Had Öron seen here right then, he would have been proud of her. Well, he probably wouldn’t have, but five arrows left her bow in quick succession, all hitting their targets, before the wolves realized what was happening and started to run. She managed to shoot another three while they were moving. Two disappeared in the growing dark. How many more were there? How many had she not noticed? How big was the pack? Night was falling fast and it was beginning to be difficult to see. She’d acted too late and that meant spending the night up a tree. Elena did not like the idea. However, being on the ground with an unspecified number of wolves sounded like an even worse idea. Tarnation! She was hungry. Her leg hurt and she was tired. Wolves. They were beautiful, majestic and astonishing creatures, but also very big, horrifying and eager to eat her. And they moved so quietly. She wished they would not. This was neither a good time nor place to remember Aaron and Philip and their joint adventures tracking wolves, the two of them teaching her how to tread lightly, move unseen through the forest. After all, it was not by chance that the Berber emblem bore a wild stallion and a wolf. It actually made her feel bad for shooting the beasts.
Wolves in a pack communicated. If she stayed in the tree, she would be safe, but for how long? How many bloodthirsty animals would be around the tree in the morning? How many would want to punish her for killing their cousins? How many more would she have to kill? Unlike her, they had all the time in the world to wait. Where was Michael when she needed him? Elena was scared. So far, she’d counted eight wolves, but how many had really been hiding in the night? It could have been quite a number.
Her night vision was good, but so was theirs’. Using fire would mean destroying not only their ability to see, but hers also. Wolves were afraid of fire, but so was the forest, it would attract the elves’ attention.
She was scared, tired, and her leg ached. Above her head, a thick branch formed a V with the tree trunk. Have you ever tried to sleep in a tree? Hell! To tie herself to the branch, she needed a rope, but she had none. Cutting up her blanket would be a solution, but the cover would be greatly missed later. Spending nights without a blanket would be a misery.
Elena shrugged and pulled her bedroll from the pack on her back. She cut up half of it into ten-centimeter strips and tied them together. Her supplies were far from adequate, consisting only of a little water and what she had for food … well, it was not much, but she ate and drank what she had. It was pitch black, which made scrambling up into her V branch a little difficult. For a moment, Elena considered the best sleeping position and settled for the one needing smallest amount of rope. It might not be the most comfortable option, but it had the least drawbacks to sleep with her back to the trunk, legs outstretched on the branch and tied to it. Hopefully, her limbs would not go absolutely numb till morning.
Under the tree, three silent shadows moved cautiously. Elena new they were there, hearing them from time to time. Fear slowly seeped into her, adding to cold and hunger. With that, she closed her eyes, aware that she needed sleep. Philip will love the story of her sleeping up in a tree. Suddenly, her eyes shot open again. Telling Philip meant going home, which she really wanted to. But that also meant encountering Ashka. The moment Mother found out Elena had run away from the elves, she would eat her alive and then send her back again! Bugrid!
Now Elena realized that no matter how homesick she was and no matter how much she wanted to go home, she could not. Her parents would be greatly disappointed with her. Bugrid! The word was contagious, but that was not what she was thinking about. Where would she turn to, if she couldn’t go home? Maybe they won’t send her back. Maybe she would be able to explain and maybe they would understand. Once more, she tried to settle down in a somewhat comfortable position. The more she thought about it, the surer she was that Mother would banish her again and the elves wouldn’t be happy either. Huge tears began to roll down her cheeks. Elena was scared, tired, her leg hurt, she was hungry, thirsty and cold. And she couldn’t go home. She cried herself to sleep.
When Elena woke up, it felt like she had hardly slept, but dawn was breaking, so she must have had. All her muscles were numb. Really, she was stiff. Her almost lifeless hands had a bark pattern on the palms, where she was touching the wood. She had to flex them and massage some life into them, before she could untie herself without using a knife. Her legs weren’t any better and she had to perform quite a complicated exercise in the treetop.
