by Candy Rae
“Neither did we,” answered Aranel, “but Urieline was positive she heard someone up the track. The crack of a dry branch perhaps. We decided we had better not take any chances. The bridge is up ahead.”
Ursulaine spoke up and it was in that instant that Kirsty realised that her hitherto unfounded suspicions were correct. Unicorns were telepathic.
“Urieline says that she cannot hear anything, but there are signs that we are not alone. The birds, she says, are restless, and the scurriers are hiding in their burrows.”
“So the trackway is being watched?” suggested Aranel.
Ursulaine nodded. “I must agree. But who is it?”
“The same someone who was at the lodge I would guess,” answered Aranel. “Urieline was right.”
“The Morityaro,” breathed Kirsty.
“Probably.”
“Did you see any sight of them at the tower at Nosta?” asked Ursulaine.
“No sight at all. The place was deserted of life except for a few scurriers here and there. I felt menace though, as I left the ruin.”
“But they might have been there,” said Kirsty. “Watching. Bob told me they are experts at watching. What if you were followed?”
“But I don’t see how. The ring pulled me down off the cliff and into the T’Quel mists and then we met. When we left there was nothing. I’m sure no one was watching, and how would a full-grown Morityaro elf manage to squeeze through the tunnel? We found it hard. And, what’s more, there was no one at the place where Urieline was waiting for me. She would have sensed being watched.”
Ursulaine nodded her black head, assenting to Aranel’s statement.
“No,” continued Aranel, “my guess is that the Morityaro, if it is them, have been watching the track and guarding the bridge.”
“Is there any other way over the gorge?” asked Kirsty.
Aranel shook her head. She sat down suddenly, her head in her hands. “I have failed.”
“No you haven’t,” said Kirsty in an instant. “We’ll think of something.”
She sat down beside Aranel. Ursulaine went to find water, telling them that she would be back in a bit.
“The first thing to find out is if the bridge is being watched. It might just be a false alarm,” Kirsty began. Aranel didn’t move. “So how do we do that?”
“I don’t know,” said Aranel, sunk in despondency. “Don’t you see? If Urieline thought she heard something then it is almost certainly true! Unicorn sense is much better than ours. Kirsty, I’m so tired I can’t think straight.”
“The bridge may be being watched, but let’s not invite trouble,” said Kirsty in a neutral voice. This was the first time the indomitable Aranel had admitted to having any weaknesses, if tiredness caused by lack of sleep could be considered a weakness but there was no point, she decided, in making a drama out of a crisis. “We need to find out.”
“How? When?” asked Aranel in a muffled voice.
“We go and take a look,” answered Kirsty. “I’ll do it if you want, but both of us need to rest first. You’ll have to point me in the right direction.”
“You?” cried Aranel. “You’re volunteering to go? Kirsty, you haven’t a sword, you don’t even know how to hold a fighting knife properly never mind what to do if you run into trouble.”
“I want to find my mum,” Kirsty explained with a newly found determination, “and if finding her means that I have to go floundering around in a country I know nothing about, in a world I know nothing about, chasing after nasty, hooded, black-robed personages who fight and kidnap people for a living, then so be it.”
She sounded so fierce that Aranel laughed.
“Kirsty,” she said, “you are funny sometimes.”
“I don’t see how.”
“Don’t you? Never mind. You’re right; we both need to rest. The unicorns will keep their eyes and ears open. They can manage for days at a time without sleep. Catches up eventually. We need to sleep.”
“I always thought before I came here that elves didn’t need any sleep at all.”
“What? Who told you that?”
“It’s in most of the stories.”
“You have stories about us in your world?”
“Hundreds and hundreds of them.”
“How strange,” Aranel yawned.
“Sleep,” ordered Kirsty. “Over there by that tree. It’s not going to keep the rain off if it starts but its trunk is fairly thick and at least we’ll be out of the wind. We can go and hunt for these phantom watchers once we’ve rested. I’m tired too. This last week or so has been pretty traumatic.”
