Gwyrtha had to stop. There was no escape. They were cut off and it seemed as if their doom was assured. Hundreds of moonrats gathered around them. The cacophony generated by their chitters was unbearable. Justan slid off of Gwyrtha’s back and drew his swords. He shouted out in defiance at the swarm of beasts.
Moonrats came hurtling down out of the branches like possessed bees. It wasn’t until he saw that the other moonrats immediately began to feed on them that Justan realized the falling creatures were dead. The ground was quickly heaped with a writhing mob of evil creatures in a feeding frenzy. Some attacked the companions but Justan and Gwyrtha made short work of them with claw and sword.
Suddenly, the forest was a buzz with a flurry of arrows. Dozens more moonrats fell to the ground and the milling mass on the ground consumed them. With that signal, Gwyrtha let out a roar of joy and Justan knew that help had arrived.
The fall leaves on the ground suddenly seemed to come alive and glide into the midst of the swirling battle. Justan numbly felt the leaves grabbing his arm and leading him through the chaos. It all seemed like a surreal dream. He wondered if he wasn’t awake, but still dreaming on Gwyrtha’s back, fleeing through the forest.
He dimly realized that his surroundings were changing as he traveled guided by these unseen hands, and the air around him brightened. He blinked the weariness from his eyes and saw that the late afternoon sunlight was bursting through the trees overhead. He looked down to see that the beings holding him up and guiding him were not made of leaves after all.
They were elves.
Chapter Twenty Three
The elvish people were a beautiful race. From the way they carried themselves to the places they chose for their homes, everything about them was shrouded in splendor. They possessed a lithe, slender body type that looked frail on the surface, but hid wiry strength.
Elves lived long lives. It was said that there were a few elves still around who had lived for over a thousand years, though that is debatable since few would speak of their age. Their race was a secretive one.
They had learned that open relations with other races eventually led to war, and war meant death. For the elves, this was an unacceptable thing. Though they lived long lives, their numbers were small compared to the other races. It was very hard for an elven female to get pregnant, and when she did, the gestation period of the child lasted almost three times as long as that of a human child. To an elf, every life was of immeasurable value. Therefore there were not many things that an elf would fight to the death to defend. About the only thing they saw worth fighting for was their homes.
The homeland of an elven clan was sacred to them because it was imbued with the very life force of the elves that lived there. Every flake of skin, every drop of sweat, every hair of an elf, even their waste contained a small portion of their immeasurable life force. The longer they lived in an area, the more of it was absorbed into the environment. The trees, the grass, and even the animals partook of this substance and kept a small amount of this energy with them. An elven homeland would stay lush and green the year through for even the harshest temperatures could not kill these plants. Developing such a wondrous place was not easy. This is a process that takes decades, even centuries to complete.
With the wonderful blessings of such a home also came a great curse. The fruits from the trees of elves were highly prized for their curative properties and so were all of the things that their lands produced. Who wouldn't want a home made with wood that would never warp or crack or weather? Who wouldn't want seeds for a garden of immortal flowers that would bloom all year round?
For those things many atrocities had occurred. Elven lands had been raided, elven possessions stolen. Elves had been kept as slaves, forced to tend the gardens of the rich and powerful. And some forests have been burned to the ground just out of the fear of such unnatural beauty. At one time there was even a plague of humans who became addicted to feeding on the immortal blood of the elves to extend their lives beyond their normal limits.
Because of events like these, the elves grew very mistrustful of others. Most clans stayed hidden from the view of other races, making their homes in obscure places. Some were so intent on isolation that they would kill any non-elves that ventured into their home, even if the person entered by mistake.
There were also clans that were more trusting of the other races and had developed trade with them. There were even elves that chose to forsake the ways of their people and lived in the exciting world of the humanoid races.
The Blotland elves had always been one of the most mistrustful elven clans. They guarded their borders fiercely and their open hostility towards the other races had borne heavily on some of the younger elves until they protested the strict policies of their elders. This rebel group called themselves the Silvertree sect. They named themselves after a tree in the Blotted Forest with a silver hue that took the extra nutrients gathered from its roots and spread them out among the other nearby trees resulting in a joined root network that benefited the other trees equally.
Eventually there was a break within the clan and the Silvertree sect split off to find a new home. With only fifty elven warriors, they had traveled to Dremaldria to meet with the wizards of the Mage School. The wise wizards saw an opportunity to use this situation to help them with another threat. They guided the sect to the Tinny Forest.
A great rot had settled within the bowels of this place. This was the origin of the evil moonrats. The elves and wizards joined forces and together they destroyed much of the evil and were able to establish a warded road for travelers.
After the heat of battle waned and the moonrats had been pushed back to the darkest places of the forest, the Silvertree elves made a pact with the Mage School for their mutual benefit. The elves were given possession of the forest between its dark heart and the river of Fandine that bordered it. In return the elves promised to keep the evil from spreading again.
