So there were Orcs living within these woods as well as those in the burrow, perhaps these ones belonged to a more isolated community that El-Vador could exploit for the benefit of his power. He just need let the girl leave and then venture out after her, using her tracks to lead him to their homestead.
'Stop.' the girl commanded, as the Elf made his way to depart.
'Under what authority do you hold me within this grove, little girl?' El-Vador asked, a smirk playing upon his lips at the audacity of this sheltered creature.
'I have seen it in your eyes, Elf.' the girl said, her voice sounding different now. 'You believe that you can simply take their lives to feed your power. You are mistaken, and you are not the only one capable of doing so.'
With a wave of her hand, El-Vador felt his arms constricted, then his balance fled him and he came crashing to the soil not far from the dead.
'No, Elf.' the girl said, clearly not sounding anything like the little girl that she claimed to be. 'You will be coming with us now, as it has been foretold.'
El-Vador had one last opportunity to look up at the crimson cowl of the approaching figure before a further wave of its hand caused him to lose consciousness entirely.
XLVI
I have left behind one legacy in the hearts of many, an imparting of the vengeance from my own heart directly into others.
The makeshift salvage teams worked through the day, attempting to form some sort of entrance into the collapsed burrow in the hopes of discovering survivors. Harg didn't have the heart to tell them that they were far too late, he suspected that most of them knew and were simply digging out of frustration and lack of anything else to do but wait for the last scouting party to return.
They had until sundown before he sent out the remaining fresh forces that he had prevented from digging. The previous scouting party had returned with its full complement recently and no news of the Elf in spite of a thorough sweep of the plains. That left the group he had sent into the forests, which admittedly was one of the furthest destinations from these acrid plains. Something deep in his gut, perhaps some old warrior's sense he had accrued over the years of campaigning, told him that there was a reason they hadn't returned.
Signalling to his guards, Harg mounted the large destrier and they took off in the immediate direction of the faint greenery beyond, the blood-red sun sinking before them as they thundered across the plains at high speed.
They made good time, and had travelled some distance before the dwindling rays of light were replaced by the greenish tinge of their night vision. At this rate of eating up the flat plains they would reach the woods by nightfall and discover for themselves where the scouting party had vanished to.
The steed reared underneath him, causing him to lose control and fall heavily upon the dirt of the plains. Rolling to a halt and protecting his head as best he could, Harg looked up at the offending beast and realised that he wasn't alone in doing so.
The entire company had been involuntarily dismounted from their animals, who panicked and galloped in circles with froth streaming down their lips.
Harg searched the night sky for anything that could have caused such a reaction, a predator or some previously unsighted ravine ahead. Then he noticed the figure in the distance, slowly closing in on their location.
It was swathed in a red robe with the cowl firmly concealing them from all sight, and seemed to glide effortlessly across the plains as if caught on a draft of wind that simply wasn't there. An unnerving feeling grew in the pit of Harg's stomach, causing him to empathise with the plight of the horses. There was something entirely unnatural about the movement of this thing.
As it drew closer, he noticed the body in its arms and almost let out a yell of triumph at the sight. It was cradling the Elf almost effortlessly before it. Had this mysterious arrival come to fulfil the task of the scouts?
He finally blinked his eyes and refocused them once again on the form as it drew close. He had half expected it to disappear like so many of the other dreams and for him to rouse himself once again in his saddle or beside a camp fire. Instead he stared about him at the transfixed warriors he had gathered together, all of them gazing ahead at the new arrival without so much as blinking. They certainly saw as he did then, this was no ghost or trickery of the mind, however surreal the sudden appearance had made it seem.
Harg knew that he must act, he couldn't be allowed to look as dumb-founded and off the pace as his fellow soldiers, otherwise his example would lead to a rout in the face of this supposedly supernatural event. He was so close to getting his hands upon the Elf, he couldn't allow this one being to prevent that.
'Who goes there?' he called out, striding toward the figure with a confidence that he didn't feel.
The figure did not reply, instead it continued its drifting in their general direction. The aura of cold about it caused an involuntary shiver to run up Harg's spine, sending further warnings ringing inside his head.
Involuntarily he took a step back before he realised that he had faltered in front of his kin. Shaken, he forced himself to resume his slow walk toward the creature. He needed to keep pressing forward in the hope that this newcomer would halt when confronted with him.
'Identify yourself or I shall be forced to harm you.' he finally offered the thing, though he knew that an attack on the creature was the last action he wanted to take. There was something inherently wrong about all of this, he had just lost the entire burrow, he couldn't afford to lose his remaining people to any further threat.
It ceased its gliding as it came within a few feet of the obstacle that was the Orcish General. Harg felt an odd sense of relief at the ceasing of movement, though he couldn't place exactly why this thing was less of a threat when immobile.
'You desire this.' the cowled figure hissed at him, thrusting its burden at him without any apparent effort.
