~Chapter Ten~

Descent into Darkness

Holth Adûr

Kingdom of Cedirc

7th Day of Pendelius

Twilight

There was little light left in the sky by the time the company of ilvarri at last set foot on the bottom of the deep chasm. None of that light shone on the canyon floor, so far had they descended; instead, the company was stuck in the shadows cast by the cliffs far above, souring their mood.

It had been a slow descent, each ilvar keenly aware that a single misstep on the narrow ledge would mean a long fall followed by a quick death. More than once, a loose piece of slate had broken off beneath their feet, clattering down the cliff, causing them all to pause until it finally it the bottom. As they had noted from the top, there was very little in the way of hand holds on the way down, so each ilvar had to flatten themselves against the stony edifice. As she always did, Illora had seen them safely to their destination, though Tarafen was unsure rather that was a good thing in this case. Though he did his best to hide it, the unnatural aura that permeated this fell place was beginning to fill him with a distinct sense of dread.

The sooner they were finished their business in here, the better.

“Finally,” Seonid let out a sigh of relief as she stepped foot on the rocky ground in the bottom of the chasm.

She had been in the rear of the party as they made their slow way down the ledge, watching every misstep made by her companions. The auburn haired cal’ilvar joined the others in stretching sore muscles, releasing the tension that had built up in their muscles on the long climb.

Tarafen eyed the four other ilvarri, noting with concern the way they barely seemed able to stand. Exhaustion, it seemed, had at last caught up with them. They needed to rest.

The lun’ilvar captain surveyed their surroundings, squinting in the faint light offered by the twilight above.

Much like the terrain they had traversed on the surface for the past day, the bottom of the chasm was a mostly barren waste of rocks and dirt. The only real difference he could see upon initial inspection were the sheer rock-faces that rose on all sides around them, and the seemingly shallow river that bubbled along beside them, running parallel to the walls of the cliffs. He stepped over to the river and dipped a hand in it, exalting in the refreshing coolness of the water after spending all day walking in the hot sun above, with nary any shade to offer protection or reprieve, save for the odd overhang.

Tarafen untied his water-skin from his belt and, removing the cork, took a long drink, emptying the skin of all the water that had remained from their afternoon break under the rocky overhang. Only a few mouthfuls remained, but after a day of rationing their water, it soothed his parched throat in a way he had never imagined simple water could. He knelt and filled his skin in the running water, trusting that the waters of the river would be good to drink. The others joined him by the water’s edge, filling their own water-skins and soothing their sun-kissed skin as they splashed it on their faces and cracked skin.

He enjoyed the refreshing coolness of the running water on his skin for a moment longer, exalting as rivulets of moisture ran down his narrow face, washing the dirt of the road from his sunburned silver-blue skin, not minding as it ran beneath his wooden breastplate and soaked the padding beneath. After the long day of heat, it felt good to have the padding cooled, even if it meant it was wet—it was better than having it soaked in sweat. It was refreshing, to say the least. Regretfully, after splashing his face once more and washing the sweat and grime from his bare forearms, he stood from his crouch, giving his own muscles a much needed stretch after the long climb down, and the even longer day and night that had preceded the climb.

The ilvar returned to the shore, noting that the others were likewise cooling off in the gently flowing waters of the canyon river, their packs discarded on the shore. Even Erothel looked less miserable as the sol’ilvar splashed water across his orange-bronze face, putting up a block arm and laughing as Teirin splashed water up at him.

Only Illora remained on the shore, studying the ground near where they had descended. He made his way over to where she crouched, trying to discern what she was seeing. All he could make out in the dim light was rocks, scattered all around them in a tumble. Grey, black, and red granite, yellow-grey limestone, and off-white… he peered closer to rake a look at one of the yellowed, off-white rocks.

No, they are not just rocks, he realized with a start, nudging one with a foot to better see the eye sockets, skulls.

Sure enough, as he peered at the ground around them, he saw more wind-worn skulls and bone fragments he saw, half buried and sticking out of the ground all around them. Part of a ribcage here, a femur there, and half a skeleton some distance away, crushed beneath a large boulder.

Tarafen thought of Illora’s tale of the Torrent and climbing out of this miserable place and barely suppressed a shutter. He could only imagine the strength of will it had taken for her to lead them back down into this place, where she had seen so many of their kin die in an instant.

He could not begin to fathom the mental fortitude she would need to lead them even further.

“I cannot be absolutely certain, but it looks like they went this way, shahara,” Illora’s voice broke him from his thoughts, and he glanced at her, seeing only grim determination and resolve shining in her pale blue eyes.

Oh yes, she was made of sterner stuff than he, he knew beyond a doubt as he met her gaze.

He looked the way she gestured, still not seeing any tracks, but trusting her implicitly

“Towards the river,” he asked, honestly not sure if that was what she meant.

“Yes,” she began following signs that only sh could see, leading him to the water’s edge, near where the others still washed their exposed skin, “They went in… after that, I cannot be sure.”

“They?” Tierin’s head swung towards her as he asked the question, haveing caught her qualification.

“There is more than one set of tracks,” the tracker admitted, staring Tarafen in the eyes, “many more. Over a dozen, I would say with confidence. Some may be older, but on this terrain I cannot tell for sure.”

“A dozen?” Erothel exclaimed, and Tarafen sighed, easily anticipating what was going through the sol’ilvar’s mind at Illora’s report. His next words were no surprise then, “Shahara, we must turn back. The five of us are no match for twelve of those beasts, even were we not tired.”

Tarafen eyed the sol’ilvar, finding to his surprise that he could not disagree with him. For them to follow and kill one wounded gal’roth was one thing, to fight twelve or more hale and healthy was another entirely. But still, he would not let this pursuit have been for nothing.

He could not.

Thinking about it, he made a quick decisions, he made a decision that chafed, but knew would be the right one in the long run. He would be in enough trouble already upon their return to Sildar Istan. There was no reason to take even more unnecessary and, more importantly in this case, unsanctioned risks by attempting to take on a band of gal’roth who could number more than their handful.

But did the gal’roth outnumber them?

He needed to be sure.

The others were waiting for his response; none had spoken since Erothel had said his piece, instead opting to see how Tarafen would respond. He studied each of their faces, seeing a mix of determination and apprehension on each, with an undertone of exhaustion.

Illora and Seonid’s faces had an unusual reddish tinge to them, turning Illora’s usually silvery-blue skin a shade of purple, while Seonid’s ash grey features were the colour of ripe cherries thanks to their long time in the sun, and from the heat in his cheeks and forehead, Tarafen assumed he looked similar to Illora. Their peoples, the lun’ilvar and cal’ilvar, were not used to being out in the sun without shade for long periods of time. Erothel and Teirin had faired better, their sol’ilvar blood giving them an innate resilience to the harsh rays of the sun, hailing as their forebears did from Firegrass Forest in the days before the Scouring and subsequent reunification of the three ilvar peoples. Though he was a little jealous of their resilience to the sun, Tarafen was grateful for it, for he wondered how much worse Erothel’s mood would be had he, too, been kissed by the sun.

He had asked a lot of his company, his fellow members in Shien’tar, and they had followed him far beyond what he had any right to expect of them. He was beyond grateful for that, and was again reminded of how proud he was to have been granted leadership of this group of ilvarri—these, and those who had already returned to Sildar Istan and beyond to Shara’neth itself by now, he hoped.

Yes, he had probably asked too much of these ilvarri already, he knew.

And now he would ask even more.

More than he had any right to ask, he knew, and he would not be surprise if any outright refused him, and would not hold it against any who did.

But Illora’s report concerned him.

