concentrating on the wet ground in front of him, he picked up the tracks. The spoor was easy to follow. Their horses’ hooves left deep imprints in the mud. They were making their way deeper into the forest. When the group had reached the wide forest path that led to Shadow Hall, they crossed it and carried on even further into the forest and higher into the mountains. The forest could be a treacherous place and one could easily get lost. It seemed this group knew the forest well, for they wound their way through the trees with confidence and speed. He wondered why he had not come across this group before, but figured that these must have been stationed close to Greystone and they were now fleeing in light of the fighting there.
“Is that Gothra you are riding?” Maia suddenly asked behind him.
“Gothra?” he asked, looking back at Maia. “Is that her name? It’s ghastly.”
Maia giggled. “No one has ever been able to get close to her. She hates everyone. She suits you.”
“I will pay for her,” he said, suddenly aware that he had stolen the horse, “but I will not give her back. She is meant to be with me.”
“I can see that,” Maia replied with a smile that took his breath away. “And she is yours. Consider her a gift from me.”
His heart skipped a beat at Maia’s proclamation. “If she is mine, then I shall call her Lilith. Beautiful and dangerous Lilith.”
“My Lord, Lady Maia.” Rothea interrupted them, her voice anxious.
Blaid quickly sent his attention to what lay ahead. Being around Maia was distracting; he would have to be more careful. He squinted through the rain; the forest now almost dark around them; and then saw what had caught Rothea’s attention. There was the light of a torch; just a flicker of it between the trees, maybe a hundred strides ahead. They would have to be quiet now, or they would be discovered.
“Let us leave the horses here,” he whispered to the women. “We can get closer on foot.”
He would have preferred to sneak up on them alone, but knew Maia would not listen. This was her quarry and he was only here to help. His boots squelched in the mud as he dismounted. Lilith stuck her head under his arm and he laid his hand on her wet forehead.
“Stay here,” he whispered in her ear.
He motioned with his hand to the women and then moved off towards the flickering light. Although the rain, and now also the thunder, muffled their footsteps, he took no chances and used every bit of cover to sneak up on the people who seemed to have stopped as well. He was glad to learn, not only Maia, but also Rothea was accomplished in tracking and walking silently. If he really thought about it, he had not expected anything less. Only the best would protect Maia, and Rothea had given proof of her abilities on more than one occasion during the course of the past Moons.
They were so close now, they could hear talking. The forest was thick here with underbrush and there were plenty places to hide as they approached the small clearing the people had gathered in. He saw that he had guessed their number correctly at twelve, but one of them was injured and they had laid him down on the ground. Blaid could feel that the man was close to death. He was probably the reason the group had stopped here.
Blaid felt some emotion from Maia wash over him and glanced over to her. They were looking at their enemy, yet Maia’s urge to help the man was strong. She was struggling with a decision. He raised his hand to forestall any action on her part; he wanted to listen first and learn what these men were about. The man meant little to him; he had dealt with his kind before.
“We should just leave him here,” one of the men said. “There won’t be a safe place within a hundred miles by nightfall and I want to be long gone by then.”
“Don’t worry. They will have their hands full with this first wave. No one will be looking for us,” a second man said.
“I am not relaxing my guard until we reach Bron. It is still going to take us days to get there and the longer we stay in Grildor, the more dangerous it will become. You know the plans, Ergrin.”
“Theodon is right. We cannot let our guard down. There will be warriors streaming in from all parts of the country to protect the Gate. Just because we know what is coming, does not mean we are safe.”
“At least we know we can safely travel past Tarron Heights,” Ergrin replied to the third man who had spoken. “I must say, those people put up a good fight, holding off Lord Darken for that long.”
“It’s Lord Drokan, Ergrin, and it still won’t be easy. That is heavy going through the mountains. I think we should rest here now and travel at first light. Sander won’t to be able to travel with us, so we might as well make his last few hours as comfortable as possible,” Theodon said.
“Those royals all sound the same to me,” Ergrin sneered and cast a derisive glance at the man lying on the wet ground. Then he went to his horse to take its saddle off.
The others followed his example and began to erect shelters.
“The torch is almost out and there is no dry wood to make a fire.”
“No fires,” Ergrin said. “We don’t want to let everyone know we are here. Just everyone keep quiet and get what rest you can. And someone help Sander. His moaning will attract the wolves.”
Blaid had heard enough. He signalled to Maia and moved away from the clearing. Once they were out of earshot, they took shelter within a thicket.
“What are we going to do with them?” Maia asked in a hushed voice.
“They must not be allowed to leave,” Blaid replied. “I think we need to get what information we can from them and then secure them, so that your father might hold justice over them later.”
“And how do we do that?”
Blaid looked at her; her dark hair was in wet disarray and she was shivering. Rothea hovered protectively by her side and gave him dark looks. He needed to be diplomatic about the solution to Maia’s question, as he wanted Rothea to report favourably about him to Lord Longshadow, but how to capture these men without hurting them? Besides, he could still feel Maia’s urge to heal the injured man, Sander.
“I think we will just have to ask them nicely. I have an idea.”
Quickly he laid out his plans to the women and then they went to take up their positions.
“Good evening, gentlemen,” he said as he stepped into the small clearing.
Around him, the horses spooked as he let them see him for who he was. They pulled on their tethers and soon they were fleeing into the forest. The men, just as taken aback by the full force of his Eläm, reached for their weapons and huddled around the man on the ground.
“What do you want? We haven’t done anything.” Ergrin’s normally derisive voice now had a note of fear in it.
&
nbsp; “No? I must be mistaken then. I thought you might be the ones who have betrayed our nation and sided with the Vampyres.”
“We … certainly did not,” Ergrin said haltingly.
“I don’t believe you, so I will take you into custody and deliver you to Lord Longshadow.”
“Ha, you and who’s army,” Ergrin said, suddenly more confident.
As if on signal, an arrow suddenly buried itself into the earth in front of Ergrin’s feet. He took a startled step backwards.
“Even if I was alone, taking you would not prove difficult for me,” Blaid said. “But as you can see, I am not alone. Besides, it is not my wrath you should be afraid of, but hers.”
Blaid indicated with his head to the right and, as the men looked in that direction, Maia stepped out of cover. There was a moment of silence, before the men felt Maia’s Prime Eläm. Two of the men dropped to their knees and averted their eyes. The others, including Ergrin, remained standing, but the fight went out of them.
“You have betrayed your country and your people and I herewith withdraw my protection over you. You are no longer my charges and I have a good mind to let Death do with you as he pleases.”
Blaid almost smiled; she was truly magnificent when she was angry, even in her sodden state.
“Kneel before me so that you may be judged,” Maia commanded, and without fail they all complied.
In an instant, Rothea was in the clearing and binding the men’s hands behind their backs. Blaid rushed to help her, while Maia stood before them, head held high and looking down at the men with disdain.
“You will be taken to Shadow Hall. The dungeons await you there until the time I have decided apt punishment for you. Tell us everything you know about the Vampyres and I might be more lenient with my justice.”
There was nothing the men could do; the force of the Prime Eläm radiating from him and Maia cowed them.