BatriusDreamweaver
11-28-2005, 03:11 AM
The night was black; clouds covered all stars and hid the moon from view. The streets were illuminated only in small cones of flickering torchlight. Pools of rainwater lingered after the recent rain, clouded by the mud and dirt from daytime travelers. Alleys crisscrossed the narrow streets, making the heart of the city a maze where, if you were not careful to watch your back and your mouth, you would find a dagger between your shoulders.
This night, three men were walking together, hands on their sword hilts, apparently casual. They were talking in low voices, pointing at an alley some two blocks ahead, nodding. The man walking in the center was shorter than the other two, who were tall and thick, and seemed to be slightly nervous, if the twitch of his eye was any indication.
The shadows stirred in the alley and a lone figure waved the three others to hurry. When the figures met, one of the three, and the lone figure from the alley seemed to have a hurried conversation while the other two looked around. A coin purse was passed from the hand of the short, nervous man to the shadowy figure.
As the trio left the solitary figure standing, counting his money, a fifth form crouched behind a gargoyle on a balcony overhead, his bow drawn. He pulled back and released in one smooth motion, his arrow taking the money counter in the upper left hand side of his chest. There was no scream, no gurgle of last second life. A clean kill.
The man from the balcony jumped to the street and moved swiftly to his fallen prey. The recently gifted coin purse was retrieved and placed into its new owner’s belt.
The thief smiled, “I told you so.” And with those words, he disappeared into the shadows of the night.
The pierced body lay in the alley, blood flowing slowly out onto the paving stones when the hounds arrived. They always sensed a fresh carcass. No sound, no light, and the body was carried away into the deeper regions of the city.
The sun dawned on a normal day in the city, casting morning light to reflect off the rain water. Smoke began rising from chimneys of those awake, and merchants began setting up carts for the day, hoping as always for more income than the day before. The closer to the back of the city a person walked, the less merchant stands and hawkers there were, and the more silk shops and fine china huts lined the streets. The city was built so that its back was to the crevice of an enormous cliff on the north and west sides, and an ocean to the east. The castle was nestled in among the face of the cliff, and was made of bricks of the same reddish stone as the canyon walls. It was built completely symmetrical side to side, the cities earlier rulers had been very strict about order in the city, but over the years, side streets and back alleys had been added, making the shops around the castle a bit difficult to find if you were new to the city. For the most part, the castle was off limits to all commoners, due to high suspicion of the king that everyone was out to get him of late. There was one area that was not restricted, however.
Shelves upon shelves of dusty volumes lined the walls of the royal library in the castle. Thadius moved quietly, searching for any information on the guild known as ‘The Truth’. He skimmed one book after another, barely reading anything that wasn’t related to “Conspiracies of the Times” or “What Lurks in the Shadows: A Guide to Alumni Guilds in Andremyn.” Nothing, A book here about how to properly skin a deer, or how to mend a tunic or string a bow. Thadius laughed at the latter. Only nobles and merchants could read for the most part, and he was willing to bet that none of them have ever held a bow, much less strung one.
As he rubbed the sleep from his eyes and put his latest failure back on the shelf, a scratchy voice whispered in his ear.
“Snoop, you may. Find, you shall not. The volumes you seek are long forgot.”
He whipped around to face the withered librarian, who was looking at him with a serious expression, over the top of his spectacles.
“What business of yours is it to tell me that I will fail? Do not criticize and then not offer assistance. Do you know of what I am looking for?” Thadius spat the whisper at the shorter man.
“I may, I may not. It’s not worth the price to be caught. Follow the raven.” That last was a barely audible whisper, accompanied by a furtive glance over his shoulder. With that, the old man turned and walked quite briskly, for an old man, away, humming.
Thadius stood there, struck a bit off-footed by the somewhat strange comment. He remained in the library, chasing his, now it seemed to be, false hope. When the clock tower chimed high watch, he scratched his now stubbly chin and rubbed his blue eyes, which ached from the search through poorly copied down books. With a sigh, he set his last book on the shelf and started out of the library. Within twenty steps of the exit, the old librarian was in his way, muttering, “Follow the raven.” And then was gone.
Thadius stepped into the bright light, quite a contrast to the dusty dark library, shielding his eyes until they had adjusted.
“Bloody heat.” Thadius cursed as he pulled a long strip of white cloth to tie around his temples to keep his black hair out of his face.
He wore a dark look to match his dark clothes as he walked down the crowded streets. There were commoners among the merchants crowding the street, pushing back and forth with no regard for who they bumped into, unless the person looked a noble.
He saw such a person ahead in the crowd, walking against the stream, bumping into people as he went. Thadius smiled to himself. The man was only bumping into people who were wearing silk. As Thadius neared, he weaved into the man’s path and bumped into him, just after he had run headlong into a merchant in bright red silk.
Thadius grabbed the man’s shoulders and spun him around, drawing his knife and pressing it to his throat.
He shouted down the street, “Merchants, Nobles. I believe we have a pickpocket in our midst.”
The thief was writhing in his grasp, a look of unparalleled horror on his face, and low mutterings of terror escaped his lips.
Thadius tore open the man’s coat and revealed the many straps and now full coin pouches around the man’s scrawny frame.
A circle of onlookers had gathered at the commotion and many of them were checking their belts and coats for their coin pouches.
Thadius began removing all of the money bags and tossing them to the now outraged looking merchants.
Shouts of “Kill him!” and “Noose! Noose!” filled the air, and several people actually tried to grab the man away from Thadius.
He just shook his head and removed the thief’s own pouch and dispensed the coins to the crown, “That should be sufficient punishment.”
He proceeded down the street without a backward glance, hauling the man bodily behind him. Several turns were made, to make sure none had followed, and he shoved the man into the nearest inn, The Dancing Donkey. They entered quickly, but quietly, into a typical common room. Polished dark wood tables and chairs with silver gilded candle holders stood around the room in clusters. On the far side of the large rectangular room was an elaborate mantle and fireplace, where a flame haired woman played the harp and sang to a rather large midday crowd.
It was a fairly large crowd, for midday, but it was still fairly empty, the sun hadn’t fallen yet, but there were enough people in the room that Thadius ordered his food sparse and his drink shallow. His companion removed his coat and all of his straps, handing them to Thadius.
“Yeh could be a bit more gentle with yer handlin’ o’ me. I aint a sack of rice to be tossed about!” His green eyes were slightly narrowed.
“You were pushing your luck, or did you not notice who you ran into? Daim Ta’fere.”
“Oh I did, but only after I had. I did wonder why his purse was so fat, but I can’t exactly give it back to him can I?” A grin split the man’s lips.
“Well we shouldn’t be seen together, I don’t exactly look reputable, and I’m sure some of your friends will be looking for you.” Thadius turned and left the inn after placing his friend’s cut on the chair next to him. “Until tomorrow, Jon”
Thadius’ home was in the section of the town by the dock, in the foreman’s room of an abandoned warehouse. He slipped in the back door and climbed the ladder to his room, and stepping carefully on the floor, carefully because it was littered with broken weapons, clothes, and food, made his way to the makeshift bed in the corner.
