Fireclaws - Search for the Golden

by T. Michael Ford

  Currently, Kerrik was telling stories of his travels with the army and the places he had seen. He seemed to be careful never to actually talk about the fighting, just the day-to-day life of a soldier, which actually sounded pretty dull.

  “So, Kerrik, were there any beautiful wizard girls in the army? Any as pretty as me?” Daffi asked coquettishly, with a flick of her glossy black tail.

  “Well, that’s hard to say, Daphne. Except for our four-person squad, we didn’t get to associate often with other wizards. Most of the women took pains to dress and look as much like an ordinary dirt-digging trooper as possible anyway. All of us did.

  “Why? Don’t wizards run around in fancy robes and wave magic wands?”

  “Umm…no…not the ones who wanted to live, anyway,” he said abruptly.

  “I don’t understand.”

  Kerrik grimaced, clearly uncomfortable with the thought. “Wizards are high-value targets in any battle, and extremely vulnerable targets at that. Most people only remember the Lifebane’s armies of zombies, skeletons, and ghouls. But he had another group, at least early on in the war, which was feared much more, especially if you were a wizard; the dark elves.”

  Crap! I didn’t like where this conversation was going.

  Kerrik continued, “We learned early on to keep our spell casting to an absolute minimum, dress like common soldiers, and not become too attached to our fellow wizards. The bastards would watch us from the tree lines and wait. You could be three hundred yards from the nearest clump of shrubs and still get an arrow between your ribs if they even got a clue you were a wizard; no one was safe. Some of our officers understood and helped keep us hidden, but others were jackasses and ordered us up to the front lines to openly cast spells on command. Those wizards were the first to die in every battle. I lost a lot of friends that way; finally, I just didn’t make friends anymore…” He paused, lost in thought. A few minutes later, he continued, “About the only good thing about the dark elves was that they had terrible leadership. They were deadly as snipers, but every so often they would stupidly bunch up and attempt a full frontal attack along with the zombies and skeletons. I almost felt sorry for them, they were uncanny bowmen, but as lightly armored as they were, they didn’t have any business in the front ranks mixing it up with heavy footmen. When they did attack that way, we went out of our way to cut them down like wheat. Let’s just say there were no wounded left behind either, but to be honest, no one shed any tears for the dark elves, not after what they did to us.”

  By this time, I was head down and nearly stumbling with grief at the waste and stupidity in Kerrik’s story.

  Andea shifted uneasily on Daffi’s back, perhaps more sensitive to the emotions that were shifting around our party like leaves in the fall winds. “I heard a storyteller in one of the port towns I visited with Jedaro’s caravan say that the dark elves changed sides in the end and fought against the Lifebane.”

  Kerrik growled, “I suppose that’s possible, I don’t think I saw a single one the last six months of the war. They probably sensed which way the tides were turning and jumped ship on the Lich to be on the winning side. Still, it wouldn’t piss me off if I never saw another dark elf as long as I live!” After that, he lapsed back into silence and failed to respond to any other questions by the girls.

  I was grateful I was in horse form and had no tears to show how I was feeling; life could be a bitter, unfair draught at times. It looked like my new found friendship with Kerrik and probably even Andi was doomed as soon as they found out what I really was. Part of me just wanted to run away, back to Sky Raven, where acceptance wasn’t such a scarce commodity. I sulked for an hour or so until my hooves started on the down slope to the shallow stream that I had seen on the map. Just on the other side was a deep, forested area which the map showed extended twenty miles or more, abutting the foothills which guarded the mountain passes ahead of us.

  Taking the lead, I led Daffi upstream a few hundred yards through the shallow stream in order to confuse our trackers. Finally, we exited on a rock shelf that flattened out and extended into the shady, mixed birch and hardwood forest before us. The low underbrush of grasses and ferns was surprisingly cool and level under our feet. This forest reminded me of the forests I grew up in, perhaps too much so. We had only traversed a couple hundred yards in, following a game trail, when I pulled up short and stared transfixed at one of the trees before me.

