“I can’t go on. I haven’t slept in days, ya know ... I don’t care- Alright, alright.” Trune whispered through dry, cracked lips. He lay on his back in a hayloft, staring up through a hole in the weathered roof. Below him, several cows milled about confined to their stalls. All else was silent. Far too silent for a working farm.
“I know, I know. Yes, I will do it. You promised me, too, remember? Well, you’d better!”
He wiped his slick hands across his chest, adding to the filth upon his worn over-shirt, crimson streaks appearing upon the brownish material. With a groan, he sat up straight; his body creaking like the open barn door that lightly swung in the wind. Clumps of matted straw stuck to his bare and decomposing feet, the stench of which he had long learned to ignore. He could not ignore the dull pain that shot up his legs and occasionally through his spine. The voice helped to sooth the pain. It promised to take the pain away when his task was through.
He had long since finished his flask and his senses were as clear as they had been in two-score years. At least as clear as one with the Rot could ever get. The voice promised and he believed. The voice promised food and he had received. The voice hadn’t been too picky when it came to the source of nourishment however.
The children had sickened him the most. Adults were easy to take but the children always screamed. Always cried. Why did they always cry? He had needed sustenance. Why not the livestock? The voice would not allow it. The voice owned him now and until he fulfilled his promise. What the voice said was done without question. The voice could kill, it said. The voice could make the pain worse, far worse. He would obey.
“I will obey. But, I won’t eat children again ... ” he murmured as he climbed down from the loft and stepped into the night air. Bodies littered the yard around the old house and chaotic patterns of dark liquid punctuated the scene, here and there. He avoided the smaller bodies and the dog and drove those memories from his mind. But, his teeth still felt their flesh.
“Yes! I’m going, I’m going ... ”
They heard the fight before they saw it, the air by now thick with dark smoke and stinking of burning wood and vegetation. They could hear the harsh clash of weapons and shouting in the near distance. It seemed the Pith had the Elves at their mercy.
“What is the lay of the land out there?” Hagan asked of one of the soldiers.
“Not far in front of us is a low circular hill surrounded at its base by trees. General Grael chose that location to make his final stand. A good strategy, I suppose, though they were outnumbered some twenty to one. I would suspect that the Pith have completely encircled the hill and attack from all sides. I can hear the General’s voice! He is still alive.”
“And it’s our job to save him and all in his command. We must strike hard, create a breach in the Pith’s line and run through, gaining the top of the hill with Vasparian. With our added numbers, we can drive them back.” Hagan said. He only hoped his plan would work. It was difficult to develop a strategy without the benefit of a clear line of sight. He was blindly guessing.
The group gathered around him nodded in agreement. Their eyes appeared hollow in the false night, fear barely hidden by a mask of strength. They would never forget the ferocity of the Pith. They were as animals and knew no reason. They attacked savagely without hesitation, simply obeying commands. His eyes settled on Shindire’s fair face and determined stare. She seemed very extraordinary to him. He had never met one of the High Elves though he had heard stories. They very rarely left their islands and when they did they were akin to outcasts. She fascinated him, he admitted. She met his eyes for a moment and he had no choice but to look away. Her eyes were so focused and cold.
“I want all archers to lead the way. Drop as many riders as you can, then the rest of us race through during the confusion. Their steeds are very unpredictable. This is my chief concern. If one thing prevents us from gaining the hill, it will be those hellish beasts. Gorin, you’ve proven that you can handle their like and I ask you to defend us as we charge.”
“Hmmm. I will not let you come to harm.” he said, his great black eyes hidden in shadow.
“Now, we work on the element of surprise. Silence will be or friend. Once your hear the bowstrings hum, run your heart out. Understood? Let’s move.”
The next few moments were tense with the ramshackle army lightly stepping across the grass, moving toward the growing sounds of conflict. Dim shapes took form. Shapes that could only be the Pith warriors. The remaining Elven army had dwindled to nearly nothing. Hagan guessed them to be less than two-score soldiers, but they fought valiantly, giving no ground. The archers, bows at the ready, moved ahead of the group and after a dozen more steps they drew their shafts back to their ears.
As one, thin black streaks sped away like lightning, many finding targets in the dark backs of the Pith. Hagan’s group charged forward. Only the sound of their feet could be heard as they bolted through the smoke to the base of the hill. Four white eyes met them as they gained the Pith’s front line and two of their great lizards leapt toward them. Gorin’s gigantic stone fist crushed the skull of the first and his shoulder sent the other careening onto its side. He motioned for Hagan to continue up the hill and strode toward the lizard that still breathed. A spear caught the Troll on the left shoulder blade, ricocheting with a visible spark and sinking into the ground nearby. As Hagan started up the steep slope, the first sign of resistance came upon them. A large group of unmounted Pith swept in from the east and drove into them, pushing them back to the base of the hill. Windenn took their leader with a swift strike to its midsection and then chaos ensued. All about was black bodies, fur and spit. D’Pharin hung from Hagan’s side as his brother fought his way up the hill with the others. The younger Marindel held a sword, but had not the strength to use it.