And that, she contemplated as she wrapped Aranel’s sleep blanket round them, (Kirsty’s blanket had been in Bob’s gigantic rucksack) was an understatement if ever there was one.
When Ursulaine came back after finding water, she found both of them fast asleep. She settled down beside them, content to rest until Urieline called for her to take over the watch.
* * * * *
Although they had not meant to, the two girls slept until well into the next afternoon.
Aranel woke first, blinking as the sunlight hit her eyes. However, the sky appeared to be clouding over. Rain, she decided, would be the order of what was left of the day and night.
She saw Urieline lying not far away and correctly assumed that Ursulaine had taken over the watching and listening. Now that she was not so tired, she felt more able to assess the situation and decide on what to do. She was a trained warrior and should know what to do. Kirsty wasn’t and she was new to Alfheimr; she mustn’t expect her to understand what must be done.
Kirsty was still sleeping and Aranel decided to leave her to her slumbers. She looked so vulnerable lying there. Though she doesn’t look like me, I can maybe see a touch of Father about her in the set of her chin, she is most definitely my sister. Father wouldn’t have given this Bob the book to give to her if she wasn’t. But I wish he had left us clearer instructions, more about what we have to do and what is going on. I suppose all we can do is our best and continue as we are doing. I wonder where Father is now.
Kirsty stirred in her sleep.
I wonder if her dreams are as bad as mine?
Kirsty’s dreams were indeed not the most peaceful she had ever had. The last week’s events were all in them, in some manner or other, all jumbled up and sufficiently bizarre and horrifying to make her restless.
Aranel contemplated waking her but decided against it. I’m better going to see on my own, she decided. She’ll only worry. Since the two of them had met, Aranel had assumed leadership of their little party.
Suiting her actions to her thoughts, Aranel got ready for her night reconnaissance. She made sure her clothes were fitting tightly to her body, wishing that she had some armour to protect her if she did come across the Morityaro and was seen. She slid her knives into her belt, swung her bow and quiver over her shoulder and picked up her sword. She wished, not for the first time, that it was her own sword she was carrying. This one, her father’s, was really too long and heavy for her slight frame. Its hilt was bulkier too and her small hands were finding it hard to grip without strain. Still, it couldn’t be helped.
Hope Kirsty’ll be all right until I get back. After telling Urieline where she was going, she crept away through the trees in the direction of the bridge. She had no fear of getting lost.
She knew that the unicorns would look after Kirsty, which relieved her worries a little.
* * * * *
Aranel didn’t follow the track that led to the bridge. She approached the stone edifice obliquely, through the trees, her step sure but cautious. If there were Morityaro watching the bridge, she didn’t want to alert them to her presence and she sincerely hoped that there wouldn’t be more than one or two at the most.
Aranel actually knew very little about the Morityaro, except for the fact that they were mercenaries, that they would do anything if the price was high enough and they were excellent fighters. The very natu
re of their ‘work’ was secretive and clandestine although, as had happened at Tanquelameir, they would come out into the open for a price, a high price. She wondered how much it had cost the elf that had hired them to attack the castle, perhaps more than a king’s ransom. She remained concerned that their enemy was one of the kings, King Jegvran (because of the glove) or perhaps one of the High Lords.
She continued to take her meticulous route to the bridge checking the ground before she set her foot down with every step. Every so often she thought she heard something moving amongst the trees and stopped to listen, but each time it was a false alarm, just forest scurriers moving about in the undergrowth.
She reached a spot that gave her a good view. She climbed a high tree, being careful not to slip and was peeking out through its branches when she inhaled a breath and didn’t let it out again until her lungs began to hurt.
There was a black-clothed, motionless figure crouching on the ground ahead of her. If she hadn’t been deliberately looking she would never have seen him.
She heard a noise, the crack of a branch and looked down.
