Hi ho everyone, and welcome to the long awaited chapter 7!! **thunderous applause** Alright, I want to start off by apologizing profusely for how long it took me to get this up. I really don't have a very good excuse, save the fact that I got an insane bout of writer's block and getting this chapter done was like pulling teeth. I'd also like to thank once again my wonderful beta Laughingwolf and of course my irreplaceable editor Craeft. Happy now, you two? Sheesh. Ah yes, and the largest thank you of all goes to The Corsairs, without whose Blue Album I would not have been able to finish this goddam chapter.
The gloom that hung heavily over the forest at all times was swiftly deepening. Tal blinked in the tricky half light, stepping softly through the treacherous bracken and the grabbing thorns, painfully aware of the snap of every brittle twig. He peered ahead into the tangle of woods, trying to catch a glimpse of Weylyn's shadowy form flitting half seen before him like a wraith in the twilight.
He was about to push forward through a low thicket of brambles when a pale hand on his chest brought him up short. Weylyn materialized suddenly out of the darkness, his green eyes black under the dark trees. He held a finger to his lips and tilted his head to the side, beckoning Tal to follow him. They crept forward, silent as shadows until the woods began to glow softly with the dim reflection of firelight.
Tal tiptoed ahead quietly to peer into the small clearing before them. The faint embers of a dying fire burned sullenly in the midst of the campsite and cast flickers of golden light against ancient trees hung thick with vines. There were some small items of baggage tossed haphazardly about and what looked like the beginnings of a tent. Of the Stone Brothers and their dark leader, however, there was no sign.
He melted warily back into the shadows, shaking his head. "I do not like this," he hissed beneath his breath. "This is their camp, without a doubt, but there is no more sign of life than the song of crickets. This could be an ambush. In fact," He lifted his head to glance again into the silent clearing, and his eyes shone softly in the dying firelight. "In fact, I am willing to say this is about as obvious an ambush as I have ever seen."
There was a soft hiss as Weylyn drew one of his daggers from his belt and tested the blade against his thumb. He nodded slowly. "Mmmm… I would have to agree with you there, my dear friend. If those trees aren't full of our unwashed prey, than I'm a striped seal." He slid the dagger back into its sheath. "Unfortunately, I don't think we have too many options at this point."
Tal pursed his lips. "You're probably right… But that doesn't mean I have to like it." He sighed, his eyes returning to the clearing and burning with an old anger. "Too long has my forest been overrun with these rats. This is not the first time they have used these woods to cover their retreat, to come skulking back to after their latest depravity." He spat. "And it will not be the last. One ranger alone cannot stem this tide."
Weylyn turned his head to glance at Tal, surprised by the smoldering vehemence in the usually mild ranger's voice. He raised an eyebrow. "One would think the local authorities would have something to say about this. Perhaps even his royal decadence the Emperor would send you aid, if these Stone Brothers are as big a menace as you say."
Tal laughed low in his throat, completely devoid of mirth. "Do not think I haven't asked, Weylyn. I have gone to the city guards of Tulley and Glasstower and White Gate. I have made the long trek to Emerald Bay and begged for aid on my knees before the Emperor himself. Oh, they were all very polite." His lips twisted up in a mockery of a grin. "They told me in the most courteous way possible that there is no law against the selling of services, and that the Emperor's men had better things to do than chase down every sellsword this side of the Hills of Dourn. In other words, the Stone Brothers have wasted no time in paying their dues to the Emperor. They keep his pockets lined with gold and conveniently the fine men of the Watch suddenly have better things to do." He shook his head angrily and looked once more to the dark clearing before them. "I would give anything for the power to wipe these vermin from my forest for good and all, but I cannot do it alone."
He didn't move as Weylyn placed a hand softly on his shoulder. "Not alone Tal," he smiled crazily. "Not this time."
Tal grasped his hand and grinned back at him gratefully. "Well, then I suppose we two mighty warriors had best get this little piece of suicide over with. Fortune today, death tomorrow, or so the corsairs say."
Weylyn swallowed and quickly pushed his way past Tal and into the clearing.
"Do they?" he shouted as the five Stone Brothers leapt out of their hiding places with a roar. "I wouldn't know."
With a puzzled look, Tal dove after him into the dim circle of firelight.
* * * * *
The forest was blacker than tar. The darkness in the air was almost a tangible thing that she had to cut her way through in her mad dash for freedom. She ran blindly with no sense of direction or any idea what dangers lay before her, and the trees loomed up out of the shadows before her like tall, solemn sentries. The skeletal branches whipped at her face and the grasping brambles tore at her clothes and legs as she sprinted wildly through the gloom.