Harg gave it a perfunctory nod. 'The Elf is responsible for much death among my people, he must be brought to justice for his crimes.'
'No.' the quiet voice replied simply. 'There is much potential in this one, we shall be taking him.'
The Orcish General ground his teeth at the strange thing that had taken to ordering him about, he did not much like its tone but he knew better than to act unknowingly. 'Under whose authority shall you be taking The Elf away from us?'
It turned its head to him now and he suppressed a shudder, he also noticed that the Elf was now clutched almost protectively to its chest. 'You have not heard of the Scarlet Brotherhood, Orc?'
The name stopped him cold. The Scarlet Brotherhood, the secretive and arcane wing of sorcerers that some members of the council were members of. They were not just Orcs, they were conjurers from all races brought together in pursuit of some ghastly power.
Yet something within him resisted even the power of the creature before him, he had suffered too long at the hands of this Elf to simply allow the miscreant to be carried away clear of his harrowing plans for retribution.
'I can read your heart, Orc. Your ambitions may be tempered by fear for now, but do not let your thirst for vengeance interfere with the Brotherhood's plans.'
Harg knew that he should listen, knew that he was making a terrible mistake. The disgrace of the destroyed burrow, the defeat in the mountains, the subsequent shameful retreat and now to be pushed about by this force beyond his control. It was too much, and he would rather be damned for being honourable than live knowing he had failed yet again.
Looking back upon his men, he saw the resolute distaste upon their faces as well. They were waiting for his command, and judging from their expressions they had already guessed what it would be.
'Attack!' he roared, hefting his axe at the cloaked figure and mounting the final charge, regardless of what the council or brotherhood or anyone thought of his actions.
It would be the last choice Harg would make.
The displacement that Salvarius had felt was palpable as he made his way through the plains with the rest
of the returning Orcs. Harg had barely acknowledged him when he had finally returned at the head of the company, as if he were an errant child that he wished not to focus upon for a time.
It was all winding down in a strange sense of alienation. Not the natural one he had felt from before but a more blatant distancing from the Orcs themselves after judging the actions of their General.
There was nothing more he could do, no distance that he would not go to in order to save Harg from himself, the rest of these judgemental green-skins could rot for all he cared.
The explosion of power took them all by surprise, he had been forced to watch events unfold at a great distance, as Harg had refused to select him to be part of the scouting group to ride out to the tree line in the distance. Instead he had been relegated to a more background role, maintaining vigil over the hopeless restoration efforts of the remnants that these Orcs once called home.
He knew something had gone horribly wrong the moment the darkened rent appeared in the skyline and shot outward. As the Orcs around him gave up a great cry of dismay he squinted at it in the gloom, trying to discern what it was he was watching.
It gushed upward like a liquid tree, branches stretching back down into the earth to form strange roots of some description that seemed to anchor it in place. Only these branches seemed to vanish after a time, and their doing so caused an increasing thickness within the strange trunk of night.
Salvarius called for a mount but none of the Orcs heeded his command, so transfixed were they by this unnatural visage.
Then, as if sensing the terror of its foes, the blackened arms of the tree surged out across the plain in great ropey arcs and buried themselves into the chests of the screaming Orcs surrounding him.
He watched on in horror as the blackness coated them and sucked all life from them, leaving withered husks to be laid low by the weight of their own armour.
As swiftly as it had occurred, nothingness now descended upon the ghostly plains. Salvarius looked about him in disbelief at the mass of bodies surrounding him and laughed, sinking to his knees.
They were dead, all of them were dead. Every last Orc from this accursed burrow had lost its life. Somehow, against all odds, the Elf had done it.
His laughter stilled when he realised where the gout of power had come from. Harg had ridden off in that direction, demanding that the Elf be brought back and punished for his crimes.
A chilling feeling began to settle in Salvarius's stomach as he rushed over to a strangely docile mount and set off in the direction of the forest at a gallop.
It hadn't been part of the deal, he was to let the Elf escape and detonate the burrow after Harg had been safely guided away from this travesty, but not to go back and kill all the remaining Orcs as a result. Could he really trust the Elf after imprisoning him? Had the Elf meant to do away with Harg even after receiving aid?
He spurred his mount onward with an increasing panic, eating up the distance to the border of the forest. So swift was his steed that he almost flew past the bodies.
Slowing to a canter, Salvarius slipped off and immediately searched the surroundings. He was a soldier by trade, and wasn't going to let petty emotion dictate his actions ahead of the necessities of his training.
Nothing greeted him but silence, if any of the bodies were alive or any opposition remained then they had long since vanished from this place. It was too dark for him to discover a trail, so instead he started picking through the remnants to confirm what his heart already knew.
He came across the General shortly after. The Orc's distinctive armour made him easy to spot, and Salvarius knew the moment he turned the body over that his adoptive father was dead.
He didn't remember when dawn approached, or how his throat had closed over as if on fire. The tracks were clear now though, the faint trail of footprints and a cloak returning back into the forest from whence they came.