“Home sweet home.” He sounded sincere as he picked through the clothes, looking for some bread.
He ate slowly, lying on his pallet of wood and ragged blankets, staring at the ceiling. When he had finished, he stood and took the two steps to cross the room and rummaged through his battered chest. He removed a rather large sack from the bottom of the chest and opened the mouth of it wide.
“I’ve brought you all friends.” He smiled and emptied the days fetch into the bag of similar objects; rings, coins, bracelets and necklaces nearly half filled the bag.
Thadius spent the rest of the afternoon sharpening his sword and twin daggers, and fashioning arrows. He unstrung his bow and waxed the string, then after propping them both in the corner, returned to his bed. He didn’t bother lighting a lamp when the sun began to set; he just lay down and slept, waiting for his early morning arrival to start his routine over again.
The moon was clear in the sky tonight, the previously hanging clouds had dispersed, allowing light to radiate into the city. Thadius woke early as always, before most sensible people had, during the time when the dishonest made their transactions with each other in the poor parts of town. He strung his bow and armed himself as usual, creeping onto his own rooftop to perch and repeat his inevitable life once again.
The elf stood alone in the corner of the grubby tavern, watching, and waiting. He watched many people come in, but not the one person he wanted to see, he would come, he would come. The smell of smoke filled his nostrils and he wrinkled his nose. Why do they ruin themselves with that? He thought.
Deciding the smoke was too much for him, the elf walked outside as he pulled out his whittling knife and a small rounded shaft of wood from a pouch on his leather belt. He let his weight fall as he sat down, working in silence, and shaving away bits of the wood.
The elf’s ears pricked, a horse had whinnied in the distance. He listened for a few minutes but went back to work; ears alert for sound of anything.
He put his whittling knife down and pulled out a longer thinner knife and began to hollow out the shaft he had carved. Once this was complete, he pulled out the whittling knife again and made several small holes along the top of the shaft and one larger hold toward the left end of the instrument. He meticulously smoothed over the whole shaft with the knife and started making designs and words in Eltharin across the flute. The elf looked up only after he had completed the instrument about 2 hours later. He blew into it and played a small tune that he remembered, but couldn’t recall from where. He leaned back against the wall of the tavern and looked up into the vast dark expanse of the starry sky, his eyes half closed, but his ears still listening for the slightest sound of an unusual noise.
A faint glow appeared on the horizon. The sun rose slowly behind a thick blanket of mist and the forest that stood a mere hundred yards from the pub. A sliver of light fell upon the elf’s boots and a few minutes later it reached his face. He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to block the light, reaching his hand up to shield his eyes; his eyelids weren’t doing the job.
The elf, in the light, could be seen now. He had dark brown hair and sharp blue eyes, like the sky before the sun starts to sink into the distance. He was fairly short for his race but he stood taller than the average human. He had a finely chiseled face, but a thin scar ran from his upper left forehead down across his nose and along his right cheek, he also had a pointed nose and ears. He was clad in but studded leather armor, and a pointed hat. Several pouches and packs were along his belt and a strap across his chest held a leather backpack underneath his tanned leather cloak. Another strap that held a quiver of arrows ran crossways to the first strap. A sword was sheathed at his side and his long bow was secured at his other hip. A long thin tube also attached to a strap contained a 6-foot long oak staff with an emerald set into the top. His hair, which he had tied back into a ponytail, fluttered slightly with the morning breeze and the scent of flowers reached his nose. The person he had been waiting for had not arrived, he surely would not have come and simply left the elf lying there.
The elf walked around to the back of the pub and climbed the stables to where his pegasus Lunashia slept in the early hours of the morning. He rubbed her back gently to wake her up.
“Sorry girl, it’s time to go.” He whispered. The pegasus opened her eyes slowly and flexed her huge wings. She stood up and nudged him softly with her nose. He climbed onto the animal and settled himself between the wing joints as she took flight.
A whip cracked.
“Where is it? Tell me where it is, Dwarf!” a low growling voice snarled between cracks of his whip.
“Never!” shouted the dwarf as he felt his back being stung by the whip again and again. “I would rather die than tell you!” The dwarf spat at the shoes of his torturer.
“That would make it to peaceful, filth.” said the voice with a sneer, “You must suffer as I have.”
The dwarf saw a pale, pointed face that was scarred and when a hand slapped him across the face, he felt only three fingers. A bag was shoved roughly over his head and his hands and feet were released from the iron bindings on the table, only to be bound with tight ropes that made his ankles and wrists bleed. He was carried down a narrow hallway banging against the walls until he was thrown into a cell and he heard a door slam closed behind him, leaving him in pitch-blackness. He curled up on the cell floor, unseeing and shivering.
2
The pegasus skimmed the treetops as she glided over the forest, her rider holding on firmly, but not painfully so. She reached an opening in the treetops and plunged into it, stopping a few feet from the ground and landing with a small thwump in the leaves on the forest floor. The rider hopped off and habitually drew out his staff from its tube-like case across his back. He walked in a defensive posture glancing from side to side. Although he was in friendly territory it was better to be safe than sorry. A twig cracked and the elf brought his staff around to point it sharply in the direction of the sound, somewhere to his left.
“Who goes there? Show yourself if you know what’s good for you!” He said quietly.
Another Elf Stepped into the clearing, but he was only discernible as an elf from his garb and height, his face was shrouded in the darkness of a hood.
“Are you really going to cast anything on me? Do you just randomly blast innocent elves into oblivion?” a voice from under the hood said calmly.
“I would rather be prepared to blast someone into oblivion and not need to than to be ambushed and not be ready.” The elf with the staff replied. He could tell the new elf was not a threat; the tone in his voice and the fact that he could walk in Loren without being harmed proved that.
The hooded elf lowered his hood so his face was clearly visible. It was Asterellion Leafglow.
The elf with the staff almost let out a cry of shock as he dropped to one knee in reverence.
“Master Leafglow, I most humbly apologize, I did not realize.” He said.
Asterellion chuckled softly, “Stand up Batrius; it is all right, I am glad to see you alert and watchful of our dear forest.”
Batrius stood up and grinned embarrassed as he sheathed his staff again.
“How did you know I would be here at this exact spot at this precise time?” Batrius asked in wonder at his elder elf’s genius.
Instead of giving a straight answer, Asterellion gave Batrius a look filled with indecision and gestured with his hand, “Come with me Batrius, we’re needed at the kindred.”
Batrius looked confused but whistled twice to signal Lunashia she was free for the day and walked slightly behind Asterellion to wherever they were going.
"Oh, and Batrius, I snapped that twig on purpose." Asterellion grinned, without looking at the other elf. Batrius grinned as he followed in silence.
Asterellion kept silent the whole journey as they walked through the sunlit forest; the sun had risen almost to its full height now and was shining through the branches of the trees, casting shafts of light onto the winding path.
The sound of low voices met their ears and a smell of cooking mixed with the sound of other elves filled their nostrils. They stepped into a clearing, much larger than the last and saw a great city, built in the trees with houses among the branches and ladders hanging from low limbs as an aid to enter the dwellings.
