14.
THE ELVENE
With the light fading quickly, Red Whiskers slowed down and glanced behind him. The creature that seemed to have taken a particular liking to him and had crawled out of the shallow marsh in his direction, was nowhere in sight. With his whiskers pushed tight against his face, he inhaled deeply through his upturned nose, catching the slight breeze still blowing from the north. Movement in the darkening sky showed the first of the nightbirds moving, which meant there was either a cave nearby or a witches’ coven. The strong odour of rabbit caught his attention and with his nose to the ground following the scent, he dropped to a low crouch and trotted to some thick clumps of grass nearby. Here he discovered the hidden entrance to a rabbit warren and decided that this would make a suitable den for the night. Red Whiskers preferred to move about at night, concealing himself in the shadow and relying on his strongest ability, stealth. Now he was in unexplored territory and not knowing what roamed about here at night, he erred on the side of caution. The fox squeezed into the dark burrow that was almost too small for him and crawled quietly downwards for a bit until it opened up into a small round sandy cave. His eyes now accustomed to the pitch-black could see quite well as he surveyed the cave’s contents. A frightened grey rabbit, not believing a fox had dared intrude into her burrow jumped and scrambled in the opposite direction and out of another hole squeaking angrily. A shower of sand and earth sprayed over Red Whiskers during the rabbit’s hasty departure. ‘It’s only just for one night, really. Stay and join me for dinner!’ He barked out after the rabbit with a smile. The rabbit failed to see the joke and through another burrow, burst out of the ground through a whoosh of tangled grass. With eyes as big as water lilies, it raced across an open stretch of damp reeds and low grass toward a distant clump of bushes.
Red Whiskers curled up in the burrow, exhausted from the long day's travel. A large fat yellow worm wriggled past him, as he flicked a curious ear in the wriggling visitor’s direction, but he was not that hungry yet. He only managed to snatch some brief moments of sleep. The walls of this burrow seemed a bit damp, but the floor was dry enough mixed with sand, old grass and brittle leaves. He was unaccustomed to the noises in this area of the moors with that seemingly endless marsh nearby. Muffled sounds of strange wails, distant splashing, animals running overhead and the sound of large swooping wings were commonplace throughout the night. Somewhere in the distance, a boar barked savagely followed by a lengthy squeal. A flock of nightbirds flew over clicking loudly in the sky, scanning the moor below them. Red Whiskers shivered, very much relieved that he had found this burrow.
An hour or two before sunrise, Red Whiskers awoke to feel the ground tremble above and around him. For an instant, he imagined the rabbits had come back to the burrow in numbers to force the invading fox out. No, this was different. It was as if many large animals were walking overhead. He trembled in fright, as bits of sand fell from the top and sides of the shaking burrow and he believed at any minute that the entire cave would collapse in on him. The vibrating ground lasted for nearly an hour and then finally faded away. Just after first sunup a strange unnatural mist crept down the burrow and swirled around him, he sniffed it nervously, for it smelt like nothing he had ever come across before, yet it was a strange mist similar to the one he had scented at Blackmire Castle. Cautiously he crawled out into the open moorland and saw the mist was thicker to the south from the direction he had come from the previous day. The air was cold, and the sun was struggling to light this area of the moors as black clouds loomed overhead. The vegetation and ground all about appeared disturbed and trampled as if a great many animals had walked this way. The grass and shrubs all flattened in the direction to the south confirming that the travelling occurrence was heading that way. Through the strange smell of mist which slowly dissipated and flowed south, came the overpowering stench of the hound. Red Whiskers backed a bit deeper into the safety of the burrow as he could detect a great many noises issuing from the boiling mist to the south. His heart raced as he heard several deep guttural shouts, a howling from an animal in pain, a continual succession of barks and the sound of many paws marching.