Morityaro!
Staring up at her was another black-hooded figure. He must have been following her. So much for her wood and tracking skills!
* * * * *
Kirsty woke to a not so gentle nudge in her side by Urieline. For a heartbeat or two she was confused about where she was and what she was doing sleeping outside, under a tree. Only for a moment though, she saw Urieline’s head, recognised the ebony-coloured horn sprouting from the middle of her forehead and knew she wasn’t still in the middle of her last nightmare.
“Aranel,” nudged Urieline.
“Aranel? What?” Kirsty looked around. “Where is she?”
“She went to scout ahead, to the bridge,” Urieline informed her in a worried whinny. “She should have been back by now. The bridge is not far.”
“We’d better go look for her then,” said Kirsty, standing up.
Urieline’s relief at Kirsty’s reaction was palpable.
“Though I don’t know what I can do,” added Kirsty. “I’m not a warrior.”
“But you have brains,” Urieline said. “Aranel says you are very clever.”
“I don’t know about that,” demurred Kirsty, “but I have to do something. She might be sitting there, making sure the bridge is clear before coming back to tell us.” Kirsty’s words were hopeful.
Urieline shook her head.
“No, she would have returned. I should not have let her go by herself but she said there was less chance of being seen if she was alone.”
Kirsty thought, at least Aranel had been quite right in this prognosis. Although the unicorns often tried to be quiet, their very bulk and the fact they had four hooves forfeited any chance they might have of traversing a forest floor in complete silence. Their strength was in speed and Aranel had told her that, when danger came, they preferred to run rather than fight.
“It’s not that they are cowards, you understand,” Aranel had told her. It was amazing really, if Kirsty thought about it, how much of the information about her world that Aranel had tried to cram into her brain, was sticking. “It’s just that they are not equipped to fight elves with swords and other dangers on their own. Don’t get me wrong,” she had continued, “they can and will fight when they have to. The sagas tell of battles during the Elf Wars when unicorns fought, and bravely too, but it’s not in their nature, not really.”
Much like horses, Kirsty had thought at the time and indeed, they looked very similar to horses, except for the horn and the wider forehead.
She hurriedly donned her jacket and hunted in her rucksack for the knife Bob had given her. Not having a belt, she stuck it down her trouser front where it dug into her skin but she ignored the discomfort. Aranel had been surprised at her lack of such an accoutrement and amazed when Kirsty had shown her the zip fastener on her trousers.
So what now?” she asked.
“I will remain here to guard,” Urieline told her. Ursulaine will take you along the path to the point where she can go no further. After that you will be on your own.”
“Right,” agreed Kirsty, who had a scared, sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach but was trying not to let it show. “I’m going to leave the packs here. If we are captured I don’t want them falling into the wrong hands, and these Morityaro are most definitely the wrong hands. If we are captured, then you and Ursulaine must take them to that hunts-elf friend of Aranel. Rohir, isn’t it?”
“Agreed,” confirmed Urieline, “but you had better tie them on to me now. I can’t just pick them up. No hands.”
Kirsty laughed, a tight little laugh and proceeded to do as Urieline asked. There was plenty of a strange-textured rope in Aranel’s pack and Kirsty was eternally grateful in that moment for her sister’s foresight. She didn’t do at all badly, considering her lack of experience with knots, but took a little while to make sure that they were going to hold and wouldn’t rub. At last Urieline pronounced herself satisfied and nudged her in the shoulder.
“It is time,” she said. “Be careful. Don’t take any risks. If you don’t find her, return as soon as you are able.”
Kirsty nodded and turned away.
The unicorn watched Kirsty’s resolute figure as it began to walk in Ursulaine’s direction. The path wasn’t difficult to find. She just had to follow the bruised, grassy path and the broken off twigs that were the signature of travelling in the forest. Tracking couldn’t be that hard. Could it?