  There, clearly carved into the side of a beech that leaned slightly into the trail was a bird figure, probably a raven. I snorted and backed up three steps, which was our agreed-upon signal for Kerrik to dismount. He did so, and I forced the change into my two-legged form. I used to go hide in the bush to do so, but we had been traveling together long enough that I no longer bothered. If Kerrik saw a flash of skin here and there, it no longer mattered. I was confident that anything he did see would be hidden by Rosa’s scarf enchantment which would still show me to be an ordinary human girl.

  “Why are we stopping?” Kerrik whispered, looking around nervously, taking his cue from my body language.

  I pointed at the tree, keeping my voice low as well. “That is called a yprell marker, these are elf woods and we are intruders. We need to turn around…”

  “Not a good idea, my Mother.” I heard Naurakka’s voice in my head, signifying she was close. “The hounds and their handlers have just now reached the river where you went in. It will not take them long to find your exit spot.”

  “So close? But I heard nothing.”

  “They are getting smarter and have started muzzling the filthy little beasts. They are close by…”

  I looked at my companions. “It appears we cannot turn back, the trackers are close on our trail. We will just have to press on and hope we do not attract any attention.” The two humans and the pooka nodded grimly. “I think we should continue on foot, the trail is getting too close for horse traffic anyway.”

  “I can still carry Andi in my goat form, Mistress; it’s a lot smaller.”

  I nodded. “Make it so, Daphne. Now we need to hurry on, there’s almost no chance that the elves won’t already know of our presence. We can only hope they will not consider us a threat and that they will regard Verledn’s men and hounds as one.”

  Quickly, I led the way, cutting silently through the trees like I had been taught as a young child. Kerrik, of course, being human, was as noisy as a bull, with Daffi much less so. The dark overhang of branches gave everything at ground level a twilight appearance, and it was nearly impossible to navigate using the sun. But the mosses and some of the other native plants told me the direction we headed as surely as a native guide. It was getting to be late in the afternoon, and judging our progress left me with the inevitable conclusion that there was no way we would make it all the way through these woods before dark. In fact, I doubted if we were even more than half way at this point.

  I sighed, thinking ahead. That meant a cold camp at best and, hopefully, it wouldn’t rain tonight. Maybe I could find a laurel tree and the pooka and Andi could spend the night inside and warm. I had let my musing distract me slightly and felt an insistent tapping on my shoulder from Kerrik behind me. Looking up, I froze.

  There was a male green elf in light armor holding a long sword blocking our path. White-haired, with eyes like watered-down ice, his face was impassive, neither friendly nor unfriendly. Swiveling my gaze a little, I now noticed at least a dozen bowmen set back slightly in the trees, targeting our party. I slowly raised my hands revealing that I held no weapons and set my gaze firmly on the ground. I spoke in common. “We offer our apologies for intruding on your peace. As you can see, we are unarmed and offer no threat to you or your forest. We merely fled here to escape the evil pursuing us, and we will gladly leave your lands by the quickest route possible if shown the way.”

  The warrior in front of us sheathed his weapon and strode toward us in seasoned confidence. Passing on my left side, he silently gave each of us the once over. Finally, he had c
ircled all the way around our small party and stopped again in front of me.

  “And you are the leader of this…troupe?” he questioned in a rusty common dialog.

  I nodded. “I am escorting this wizard, Kerrik Beratin, and his sister, Andea Beratin, on this journey. My name is Ryliss Tancreek.” He glanced over at the wind wizard, taking his measure, and then spent a short time observing Andea as she fidgeted on the back of her black goat steed. Finally, he drew himself up facing Kerrik.

  “Wizard Beratin, it is not often we are able to host wizards to our humble forest. I would appreciate it if you and your party would accompany me to our village. I’m sure our chieftain and elders would love to meet you and your companions.”

