El-Vador's Travels

by J. R. Karlsson

  'At last, our time has arrived.'

  No answer from his assembled forces was forthcoming, not one had breath to draw.

  'Who am I?' Sarvacts asked them.

  'You are our master, you hold dominion over us all.' they replied as one.

  'Who among you knows of the Elf called El-Vador?'

  'All of us know.' came the familiar chorus. Sarvacts had taken some time discovering which of his forces had already seen the boy.

  'Attend to my words closely, I shall not repeat them.'

  They shuffled closer to him then, as if to ensure that they would not miss what he was about to say.

  Sarvacts opened his palm and an orb of light danced upon it, the yellow light fought the gloom and kept the creatures from advancing any closer. Though he was their master it always paid to be cautious, his paranoia had saved him on many occasions.

  'Why did my previous agents fail to lead El-Vador to my domain?'

  An eerie humming rose from the bodies in concerto. 'El-Vador was wary of your forces and shot them.'

  'He shot them? Arrows do not extinguish my power over your bodies. Explain how this is possible.'

  The voices continued as one. 'Your agents attempted to waylay the Elf and were shot at, when they retreated to lead him to your domain something else happened. A struggle ensued. Your men died.'

  'How can you say that something else happened without specifying what it was?' Sarvacts asked, his temper starting to get the better of him. 'Are you not omniscient with regards to the actions of said Elf? How then can you not perceive what happened to prevent my agents from succeeding in their task?'

  'We see all that this Elf does.' the creatures replied. 'This one act eludes us still. We have no further explanation, El-Vador yet lives.'

  'Then I shall just have to send further agents to get the task completed.'

  The small orb on his hand vanished as Sarvacts glared at it, making his way to the chamber exit. 'Out of my way!' he growled, shouldering his way past the circle of figures. 'Go back to your darkened corners and think over that which you have missed.'

  As he stalked angrily from the cavern, the creatures began their tired shambling back to the edges of their prison. All but one.

  In the darkness, unmoving, stood what was once an Elven woman known as Phaedra. She stood alone, unmoving and did not retreat into the depths of the cavern.

  Sarvacts had shoved his way past her in anger, his touch had broken whatever hold he had previously kept upon her without his knowledge.

  It slowly dawned upon Phaedra that she could now do whatever she wanted. Even escape.

  The others had returned to the depths of their dwelling, but Phaedra felt no compulsion to do so. She needed to leave this foul place, to undo what had been done to her. Could she really just leave the chamber and return to the world she once knew? How had such a simple touch broken the spell?

  That was when she remembered how Sarvacts always kept them at a distance, it was fear of their touch undoing the spell that had caused it.

  No, Phaedra thought to herself. The spell was not entirely undone, she was still trapped in this hideous form and would be hounded wherever she went.

  Whatever else might be, she was still a creature to be reviled, not dead and not really alive. She had been held in this state by this monstrous Orc for an unknown length of time. She had no doubt that everyone she once knew had been slain in their conquest of her lands. She had been denied her rightful place among them, and she wished for nothing as much as to join them in eternal slumber.

  What could she do now? She could not end herself for fear of not joining her kin and should she demand that Sarvacts destroy her he would simply restore his control over her once more.

  Phaedra searched her memories, could she free the rest of her kin as she had been freed herself? What else was there left to do in this realm before passing into the next? The answer swam up through the depths of her mind, the very thing that Sarvacts feared most.

  The point of her previous focus under the Orc also potentially held her release, along with the release of the others in this cavern.

  She knew what she must do now. She must find the one known as El-Vador.

  El-Vador had slowly tracked his way through the mountains, the cold and jagged teeth that separated the Elven lands from others. He carried a sword in his grip and his keen eyes scanned the horizon for further trouble. A bow was slung across his back which he used for hunting game and keeping himself fed. Compared to the scarcity of the woodland creatures in his former home there was a veritable bounty for him to live off on his way down from the peaks.

  He shivered at the memory. It had been unnatural, those creatures that had attacked him before, and he had seen enough of that from his last encounter with the beast from the cavern. The voice had been silent regarding the attack, apparently it hadn't been the creature's doing.

  It would undoubtedly be considered inhospitable in these parts by many, to El-Vador it seemed a perpetual summer. Though it was not warm enough to discard his furs to ward off the chill, he no longer struggled through the cold nights. In spite of this he slept lightly, wary of a further attack from the same shambling forces of before.

  It was no easy journey on such light sleep, he had little choice in the matter though. Heading north to discover what was left of his people seemed defeatist to him, his task of destroying every Orc that lived was the only appropriate response after they had attempted to do much the same to his kin. The wolves in these southern regions troubled him not, they seemed well-fed and less inclined to attack large prey when there was an abundance of smaller quarry about.

  El-Vador's keen gaze travelled across the horizon, he knew that the Orcs lay south of here in great burrows that they called home. He had no idea how far away they were or if he would encounter any civilisation on the way. If he need suffer the elements until he reached his destination then so be it, the voice that plagued him would undoubtedly provide a way upon his arrival.