Three enemies leapt into the air and seemed to glide toward them, spears extended, their stunted wings not allowing for true flight. As they came down within the Elves, they drove many into the earth with their weight. Hagan spun to help them but it was too late. He killed two of the three and the other escaped into the haze, screeching.
Suddenly Windenn was at his back.
“The way is clear now. We must go! Up the hill everyone. Now!” she screamed.
In a mad rush, the remnants of their group charged up and past the Pith.
“General Grael!” one of the archers called out. “We are here! We are few, but we will drive these demons out of Elfwhere! General Grael!”
The general came into view, a Pith on his heels swinging a long blade. He raced by the archer, his blood-streaked eyes catching him momentarily.
“Welcome. Take care of this demon, won’t you?” he yelled. His once bright armor was now coated with grime and blood. At some point he had lost his helm and he bore a large gash along one temple because of it. His long, dark hair hung limply about his neck, soaked through with sweat.
The archer ran his sword through the belly of the General’s pursuer, dropping the creature to the ground.
Hagan was having a difficult time telling friend from foe in the thick haze and guarding his brother left him somewhat vulnerable. Windenn watched his back as they drove upward. Bodies flew across their vision, some in woodland garb others covered in thick dark fur. The ground had become slick with blood, slowing them further still. Hagan thought he could make out the dark form of Shindire among the combatants, dodging and cutting with practiced precision. He was impressed. Someone had taught her well.
Somewhere below, Gorin bellowed a war cry and the screams of the Pith reached their ears. Those enemies that drove up the hill turned toward the sound, unsure of their new attackers numbers and this gave the side of good the advantage. Together, they threw themselves against the dark attackers with renewed vigor, their swords crashing down upon the evil creatures. The Pith held momentarily, stubborn to the end, but could not withstand the Elves attacks. In scant minutes, the dark horde turned tail and fled a
way to the north, most of them on foot. The few lizards that remained behind were eventually destroyed and the army gathered at the top of the hill.
General Grael called out orders to his force, his voice hoarse and weak.
“To me, everyone. To me! We have driven them away but they were not alone if you remember correctly. The main body of their army headed into the forest and should have reached our brothers from Greymander. We will assist them as soon as possible, understand?”
Hagan and Windenn pulled D’Pharin to the hill’s crown and sat him there, sword in his hand. As the Elves pulled together into a tight circle, someone bumped into Hagan’s back. He turned to look and found himself face to face with his old friend Vasparian Grael. Vasp’s eyes glanced over him quickly, looked away and then once again focused clearly on his face with sudden recognition. He recoiled in shock, his memories flashing through his mind like a waking nightmare.
He saw Hagan, as he was during the Battle of the Black Sun, his face streaked with red, his eyes ever watchful. All around them, the battle raged, death called for many in those days. Back to back they had survived, while all about them, bodies lie a dozen thick and more of the Pith came charging across. As they fought they were forced to wade through the bodies of the victims, some familiar, some foreign. Their eyes staring blankly to the dark sky, forever frozen in perpetual terror. The carnage was nearly unbearable; the harsh reality of it pushed down and kept at bay lest they go mad with fear. In the end, it had become like a dance. Simply avoiding the attacks of the enemy and finding their weakness. That was all. There was no life or death. Only the dance of the blade. Their bodies seemed to move of their own accord, so many days having passed with naught but endless bloodshed. For Kirkaldin. All for Kirkaldin.
Vasp shook his head almost violently, nearly swooning where he stood and grasped Hagan’s shoulder. Once again, he met his eyes.
“Marindel? What ... What are you doing here?” he said, his voice rasping hard in his throat. He had blood in his teeth as he spoke and streaks of mud across both cheeks.
“Vasp. Let us tend to the wounded. I will explain in a moment.” Hagan said, sheathing his sword. “It’s good to see you, old friend.” He extended his hand and Vasp hesitantly took it. He was afraid of what Hagan’s presence meant. It could not be good.
Together, they looked over the remnants of the army, making the group as comfortable as possible. In but a few days, many Elves had perished and many trees had burned, the flames still raging wildly in parts of the forest. Soon, the entire company sat upon the hill and ate wild hare and vegetables that had been quickly gathered by those in good health. As he ate, Vasparian continuously watched Hagan with curious eyes, waiting. He sat with his soldiers somewhat apart from Hagan’s group.