After a few minutes of observation, Red whiskers caught glimpses of several dark shapes in the air circling over and through the mist. The fox then realised that they were witch skyriders travelling with a considerable number of hounds. ‘Was this an army of the Wildpack?’ He whispered to himself. He had heard about their size and numbers but never had he witnessed anything like this in his entire life. ‘But where were they going? Marching into the south?’ Red Whiskers wondered. He didn’t hang around to find out as he crawled right out of the burrow and continued north with the marsh on his right, purring as much distance as he could between himself and the noisy Wildpack. The stench of hound and strange mist lingered in the air for hours as he continued. Occasionally he came across some poor unfortunate butchered animals.
A half-eaten boar, scraps of fur from several rabbits and a red and tan coloured hound torn to pieces that must have lost a fight with some of his comrades. He heard a strange noise ahead coming from the other side of a thick crop of grass. It sounded like squawking voices, jabbering and arguing. As he crept closer the sudden noise of wings flapping became apparent. Red Whiskers went to ground speedily and wriggled down into the orange and green grass. ‘Ravens’ he said to himself. ‘They always accompany witches’, goblins, hounds or all three.’ He crawled forward timidly on his belly to finally peek through a break in the grass and see what the source of the noise was. He was right. Three Ravens hopped about on the ground flapping their wings and squawking angrily at one another. Between them were the remains of a rabbit carcass. One of the three Ravens would dart in and peck at the corpse to grab a beak full of fur and flesh. The other two would chastise him and chase him away. All the while they squawked to each other ‘It’s mine! It’s mine!’
They carried on like this for several minutes while Red Whiskers thought of how to sneak away without being seen. One of the Ravens screeched loudly, and all three quickly rose into the air above the fox. He nestled himself deeper into the grass and looked up slightly baring his teeth. They circled tightly above him, screeching and squawking angrily. ‘Spy! Spy!’ they yelled. Red Whiskers bolted out of the grass cover and across the open as fast as he could. Even though Red Whiskers was bigger than a Raven, three Ravens would make a considerable foe. The sound of close flapping wings and he felt the rush of air on along his back. He jumped and snapped blindly backward as a Raven was reaching for him with outstretched claws. He bit hard on one of its legs, which immediately rose into the air carrying him a short distance of the ground. He let go, landing in the soft grass and ran even faster. The three Ravens then screeched loudly again in anger and rose high circling in the sky over the red fox for a few seconds then flew in a straight line to follow the fading Wildpack mist to the south.
Red Whiskers kept running until he was almost exhausted. Nothing appeared to be pursuing him, and he certainly wasn’t hanging around to find out. He quickly caught his breath while hiding under a thick Gorse bush and then resumed his journey at a steady pace. The fox thought he must have started heading east after a while as he veered off the trail made by the Wildpack towards the right which indicated he was rounding the top part of the marsh. Soon the marsh dried out, and he came to higher dry ground. In the distance he could make out a low pitted granite wall that rose out of the moors and stretched in both directions for several miles. He knew then that he had reached the maze of the Elvene, home of the elves. He padded along for a while, examining this rock wall and wondering how to get in. Soon he came to a short crooked wooden post and on top of this post was a sign. Now Red Whiskers couldn’t read, not many animals could in fact as there was normally nothing in the moors too read. He certainly didn’t know what a sign was, as he had never seen one of these either. He glanced up at this strange object when a soft muffled clicking noise came to his ears. Not far from where he stood, a slight
movement caught his eye. He saw that he was directly in front of a low solid Oak timber door set into the wall, so cunningly that it was difficult to see. He sniffed it and was sure it was Oak, yet it was coloured grey to blend in cleverly with the granite rock. Nothing happened at first, then after a few seconds, this door opened slowly inwards, revealing a long tunnel carved in the granite and lit with small fire lanterns silently swinging from the roof at irregular intervals. Red Whiskers, accustomed to living underground, did not approve however of large tunnels as they usually meant large animals. ‘Though these are elf tunnels, and elves are good.’ He said to himself, unconvincingly.