When she could run no longer, she hid gasping behind the nearest tree, the rough bark pressing into her bruised palms, trying to quiet her hammering heart. She perked up her ears, straining to hear the dreaded sounds of pursuit. Nothing. She sighed. The forest around her was silent and calm. Tucking her hair behind her ears, she tiptoed out from behind her hiding place, hoping to better get her bearings.
With a flash of black wings a dark form dropped from the sky to land on the path right in front of Ellywick with a hiss. It slowly folded its wings to resolve into the elegant figure of the dark elf, staring furiously at the gnome.
"I am sorry to inform you," he growled. "That I have finally lost my patience."
Ellywick dove blindly to the side, barely dodging the crack of raw power as the tree she had been standing next to exploded.
"You know… I'm going to stop being nice to you if you keep acting like this!" She shouted. "Even if you don't have a mommy…that's no excuse for being rude!" Ellywick ducked hurriedly as another crack of power filled the air. She sniffed at the acrid smell drifting from the burning trees and wrinkled her nose. Taking a deep breath, Ellywick tumbled out from behind the cover of the tree and, muttering softly, made a few complex gestures in the darkness.
There was a satisfying muffled crunch and a long creative stream of elvish swearing as the drow ran face first into her wall of force. He reeled backwards, clutching his bruised nose and trying to blink the stars out of his vision. Closing his eyes in concentration, he placed his hands against the wall and grit his teeth, bending the entirety of his will against the invisible force.
He grinned wolfishly as he felt the wall slowly give way. With a final burst of energy, he broke free, panting slightly. His dark eyes scanned the trees once more, searching. The gnome had hidden herself, and he crept forward softly as a cat stalking its prey. "Come out, little friend," he hissed alluringly. "You have my word that I will not lift a claw to harm you. Come now, we can all see the logic in that, can't we? You can't keep slinging spells at me forever, you know. And, thanks to my dear mother's side of the family, any that you do get off before you collapse from exhaustion, I will likely be able to resist."
There was a shrill defiant cry of "Resist this!" from the trees as a flash of bright blue lit the trees in stark relief. A sudden low hum nearly drove the dark elf's ears into his skull as a blast of icy wind slammed into him. The cold crept up his limbs and seemingly deep down into his bones. It crept over his face and froze in a sparkling rim of frost across his eyelashes. It was within and without him, a dull aching deep inside and the piercing of dozens of knives across his skin. He tried to shake his head, feeling the bones in his neck creak painfully.
"All right," he coughed over the rime of frost on his lips. "I'll give you that one." In a stiff labored motion he drew the longsword from the sheath on his back, its blade obsidian black in the dappled moonlight. Sketching arcane patterns in the air with his free hand, he began growling low in his throat, the strange syllables seeming to crawl across the chill night air. With a final syllable, the woods were plunged into impenetrable darkness.
Ellywick waved a hand desperately in front of her face. The blackness pressed against her eyes and crept over her skin like a smothering blanket. If she hadn't known better, she would have sworn she had gone blind; no speck of starlight or moonlight dared penetrate that horrible darkness. A low chuckle came out of the pitch black sea and grated against her ears.
"My, my, my… Aren't we in a spot of trouble? I can see you quite clearly, and yet somehow I doubt you have the same luck." The dark elf laughed again. Gritting her teeth and uttering an oath that made her own ears turn pink, Ellywick did her best to approximate where the voice was coming from. Concentrating hard against her anger and fear, she pulled together her reserves into what she hoped would be a final spell. She heard the dark elf hesitate as he saw her hands weave in their arcane movements, but it was too late for him to do anything but curse as he was engulfed by a massive sphere of fire.
The flames did nothing to push away the blackness; the forest immediately around her was still as thick as ink. For a moment, all she heard was the dull roaring of the dancing blaze. As it died away, the forest was left in silence. There was no snapping of twigs or crunch of leaves, no rustling of clothing from the direction she had cast towards. She counted the beats of her heart. One… Two… Three… Nothing. The forest was utterly still. She let out a breath she didn't realize she had been holding in and smiled. She had either managed to blindly hit the bastard or he had run away. Either way was fine with her.
In a splintered instant, this delusion was shattered as a clawed hand struck like lightning out of nowhere and took hold round her neck. Ellywick squeaked as she felt the needle pricks of talons pressing lightly against the racing veins in her neck. The faint scent of smoke wafted across her face as the dark elf leaned close to her.