Seeing the dark outlines of the dead wolves made her sigh. Their living relatives were nowhere in sight. However, she was sure they were still present, she could sense them. Meticulously she packed all her things into a tight little pack and slung it over her back next to the quiver. Climbing to the lowest branch, Elena crouched on it for a while, her hands between her feet, waiting. Nothing happened. Absolutely nothing. Not even a bird cheeped. The wolves waited in ambush, while their pray sat in a tree, trying to figure out what to do next.
Leaping off the branch, she landed in a crouch. A strung bow in her right, she touched the ground with her left. With a quiet apology on her lips, she caressed the stiff neck of the closest wolf and pulled the arrow out. Repeating the same ritual with all the others, she gathered all her ammunition. One was broken, as the wolf had rolled over it, but she took it anyway, not wanting to draw unnecessary attention to herself. Besides, it might be useful. Alert, she kept watching her surroundings. Why didn’t the wolves attack? It surprised and frightened her. She wanted to have it over with. Regardless of the outcome, she wanted the encounter to be over.
Still, the wolves did not attack. The only tactic that seemed somewhat safe was to run from tree to tree. So she ran, her bow poised at the ready. Finally, they appeared at a moment when all the trees were far out of reach. Three beasts, who seemed to appear out of nowhere. In a split second she was surrounded by extremely fast moving bodies. A twang of bowstring. An arrow hitting its target. The wolf ran a few more steps, before its body realized its heart had stopped. Elena had to turn to shoot at another animal, but was too slow. Wounded, but not dead, the attacking predator was almost on her. She managed to duck. His teeth missed her by a hair, but his entire bulk landed on her, knocking her down. The bow flew out of her hand as they tumbled over in a bundle of legs, hands, fur and fangs. Managing to free herself, she rolled and scrambled up, reaching for her sword, pulling it from the scabbard even before she had fully straightened up. Her blood came alive. Fear fused with rage and exploded.
The wolves were too close, there was no escape. Growling, with fangs bared, the wounded animal attacked again. In mid-jump, he realized his pray had changed. Suddenly he was staring into the eyes of a furious dragon. A sword hissed through the air. Elena took a step forward and crouched so fast, the wolf had no time to react. His leap ended in a hard tumbling fall. Elena had slashed his belly with a sword raised above her head. Hot blood poured over her hands and arms. Pulling the blade out, she pirouetted from a crouch into an upright position and swung the weapon again. It hit the second attacker directly under its jaw. In one smooth motion, she turned and struck the third wolf in the shoulder. The animal yelped. For a short moment, the two bleeding beasts withdrew, circling around her. Holding her sword in both hands, Elena was twisting back and forth to keep them both in view. It was difficult. One of the animals kept slipping behind her back. They were furious, snarling at her with bared teeth.
Two huge wolves circling around a girl so small she could hardly see over their backs. Gradually, the predators drew nearer. Suddenly they stopped, taken aback by the sound escaping Elena’s throat. It was a growl, a deep wild growl that surprised even her. Instead of a small girl, a wild creature with dragon eyes, growling fiercer then themselves, appeared in their midst. Then the growling grew into a guttural raging roar. The canine with the wounded shoulder stopped and looked Elena directly in the eye, snarling at her. She snarled back with fire in her eyes, half-crouched with her sword raised, ready to leap, ready to attack.
Suddenly, the fangs disappeared. The wo
lf tossed his head, turned, and limped away disappearing in the trees. His companion followed. Surprised, Elena stood, still poised for action. Slowly, she turned several times, awaiting an ambush, but none came. Both wolves were gone. Feeling, as if all her bones were broken, she sagged to one knee. Her entire body ached, most of all, her torn shoulder. She was covered with blood, both from the animals and her own.
