The Axe's Edge

by Summers, Derick J. M.

  No, he would much rather have stayed in the comfort and luxury of his chambers high in Er’thaental. Unfortunately, Aerlian’thor wanted him here and Aerlian’thor was the clan chief. Well, for now anyway. A little more time playing the dutiful vassal and Ar’n’tor was almost guaranteed to be the old mage’s successor, especially now that the prodigal daughter had so effectively screwed up.

  Imagine, he thought with disgust. Bonding with a human.

  No, his time would come, for now he would just have to do his best to play his part.

  The warriors surrounding him ghosted through the forest with neither a complaint nor even a sound. Ar’n’tor might have been impressed if he hadn’t seen it all before. Silent travel was the mark of an Elfin warrior. The stories were endless and, as far as he was concerned, routine.

  That was the problem with the Elves, he grumbled. We spend too much time celebrating the small and stupid things and not enough on the big ones.

  Silent travel wasn’t anything he couldn’t have accomplished through magic. He could have easily used his magic to float through the forest, never needing to even dirty his shoes. But he knew that his fellow mages would talk about his ‘waste’ of energy, particularly when performing such a feat would require him to draw on theirs. It wasn’t that floating was a great drain on a mage’s power. However, maintaining it for days on end would be another story. Though, saying that, he was the leader and that’s what the others were there for, to act as reserves of energy in times of need. Ar’n’tor sighed and reminded himself that for now, appearances still mattered. He couldn’t appear to be flaunting or wasting magic.

  Besides, he thought slapping at another of the flying pests. That wouldn’t do anything about the damn bugs. Again, a simple bit of magic could take care of them, a simple field of energy around his aura would fry the little buggers to oblivion and he wouldn’t even need to draw on anyone else’s power to maintain it. Unfortunately, with that whole nature’s guardian’s nonsense, he knew that exterminating the little critters would cause quite the uproar.

  Lan’thor ghosted past, giving a quick nod as he moved silently through the forest foliage. Ar’n’tor watched his retreating back resentfully as the Elfin warrior leader disappeared into the verdant forest.

  Speaking of little pests I wouldn’t mind exterminating, thought Ar’n’tor.

  The last time he’d taken a force through the forest, he had been in charge of it. The mages, the warriors, everyone! This time the party was larger and he should have been in complete command. As the most powerful mage present it was only right, but he wasn’t. He was charged with leadership of the mages, nothing more. Lan’thor had overall command of the party as a whole. The idea of taking orders from anyone didn’t sit well with Ar’n’tor at the best of times, but having to take orders from a warrior with no magical ability was simply outrageous. There was an order to things, an evolution, and mages were at the apex of it. Warriors, in his opinion, were little more than barbaric tools that you sent to hit things and distract the enemy while the mages got ready. As far as he was concerned, they were the absolute bottoms of the hierarchy. Ar’n’tor sighed heavily to himself.

  Things will be different when I’m in charge, he thought with a grimace.

  Once that fool Aerlian’thor was gone and he was made clan chief of Er’thaental’s mages, the clans would quickly learn their place. There would be no more of this council nonsense.

  Yes, he thought with a gleam in his eye. Things will be much different indeed.

  Many miles to the North East, in the heart of the Great Swamp, an old man with sightless eyes turned to his companion and smiled.

  “Siris, they come,” he announced. “Fifty warriors. No more.”

  The man beside him, young and strong and in very good health for someone so recently dead, allowed his own grim smile to cross his lips as his own gaze fixed on the South West.

  “Such arrogance. How long?”

  Reese cocked his head slightly to one side, as though listening to distant voices, before answering.

  “By the next new moon.”

  The young man’s smile grew larger, though no more pleasant.

  “Plenty of time to arrange a proper reception for our pointy eared friends,” he purred. “I am pleased, Ares will be pleased. Letting the Dark Elf escape was a brilliant idea, my friend. The great Ares will have his conquest and his blood. And, we will have our revenge on those who took so much from us.”

