But maybe a combination attack would surprise her.
“Dethlis silles ontore.”
For a moment, nothing seemed to happen – Liená even raised her eyebrows, as if amused. But her humour was unfounded.
A hotwave came at her.
It was genius, really: heat had no trouble going through vacuums, and shock had no trouble going through cold. If anything, it went faster.
But something went wrong.
The heat section sped up; the shock section came in well behind. Liená had more than adequate time to prepare.
She laughed.
“Oh good, very good. Although the physics are very difficult, you had the right idea. Now let me have a go.”
“Tú gcoinne i aigne, chumhacht.”
At first there was nothing; at first silence covered the sky. Then there was noise.
Incredible, painful noise. It was like the buzzing of a thousand wasps, the vibrations of a million mosquitoes, or the laughter of endless demons.
Linaera looked around. Nothing was there. Then she realised that the sounds were not coming from outside – as if Liená had suddenly gained the power to open Hell itself – but from inside her head.
The noise overwhelmed her. She could imagine herself in the lair of the damned, running; screaming; laughing.
But something came through the madness: a message.
Stop it.
She felt around her mind, noting the origin of those alien sounds, those words of doom. She clamped.
The voices – and the screaming – stopped.
But not before she was hit.
It was a shockwave, precisely calibrated, viciously clever. It smashed into her wards, and they broke. She was left upside down, on her butt.
Just like she had imagined.
“Come, Linaera. If you’re past your wounded pride, you’ll notice something new.”
“The voices…”
“The sound attack, yes. I imagine you weren’t trained to deal with it, judging by your surprise. That is understandable: it is a dangerous thing. Yet I’m impressed by how quickly you managed to counter it – some never do so on their own.”
“It’s horrible.”
“It’s effective. That’s what matters. Also, this should be a lesson: never focus your defences on to one point. You may be secure physically, but your mind can still be vulnerable.”
“Thanks, Liená. Now I have to deal with your son.”
“Come on, Deriën! I see you’re prepared!” Liená shouted.
The elf in question appeared suddenly. He wore the Hunters’ clothing: cloak, shirt, trousers, all in green. A bag was on his hip – Linaera imagined it was for carrying money, even though the Elves didn’t seem to have any.
“Hi,” she said.
“Hi,” Deriën replied.
There was an awkward pause.
“So—”
“So—”
They both stopped.
“My most pressing concern,” Linaera began, “since you seem to be my guard, is: have you got any money?”
Deriën frowned.
“You do know that humans use money, right? I know I have this necklace, but it’s so valuable people will try to steal it from us. Besides, it’s kinda pretty.”
“Gétris decided to give me some gold. We don’t have very much of it, but since its use is mainly limited to making pretty baubles like yours, he was fine to give me some. Now, aren’t you worried about other things?”
“Like what? Weapons? Food?”
“I can forage; there is no need to carry food. Especially if you want us to outrun this Necromancer of yours.”
“Well first, he’s not ‘my Necromancer’. Secondly, what? He’s got an army to order: it’s not like he’ll be sprinting us or anything.”
“I suspect the humans won’t last very long against him, if he’s anything like what you describe. What’s more, we’re taking an alternative route to avoid him. Unless you plan on visiting?”
Linaera replied with a shudder.
“I thought not. Now follow me. Gadalthal will be leading us out; then we’re on our own.”
“Deriën,” his mother said sweetly.
“Yes, goodbye mother. We’ll be back, don’t worry.”
Linaera turned round.
“Thank you, Liená. You have taught me much; I can appreciate that, even if I suspect I’ll never truly understand you.”
Liená smiled.
“Why thank you, Linaera. Good luck on your journey – and do keep your manners. Some people have not been so courteous.” She threw Deriën a pointed glance.
Deriën shrugged.
“Let’s move. Day doesn’t last long in Winter – and I’m planning on getting out before night.”
“You sure you’re ready for it?” Linaera asked.
Deriën glared at her.
“I can handle a few, humans, thank you very much.”
He left; Linaera followed, cursing him under her breath.
***
Deriën walked; Linaera stomped.
Aláthelia stood behind them. It was the quintessential image of peace: elves worked freely, laughing merrily and occasionally singing with the birds. It was free of hatred, or of fear, or of war-mongering. She wished the rest of Arachadia could be like it – bureaucratic Councils be damned.
Deriën was humming, tunelessly. The sun was on his right: south.
At least he knows where he’s going.
“Are you going to just walk ahead of me and sulk? You know you’re not being fair.”
He snorted.
“Since when is the world fair?”
“I’m not saying the world’s fair. What I’m saying is that it isn’t going to improve if you don’t want it to.”
He gave her a strange look.
“You’re smart for a human.”
“Geez, you sure know how to compliment a girl.”
“No, I didn’t—”
“Yes, I know. Why don’t you tell me more about your life. If you want that is.”
“Yeah, I guess Gadalthal told you about…”
“Your father? Yes, yes he did. But I don’t want to talk about that. I know enough about death – believe me. What I want to know is… how was life growing up for you? Was it normal? Was there anything you enjoyed?”