The wizards also promised that if the dark heart of the forest was ever destroyed, the elves could claim it all for their own. In gratitude, the elves granted exclusive trade status to the school. This was a huge boon for the wizards because there were many spell implements that require things that only an elf could provide.
Not long ago, the elves’ battle with the darkness of the forest and the moonrats had been fought to a standstill. Two of their number were killed in the last great battle. The elves retreated to mourn. The mourning rituals were still going on. A period of rest from battle was to last all year, but something had roused the elves to action. It was not coincidence that the elves had been out in force to save Justan and his companions.
Justan awoke to a bright sunny morning with the welcoming sounds of birds and cicadas in the air. He couldn’t remember what happened to him at first. Then it all came rushing back, the betrayal, the battles, the rescue. But where was he now?
He looked around to find that he was still in the forest, but in a cheerful place. There was a green tree or two settled among the leafless ones, and instead of the foul moldy smell of the dark forest, he was delighted with a pleasant fall breeze. Justan sat up to find that he was naked beneath a clean soft cotton blanket. At first he was alarmed, but he turned to see that his clothes and pouches were folded in a neat pile nearby, clean and stitched. Somehow, his benefactors had even managed to get out the bloodstains. He lifted up the pile to find with relief that his weapons were there too.
Justan reached up to his ear to find it bandaged. His other major wounds including his calf were also dressed, while most of the cuts and scrapes and bruises had some sort of salve on them and were healing nicely. He wondered how long he had been asleep.
After looking around to make sure that no one was watching, he stood up and hurriedly donned his garments. He then strapped on his swords and swung his bow over his shoulder.
If he was okay, then where were his friends? He closed his eyes and looked inside himself to find that his connection with Gwyrtha was still very
much intact. She was somewhere cool, content, and sleeping, though her dreams were a whirl of foreign images that he couldn’t decipher.
With his mind put at ease about Gwyrtha, he just needed to find Lenny. He was about to call out to the dwarf when he felt a tap on his shoulder.
Justan jumped and swung around with a fist cocked but stopped when he saw that it was a thin female elf staring at him with curiosity. She was dressed all in fall colors and her clothes were a patchwork of sewn cotton and silk. This was why he had only seen swirling leaves during his rescue. The elves were dressed in camouflage.
He smiled at the elf and bowed. She just looked at him wide-eyed in return. Her hair was a golden yellow color and it was cut short, exposing her pointed ears. Her face was narrow and pretty with large expressive eyes, a button nose and a small petite mouth.
“Hello, my name is Justan, son of Faldon the fierce,” he greeted and stuck out his hand. When she didn’t shake it, he continued, “Okay. Well I must thank you for coming to my rescue. My friends and I were doomed until you showed up.” She smiled slightly. “Do you know where I might find my friends?”
She still didn’t respond. Instead, she reached inside of her cloak and produced an apple. The elf held it out to him. Justan realized that he was famished. He hadn’t eaten in almost two days. He took the apple with gratitude and consumed it greedily.
Justan wasn’t normally fond of apples. He enjoyed the sweet meat inside but disliked the flavorless peel. This apple was different. It had such a pungent, smooth texture that he didn’t even notice the peel as he devoured it. The juice seemed alive. It quenched his thirst as well as his hunger and he felt life and energy enter his body. He felt as though he could continue in his journey right away.
He looked to the elf in gratitude.
“Thank you, that was wonderful.” She smiled and nodded. “Can you please let me know where I can find my friends?” he pressed.
In response, the elf bent over and picked up a small rock. With a fluid motion, she hurled it into a nearby pile of fall leaves.
The rock sank in with a thud and the pile of leaves exploded in the fury of the naked dwarf that had been buried underneath them. Lenny came up cursing.
“What the hell? Dag-blast it, who hit me?” He looked quite ridiculous with his hair full of leaves and his normally immaculate mustache sticking out in all directions. “Where in the galldurn world am I?” He saw Justan standing by a very amused elf. “An elf? What in the pisseatin’ . . .? Of all the damndest things!”
Justan ran over to his friend and clapped him on the shoulder, happy to see him alive. The dwarf’s body was covered in poultices and bandages. His wounds had been pretty severe. The lithe female elf held out an apple for the dwarf. He accepted hungrily.
Lenny devoured it quickly and licked his lips, seeming unsatisfied. He sighed, and oblivious to his nakedness, bent over and rummaged through his belongings which had been tossed in a pile. They weren’t folded as neatly as Justan’s had been.
Justan looked away in embarrassment. The elf just giggled. Lenny came up with a familiar waterskin and gulped down several swallows. He coughed and belched.
“Now that makes a dwarf feel better!” he exclaimed. Still naked, Lenny turned to the lithe female elf whose face was starting to look a little rosy. “Please accept this gift of firewater from a thankful dwarf.” He handed the flask to her. “The name’s Lenui.”
She smiled in gratitude and clasped the waterskin to her chest. “Thank you, Lenui.” Her voice had an airy, almost musical sound. “We haven’t had any of this in ages.” Justan didn’t know why the elf had suddenly decided to talk. Perhaps when he met her he had used improper etiquette.