  He had heard of a city to the south, one constructed by a relatively new race known as the lands-people, they cared little for the affairs of Elves and Orcs but under their roofs he may find the sleep and supplies he needed to further his quest.

  And if the good lands-people should happen to lose a few of their possessions in order to pay El-Vador's way then so be it.

  He would keep travelling south until he discovered signs of these men, if they didn't make an appearance he would keep going until he caught sight of his first Orc. Since leaving the remnants of the stronghold, El-Vador had not set gaze upon anything but prey. He wasn't that concerned about the lack of conversation, his greater worry was that he didn't know where he was going beyond simply walking south.

  A scream cut through the air from the hill directly below them, he slowed in his tracks and crept forward cautiously, unslinging his bow. It would seem that he would have some company after all.

  The noise came from the south, so unless he decided to track around it he had already planned to pass through the area. While part of him was intrigued at what could have caused the screaming, he was no fool. Whatever had made that noise was not inviting and there was no need for him to go charging in and involving himself in matters that didn't concern him.

  He lowered himself into a crouch and carefully crested the hill, peering down at the scene below.

  What must have been a man was standing with his sword drawn against three opponents, all of them fully armed. He was slowly ascending the hill, attempting to reach the higher ground before they attacked. It didn't look like he was going make it. His enemies were circling now and looking to cut him off before he could reach the hills and prevent them from attacking his flanks.

  At first El-Vador considered coming to the aid of this stranger, one man against three opponents seemed dire odds. He stopped himself from interfering, he knew not this man's allegiances or how he would react to an Elf appearing this far south. Better to let these hunters have their way w
ith him and move on. El-Vador watched silently as the battle unfolded beneath him.

  One of the three attackers charged forward, the other two holding back for a moment to watch the action. He swung his axe down and the man parried it, glancing the head wide to his left and using his momentum to swing at the man's ribs. The assailant attempted to dodge the blow but his motions betrayed him and the edge of the blade bit home.

  The attacker groaned and fell back, dropping the axe and clutching at his side, he appeared to be having trouble breathing.

  The second warrior thrust forward with a wicked looking halberd, attempting to skewer the man on its point. The man parried this firmly and then brought his sword down, lopping the halberd in two with a single stroke. He lunged forward at the defenceless man and impaled his throat with the tip of his blade.

  The third attacker had managed to get round to the man's flank unawares, he lunged forward now with his sword at the defenceless target.

  El-Vador's arrow sunk deeply into the man's chest, he let out a cry of choked surprise and fell to the grassy foot of the hill.

  'Who are you, stranger?' the man warily called up to him after a time.

  'That depends on who is asking,' El-Vador replied in the common tongue.

  'I am known as Harlven, a priest of the Church of One.'

  El-Vador had seen religious kin before, none of them brandished swords and fought off ambushes. He approached this stranger cautiously, his bow still at hand lest this be a trap

  'I am El-Vador, I come from the lands north of here, though they are no longer my home.'

  If the man seemed surprised at seeing an Elf in these lands he did not let it show. 'Well met, El-Vador. What made you finally decide to aid me in my fight against my would-be killers?'

  'To watch a man die at the hands of three others when he was clearly trying to defend himself seemed a poor choice.' El-Vador pointed at the sword that Harlven's still held. 'though I have never seen a holy man outfitted for combat so well as you.'

  'I am from a warrior caste.' Harlven said. 'often we come across those who wish us to cease spreading our word.'

  El-Vador shrugged. 'I have no quarrel with your religion or who you choose to spread it to.' He saw no reason to continue speaking to the man and began to head south once more.

  'Hold, stranger,' Harlven called after him, 'where is it that you're headed in such a hurry?'

  El-Vador tensed slightly, fearing an altercation now that this swordsman was in close quarters. 'I travel south to the human cities, what is it to you?'

  'You aided me valiantly against those thugs, I am in your debt.'

  'Tell me where the nearest city is and we are even.'

  'Three day's march south of here, the road you're on leads right to it.' Harlven said. 'it is a sinful place full of dangerous people, what takes your feet there?'

  El-Vador smiled at the piousness of this priest as he still held his bloody blade. 'I require rest and supplies in preparation for my journey further south.'

  The thought of helping a stranger seemed to cause the priest's face to light up in a disconcerting way. 'my church is not far from this place, surely for saving my life you would not spurn our hospitality? Come with me, you shall be well rested and prepared for any future ventures.'

  El-Vador mused over the offer, deciding not to reject it immediately. He wanted nothing to do with priests or their religions but they would undoubtedly treat him better than the slums of the cities to the south. The thought of a hot meal and a sheltered bed for a few days without need of coin was very tempting to him after living out in the wild for as long as he had. He had saved the man's life, after all, and in his position El-Vador would certainly wish to offer some means of repayment. A person of good character paid his debts. It was only fitting that he give the priest a way to offer his gratitude.

  'Very well then, I shall follow you to this church. I can spare a few days delay if it were to the benefit of my health.'

  The region in which they traversed didn't level out any from his previous journey south. Harlven explained to El-Vador that it was the Lord's will that these peaks kiss the heavens so that mortals may be a step closer to the divine. The Elf listened but offered no comment on the matter, he wasn't going to be drawn into a theological debate for fear that it would somehow turn sour.

