Darein woke when he heard his mount attempting to run into the brush to hide. He released it and followed the example jumping into the nearest tree, even in his dark mitheral chain shirt he was light on his feet. Fortunately they were high elves, they couldn't track Darein if their lives depended on it. However wild elves could track remarkably well and might have spotted him in his makeshift perch. Darein however was not truly an elf in soul though he couldn't figure out how he was different, Toamaka knew but refused to divulge the information, despite threats of being re-forged into what he loathed most, a spear. He observed the elves for about an hour before deciding to drop down to see if they were all right. They looked as though they had seen a recent battle. When he dropped down he saw they both asleep. With his black skin and silver hair glinting in the moons pale light he carefully removed their weapons and primitive bandages revealing the extent grievous wounds.
Darein decided it was worth the risk to stabilize the two elves. Darein carefully induced them into a comatose state and removed the closest elf's shirt to inspect the wounds. Darein noticed small nicks on his arms from drow sleep darts and what appeared to be a wound from a large axe along the lower half of his ribs to his stomach. Darein quickly, but precisely stitched the wound closed after applying a healing salve.
He moved to the second elf and removed her shirt and covering her breasts with it. Finding her wounds were worse than the males were, he carefully sat her up and shoved the rest of an arrow through her abdomen and pulled it out her back, causing a small whimper to escape her lips. Inspecting the arrow shaft he concluded he had feared. The arrow was made of Iron rose, an extremely durable wood with inch long curving thorns, making them difficult to remove. Darein was suddenly struck by the thought that they might not be alone. Quickly inspecting the young woman's hands finding the puncture marks on them had healed. That meant these wounds were about a day or two old. Making it dangerous to move the two elves, but fatal not to. Darein removed the other arrow shafts and put a sealing salve on the wounds.
Darein put the shirt the shirts back on the elves. He drew his dagger and slit the palm of his hand placing a drop of his blood on their foreheads. His rich tenor voice filled the small grove as he chanted, removing the enchantment from the elves. Their drowsy eyes settling on his shadowy outline as he put his dagger back in its sheath. The elves gasped at the sight of a drowlike elf that was almost six feet in height standing over them with khopesh strapped over his shoulder. The male tried to lift his sword and shield for an attack but they fell limp at his side. The female reached for her javelin on her back, but yelped as her arm fell back down.
Darein winced when he saw them in pain, but resisted the urge to run to their sides. "Please don't do that, you'll hurt yourselves and waste all that time I spent stitching you closed. You must stand, we have to get to my cave before the dawn." He said calmly to the two elves.
Looking to each other the two nodded and the woman growled through labored breathing, "We can stand, but we can't go any farther drow."
At that moment a large ghostlike, warhorse thundered out of the trees and kneeled, motioning for the elves to get on. Darein helped them mount the sturdy horse then mounted it himself sitting behind the two refugees. With a click from Darein's tongue the horse was in a dead run, the wounded passengers barley shifting as the horse's powerful muscles propelled them through the night. The two wounded slept through most the ride. Darein kept a careful eye on the eastern sky, waiting for the inevitable first light, and what travels with it.