It took quite some time for the adrenalin to subside, and for her to realize she was safe. For now, at least. Which did not change the fact that she still had no clue what had just happened. First, she picked up the few arrows spilled from her quiver, then she treated her wounds. Once again, she started to run, moving a lot slower than usual. Her shoulder and leg ached badly, even though she had healed them.
Shortly after noon, Elena found a wider creek. She drank and filled her bottle with icy water. After a moment of thought, she undressed, took a bath and washed her bloody clothes. For a minute she contemplated moving on, hoping her outfit would dry on her, but then she caught two fish and decided food and rest would do her good. With care, she built a fire under the trees, so smoke would disperse through the leaves. She draped the remainder of her blanket around herself and hung her wet garments on a nearby bush to dry. After cleaning the fish, she wrapped them in big leaves and buried them into hot ashes under the fire. While they were cooking, she went to catch a few more. Lianas were hanging on a tree close by. She climbed as high as possible to cut the longest pieces possible. Carefully untangling them from the branches, she practically cleared two trees of them. Settled by the fire, she began to twine a rope and a few shorter cords. She even risked a tiny fire into the night to have light for her work. Her creations were far from perfect, but they would do. Too bad she didn’t think of something like that sooner, she could have had a whole blanket for the night.
Finally, Elena had some food supply, dry clothes, had time to have a rest and most of all, make plans and things began to look a bit better. The realization that she could not return home had changed everything.
At night she was she was indeed glad for her clothes to be dry. Had she slept in a wet outfit under only that little piece of blanket, she would have been really cold. This way, she was only chilly, sleeping literarily curled up to fit under her tiny blanket and coat.
◆◆◆
Elena crouched by one of the tree trunks and surveyed the forest in front of her. Despite running for several hours at once, she was not out of breath. Her running skills improved with each step, each step awakening more of her elven heritage, her training kicking in. She narrowed her eyes. Something was wrong. In this part of the forest, the trees were standing very close to each other. Their tops were not only touching, they were thickly interlocked, their branches tangled. The bottom branches were so low a rider would have to dismount. Even though the noon sun was high, twilight spread under the trees. A path appeared, winding invitingly between the bushes, disappearing and appearing again. Elena was suspicious of it. Far too well she remembered the tales about this place. Even if this were the narrowest spot of the Black Wood, it would take long hours to pass through it.
This, however, was definitely not the right spot. The path was quite strange and lacked a magical sign at its beginning. To be honest, there were no magical signs here whatsoever. Elena turned to look back. Still, she could see a few trees that looked relatively normal. And something was moving in the gloom in front of her. She drew a deep breath and smelled a faint whiff of greasy, dirty hair. Silently, she pulled her sword out and waited. Suspecting the movement more than really sensing it, she registered the animal circling for a while, before it retreated into the Black Wood. It was past noon and going inside the Wood at such a late hour was far from smart, even if this was the right path. There was not enough time to get to the other side by daylight and traveling through the Black Wood at night meant certain death. Elena closed her eyes to listen. There was only silence, a queer silence.
Curious, she grabbed a rock and threw it onto the path. The stone hit it with a strange dull plonk. Unexpectedly, it did not bounce, sitting there for a few seconds and then slowly, began to welter into the ground. Fascinated, Elena watched it disappear. Moving sand. She frowned and slowly stood up. Looking around to make sure no one was watching her; she retreated to where sun was peering through the trees.
Though she longed to have the trip through the Black Wood over and done with, she dared not risk taking the wrong trail. Wandering paths, Failon had called them. She would have to find the one that was relatively safe, with fewer traps. Nevertheless, the time loss was a good price for a higher chance of survival, because the wondering paths were murderous.
Nine days had passed since she left the domicile of the elves. Even though her pursuers were on horseback and she was running, she had managed to keep her lead. So far, Michael had not caught up with her. She’d planned to meet up with him before entering the Wood. Long ago, she’d given up her hope that the little brown men in hobnailed boots would succeed in their mission and in finding her again with Ashkent and all her stuff. It would have been a bonus to at least have her horse.