  Kerrik looked at me and then back at the elf warrior. “We are traveling under somewhat of a time constraint and the brigands trailing us have already forced us far out of our desired travel path. We would normally be happy to accommodate your request, but…”

  “Good, it’s settled then,” the leader interrupted. “You will keep your hands where they can be seen at all times and follow me. Do not deviate from the path, there are dangerous wild beasts that roam these woods and I cannot guarantee your safety if you do not follow my instructions implicitly.” He raised his voice and spoke to his archers changing to a regional dialect of elvish that I was still able to pick up fairly well. “We take them back to the village. If they so much as twitch, slay them, even the goat.” Turning, he marched forward along the path we were originally following, and we had no choice but to comply.

  My mind was working furiously, trying to figure out some form of plan as we walked. Kerrik was apparently trying the same as he attempted to whisper to me several times, only to be hushed by a prod in the back or a glare back over the shoulder of the elf leading the way. My best guess was that we would be questioned thoroughly by their chief and probably let go. Green elves, in general, had no reason to harass human wizards and generally afforded them at least nominal courtesy. My own status was in serious question, however. There has never been any love lost between dark elves and green and I could only hope that Rosa’s scarf enchantment would hold up under their scrutiny.

  An hour’s trek, crossing several game trails and other paths through increasingly dense woods, brought us to a large clearing. The ground was worn down to flat stones by the feet of countless generations of green elves. At the far end of the field, a massive wooden structure squatted, shaped not unlike a spruce tree. Wide at the bottom and tapering all the way up to a sharp point at the very top, probably sixty feet in the air, the sides seemed to be made of hand-carved vertical planks layered all the way up. The occasional window was arranged between what I assumed were floors within. At the very bottom, in the middle, were two very large ornately-designed wooden and iron-bound doors. In front of the doors, the ground dipped into a huge smooth bowl-shaped depression, rising up to a tall grassy knoll on the other side of the clearing. It appeared the purpose of the mound was to host large, ritualized bonfires judging from the scorched area at its peak.

  Not far from the bonfire area, a large stone trail led off into the distance toward what my keen ears identified as a roaring river gorge far below. In the other direction, well away from the river, were the rest of the village’s homes and shops. The center bowl area made a natural amphitheatre large enough to host the entire community. Word must have preceded our arrival as there was already a small crowd of elves sitting on the edges of the bowl. At one end of the bottom of the structure were two portable polished wooden thrones. Other than those, the floor of the depression was featureless.

  Our escort led us down to the floor level, stopping only once to remove Andi from the back of the black goat. A young girl child came up and wrapped a piece of cordage around Daphne’s neck and led her away to some low buildings in the private sector. Kerrik, Andi, and I were soon standing alone in front of the thrones waiting; the archers had retreated to the top level of the amphitheater but still had their bows trained on all of us.

  Without looking at either of them, I whispered. “Kerrik, no matter what happens, maintain your status and bearing as a wizard. Bluster, lie, curse, show them some magic tricks if you have to, but never back down from what you are. Tell them the truth; you and Andi are on your way to Xarparion on a matter of great importance. That’s all they need to know.”

  “What about you, Ryliss? You can escape any time you wish. Are you going to leave us now?”

  “I will not leave you voluntarily, but make no mistake, Kerrik, we are all in great danger here. I have been listening to the guards and they have orders to kill. Your first priority has to be protecting Andi at all costs. Reveal to no one that she is a seer; additionally, you must get her to Xarparion and Sky Raven. If you arrive there without me, ask for an audience with the King and Queen. Tell them your story and they will grant you both the help you need.”

  Interrupting, Andea asked urgently, “Ryliss, can you swim?”

  Huh? “No, not very well, at least not without turning to animal form…why?”