“Hmmm. Your friend does not know what to think, Hagan. I fear he suspects the worst, by the look of him. Do you think he will join us?” Gorin asked.
“He is surprised, that is all. I hope he will see the importance of this. If the council has called me back, then it can only be a serious threat to Kirkaldin. He will come. He will come.” Hagan answered hopefully.
Vasparian stood and slowly walked away from his soldiers. He looked to Hagan and motioned for him to join him.
“Well, here goes.” Hagan said as he hopped up.
“Hmmm. Good luck.” Gorin said.
As he approached, Vasp had an unusual look on his face. One of confusion and anger and a flash of sadness. Hagan decided to allow him to speak first.
“Hagan, what is it you want? I-I am sorry but I had lost faith in you after all those years. You disappeared. Ran away from everything.” he said, picking his words carefully.
“The council has called me back to Harquinn, Vasp.”
“How does that concern me? I am now a General in the army of Elfwhere. I have commitments. Hagan, I have a wife and three children.” Vasp said, pulling on the woven wooden necklace he wore. This piece of jewelry was the Elves symbol for marriage, exchanged on their wedding day. “You ran away, Hagan. A hero does not do that.”
“Vasp, are you saying the Battle of the Black Sun didn’t affect you? Do you feel nothing? How could you forget? The ... things we had to do. The killing. All of the senseless killing.”
“How dare you say that to me! Trust me, I feel everything. The war affected me just as it did you, but I did not run and hide. I have forgotten nothing and no one! Wind, Hagan, Renzig died in my arms and Rungaard at my side. Do you think that because I did not let my life stop, that I had forgotten?” Vasp shouted.
“It hurt so bad, Vasp. I just wanted to let it go. Get it out of my head. I could not get the blood out of my head.”
“Hagan, I bear the scars, of both mind and body. We did not have much chance, friend. Even the Redmasks were scattered. When Kinrahd fell, all hope fell with him.”
“Do you think me a coward, Vasparian?” Hagan asked. He could not stand that.
“No, Hagan. I know that is not true. A coward does not survive the way you did. You have an uncanny skill with that blade of yours. I do believe, though, that you chose the wrong path after the war. You cut yourself off and what has changed? Do you feel better now? Has all the pain gone away? It hasn’t for me, but I did not lose my life.”
“In the night, I wake with nightmares of the dead, those that I killed and those of us that died. These will never truly go away, I am certain. If one does forget, one is not worthy of salvation. What kind of Man would you be if you actually forgot the war?”
Hagan was silent for a moment.
Damn. He’s right. He usually is. What the hell have I done? I’ve wasted all this time and he’s a general, still fighting for the cause of good.
He nearly burst into tears but stopped himself quickly. Heroes don’t cry either, I suppose, he thought.
“I’m so sorry, Vasp. I can’t explain what happened after the War. I just closed everything off. Everything and everyone. Hell, I even missed seeing D’Pharin grow up because I was too busy drinking. I haven’t been a brother or friend to anyone for a dozen years.” He paused momentarily.
“Can you forgive me, friend?” he finally asked.
Vasp frowned, staring at the dark sky. He had felt so alone all of these years wondering where Hagan had gone. They had literally grown up together in battle. One cannot remain a boy long with a sword in one’s hand. He had felt such great anger toward his old comrade, wanted nothing more than to forget. Now, here he was in the flesh asking for help. What audacity!
“You have always been my brother, Marindel. That has not changed, you should know that. There is nothing to forgive. Many others that served with us did not fare as well as you. Many could not stand their inner demons and took their own lives. Some simply lost their minds. You would be surprised at how many veterans of the Battle of the Black Sun reside on Harrow Isle.”
“Harrow Isle? That place is reserved for the terminally insane.” Hagan whispered. The island had long ago been set-aside as a prison, surrounded by tall stone walls. Once a person was sent inside, there was no return. Some said that the inmates ruled the island but who really knew? It was a dreadful place, a place of evil and lunacy.
“If Davaris has once again called for you, this is of utmost importance. I will come, Marindel. You would never have come this far, had you not expected me to join you. You know me well. This silly thing, honor, never lets me be. I must send word to my family. My wife will never understand ... I hate to do this to her.” Vasp said rubbing his temple with one hand.
“What is her name?” Hagan asked.
“What?” Vasp had been lost in thought.
“Your wife. What is her name?”
“Thylean. Wind, she is the most beautiful creature. You would not believe ... Remember all of those long nights when we talked about what our lives would be after the War? The women we would find? The plans we had made? She is that dream made real. This will hurt her so badly. There is not time for me to return home, correct?”
> Hagan shook his head, no.
“How do I explain that when my home needs my help the most, I run off on some fool mission with my war buddy?”