They made their way to the largest dwelling near the center of the city, the guildhall of The Kindred of the Wood. The Kindred was a group of the most elite elves who were devoted to protecting the forest of Loren and eliminating any evils from the land. Their leader, Tarian Stormcaller was quite young to be such a high-ranking person, only one hundred and thirty four. The Kindred consisted of four orders, they were these: The Order of the Hawk, the order entrusted to scout the edges of Loren to warn of any invaders. The Order of the Stag, the group dedicated to building strategic planning to help defeat all Loren’s enemies. The Order of the Fox who dealt with diplomacy with other important groups and, if things got shady, a group of assassins was enlisted in the Fox. The Order of the Unicorn, the order that was devoted to those who studied and practiced the arcane arts and who used them to further the safety of Loren.
Batrius looked around and remembered the first time he had come here; he had stumbled on the city after losing his best friend in a skaven ambush.
No time for reminiscing, he thought, Asterellion is truly troubled.
As they approached the Kindred hall, he saw all the windows covered and the door shut, which was unusual. Asterellion knocked three times on the great oak doors and stepped back as they swung open. They stepped in and Batrius saw the whole of the Kindred gathered around the hall, twenty-sum elves, all dedicated to protecting Loren, twenty-sum elves, who were is family.
Tarian stood up from his seat at the end of the hall and raised his hands for silence.
“Thank you all for coming,” he said slowly, “I will not waste time with pleasantries today. Yesterday, several of our scouts reported seeing large swarms of skaven warriors amassing themselves secretly around the edges of our dear forest. We believe this to be more than just a skaven ambush.” at these words Batrius’ eyes flashed in anger and Asterellion looked over at him briefly before focusing on Tarian again. “As such, we are planning a full scale attack on the main camp before they have a chance to strike. The leaders of your Orders will give you more information on your specific tasks now.” He sat back down and was immediately engaged in conversation by Asterellion, but they seemed to have little to talk about, for Asterellion gathered the members of his order and entered a side chamber to discuss orders with them almost at once.
Batrius walked over to his own order’s leader, Ashen, and bent to one knee before rising again and speaking. “What is my duty?” he asked
“We are going to provide back-up for the warriors, you and I being the only mages in the guild, back-up is unfortunately all we can offer.” Ashen replied.
Batrius’ eyes darkened and again he knelt briefly before exiting the hall, hearing Ashen call after him, “Be here tomorrow before mid-day to prepare for the attack!” Batrius raised a hand to signal he had heard but kept walking. He walked to the edges of Loren along the same trail he had walked so many years ago, and knelt at the hidden grave of his fallen friend. He kissed his hand and placed it on the soil over where his friend’s head lay for eternity before standing again and running to retrieve Lunashia. When he reached the clearing he raised his eyes to the sky and whistled three times, calling Lunashia back to him. She landed and rubbed her nose against Batrius’ chest as he rubbed her neck. He then sat down cross-legged and closed his eyes, meditating.
The sun had just risen over the horizon and filtered through the dense trunks of the trees, casting shafts of light to dance across the forest floor. Smells of the first meal being prepared wafted through the air and the sounds of elves rising early to begin the morning chores filled the air.
Batrius stepped out of a doorway and took a slow, deep breath of the crisp air, letting it out with a smile. He had plans for today. He walked slowly to another dwelling toward the edge of the village where he lived and climbed through a window in the back, into his best friend, Kashtrom’s room. Not much to Batrius' surprise Kashtrom was still asleep.
"Lazy kid..." he muttered as he shook Kashtrom awake.
"What...huh?" said Kashtrom sleepily as he was roughly awoken.
"Let's go!" said Batrius as he jumped out the window, to allow Kashtrom to dress in privacy.
"Oh yeah!" Kashtrom said, his eyes widening as he rushed around picking up his chore clothes and putting them on, securing his short sword to his hip and tying his brown leather headband around his head.
He too climbed out the window and found Batrius leaning against the house clutching his staff. The two boys walked stealthily around the back of the house and broke into a run and entered the denser part of the woods.
Batrius walked slowly at first and Kashtrom had to keep turning around mocking him, "Getting too old for this?" he said, "Come on, your only 6 years older than me!" and with that he took off around a tree.
With a sigh, Batrius ran after him, fighting back a grin. He caught up with Kashtrom only a hundred yards from where they had started to run and created a ring of leaves swirling around him.
They walked together out of the center of Loren, to the outskirts, talking, laughing, and sometimes singing. It took them quite some time to reach the edge of the forest and by the time they were passing the last tree, night had fallen. They didn't worry; they were old enough now that parents didn't worry too much if they were gone for a night. So they made camp and settled in for a good nights rest before the morning light came.
Batrius awoke with a start, it was still night and Kashtrom was still asleep, as always. Batrius didn't know what had awoken him until he felt a familiar twinge in the back of his mind. He stood up, unsheathing his staff. Something was wrong. He walked over to where Kashtrom lay and nudged him in the side with his boot.
"Wake up!" he said forcefully, but quietly.
"I'm awake" he stood up and removed his sword from its scabbard.
Kashtrom stood up and the stood back-to-back facing the edge of their camp eyes darting back and forth.
Suddenly a horrendous scream filled the air and a group of 10 skaven soldiers leaped at them from behind low bushes. Kashtrom cut down the first one to jump at him and made ready to do the same to the next.
Batrius closed his eyes halfway and uttered a quick spell, a ball of flame shot from the end of his staff, scorching two of the rat-men, and they fell twitching. He looked over his shoulder to see a skaven assassin leading the group, it lunged at Kashtrom, who was fighting two soldiers, and plunged its knife deep into his back.
Batrius' cry of anguish filled the air and he ran forward as he conjured another circle of fire at the two skaven soldiers who were now slashing at Kashtrom's body. Batrius sheathed his staff and pulled out his sword, magic was too time consuming, and he needed to finish them off here and now. He sliced a rat in half with a swipe of his blade and spun around, plunging the sword into the chest of a rat behind him. The assassin, who had been laughing evilly, now jumped at Batrius and the elf tried to dodge to the side, but he was too late, the knife cut a diagonal gash across his face. He sidestepped around the assassin and neatly beheaded him. Only two skaven remained, both of which were looking rather scared at the moment, their leader being dead. They ran away and Batrius didn't even try to take them down, he just fell too his knees, weeping over his friend’s body.
After a while, Batrius stood up and began to use his magic to create a hole in the land big enough for his friend's body. He removed the headband from Kashtrom's pale head and secured it around his own head. He then lifted the elf and set him gently into the hole, covering him up with the loose dirt. Knowing that a headstone would draw attention to his friend grave, and maybe bring grave plunderers, he merely cast an enchantment on the burial site, so the grave was completely blended into the ground. He sang a quick song of reverence and set out back into the forest.
It was mid-day when he found a city; the blood he had not bothered to wipe from his face had not permitted him to track correctly. He found himself in a large eleven community and walked toward the largest building; it was centered in all of the other buildings and had what looked like a guild icon upon the door. He stepped in quietly and found a number of elves sitting there, laughing and talking to each other.
