Chapter 4

Not used to sleeping on the ground, the best Sareth could find for comfort was the moss and dead leaves. It was cold and damp but I was soft enough and he was tired.

He dozed.

True sleep wasn't possible and a slight nap was the best he was going to manage under the circumstances.

That way, he postponed the inevitable nightmares that he knew come.

The darkness of his night drew on and on and the sky remained black, even up to the cusp of dawn.

Then as if reluctant to relinquish the darkness, the sky tried to fight the approach of the sun but eventually the sun won out.

The orange light filtered up through the black as the dawn came. Sareth was awake before it came and watched the light pass through the canopy of trees above. The noise of the creatures of the forest who came alive at night ended and the chorus of those of the day began.

"He should have been back by now." He heard Leanna mutter. Glancing over, he saw that she was sitting beside the fire with Wyngaal and another of his elves.

"Your concern is felt by us all, m'lady." Wyngaal agreed. "But let us not panic. 'Tis entirely possible that he found some place to hide during the night and will come to us now the light of the sun marks the way."

"I know." The girl said. "But what if they caught up with him? What if…"

"In my experience, when trying to get something done it is not healthy to continually contemplate the idea of 'what if'." The second elf cut in. "We can only trust in Lord Menelag's skill and wait."

Wyngaal looked around, noticing that Sareth was rising.

"Ah, good day." He greeted him. "How do you feel this morn?"

"Better." Sareth replied quite truthfully. The doze had helped him regain his strength and surprisingly he also felt less fragile.

There was a spit turning over the fire where the remains of a dear were slowly cooking.

The notion of eating meat for breakfast was, for a moment, repulsive. Then his stomach reminded him of how hungry he was and then suddenly the roast venison did not seem quite so barbaric.

Having not touched the banquet the cultists had helped themselves to last night he was ravenous.

"Did you see anyone out in the forests?" He asked as Wyngaal cut him a few slices of the meat with his dagger.

"The cultists were out in force." Wyngaal replied with a frown. "We saw them only from far off yet from the number of them, I should imagine that they roused a good hundred o their number to scour the countryside in search of us." His frown became grave. "I confess I had not expected them to be quite so vehement about loosing you."

"I saw a few goblins to the north but that is all that block our path there, for the moment." The second elf added. Goblins were no threat. "I think it might be wise to move before too long."

"We can't leave… my uncle…" Leanna stated, sounding distressed.

"I am not suggesting abandoning lord Menelag, my lady." The Elf added quite quickly. "But I'm saying that in the unlikely event…"

"Er, I think that will do Holillaa." Wyngaal told him with a glare. The elf bowed his head.

"Of course, forgive me my lady." The elf apologised.

"No it's alright." Leanna said off handily. "I suppose we're all a little worried about this and that."

The sun had risen above the horizon when Menelag finally returned. The lookouts reported him coming and Leanna ran out to meet him. The wizard was moving as quietly as he could through the forest, being careful not to leave any tracks for anyone to follow.

"I'm sorry, it took me longer than expected to get back." He apologised when his niece brought him back to the camp. "They were vindictive and it was only through a series of translocations that I was able to escape."

His tone of voice suggested someone who had merely been for light exercise yet Sareth could sense that Menelag was far more taxed then he was allowing them to see.

He was sweating hard and his moved seemed laboured.

Sareth was not the only one to notice this. Leanna looked up into the face of her uncle and then her eyes became afraid.

"Lord Menelag." Wyngaal began slowly. "What are you hiding with your arm?" All eyes were suddenly on the side of the wizard that he was holding an arm tightly across.

Panicking, Leanna moved her uncle's arm aside and gasped when she saw that his robes were stained dark black and red by blood.

"Elrath's mercy!" She whispered, pulling back the clothes. Sareth winced at the side of the jagged wound that had been carved there. It was a serious injury and it went deep, cutting through muscle as well as flesh.

Unable to keep up the pretence of health, Menelag's strength gave way and he collapsed to the ground. Sareth caught the wizard before he was struck the ground and with Leanna's help they moved him into a comfortable position by the fire.

"Can you heal him, my lady?" Wyngaal asked, looking very concerned.

There were tears in Leanna's eyes.

"Some of it, but not all. It's been left too long." Her tone suggested that it went a bit further than that.

"Do... not concern yourself with me." Menelag told her. "The cultists search for you and sooner or …or later they'll come across this grotto. You must move while you have the light to guide you. Leave me if you must."