Hagan had no answer.
“Go to your friends, Marindel. I will give the message to my captain, then I will be along. The archers tell me Lyndremaene has sent a boat for you. We must make haste if we are to catch it before the Pith. The Illdredge is some distance from here on foot. I will be along shortly, friend.” Vasp said.
“Thank you, Vasparian. I could not do this without you.” Hagan said with much emotion.
“Yes, you could, Marindel. It just might not be as easy without me. Whatever it is, we will handle it.” Vasp said with the first smile Hagan had seen since their reunion. He walked away toward his soldiers.
Hagan rejoined the others. D’Pharin still sat on the ground, holding his chest. Gorin and Windenn conversed in a hushed tone and Shindire stood far away, almost melting into the haze.
“Vasparian will join us.” he announced.
“Hmmm, that is good news. Now, we can fulfill Councilcrane’s request and hopefully be there as soon as the Wind allows. How soon can we leave?” Gorin asked.
“He is passing word through his men back to Nael Daren. They will tell his family of his departure. I hate to drag him away from his home, but I trusted him with my life during the war and I know I can trust him still. It won’t be long.” Hagan answered, staring back the way he had come.
“He seems a good general.” Windenn remarked, helping D’Pharin to his feet.
“That he is, Woodwarden, and a good friend. Has she spoken to anyone yet?” he asked, referring to Shindire who calmly made notes in one of her large tomes.
“Not yet. I’m sure she thinks us all below her. Did you see her during the battle, Hagan? She has some training. Her style is strange to me, but it seems very effective. She is not wounded. Not even scratched. Yes, someone trained her well. Someone across the sea I would presume.” Windenn said, a slight pang of jealousy in her stomach.
After a brief pause, Vasparian returned. His face had been cleansed of the grit of battle and his hair as well. He wore it tied back and out of his face, his woven wooden necklace standing out obviously. Someone had supplied him with a new green cloak, his having been torn to shreds by the Pith.
“We have no horses left. Those that were not killed were driven off or taken away. To the south and west lies the Illdredge. If we move quickly, we can make it by nightfall but we must be careful, the Pith are still out there. I can smell them.” he said squinting as he stared into the haze.
They fell in line behind the general and moved out quickly, his pace swift and gruelling. Through many dense patches of brush and weeds they struggled, barely matching his pace. D’Pharin, who was recovering at a fair pace, still had a hard time of it. The others took turns lending their arms and shoulders, pulling him along. For hours, Vasp did not turn back until D’Pharin asked a question.
“Why can’t we woodwalk like before?”
Vasp pulled up short, his concentration broken. He turned to the group, his face slick and shiny with sweat.
“The woodwalk is not something to be done lightly. When it is performed, the power of the forest is weakened for some time. And-I am only one Elf. Whose hand would you take?”
D’Pharin grew silent once more.
“He is but a Man, cousin. How do you expect his like to fathom such things?” The soft yet bitter voice of Shindire cut through the air.
The entire group turned toward her in surprise. The humans among them held their tongues in anticipation.
“Comments such as those are not welcome, Shindire. Keep them to yourself or better yet do not think them at all.” Vasp scolded.
She simply displayed a slight grin. Hagan stared at her briefly, letting his immediate anger subside.
She’s one of those, is she? She doesn’t like me because my ears don’t end in a point. It is really no wonder that relations between Elf and Man are all but gone.
At the same time he realized that such prejudice existed in the minds of many of his people as well. Would thoughts such as these ever truly go away? Do not creatures of the same ilk flock together naturally? Questions such as these produced a slight pain in his forehead.
“In another league or so we will reach the river. If the Pith are hiding in ambush within Elfwhere, then Illdredge is a likely place. We can only hope that the boat is safe and waiting. If not, it will be a long, long walk out of here. There is no going back the way we came.” Vasp said intensely.
Soon, an area of low rolling hills greeted them, covered with smaller varieties of trees and shrubs. Thick groupings of violets and fiery marigolds sprouted up everywhere, their bright and vibrant colors even showing through the thinning haze. The woods had become thicker the closer they had gotten to the river’s edge. Even as they traveled to the south, leaves had covered the ground and still constantly fell from above. The air had grown clearer and breathing was easier though the smell still assaulted their nostrils. The group started suddenly as a large buck darted through the brush; its eyes round with fright, its tail mostly burnt away. It headed eastward, crashing through the low-hanging branches and then leaping into water. The splashing caught their attention, everyone turning their eyes to follow the path of the deer. Obviously they were closer to the river than Vasp had anticipated.
Just then, the low call of a horn bellowed out and echod eerily in the dark sky.
“Come! The boat awaits!” Vasp called out, rushing toward the sound.
