by V K Majzlik
“I suppose it’s cold, dry meat again. How I’m looking forward to more days of this!” Gomel moaned sarcastically. He was the last of the group to remain wrapped in his blanket, missing the normal comforts of home life. The gnome huddled in the middle of the camp staring at the damp ashes, his hood pulled up over his head. They were all miserable that morning, but only Gomel had the cheek to complain. Over the years spent underground he had forgotten how foul the weather could be in the outside world.
“Take it or leave it. It’s all we have!” Nymril dropped a small slither of cold brown meat into his lap. At one time it used to be succulent beef but now it was stiff and tasteless apart from the overwhelming tang of salt.
“I still don’t know why you couldn’t have brought that fox back. I am sure it was edible and far better meat than this!” He scowled at Jaidan who was refilling the group’s waterskins from a small trickling spring.
“Trust me, it was tainted meat. You would not have been able to stomach it,” reasoned Jaidan.
“I think we should speak no more of this animal. It will only serve to help its evil linger here.”
“Always the voice of doom, eh, Gaular?” Gomel mocked as he tugged on the dry meat with his teeth. “Besides, what’s the likelihood there are more?”
Jaidan stopped filling the waterskins to turn and answer the question, “Very likely.”
“We might not be their primary target any more, but they will still want to know where we are,” added Eilendan.
Nymril had perched herself on the end of a fallen tree trunk, and was studying her aeonthel. Its bright light radiated throughout the camp as the internal rings began their dance around one another. “They pursue it while we follow them,” she whispered despairingly, almost as if she had given up. Her hand was still bracing her ribs as she breathed, and even the slightest movement was a chore.
“How far away are we, do you think?” Eilendan now stood at her side.
“Not far…..” Nymril’s voice trailed off as she continued watching her aeonthel.
“Will you be able to fight?” He was concerned about her welfare but also that of the entire group.
“That’s a very good question. I don’t know whether any of us iis fit to fight just yet.” Gomel began rocking himself in his blanket, his arms hugging around his body wishing he could get used to the dampness that made his joints ache.
“Stop this! We are all tired, or injured, but we cannot give up.” Gaular now stood defiantly in the centre of the camp. “Our Elders sent us on this mission because they believed in our ability to complete it. I will not fail them whether I have you fighting at my side or not.” Making a point, he patted his hammer with his huge, hairy hand.
“Gaular is right. We must finish this, or die trying.” Jaidan began tidying the camp and scuffing the burnt embers of the fire into the undergrowth, destroying any evidence of their presence. Inspired by Gaular and Jaidan’s words, finding new strength and energy, the rest of the group began doing the same, except Gomel.
“Brave words from a Dwarf who has never seen combat!” he griped, emerging resentfully from his blanket.
“Then stay here and see if your conscience will let you fall back to sleep. Perhaps Gnomes have become soft with their centuries underground.” Gaular had slung his hammer over his shoulder, objecting to the gnome’s insults.
Eilendan stood between them. “The past few centuries have been hard on all our kin, even those too young to have fought in the last war. It’s up to you whether you wish to continue with this mission or not. Either way, we are leaving now, so it is your choice.”
The two elves mounted their horses and began to trot from the clearing, leaving Gaular and Gomel to their bckering.
“Gaular? Gomel? We cannot do this without you.” Jaidan said before spurring his horse to follow Nymril and Eilendan.
Gaular grunted and nodded to the gnome. Slinging his hammer onto his back, he mounted his horse, leaving Gomel alone in the clearing.
Still disgruntled, the gnome watched as his friends began to disappear one by one from sight, lost in the sea of tree trunks and brush.
“Of course they can’t do this without me!” muttered Gomel to himself. “Come on, you need to show them what Gnomes are made of, they appear to have forgotten!”
Gomel waited stubbornly for a few moments, assuming one of his companions would come back for him. When it became clear that they were actually leaving without him, he quickly rolled up his blanket and took several attempts to mount his horse. He kept glancing in the direction his comrades had taken, hoping they would reappear. With one foot in a stirrup, Gomel hung in mid air as the horse began trotting off. Clinging on tightly, bumping up and down awkwardly, he finally managed to heave his old body properly into the saddle.
Some distance away across the woods, the twins had also awoken, their camp also smothered in a white mist that dusted everything with silver dew. Tavor had been awake for several hours and had successfully rekindled the fire. It was the smell of hot tea and a fried breakfast that woke the boys from their deep slumber. Neither of them suspected anything about Tavor’s activities in the night, his demeanour seemed the same as ever, greeting them both with a warm, hearty smile as he handed them each a mug of tea.
“Get that down you. It should help warm you up!” Tavor ruffled Cradon’s red hair as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes, yawning widely. He then plated out the sausages and bacon, accompanied by the last of the fresh bread.
“Aren’t you having any?” queried Nechan as he began tucking in.
“Already have. You two were just too tired to wake up.”
“It definitely was the best idea to stay here after lunch yesterday. I actually feel as though I have had a decent nights sleep even though it was only on a bedroll.” Cradon stretched out his arms, flexing his shoulders and back in a satisfied manner.
