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Captors
Posted: 15 Feb 2006 07:29 PM |
Barely speaking, there was no need. Slowly, almost silently, the patrol moved through the trees of Latonei forest communicating when necessary by signal, by look, a quick motion of the hand, an almost imperceptible gesture with the head. They had trained, patrolled and on occasion fought together for so long now that their knowledge of each other such that they knew almost before it occurred how each other would react to any given situation.
For over a week now they, and others like them, had been even more vigilant than usual. Since word had reached Ferein of the massacre in Paws the Elves had been moving, unknown to most who would pass through. Increased patrols, greater numbers at observation points, alert for none knew what. It was sufficient that the Hunter had struck. In Latonei, Mystic Wood, along the Slyvian Trail and the borders of the Forest, the Elves prepared for war.
But war with who?
Here in Latonei the sense of watchfulness was even more heightened if that were possible, rumours passing quickly from one to another of travellers speaking of the White Bishop’s latest sermon in Midor, of the burnings, the hatred, the talk of war.
So it was that the Ferein patrols extended their net, moving on occasion through Gladden and into the farmlands beyond. Never staying, never seen, but watchful nevertheless for any movement from the White City.
Carefully they moved through the forest, three in a file fairly well spaced, off to left and right a further two, and a short way to the rear Haldamir, the leader. Each alert to each other’s movements, each searching the surroundings by both sight and sound, senses keenly attuned for the slightest sign of anything out of the ordinary. Each aware that a mistake out here could be the last mistake made.
Haldamir’s lip quirked slightly as he searched the ever darkening forest, he had little doubt that even if a mistake were survived whoever made it would wish they had fallen should Aeladhrial become aware of it. Quick to laugh and joke the captain may be but he had no doubt that there would be no sense of humour should anything go wrong. She expected the best. Tonight, perhaps, even more so. As they had departed from the lodge she had seemed uncharacteristically on edge. Aware as they all were that this night could see their fates decided. Even as he walked here the Council were meeting to decide Ferein’s response in light of the happenings in Midor.
Lost momentarily as he was in such thoughts, he only just caught sight of the raised hand ahead of him, alerted as much by the lack of barely heard footsteps around him as his companions halted.
At the columns head, he heard the soft voices of the two in front, pitched as to be almost inaudible he couldn’t hear what they were discussing, was aware of nothing other than the fact that they spoke with each other. And then the louder voice, from the darkness ahead.
"Greetings, brothers. Freshly returned from a Hunt, or departing upon a new one."
Haldamir dropped to a crouch, nocking an arrow in the save movement and moved swiftly and silently towards his colleague Nellas, who stood bow drawn tightly and arrow aimed at one of three figures who could now be made out. As her bow sang and the arrow howled towards the figures they split, now aware of their mistake as from left and right the two flankers also opened fire.
As Nellas drew her bow to full extension once more Haldamir silently gripped her shoulder, shaking his head and gesturing off to where the three Tarikians could now clearly be heard as they made their separate breaks for the Slyvian. He mouthed but one word, “Aeladhrial”, and without a word said in response she nodded and ran silently back towards the Mystic Wood for their commander.
Haldamir watched her disappearing form for a moment then ran in a crouch to join the two who had been at the head of the column. As he closed on them he could see them, running in short bursts through the trees, firing occasionally before being joined by the flanker from the left side.
Then a cry… from further ahead, someone had found a mark.
Haldamir turned sharply, bow raised and drawing before recognising the dark haired elf that sprang silently to his side. Wasting no time and barely out of breath she spoke quietly and rapidly, “How many?”
“Three,” he whispered, “one hit by the sound of it.”
She nodded and gestured him to lead on, “Nellas will return shortly with reinforcements and druids from the Mystic,” she intoned, “Meanwhile let’s see if we can stop these reaching their roost.”
They passed quickly through the darkness which was now almost complete, faint moonlight breaking through the canopy above as the hectic battle continued in almost complete silence, broken occasionally only by the sound of a released bow and the scream of an arrow.
They dropped to the ground as they came across a figure lying unconscious at the base of a tree, Tarikian. A quick search of his appearance was enough to satisfy them that he was uninjured but would be unconscious for some time. “Nellas can deal with him,” hissed Aeladhrial quickly, “Go! Go!”