Together they ran forward, wading through the tall grasses and weeds. Then, the trees parted and the Illdredge spread out before them. At nearly a league across it was the widest river this side of the Edge. In moments, they stood among the rushes, eyes squinting to make out the long shadow of the Elven vessel. No lights were visible, keeping the boat as hidden as possible. It glided slowly downriver toward them and they could make out the low thud of boots upon the open deck.
Vasparian reached into his pack, fumbling inside for a moment then stepping knee-deep into the river, he raised his hand into the air. Golden light grew there and expanded slowly outward as if the haze had been set on fire. The sunglobe pulsed three times and went dark but there was an immediate reaction within the boat. The hard splashing of great oars issued forth and the great shadow grew larger as it drew close. They heard hushed Elven conversation with a smattering of the language of Man as those aboard made ready for boarders.
Behind them there came a sudden commotion in the trees as something raced toward the group. Vasp quickly returned to the shore and drew his sword. Hagan joined him once again back to back with his old partner. Gorin stepped up next to them.
“We have to get the others on that boat no matter what is coming. I feared an ambush and now it appears I was justified.” Vasp said with a sigh.
“Hmmm. Quiet for a moment. I hear Men. Those are not Pith out there.” Gorin said.
“Men? There are no Men within Elfwhere other than Hagan and his brother. You must be mistaken, my friend.” Vasp answered.
“Hmmm. I am sorry. I hear the language of Men coming from a woman. I assure you there is a female heading this way speaking the human tongue.”
Vasp wrinkled his forehead in thought. This was not possible. The Elves always knew who entered their forest and this had not been forewarned. A human female? The armies of the Pith were merely animals without the capacity of speech and their leaders, the Rone’Pith would certainly not be mistaken for females.
Gorin tilted his head to one side, listening intently. He recognized the voice. Somewhere recently he had heard this female’s voice. Suddenly, it came to him.
“Hagan, it-“ he was suddenly cut off as a group of a dozen figures burst into their midst.
Many men led by one human female skidded to a halt in front of them, weapons raised in defense. The woman looked from face to face finally settling on Hagan. Her black hair was a tangled mess upon her he
ad and as her eyes met Hagan’s he noticed the silver necklace around her neck. He gasped in shock.
“Amitee? ... ”
“Hagan, I ... ”
“How ...? What are you doing here ... ?” he stuttered, slowly walking toward her.
She quickly composed herself and moved up to him, running her palm across his chest as she spoke.
“I ... I couldn’t let you go, my love. These men agreed to help me find you. I paid them to find you Hagan and now we can be together again. Together forever as it should be.”
He was confused and bewildered. He looked around at the men that accompanied her. They seemed no more than cutthroats and rogues. Swords for hire. Where had she found these ruffians? This all made little sense.
“You know this woman?” Vasp asked with his blade at the ready.
“Yes I do. She is Amitee. She had been my companion for many years up until days ago. I had thought her to be in Lauden where I had left her.”
Amitee turned and gazed into the trees the way they had come. She seemed more than a little anxious.
“We are being pursued, Hagan. Those black creatures were right behind us. They outnumber us many times over.”
Hagan grabbed Amitee by the upper arm and pulled her along to the edge of the Illdredge.
“We have a way out. A boat. We must go now.” he said and then turned to the rest of the group. “Let’s go, everyone. Quickly, onto the boat.”
Vasp shook his head. There was no other choice, but something was not right. How did these men walk into Elfwhere unnoticed? He would be watchful, he decided. He joined the others.
As one, they waded into the water. Windenn helped D’Pharin to the rope ladders that had been dropped over the side and within scant moments they were all aboard. Amitee’s men quickly moved off to the foredecks and kept to themselves. The crew appeared to be comprised of mostly Elves, but by the appearance of the passengers, they had picked up several members of other races as well. This boat had been many places, it seemed, rescuing people from the Pith.
Gorin took the ladder below decks and grabbed an oar. With his help, the boat quickly pulled away from the shore and moved into the center of the river. Harsh shrieks and growls were heard from the shoreline as the Pith reached the river. Orders were barked out by their commander, but far too late. Spears and arrows fell short into the dark water to his dismay. Their lizard beasts would not brave the current of the Illdredge, it being by far the strongest of the Kirkaldin rivers. Soon, the Elven craft was out of sight, its passengers safe for the time being. The Rone’Pith spat curses at the sky and ground his fangs into his coarse black lip. Mournenhile would be most displeased. He would blame his soldiers as always.
Now to continue the burning of the forest. Down with the skinny ones.
They spent the next hour speeding the vessel downriver with as much swiftness as possible. Once they could relax and take in their surroundings, they noticed that the air had completely cleared.
