◆◆◆
Wilbur had repeatedly tried to contact him. Only when the dragon’s shadow crossed their path, did Michael answer him. He was not sure if the dragon could be trusted and refused to tell him anything. Not that he had much to tell, anyway.
The elves were used to the forest communicating with them. Now, however, the woods were silent and pointedly minded their own business. Under his blanket, Michael entwined his fingers around a medallion Elena had given him, and closed his eyes, concentrating. If Elena was too far away from him this was not going to work. How well had she taught him? He was sure to find out soon.
◆◆◆
It would have been much easier had they not both tried to talk to her at the same time. She trusted Wilbur’s friendship, but she suspected he simply had a different view of the matter. She could not be sure he would not give her up to the elves, for her own safety, perhaps. Michael was different. Not only his friendship, but also his loyalty could be trusted. On the other hand, it was doubtful if he would be able to get away from the elves without being noticed, without leading them to her. Huddled under her blanket she touched the gem in the hilt of her sword and searched for the thin thread of Michael’s thoughts. He was almost too far away.
Enormously relieved, Michael noticed the slight touch of her mind, and opened his thoughts to her. She was alive. Not that he ever doubted it, but it was a relief to be sure. Telepathy was awesome!
“Are ya’ all right?” Michael fired immediately.
“Aye, but I will not go back,” she informed him as fast.
“Got that. How will I find ya’?” For a moment, there was silence.
“Eli, I don’t want to take ya’ back. I swore; remember? I want to protect ya’ and I can’t do that, when I’m not with ya’.” He could never understand how an emotion or even an expression could be transferred by telepathy. He could have sworn Elena smiled. Also, he realized she was very tired. The considerable distance between them and the need to concentrate on talking to him made it hard to open only a part of her mind to him. Her whole body hurt and Michael could feel it. She knew he feared for her and was glad that he restrained himself from any kind of lecturing.
“I have everything I need,” she tried to reassure him. It didn’t help much.
“Will ya’ tell me where ya’ are?” After a brief pause, she told him which way she was headed. Michael was to get away from the elves as soon as possible. And they decided it was safer for Elena to find him.
Suddenly, Michael asked: “Can we trust Wilbur?” and was answered with a long silence.
“I’m not sure. I’m afraid he will see things differently, and I don’t want to go back.”
“And ya’re scared ya’ll lose him,” Michael commented and immediately regretted it. No use of reminding her and making her feel even worse. He bit his lip. “Just tell me what to say to him,” he added quickly.
“Don’t tell him where I am. Sorry, that’s stating the obvious. Tell him, I don’t want to go back, that they are nasty to me, that I don’t want to be a dark magician, they will make me one if they make me use what’s inside me, and I’m scared, I don’t want them to force me to blow something up and I don’t want everyone to be scared of me,” poured out of her at such a speed he could hardly follow. Had she spoken aloud, she would've spat it all out in one breath.
“And tell him, I love him, and I don’t want to lose him, but I’ll never go back.” Then, there was silence. She was tired and sleepy. “Michael, be careful. Provoking the elves is no laughing matter. Wilbur is not the only one whom I would miss badly,” she blurted out suddenly. He smiled.
“Eli …”
“Good night and be careful!” said she quickly and withdrew from his mind.
“Good night, Eli,” he murmured to himself. Well, he wanted to ask her about the saddle. Next time, then.
Wilbur glided above them, searching the forest ahead. The little girl meant a lot to him. Every youngling must leave the nest and this seemed to be the right time for Elena. He was thinking about what Michael had said that a dragon was easier found than a little girl was. Wilbur tried to explain that a dragon was very good at hiding, probably lot better than a small child, no matter how capable.
“Even when other dragons would be looking for you?” the boy replied and Wilbur could not answer him. It was not a good idea to oppose Ashrack, he knew, but dragons were free beings. There must be a solution to this situation, they just had to find it.
◆◆◆
The morning after her escape, a kick in the forehead woke her up. She sat up so quickly, she hit her head on the bottom branch of the tree she’d curled up underneath to sleep.