Though gal’roth were occasionally seen along the borders of Shetna, and even within the forest at times, they usually numbered no more than a handful. Deadly, as the massacre at *insert name here* proved all too vividly, but nothing to be too concerned about. For Illora to think there could be more than a dozen…

They could not leave until they had either confirmed or disproved her suspicions.

“You’re right, Erothel,” he began, and he thought Erothel’s jaw would fall into the river at the admission. Tarafen doubted that disbelief would last as he continued, “We cannot hope to take on that many by ourselves, especially in our current state. Even with being fully rested, I am not sure that we could take on a dozen our own. Even were the rest of our patrol here, we would be hard pressed to beat them.”

Erothel was nodding, clearly pleased to hear Tarafen say as much. The sol’ilvar began moving towards the shore—to gather his pack, Tarafen suspected. The others remained where they were, waiting for him to continue.

“However,” Tarafen continued, the word freezing Erothel in his tracks; the sol’ilvar turned back towards him, face carefully neutral, “We cannot leave until we determine exactly how many gal’roth there are in this group.”

“But you just said—” Erothel began to protest, but Tarafen talked over him.

“We need to find this band, and see how many there are in it. We will not,” he focused on Erothel, whose face had darkened once more as he went on, “engage the gal’roth, only observe them before we leave this accursed place and return to Shetna Forest.”

“We do not even know which way they went,” Erothel pointed out as soon as Tarafen had stopped talking, “Nor even if the one we seek is with this band!”

Tarafen looked to Illora, not able to refute the argument on his own.

“The tracks led straight from the bottom of the rock shelf to the water, and I could see the creature’s tracks clearly at the top,” Illora explained, crossing her arms in front of her as she stared hard at the sol’ilvar, not thrilled at having to explain herself to him, “I checked the bottom of the trail thoroughly while you all splashed around in the water, and there were no other tracks heading off in any other direction. So we can be confident that our quarry at least went the same direction as the others. As for which direction they went…” she looked across the river, to the opposite bank, “I cannot say for certain.”

“So we’ve lost it,” Erothel said in a dry voice as she paused for a breath, earning him a warning look from Teirin and a glare from Seonid.

“Temporarily, perhaps,” Tarafen admitted, but filled his voice with a forced confidence he did not quite feel as he looked to Illora, “But not for long.”

“The tracks lead into the water from the southwest, so it is probable they were headed northeast,” the lun’ilvar tracker said, picking up on his unspoken cue, “I hesitate to saw it, but we should split up. There is no guarantee they did not stay in the water and exit further up the river in either direction. Two of us should cross to the other side of the river and search for sign of the creature’s passage there. The rest of us should search this side for the same.”

Tarafen was nodding as she spoke, not particularly liking the idea of splitting the group up, but understanding the need to cover more ground quickly. He eyed the other three members of the group; Teirin and Seonid looked haggard, but looked back at him expectantly nonetheless, waiting for his commands. Erothel, on the other hand, returned the captains look with a cool one of his own, standing with his arms crossed across his chest. Tarafen suppressed a sigh at the sol’ilvar’s continued impertinence, and made a mental note to talk to Erothel once they had returned to the forest. For now, he needed a break from the argumentative sol’ilvar, and so he came to a decision.

“You will be able to see where the creatures left the river?” he directed the question at Teirin.

“Yes, shahara,” Teirin nodded, “Not as well as Illora, but I should be able to find any tracks easily enough, though the low light will make it more difficult.”

“Good. You and Erothel will cross to the far side and search for any sign of the creatures,” he ordered, “Head downstream, if that is the direction Illora thinks they will have gone. If you find anything, use the usual method to alert us.”

After Illora, Teirin was their next best tracker, and close friends with Erothel besides. Though both were of sol’ilvar descent, Teirin did not have the hot-headed temperament of their kin that Erothel had inherited in spades, and indeed seemed to have a calming influence on the younger sol’ilvar. He hoped that by sending them together, the taller sol’ilvar would be able to talk to Erothel and calm him some.

Teirin saluted and moved quickly back to the shore to grab both his and Erothel’s discarded packs. Erothel remained where he had stood, staring hard at Tarafen. The captain suppressed a sigh, sensing the coming protest.

Sure enough, Teirin had just reached their bags when the irritated sol’ilvar demanded hotly, “And how long are we to search?”

Tarafen let out a deep breath and closed his eyes as he pinched the bridge of his nose, willing himself to remain calm in the face of the sol’ilvar’s continued impertinence.

“As long as we need to,” he said, meeting Erothel’s cool gaze with a level one of his own.

Before he could say another word, the sol’ilvar was grunting as Teirin shoved Erothel’s discarded pack into his chest, not slowing as he muttered, “Come on, Erothel,” and began wading into the deeper waters in the middle of the river. With an exasperated sigh, Erothel slung his pack across his shoulders, gave Tarafen another disapproving glance, and followed his fellow sol’ilvar into the water.

Tarafen watched as the two sol’ilvar waded across the river, unsurprised by Erothel’s unimpressed reaction, but not really bothered by it. The sol’ilvar had been questioning him from the moment they had left the forest, and he had become strangely apathetic towards him. The fact that none of the others had questioned his reasoning reassured him that he had made the right choice. Illora had almost jumped down the sol’ilvar’s throat when he had questioned her logic, and he was under no delusions that she would hesitate to do the same to him if she deemed it necessary—none of them would.

And he would not have it any other way.

He glanced at the dimming orange sky high above, noting that only the top fifth of the eastern wall remained uncovered by shadow. The day was almost over. He returned his attention to Illora and Seonid, both of whom watched him silently.

“The three of us will check downstream on this bank,” he said, though he knew they would have figured that much out already, “Hopefully—”

“Apologies, shahara,” Illora cut him off, drawing both his and Seonid’s attention to her, “But I think it best if I go on alone. I can move swifter and quieter on my own than with anyone else in tow.”

Brushing a strand of his silver-blond hair from his face, Tarafen considered her request for a long moment, not liking the idea of anyone going off on their own, yet unable to refute her claim. Compared to her, all the rest of them were as clumsy and loud as the gal’roth appeared to them in the forest. He nodded begrudgingly, “So long as you check in with us often.”

“I will leave signs for you to follow, I do not feel like running back each time. I am sure the two of you will fall far behind before long,” a hint of her usual mischievous nature shone through her exhaustion for a moment.

“Fair enough,” Tarafen nodded in acceptance of the compromise, though he still did not like it.

The decision made, the lun’ilvar captain turned his attention to the river, to where the two sol’ilvar were just reaching the other side, emerging from the water onto the eastern shore. Teirin looked back and waved an arm; Tarafen waved his own in response, and watched as the pair began heading north, following the flow of the water, Teirin hunching low to better see the ground in the dim light while Erothel kept watch behind him.

His attention fixed on the pair on the other side of the river, Tarafen missed the motion as Illora arched an eyebrow at Seonid in silent question, eyes flitting between Tarafen and the sol’ilvar.

He missed, too, Seonid’s responding nod.

With a satisfied nod, the lun’ilvar tracker set off to see if she could find tracks on the western bank of the river, confident that her friend would do her best to help settle things between Tarafen and Erothel before the brewing conflict boiled over.

The splashing of her boots in the shallow water at the river’s edge pulled Tarafen’s attention back to his side of the river. He watched her take off, inspecting the ground as she went for any sign of disturbance. He made to follow, but stopped as Seonid put a hand on his arm. He raised a questioning eyebrow at her.

“Erothel is not wrong,” she said quietly, earning her a confused look from the young captain.

“You were harder on him than any of us when we stopped beneath that outcropping earlier!”