D’Pharin sat at the rear of the boat upon a large coil of rope watching the waves dwindle behind them. This boat was an astonishing craft, reflecting the beauty of the Elves in every curve. The prow and stern sat much higher off the water than the main section of the boat like a crescent moon gliding down the Illdredge. All along the outer rails, a pattern of Elm leaves had been carved. He had the urge to rise and run his hands along them. He had mostly recovered by now from his battle with the lizard steed, with only a hint of stiffness throughout his upper body. He could not overcome the feeling of extreme exhaustion, however, and soon his eyelids grew heavy.
Windenn and Gorin stood at the stern rail, each voicing their concern with the sudden appearance of Amitee. Neither trusted the woman and the circumstances were altogether strange.
“There’s somethin’ hiding behind those black eyes, Grimandin. She’s hiding somethin’, I can feel it.” And it was true. Inside of Windenn a sense of danger had cropped up. Not a case of intuition, she had had those before. This was new. This feeling left no doubt. Make no mistake, she knew this to be true. Amitee had evil intentions.
“Hmmm ... things do not add up, do they? I find it difficult to believe that these men just happened through Lauden and she had the coin to hire them. Men like that do not take on search and rescue assignments. Theirs is usually a task of destruction or theft. I have seen their like many times. Be wary, Woodwarden. Be wary.” Gorin said quietly.
Shindire had disappeared somewhere below decks and Vasparian had joined the captain in his quarters. The boat seemed filled to the brim with refugees, many bearing the scars of battle. A small group of Elven children played near the bow, occasionally scolded by a woman in a long golden skirt. All of the males on board eyed the shoreline on both sides, fearing ambush at any time.
Below, Hagan and Amitee were in the midst of an intense conversation. She covered his face with kisses and refused to let him go.
“Amitee, hold it a moment. Let me speak.” he said, attempting to hold her at arm’s length.
“Speak all you want, my love. How I’ve missed you. I cannot live without you, Hagan. Come back with me.”
Her words were soothing and dreamlike to his ears and once again he remembered how she had held his heart all those years. He felt weakened, the energy falling from him and he lost the will to argue. She had always been able to lead him around like a dog on a leash. He had never cared. Now he did, but he was in her control.
“Come, Hagan. We will find a cabin. You need rest, my love.” she whispered, brushing the soot from his cheeks.
She was right. He needed rest. Suddenly, exhaustion hit him like a stone wall and he could not fight it. Together, they moved down the narrow hall, he leaning on her. He wondered where her escorts had gone.
I suppose they have completed their task. They found me. Just how did they find me?
The remainder of the day was rather uneventful, the boat quickly slipping down the river, gradually departing the great forest of Elfwhere. There were no signs of the Pith along the banks, no smoke in the air. The passengers had long since calmed and settled into more mundane activities. Men played cards and swapped stories, women corralled children and prepared an evening meal. Wonderful smells encircled the vessel as the moon began to rise through the dense branches and leaves.
D’Pharin, Gorin and Windenn had gathered near a makeshift table at the stern, plates nearly overflowing with vegetables and bread.
“Where did Hagan get off to?” D’Pharin asked, his cheeks full.
“Hmmm. One can only guess.” Gorin answered with a sly wink.
Windenn glared at the Troll and did not speak. The sharp pangs of jealousy jabbed her insides. She was confused. She did not want Hagan. What good could come of it? Then again, what was not to like? Especially now. More and more he had become the hero once more. It was there in his gestures and his posture. It was clear that he was a leader among men and she understood how so many had followed him into battle nearly a decade ago.
Ah! This is pointless. He does not feel the same, I know it. And now this Amitee apears and sweeps him away.
Her anger rose as she imagined the two of them together.
Damn it all!
She made the decision to sleep there on the deck that night. Gorin and D’Pharin remained there as well and talked until the moon was high overhead.
Hagan slept deeply, his breathing loud in the tiny cabin and Amitee watched. Her nude body lie close to his, her arm on his chest. She had always been able to seduce him and this time was no different. She watched his chest slowly rise, his eyes fluttering occasionally under his lids.
If the council had not summoned him, they would have remained together forever. That was how it was supposed to have been. But he had left with the Troll. Left her behind like a discarded toy.
And that is where she had failed. Keep him docile so that he would never rise up again. Keep him secreted away in Lauden until he died of old age. Now she must follow through with
her task. There could only be one outcome. She felt a small twinge in her stomach at the thought but there truly was no other way. She had known that this was a possibility since the beginning.
Below the small wooden cot on which they lay, she reached, her hand finding its way into the large leather sack she had placed there earlier. She drew her hand up to her chest, now clutching a slim dagger with a blade the length of her hand. She breathed slowly, her eyes never leaving Hagan’s face.