The Elf had made his final mistake, in having the audacity to go against him he had written his own fate. In leaving a palpable trail with such disdain for care he had invited Salvarius onward.
Rising with a cool rage growing ever within him, the man left the bodies for carrion and pursued El-Vador.
XLVII
There is always choice. All that clouds us from this certainty is the illusion of there being any lack of such choice. In my long journeys I have been in situations far and wide that seem hopeless in their degree of options available to me. At this point it then becomes rather a choice of how to face such limited choices rather than the choices themselves.
El-Vador awoke on a short-cropped grassy plain, he blinked in the sun and roused himself groggily. There was no instant alertness that he had grown accustomed to and that in itself filled him with a strange trepidation.
Propped up on his shoulders, he stared out in wonder at what his eyes informed him couldn't be possible.
The lake was huge beyond comprehension, and seemed to extend permanently around the ground on which he stood, a large hillock of unpopulated land that rose out of the water in a fashion unlike any El-Vador had previously seen.
Was such a huge body of water possible? He had heard tales from wandering trinket sellers of vast quantities separating entire masses of land but he had dismissed them as fictitious. Now that it was staring him in the face he had little choice but to believe.
'I forgot that your kind were from the mountains, this must be quite a shock to you.'
El-Vador jumped, reaching for a sword that wasn't there and finding himself clad in thin robes of scarlet.
The man offered him a warm laugh and stretched a hand out toward him, presumably to help the Elf to his feet. El-Vador ignored it, which brought a shrug but no less of a smile.
'Where am I?' he asked, looking about suspiciously but careful not to take his gaze too far from the man facing him.
'You are in the sanctuary of the Scarlet Brotherhood. My name is Brother John.'
There was something about this human's genial attitude that made El-Vador trust him even less, generally he considered unwarranted joviality as a sign of something to hide. A cheap mummer's trick to plaster over the cracks through which deception would show.
'All initiates to our order start upon the grass, in time they may work their way into the monastery. We do not discriminate based upon racial identity or previous capabilities. We would ask that you do the same.'
El-Vador decided to embark upon a different tack, if this benevolent figure wasn't truly as agreeable as he seemed, he would be hard-pressed to deny this simple question. 'I would like my weapons back. Can you provide them for me?'
The Elf watched the face of Brother John very carefully, yet there was not the slightest of ticks or flickers at the defiance exhibited by his latest captive. If anything the man's smile had broadened, as if an unexpected guest had strolled into his life to rain sunshine and merriment upon him.
'Why of course! It has been some time since we have had one such as you, by all means you may have your weapons returned to you.'
The bow appeared from the cover of the man's robes and was handed over to the Elf without hesitation, the fully loaded quiver and sword soon followed. El-Vador checked them accordingly and they seemed real enough, which made him ponder over how much space was within the voluminous robes of this man.
'What is it that you plan to do with your weaponry now that it has been bestowed upon you?'
For a time El-Vador considered drawing his sword and threatening the man, but a warning voice cautioned him, bringing him back to the forest and the ghastly savaging of the Orcish patrol that had stumbled upon this being. It may well look like a man but it was decked in the same colours as the small girl that had so easily overcome him and presumably dispatched the Orcs.
No, brute force was not the way here, but there were other avenues available for exploration should his host remain so malleable.
'I'm going to leave for a time.' the Elf stated to his robed colleague, studying his face once more f
or any changes in the man's demeanour.
The slightest of shrugs was the only indicator he received. 'Very well then, enjoy your walk. Our lessons can continue at a later date.'
El-Vador wasn't listening, he had heard enough of this man's prattle and instead chose to focus on what seemed of paramount importance; escaping this island and returning to the Orcish lands where he knew that some of Harg's people still remained.
The strange land was surrounded by stone and water entirely on one side, and as he followed this broken wreckage of land that slowly subsided into the blue nothingness the engulfing waters followed. They somehow curved their way about the chosen path and obstructed any further movement, lapping constantly against the rock as if laying the earth before them under siege.
The realisation slowly dawned upon him after the third such curving had brought him back the way he had come. This vast watery expanse provided a barrier that prevented any escape on his part, unless he were to sprout wings he was a captive at the whim of Brother John and his unseen comrades.
It was as he tracked his way forth to the place he had met the strange man that his Elven senses realised the totality of his imprisonment.
The forests were silent, save for the breeze carrying a strange tang from the huge waters. Not simply the silence of the sleepy day that all nocturnal creatures share in but a deathly quiet of an empty space. There was no birdsong and there were no insects pervading the air, nor were there any woodland creatures of note that he happened to chance across. This scant forest that separated the hillock from the rest of the land was completely devoid of life.
He couldn't survive on this small and desolate land and he now knew that he couldn't depart it, this left only one remaining option.
Brother John remained where he had previously stood, if the man had moved at all in the interim he gave no indication of it.
El-Vador's Travels Page 33