The tunnel appeared to slope downwards into the ground out of sight. A small grey man with a long fluffy blonde beard, long exposed pointed ears and short hair looked out of a niche in the wall behind the door. He stepped out into the tunnel in front of Red Whiskers holding a short marble staff of changing colour that emitted a low almost silent hum. Several small multicoloured jewels were masterfully embedded in an intricate pattern at both ends of this staff. He was wearing a simple ensemble of a brown tunic, trousers, and soft boots. He was one of the elders of the Elvene maze, and he looked down at Red Whiskers with amusement. Red Whiskers had never met an elf but knew from the bird’s stories that they were good and trustworthy creatures. It is known that the elves are very fond of and kind to most animals. This elf had warm almond-shaped blue and grey coloured eyes. Red Whiskers felt at ease in the presence of this elf and instantly trusted him. This was the Elf Taegan, a high born elder of the Elvene clan and he beckoned Red Whiskers into the tunnel. ‘Come this way little fox.’ He said with a warm smile. ‘Princess Eylon is expecting you.’
Without hesitation, Red Whiskers leapt up the small rock ledge and through the doorway to enter one of the last few elfish strongholds left in the moors. This elf carried a shield on his back made from some unknown woven material. A sigil was etched into the face of the shield which depicted a set of antlers with two arrows crossed beneath. He also carried a short sword in a bronze-coloured scabbard at his side. After going through the open doorway, Red Whiskers heard a slight click behind him, and he turned to see that the door had vanished. He looked forward again and saw that Taegan was gone. ‘These elves are so mysterious,’ he said to himself. The natural light disappeared, but the tunnel stayed lit through the dim glow of the small lanterns that cast a comforting orange glow. A quiet voice whispered ‘We must use such enchantments to keep our kingdom hidden as the goblins will never cease their quest to discover us, but have no fear you are safe here. Keep going’. Several of the small lanterns swung slightly, even though there was no breeze. They cast some eerie dancing shadows along the walls in front of the fox. It was all so extraordinary. Red Whiskers shook his head, gave a small cough, and continued to follow the low granite tunnel with the overhanging lanterns. As he padded forward he could hear the sound of water splashing somewhere, though the tunnel he was in was quite dry. Occasionally the floor rose, the roof dropped low, and either wall jutted in, appearing to follow a course of grain in the rock.
After a few bends in the tunnel, the floor sloped upwards steeply for a short distance before coming to a long straight section where a bright glow was visible at the far end. Red Whiskers passed several empty rooms and slowed down as a warm glow shone from a source just out of sight around the right bend. Apart from the natural light cast by the sun, moon, and stars; Red Whiskers was not accustomed to these artificial light sources that gave off this alien coloured glow. Peeking around the bend, he saw a time-worn circular chamber with several stone benches carved into the wall. In the centre of the chamber was a large crudely carved stone table covered in items scattered about that he had never seen before. The chamber was basked in warm white light, illuminated by a mysterious unseen source. Otherwise, the chamber was unfurnished and plain. His nose waved about nervously as he hugged the last shadow in the wall. He could not smell or detect any danger here and crept in.
Several elves sat on and around the stone benches here and there conversing with one another and paying no attention to Red Whiskers, apparently unaware that he had even entered the room. The majority of them sported blonde and greybeards, and they were difficult to tell apart, other than the way they wore their beards. Most were long, but some were tied in knots, braided or platted in different styles. Set in the chamber walls were passages leading off on the opposite side. An array of shields hung on one wall in a symmetrical fashion, and all carried the sigil he had seen on Taegan’s shield, representing the house of the Elvene. A dozen or more short swords leaned up against a simple timber constructed rack underneath. They looked fairly significant to the small fox, sporting straight silver double-edged blades and bronze-coloured pommels with a woven handle of similar material used in the shields. One thing Red Whiskers had heard about the elves were that they were not materialistic creatures, preferring a simple life. They did not adorn themselves with trinkets and spoils as the greedy goblins did.