What looked like the lead elf stood up and addressed Batrius "What has happened?" he said as he motioned calmly for one of the elves to clean and apply healing balm on his wound.
Batrius, weak after the journey and loss of blood, managed only, "Ambush.... Skaven...he's dead..." before he passed out on the floor of the dwelling.
Batrius opened his eyes, and the vision of his past disappeared. That was how he had come to the Kindred of the Wood. He remembered that day as though it was yesterday.
He looked around him and saw that Lunashia was asleep a few meters from him and the sun was casting long shadows across the ground, where it could filter through the trees. He stood up and stretched, taking a deep breath of fresh forest air. Lifting both hands in front of him, he picked up a pile of leaves and started it swirling in circles around the small clearing, and half-consciously kept it spinning as he sat back down against a lone tree near the center of their small clearing and slipped into a half-sleep.
3
Daim Ta’fere sat alone in his bedchamber, at a table of highly polished dark wood. A lamp cast flickering shadows on the walls and deepened the dark circles under his eyes. He stared at the chessboard in front of him, contemplating his next move against his opponent. Himself. The sun had not even begun to peek over the horizon yet and under normal circumstances, Daim would have been in his bed for another few hours, but today was a different matter. Lately the city was getting very restless. Every day more and more people were dying from hunger that the king would not abate. It had started out innocently, the people rationing themselves to get through what they thought was just a hard time in the city. After a month or so, however, with the king doing nothing to help the problem, the citizens began to worry, and some became angry. The king’s own advisor had abandoned him, and the rumor on the street was that he had been trying to organize a rebellion to overthrow the king.
Daim was captain of the King’s guard, and lately his duty had been to walk the streets dressed as a noble to try and catch word of this supposed rebellion. Daim grimaced at the thought; everyone in the city knew his face, the King had held a ceremony in his honor when he was first raised. The King’s power was failing and all he had to say about it was “See what you can find, Daim”, and then back to business about the renovation on the west wing of the palace.
There was also the issue of the thieves coming out to play. Not many had been so bold as to run into him and cut his purse since before he had become captain of the guard. It was a sign of rebellion. It was a sign of inevitable anarchy if the monarch continued to rule in his current fashion.
The dwarf laid crumpled on the floor for days, being fed once daily and taken to a waste disposal pit. He was treated like filth, although he had done nothing to harm them in any way. He had been captured in a small raid outside his home city, and tortured for information. He would not tell them, he would not crack.
He heard the creak of the cell door as it opened. He was hauled to his feet and shoved through the doorway into the hallway beyond. He was thrown down on what seemed to be a wooden table, but with the sack over his head, he could not tell. He heard the snap of a familiar whip and the rumble of a voice he had heard many times.
“Maybe today will be different dwarf, maybe today you will crack. For today I have brought something that you cherish beyond all belief.”
He snapped his fingers and he heard the sound of the door opening and three pairs of feet enter the room. He heard the whimpering of a woman and the grunts of what seemed to be two armed guards.
The hand grabbed the bag and pulled it off the dwarf’s head. His eyes stung slightly as they adjusted to the sudden change in light. The prisoner raised his head, to focus dimly on the female. She was a dwarf. Her red hair hung in wet strands to her shoulders, and her brown eyes were dull, as if she had lost the will to live. Bruises covered what skin he could see, which was most of it, her clothes were hanging in rags from her now weak shoulders. It was his wife.
Anger flashed in the male dwarf’s eyes and he thrashed his body around, trying to break free of the bindings. It was to no avail; the many weeks of mal-nutrition had starved his body of the strength it had prided itself on before. He stopped moving and hung limp.
Raising his head to the pale, scarred face, he said, “South of Loren there is a canyon, climb to the top of the tallest tree to the farthest west. Do not harm the inhabitant!” Suddenly his anger flashed again, “Now let her go! She has done you no harm!”
The pale man snapped his fingers and the guard unsheathed a dagger from his belt. The dwarf, feeling a sense of impending doom, closed his eyes screaming. He heard the rip of a shirt, and the sound of a body hitting stone floor as tears stung his eyes.
Lunashia was awake now, grazing quietly on some of the undergrowth around the edges of the clearing. Batrius sat against the tree, relishing the quiet; he had woken from his short sleep. It was in the dead of night now, and a cool breeze made the heavy limbs of nearby trees sway and creak slightly. Lifting his hands again, he brought the swirling circle of leaves to a halt, and settled them in a pile in the center of the clearing; he then stood up and began collecting rocks, mostly large ones, to enclose the leaves with. Not having his flint and steel with him, he called upon the forces of magic to create a small blaze to ignite the leaves. It was lucky for him that the forest canopy was so dense that rain had to drip slowly through all of the tangles of matted branches and boughs, and that the leaves he had were dry. If they had been green he would not have had a "natural" fire; the green leaves would have created too much smoke.
As he stared into the flames, watching them dance in the night, casting shadows across the clearing, he had time to think about the person he had been waiting for at the tavern. He hadn’t come after all. Something must have gone seriously awry. Even for a dwarf the man was always reliable. It was strange…it didn’t make sense. He sat and pondered possibilities, could he have been kidnapped? Perhaps it was all in his head; maybe the dwarf had just gotten held up, an orc or two, even a minor wound could slow a person down. Anyhow, the dwarf knew where to find him. Though Batrius was welcome in Loren (all wood elves were) his dwarf friend was not. This was why Batrius had his own secluded spot in the wedge of a small valley, so there was only one entrance, and only one exit. Only his superiors at The Kindred and his dwarf ally knew where it was. Everyone else who had stumbled upon it didn’t stumble away.
As he thought of that he decided that he should, in fact, get there, just in case the dwarf went there soon. Batrius stood and walked over to Lunashia, shaking her gently and patting her on the nose to wake her up, “Come on girl, we have to go.” Lunashia stood up and flexed her powerful wings as she nudged Batrius with her nose. He felt bad for all the times he had woken her up on his whims just to get a ride. She however did not seem to take notice, as she bent down to allow him on.
They took flight and once again Batrius felt free, the wind whipping through his hair and the trees whizzing by underneath them. Batrius closed his eyes and smiled to himself. Life was so much easier with the tree tops to catch you and the stars as your blanket.
They arrived at the wedge of the valley a few hours later, as the sun was rising and the moon setting for a days rest. Lunashia plunged to the forest floor, dodging in and out of trees before she opened her wings and flapped them against the wind to bring her self to a stop, settling gently on the undergrowth of the forest.
Batrius instinctively drew his staff in one hand and his sword in the other, even if this abode was hidden, he was cautious whenever need be. He walked slowly and deliberately to the base of the tree where he had built his home nearly a century ago. His door stood ajar…yet he distinctly remembered shutting it the last time he left his house. Someone had been there…but had it been his dwarven friend? Batrius put his staff and sword away as he jumped up to the nearest bough and pulled himself up, limb by limb, to his house.
As he stepped inside he drew his staff once again, and looked around. No chairs or tables were thrown about, no candle burned deeper, no window hanging torn. A note was stuck to his table with a dagger. He removed the dagger from its temporary housing and read:
We’ve got him, we know you know whom. He told us your dirty little secret. We’re coming for you. Be prepared.
