XIV. DON’T SHOOT
Aichlan rubbed his hands together under his tunic as he looked dolefully up at the clear skies, the sun that gave no warmth, and his breath exhaled raggedly as vapor before him. The camp was somber in the late afternoon chill. Unlike the southern Wraith Wood, the Duvachelle woods were not nearly so close and disorienting. Being well travelled, there were roads and waystations, hunters lodges and logging camps scattered throughout. Though all were eerily abandoned, it was refreshing to see signs of civilization after having spent so much time in the wilderness.
Many fires burned outside tents as soldiers huddled around them for warmth or they roasted the meager game Taryn and her archers had hunted. Much of the crops had rotted and were unfit to consume, but Baron Jung stayed true to his bargain. He fed and left them undisturbed in the woods along the lakeshore, as well as given free access to the mines. They had made camp weeks before, and should have left earlier this morning; however, a combination of injury from the port fiasco and the onset of illness convinced Aichlan to allow some extra rest. Despite this, the whole scene felt surreal.
The sisters of The Order spent most of their time mending and making clothing, none of them had much more than what was on their backs. Though Clarissa had somehow managed to hold onto all of the gifts she had purchased in Eefrit, it was not the type of fare needed in a military campaign. Everyone else either hunted or foraged for supplies for the upcoming march. They could look forward to a lot of berries, smoked fish and jerky for the coming weeks it would take to reach the capitol.
Aichlan whistled a tune of his home as he followed the twisting path -blanked in the fiery leaves shed from their bowers as autumn drew to a close- on his way towards the lake. He had grown quite fond of the shore, and had come to realize how much he missed being around large bodies of water. The brisk air was unexpectedly rejuvenating, leading him to go out with only his sword, coat of plates, breeches and a wool tunic. While he saw no reason to wear all of his armor and winter gear for so short a journey, recent events left him unwilling to go out completely defenseless. It was a grim reminder that for the foreseeable future, no wooded area or country road would be safe, now that Osric had unleashed the demons of Dusk upon the world once more.
A stiff breeze carried with it the unmistakable earthy aroma of decomposing foliage underfoot. The naked branches swayed and bent as if trying to hide their shame against the harsh gusts, the very same winds that bit at Aichlan’s exposed cheeks like a grandmother’s pinches. He breathed deeply and allowed himself to become lost in the ambiance of nature, letting his mind to freely roam away from the war and Osric, to the more mundane. He thought of home and the sea, how skies over Westfaire were always painted in shades of grey during the winter months, how the snow rarely stuck around for long, but the neighborhood children always ran out to try and make snowmen of the slush before it drained back into the ocean. He thought of his mother’s cooking, while in retrospect it was not the best, she always had something warm and made with care to stave off the cold.
He wondered how she would have reacted to Ashe. Aichlan’s mother, Cecilia, had been a full blooded fey, and embodied more than a few of their traits. She had an impish sense of humor, and was strong willed to a fault, which was probably what drew her and Garrick together to begin with. No doubt she would have tried to offend Ashe, just to see how she reacted, but ultimately, she would have accepted her.
Aichlan abruptly stopped, feeling a sense of unease wash over him. He could not tell if it was how easily thoughts of a life with Ashe came to him, or something else entirely. He cautiously looked around, his hand hovering over his sword, but saw nothing save the forest and his own breaths. He relaxed and lowered his hand. It was becoming a noticeable trait for Aichlan, to always be on guard and ever vigilant, one he had often noticed in his father. Aichlan smiled wryly as he thought of how similar they had become, next he would start walking around with a stern look on his face all the time, responding to everything with a grunt or a nod.
The winds blew once more and Aichlan felt something dash behind him. He drew his blade in a flash and whipped around, finding no one. While he hadn’t exactly felt anything brush against him, there was a barely perceptible change in the wind at his back, it was as if for an instant it was not there. Aichlan took slow shallow breaths, straining his ears for some sort of sign he was not imagining things or being paranoid.
Aichlan slowly turned back around and continued towards the lake, still fairly confident he was not alone, yet too far from camp by this point to simply head back. He kept a platoon of men at the lodge at all times, largely at the Baron’s insistence. While the army was forbidden from making camp in the sprawling complex, they were free to utilize its amenities during daylight hours. Aichlan would simply have to interrupt their leisure time to canvas the wood for whatever was stalking him.
A sudden impact at his back knocked Aichlan to the ground. He had not heard the tell-tale twang of the bow that fired it, nor the distinctive sound of the missile as it tore through the air. Fortunately, the projectile had struck him squarely on one of the coats iron plates, though it still managed to break the skin, it was hardly a life-threatening wound. Aichlan crawled through the dirt and leaves towards an embankment as another arrow silently struck the ground where he had previously lain. Two more struck the dirt beside him as he crawled behind an old elm.