“We still had a clear trail to follow then, and had not yet run ourselves to the point of exhaustion,” she replied calmly, meeting his eyes as she added, “Now even Illora is uncertain of the creature’s path.”

“So we should give up our pursuit and let the creature get away?” he snapped before he could stop himself.

“Of course not!” she was quick to defend herself in the face of his anger, “I am only pointing out that our chances of succeeding are lower than they have ever been, and getting lower by the second… It may be time to turn back, whether we find the creatures or not. I do not disagree that we should determine how many there are, if we can, but… If Illora is correct, then we will find ourselves sorely outnumbered. Even more so since…” she trailed off, not finishing her thought, but Tarafen was able to figure out where her true concerns lay.

“You are worried about the others,” he stated; Seonid nodded. He moved closer and placed a hand on her shoulder, catching her eyes with his own, “They will have made it back by now. Casgin and Kan’il will be well on the med by the time we return.”

“You cannot know that.”

“No, but Hasfid and Shara will not let anything more happen to them,” he replied with confidence, fully believing what he said. He and Hasfid may not always see eye to eye, but he knew the sol’ilvar would see the others to safety.

“And what about Aelith? Her wounds will not heal so quickly.”

Tarafen could not suppress a wince at the reminder of the young recruit. She spoke true, he knew; Aelith had a long road ahead of her, but he had faith that she, too, would be on the road to recovery before long. Seeing Falorn’s body put to rest would help with that.

“No,” he said, smoothing his features, “But she will heal as well, and will be stronger for it in the end. Especially with you, Shara, and Illora to help her through it—as you helped all of us after the mardrek incident,” he added with a tired smile, letting his hand drop from her shoulder.

The cal’ilvar just nodded in response, and Tarafen was pleased to see a small smile playing at the edge of her mouth at his reminder of the disastrous encounter with a pack of feral mardrek several years before. It had been that incident that had lead to both Hasfid’s demotion and his own subsequent promotion to shahara. Seonid’s smile faded as quickly as it had appeared as the reality of their current situation set back in. She hugged herself as she dared to believe that Tarafen was correct and that Aelith would come back from her grief and be a better warrior for it, in spite of her grievous loss.

“We should try to catch up to Illlora,” the captain said at length, staring off in the direction she had headed off in; Seonid nodded, snapping a quick salute, and the two ilvar readied their packs.

They fell into silence as a light breeze blew threw the ravine from the northeast, rustling their clothes as they began picking their way along the shoreline, stepping carefully to avoid stepping on the skulls and bones scattered amongst the rocks, hoping to hear the sharp trills that would mean any of the three who had gone ahead had found some sign of their quarry. What little light had remained when the group had entered the chasm disappeared as the sun set fully on the broken plain above, leaving with nothing but the pale light of the stars to see with until the Twins rose in the night sky.

In spite of that, they dared not light a torch or make a fire for fear of guiding their enemy to them, instead of the other way around, and so their progress slowed even more as they followed the river, their thoughts on their distant companions, hoping that they had made it back to Shara’neth by now.

* * *

“We should never have entered this damnable place,” Erothel continued the nearly endless litany he had been spouting since they had crossed the river, glaring at a nearby partially buried skull.

Teirin glanced back at him and rolled his eyes, not bothering to respond as he continued his search for any sign of the gal’roth’s passage.

“It’s not that I don’t regret what happened to Falorn,” the shorter of the two sol’ilvar continued when his complaint was met with nothing but silence, “But the creature is long gone from our borders, and even longer from our sight. At this point, we will not be able to tell if any gal’roth we find is the same one who killed Falorn, or some other beast.”

“Does it matter?”

“What?” Erothel could not hide his surprise that Teirin had actually responded to him.

“Does it matter whether or not it is the same gal’roth? Either way, it is still an abomination, and the world will be a better place with even one less of them in it,” Teirin stood from where he had been crouching to inspect an indentation in the ground and turned to Erothel in the darkness, “That’s not the point, anyways.”

Erothel waited for him to go on, not sure where his friend was going with this.

Teirin rolled his eyes again as he sighed before explaining, “Under his leadership, a new recruit has been killed. Not only that, but this is the first time Shahara Maramas has ever lost any under his command. He feels responsible for Falorn’s death.”

“But that’s ridiculous! Falorn’s death was not Tarafen’s fault—the recruit was not prepared for the fight. His inability to defend himself against the attacks of the gal’roth show that he should not have been out with us in the first place, not that Tarafen failed as a leader,” Erothel protested, unable to help himself. Though he had disagreed with most of the captain’s choices since their initial investigation at Sillar’neth, Erothel could not bring himself to put the blame for Falorn’s death squarely on his shoulders. They had been through too much together since their days in Esta’vellan for that. In spite of their differences, Erothel truly respected Tarafen and wanted him to succeed.

That did not mean he agreed with all his choices, though, nor that he would hesitate to call the Tarafen out when he felt he had erred. Like all lun’ilvar, Tarafen had a tendency to always assume he was right, and dig his heels in stubbornly when faced with any opposition. It was a failing the sol’ilvar and, to a lesser extent, the cal’ilvar had overcome, and Erothel fervently hoped this particular lun’ilvar would lose some of his arrogance soon.

“Shahara Maramas,” Teirin stressed the formal title, “clearly feels that he should have realized the scope of Falorn’s unpreparedness better—and Aelith too, for that matter. And because he did not plan for it, Falorn is dead. He is carrying the weight of Falorn’s death with him, and that is what drove him to enter Holth Adur in the first place, and what drives him still. He thinks that killing the creature responsible for Falorn’s death will help assuage some of his guilt. Plus,” he added as an afterthought as he turned to continue his search, “it delays him returning to Shara’neth.”

“Why should that matter?”

Silence was the only answer he got as Teirin refocused on the hunt, peering through slitted eyes at the dark ground in the starlit night.

Erothel opened his mouth to ask the question again, then thought better of it, realizing his friend needed to focus all his attentions on finding the beast. He watched Teirin scour the riverbank for any signs of passage, mulling over the older sol’ilvar’s words, realizing that Teirin had likely more or less accurately described what Tarafen was going through.

Not that that excused them coming to Holth Adûr.

But though Tarafen had always played fairly loose and heavy with the rules, Erothel knew that he would not normally have lead his company into this fell place. The sol’ilvar had served with Tarafen since their days in training together at Esta’vellan over a quarter century before, and while it was true that he often questioned his orders, it was not from lack of belief in the lun’ilvar. It was true he had initially viewed the other ilvar’s promotion as nothing more than a stroke of luck following the incident with the Mardrek, but he knew better than that. In spite of his failings, the lun’ilvar was not unfit for command.

Perhaps he was being too rough on him this time.

Their once close friendship had been inevitably strained by his friends sudden promotion over him. Tarafen often overruled his suggestions, or just outright ignored them, as had happened earlier when he had voiced his concerns. For some reason, it just galled more when it was Tarafen that did it than when any other commander did the same. Usually the shahara was open to suggestions and criticisms from those under him, but today was closed off. Erothel supposed that was in large part due to Falorn’s death.

As Teirin had pointed out, they had never lost on of their own under his command before.

Perhaps Tarafen had not only brought them here merely to avenge their fallen comrade, but also to give the blond-haired ilvar more time to come to grips with what had happened before they returned to Shara’neth and had to face the deceased ilvar’s family, as well as their superiors in Shien’tar. There was also the matter of Tarafen’s father, the sol’ilvar supposed. The lun’ilvar’s father was a prominent member of the ruling council of Shetna Forest, and for once having a father in such a prominent position did not seem like as much of a blessing as it usually did.