Carefully she raised herself up into a sitting position, disturbing the cot only slightly and tightened her grip on the blade’s curved handle. She supported her weight with one hand and lifted the blade high over her head.
Sorry, love. It was nice.
The tiny cabin door flew violently inward, snapping the wooden frame and jarring Hagan into wakefulness. Windenn charged through the doorway, teeth bared, and hit the shocked Amitee in the sternum with her closed fist. A bright flame of white lightning exploded from her and drove Amitee into the far wall. Her mouth hung open. The dagger hit the planked floor with a loud clank. Her wide eyes stared out at nothing as smoke drifted from her throat. Face down she fell, her forehead striking the floor near Windenn’s feet.
The Woodwarden stared at the woman’s naked form in a trance-like state, her hand clenched in a tight fist and held at her thigh. The white-hot glow began to fade around her fingers and the room began to grow dim once more.
Hagan thought he could see a slight halo around her as she stood there. Power was all around her in the air. Power and fear. He was suddenly so afraid of her. And Amitee was dead? Killed by Windenn. What was this?
“Windenn?” he whispered slowly. “What just happened here?”
She slowly turned her face toward his like a sleepwalker just waking from her dream, still not truly seeing what was in front of her. One lone tear ran down her left cheek and dropped onto her shirt and suddenly she snapped. Realization came quickly to her face and her eyes shot back to Amitee.
“Hagan ... She was going to kill you ... I-“
“What? Why would-“ he started.
Windenn stepped to the side to reveal the dagger that still lie near Amitee’s lifeless hand.
“Wind. How is this possible? Why? ... ” Hagan said, nearly in tears himself.
“Hagan, I felt it. From up on deck, I could nearly see her as she reached for the dagger. I don’t know what’s happening inside of me ... Something inside of me ... has changed ... ”
“It’s the necklace, Hagan. Her necklace is full of dark magic. With its power, she drained you. That is how she controlled you. I fear it was given her by Mournenhile himself. He is afraid of you and now that you are free of her-well, she was sent to kill you. Those men weren’t hired by her, they are servants of Mournenhile.”
Windenn cried out loud as she explained.
He must believe her. He must!
Hagan stared open-mouthed at Amitee’s back, then at the necklace she still wore. She had never been without it, it was true. This would explain his sudden revitalization at his departure from Lauden. It made sense. She had kept him weak all of this time.
“I believe you, Windenn. I do.” he said calmly. “It’s just so hard to accept. I’ve been fooled. All of these years the enemy was in my bed.”
She nodded and wiped her nose on her sleeve. She was so frightened of this. This thing that was building inside of her.
Please, Hagan. Don’t be afraid of me. I could not bear that.
“Windenn, it’s alright. Come, sit. It’s going to be alright.”
She hesitantly sat at the edge of the cot and could not take her eyes from Amitee. She had killed. Not with bow or sword, but something far worse. Something that seemed almost out of her control.
“You saved my life, Windenn.”
She nodded.
“How long have you had ... this?” Hagan asked hesitantly.
She brushed hair from her eyes.
“Since the Wisp. Something happened. She did something to me.” she said, her eyes cast downward.
Hagan put a hand on her shoulder.
“This is sorcery, Windenn and strong sorcery at that.”
“I can’t control it, Hagan. I don’t know how-I’m afraid it’ll kill me. Am I strong enough to contain this power?” She stopped abruptly, her eyes turning to his.
“No one else can know about this-“
“Windenn ... ”
“No one! Promise me, Hagan. No one will trust me. I know how it is with mages. I’ve heard the talk.”
“No one would treat you that way. We-“
“Hagan, you must promise me.” she pleaded.
He exhaled and shook his head.
“Very well. How do we get her out of here without anyone noticing? What about her men?”
Just then came a loud knock on the cabin door. They both jumped.
“Who’s there?” Hagan called out.
Gorin’s deep voice came from the other side of the door.
“Hagan? Is everything alright? I cannot find the Woodwarden. Have you heard from her? She is nowhere on the deck.”
“We need his help, Windenn.” Hagan whispered. “You know you can trust him.”
She squeezed her eyes closed tightly, then nodded.
“Let him in.” she said.
“Come in, Gorin.” Hagan called.
The door creaked open, the Troll’s large head ducking to navigate the doorway. He stepped inside and immediately saw the dead woman on the floor. He looked to Hagan in confusion.
“Shut the door.” Hagan said and Gorin quickly did so.
“Hagan, Windenn ... Hmmmm, what is going on here? What happened?” he stuttered, his eyes darting about in shock.
Windenn spoke up, explaining the details of what had transpired, all of the while pleading with her eyes that Gorin would understand. When she had finished, there came a moment of silence, the Troll searching their faces intensely.