  The old man nodded his appreciation.

  “There is something else.”

  The young man lifted an eyebrow and waited for the old mage to continue.

  “Four Elf mages travel with them.”

  “That is not unexpected,” replied the younger man. “Will they be a problem?”

  The sightless, old mage smiled gleefully to his companion.

  “They think they will be, they’re quite certain of it really, but they are young and inexperienced.”

  The younger man chuckled at this.

  “It seems then, that they don’t consider you much of threat, my friend.”

  “They will!” the old mage replied coldly. “Arrogance will cost them dearly this time.” He paused to consider for a moment. “Though, I think I might have some fun with them first.”

  “Oh?” asked Siris, genuinely interested in what his companion had in mind. A wicked smile played across the old mage’s lips.

  “Yes! It seems that the mage in charge of the expedition is more than a little dissatisfied with his lot in life. He strikes me as an Elf with some very human ambitions.”

  His companion laughed heartily at that.

  “Young, foolish and greedy, just how we like them.”

  Reese’s smile grew broader.

  “Quite!”

  I Think We’re Being Watched

  Lan’thor couldn’t get over the strange feeling of wrongness that had settled over him shortly after leaving the security of the Elfin village. Initially he had put it down to the stress and insecurity of leading his first real mission. But as time progressed and his warriors moved smoothly through the forest, he concluded that wasn’t it. Something didn’t feel right and all his instincts were trying to warn him about something.

  The strange itch between his shoulder blades continued and Lan mentioned his concerns to Raeth, whom he had acting as one of his scouts as they moved closer toward their goal. She shared his apprehension, her own instincts warning her as well, but so far, she had been unable to find anything to warrant it. They both agreed that something felt wrong, unfortunately, neither was able to put their finger on exactly what it was. Everything seemed to be running smoothly.

  The warriors were moving well and making good time through the forest and his other scouts hadn’t found anything of concern. Even the mages, known for being the weak link in a forest march, were managing to keep up, though Ar’n’tor grumbled constantly. Lan’thor knew that mage was not pleased about being placed under his leadership and would bear watching as the mission progressed, but he was fairly certain that the Elf didn’t pose any immediate threat.

  Still, the feeling persisted, that itch between his shoulder blades, the feeling one got when an archer had his sights on you. That primal part of your brain telling you that you were in danger, that someone meant you ill. The feeling was exhausting and Lan soon found himself looking over his shoulder again and again, but there was never anything there.

  At camp on the second evening, against his better judgement, Lan sought out Ar’n’tor and spoke with him about his concerns. Lan tried his best to explain the feeling of being watched, but the Elfin mage dismissed him out-of-hand.

  “Perhaps, you should leave the metaphysics to the mages.”Ar’n’tor suggested. “We’re trained in what to look for. I assure you that if anyone were watching us we would know it long before a bunch of superstitious warriors.”

  Lan’thor did his best not to roll his eyes at the mage’s arrogance and hoped he was at least partly success
ful.

  “Obviously,” continued Ar’n’tor, too busy acting superior to notice Lan’thor’s eye roll. “Your inexperience is getting to you. Perhaps, you would feel better if I took over leadership of the expedition.”

  Lan’thor stared flatly at the mage.

  “No, that won’t be necessary! Good night!” Lan replied before taking his leave.

  Lan was angry as he strode into the night. He had known better than to share his concerns with Ar’n’tor, known that the arrogant mage would perceive his concerns as weakness. The more he thought about the exchange, the angrier he got, at Ar’n’tor and at himself. Ar’n’tor was everything the world imagined when they thought of Elves - superior, arrogant, conceited, selfish and entitled. The mage was a walking stereotype. He represented everything Lan prayed he could change about his people and, everything he knew never would, as long as Elves like Ar’n’tor achieved any sort of power.

  By the time the sun rose, it was all Raeth could do to stop him from seeking out the arrogant mage and impaling him on his sword.