I know your every move
_________________________________
To be continued eh? Dontcha love it ;-)
This night, three men were walking together, hands on their sword hilts, apparently casual. They were talking in low voices, pointing at an alley some two blocks ahead, nodding. The man walking in the center was shorter than the other two, who were tall and thick, and seemed to be slightly nervous, if the twitch of his eye was any indication.
The shadows stirred in the alley and a lone figure waved the three others to hurry. When the figures met, one of the three, and the lone figure from the alley seemed to have a hurried conversation while the other two looked around. A coin purse was passed from the hand of the short, nervous man to the shadowy figure.
As the trio left the solitary figure standing, counting his money, a fifth form crouched behind a gargoyle on a balcony overhead, his bow drawn. He pulled back and released in one smooth motion, his arrow taking the money counter in the upper left hand side of his chest. There was no scream, no gurgle of last second life. A clean kill.
The man from the balcony jumped to the street and moved swiftly to his fallen prey. The recently gifted coin purse was retrieved and placed into its new owner’s belt.
The thief smiled, “I told you so.” And with those words, he disappeared into the shadows of the night.
The pierced body lay in the alley, blood flowing slowly out onto the paving stones when the hounds arrived. They always sensed a fresh carcass. No sound, no light, and the body was carried away into the deeper regions of the city.
The sun dawned on a normal day in the city, casting morning light to reflect off the rain water. Smoke began rising from chimneys of those awake, and merchants began setting up carts for the day, hoping as always for more income than the day before. The closer to the back of the city a person walked, the less merchant stands and hawkers there were, and the more silk shops and fine china huts lined the streets. The city was built so that its back was to the crevice of an enormous cliff on the north and west sides, and an ocean to the east. The castle was nestled in among the face of the cliff, and was made of bricks of the same reddish stone as the canyon walls. It was built completely symmetrical side to side, the cities earlier rulers had been very strict about order in the city, but over the years, side streets and back alleys had been added, making the shops around the castle a bit difficult to find if you were new to the city. For the most part, the castle was off limits to all commoners, due to high suspicion of the king that everyone was out to get him of late. There was one area that was not restricted, however.
Shelves upon shelves of dusty volumes lined the walls of the royal library in the castle. Thadius moved quietly, searching for any information on the guild known as ‘The Truth’. He skimmed one book after another, barely reading anything that wasn’t related to “Conspiracies of the Times” or “What Lurks in the Shadows: A Guide to Alumni Guilds in Andremyn.” Nothing, A book here about how to properly skin a deer, or how to mend a tunic or string a bow. Thadius laughed at the latter. Only nobles and merchants could read for the most part, and he was willing to bet that none of them have ever held a bow, much less strung one.
As he rubbed the sleep from his eyes and put his latest failure back on the shelf, a scratchy voice whispered in his ear.
“Snoop, you may. Find, you shall not. The volumes you seek are long forgot.”
He whipped around to face the withered librarian, who was looking at him with a serious expression, over the top of his spectacles.
“What business of yours is it to tell me that I will fail? Do not criticize and then not offer assistance. Do you know of what I am looking for?” Thadius spat the whisper at the shorter man.
“I may, I may not. It’s not worth the price to be caught. Follow the raven.” That last was a barely audible whisper, accompanied by a furtive glance over his shoulder. With that, the old man turned and walked quite briskly, for an old man, away, humming.
Thadius stood there, struck a bit off-footed by the somewhat strange comment. He remained in the library, chasing his, now it seemed to be, false hope. When the clock tower chimed high watch, he scratched his now stubbly chin and rubbed his blue eyes, which ached from the search through poorly copied down books. With a sigh, he set his last book on the shelf and started out of the library. Within twenty steps of the exit, the old librarian was in his way, muttering, “Follow the raven.” And then was gone.
Thadius stepped into the bright light, quite a contrast to the dusty dark library, shielding his eyes until they had adjusted.
“Bloody heat.” Thadius cursed as he pulled a long strip of white cloth to tie around his temples to keep his black hair out of his face.
He wore a dark look to match his dark clothes as he walked down the crowded streets. There were commoners among the merchants crowding the street, pushing back and forth with no regard for who they bumped into, unless the person looked a noble.
He saw such a person ahead in the crowd, walking against the stream, bumping into people as he went. Thadius smiled to himself. The man was only bumping into people who were wearing silk. As Thadius neared, he weaved into the man’s path and bumped into him, just after he had run headlong into a merchant in bright red silk.
Thadius grabbed the man’s shoulders and spun him around, drawing his knife and pressing it to his throat.
He shouted down the street, “Merchants, Nobles. I believe we have a pickpocket in our midst.”
The thief was writhing in his grasp, a look of unparalleled horror on his face, and low mutterings of terror escaped his lips.
Thadius tore open the man’s coat and revealed the many straps and now full coin pouches around the man’s scrawny frame.
A circle of onlookers had gathered at the commotion and many of them were checking their belts and coats for their coin pouches.
Thadius began removing all of the money bags and tossing them to the now outraged looking merchants.
Shouts of “Kill him!” and “Noose! Noose!” filled the air, and several people actually tried to grab the man away from Thadius.
He just shook his head and removed the thief’s own pouch and dispensed the coins to the crown, “That should be sufficient punishment.”
He proceeded down the street without a backward glance, hauling the man bodily behind him. Several turns were made, to make sure none had followed, and he shoved the man into the nearest inn, The Dancing Donkey. They entered quickly, but quietly, into a typical common room. Polished dark wood tables and chairs with silver gilded candle holders stood around the room in clusters. On the far side of the large rectangular room was an elaborate mantle and fireplace, where a flame haired woman played the harp and sang to a rather large midday crowd.
It was a fairly large crowd, for midday, but it was still fairly empty, the sun hadn’t fallen yet, but there were enough people in the room that Thadius ordered his food sparse and his drink shallow. His companion removed his coat and all of his straps, handing them to Thadius.
“Yeh could be a bit more gentle with yer handlin’ o’ me. I aint a sack of rice to be tossed about!” His green eyes were slightly narrowed.
“You were pushing your luck, or did you not notice who you ran into? Daim Ta’fere.”
“Oh I did, but only after I had. I did wonder why his purse was so fat, but I can’t exactly give it back to him can I?” A grin split the man’s lips.
“Well we shouldn’t be seen together, I don’t exactly look reputable, and I’m sure some of your friends will be looking for you.” Thadius turned and left the inn after placing his friend’s cut on the chair next to him. “Until tomorrow, Jon”
Thadius’ home was in the section of the town by the dock, in the foreman’s room of an abandoned warehouse. He slipped in the back door and climbed the ladder to his room, and stepping carefully on the floor, carefully because it was littered with broken weapons, clothes, and food, made his way to the makeshift bed in the corner.
“Home sweet home.” He sounded sincere as he picked through the clothes, looking for some bread.