“So, are you fit and ready for another day’s riding then?”
Cradon nodded his head, his mouth full of breakfast. “What happened to your face?”
Tavor touched his fat, bruised lip. It no longer hurt and he had forgotten about it. “Nothing!” He busied himself tending to the campfire. “I just tried to pull down a loose branch and it was bigger than I realised. It hit me the face!”
Cradon accepted the excuse, but Nechan could not help but study the face, thinking there should be more scratches if a falling branch had hit him.
“Are we heading anywhere in particular today?”
“Anywhere that’s not near civilisation! How does that sound?”
Nechan did not answer. His growing concern about Tavor was starting to dominate his thoughts. He just could not put his finger on why.
“Don’t worry your little head, Nechan. Here have some more tea, then we will start off again. And you have my word, I will keep you away from any danger.” Tavor gave Nechan a wide, toothy grin and handed him another mug of fresh tea. Nechan took it, mumbling a thank you, but did not return the smile. Tavor still seemed far too calm and nice. After all, he was escorting runaways through the woods, increasing the risk of being caught himself. He must be doing it for a more important reason, other than mere company.
A short while later, after dousing the fire and packing up their camp, the three travellers left the open mine and began their journey at a slightly quicker pace than the day before. Tavor knew that regardless of their speed, Govan and his men would not struggle to keep up. All he had to do was ensure they did not leave the woods. The Brathunder was confident he could weave them in circles around the same trees and the boys would never guess. The likelihood of a successful, quick attack was guaranteed in the close quarters of these woods. There would be nowhere to run, and even though there would be plenty of places to hide, he knew that they could not outsmart his tracking skills.
Tavor was also confident that the boys fighting skills were somewhat limited. They had openly admitted that they had barely seen the world outside their valley, so it was unlikely that
they had ever seen combat. The Empire was not taking any risks though and had sent an entire platoon to ensure success.
Tavor spent the rest of the morning trying to shake the guilt that was gnawing at him. If the twins were not killed in the initial ambush he knew they would be tortured and either die slowly and painfully or would be forced to commit themselves to a life a servitude and slavery to the Empire. Which was worse? He tried to tell himself again and again that he could not think like that. He was in this for himself. This was his chance to give himself a new, fulfilling life, rather than the old one of being on the run, living in hiding. It had all been arranged. If he helped retrieve the Aeonorgal, he would automatically be given the rank of captain, alongside Govan, and his new life would begin.
Nechan was pleased with the speed they setting, finally feeling they were putting enough distance between themselves and anyone who may be following. Once again, he tried to put aside the uneasy thoughts about Tavor’s true purpose in all of this, trying to blame it on his own paranoia.
Cradon and Tavor were riding just ahead as normal, happily bantering away. Nechan discretely felt the silver chain around his neck and patted his chest where the orb lay under his shirt. It brought him comfort to know it was still there. Secretly he wished he was also carrying the larger object, at least them he would know it was definitely safe. He did not trust that his brother would not show Tavor. They grew friendlier by the hour and Cradon now trusted him implicitly and Nechan could only watch as it happened. The only comfort was hoping that they would part company soon.
They did not stop for lunch that day or take a nap in the afternoon sunshine as they had done the previous day. Despite Cradon’s complaints, the trio maintained a steady pace until evening, much to Nechan’s relief.
Closely following Nymril’s directions, the five comrades continued to track the Aeonorgal. Its path however, appeared to change randomly, lacking a general direction, making it difficult to follow and predict. Again, the companions travelled relentlessly throughout the day, stopping only briefly to refill their waterskins.
It was nearly dark by the time they agreed to halt, finding shelter beneath a rocky outcrop, much to Gomel’s delight. He was impressed to find there were still rare outcrops of the white granite, and remarkably scrounged enough energy to spend time studying the quality of the rock-face, even clambering over the granite boulders to scrutinize the grains and crystals. Jaidan left the rest of the group to set up camp while he and Khar went to scout ahead again.
“I’m trusting you to help me see!” he whispered, before he released her up into the air. She fluttered up to perch on a branch above Jaidan’s head while he was crouched down, studying the ground closely.
“We cannot afford to let our guard down, Khar!”
She squawked, as if agreeing with him. Jaidan was concerned they were being followed, but he also did not want to walk into a trap. Waiting patiently for instructions, Khar lifted her left wing and began preening her feathers with her yellow beak.
“I don’t like this! Something is wrong.” Jaidan muttered to himself as he gently pressed the mud with his fingertips, testing how damp it was. These were definitely tracks, and only a few hours old. Khar stopped, and scanned the ground as well inquisitively, watching Jaidan’s hands.
“This was just one man by himself. He knows what he is doing. He has tried to hide his tracks.” That concerned Jaidan most. A person would only cover their tracks if they knew there was chance they would be followed. Someone knew they were there, perhaps even watching him right now. But who and why?
Jaidan knew he should soon return to camp and report his findings. The group now needed to be even more on guard, prepared for anything. They were all tired and their nerves were starting to drain their strength and mental agility, but they had to stay alert.