“I don’t know about ‘normal’ but I did enjoy some things. Painting for example. I used to paint lots of stuff: trees, flowers, animals... humans.”
“Were you surprised when you met me?”
“Yes. Yes I was.” They lapsed into silence.
They continued walking through the now empty woods. The quiet felt soothing to Linaera; the forest, protective. She decided to breach another subject.
“What about Gadalthal?”
“I became friends with Gadalthal… after. At first, I envied him for his incredible skill – when he’s not snogging other elves, he’s pretty impressive, you know? But then I came to admire him, and eventually, be like him.”
“Did he help you overcome your loss?”
“I suppose he did. Having someone to look up to was pretty important to me then – it still is now, I guess. Oh sure, I always had Gétris, and a bunch of other elves…”
“But it’s not the same, is it? The comfort they can offer you is muted, more the separate empathy of an intellectual than that of a comrade,” Linaera said, recounting her own experiences.
Deriën gave her another look: Linaera thought she could see a different light in them now, the glimmer of understanding rather than the shadow of doubt.
“You’re right. I never realised it was like that.”
“Hellooo!” Gadalthal called out.
He bounded out of the trees; Linaera wondered whether he had been snooping on them. She wasn’t sure if she cared.
“What are you lot doing out here? I thought you were supposed to be patiently waiting for me while I guided you along. Instead, you’re going off without me. If Der here wasn’t such a
bad tracker, I might have had difficulty in finding you.”
Linaera butted in before Deriën and Gadalthal could lapse into a bout of male rivalry.
“Speaking of that, Gadalthal why are you still here?”
He smiled innocently.
“Why, I can’t walk along with a pretty girl like you? You know what, forget I said that. I’m actually quite curious to see more of the outside world, even if I don’t get to come all the way to Dresh. This place is kinda boring.”
Linaera snorted. She would take boring over this any day.
But then, John would have died for nothing.
Deriën and Gadalthal discussed idly; Linaera tuned them out. She was content to listening to the sounds of animals – the singing of birds, the rustling of field mice, the cries of displeased herbivores – and letting the sun shine on her face.
She had become quite in love with the whole place: she felt more like an old friend than a stranger.
Soon, the elves became quiet as well. They concentrated on avoiding the occasionally thick underbush, or evading naughty branches. (Strangely, Linaera had no such difficulties.)
The sun travelled over the horizon, lazily, contentedly. The group made good progress. It was evident the elves were in their home turf: they walked over everything with cool confidence, like it belonged to them (which, Linaera supposed, it did); their eyes stayed focused on their task, intermittently giving reserved glances to playful animals; they seemed calm, relaxed.
Their weapons remained fastened to their bodies – why would they need them?
Eventually, as afternoon slowly descended, Gadalthal called for a break.
“Are you sure? How are we going to outrun this Necromancer if we stop at every possible opportunity?” Deriën asked.
“Because, my dim witted little friend, you’ll need all your energy once you get past these trees. Out there, you will be an alien, a sheep among wolves. I know you think you can take anyone, and you probably can – the persons we’re dealing with, anyway.
“But how do you know there won’t be some bigoted human ready to choke you in your sleep, when they realise you’re not one of them? Shut up, and get some grub.”
Linaera stared, taken aback. Gadalthal must either have been courageous or mad; no one could speak to Deriën like that.
Deriën simply sighed.
They found a spot between two trees; Gadalthal erected a shelter.
It was strange, really: to see plants move with such incredible speed; to see nature bend to the will of these mysterious beings. (Or was it really the other way round?)
No human could do this. Linaera wondered if she should try.
They sat down, both breathing hard. They had moved much across the forest floor.
Linaera didn’t feel too bad at all, actually.
“I’ll find us some food. There are plenty of herbs around, even in this time of the year,” Gadalthal proclaimed.
He left, along with a nod from Deriën.
***
Linaera decided to voice one of the questions that had occupied her ever since she met the Elves.
“Why don’t you eat any meat, or fish?”
“You mean, why are we vegetarian?”
“Yeah.”
Deriën sat back, sighing in contemplation.
“The main reason is nature. We live with nature, along nature, and for nature. We share our habitat with several other creatures of nature. Why should we take the lives of other animals – regardless of their intelligence – if we can survive perfectly well off what is already there?”
“But how is killing an animal for food evil?”
“We never said it was. Merely that it is unnecessary, and should thus be avoided.”
“Would you kill if there was no other choice? Can you even survive off animals?” Linaera asked, embarrassed that she had not considered the possibility before.
“No… we can, although I doubt our bodies would handle it well. But in answer to your question: yes, I would kill. If it is necessary, it must be done. Even if I don’t like it.”
Linaera decided to go a different route.
“Are you sure killing a plant is any better than killing an animal? We are part of the same food cycle, after all.”
“But a plant does not feel anything,” Deriën replied, puzzled by the question.