“Ouch!” yelped Elena, trying to untangle herself from a blanket coiled around her as tight as a python.
“Up, Gammer!” someone screamed into her ear from a branch by her head and someone else kicked her shin. She was utterly surrounded by manikins.
“Up, Gammer, go, go, go!” Before Elena could even react, the weapons she had by her hand, vanished. She saw them move and disappear under a bush. Was it possible they were escaping on a few pairs of hobnailed boots? Someone kicked her again and the pygmies scattered.
Elena grabbed her blanket and swung up the branch she’s hit her head on earlier. With unbelievable speed and agility, she climbed up into the crown of the tree, as high as she dared, as high as the branches seemed to be able to hold her. Nestling to the trunk, she desperately wished to be invisible.
It was the eightth hour. Very silently, an elf on horseback emerged from the trees. It was Öron and he was looking for tracks. Elena pressed even tighter to the tree trunk, shifting a few millimeters sideways, so the trunk would cover her as much as possible. Her eyes narrowed to tiny slits, looking slightly beside the rider, just to keep him in view, not looking at him directly so he would not register her gaze. She prayed to be invisible. Her hand gripping the hilt of her sword tight, though she hoped she would not need to use it. Öron was, after all, her uncle. But she refused to go back! Öron lifted his head to look into her tree. He was bound to see her any second. Elena held her breath.
He thought he noticed a few prints at the foot of a tree. It was a mere hint of prints that did not seem to go anywhere, so he looked up. Methodically he searched every branch, every centimeter of the trunk, and saw nothing. Bending down again, he began to search on.
Elena would have sworn he was looking straight at her. Why did he not do anything? For a long time, she stood motionless; clinging to the trunk, waiting to make sure no other riders would appear. The bark under her fingers began to shake. Elena looked down. Brownies were running up the trunk.
They sat about everywhere around her. She watched them, surprised. Finally, she had a chance to examine them closely. They were all ten to twelve centimeters tall, clad in clothes made of fine leather. Since some of them had long naked tails hanging from their belts, it was clear which animals’ hide they were wearing. Everything looked quite practical, but the little tailors definitely didn't bother with anything so needless as style or elegance. As long as it all held together…
Aside from the rat-tails, the pygmies had short swords by their side. Short? Well, from Elena’s point of view, they were short, but from the view of their ten centimeter high owners, they were huge, two-handed weapons, reaching all the way to their owners’ ankles. Some of the pygmies had war axes or bows with tiny arrows resembling splinters with feathers. All of them had hobnailed boots that looked far too big on them. And they were all absolutely bald, even though some wore thick beards or mustaches.
“Hey, Gammer, be gone,” squeaked the one sitting on a branch right in front of her face. Wide-eyed, she looked at him. She would have sat on the branch she was standing on, but it was full of manikins, who were watching her intently. Now and then, somebody pulled at her trouser-leg.
She spent some time thinking about what it was the pygmy wanted to say. And then some more time pondering what she should answer.
&nb
sp; Finally, she settled on a thank you and massaged the bump growing on her forehead. It had a boot shaped bruise in the middle.
“What gawp ya’, Gammer?” shouted another brownie. He looked like their leader, although she had no clue why, well, he simply looked like one.
“Om?” What gawp ya’? What is that supposed to mean? What is he asking? Was he asking what is happening, what is going to happen, or who she is? She decided the best approach would be answering all three.
“I am Elena of the Berber. My parents sent me to the elves to learn. But they make me do things I don’t want to do and I am running away from them. And I have to get as far and as fast as I can.” Why is she telling them, anyway? Standing on the branch was not at all comfortable and she was still very tired.
“Who are you?” she asked, thinking about what they could have done with her weapons. True, she had her sword and her throwing knives, but bow and arrows could get really handy. Not that she would like to say goodbye to her trakesh, either.
The little men began arguing loudly. It worried her that the elves might hear them and come back.
“Hush! Be quiet!” To her surprise, they all went silent. The one that looked like their leader cleared his throat and beamed.