"As courage as you are to suggest such a thing, My lord, 'tis not necessary." Wyngaal assured him and made more silent hand gestures towards the elves. Holillaa eventually returned with some tree branches and a collection of leaves. While he helped Leanna to hold her uncle in a comfortable position while she tried her best to heal him, Sareth watches the elves weave a stretcher with ease from the materials they had gathered.

"How far behind you where they?" Wyngaal asked once they were finished.

"A few hours. I erased the tracks but they have dogs with them." Menelag replied. Leanna's spells had stopped the bleeding yet the wound remained. With the blood gone, Sareth would see the tear had been done by a dagger.

"Phenrig did this didn't he?" He asked.

"That doesn't matter." Menelag stated as he was transferred onto the stretcher. He winced a little as the elves carried him up. "The night as reigned in but the cultists have not. They will track you until the ends of Ashan if need be."

"But why?" Sareth demanded. "Why do they want me?"

"That's not important." That insistence irritated Sareth to the point where he was perfectly capable of striking an injured man. "You must escape. If it looks like we might be captured, you must flee, leave me behind and run."

"No uncle. Stonehelm still needs you!" Leanna insisted with an angry overtone. "I gave my cousin my word that he wouldn't have to rule in your place forever and I don't intend to disappoint him."

They broke camp hastily and rode out of the grotto, heading north deeper into the forest. It was slow going carrying the injured wizard and making sure their tracks were concealed. The elves made sure to confuse any tracking hounds by spraying every second tree they past with a yellow liquid in a bottle.

"What's in that?" Sareth asked looking at the glass container in Wyngaal's grasp as the elf put the cork back on.

"Hydra piss." He replied bluntly. "The best deterrent for animals following a scent is a whiff of their vile excretions."

"Hydra?" Sareth repeated.

"Multi-headed reptilian beasts." Wyngaal explained. "They live in the caverns in the deepest places in the world. The Dark Elves occasionally harness them for war."

"How big do they get?"

"Hmm… I'd say with all its necks outstretched that an adult Hydra could reach a god twenty feet."

"And how did you get that from them then?" Sareth asked again, raising an eyebrow and casting another glance at the bottle. "Or do I really want to know?"

"Nothing like that." Wyngaal assured him rather quickly. "I acquired a few bottles of it through the black markets. Officially the Dark Elves and the faithful of Sylanna don't trade between each other, yet occasionally Merchants on both sides meet in secluded places to exchange goods." His voice had dipped low so the other Elves couldn't hear him.

"I take it these meetings are frowned upon." Sareth asked with a level stare.

"Well, I suppose you really have to understand the animosity between our peoples. Its goes back quite a way to the burning of our sacred mother tree, Brythigga."

He proceeded to give Sareth a short history lesson. He recanted the history of the elves, or at least their established history. He spoke of how the Elfin noble woman, Tuidhana, spilt from Irollan and declared independence from the Elfin kingdom.

Her followers, according to him, became Dark Elves by turning from the Elves Dragon Sylanna to follow the Dragon of Darkness Malassa.

Then, when the Sylvan's capital city of Syris Thalla had been consumed by fire and the mother tree known to the Elves as Brythigga had been burned to ashes the Dark Elves had been blamed for the atrocious act.

Tuidhana had been executed in punishment and her people banished to the underground caverns and tunnels, for forever dwell away from the sun.

It was only grudgingly that Wyngaal admitted that some time after this, it had been discovered that the fire had in fact been started by a spy for the demon cults.

"I think I can see where this is going." Sareth admitted. Wyngaal nodded once grimly.

"Most of that is all water under the bridge, now, anyway." The elf continued. "Yet the hurt pride still exists on both sides. So can see why meetings like that aren't exactly encouraged."

They continued down a hill with the forest still blanketing them on both sides, casting an eerie green light through the canopy during the noon.

"You know." Sareth began. "I've just realized that it's my birthday!"

Given the circumstances it was not surprising that this little detail had slipped his mind.

Wyngaal slapped him heartily on the back with a short laugh.

"Ah many happy returns of the day to you, young sir." He chuckled. "Not the best way to spend ones day of birth I suspect, hmm?"

"I can think of a few places I'd rather be." Sareth admitted.

"Happy Birthday." Xana's voice echoed, speaking to him privately through that link they shared and then she quickly retreated as if she feared to stay any longer.

"Xana, listen, I think we need to talk." Sareth told her with a silent thought.

The spirit did not reply.

"Please, Xana." Sareth insisted.

"Alright." She eventually came back.

"Phenrig didn't really assign you to be my guardian, did he?"

He could feel Xana's despair as keenly as if he could see it on her face.