“Are you sure? I’ve seen the way plants react to the world around them. The way they create thorns to protect themselves, or even the way they react to your magic, although I’m not an expert on that. It would seem they feel something, at least.”
Further conversation was interrupted by the arrival of Gadalthal.
“We’re eating nettle stew!”
Linaera saw the way Deriën wanted to ask more questions, but she decided they could postpone – even if the meal in question sounded completely unpalatable…
“Nettle stew?”
“Humans,” Gadalthal and Deriën said at the same time.
Linaera decided that, maybe, she should try their food. She liked their other foods, didn’t she?
***
The elves cooked. First they made a fire; then they took the nettle from a bag; then they boiled it.
Its aroma suppurated into the air: it smelled like toxic weeds, or perhaps even hallucinogenic mushrooms.
Like the good soldier she was, Linaera waited. She did so without complaint; she accepted the bowl without fanfare; she didn’t even complain when the sharp, pungent taste of the herb overwhelmed her.
Not one little bit.
Of course, Gadalthal, observant as he was, did notice.
“I guess there are some foods you just don’t like eh?”
“What?” Deriën asked, blissfully unaware as usual.
“Nothing that concerns you, Deriën,” Linaera replied.
Gadalthal handed her some fruit – she took them gratefully, preferring their sweet, soft texture to the more dubious aspects of elven cuisine.
***
The sun hanged precariously on the horizon; it seemed to watch them, laughing with its fingers that did not warm, smiling with its face that did not illuminate.
It wasn’t that late, Linaera guessed. The sun set earlier in Winter. She didn’t know why – was it because of the Gods and their boredom? Or was it due to something else entirely?
The party gained momentum; the forest became a blur of sound and movement, vague green shapes that melted away only to be replaced by stranger forms of refracted light. Linaera’s attention was kept firm – she had no time for idle speculations, though she did manage to observe the chirping of the birds.
At first, they had been jovial: the sound of creatures in a land of plenty, whose greatest concern was finding naughty mates. Then they had been quieter, the sound of animals preparing for night. Now they were silent.
The whole forest became so. The light of dusk – the eerie stillness, the desaturated forms of flowers and trees as they lost all meaning – dawned on them.
“Okay everyone, let’s—” Gadalthal stopped.
He stood still; Deriën did the same. Linaera observed the cause: distant shapes, humanoid, elven, shambling through the forest as if drunk.
There seemed to be a group of them. Linaera could not see their faces, for they were concealed by long, tattered hoods. The hoods of the Hunters.
“Hello, fellow elves! Where have you been?”
They did not answer; they could not answer. They were not elves.
Instead, they attacked.
They moved with unbelievable speed. One moment they were there, the next they were not.
Gadalthal jumped. He moved faster than any human – for no human could have evaded that cold, lifeless hand that came towards him, like the grasp of hungry demons.
Their hoods were revealed; Linaera gasped.
Their eyes were cold, inhuman – the slits of unnatural beings. They shone in blue light, like the twisted glow of phosphorescent worms.
“You will die, elf,
” it spat.
Linaera was surprised they could talk. She was almost too surprised to avoid the sudden lunge of the creatures.
Almost.
Then they were fighting.
The world became a blur, a meaningless cacophony of clangs and moans, groans and hisses. Gadalthal fired arrows as if possessed, and they twanged with every release, thudded with every hit.
It found a creature. It destroyed half its torso; the thing kept going. It momentarily pinned Gadalthal to a tree.
Deriën too was engaged: his sword flashed and swished, and a tangle of lifeless flesh followed. One monster was cut in two – yet it continued on its course towards Deriën, using its arms to pull itself within range. Linaera crushed it under her foot.
Deriën fought on. He moved with a dancer’s grace, his sword reflecting the light like the wrath of avenging angels. He cut; he stabbed; he ripped.
But the monsters were many, so many… they soon enveloped him. Deriën tried to escape. The monsters followed on, moving with terrifying speed.
One hand reached out towards Linaera. She tried to scream, but those cold, deadly fingers choked all air…
Its choking me; it knows I’m mage, she realised. Well, I don’t need spells.
Rage built up. In a flash of heavenly light, the creature was incinerated.
But more came. Linaera used telekenesis to throw two off; she sent a fireball into another; three monsters grabbed her. She concentrated her power, slowly pushing them back… slowly, ever so slowly.
They’re fighting my magic, she realised.
The monsters continued to thrash, their strength so phenomenal even magic couldn’t hold them.
Through the corner of her eye, she spotted Gadalthal. He raised himself on a branch; he fired arrows with rapid, impossible precision. They hit the monster’s wrists, ripping off their hands.
Deriën escaped the fray, decapitating the briefly helpless monsters. Without senses, the monsters became wildly moving torsos. Their heads lay separated, their mouths opening as if still trying to eat forbidden flesh. Eventually, they stopped.
Deriën freed Linaera. They ran.
“Our poison’s useless!” he cried. “Our arrows are covered with it – they shouldn’t be able to survive!”
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