“Be Othar!” Elena frowned. Othar was an elvish word and it meant warriors. This time, she understood perfectly. Not only did she understand, but she also knew, what exactly she should do. She dropped her right foot behind the branch and propped her instep against the bark, so she would not lose balance. With the same precaution in mind, she left one hand on the tree-trunk and bowed deeply.
“Hail, Othar!” she greeted them with respect.
In reply, they all bowed their heads.
“And who are you?” Elena dared to ask the speaker.
“Be Willie, Gammer,” the manikin replied reluctantly.
Elena nodded. A great warrior called Willie. She had a hard time not to smile. That would not be good manners and Willie looked very proud.
“Thank you very much for your help. Would you be so kind and return my weapons?” There were so many things she wanted to ask and wanted to find out about the pygmies, but there was no time. She had to move on, and quick. The tiny captain pointed to the ground. She thanked him with a nod.
“I must go. I have very little time. The elves are fast and they know the forest well. I have to hurry, if I want to escape.”
“Be on them horsees.”
OK, this, she too understood. She shrugged. “Yes, the more I should hurry. I had to leave all my things and my horse Ashkent in town. I can’t go back to get them.”
“Things what?”
Elena wished she could understand him better. “Things I need. Clothes, weapons, some of Failon’s books, my saddle, and most of all, my horse Ashkent. I’ll miss him.”
Loud whispering argument broke up between the bald warriors. Eager to move on, but with care, she shifted her weight from one foot to the other. A long journey awaited her. The little men were rather cute, but she must not let that stop her. She tried to figure out a way to tell them without causing offense. Finally, they seemed to have agreed on something and pushed Willie forward.
“Bring!” he squeaked at her.
Elena shook her head. “I can’t go back there, they might catch me.”
“Aye! Nay! Say, Othar bring.”
She squatted down to see him better. He was not happy about it, bud did not move.
“Why are you helping me?” asked the girl, surprised, but immediately regretted it, because it caused another long and loud council and a lot of yelling. Willie didn’t seem to be a leader as such, but more of a speaker. He seemed to be just conveying their decisions. If they agreed on something, that is.
“Say, Gammer, we bring,” Willie repeated. Elena shrugged. Maybe it was simpler not to ponder over certain things. Carefully, she described what she wanted them to bring and where to find it. Depicting what Ashkent looked like, was the hardest task. For some odd reason she could not imagine what he looked like from below. Calling him, however, should suffice, she told Willie.
“Tell him, I sent you.” And then suddenly, as if shooting into a flock of birds, the Othar were gone.
“Om!” Elena shrugged her shoulders, sat down on the branch and folded her blanket into a neat bundle. With the agility of a squirrel and grace of an athlete, she climbed back down to the ground, landing lightly on half bent legs. In a bush, she found her bow, quiver with arrows, and trakesh. Silently, she disappeared into the trees. It was doubtful that the Othar would be able to find her, but she could not be waiting for them.
◆◆◆
Had anyone been listening, they would have heard a whispered argument. However, nobody was listening. Something moved through the room so fast, an unsuspecting observer would have hardly noticed. Hangers rattled in the wardrobe, suddenly, shirts and trousers were gone. One moment, a bunch of neatly stacked weapons was standing in a corner, and the next, none were there, leaving behind only a few specks of slowly settling dust. A quiet thud sounded from a shelf, where a book fell into a gap previously occupied by another volume. A wooden box disappeared from its hiding place. Cupboards in the kitchen flew open, as if struck by an invisible tornado, and some of the food stored in them vanished. Everything was gone long before the hangers in the wardrobe had stopped swaying.
Ashkent bent his head almost to the ground. For a moment, with one eye, then the other he glared at the pygmy jumping in front of his nose. He snorted and tossed his head. The corral gate opened on its own accord. Surprised, Ashkent looked beneath his legs. The neigh he let out sounded more like a yelp. Something gripped his hooves and lifted him bodily in the air. Had the guards been watching, they would have seen him moving at breakneck speed on motionless, stiff legs. Under each of his hooves was a scramble of little hobnailed boots moving so fast, they were all a blur.