"Yes and no." She admitted. "I am your bodyguard that much is true, but I had another duty… a duty the neglecting of which would have earned punishment."

"To help them during the ritual, whatever they intended to do, you had to help."

There was a long, guilty pause.

"Yes." The emotion behind her reply was a mixture of guilt and shame.

"Just what were they trying to do to me?"

"Make you into a monster." Her reply was an evasion of sorts as Sareth was certain there was more to it than that, that much he had felt during the ritual itself yet there was enough truth in that to ensure his desire for further information about the specifics, at this time, was diluted.

"Yet you defied them." He wondered. "Twice. Once by agreeing to help me leave and then again directly, during the ritual."

"None of my kind have ever defied orders before." Xana actually sounded confused, as if she could hardly believe it herself. "Not directly… never."

"Then you are the first."

"I shouldn't be. Its… it's not natural for my kind to do this."

Sareth took in a deep breath and drummed his fingers across the width of his silver amulet. Apparently he was not the only one confused. Xana, like himself, needn't time to thick and evaluate both decisions and the consequences of those decisions.

"Well, I'm glad you did it all the same." He told her and then she was gone.

"Illuminate me, young man, how many summers have past for you thus far?" Wyngaal, who had not heard that private conversation, asked as he slowed the horse he was leading into a trot beside Sareth.

"Eighteen." He replied absent, now passing the number off as completely unimportant.

Wyngaal did not share the sentiment however. His expression was needlessly emotional as if the news were something of a blow to a fundamental truth to him.

"This must not be!" He stated firmly. "No boy should spell the dawn of his manhood this way, travelling with strangers through unfamiliar places without at least something to mark the occasions!" The elf passed the reins of his horse to Sareth and then with free hands, began to rummage around the back pack underneath his leave strewn travellers cape.

After a moment he withdrew what appeared to be a piece of folded wood. With a wide grin he handed it over.

The item in Sareth's hand was folded, almost like paper but with thin black wire interwoven like a spider's web within its structure. Parts of it were engraved but it overlapped so it was impossible to see the whole design.

"What is it?" He asked, looking up at the grinning elf.

"Hold it out in front of you and put your fingers into those three ridges." He replied, mimicking the actions as he spoke.

It took Sareth only a moment to find the ridges he was referring to and copied the action.

Like the wounded spring, the strange item responded and Sareth nearly dropped it in surprise as it unfolded with a loud click.

Transforming before his eyes it became a bow, the string unravelling and coming taught as the wooden pieces snapped into place.

"It's called a Springer Bow." Wyngaal explained smugly. "Once you done using it, you can fold it up and carry it in your pocket if need be."

Sareth admired the bow in his hand. Now he could fully see the pattern carved along each side and marvelled at the near perfect depictions of interweaving vine and oak leaves.

The bow was longer than his forearm yet it felt light for its size. The string looked as if it might be woven from hair yet it shone almost like metal. Running his hand along it, he realised that it had been made seamless by tree sap.

"I'm not sure if I can accept this." Sareth started. "I mean its just so… so beautiful."

"I won't hear of it, its my gift to you." The elf replied with a smile. "When I came into adulthood I myself was presented with a bow such as this. Heretofore, all I had been allowed to focus my skills on had been the tools of apprentices. This is the weapon of men."

Sareth admired the bow again. The wooden folded pieces were held rigid by a series of brass, or what appeared to be brass, hooks that snapped shut to hold it there when it unfolded. Even these were engraved, each one made to look like a leaf or an acorn.

He ran his finger along the string, feeling its perfect edge.

"But... I'm a novice at Archery." He added, looking up. The elf chuckled.

"We've still a long way to go yet." He turned his head and called to the other elves. "Holillaa, bring me that spare quiver!"

In retrospect Sareth supposed that this birthday had not been so bad after all. For the remainder of that whole day, Wyngaal showed him the fine points of Elfin Archery and precisely how deadly a weapon a bow could be in the right hands. Targets were easy to choose and plentiful in the woods, an occasional squirrel, a bird in flight and even fruit on the tops of tall trees.

Wyngaal let loose an arrow, sending it flying off between the trees were it disappeared. A moment later they were a loud whelping sound like sounded almost like high pitched voice.

"Got him." Wyngaal commented with a dry note of satisfaction as the sound grew fainter as whatever he had targeted fled deeper into the undergrowth.

"You got what?" Sareth asked.

"A goblin." The elf leaned his bow across one shoulder and grinned. "Hit him right in the left calf. He'll be limping for days, if he gets the arrow out at all."

Sareth looked around in wonder.