  After settling Lan’thor as best she could, joining him for a quick breakfast and leaving him embroiled in the troop’s morning preparations, Raeth took her leave, well ahead of the main group. The assassin moved into the forest as Lan’thor watched and disappeared from view within five paces. He shook his head in amazement, the Elves were good, Raeth was better. The posted sentries were completely oblivious to her passage as Raeth slipped by them and into the forest proper. She was going out to scout the route ahead. She was hoping to be able to set Lan’thor’s mind at ease. Lan hoped she’d find something, but part of him knew that she wouldn’t. He felt pretty certain that whatever was currently tracking them wasn’t doing it through physical means.

  Gods, he thought and not for the first time. What I wouldn’t give to have El and Logan here.

  Besides the security and confidence that came with having his friends around him, it would be a great boon to the entire mission to have a mage he could trust watching his back. Lan’thor shook his head in frustration. In the short-term all he could do was set up extra sentries, send out more scouts and pray that they had enough warning to prepare for whatever faced them.

  A Peaceful Night’s Sleep

  After a long day and a very quick pace, Lan’thor’s warriors were definitely ready to break for evening camp. Lan’thor’s frustration with Ar’n’tor had led him to set a blistering pace through the forest and his warriors, ever up for a challenge, had matched him step for step. Lan’thor realized that he was pushing himself and his warriors harder than he should and he knew that he would have to give them an opportunity to rest before they reached the Dark Elf village and whatever waited for them there. But, for now, he found a great release in the simple physicality of moving through the forest.

  The mages were struggling to keep up with the warriors as they moved at speed, and Lan’thor knew that his warriors secretly shared his joy at their struggles. Though all Elves were equal in the village, the mage clan’s attitudes suggested they felt that they were slightly more equal than the rest, dismissing their brethren’s talents in anything not related to the magical arts. Not every mage was like that of course, El’dreathia for example, was one of the most down to earth mages that Lan’thor had ever met. She treated everyone with the same level of compassion and respect, whether mage or warrior, traveller or artist, Elf or human or gnome. It was one of the things that had so drawn him to her in their early years.

  But these mages, the ones attached to this mission, had been hand picked by Ar’n’tor. As the commander of the mages, it was of course his right. He had to ensure that the mages under his command would work well and harmoniously with him. Unfortunately, it also meant that they shared Ar’n’tor’s ideologies to some degree. In this case, they agreed warriors were little more than fodder to distract an enemy until the mages could bring their talents to bear on the situation. Lan’thor hoped that by showing those mages the warriors’ superiority in the physical pursuits, he might instil in them a measure of respect for his Elves. While that was his hope for the mages under Ar’n’tor’s command, he felt fairly confident that nothing he, or his warriors, did would earn that particular mage’s respect.

  As the Elfin warriors began setting up their camp, the mages huddled together in a rough circle trying their best to catch their breath, while simultaneously trying not to appear like they were doing any such thing.

  The sun had long since dropped below the horizon as the evening meal was completed and the various members of the expedition, at least those not taking the first sentry shift, made for their bed rolls. There was little conversation after the exhausting day and soon the camp slept. In true Elfin fashion, they slept under the stars. Thankfully, this close to the equator, the nights were warm and the fires were unnecessary for anything other than cooking.

  As was standard, the mages slept closest to the centre of the camp, the most protected position. In the event of an evening raid or attack, it would fall upon the warriors to protect the mages from physical harm with their very lives if need be. This was for the good of the entire group as it gave the mages time to launch a counter attack.

  Ar’n’tor had made it abundantly clear that as the lead mage in the mission, his position was clearly at the centre of the defensive circle of not just warriors, but mages as well. Lan had simply shaken his head and allowed the mage his perceived position of honour. As far as Lan was concerned, his place was with his Elves and that is exactly where he slept, refusing any ‘honoured’ position.