In spite of himself, some small part of Erothel had always believed that, despite Tarafen’s skills, tactical knowledge, and valour in the fight with the rabid mardrek those decades ago, he had been granted a promotion mostly because of his father’s standing. Yet now, the downside of such a situation was growing increasingly evident to him.

He resolved to put aside his own misgivings about the whole situation and help his old friend get past this. Whatever happened when they returned to Shara’neth, whatever punishment was leveled at Tarafen—and at them all—for entering Holth Adûr was still a while off.

They had to leave this place first.

After they found the gal’roth and—hopefully—dealt with it.

Nodding to himself, he opened his mouth to say as much to Teirin, only then realizing that the other sol’ilvar had moved ahead quite a ways, seeming as no more than a shadow amongst shadows as he had continued the search while Erothel had gotten lost in his thoughts. Glancing across the river in the dim light that reached down from the darkening sky above them, he saw that the other three had moved along too, and he could not see them. Ahead, the river and canyon turned a bend, and he assumed they had already moved around it in their search; Illora would almost certainly be moving faster than the less experienced Teirin, after all. The younger sol’ilvar cursed softly under his breath at his inattentiveness and began jogging to catch the other ilvar up, trying to move as silently as possible over the uneven terrain so as to not disturb the other ilvar as he scoured the ground for tracks or any other sign of their adversary.

As he approached the other ilvar, Erothel again opened his mouth to tell his friend his decision, and to thank him for his words of reason, when a sound reached his ears: a clacking, as if two stones striking one another, echoed off the sheer walls of the ravine. He stopped short and looked around, trying to discern the source of the sound.

He caught a flicker of movement from ahead of them, but as he shifted his regard here it disappeared around the corner before he could fully focus on it.

It had appeared tall, however. Taller than any in their party.

He glanced to Teirin.

Absorbed in his search right beside the gurgling water of the river, the other sol’ilvar seemed as if he had not noticed the movement or the sound. Erothel padded quickly over the large rocks that strewn the ground between them, careful to avoid any that looked too similar to skulls. He tapped his friend on the shoulder, silencing him with a warning look and finger to his lips as he inclined his head to the side, in the direction he had seen the movement in silent answer to Teirin’s questioning look.

Teirin nodded his understanding and slowly stood from his crouch, turning as he did so he was facing the direction Erothel had indicated. The trackers hand crept towards his bow instinctively, but partway there he instead dropped it to the hilt of one of his long knifes, drawing the polished blackwood blade out as he seemingly decided he did not have enough light to properly aim in. Erothel likewise drew his blackwood longsword, curved slightly at the tip. Both blades shimmered slightly in the reflected rays of what little light still reached the river beside them.

With a nod to one another, the two sol’ilvar set off towards the bend, stepping carefully across the spray slicked stones along the river’s edge; Teirin, with his keener vision, led the way.

It took a handful of minutes to reach the rocky cliff face just before the bend, though it had stood no more than fifty paces from where Erothel had alerted Teirin, largely due to the fact that they had tried to moves as silently as possible, both sol’ilvar wincing whenever a rock or bone shifted underfoot. Neither heard any further noises from around the bend, though both listened intently, their multilobed ears straining to pick up any sound.

A few feet from the corner, Teirin motioned for Erothel to wait, then continued to creep forward stealthily forward, poking his head around the corner slowly to take a look.

He paused for several long seconds, his head turning this way and that as Erothel held his breath behind him. Then he glanced back at Erothel, mouthed “all clear”, and stood before moving out of sight around the corner, sheathing his knife as he went. Following his companion’s lead, Erothel sheathed his longsword at his side once more, and moved to follow.

He stopped short at the clatter of more rocks, followed by a grunt, both emanating from around the corner.

Where Teirin had gone.

Cursing under his breath once more—why had the shahara split the party up?—he drew his sword once more and, taking a breath to steady his frayed nerves, moved quickly around the corner, blade held up defensively, expecting to find Teirin sprawled on the ground.

Instead, he fell back in surprise as a lithe form rushed out from behind a nearby boulder, startling him.

In the dim light, it took him a long moment to recognize his ‘attacker,’ and when he did, he scowled, slamming his blade back into it’s sheath.

“Aren’t you supposed to be on the other side?” he asked the grinning Illora, his voice a harsh whisper as he pushed past her, eyes scanning around for where Teirin had gone.

“There was nothing there for quite a distance,” she said lightly, her voice louder than his had been, “So I crossed over and worked my way back to see what was taking the two of you so long. Imagine my surprise when I found you chatting idly, as if we were back in the safety of the forest instead of this damned place. So I figured I should remind you to stay on your guard while we are here,” she finished, crossing her arms and arching a narrow eyebrow at him.

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“So you found no sign of the gal’roth then?” Teirin asked before Erothel could come up with a retort, stepping out from behind the same boulder Illora had, giving his friend an apologetic look and a shrug as Erothel shifted his glare to him.

“Not until I crossed over. There is a cave mouth a little ways down the canyon,” she pointed downstream, in the same direction they had been heading, “Not far, only half a league or so.”

“And?” Teirin prompted, hearing something in the lun’ilvar woman’s voice that told him there was more she was left unsaid.

“It’s difficult to say for certain, since the shadows down here make it almost impossible to see clearly more than a few paces in front of you, but it looked as though there was more than one set of tracks leading in. Dozens, at least, though most were older than the rest. The closer I got to the entrance, the more there were, and the more difficult it was to distinguish one set from the other. I was coming back to retrieve Seonid and the shahara when I came across the two of you.”

“They let you go ahead on your own?” Erothel asked in disbelief, “Down here?”

“I convinced the shahara of the wisdom of letting my go on alone,” Illora corrected, giving him a look, “I can move faster on my own, not that I need to explain mine or Shahara Maramas’ decisions to you, Erothel.”

Erothel bristled at her words and the tone in which she said them.

“You are sure the gal’roth we seek is inside?” Teirin asked before his friend could respond, asking the question only to diffuse the situation, since he well knew she would not make such a claim if she were not.

She nodded, not taking her eyes off Erothel as she drummed the fingers of one hand on her other arm.

“Then I will carry word to the shahara,” Teirin stated, and both his companions turned their attention to him, “And I will bring him and Seonid here.”

“It is better that I go,” Illora argued, “The shahara may have questions, questions I could answer.”

Teirin was shaking his head before she had finished, “Only you know exactly where the cave entrance is, and neither Erothel nor I can see as well as you can in the dark. You need to be nearby in case the creature—or creatures—decide to leave the cave once more.”

“Then we should send Erothel to retrieve the others. You can see better than he, and can help keep watch.”

“He will be of more use to you here than I,” Teirin stated, indicating the shield that was strapped across Erothel’s back, adding with a note of finality, “It is best that I go.”

“Very well,” she relented after a long moment of thought, unable to dispute his logic, “But we will wait further ahead, and on the other side of the river. It will offer us some measure of protection should they emerge.”

Teirin nodded his acknowledgment, patting Erothel on the shoulder as he passed him to start on his way back upstream.

“Hurry back,” Illora said as he reached the corner, “I wish to be back in Shetna as soon as we are able. The sooner we are out of this place, the better.”

“We all do,” Erothel added under his breath as Teirin nodded and disappeared back around the corner, making hardly a sound as he departed.

Illora eyed him for a long moment, then jerked her head the way she had come, “Let us be off.”

She was on the move before he could respond, passing lightly and quickly over the stones and bones that littered the riverbank, glancing back to make sure he was following behind her. Before too long, they reached a shallower part in the river, and she lead him across, taking care to splash the water as little as possible as they stepped through it. Once on the other bank, she lead him around another corner. He came around it to find that the canyon widened considerably.