He ate slowly, lying on his pallet of wood and ragged blankets, staring at the ceiling. When he had finished, he stood and took the two steps to cross the room and rummaged through his battered chest. He removed a rather large sack from the bottom of the chest and opened the mouth of it wide.
“I’ve brought you all friends.” He smiled and emptied the days fetch into the bag of similar objects; rings, coins, bracelets and necklaces nearly half filled the bag.
Thadius spent the rest of the afternoon sharpening his sword and twin daggers, and fashioning arrows. He unstrung his bow and waxed the string, then after propping them both in the corner, returned to his bed. He didn’t bother lighting a lamp when the sun began to set; he just lay down and slept, waiting for his early morning arrival to start his routine over again.
The moon was clear in the sky tonight, the previously hanging clouds had dispersed, allowing light to radiate into the city. Thadius woke early as always, before most sensible people had, during the time when the dishonest made their transactions with each other in the poor parts of town. He strung his bow and armed himself as usual, creeping onto his own rooftop to perch and repeat his inevitable life once again.
The elf stood alone in the corner of the grubby tavern, watching, and waiting. He watched many people come in, but not the one person he wanted to see, he would come, he would come. The smell of smoke filled his nostrils and he wrinkled his nose. Why do they ruin themselves with that? He thought.
Deciding the smoke was too much for him, the elf walked outside as he pulled out his whittling knife and a small rounded shaft of wood from a pouch on his leather belt. He let his weight fall as he sat down, working in silence, and shaving away bits of the wood.
The elf’s ears pricked, a horse had whinnied in the distance. He listened for a few minutes but went back to work; ears alert for sound of anything.
He put his whittling knife down and pulled out a longer thinner knife and began to hollow out the shaft he had carved. Once this was complete, he pulled out the whittling knife again and made several small holes along the top of the shaft and one larger hold toward the left end of the instrument. He meticulously smoothed over the whole shaft with the knife and started making designs and words in Eltharin across the flute. The elf looked up only after he had completed the instrument about 2 hours later. He blew into it and played a small tune that he remembered, but couldn’t recall from where. He leaned back against the wall of the tavern and looked up into the vast dark expanse of the starry sky, his eyes half closed, but his ears still listening for the slightest sound of an unusual noise.
A faint glow appeared on the horizon. The sun rose slowly behind a thick blanket of mist and the forest that stood a mere hundred yards from the pub. A sliver of light fell upon the elf’s boots and a few minutes later it reached his face. He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to block the light, reaching his hand up to shield his eyes; his eyelids weren’t doing the job.
The elf, in the light, could be seen now. He had dark brown hair and sharp blue eyes, like the sky before the sun starts to sink into the distance. He was fairly short for his race but he stood taller than the average human. He had a finely chiseled face, but a thin scar ran from his upper left forehead down across his nose and along his right cheek, he also had a pointed nose and ears. He was clad in but studded leather armor, and a pointed hat. Several pouches and packs were along his belt and a strap across his chest held a leather backpack underneath his tanned leather cloak. Another strap that held a quiver of arrows ran crossways to the first strap. A sword was sheathed at his side and his long bow was secured at his other hip. A long thin tube also attached to a strap contained a 6-foot long oak staff with an emerald set into the top. His hair, which he had tied back into a ponytail, fluttered slightly with the morning breeze and the scent of flowers reached his nose. The person he had been waiting for had not arrived, he surely would not have come and simply left the elf lying there.
The elf walked around to the back of the pub and climbed the stables to where his pegasus Lunashia slept in the early hours of the morning. He rubbed her back gently to wake her up.
“Sorry girl, it’s time to go.” He whispered. The pegasus opened her eyes slowly and flexed her huge wings. She stood up and nudged him softly with her nose. He climbed onto the animal and settled himself between the wing joints as she took flight.
A whip cracked.
“Where is it? Tell me where it is, Dwarf!” a low growling voice snarled between cracks of his whip.
“Never!” shouted the dwarf as he felt his back being stung by the whip again and again. “I would rather die than tell you!” The dwarf spat at the shoes of his torturer.
“That would make it to peaceful, filth.” said the voice with a sneer, “You must suffer as I have.”
The dwarf saw a pale, pointed face that was scarred and when a hand slapped him across the face, he felt only three fingers. A bag was shoved roughly over his head and his hands and feet were released from the iron bindings on the table, only to be bound with tight ropes that made his ankles and wrists bleed. He was carried down a narrow hallway banging against the walls until he was thrown into a cell and he heard a door slam closed behind him, leaving him in pitch-blackness. He curled up on the cell floor, unseeing and shivering.
2
The pegasus skimmed the treetops as she glided over the forest, her rider holding on firmly, but not painfully so. She reached an opening in the treetops and plunged into it, stopping a few feet from the ground and landing with a small thwump in the leaves on the forest floor. The rider hopped off and habitually drew out his staff from its tube-like case across his back. He walked in a defensive posture glancing from side to side. Although he was in friendly territory it was better to be safe than sorry. A twig cracked and the elf brought his staff around to point it sharply in the direction of the sound, somewhere to his left.
“Who goes there? Show yourself if you know what’s good for you!” He said quietly.
Another Elf Stepped into the clearing, but he was only discernible as an elf from his garb and height, his face was shrouded in the darkness of a hood.
“Are you really going to cast anything on me? Do you just randomly blast innocent elves into oblivion?” a voice from under the hood said calmly.
“I would rather be prepared to blast someone into oblivion and not need to than to be ambushed and not be ready.” The elf with the staff replied. He could tell the new elf was not a threat; the tone in his voice and the fact that he could walk in Loren without being harmed proved that.
The hooded elf lowered his hood so his face was clearly visible. It was Asterellion Leafglow.
The elf with the staff almost let out a cry of shock as he dropped to one knee in reverence.
“Master Leafglow, I most humbly apologize, I did not realize.” He said.
Asterellion chuckled softly, “Stand up Batrius; it is all right, I am glad to see you alert and watchful of our dear forest.”
Batrius stood up and grinned embarrassed as he sheathed his staff again.
“How did you know I would be here at this exact spot at this precise time?” Batrius asked in wonder at his elder elf’s genius.
Instead of giving a straight answer, Asterellion gave Batrius a look filled with indecision and gestured with his hand, “Come with me Batrius, we’re needed at the kindred.”
Batrius looked confused but whistled twice to signal Lunashia she was free for the day and walked slightly behind Asterellion to wherever they were going.
"Oh, and Batrius, I snapped that twig on purpose." Asterellion grinned, without looking at the other elf. Batrius grinned as he followed in silence.
Asterellion kept silent the whole journey as they walked through the sunlit forest; the sun had risen almost to its full height now and was shining through the branches of the trees, casting shafts of light onto the winding path.
The sound of low voices met their ears and a smell of cooking mixed with the sound of other elves filled their nostrils. They stepped into a clearing, much larger than the last and saw a great city, built in the trees with houses among the branches and ladders hanging from low limbs as an aid to enter the dwellings.