The elves in this chamber also wore similar brown trousers and tunics like Taegan. An elf nearby saw Red Whiskers staring at the swords and said. ‘Do not worry little fox; these weapons cannot hurt you. Our most powerful weapons, gifted by the Druids are kept in a secret place and wielded by our champions.’ Red Whiskers was slightly surprised that the elves here were not in the least bit concerned that a strange fox was wandering around their home. He wondered if his son Red Tail was somewhere in the maze. A slight scuff of feet and Red Whiskers turned to see a slender female elf enter the chamber from one of the passages on the opposite side. She wore the simple brown garb that seemed popular among the elf, but instead of trousers and tunic, she wore a brown skirt with a small overcoat. The fine features of her face were shrouded by delicate shoulder-length brown hair. This elf had the same kind almond-shaped blue and grey coloured eyes that all these elves seemed to have. She had one hand on the shoulder of a gigantic animal that accompanied her into the chamber. Red Whiskers crouched low and backed up to the far wall with his bushy tail between his legs. He swallowed several times and stared unbelievingly at this hulking animal.
A huge muntjac, being a hybrid deer of elk and antelope bloodlines from the old world, walked by her side with a thick fur hide and massive multi-tiered antlers. He stood six feet at the shoulder, and he was forced to tilt his head slightly sideways to fit his antlers through the open door when he had entered the chamber. His antlers were embossed with glowing blue and green veins that marked an affiliation with an arcane quality. The muntjac had deep warm orange eyes, the colour of the morning sun, and he emitted an aura of power and confidence. He towered several feet above the female elf, who walked into the centre of the chamber and stood near the table looking down at Red Whiskers. An unseen aura of power and wisdom seemed to radiate from this elf. A silver chain was sitting tightly around her neck with a large glowing Ruby set in the centre of a silver pendant engraved with elfish marks. This jewel is one of the elves' precious artifacts that defined regality and power, the Ruby Gem. Her shoulder-length hair hung about her face but did nothing to mask the handsome refined facial features of the princess. She smiled down at the fox and said simply, ‘I am Eylon, daughter of Aymon.’
15.
THE WILDPACK
Several weeks travel north, and the moorlands gave way to a rise in the ground where a huge forest called Trunarth began. Trunarth being the elfish description for endless is an ancient forest of immense proportions and dense undergrowth. Monstrous Beech, Maple and Fir trees grew so thick in places, that daylight could hardly penetrate the canopy creating a world bathed in perpetual twilight. Within this forest, the Wildpack resides in an area known as the ‘New Territories.’ The hounds dominate the southern end of Trunarth along the borders with the northern region of the moors. The hounds had migrated here from the open marshlands of the moors since pacts had been made with the witches’ centuries ago. They had adapted and survived in this forest, with numbers multiplying and their pioneers discove
ring new unchallenged territories. Hunting parties continually ranged further in pursuit of food, as the Wildpack had successfully destroyed most of the native species in the area. Survivors fled further north into the deep brown unexplored forest and south into the expansive moorlands to escape and spread the word of the ferocious ever-growing Wildpack.
Their current leader, Warlord Shum was nicknamed ‘The Devastator’. He was a cruel, savage hound of a hybrid breed that resembled an oversized pit-bull terrier and a direct descendant to the ferocious Boarhound bloodlines. A thick orange coat of wiry hair covered his muscled frame. A short triangle-shaped ear stood erect and alert, while the other drooped down in an awkward comical shape that was the result of a fight with a challenger many years ago. Grey cruel eyes were set into a broad thick-set skull and a short stumpy tail completed the ensemble. He was covered in scars, some from bites and some from the mark of an elf blade. All gained from his earlier days when he fought the armies of the elves, swine, and wolves. He ruled a legion of hounds that had individual divisions of brawlers commanded by his Lieutenants. The divisions are based on the houses of breed that included the Wolfhounds, Shepherds, Rottweils, Danes, Master Staffs, and the Warlords own house the Boarhound brawlers. Only fearless hounds of particular cunning, strength and ferocity could attain command over their breed house. The houses of the Labradoodles, Pug-Tzu's and the Corgi hounds had long died out leaving only the bigger stronger house breeds to form the populace of the Wildpack.
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