Aichlan reached behind his back and pulled the arrow from his flesh, the arrow head broke off as he tried to wrench it free of the thin iron plate. A green blur in the corner of his eyes spurred Aichlan back to his feet, just as two more arrows impacted the tree where he had taken cover.
He took off through the wood towards the lake, bounding over fallen logs and rocky outcroppings, ducking arrows and snags as he charged down the rapidly steepening grade. As he stumbled onto the rocky shore of the black lake, he spotted Eth and Enyo casually skipping stones over its still surface. Aichlan raised his arm to signal them, and was sent tumbling head over heels by an arrow to the shoulder, just as he prepared to call out.
* * *
Eth jerked back mid throw, causing his stone to simply splash into the placid waters with a loud ker-plunk. Enyo laughed victoriously, he had failed to beat her impressive seven skips by a spectacularly large margin. Her gloating was cut short however by the serious expression he wore as he stared at the edge of the wood.
“What is it?” She asked.
Eth remained silent and raised a finger, signaling for her to do the same. Despite the cold, he was shirtless, but seemed unconcerned for the temperature like the rest of the camp. Even though she had taken to wearing a long tunic with sleeves, Enyo was still freezing, and couldn’t stop her teeth from chattering. His breath came out in slow wisps of vapor, as if he were trying to control it in the manner of a hunter stalking their prey.
“What are you looking for?” Despite straining her eyes and standing on her toes, she could see nothing.
“...Just a sound…” Eth replied cryptically.
“A sound?” Enyo was beginning to suspect he was merely trying to distract her after such a humiliating defeat. “What kind of sound?”
At the edge of the forest, Aichlan staggered up to his feet, half hidden by a small rise on the shore. It took Enyo several moments to notice he was hurt, and had an arrow jutting from his shoulder.
“Ah shit.” She swore as she picked her sword up from the ground and took off in his direction.
* * *
Aichlan staggered into a jog, his sword arm hanging limply at his side. Ahead of him, Enyo shot several small balls of flame in his direction, propelled by gale force winds and presumably at his unseen attacker or their arrows.
“Aichlan!” Enyo shouted as she launched another volley of fire. “Behind ye!”
Aichlan turned around in time to see a woman flying through the air towards him, her face contorted in a mask of rage and intent to kill. He quickly turned his body and raised his sword to block with his off hand, just as her own blade arched before him as a silver blur. The impact spun him off balance, and Aichlan hit the stony beach with such force that the air was knocked from his lungs. As he rolled over, feebly gasping for air, the woman had mounted him, her gleaming silver blade poised to plunge into his chest.
“Nae this day bitch!” Enyo shouted as she tackled the woman.
Aichlan grabbed hold of his sword, expecting the worst, as he sat up; still gasping for air. Enyo quickly disarmed the woman and wrapped her in an impressive cobra clutch. Aichlan’s would be assassin was a young elf woman with light brown hair; and very attractive, despite the crazed look she wore. Her skin was ghostly pale and her hair adorned with glittering leaves and vines of ivy. The short dress she wore looked as if made from the very essence of the forests rather than spun cotton or linen. She frantically kicked out her legs as she futilely tapped Enyo’s arm, her consciousness bleeding away.
“Ease up a bit.” Aichlan urged. “I have questions for her.”
Enyo relaxed her grip and the woman sucked in mouthfuls of air like a drowned man resurfaced, her cheeks beet red as her hazel eyes bore angrily towards Aichlan. Eth helped Aichlan to his feet, and with a firm tug, ripped the arrow out of his shoulder. Aichlan swore and nearly bit off his tongue as tears streamed down his cheeks against his will.
“Ye got a bad habit o’ getting’ shot lad.” Eth tossed the arrow and slapped Aichlan heartily on the back. “But daen’t ye worry, Clarissa’ll patch ye up better’n new.”
Aichlan clutched his shoulder and continued to curse, wanting desperately to kick Eth square between the legs. Instead, he attempted to distract himself from the pain by looking the elf woman over once more. While her features were similar to that of those he travelled with, her ears were shorter and stuck out more to the side, and her build was sprightlier than the robust Colby-Nau. Her clothes were all plant like, both in color and texture. She wore a short dress made of a dark green leather type material, though oddly textured. Her shoes were like ballerina’s slippers, made of sturdy fibers and thigh length silk stockings, oddly reminiscent of a spider’s web. Hanging from slender hips was a belt with a large ornate dagger on one side and a quiver on the other, still full of the flesh shredding arrows she had stuck him with previously. If it were not for her blindingly pale skin and the season, she would have the perfect camouflage for the forest.