It proved to be considerably more difficult than she could ever have imagined, not at all like the tracking and following skills taught in the Girl Guides or Boy Scouts.
* * * * *
“Get down,” growled the Morityaro agent, “and you’ll be quick about it if you know what’s good for you.”
Aranel was quick, quick enough to even get away if there had only been the one black-clad agent standing beneath the tree. Unfortunately there were two, and another shadow standing watch a little distance away. As she jumped, sword in one hand and knife in the other, the first one stepped back with an evil grin on his face whilst the second jumped forwards arms outstretched and grabbed her, lifting her feet off the ground.
Legs flailing, she struggled but the second agent was large and strong, and only gripped her tighter, so tight that she thought she felt her ribs bend.
“So what have we got here?” the first one asked as he stepped forward and disarmed her, seeking out any hidden weapons.
His eyebrow rose as he located the other dagger in her belt and the stilettos in her boots. Then, lifting her head by pushing her chin up with his gloved hand, he looked at her face.
“So, who are you?” he asked. His voice was guttural and strangely devoid of accent or idiom.
Aranel said nothing.
The agent grunted and his hand tightened on her chin, pressing it cruelly.
“Who are you?” he repeated. “Tell me, little hunter, before I really begin to hurt you.” His fingers relaxed just enough for her to answer.
He thinks I am a hunter. I’d better make sure he continues to think so.
“Earwen,” Aranel muttered.
“From?” he prompted.
“Nevaduin. And you’d better let me go.”
“Now, let’s not be too hasty,” he replied. “I have a few questions that you will answer before I will even start to think about letting you go.”
“Questions like what?” muttered Aranel.
“Like, what you are doing here? Like, where you got this sword? Like, what your real name is? Like, why you say you come from Nevaduin, a very small place? I have never seen you there. Simple questions that require simple answers.”
“I am who I say I am,” retorted Aranel. “My name is Earwen. I am a hunter. I’ve been up here in the forest these sixteen days past. That’s why you never saw me in the village.”
“I see. And the sword.”
“Found it,” l
ied Aranel in a sullen voice. “No harm in taking something no one else wants, is there?”
“No harm at all,” said the agent in his accentless voice. “But I don’t believe you my little hunter. Let’s start again. What is your real name?”
The question was accompanied by a resounding slap across Aranel’s face.
“My name is Earwen.”
It wasn’t a slap that arrived next; it was a punch. The pain almost made Aranel pass out.
“My name is Earwen,” she insisted through the blood that had suddenly ballooned inside her mouth.
* * * * *
“Keep to the trees, the cover and keep low. Don’t show yourself on the top of the hill when you get there,” Ursulaine advised as Kirsty prepared to continue on her own. “If you see something, anything, come back and tell me. Don’t try to do anything on your own.”
“I won’t,” promised Kirsty who had no intention of doing any such thing. She stepped away from the warm, comforting bulk of the unicorn and, with a last nervous look back at where she stood almost invisible under the shadows of the trees, she began to move slowly like a black silhouette, in the direction of the bridge. Had she been more experienced in woodscraft she would have realised that someone had been treading the same path not long before her, but she hadn’t. So, hunched down and keeping within the tree shadow, she continued on in ignorance, never imagining what she would see when she peeped cautiously over the hill rise.
* * * * *
Kirsty sucked her breath in and her face blanched when she saw what was happening below.
There was Aranel and she was being held upright by a huge, dark, elf-shaped figure, her body sagging because her legs could no longer support her. A second dark, elf-shaped figure was repeatedly punching her in the body. These had to be the dreaded Morityaro.
The bridge was being watched by what could only be the enemy. Her sister had been captured and, Kirsty assumed, was being encouraged to tell them who she was and what she was doing there. Kirsty could only imagine the pain Aranel was suffering and her heart went out to her, but what could she possibly do? To leap out of the bushes and try to rescue her on her own would be impossible. She would only get herself captured and then where would they be? But she couldn’t just leave her.