"How did you see him through all this brush?" He asked, gesturing around at the bushes, trees and long grass.

"The eyes of Elves are better than those of men." Wyngaal replied, trying not to brag. "Sylanna's blessing gives us the sight of the sharpest eyed bird of prey."

"Is that what the elves believe, that Dragon's give their peoples their racial traits?"

"It's true! Who else but the patron of the earth could grant us such symbiotic power with nature? Or who else but the Dragon of Fire could give the Dwarves their fiery spirits?"

As the sun began to set Sareth had picked up the basics of the bow. He knew how to raise and hold the bow and the angles at which it had to be positioned for a target to be hit. There was still much for him to learn about the subject but by the time his curiosity on the subject had been peeked they were stopping to make camp for the night.

Letting down the Springer Bow was as easy at setting it up. The three grooves at the front had to be pressed together. As quickly as it had sprung up, it folded back with the wire recoiling itself around the folding wood.

"It's a great present." He said with a smile. "Thank you."

"I am but a Ranger doing what he thinks proper." Wyngaal said as his elves set up tonight's camp, sheltered by moss covered rocks. "Although, I suppose there is one more gift for you while the hours of the day are still here."

Sareth laughed and held up a free hand.

"Oh no, you've done enough for me already with the bow and the archery lesson."

"This is one I must offer, I fear." The elf insisted and then offered him his open hand. "You begin out into the world this day and what happens to you across Ashan may be great or humble. Either way, I offer you the hand of friendship."

There was more being offered in that simple handshake that Wyngaal could not have imagined.

Sareth instantly saw beyond it wand the implications left him quite. This was the beginning of something, of a long journey for him. It would be a journey that would cover leagues in both distance and spirit. It was the beginning of his life and what he deemed it to be.

Making friends with this Elfin Ranger was but the first step.

Smiling, he reached forth and grasped the hand of both his new friend and his new fate.

This was the furthest away from the manor Sareth had ever been before. Phenrig had never allowed him to venture far, for now obvious reasons.

As such he was lot a good judge of distances so he wasn't sure how far they had travelled. He was to guess, he would place them somewhere near the border of Irollan, probably no more than a day from those unending forests.

Was that where they were going? It would be interesting to see Irollan, after all his books had once told him of the Elves and their culture.

"Unfortunately no." Leanna said sadly when Sareth asked her. "We've no permission from King Alaron to enter Irollan. We do however have provisions and sanctuary arranged with Clan Lord Raelag of the ShadowBrand."

"That's a Dark Elven Clan isn't it?" He asked in surprise.

Leanna nodded. "Our destination is Ygg chal?"

That left him feeling a bit unsure of this whole thing. While he knew that it was not fair to paint all of the Dark Elves with the same brush, his unpleasant experience with the brutal Thralsai had left him with a very bad impression of their kind.

"You will be safe there, Sareth, I assure you." Menelag stated. Once ever few miles, Leanna would try to heal more of her uncle's wounds. She was just beginning to make progress but the elderly wizard was still quite week. Wyngaal had prepared a poultice for him and had laid it across the wound to prevent the spread of infection.

"Lord Raelag is a friend of the ruling family of StoneHelm." Leanna added. "He can be trusted to keep you out of harms way."

"You've met him?"

"Oh yes. On many occasions." The girl sounded a little smug. "He's quite the experienced warlock and knows almost all there is to know about elemental magic."

Sareth thought about that. He too was a student of elemental magic and perhaps, if luck would allow, he could learn something from this Raelag.

That thought cheered him up considerably. His original intention of travelling to learn different magic's might not have to be abandoned after all.

Holillaa, who was taking the lead in the scouting party, return to them out of the brush ahead and gestured rapidly to Wyngaal. Sareth did not understand the signals yet their fast motions indicated danger to him.

"What's wrong?" Wyngaal asked when they got here.

"The cultists must have gotten ahead of us." Holillaa replied in a wheeze. "They have troops waiting in the valley below."

Wyngaal's face went flinty.

"How many?"

"About twenty, maybe more. It's an ambush, I'm certain. Archers and men in armour, they look Imperial."

The other elves readied their bows and one of two drew their swords with a soft metallic hiss of blade against scabbard.

"Did they see you?" Wyngaal asked again. Holillaa shook his head.

"I don't think so, but should we take that chance?"

"Probably not. We're outnumbered." He thought for a second. "We're going to have to get around them without them noticing. Do they have any dogs?"

"No."

"Good. That gives us some leeway for stealth." Wyngaal paused and glanced back at the injured Menelag.