  Lan had brought the warrior Le’land with him, hoping to give the young Elf a chance to prove himself after the debacle of his last assignment. Le’land was honoured, he understood that Lan’thor was giving him a second chance and had promised himself that he would not squander it. His respect for Lan’thor had grown immensely since their time at the Hammersmith homestead and the elf took it upon himself to ensure that Lan’thor’s bedroll was always prepared and his camp set or broken down as necessary. Lan’thor told him repeatedly that he didn’t need to worry about it, that he was capable of setting up and caring for his own gear. Le’land simply smiled, shrugged and pointed out that Lan’thor was actually responsible for all of them, warriors and mages alike, and with fifty to look after, accepting a little help was hardly unreasonable. Lan’thor grumbled to the amusement of the other warriors but accepted the assistance.

  Strategically, Lan’thor had a problem with the standard Elfin military sleeping arrangements. Quite simply, they were standard and had been so for centuries. Any adversary who knew anything about fighting Elves would wait till they were all asleep and send a fireball or a good sized rock into the middle of camp and cripple them. Elfin thinking did not prepare for this possibility and as such, Lan’thor preferred to move his sleeping position from night to night.

  Ar’n’tor, circled by his sleeping mages and then by the sleeping warriors, dreamed. The dream was one he had had before, one he’d actually been having for years. He was back in Er’thaental, in the great Star Hall where the clan chiefs met to conduct the village’s business. He was sitting on the mage clan’s throne. Before him knelt the mages of his clan, their heads bowed respectfully as they honoured their chief. It was a dream that always brought a smile to his face.

  You dream too small, my friend.

  The voice that filtered through his dream was soft and low, though it easily carried, echoing through the hall. Ar’n’tor searched with his eyes, trying to find the speaker who dared interrupt his dream. Nothing but shadows caressed the outer walls of the hall.

  Too small, the voice said with certainty, seeming to come from everywhere at once.

  Explain yourself! boomed Ar’n’tor in frustration from his throne.

  Explain? I will show you instead.

  Before Ar’n’tor’s widening eyes, the scene in the Star Hall began to change. The far doors opened and Elves began to stream into the massive room. No longer was it simply mages who knel
t before him, they were joined by Elves from the village’s other clans. All walks of life, all occupations, entered the great room, descending onto the recessed floor of the central star. Warriors, travellers, healers and artists all gathered and knelt before him. As the last of the Elves entered the hall, Ar’n’tor gaped in wonder. The other clan chiefs rose from their own thrones to kneel before him, even Lean’thor, as proud and powerful as they came, bowed his head and bent his knee before him.

  You see? Too small.

  Ar’n’tor felt a rush at the adulation.

  Yes, this is how it should be, my friend. This is how you should truly be honoured.

  If any in the camp had been awake to see it, they would have wondered at the predatory smile that grew across Ar’n’tor’s sleeping face as he nodded his agreement with the speaker in his dream.

  We Are Not Alone

  Though El and Logan were making good time through the forest, Logan couldn’t shake the feeling that it wasn’t good enough, that they would not be able to catch the Elves at the edge of the swamp as he had originally planned. He wasn’t sure where the feeling came from. He’d had no indications or signs to suggest that things wouldn’t happen exactly as he’d originally planned. Call it instinct or intuition, but Logan just knew that the timing wasn’t going to work.

  To confirm what his feelings were telling him, the next time he and El stopped for a quick break he asked El to check on Lan’s progress. El cast out her senses magically, searching for Lan and the Elfin warriors. She immediately focused her senses on the forest region where she expected the warriors to be. After a moment, she tried narrowing in on Lan’s aura to determine the groups location. To her surprise, there was no sign of them. Acting on Logan’s suggestion that they might be moving faster than expected, she moved her consciousness forward, searching for their auras in the dense forest. She finally found them many miles ahead of where she had anticipated. Both she and Logan had assumed that moving a large group of warriors, even Elfin warriors, through the dense forest would entail relatively slow progress, particularly when you factored in making and breaking camp every evening and morning.