The river hugged the far wall, while on their side, a field of large boulders, some several times taller than he, covered the ground, as if part of the cliff wall had collapsed.

And it very well could have, he realized as he considered just how this series of chasms had been formed.

Illora came to a stop beside a large boulder at the edge of the field, sliding her pack from her shoulder and laying her bow beside it. Erothel looked around, trying to see where the cave was in the darkness that had descended fully upon them since they had split off from Teirin, but was unable to make out much of anything. Though stars twinkled far above, the only indication of where the edges of the cliffs were high above, the twin moons had not yet risen to offer their meager light.

“Where is the cave?” he asked at length, giving up on finding it on his own.

Arching an eyebrow at him, Illora pointed across the river—the opposite direction he had been facing. He felt his face flush at her gesture, remembering that she had said that she had onlyed darker than the rest of the nondescript dark limestone rock that made up the wall of the cliff.

He gave Illora a nod to let her know he had seen it, then, eyeing the boulder in front of them, climbed up it to gain a better vantage point. He glanced down to see Illora staring up at him, and he reached a hand down to her.

* * *

Illora eyed the offered hand without moving for a long minute, during which she saw that Erothel grew increasingly annoyed.

That pleased her, probably more than it should have.

The sol’ilvar had been even more frustrating during the course of the day than he normally was, acting as if he alone did not want to be here.

That could not have been further from the truth.

Every step she had taken since leaving the forest had seemed heavier than the one previous, especially since their descent into the chasm. She remembered all too clearly her escape from this very canyon on dorreth’nich, making her way past the corpses of hundreds of dead, human and ilvarri alike, many too mutilated to be able to tell to which species they belonged.

No, she did not want to be here either.

But she was also determined to avenge Falorn, and that determination overrode her desire to be out of this accursed place. And to her thinking, if she could stomach being here, then so too could any of the others. If any one of them had a right to complain, it was her.

Not that she would.

Deciding that she had made the impatient sol’ilvar wait long enough, she bent down to pick up her bow and her pack, passing both to him before easily scaling the rough side of the boulder, climbing up beside Erothel in short order, ignoring his hand as he again offered it to help her up.

Shrugging, Erothel stood as she reached the top and moved to the far side of the top of the boulder, which stretched over a dozen feet across, and was more than twenty paces long, easily. The sol’ilvar found a bumpy protrusion in the rock surface and unslung his bow, shield and pack, setting them down beside it before siting down himself, leaning his back against the upright stone with a groan.

The lun’ilvar woman followed his lead, collecting her belongings from where Erothel had set them before finding a comfortable looking piece of stone that jutted up from the surface of the boulder and settling herself against it, placing her belongings beside her. She untied her canteen from her belt and unstoppered it, taking a long drink of the cool, refreshing water within it before closing her eyes, allowing herself a brief moment of relaxation and respite. She opened her pale blue eyes after a few seconds, knowing she could not allow herself to get too complacent, especially after her earlier chastisement of her companion for doing the same.

Sure enough, when she glanced over at him, she found the sol’ilvar focused on her, a knowing grin just visible on his bronze face.

Giving him a look, she replaced the stopper in the mouth of the canteen and placed it beside her, looking across the river to where the cave opening lay. For all that she did have keener sight than the others in the group, even she could not see more than the vague outline of the opening in the low light of the chasm floor. She looked up to stare at the narrow band of starts that were visible between the two upper edges of the cliff on either side, hoping that the moons would appear soon to add their light to that of the stars. Sighing, she returned her attention to where she knew the mouth of the cave to be.

They sat in silence for a long while as they waited for their companions to arrive, neither wanting to talk lest the creatures inside here them. Truth be told, neither had the energy nor desire for conversation either, and both were equally content to sit and watch without speaking. Both ilvar took the time to eat some dried fruit and nuts as they waited, letting the soothing sounds of the canyon river calm them as they recovered some strength. A slight breeze blew through the canyon, carrying the cool night air feeling good on their skin after running for the better part of two days without anything even resembling a suitable break.

The longer they waited, the more Illora had to struggle to keep her eyes open. Hearing soft, rhythmic breathing coming from her left, she glanced over to see Erothel’s head drooping as he lost the battle against his own weariness, succumbing to sleep. She thought about waking him, but immediately dismissed the notion. If he could find some actual rest, let him. So long as one of them remained awake and watching, they would be fine.

Besides, she did not think she would be able to sleep restfully here even if she wanted to.

She was not sure how much time had passed before she heard footsteps and soft voices from around the corner, alerting her of the approach of the rest of their company, but she did not think it had been overly long. Resignedly, she stood up and stretched out her muscles, finding that that they had began to stiffen during the break as she crossed to Erothel, shaking the sol’ilvar gently.

By the time Teirin led Tarafen and Seonid around the corner, both ilvarri atop the boulder were on their feet, brushing themselves off and readying themselves to get going once more.

Once she was ready, she glanced down to see that Teirin had spotted them atop the boulder, and now led Tarafen and Seonid towards it’s base. Without a backwards glance, though both had surely enjoyed the much-needed respite, she and Erothel climbed down from their perch, muscles aching and complaining with every motion, turning to greet the others as they reached them.

Tarafen said nothing as he approached, simply giving her a weary, questioning look. She responded in kind, pointing across the shallow river towards the mouth of the cave. The shahara looked hard in the indicated direction for several moments, blinking his tired eyes as if that would help him see, then looked helplessly at the tracker once more.

“It’s there,” she assured him in a soft voice, Teirin nodding that he, too, could see it from behind their captain.

Tarafen, for his part, merely nodded in response, not bothering to look again, his trust in her evident even in the darkness that surrounded them.

“There has been no movement, nor any sounds from within,” Illora spoke again when it became clear that Tarafen was not going to say anything, “I found a set of tracks leading towards the entrance, but as I got closer, it was joined by many, many others, all confused with one another. Maybe with more light, I could determine with certainty whether the monster we seek is in there, but as it is, all I can say with any certainty is that there is more than one of the abominations within,” she left unspoken the fact that she had been unwilling to light a torch to see better for fear of drawing unwanted attention from within, in no small part because it seemed assured that the creature had found more of its fellows within.

She fidgeted slightly as she waited for a response; they all did, she noted. They were eager to be on with it, and eager to get out of this place.

But still Tarafen gave no response.

* * *

Tarafen was silent a moment as he considered the information, a process that took longer than it should due to his overwhelming sense of exhaustion. His thoughts stumbled constantly as he tried to formulate a plan based on what Illora had told him, and what he knew of the gal’roth.

The edge of one of the moons began creeping out from behind the northern cliff wall, shedding more light into the chasm, and Tarafen took advantage of the added illumination, slight though it was, to examine the faces of his four companions.

What he saw did not surprise him overly much.

Each of his companions looked as exhausted as he felt, yet each wore an expression of grim determination now that they had seemingly found their quarry. Even Erothel looked ready to march on into the cave, and he wondered at that briefly, then chastised himself for it. For all that the sol’ilvar could be obstinate and a pain in his side, he was fiercely loyal, and now that they were here, he would not speak against any course of action. He knew, then, that they had to go on.

They had come this far, after all. They would not turn back now, not until they knew the strength of their enemy.

The lun’ilvar reached into his belt pouch and produced two rough hewn fragments of quartz, each small enough to fit into the palm of an ilvar’s hand. He had hesitated to use them before, not wanting to make themselves more visible and thus easier for their enemy to find, but that had been when there was still some sunlight filtering down from above. Now, aside from the light of the moon, it was much darker. And it would be even more so within the cave.

“Illora, Teirin, take these and go scout out the cave,” he handed one of the stones to each of the trackers.