  The path rose steeply, and El-Vador found that his chatty companion now seemed more preoccupied with his footing than on making conversation.

  'I am but a novice with the blade.' he finally said, patting the sword by his side. 'at the church you will meet members of my warrior caste that dwarf my skills, true masters of the art.'

  El-Vador mused over the possibilities, was there something he could learn from this journey to aid him against the Orcs?

  After a treacherous trek through the mountains they finally came to the church that Harlven had spoken of. He had no idea what to expect, the largest structures he'd ever seen were the houses of his old settlement. Before him stood a massive stone keep that looked as if it had been carved out of the side of the mountain.

  The sheer size of it caught El-Vador off guard, it looked impossible for mortal hands to have constructed such a monstrosity. The closest thing he had to compare it to was Sarvacts' Orcish stronghold, yet even that looked like a child's toy compared to the grandeur of this fortress.

  To El-Vador's youthful eyes it seemed impossible for such a thing to exist, its size but a trick of the eye, but as they grew closer to the high walls it seemed to increase in permanence.

  Harlven smiled at El-Vador's expression, clearly he had not been the first to be affected this way. He led on, El-Vador barely listening as he expounded upon the history of the vast stone coated in snow.

  The path became steeper, arcing upward to the gaping mouth of the gateway that still lay some distance away but he couldn't help but feel intimidated by. His trust in this strange man and his hospitality took a hit in the face of such a foreboding structure.

  Harlven stopped and cocked his ears to the wind, as if listening.

  El-Vador strained his own senses in the chilly drift and heard heavy breathing coming from ahead, he peered into the thick snow but couldn't see a thing. Ahead of them lay a mound of large boulders, it was the only place the noise could be coming from.

  He listened carefully once more, the breathing had stopped. Had it been his imagination? If it was then why would Harlven also pause in his tracks?

  A moaning noise from behind the boulders gave substance to his thoughts, they were not alone and were still some distance from the entrance of the keep.

  He had never heard anything such as this, it was deep and resonant yet mournful in its tone. It also had the misfortune of blocking their way to safety. El-Vador looked at Harlven in askance, everything about these mountain passages was new to him and he hoped his guide wasn't as surprised.

  The man drew his sword and straightened up. 'This is a poor place for us to be at this moment.'

  El-Vador soon saw what the priest meant by his words.

  From behind the pile of boulders emerged a beast unlike anything the young Elf had ever seen. It was vast in size, covered in a shaggy snowy pelt and sporting thick gums and wrinkled features. There was a madness in its sad grey eyes that made El-Vador take a step back. Its face was a strange combination of man and beast, feral yet not entirely so. It seemed to consider the two travellers for a moment, a semblance of thought passing over it, only to vanish under the depths of a primal hatred. It lumbered toward them at a frightening pace, its long arms planting into the snow and propelling it forward without losing grip. It didn't take El-Vador long to realise that he didn't want to be in close quarters with such a thing.

  'A yeti!' Harlven shouted, answering El-Vador's unasked question. 'We cannot fight this with swords alone.'

  El-Vador unslung his bow, never taking his gaze from the target. 'Has it a weak point?'

  'No. If you have skill enough with that bow to have the chance to blind it th
en do so.'

  'Can we not run back and seek cover?' El-Vador asked, knocking his first arrow.

  'A man is no match for a yeti in the snow.' Harlven said. 'I doubt that an Elf would fair much better.'

  The yeti continued to bound toward them, El-Vador didn't think he'd have much luck trying to skewer that tough pelt with his arrow but let fly all the same.

  The arrow bounced clear of the pelt and away into the drift, apparently his assumptions had been correct. Knocking a second arrow and aiming higher now, he sighted the creature's eyes and tried to stay calm as their gaze bored into his own.

  The arrow streaked out into the cold air and bit home. The yeti let out a howl and stumbled, unfortunately for its prey the head of the arrow had embedded itself in the monster's cheek rather than the eye socket that El-Vador had been aiming for.

  It was with a sense of finality that he realised he wasn't going to get another shot away before the beast was upon them.

  El-Vador set his bow down in the snow and drew his sword, his tight grip upon the leather pommel betraying the nerves that had crept into him. 'Any suggestions?' he asked the priest.

  'We split sides as it charges, it can't take both of us at once,' he ordered. 'I will take the right flank, you go for the opposite.'

  But before the two could move, the yeti gathered speed, pounding on even faster now that it had been hurt and then finally launching for them.

  El-Vador leaped to the left of the beast and raised his sword, the yeti landed where they had previously stood in a spray of snow and howling. It pounded the ground in frustration and turned to face the priest, completely blocking him from El-Vador's sight.

  He swung his sword, chopping downward at the beast's exposed back before it could land a blow upon his ally. The yeti was wary of his assault and a sweeping arm sent the Elf flying into the air.

  It turned its attentions once more to the priest, roaring at the man as he tried to slice at it with his blade.

  To El-Vador the sound was muffled, he picked himself off the ground slowly, staring at the scene before him and wondering where he was.