Still, she had to be careful. The edge of the Wood was treacherous; Elena knew she dared not underestimate the situation. What worried her most was that she could easily miss the path she was looking for. Should that happen, the elves would be closing in. Running slowly, she watched the trees carefully.
◆◆◆
Branches cracked and broke; a horse emerged from a bush. An observant onlooker would have been surprised by the fact that despite its considerable speed, the steed was not moving its legs. They were rigidly fixed. Something was moving frantically under his hooves. For the first time in his life, he was sick to his stomach. Behind him, on several pairs of tiny legs ran a saddle. In short distance behind the saddle followed an untidy package with all sorts of stuff sticking out of it.
Finally, they stopped. Ashkent bent his head down sharply, rolled his eyes and barred his teeth at Willie. From Willie’s point of view, the horse looked very dangerous. The brownies took a few unwilling steps backward, dropping the steed onto his hooves.
“What gawp ya’?” barked Willie, offended. Ashkent snorted. He’d had enough of this! For a moment the horse stared at Willie with his huge smart eyes and shot his lips. When he stomped his hoof a few times, Willie began to sweat. The Othar, standing by the horse’s legs, scattered. At what they considered a safe distance, they gathered into a huddle and began arguing.
It wouldn’t be correct to say Ashkent was using telepathy, even though Elena would say he was. The Berber believe that after death, the souls of Berber warriors returned as wild horses, the Berber war horses. This belief is more than substantiated by the fact that the Berber war horses are very intelligent and tend to be extremely good companions in battle. This is so largely because they are quite capable of thinking for themselves, and display unusual knowledge of strategy. Most of all, they communicate. Not that they talked or used telepathy, you just sort of knew what they wanted to tell you. The only hitch was that you had to admit that a horse was actually telling you something. And we all know horses don’t talk, right?!
Ashkent was furious. After he snatched at Willie with his teeth and almost crushed several other Othar with his hooves, everybody under twelve centimeters decided it would be better to acknowledge that this horse does speak, and that he does not like to move through the forest on unmoving stiff legs. The big people use that bugrid weird thing with them long ends. But that bugrid weird thing with them long ends belongs into the horse’s mug and how exactly do you want to stick it in there, when the forsaken horse is so bugrid big? By the way, where is that bugrid thing with them long ends? If you don’t have it, how do you want to stuff his trap with it? See the teeth? How exactly do you want to maneuver him? Bugrid!
Approximately such would be the translation of the whispered communication going on in the vicinity of Ashkent’s hooves. Willie was not happy about it, when he was pushed out of the
group to tell Ashkent to follow him or go chase himself. Satisfied with the result, Ashkent tossed his head, snorted, and followed the sprites happily. Both saddle and packet stood up and trailed after him.
Willie halted. The closer they got to the Black Wood, the harder it was to find Elena’s tracks. They seemed to lose their orientation in the vicinity of this forest. The Black Wood always did that to Othar. It was a reliable signal jammer. Willie halted, but Ashkent didn’t seem to notice and rushed over him and the other Othar. They hardly had time to get from under his feet. All Ashkent needed, was his nose. Or maybe he sensed Elena with his heart rather than with his velvet nostrils. Othar who had tumbled over to avoided Ashkent’s hooves, scrambled up and ran after him yelling at each other, saddle and bundle bouncing over the roots.
◆◆◆
Still running, Elena turned. Something was happening. Someone was following her. Sharply, she changed direction. In a split second, she pressed against a tree trunk and vanished. Almost a minute later hoof-beats sounded. It was a quiet, muffled sound. And were her ears playing tricks on her, or did she hear angry bickering? Ashkent surfaced from the deepening darkness, running without a saddle or a bit, his mane billowing wildly behind him. He radiated happiness. Elena could feel it surrounding him like a shining aura. She jumped off the lowest tree branch onto which she had swung earlier.
The Witch (Dragon Eyes Book 1) Page 20