"That is quite enough of that," he spat. She could feel the heat from his breath brushing her ear. This close, he smelled faintly of crushed lilacs. "My hands may be tied when it comes to your wretched life, but by the dark gods, you will be sorry if you cast so much as a light spell, you wretched toadstool."
Ellywick's eyes were huge in the dark. "I am sorry!" She whispered softly.
The dark elf closed his eyes and rubbed a temple wearily. "And what, pray tell, are you sorry for, my smelly little gnome?"
"Well," she said, batting her eyelashes innocently. "This for starters." She laughed as she brought her hands together quicker than thought. Twin bolts of pure magic shot from the tips of her dainty fingers and struck him square in the chest.
The impact threw them both to the ground. The dark elf lay still for a moment, coughing raggedly. Drawing his sword again with a painful hiss, he rolled to his feet and spat blood. "Enough," he whispered raggedly. "This game is done." He swung the blade blindingly fast, but through luck or keen senses, Ellywick sensed his attack and rolled clear.
Drawing the walking staff from her back as she tumbled, Ellywick swung it desperately in the direction she guessed the dark elf to be. Her first attack swung wide and whiffed harmlessly through the air. She smiled, however, as a loud crack and a furious oath from the elf spoke of a palpable hit from her second. Stumbling as the supple wood connected to the back of his knee, the elf lashed out with his good leg and sent Ellywick flying with a well placed kick.
The elf cast a look of pure annoyed hatred at Ellywick, as he swung his black blade in a swift arc as the little gnome struggled to pick herself up from the forest floor. Unable to see and without the time to sense the elf's attack, she had no chance to evade. The flat of the blade caught her across the back of the head as she tried to pick herself up from the ground, and the little gnome's world went blacker than the unnatural darkness around her.
With a sharp word and a quick gesture from the elf, the blackness was lifted, and the soft light of the moon lit the tangled clearing once more. The dark elf gazed dispassionately at the crushed little figure on the ground before gesturing to the wiry Stone Brother watching from the shadows.
"Take her," he said shortly. "We make for the tower tonight."
* * * * *
Weylyn ducked, the iron studded cudgel of his opponent barely brushing the top of his hair. Tumbling nimbly forward, he rolled between the hulking mans legs and sprang up behind him. With a deft scissoring motion of his daggers, he hamstrung the brute before springing up to meet the attack of yet another Stone Brother.
Not five yards away, Tal was hard pressed to hold his own against two of the mercenaries. The curved blades of his twin daggers flashed silver and scarlet in the light of the moon and the dieing flames as he struggled to keep up his catlike dance. He deftly blocked the heavy handed attacks of one man, only to feel his legs suddenly torn out from under him with a wrenching jerk. Landing hard with a muffled grunt, he followed the tangled line of a whip that ran from his ankles to the fist of a leering brute with a broken nose. Cursing under his breath, Tal flipped over to land crouching on his haunches, tearing the whip's handle from his attacker's hand and causing the mercenary to fall forward with a grunt. Tal worked madly to untangle the thongs of cracked leather, keeping half an eye on the prone man before him. He was just pulling himself free when the Stone Brother leapt to his feet with a roar…only to be cold cocked by the heavy hilt of Weylyn's rapier.
"Bit thick, isn't it?" He said callously. In the pit of his heart, however, Weylyn was worried. Both he and Tal were tiring, and the mercenaries still outnumbered them two to one. And there was no sign of Ellywick. He spun suddenly, deflecting a heavy chipped blade, but doubled over as the mercenary's fist connected with his stomach. The air left his lungs in a painful rush, and he stood bent over for several heartbeats trying to regain it. By that time, the mercenary had him by the throat.
Tal was quickly tiring. The Stone Brothers were not only skilled fighters, they were also each two or three times larger than both he and Weylyn, and the advantage was beginning to show. Moving to block his opponent's next attack, Tal was too slow to catch the subtle feint of the man's blade, and was sent reeling from a savage blow.
He slammed into the trunk of an ancient tree, hung heavy with moss and tangled vines. Wiping the warm flow of blood from his vision, Tal tried to pull himself into a defensive stance, but stumbled backward as a wave of dizziness flooded over him. He shook his head angrily as his vision began to blur. Leaning back heavily, he tangled his fingers in the thick vines and hauled himself to a standing position, ready to face his last few moments on this earth with bravery. He glanced wearily to Weylyn; the young half-elf's struggles were becoming weaker as the Stone Brother holding him by the throat slowly squeezed the life out of him. Tal shook his head mournfully, he wished he had had the time to know the young fighter better; he was a good man, if…strange at times.