Both of them took the offered stones, recognizing them for what they were, and nodded at him. Each placed a hand on top of the fragment they held and whispered a command word. Each of the fragments began glowing with a soft, white light. Not very bright, but the stones gave off enough illumination that they would be able to see where they were going once they lost the light of the moons and stars within the complete darkness of the cave.

“Use them as you need, but cover them to minimize their glow lest you be seen.”

Nodding at his likely unnecessary instruction, Illora pulled a pouch from her belt and emptied it’s contents into another, then placed the still glowing quartz fragment within the confines of the thick fabric. She drew the drawstring tight and tied it shut it within, blocking the light effectively a she hung the pouch again from her belt. Beside her, Teirin followed her lead, returning the area to the darkness it had been in before. Tarafen blinked as his eyes readjusted to the absence of light, save for the dim light of the moon and stars.

“Do not engage the gal’roth, no matter how many or few you find. Even if you just find the one we seek, and it is sleeping, come back and report your findings so we can plan our next move,” he ordered, waiting for their nods of understanding before adding, “May Tristus guide your steps.”

Both ilvar slapped palms to their breasts and bowed their heads in salute before starting off, Illora leading the way since she had the better vision. The remaining three ilvarri watched as their companions crossed the river to the opposite bank, then moved maybe a hundred feet further up the ravine, their forms little more than vague shadows by this point. In fact, Tarafen had to squint to be able to see them at all against the dark cliff wall behind them, and was not sure that he would be able to see them at all had he not been watching their progress from the start.

He watched them until he could not see them any longer, and watched a little longer, looking for any hint of movement. Seeing none, he sighed and put his back to the boulder, sliding to the ground slowly, enjoying the feel of the cool stone against his sore back.

The lun’ilvar put his head in his hands and closed his eyes, allowing himself a moment to feel the exhaustion he had been feeling for the past day.

“Shahara.”

He lifted his head and fixed his amber eyes on Erothel, who was standing in front of him, a look of contrition on his face. Tarafen rubbed his tired eyes, not sure he was seeing correctly, for when had Erothel ever looked apologetic?

He motioned for the brown haired sol’ilvar to speak. Erothel hesitated a moment, dark eyes glancing to Seonid, who had likewise sat down with her back to the boulder and was now watching him intently. When she gave no indication of looking away, he let out a long breath and, looking uncomfortable, met Tarafen’s amber eyes.

“Shahara, I would like to apologize for my actions earlier. I… I was in the wrong. It is not my place to question your orders as I did, and,” his dark red eyes flitted to Seonid momentarily as he continued, remembering her words to him beneath the overhang earlier that day, “Falorn was one of us, no matter how short a time he served beside us. He may have lacked the proper experience, but he was our brother in Shien’tar nonetheless and we owe it to him to avenge him,” he said, placing his right palm above his heart and bowing his head as he finished.

Tarafen slowly stood, digesting the apology. He had not expected it, especially not at this time, while they were still deep within the chasms of Holth Adûr, and especially not from Erothel. He studied the sol’ilvar for a long moment, trying to decide the best response to the unexpected display of contrition from the stubborn sol’ilvar.

“You owe me no apology, Erothel,” he said at length as he, too, remembered his talk with Seonid earlier that evening. He chuckled lightly as the other ilvar raised his head in shock, “You merely voiced your concerns to me. Perhaps you could have done so in a… calmer manner, but… it has been a long day for all of us.”

“I—Thank you, Shahara,” Erothel said, saluting again, clearly relieved and pleased with the response he had received. The two of them butted heads quite often, after all, and reconciliation did not usually come so swiftly or easily. The sol’ilvar looked to Seonid, catching her small smile of satisfaction before she could hide it, and knew that she had interceded on his behalf once again, as she so often had when tensions rose between him and their captain. He gave her a grateful smile and moved to sit near her as he, too, settled in to wait for Teirin and Illora to return.

Tarafen watched as Erothel departed, having caught Seonid’s smile as well; he inclined his head to her in appreciation, and she nodded back as Erothel settled on the ground next her her, the two of them quickly falling into idle conversation.

With another glance in the direction of the cave, the lun’ilvar captain sat back down and closed his eyes once more, listening to the soft murmur of his companions voices as they talked to one another as he waited. His thought drifted to Hasfid and the others, thinking that they should have been well on their way back to Shara’neth by now, if they had not remained in Sildar Istan waiting for the rest of them to return. By now, Hasfid would likely have figured out that they had entered Holth Adûr and would not be pleased.

Neither would Setra’al Shione, for that matter.

Nor would Selunae, if she found out.

But he could not worry about that, not now. All that mattered to him in this moment was that they either killed the gal’roth that had slain Falorn, or they found out how many were within the cave.

As that last thought entered his mind, he prayed that he had not sent Illora and Teirin to their doom by sending them into the cave.

* * *

“They should have returned by now.”

Hasfid winced at the sharp-toned assertion, unable to argue against it no matter how much he desired to do so

He had been thinking much the same thing, after all.

That was the reason why he was once more standing atop the encircling wall of Sildar Istan, staring out to the west in hopes of seeing some sign of the absent members of the patrol.

It had been half a day since he had seen the others off from Sildar Istan under the midday sun amidst Aelith’s protests. Even encumbered with Falorn’s body and Kan’il’s still injured leg, they would be well on the way to Shara’neth by now. Perhaps they had even made it to Cadre by now, and were settling in the for the evening. He had suggested as much to Shara and Kan’il, and hoped they had listened to his advice, but doubted it. They were all too stubborn, after all. But regardless of their choice, they would he safe within the forest.

Tarafen and the others, however…

They should have returned long since.

Truth be told, they should have returned while Hasfid and his group were still making their slow way back to Sildar Istan in the night, finishing their grim task quickly and catching them up.

Long before the Shara and the others had departed.

The only reason Hasfid could think of for their continued absence was that the gal’roth had eluded them long enough to escape the confines of Shetna Forest and escape into the barren, blasted wastes of Holth Adûr. He had confirmed as much on the map in Setra’al Shione’s offices when he had met with the lun’ilvar commander earlier. If the creature had indeed entered that fell place, Tarafen and the others should have turned back, and thus should have returned hours ago.

Leaving Shetna without the express order of the Council was forbidden, after all.

Hasfid snorted softly at the thought, for when had something as trivial as permission from the Council ever stopped the brash young captain in the past?

He had seen the determined look in the younger ilvar’s amber eyes before the five ilvarri had split off from the rest of the patrol. Tarafen had wanted vengeance for the death of Falorn, there was no doubt about that.

But to enter Holth Adûr…

Would even Tarafen dare go so far?

Heaving a great sigh, he at last turned his attention to the tall, raven-haired lun’ilvar maiden who stood beside him atop the protective palisade. Her deep violet eyes stared unblinking at the forest in the direction that the remainder of the patrol should many hours ago have emerged from, as if she could see through the thick trunks of the ancient ashai, oak, maple, and elm that populate this part of the forest.

“They will return shortly, Selunae,” he replied, trying to imbue his tone with a confidence he did not feel in that instant.

He saw immediately that he had failed as the lun’ilvar gave a him a look of utter exasperation, crossing her arms before her.

“That’s what you have been saying since your own return half a day ago, Hasfid,” Selunae reminded him, a hint of reproach in her melodic voice.

“I know,” Hasfid sighed once more and dropped his eyes, unable to meet her piercing gaze for any length of time.

“They should have been back by now,” she stated again.

“Yes,” the sol’ilvar agreed simply.

“You said that the creature was wounded?”