"I've told you to leave me behind if something like this happens." The wizard stated irritably, still clutching at his side.

"And I've told you we won't do that." His niece replied stubbornly.

"Is there a way around the valley?" Sareth asked. "Some concealed path perhaps, a way through the brush?"

"There's a collapsed cliff side with hidden ridge we might be able to get through, but it's a big valley and such a detour will take us the rest of the days light." Holillaa warned.

"Well it's a lot better an alternative than fighting when out numbered when it's a fifty/fifty chance we might have the element of surprise." Wyngaal pointed out. "Good thinking Sareth. Alright, we go around but we keep our eyes open, not telling where they might have other ambushes set up."

The valley they had to go around was almost like a canyon. Sareth suspected the origin of the fault line that created it would probably lie amongst the ragged mountains of GrimHeim to the far north. It's slopped were covered in tall trees yet these gave away to a carpet of tall grass. From the vantage point of the top of the valley, it was just possible to see the sunlight glint off the surface of men in armour.

The eyes of Elves were better than those of humans and Wyngaal assured Sareth that when he looked, he could see crossbowmen hiding there as well.

"Armoured Vindicators, probably Lorenzo's men." The elf said and then he swore. "I got careless. The dog's couldn't follow us because of the Hydra Urine but their masters just followed the trail! They must have guessed where we were going and then circled around."

"It's too late to do anything about it now." Leanna commented. "Come on, let's find that ridge."

The ridge wasn't hard to find. Part of the side of the valley had collapsed, possibly due to an earthquake in recent history. Passing through the rubble was a path, just wide enough for them to walk through. Jagged rocks like teeth stood up near and there, casting long shadows that would shield them from sight from the men down on the valley floor

"One of us should scout on ahead to see if it's safe." Holillaa muttered, keeping his voice down. None of them wanted their voices to carry on the wind. Wyngaal shook his head.

"No time. If we dally about up here, sooner or later they're going to realise where we are and then things turn nasty." He frowned. "I don't like taking this risk but it's a lot better than staying. We go together."

There was a short drop down into the hidden crevice and Sareth had to assist Leanna in awkwardly lowering her uncle's stretcher down.

"Thanks Sareth." She told him with a sweet smile.

"I'm not sure I entirely like how much that girl is depending on you." Xana remarked waspishly and with a jealous overtone.

"Oh feeling better are you?" Sareth asked a little slyly in return and sensed the wind being taken out of her figurative sails. "I hope you're not about to accuse me of being too trusting."

"Well… I…." She floundered. "Well I don't like her. That's all." Then she went silent as if sulking.

The passage through the rocky path twisted back and forth in quite a few different directions. Had the path been straight, they might have made it to the other side before dark.

Having to manoeuvre through the rocks however, meant that the sun was dipping low in the sky before they even saw the other side through the gaps in the rocks.

"Are they doing anything?" Wyngaal asked Holilla, who was keeping an eye on the cultist's intended ambush in the valley.

"They're growing restless." The elf replied. "I think they know by now that their plan's gone wrong." He looked up. "I think we ought to pick up the pace a little, it won't take them long to find our trail once they come up here."

That was something they all agreed was a good idea. Quickening their step, they went as quickly as they could while trying to keep as silent as possible.

Sareth accidentally knocked a rock with his foot. It rolled off the edge of a boulder and then struck some more rocks on the way down, the loud clatter of stone against stone echoing through the valley.

One of the men in ambush stood up out of the long grass and looked around. Sareth could see the armour they wore now. It was plate mail with gold trim around the edge of each plate. The helm had a pair of intimidating curved ivory horns on either side and the tunic across the armour itself was blood red. He carried in one hand a long sword in one hand and a shield attached by straps to the other.

"Did he see us?" Leanna asked in a hushed as they all froze on the path, none of them so much as moving an inch as the armoured man glared around in the general direction of the landslide.

There was a sudden loud clicking sound.

"Oh we saw you alright." A voice stated. Glancing up sharply, the group found that atop the rocks were perched at least six Crossbowmen, their loaded with bolts and held at the ready. Their faces were mostly hidden behind visors underneath a metal helm and like the armoured men down in the valley they all wore red tunics across their armour.

Unlike the armoured men in the valley whose attire was designed for melee combat, their armour was light and made from a mixture of chain mail and a breastplate. It provided sufficient protection and was light enough for them to move about with more agility.

"Drop your weapons!" Their apparent leader declared, gesturing forward with his crossbow. Caught by surprise and without any room to manoeuvre in this narrow pass, the elves had no choice but to drop their bows on the ground one by one.