Something deep within Tal refused to give in, however. Some deep nagging thought teased at him and he paused, staring blearily down at the twisted greenery in his hands. If only… Tal shook his head. It had been a long time since he had tried anything like that. And yet… The ranger laughed. "And yet" indeed. What did he really have to lose at this point? Trying to ignore the pain wracking his body, and the slow steady advance of the mercenaries intent on finishing him off, Tal closed his eyes and reached. Speaking softly in a lilting ancient language he reached for the sleepy spirits of the plants around him. He smiled slowly as he felt a faint rustle, and the tough fibrous vines seemed to almost…yawn.
The mercenary, a thick, red bearded ruffian named Graenn, stepped warily forward. His prey was leaning drunkenly against the fringe of trees, breathing heavily with his eyes closed. He looked about half dead, but Graenn wasn't taking any chances with this one. No sir. He and his brothers had had far too much trouble from this particular runt of a tree lover already. The mercenary spat, treading cautiously closer to the seemingly comatose ranger. His eyes did not open as Graenn moved closer, and the mercenary smiled wolfishly, spitting on his hands and preparing to dispatch of the troublesome young man in one swift stroke of his pitted blade.
A faint rustling brought him up short. He peered forward through the flickering gloom and hesitated as he saw the vines surrounding Tal lift and undulate, as if brushed by an unseen hand. He shook his head, snorted derisively at his own foolishness, and took what was to be his last step in the realm of the living. With an explosive hiss the deep green tangle of vines surged forward like living whips, knocking the dumbfounded mercenary's sword from his hands and wrapping around his neck in the space of a breath.
The clearing erupted into chaos, as the thick wild vines awoke and tangled themselves aggressively around the mercenaries. The Stone Brothers' attempts to free themselves from the creepers grew increasingly frantic, as the living nooses tightened around each of their thick necks. The man attacking Weylyn grabbed the young pirate's arm in a death grip, his fingernails gouging painfully into Weylyn's arm and drawing thin lines of blood as he was dragged unstoppably backwards. Still gasping for air himself, Weylyn aimed a savage kick at the mercenary's stomach. The mercenary fell back with a strangled cry, taking most of Weylyn's right shirt sleeve with him, as the vines tightened further over his quickly purpling face.
Within the space of a few minutes, the clearing was deathly silent. The leaves of ivy that now covered the clearing's floor, rustled peacefully in the night breeze. Weylyn laughed raspily, rubbing his throat where the big thug's fingers had left dark bruises.
"Well, my friend, it looks like it was fortune today. Nicely done. Looks like I owe you my life yet again." He grinned. "Let's try not to make a habit of that, hmmm?"
Tal did not answer. Puzzled, Weylyn lifted his eyes to find the young ranger just…staring at him, his eyes piercing in the dark. Fearing he may be hurt, Weylyn stepped softly towards him.
"Tal?"
Tal blinked and shook his head softly, as if waking from some dark dream. "You— you seem to have lost your sleeve." He said at last.
Weylyn raised an eyebrow and looked frowningly down at his right arm. "Mmmm…yes. Pity that." He sat down on the nearest leaf covered corpse. "The question is where do we go from here? We've taken down your little friends, yes." He shook his head angrily. "But there is no sign of where Ellywick is, or if she is even still among the living."
Tal ran a hand through his hair. "It's no use falling into despair at this point, Weylyn. We've come too far for that." He leaned wearily against a tree, resting his head against the rough bark. "Not all tracks were obliterated by our little dinner party here. There is the suggestion that someone with gnome sized feet left heading to the Northeast. If that's the case, they may very well be taking her to the Keep."
Weylyn raised an eyebrow. "A keep? In the middle of this god forsaken nowhere?"
Tal shrugged. "It's more of a ruin now, an atrocity of black stone and iron, not to mention black sorcery if you believe half the tales. No one knows who built it, or indeed why; at least, no one that I have spoken to. On my last patrol through this region, nothing was living there but legends and old wives' tales." He looked darkly through the trees to the North. "Apparently that has changed."
Weylyn shivered unpleasantly and slid his rapier back into the supple leather sheath. "Lovely. Well…best foot forward I suppose. Nothing ventured, nothing gained and all that rot." He strode without a backward glance into the dark fringe of the trees.
Tal didn't move, but stared silently after him with that same calculating piercing gaze. After a moment, he shook his head, sheathed his daggers and followed quietly after the young pirate to the Northeast where, had they been able to see above the softly murmuring trees; the black tips of a tower could be seen, blotting out the first young stars.