Haldamir ran, swiftly, attempting still to catch up with the leading trio who had gained distance on them when they paused. A muffled shout and scuffle to the right told them another had been found by the flanker to that side which left but one of those they had seen.
Then a scream, brief and quickly choked off. Haldamir peered through the darkness as he began to catch his fellows, Aeladhrial not far behind. He saw but two ahead now in pursuit and as he neared them saw the body where it lay staring up sightlessly at the filtered moonlight. He grimaced at the horrific wound which marked one side of the archer’s face, the acid still bubbling in the ruined eye socket.
“Don’t stop!” Whispered the voice from behind, though her tone told him that she was not entirely unaffected by the sight. He glanced back briefly and saw her kneel at his companion’s side, checking him carefully; though the fact that she did not speak told him clearly enough that he was dead.
The two remaining ahead had slowed, then stopped, scanning the trees ahead of them silently. Haldamir drew up beside them, eyes and ears trained ahead for the slightest disturbance. He touched the arm of the woman beside him, his questioning look enough to tell her what she wanted as she pointed ahead at a large tree. Clearly the hunter had gone to ground behind it.
He was about to turn and pass the information to Aeladhrial when a spear hissed from the darkness ahead, the elven woman cried out and fell backwards, clutching the shaft as the weapon buried itself in her chest.
The elf to her other side loosed off three quick shots, the arrows screaming into the darkness back in the direction from where the spear had come. No sound, no cry to show any had found a target.
Aeladhrial arrived, her breathing still steady as she coolly gestured the other archer to remain with the fallen woman who still breathed fitfully, her features contorted in agony as the acid continued to do its work.
Then she beckoned to Haldamir, and the two set out slowly to stalk the remaining quarry. This one was good; obviously whatever mistake they had made in blundering into the patrol wasn’t going to be repeated by this one. “But then”, thought Haldamir as he glanced at the small figure moving off to his right, “so was she.”
Though the Mystic Wood they passed, the slightly less thickly wooded land allowing them to make better progress, and increasing their foe’s difficulty in robbing him of some of his cover. Nevertheless, though it was apparent that they were still on his trail, neither caught sight of him.
Along the trail and towards the Slyvian they continued, still fruitlessly and yet somehow still aware they had not lost him. Aeladhrial moved closer, touching Haldamir’s arm lightly and gesturing ahead in a circling motion. He nodded his understanding and watched as she stealthily disappeared into the darkness ahead.
Alone now, he moved on, attempting to move as rapidly as possible and yet at the same time with a minimum of sound as he searched the ground for sign, which the foe through his haste could not avoid leaving on occasion.
As he neared the borders of the Deep Forest his caution increased, this was the No Man’s Land of the unending war between Ferein and Tarik’s followers. He was keenly aware that were he not careful he could easily end up becoming a victim himself.
A faint glimmer in the long grass ahead caught his eye and he bent to examine it, reaching out for what was obviously a charm or piece of jewellery of some kind, which his quarry had either dropped or lost.
As his hand closed around it he was knocked from his feet, winded as his attacker sprang from the grass where he had lain unseen, the hunter’s hands closed around his throat as Haldamir, caught by surprise, tried to fight him off.
For what seemed an age the rolled on the ground, Haldamir weakening rapidly, his vision blurring as he attempted to break the other’s grip with increasing desperation.
Then suddenly the attacker’s grip was released, the hunter rolling to one side as Haldamir gasped for breath, his hands massaging his throat as he looked up to see Aeladhrial standing over the other elf, an arrow aimed squarely not a foot away from his face. Not taking her eyes from him she waited for Haldamir to recover, then gestured to him to bind the Tarikian.
That done, the two Ferein elves stood looking down at their captive, staring back up at them fearlessly and still defiant.
“A good night’s work,” smiled Aeladhrial, “get him on his feet and let’s get him back to Ferein, the others should have returned by now.”
Haldamir did as she asked, pushing the other none too gently as they walked back towards the trail and safety.
Now more or less fully recovered, he looked at his captain as she studied their surroundings, as alert as ever. “Is there any word?” He asked.
“None…” she intoned, “none at all. Doubtless we shall hear soon enough.” |
ELVES! |
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