They made their way to the largest dwelling near the center of the city, the guildhall of The Kindred of the Wood. The Kindred was a group of the most elite elves who were devoted to protecting the forest of Loren and eliminating any evils from the land. Their leader, Tarian Stormcaller was quite young to be such a high-ranking person, only one hundred and thirty four. The Kindred consisted of four orders, they were these: The Order of the Hawk, the order entrusted to scout the edges of Loren to warn of any invaders. The Order of the Stag, the group dedicated to building strategic planning to help defeat all Loren’s enemies. The Order of the Fox who dealt with diplomacy with other important groups and, if things got shady, a group of assassins was enlisted in the Fox. The Order of the Unicorn, the order that was devoted to those who studied and practiced the arcane arts and who used them to further the safety of Loren.
Batrius looked around and remembered the first time he had come here; he had stumbled on the city after losing his best friend in a skaven ambush.
No time for reminiscing, he thought, Asterellion is truly troubled.
As they approached the Kindred hall, he saw all the windows covered and the door shut, which was unusual. Asterellion knocked three times on the great oak doors and stepped back as they swung open. They stepped in and Batrius saw the whole of the Kindred gathered around the hall, twenty-sum elves, all dedicated to protecting Loren, twenty-sum elves, who were is family.
Tarian stood up from his seat at the end of the hall and raised his hands for silence.
“Thank you all for coming,” he said slowly, “I will not waste time with pleasantries today. Yesterday, several of our scouts reported seeing large swarms of skaven warriors amassing themselves secretly around the edges of our dear forest. We believe this to be more than just a skaven ambush.” at these words Batrius’ eyes flashed in anger and Asterellion looked over at him briefly before focusing on Tarian again. “As such, we are planning a full scale attack on the main camp before they have a chance to strike. The leaders of your Orders will give you more information on your specific tasks now.” He sat back down and was immediately engaged in conversation by Asterellion, but they seemed to have little to talk about, for Asterellion gathered the members of his order and entered a side chamber to discuss orders with them almost at once.
Batrius walked over to his own order’s leader, Ashen, and bent to one knee before rising again and speaking. “What is my duty?” he asked
“We are going to provide back-up for the warriors, you and I being the only mages in the guild, back-up is unfortunately all we can offer.” Ashen replied.
Batrius’ eyes darkened and again he knelt briefly before exiting the hall, hearing Ashen call after him, “Be here tomorrow before mid-day to prepare for the attack!” Batrius raised a hand to signal he had heard but kept walking. He walked to the edges of Loren along the same trail he had walked so many years ago, and knelt at the hidden grave of his fallen friend. He kissed his hand and placed it on the soil over where his friend’s head lay for eternity before standing again and running to retrieve Lunashia. When he reached the clearing he raised his eyes to the sky and whistled three times, calling Lunashia back to him. She landed and rubbed her nose against Batrius’ chest as he rubbed her neck. He then sat down cross-legged and closed his eyes, meditating.
The sun had just risen over the horizon and filtered through the dense trunks of the trees, casting shafts of light to dance across the forest floor. Smells of the first meal being prepared wafted through the air and the sounds of elves rising early to begin the morning chores filled the air.
Batrius stepped out of a doorway and took a slow, deep breath of the crisp air, letting it out with a smile. He had plans for today. He walked slowly to another dwelling toward the edge of the village where he lived and climbed through a window in the back, into his best friend, Kashtrom’s room. Not much to Batrius' surprise Kashtrom was still asleep.
"Lazy kid..." he muttered as he shook Kashtrom awake.
"What...huh?" said Kashtrom sleepily as he was roughly awoken.
"Let's go!" said Batrius as he jumped out the window, to allow Kashtrom to dress in privacy.
"Oh yeah!" Kashtrom said, his eyes widening as he rushed around picking up his chore clothes and putting them on, securing his short sword to his hip and tying his brown leather headband around his head.
He too climbed out the window and found Batrius leaning against the house clutching his staff. The two boys walked stealthily around the back of the house and broke into a run and entered the denser part of the woods.
Batrius walked slowly at first and Kashtrom had to keep turning around mocking him, "Getting too old for this?" he said, "Come on, your only 6 years older than me!" and with that he took off around a tree.
With a sigh, Batrius ran after him, fighting back a grin. He caught up with Kashtrom only a hundred yards from where they had started to run and created a ring of leaves swirling around him.
They walked together out of the center of Loren, to the outskirts, talking, laughing, and sometimes singing. It took them quite some time to reach the edge of the forest and by the time they were passing the last tree, night had fallen. They didn't worry; they were old enough now that parents didn't worry too much if they were gone for a night. So they made camp and settled in for a good nights rest before the morning light came.
Batrius awoke with a start, it was still night and Kashtrom was still asleep, as always. Batrius didn't know what had awoken him until he felt a familiar twinge in the back of his mind. He stood up, unsheathing his staff. Something was wrong. He walked over to where Kashtrom lay and nudged him in the side with his boot.
"Wake up!" he said forcefully, but quietly.
"I'm awake" he stood up and removed his sword from its scabbard.
Kashtrom stood up and the stood back-to-back facing the edge of their camp eyes darting back and forth.
Suddenly a horrendous scream filled the air and a group of 10 skaven soldiers leaped at them from behind low bushes. Kashtrom cut down the first one to jump at him and made ready to do the same to the next.
Batrius closed his eyes halfway and uttered a quick spell, a ball of flame shot from the end of his staff, scorching two of the rat-men, and they fell twitching. He looked over his shoulder to see a skaven assassin leading the group, it lunged at Kashtrom, who was fighting two soldiers, and plunged its knife deep into his back.
Batrius' cry of anguish filled the air and he ran forward as he conjured another circle of fire at the two skaven soldiers who were now slashing at Kashtrom's body. Batrius sheathed his staff and pulled out his sword, magic was too time consuming, and he needed to finish them off here and now. He sliced a rat in half with a swipe of his blade and spun around, plunging the sword into the chest of a rat behind him. The assassin, who had been laughing evilly, now jumped at Batrius and the elf tried to dodge to the side, but he was too late, the knife cut a diagonal gash across his face. He sidestepped around the assassin and neatly beheaded him. Only two skaven remained, both of which were looking rather scared at the moment, their leader being dead. They ran away and Batrius didn't even try to take them down, he just fell too his knees, weeping over his friend’s body.
After a while, Batrius stood up and began to use his magic to create a hole in the land big enough for his friend's body. He removed the headband from Kashtrom's pale head and secured it around his own head. He then lifted the elf and set him gently into the hole, covering him up with the loose dirt. Knowing that a headstone would draw attention to his friend grave, and maybe bring grave plunderers, he merely cast an enchantment on the burial site, so the grave was completely blended into the ground. He sang a quick song of reverence and set out back into the forest.
It was mid-day when he found a city; the blood he had not bothered to wipe from his face had not permitted him to track correctly. He found himself in a large eleven community and walked toward the largest building; it was centered in all of the other buildings and had what looked like a guild icon upon the door. He stepped in quietly and found a number of elves sitting there, laughing and talking to each other.
What looked like the lead elf stood up and addressed Batrius "What has happened?" he said as he motioned calmly for one of the elves to clean and apply healing balm on his wound.