Arguing and swearing sounded from the saddlery. Tiny figures were running along the saddle benches, shouting at each other. Every other word was bugrid. When the arguing finally stopped, a saddle disappeared from the bench closest to the door.
◆◆◆
Things had a way of complicating themselves. The forest was swarming with elves. Elena would have been happy to hide and wait for Michael, but that was bound to get her caught. She proceeded as fast as possible, using her growing lead well, but in the forest, elves were like fish in water. Unfortunately for them, Elena was a good student and was using not only their own tricks, but also a lot of Berber ones. Besides that, the forest was actually helping her.
She could have run faster, but trying to cover her tracks and being as invisible as possible was just as important. All that and keeping track of her surroundings were slowing her down. It was, however, better than running headlong into trouble. Somebody was following her. No, something was following her. She’d had that uncomfortable feeling for quite some time so she speeded up. The hair on the back of her neck stood up. The creature tracking her was definitely an animal. She looked back. A gray shadow flashed through the trees. And then another one. From the corner of her eye, she glimpsed a third one to the right. Wolves! And it was getting dark. How many were there? Wolves hunted in packs. She could feel them enclosing a circle around their prey, around her. A silent, quick moving loop of gray bodies was tightening around her. Should she run on? Could she get away? Or should she stop and defend herself? They were closing in.
The wolves were so close she could see their shadows between the trees, but there were none to her left. However, Elena knew it was a trick. Just in time, she turned her head to see an animal emerging from a bush. It pushed off the ground in an elegant lunge, fangs bared. A bowstring twanged. In the middle of his leap, the wolf twisted, wounded in its left loin beneath the neck. Elena changed direction. She slung the bow over her back and darted to the closest tree. She jumped. The bottom branch was too high, but she kicked off the trunk about a meter above the ground and managed to grab the branch. Teeth caught her calf, b
ut her running and the leap had given her the momentum to swing up out of the wolf’s reach. She vaulted into a squat on the bottom branch and leaped off it again immediately, scrambling two layers higher. There, she sat heavily with her back to the trunk. The bow she had on her back made it a bit difficult. Luckily, the branch she sat on was quite thick.
Elena looked down. Seven wolves were circling the tree, some jumping, trying to climb up the trunk. When standing on their hind legs, they were taller than the little princess. They smelled blood. Her blood. To protect it from damage, she shifted the bow, settling in a more comfortable and better balanced position. She looked at her injured leg. It hurt like hell. A ragged trouser leg revealed a torn limb. The gash was deep and bleeding heavily. Even her boot was ripped, and filling up with blood. Elena ripped off the bottom of the pant leg and pulled down her boot just enough to reveal the whole wound, wiping it with the torn fabric. Damn! Her heart was beating fast, her breath laborious. Elena tried to straighten her thoughts, since it was hard to concentrate on healing her calf, but when she had finished, only several rough, reddish scars remained of the wound. They would heal in time, for sure. However, the leg still hurt and its muscles were twitching slightly. It was going to be difficult to run with. If she managed to get of the tree, that is. Healing somebody else drained your energy, but healing yourself was exhausting. And dealing with the wolves could not be postponed for ever. There were ten of them now. And they were furious. Gods!
She’d managed to get away from them for the moment, but now what? Spending the night up a tree did not seem like a very good idea. It was unlikely the wolves would be willing to leave any time soon. For now, she was out of their reach, but they all knew she would have to come down sooner or later. The pack would be waiting for her. Maybe they’d even call reinforcements. Flying away was somehow not an option, because fly she could not. Acting fast was essential, since it was getting dark. She was going to have to make a choice between magic and weapons. Killing with a spell was a repellant idea, besides she’d never done it before. However, she would need her arrows to hunt, since nothing killed by magic was edible. Think! Quick, it’s getting dark! You won’t be able to see a thing! Come on, think! If her shots were absolutely accurate, she could pick her arrows up afterwards. But that was … She shifted into a steadier position. Bow and arrows simply seemed like a better idea. Maybe she will have chance to retrieve her shafts or make new ones.
The Witch (Dragon Eyes Book 1) Page 19