“May I ask yer name milady?” Lenny asked. Justan was surprised at his uncharacteristic behavior.
“I am Antyni Blynt, and thank you for asking so kindly, Sir Lenui.”
Justan chuckled and shook his head. Lenny looked at him crossly.
“What’s wrong with you, boy?”
“I’m the only one that seems to get your name right,” Justan replied.
Lenny’s face went red but before he could say anything, the elf interrupted.
“Please, get yourselves ready and I will take you to the others.” Antyni walked over to a nearby tree and leaned against it.
Lenny glared at Justan and seemed about to say something, but threw up his hands in disgust and gave up. The dwarf bent back over his pile of belongings. Justan didn’t know what he was upset about. He was just glad that Lenny was finally getting dressed.
As Lenny pulled on his trousers, careful not to dislodge any bandages, Justan had some questions. “Lenny?” The dwarf grunted in response. “How did you know to find me in the forest?”
“Valtrek said that that was the way you was headed,” Lenny replied absently, rummaging through his things. “The wizard wouldn’t let Riveren or Zambon go ‘cause they was under contract or some such thing, and since no one else had the rocks to go after you, I said I’d do it.” He looked over his shoulder at Justan. “What the hell was you thinkin’ anyway, runnin’ off like that?”
Justan explained what Valtrek had done.
“That dirty crabsnatcher! Well, whaddya you expect from an old crafty wizard like him anyways?”
Justan agreed with the sentiment. “But how did you find me? I was hopelessly lost.”
Lenny snorted. “You only left a trail a mile wide. If yer ever wantin’ to be a great warrior, you need to get back to that academy and take one of them forestry courses. A drunken ogre could’ve found yer trail. The plan was fer me to catch up to you and get you down to the road. When I found you, you wasn’t that far away from it, you know, only a couple hunnerd feet.”
Justan fumed. He had been so close! If only he had pushed on. Well, then he wouldn’t have met Gwyrtha, would he?
The dwarf finally found what he was looking for: a small mirror. He gasped at his reflection and pulled a small comb and a ball of soft wax out of a pouch. The dwarf began shaping his thick handlebar mustache.
“Anyways, I just followed yer trail ‘till I heard all that yappin’ and saw lots of dead moonrats. Then I knew you was in trouble. Yer lucky you wasn’t killed in the first ten minutes in that forest.” He stopped for a moment to look at Justan curiously. “Say, how did we get out of there anyway? We wasn’t even in the bad part yet.”
“Gwyrtha carried us almost all the way out,” Justan explained. “Then the elves came and saved us. After that I don’t know any more than you.”
“That rogue horse carried me out?” Lenny asked with a surprised expression. “Well don’t that beat all. I’d a never thunk she’d let the likes of me on her back.”
Justan chuckled. “Believe me, it wasn’t easy to get her to do it. Why does she mistrust you so?”
Lenny sighed and shook his head. He had all the leaves combed out of his hair by now and was buttoning his shirt. “Son, it’s a long story and one I’d rather not get into. There’s lots of things in my past I ain’t proud of, and that’s one of ‘em. Just know that I’m not the one responsible for what’s botherin’ her.” He tucked his shirttails into his pants and started strapping on his gear. “Where’d you find her anyway?”
Antyni’s ears perked up at that question and she came closer to listen.
“I don’t know. I fell out of a tree almost covered in moonrats and she just appeared out of nowhere to save me. I got away, but I couldn’t just leave her there surrounded, so I helped.” Justan’s brow furrowed as he tried to figure out just what had occurred. The more he thought about it, the more excited he became.
“Lenny, the strangest thing happened then. It was like our minds reached out to each other and linked. I know it sounds crazy, but I could hear her thoughts and she could hear mine. Only she doesn’t think like you and me. She thinks in pictures and smells and sounds and . . .” Justan struggled to find the words, but threw his hands up in frustration. “It’s complicated.” Lenny looked like he didn’
t understand a thing Justan had just said, but he continued anyway.
“It’s not just that. Since we’ve had this connection, I’ve changed. Lenny, I can fight. I mean I’ve always known how to fight, but I’ve never been able to get my body to do it. But back in the forest I could. It was like I gained some of her strengths. I had control. I had energy. Do you have any idea what I’m saying?”
Lenny slowly shook his head. “I can’t say as I do, but I’ve seen stranger things happen.” The elf followed every word.
Justan looked to the south. “I can feel it now, Lenny. That, that . . . bond. Yes, that’s it, a bond. Gwyrtha’s right over there.” He pointed through some trees and Lenny and the elf looked, though they couldn’t see anything. “She just woke up and some elves are patting her down and saying hello. She doesn’t understand everything they are saying, but it makes her feel good. Oh! She knows I’m watching. Here she comes.”
Eye of the Moonrat (The Bowl of Souls: Book One) Page 25