“We have been over this, Selunae,” his light brown eyes tracked through the shadows that stretched beneath the encircling trees, looking for any hint of movement that could be the returning ilvarri, “The creature fled with Aelith’s spear embedded within it. It should have been a quick pursuit.”

“And yet they have not returned.”

“And yet they have not returned,” he repeated her words, unable to keep a hint of concern from his own tired voice as he did.

The lun’ilvar woman was silent a moment in the wake of his response, and he made no move to break that silence, grateful for the reprieve. What more need be said, after all?

It was dusk, and there was still no sign of the rest of the patrol.

In his mind, they had either encountered more of the creatures and been overwhelmed, or they had left the forest in pursuit of their wounded quarry. Neither prospect was encouraging, but if the latter were the case, he knew that it was likely that none of the ilvarri would return. The experienced warrior knew that the chasms of the Holth Adûr were home to hundreds or even thousands of the cursed creatures.

Many more than the party of five could hope to handle on their own.

Those beasts were supposed to all be sleeping under the geas woven at the end of the Emergence, following the end of the war against the beasts, or at the very least trapped behind the wards erected by the spellsingers of Aracos and the human magi of Cedirc, but the recent increase in gal’roth sightings and activity had made him wonder about the integrity both those enchantments. If even one had failed…

Once more, he fervently hoped that Tarafen had not been brash and left the safety of the forest.

But, just as Tarafen had decided to pursue the band of gal’roth from Silla’neth when they had found that two of the villager’s bodies had been missing from the ransacked and burned out village, Hasfid was almost certain that the captain would have left Shetna Forest behind to pursue Falorn’s killer without a second thought. He well knew how stubborn the lun’ilvar could be.

No, he well knew that Tarafen would not have been deterred by the gal’roth leaving the forest; if anything, he would have seen that more as a challenge than a deterrent.

At least Tarafen had been sensible enough to send the injured back with Falorn, and to restrict Aelith from accompanying them on their pursuit. Casgin and Kan’il had not been thrilled at having to return to Sildar Istan, but had understood the logic. Injured as they were, they would prove to be more of a liability than an asset, both slowing them and creating a hazard in the fight as the others tried to watch out for them in the heat of battle. The had accepted being sent back to Sildar Istan easily enough, and that had gone a long way to quiet Aelith’s own complaints, though the brash young recruit had still muttered the entire journey back tot he outpost.

And she probably was muttering still, he realized with a small grin, since she and the others were now on the road back to Esta’vellan, being sent further from the fight.

She and the others had been sent with a handful of ilvarri from Sildar Istan to bear Falorn’s body back to his home, so the rites of passing could be performed, as well as to report to the High Council what they had seen at Sillar’neth. Hasfid was grateful that he had been able to convince Setra’al Shione that he should await the others here, having argued that someone needed to ensure that Tarafen made his way back to Esta’vellan himself after. Though that was the reason he gave Shione, he did not truly expect to have to force Tarafen to return.

At least he hoped he did not.

He had also felt the need to wait with Selunae, who had shown up at the southern outpost shortly after he and the others had, sharing deeply in her concern at their delay.

A slight shuffling sound broke him from his thoughts, and he turned his head to see that Selunae had left the spot she had occupied for the last several hours. She now appeared to be heading towards the nearest ladder.

“Where are you going?” he asked, though he was fairly certain he knew the answer.

“To find my betrothed,” she replied over her shoulder, not slowing in the slightest.

“Alone?”

“If I must.”

He watched as she gracefully swung herself onto the ladder, disappearing from his sight quickly as she slid down the rails. She reappeared shortly, her determined strides across the compound floor bringing her back into view as she angled towards the mardrek pens on the far side, one hand idly fingering the third lobe of her left ear, where he knew the small amethyst stud that denoted her betrothal to Tarafen sat.

He glanced around, seeing that several of the guards that stood atop the wall were watching her departure as well, disapproval in their eyes.

“Dar’krast,” he swore softly.

She was just as stubborn as Tarafen.

With the increase in gal’roth activity lately he certainly could not let her go alone, a fact she was surely aware of.

Plus, he thought belatedly as he, too, began making for the ladder, it would give him something more to do than wait around here in idle frustration that increased with every passing hour.

“Selunae!” he called as he reached the ladder, swinging himself down onto it’s rungs and descending quickly, climbing down two rungs at a time. He leapt off when he was still several steps from the bottom, spinning about quickly on the soft ground the moment his feet made contact. When he did, he was pleased to see that she had indeed halted and turned about at his cry.

She was at least willing to hear him out, if nothing else.

That was something.

He made quickly for where she stood, near the middle of the compound, tapping the fingers of one hand on her arm as she waited for him, eyeing him as he approached. He thought he noted a distinct twinkle in her purple eyes as he caught up to her, though it quickly disappeared as if it had never been there.

“Yes, Hasfid?” her inquiring tone was the perfect example of innocence, which told him beyond any doubt that she had indeed expected his call.

Suppressing another sigh, he stopped in front of her and, knowing full well he was playing into her hands, said with a slightly rueful grin, “We must needs talk to the commander before we go. We cannot have two errant patrols.”

“Oh, are you planning on joining me?” the question was asked in a tone of mock surprise as she arched a thin eyebrow at him, keeping up the facade of innocence.

He could not help but chuckle at her continued display, shaking his head helplessly as he saw the twinkle return to her violet eyes.

“Come, let us see Setra’al Shione’s blessing to depart. You mar have come on your own mardrek, but I certainly did not, and I do not think stealing one a good idea.”

A snarl from the nearby pens accentuated his concerns. One did not simple take a mardrek with out permission. The scaled, wolf-like creatures did not take kindly to that.

The lun’ilvar woman inclined her head in silent acquiescence of his logic and gestured for him to lead the way. Hasfid set off, angling to the right of Selunae’s original destination as more snaps and snarls emanated from the always eager mardrek within, heading instead for the large, ancient ashai tree that centred the outpost of Sildar Istan—the ashai’feyneth.

Like all of the outpost of Shien’tar within Shetna—there were four total, one each for the northern, easter, southern, and western reaches of the forest, with Sildar Istan being the southernmost—Sildar Istan had been built with a large, sprawling, millennia-old ashai tree. The blue leafed ashai was older than any living ilvar could recall, and had been old when the oldest ilvar was but a babe. Given that an ilvar could live to be a millennium or more in age, that meant the ashai that centred the outpost here was truly ancient, with many of the furrows in the rough bark being large enough for one of the forest dwelling people to easily fit within, protecting the old tree from all but the mightiest of blows.

Within the great trunk of the tree, which was hundreds of feet wide in diameter, was contained the offices, living quarters, and passageways used by the officers of Shien’tar, sung out of the wood by the nurturing ilvarri as the tree had grown. Standing several hundred feet tall, a full complement of Shien’tar officers and warriors—one hundred and twenty ilvar strong—as well as support staff lived within the ashai’feyneth at any given time, with there still being room for visitors as the need arose. Several smaller structures, similarly grown from and within trees surrounded the central, towering ashai, completing the outpost within the grown palisade of golden maple.

“You would not actually have left Sildar Istan without first seeking permission?” Hasfid asked as Selunae fell into step beside him, glancing to the taller ilvar out of the corner of his eye as they made for the main entrance of the ashai’feyneth, which was nestled between two of the tree’s large anchor roots, each of which stood twice as tall as any ilvar, though only have the root stuck out above the ground.

“I suppose you will never know,” came the expected response in that same lighthearted, almost flippant tone, eliciting yet another sigh of exasperation from the older sol’ilvar.

“Selunae…” he said in a reproachful tone, trailing off as he halted and grabbed her arm, forcing her to stop and face him.