“Hmmm. In the interest of secrecy, we must remove her body, however her men will come searching for her when she does not join them come the morn. When daylight comes and they do not find her, they will not be happy.”
Hagan had been correct, they could trust Gorin. She should have never doubted her old friend. They had been through so much together.
A loud commotion reached them from above, the sound of booted feet moving quickly and muffled shouts of surprise. As one, their eyes searched the ceiling, straining to hear the cause. Then, from outside the cabin, Vasparian’s voice.
“Hagan! There is something you must see, my friend. Quickly!” he shouted with much urgency.
“Just a moment, Vasp.” Hagan answered. Windenn turned away as he stood and dressed. Gorin bent down and gathered Amitee’s body, gently lifting her and placing her upon Hagan’s cot. Her eyes were open, frozen in an expression of utter shock and disbelief. He placed a sheet of linen over her face and turned for the door.
Windenn snatched up the dagger and stuck it in her belt.
“What about the necklace?” she asked.
“Well, we know I can’t touch it.” Hagan said, his hands in the air.
“Hmmm. Mournenhile is aware of it. He most likely knows its whereabouts. Perhaps he will send someone after it. It would be best to discard the thing, don’t you agree?” Gorin said.
Windenn and Hagan nodded simultaneously.
“However, if we get rid of it here, Mournenhile will send his minions into Elfwhere to retrieve it.” Windenn added.
“True.” Hagan said. “Let’s hold onto it and turn it over to Councilcrane once we reach Harquinn.”
“Agreed.” Gorin said.
Together, they left the cabin and Amitee’s body, heading for the ladder. As they neared it, shouts could be heard clearly from above. Were they under attack?
Vasparian ran up, sword drawn and eyes intense.
“Hagan. Get up here, man. Some dark sorcery is about us.” he said.
They reached the deck and looked all about them.
Near the stern rail, a crowd had gathered, staring down near their feet.
“What the hell is it, Vasp?” Hagan yelled, reaching for his blade.
Vasp did not answer. In moments, they had joined the crowd. D’Pharin was there, hand over his mouth. He walked away as his brother walked up.
As Hagan pushed his way through those gathered, he stopped short, puzzled. On the deck, strewn about like great wet leaves were several dark cloaks and pieces of a lighter pale material, nearly pink in color. The cloaks were familiar and almost immediately recognition came. Amitee’s men.
Where had they gone?
The others appeared hesitant to get too close but Hagan could not resist. He knelt, his blade held out and lifted one of the soggy pieces from the deck planking. As he pulled it up and to him, small bits of pinkish material fell away and dropped heavily near his boots. He heard a quick gasp from those around him and gave a second look.
What was this? Is that ... a face?
He threw his blade to the deck and backed away.
It was their skins. They had not only left their clothing, but their outer skins as well. They had not been men at all.
“Wind!” he shouted as he covered his face with his hand.
He did not need to explain. Everyone understood. Several members of the crew grabbed buckets and washed the sickly remains overboard. It quickly sunk below the surface of the Illdredge but would not leave their minds for some time. Mournenhile’s demons donning the skins of men. That such evil had easily walked among them unchecked disturbed them. They would all need to be much more careful in the future.
Vasparian put a hand on Hagan’s shoulder, startling him and spinning him around.
“Your woman may not be too happy when she discovers this. I’m sure she paid them handsomely to escort the two of you back to Lauden.” he stated.
“Vasp, let’s talk. Somewhere more private.” Hagan said.
The two moved into the wheelhouse, Vasp politely dismissing the captain and Hagan related the events that had taken place in his cabin. Vasp remained silent, only his eyes betraying his inner emotion. As Hagan’s tale ended, he whistled quietly.
“You certainly know how to pick women, don’t you? Who else but Hagan Marindel would end up with a servant of Mournenhile as a lover. Wind. Perhaps you should strike up a relationship with your savior, the Woodwarden. A woman that risks her neck to save yours is worth keeping around, eh?”
Hagan laughed.
“Amusing as usual, Vasp. What about Amitee? Her body, that is?”
“Do not worry. I will have someone take care of it.”
“By the way, Vasp, where is Shindire? Did she vanish as well?”
“No, no, the captain has given her access to his logbooks. I assume she is hiding somewhere studying them. She seemed very interested but I suppose that is her lot in life. Thirst for knowledge and all that.”
Hagan only grumbled. He still did not trust the High Elven Graelund. After Amitee, how could he trust anyone? She had fooled him for so many years. How had he missed it? A necklace. That’s all she had needed to keep him down.
Never again.
Never.
A Dream of Storms, In the Shadow of the Black Sun: Book One Page 11