Continuing to scout ahead, he followed the tracks. The task eventually proved too difficult in the growing darkness, even for his eyes. He lost and picked up the track repeatedly, but finally lost it completely. Even though the clansman had now travelled some distance away from the camp he had not yet lost his bearings.
Khar suddenly glided down onto his shoulder, making tutting squawks, ruffling her feathers anxiously.
“What is it? Have you seen something?” He spoke soothingly, trying to calm her down. He felt his heart quicken and the adrenaline start to pump through his veins.
Continuing in the same direction, he crept forwards with Khar still perched on his shoulder. Gradually, a faint, but unmistakable orange glow of firelight could be seen through the tree trunks. Jaidan sent Khar up into the canopy so he could slide forward on his stomach for a closer look, until he could clearly see the red and yellow flickering of firelight dancing. The Brathunder watched in silence, and after he had more than satisfied his curiosity, he ran back through the woods, as sure-footed and quiet as a fallow deer. He had to tell his companions what he saw. This could not wait.
Chapter 19 – Stalking The Prey
After a full day of riding, Tavor and Nechan agreed that they could stop for the night, much to Cradon’s relief. This time there was no sheltered outcrop or mine, and they were forced to make camp in a small clearing surrounded by young, silvery birches, now almost stripped of their leaves. Nechan quickly made a small campfire, while Cradon searched the surrounding area for more dry firewood to use throughout the night.
Tavor slipped away from camp under the premise of hunting for their evening meal. Again, even Nechan thought nothing of his behaviour. They both began to look forward to the tasty stew or broth Tavor would no doubt make on his return.
Govan and his men were not far away. Tavor had stumbled into their hiding place. They were camouflaged, up in the trees, and as with their previous meetings easily caught Tavor off-guard. These men were by far the best soldiers in the Empire, evading even the best trackers like Tavor.
“I hope you bring me good news, Tavor!” Govan swung down from his branch, landing with no more than a slight rustle of the dry leaf litter. They were still waiting for final confirmation that the boys carried the Spirit Star.
“There is only one place I haven’t been able to check: their saddles. They have pockets, that must be where they are hiding it, if they have it at all,” Tavor reported unapologetically.
“Well, find out! Remember, neither of us, but especially you, can afford to make a mistake. The very fate of the Empire is resting on the outcome of this.”
“I don’t see why you just can’t ambush them now! They are two defenceless boys. I am sure they will not put up much of a fight.”
“Firstly, I have strict orders to wait for the karzon. Secondly, what if they have buried it somewhere? They have already done that once.” Govan took a step closer to Tavor, close enough for him to smell the musty stench of sweat. “That’s why you need to confirm whether they have it with them, or not,” he hissed through clenched teeth, his dark eyes narrowing to slits.
“And if they don’t?”
“Well, then, you will have to start back-tracking. If they have hidden it somewhere, the urge to check will eventually become too great. I am sure they will lead us to it.”
“Back-tracking! Look, I don’t know how much longer I can keep up this pretence!” Tavor’s snapped, his voice raised with frustration.
“Sounds like he’s backing out already. Once a traitor, always a traitor!” Javil snarled, removing his dagger from his belt.
“Say that to me when you’re not standing behind your commander for protection!”
“Enough! Both of you! We cannot afford the petty trouble between you two!” Govan watched as Javil turned his back on Tavor and joined the rest of the men, scowling discontentedly. “Besides, he’s wrong, isn’t he, Tavor? You’re not having second thoughts, are you?” He pulled Tavor so close he could feel his nervous, panting breath against his face.
“Of course not.” Tavor pushed him off, putting some distance between them again. “These boys are just smarter than we gave
them credit for. I don’t want to push my luck and have them run off!”
“That won’t happen. Besides, the karzon will be here any day. They will sense immediately whether the boys have it on them.”
Tavor nodded, breathing a sigh of relief.
“But we may have to deal with another problem before that.”
“What?”
“My scout found something else,” whispered Govan, drawing closer to Tavor once more. “It appears we are not the only ones looking for the Spirit Star. There is another group.”
Tavor’s expression quickly changed which even in the shadowy darkness, could clearly be read.
“A mixture of elves, gnomes and a man. Most likely the ones who stole it in the first place and then carelessly lost it again!” mocked Govan.
Tavor rubbed his forehead, feeling beads of sweat starting to form. This was starting to become complicated. “Elves? I can’t quite believe…..”
“I wouldn’t have believed it myself either if my man hadn’t seen it with his own eyes. I trust him.” He smirked to himself. “I guess our leaders’ suspicion was justified!”
The day before, Falte, Govan’s best scout, had discovered the tracks of the comrades on horseback and had closely followed them the rest of the day, quickly catching them up. Hiding in the shadows, he had discovered much about them, overhearing their conversations and watching their behaviour. It was obvious they too were after the Aeonorgal.
Despite his initial disbelief, he could clearly see there were two elves, and possibly a dwarf and a gnome. He could also tell that two of the companions were injured.
Falte had slipped away, without making a sound, taking great care to leave no tracks. The comrades had been oblivious to his presence. Upon his return to his platoon, Falte reported all he had seen to Govan.