“Of course I would not have, Hasfid,” the lun’ilvar replied, her tone sobering as he met his brown eyes with her violet orbs, understanding that he needed to know she was serious.

After a long moment, Hasfid nodded, satisfied that she was sincere, and released his grip on her arm as he began to continue on their way.

“I am not my betrothed, after all.”

The words stopped him cold, and he spun about to face her once more, eyes widening at her blunt statement. There was no hint of humour present in her narrow features now as she regarded him coolly through slightly narrowed eyes.

“I never meant to insinuate—”

Of course you did not,” she cut him off, stopping his apology before he could really begin to utter it and taking a step towards him as she continued in a voice that while not quite hard was certainly deadly serious as she stared down at shorter sol’ilvar, “But I want to be clear in this, Hasfid. Though I love him dearly, I am not Tarafen, nor do I approve of all he does. I do not bend the rules or flout the will of the Council when it seems convenient.”

“Of course, Selunae,” Hasfid met her hard stare with a level one of his own, not backing down, “I meant no disrespect, I only needed to be sure. As you said, he is your betrothed, and such could lead to a, er, an ethical conflict, of sorts. I need to be certain that you are thinking clearly in this matter.”

“I am not certain I can claim to be without any bias,” she laughed without humor, sobering almost immediately, “How could I be, with Tarafen missing? Yet my concern is not only for him, but for all those who have yet to return. However,” she added, her tone softening, “should it begin to appear otherwise, please let me know.”

“And should Setra’al Shione refuse your request, and order you to stay here?”

The lun’ilvar was silent a long moment following his question, her eyes hardening once more as her entire visage darkened, jaw setting stubbornly as she considered the question. Hasfid set his own jaw as he watched her intently, needing to hear her say the words.

“If—if—Setra’al Shione forbids it, then I will of course remain in Sildar Istan,” she said at length, though she did not seem overly pleased at her own words as she spoke them.

“I have your word on it?” he pressed, not relenting as she glowered at him.

Sighing loudly, she rolled her eyes before meeting his gaze once again, “Yes, Hasfid. You have my word on it. Should the Setra’al forbid it, I will remain here.”

“Good,” Hasfid said simply, satisfied with her response and trusting that she would hold to her word. She had never given him any reason not to, after all. He held her eyes for a moment longer before turning once more toward the ashai’feyneth’s entrance, turning his head to to add as he set off, “We had best hurry to the Setra’al’s office and convince her that it is in all of Shien’tar’s best interest to let us go, then!”

* * *

Selunae blinked her violet eyes in surprise at Hasfid’s parting words, her eyes narrowing slightly as she hurried to catch up to the veteran sol’ilvar as he neared the doors of the feyneth.

“You have no intention of letting the Setra’al deny our leaving,” she accused in a low voice as they approached the doors, wary of the guards posted there overhearing.

The warriors on either side, a sol’ilvar and a cal’ilvar, swung the bark doors open for them, saluting as they did so.

“Our thanks,” Hasfid said loudly to the guards as they passed them by, returning the salute as she herself did. He replied to her in a lower voice once they were within, one only she could have heard, “No, I do not. I never did.”

“Then what was the point of all of that,” she demanded, working to keep her voice low.

“I had to be sure.”

“Of what?”

“That if push comes to shove, you will adhere to your training, Selunae,” she caught his sidelong glance at her as they crossed the entry hall, the soles of their boots thudding loudly on the smooth wood of the floor as they hurried across, “You and Tarafen are kindred spirits, after all, though you are better at tempering your impulses than he. I—when we leave in search of them, it will be according Shien’tar’s strictures, not without. There is no room for anything else.”

She was silent a long while as she processed his response, trying to decide if she should be insulted by his words.

Better at tempering her impulses?

They stepped onto the molded spiral stair that wrapped around the outside of the tree, eventually leading to the officer’s quarters on the third floor of the feyneth, the blue light of the ensorcelled glowing sapphires in their alcoves casting everything about them in a blue pall. Her eyes narrowed as she wondered if he was again testing him, but what would be the point?

She had already given her word, after all.

Her eyes widened as she considered the unspoken meaning behind his words, the driving force of this entire conversation. It was her turn to grab his arm and pull him to a stop, halfway up the stair between the second and third levels of the tree, forcing him to turn and look at her.

She wanted to look him in the eye as she confirmed this

“You did not approve of pursuing the gal’roth,” it was not a question.

“No, I did not,” Hasfid confirmed, meeting her gaze levelly. He paused, then added belatedly, “Either time.”

“And because Tarafen did not listen, Falorn died.”

“No.”

Selunae rocked back on her heels at the simple response, genuinely confused by his denial. She waited for him to elaborate, sensing he had more to say.

“Because I did not argue well enough the first time, Falorn died,” Hasfid explained, and she saw the pain at his own words writ plain across his hardened features.

“You could not have known, Hasfid,” she replied, not willing to allow him to feel any guilt for what had happened.

“Regardless, I should have argued more.”

“And would Tarafen have listened?”

“He may have,” he crossed his arms defiantly in front of him.

“You truly think so?” it was her turn to look at him in disbelief, “You said yourself only moments ago that he is poor at tempering his impulses, and you were not wrong.”

He met her gaze for a long moment, then sighed, “I suppose not, but still…”

“No, Hasfid,” she cut him off, not willing to let himself hold guilt for the recruits untimely passing, “The blame lies squarely on the shoulders of my betrothed. You can only advise him, not make his choices for him.”

They were both silent a while, Selunae watching the internal struggle within the sol’ilvar, knowing that it was better he accepted this fact before they went in to Shione’s office. Hasfid looked away, staring off into the soft blue glow of the nearest sapphire.

“He did what he thought was right, heedless of the consequences,” she said at length, adding with a twinge of regret, “As he always does.”

“I know,” the sol’ilvar sighed, “And I do not deny that avenging the people of Silla’neth was satisfying, and yet…”

“It was done without authorization of the Council, and Falorn was killed,” she finished for him.

Hasfid nodded.

“The blame for Falorn’s death does not lie with you, Hasfid. Any part of it,” she reiterated, fixing him with her gaze, “it lies solely with Tarafen.”

The sol’ilvar nodded again, and said in a regretful voice as he turned to continue up the stairs, “The worst part is that the Council would have surely approved the pursuit, and Tarafen knew that.”

“And yet had he waited for that permission, the creatures would have more than likely escaped,” Selunae stated, knowing what Tarafen’s line of thought would have been.

“And that is the very argument he used on me,” Hasfid chuckled dryly, confirming her theory as they mounted the final step to the third level of the ashai’feyneth.

The pair turned off the stairway and entered a wide hallway, walking its length in silence until they came to the door at the far end, flanked on either side by two of the blue glowing gemstones. Hasfid raised hand to knock, but stopped short, instead turning to look up at the lun’ilvar, his orange-bronze skin appearing brown in the blue light of the sapphires.

He arched an eyebrow at her in silent question, and she knew he was asking if she would follow her lead should the need arise.

After a long moment of silent introspection, she nodded, knowing that any other response would only delay them further, and that she could not countenance. Besides, she knew that Hasfid was as determined as she to go in search of the missing party, though likely not for entirely the same reasons.

Hasfid appeared to be with her simple response, responding in kind before rapping his hand on the rough surface of the door.

“Enter,” a sharp voice ordered from within.

Hasfid pushed the door open and entered the chamber beyond.

Taking a steading breath, steeling herself for the coming conversation, Selunae quickly followed behind the sol’ilvar.

The door closed with a muted thud behind her as the silver-blonde haired lun’ilvar seated behind the large wooden desk eyed her visitors appraisingly, setting down her quill as they approached.

Selunae would not be deterred.

No matter what.