Batrius, weak after the journey and loss of blood, managed only, "Ambush.... Skaven...he's dead..." before he passed out on the floor of the dwelling.
Batrius opened his eyes, and the vision of his past disappeared. That was how he had come to the Kindred of the Wood. He remembered that day as though it was yesterday.
He looked around him and saw that Lunashia was asleep a few meters from him and the sun was casting long shadows across the ground, where it could filter through the trees. He stood up and stretched, taking a deep breath of fresh forest air. Lifting both hands in front of him, he picked up a pile of leaves and started it swirling in circles around the small clearing, and half-consciously kept it spinning as he sat back down against a lone tree near the center of their small clearing and slipped into a half-sleep.
3
Daim Ta’fere sat alone in his bedchamber, at a table of highly polished dark wood. A lamp cast flickering shadows on the walls and deepened the dark circles under his eyes. He stared at the chessboard in front of him, contemplating his next move against his opponent. Himself. The sun had not even begun to peek over the horizon yet and under normal circumstances, Daim would have been in his bed for another few hours, but today was a different matter. Lately the city was getting very restless. Every day more and more people were dying from hunger that the king would not abate. It had started out innocently, the people rationing themselves to get through what they thought was just a hard time in the city. After a month or so, however, with the king doing nothing to help the problem, the citizens began to worry, and some became angry. The king’s own advisor had abandoned him, and the rumor on the street was that he had been trying to organize a rebellion to overthrow the king.
Daim was captain of the King’s guard, and lately his duty had been to walk the streets dressed as a noble to try and catch word of this supposed rebellion. Daim grimaced at the thought; everyone in the city knew his face, the King had held a ceremony in his honor when he was first raised. The King’s power was failing and all he had to say about it was “See what you can find, Daim”, and then back to business about the renovation on the west wing of the palace.
There was also the issue of the thieves coming out to play. Not many had been so bold as to run into him and cut his purse since before he had become captain of the guard. It was a sign of rebellion. It was a sign of inevitable anarchy if the monarch continued to rule in his current fashion.
The dwarf laid crumpled on the floor for days, being fed once daily and taken to a waste disposal pit. He was treated like filth, although he had done nothing to harm them in any way. He had been captured in a small raid outside his home city, and tortured for information. He would not tell them, he would not crack.
He heard the creak of the cell door as it opened. He was hauled to his feet and shoved through the doorway into the hallway beyond. He was thrown down on what seemed to be a wooden table, but with the sack over his head, he could not tell. He heard the snap of a familiar whip and the rumble of a voice he had heard many times.
“Maybe today will be different dwarf, maybe today you will crack. For today I have brought something that you cherish beyond all belief.”
He snapped his fingers and he heard the sound of the door opening and three pairs of feet enter the room. He heard the whimpering of a woman and the grunts of what seemed to be two armed guards.
The hand grabbed the bag and pulled it off the dwarf’s head. His eyes stung slightly as they adjusted to the sudden change in light. The prisoner raised his head, to focus dimly on the female. She was a dwarf. Her red hair hung in wet strands to her shoulders, and her brown eyes were dull, as if she had lost the will to live. Bruises covered what skin he could see, which was most of it, her clothes were hanging in rags from her now weak shoulders. It was his wife.
Anger flashed in the male dwarf’s eyes and he thrashed his body around, trying to break free of the bindings. It was to no avail; the many weeks of mal-nutrition had starved his body of the strength it had prided itself on before. He stopped moving and hung limp.
Raising his head to the pale, scarred face, he said, “South of Loren there is a canyon, climb to the top of the tallest tree to the farthest west. Do not harm the inhabitant!” Suddenly his anger flashed again, “Now let her go! She has done you no harm!”
The pale man snapped his fingers and the guard unsheathed a dagger from his belt. The dwarf, feeling a sense of impending doom, closed his eyes screaming. He heard the rip of a shirt, and the sound of a body hitting stone floor as tears stung his eyes.
Lunashia was awake now, grazing quietly on some of the undergrowth around the edges of the clearing. Batrius sat against the tree, relishing the quiet; he had woken from his short sleep. It was in the dead of night now, and a cool breeze made the heavy limbs of nearby trees sway and creak slightly. Lifting his hands again, he brought the swirling circle of leaves to a halt, and settled them in a pile in the center of the clearing; he then stood up and began collecting rocks, mostly large ones, to enclose the leaves with. Not having his flint and steel with him, he called upon the forces of magic to create a small blaze to ignite the leaves. It was lucky for him that the forest canopy was so dense that rain had to drip slowly through all of the tangles of matted branches and boughs, and that the leaves he had were dry. If they had been green he would not have had a "natural" fire; the green leaves would have created too much smoke.
As he stared into the flames, watching them dance in the night, casting shadows across the clearing, he had time to think about the person he had been waiting for at the tavern. He hadn’t come after all. Something must have gone seriously awry. Even for a dwarf the man was always reliable. It was strange…it didn’t make sense. He sat and pondered possibilities, could he have been kidnapped? Perhaps it was all in his head; maybe the dwarf had just gotten held up, an orc or two, even a minor wound could slow a person down. Anyhow, the dwarf knew where to find him. Though Batrius was welcome in Loren (all wood elves were) his dwarf friend was not. This was why Batrius had his own secluded spot in the wedge of a small valley, so there was only one entrance, and only one exit. Only his superiors at The Kindred and his dwarf ally knew where it was. Everyone else who had stumbled upon it didn’t stumble away.
As he thought of that he decided that he should, in fact, get there, just in case the dwarf went there soon. Batrius stood and walked over to Lunashia, shaking her gently and patting her on the nose to wake her up, “Come on girl, we have to go.” Lunashia stood up and flexed her powerful wings as she nudged Batrius with her nose. He felt bad for all the times he had woken her up on his whims just to get a ride. She however did not seem to take notice, as she bent down to allow him on.
They took flight and once again Batrius felt free, the wind whipping through his hair and the trees whizzing by underneath them. Batrius closed his eyes and smiled to himself. Life was so much easier with the tree tops to catch you and the stars as your blanket.
They arrived at the wedge of the valley a few hours later, as the sun was rising and the moon setting for a days rest. Lunashia plunged to the forest floor, dodging in and out of trees before she opened her wings and flapped them against the wind to bring her self to a stop, settling gently on the undergrowth of the forest.
Batrius instinctively drew his staff in one hand and his sword in the other, even if this abode was hidden, he was cautious whenever need be. He walked slowly and deliberately to the base of the tree where he had built his home nearly a century ago. His door stood ajar…yet he distinctly remembered shutting it the last time he left his house. Someone had been there…but had it been his dwarven friend? Batrius put his staff and sword away as he jumped up to the nearest bough and pulled himself up, limb by limb, to his house.
As he stepped inside he drew his staff once again, and looked around. No chairs or tables were thrown about, no candle burned deeper, no window hanging torn. A note was stuck to his table with a dagger. He removed the dagger from its temporary housing and read:
We’ve got him, we know you know whom. He told us your dirty little secret. We’re coming for you. Be prepared.
I know your every move
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To be continued eh? Dontcha love it ;-)