  Any further discussion was cut off by a blast of horns and the appearance of three individuals coming out of the grand doors of the cathedral. The first two, one male and one female, were slender and dressed in long robes of the lightest silk. The third was a stoop-shouldered ancient female elf dressed in a more practical shift and leggings of dyed cotton. Behind them trooped out half a dozen armored footmen with swords and shields. The first three walked calmly down to the thrones, as did two of the footmen, taking up positions on either side as the three sat. The remainder of the troops circled around closely in back of us and came to a halt. The ornately-robed male, whom I took to be the chieftain, spoke first.

  “So you are the wizard who allegedly has appeared miraculously in our midst? I am Aegone, chief of the Canna band of our people, and this is my wife Lhathma.” He had a longish face and thin delicate fingers, no facial hair, and the same whitish hair that they all had.

  Kerrik bowed formally. “My name is Kerrik Beratin; this is my sister, Andea, and our guide, Ryliss. We are on our way to Xarparion for an important consultation.”

  The stoop-shouldered female nodded and whispered something in the chief’s ear. It appeared that she was some sort of shaman or wizard herself.

  “Interesting story, Wizard; perhaps you could clarify something for us. Our first reports, when you entered our woods, had two riders on horseback. But when my guardians ran across you, there were three humans and a goat in the party.”

  Kerrik’s face became very pale, and I could see him searching for an explanation. Finally, he just threw up his hands and blurted out, “Two members of our party have the ability to change shapes; they were the horses you saw.

  “Shape shifters!” the woman identified as the chief’s wife exclaimed, standing up angrily. She glanced over at one of the guards, scowling. “Get that goat back here, now!” She sat back down, her pale eyes trying to burn holes in all of us. Other than slightly softer features, she could have been almost a twin to her husband.

  “So I assume that your guide, this Ryliss, who appears human to our eyes but has the name of an elf, is the other shapeshifter?” the chief questioned sharply, and Kerrik nodded dejectedly. The elf woman on the throne now turned her attention to me.

  “You, girl, what exactly are you?”

  “A humble servant of the Earth Mother, My Lady,” I answered shakily and watched as she motioned for the old woman to examine me. Before the old crone could approach me, the guard who had been sent after Daphne came running back in a panic. He bowed and hastily explained to the chieftain in elvish that the goat had vanished from the pen in which it had been locked and was nowhere to be found.

  By the end of this conversation, the old woman was circling around the three of us. She immediately dismissed Andea, sniffed somewhat disparagingly at Kerrik, but found me very, very interesting. She stood off a few yards and pointed back at me, addressing her superior.

  “This o
ne reeks of magic, Sire, powerful magic!”

  The chief stood up, still cross at the news of the goat escaping, and shouted at the assembled troops. “Bind her! If she resists, kill the blind girl!” Most of the footmen brandished their weapons and surrounded us. I felt my arms grabbed roughly, and a few seconds later, the burn of cold iron snapped over my wrists and ankles. I looked over and saw Kerrik struggling with several other warriors to no avail, and finally he just stopped and looked defiantly at the elves on the throne.

  “You have no right to do this; we have caused you no harm!”

  “Do not presume to lecture us on dealings within our own domain, Wizard; it is you who have trespassed under false pretenses. Now I will know everything from you!”

  The crone had again approached me as I was being held firmly by two strong males. First, she relieved me of the shield amulet Rosa had made for me to take the place of armor in my travels. Next, she discovered the bone dagger in my boot, which she examined and then tossed aside in annoyance. My other boot contained a flap compartment that held my magic map, which she smilingly confiscated. A search of my belt found the bag of dimensions. And finally, with a look of triumph, she reached up and untied the enchanted scarf from around my neck. Instantly, my persona as a human dissolved and I was revealed to a gasping audience as my real dark elf self.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Kerrik just stand and gape in horror. After the crone had finished stealing my things, she stood back and with a final leer at me, addressed the chief.

  “My lord, the magic was all in these oddly enchanted items, she has no personal magic at all. She is no Druid; she’s nothing but a filthy dark elf spy.”