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“She’s from Alfheim.” Enyo remarked as her captive began to struggle anew. “Yer a long way from home to be out tryin’ tae assassinate random blokes, daen’t ye think?”
“Let me go!” The forest elf hissed.
Her accent was a cross between the posh Aes Sidhean spoken in central Briartach, where Alice was from, and the lilting tones of wild fey deep in the hills.
“Why the hell did you attack me?” Aichlan demanded, clutching his bleeding shoulder.
The woman glared at him and spat at his feet. “I don’t respond to Dusk borne filth.”
Eth scratched his head as he looked her up and down. “Then why’d ye respond jus’ now to tell ‘im ye daen’t respond? Why nae jus’ nae respond?”
Aichlan grit his teeth and closed his eyes. “By the fucking light Eth, I swear…”
“An’ whit’s got yer paps in a knot?” Eth demanded.
“Daen’t be a nyaff Eth,” Enyo chastised, “the gen’ral’s got bluid pourin’ from ‘is arm cuz o’ ye.”
“I’m nae the one ‘at shot ‘im.” Eth said crossly.
“Shut up.” Aichlan barked as he attempted to apply pressure to the wound with his hand. “I’ll not ask again, why did you attack me?”
“This man is a minion of the Niflhel,” Tears had formed in the young elf woman’s eyes as she pleaded with Enyo, “I know not by what trickery he has enthralled you, but we must slay it before more arrive!”
Aichlan sighed, beginning to feel light headed. “What?”
“She’s callin’ ye a demon from the realm o’ dusk.” Eth glanced at Aichlan from the corner of his eye. “Mebbe ye should sit down a spell…”
“Don’t deny it fiend!” The woman snarled. “I smell the grave upon you, and can see the aura of darkness that surrounds you!”
“There must be some mistake.” Aichlan surreptitiously sniffed himself.
Eth subtly nudged Aichlan’s arm. “Ye daen’t stink lad. Least, nae tae us.”
“He ain’t a demon, just a bloke that died once is all.” Enyo said matter-of-factly as she loosened her hold. “He’s nae Dusk borne neither, arsehole sometimes, but nae a demon.”
The woman glared at Aichlan for several moments, but eventually sagged her shoulders in defeat. “Very well, I shall take your word.”
“If I let ye go, ye aren’t gonna stick ‘im with arrows again are ye?” Enyo asked as if she were bargaining with a child.
“No.” The woman said flatly.
“Now hold on a minute!” Aichlan protested.
Enyo released her prisoner and stood to her feet. The elf woman sprang up and glared down at Aichlan, who had taken Eth’s advice and took a seat, but made no moves against him. She turned to Enyo to ask a question, but before she got a chance to speak, Eth removed her sword from its sheath upon her back. She protested in a flurry of high elvish, but Eth brusquely pushed her away, holding her at arm’s length as she vainly struggled to reclaim her blade. He held the blade up to the light; its polished silver gleamed brilliantly in the impotent sunlight.
“Whit’s this ‘ere?” Eth whistled as he examined the blade with an approving whistle. “A silver blade,” he roughly turned her around and looked at the small shield strapped to her back, “and a shield with the royal crest upon it. Now whose corpse did ye take these from lassie?”
“Give it back!” she cried as she reached and leapt for the weapon Eth kept just out of her reach.
The sunlight caught several runes carved intricately into the blade. “Who is this Titania? Yer ma?”
Enyo meandered her way over behind Eth and snatched the blade from him. She examined the weapon briefly before handing it back to the bewildered young woman.
“What the hell Enyo!” Eth demanded
“Stop being a bully.” She replied lethargically. “Who are ye talking to in such a proper tongue anyway?”
“I’m yer fuckin’ superior!” Eth jabbed himself in the chest with his thumb in a swaggering gesture. “If I wanna bully a prisoner o’ war, bloody be it!”
“She’s nae a prisoner” Enyo said through a yawn, “but who is this? And why is she so far from the forest?”
Aichlan watched the debate with interest, though he had not fully comprehended the elven tongue, he too wanted to know who this woman was. Eth snatched back the sword, and swung it around a bit. The woman deftly drew a bow and notched an arrow, aiming it at Eth’s face. Quick as a whip, Eth pointed his index finger at her, a small flame burned in a ball at the tip. Sensing the fun could turn bloody rather quickly, Aichlan forced himself to his feet and lowered the would be combatant’s arms.
“Alright, think we’ve had enough of this.”
Eth ignored Aichlan’s plea, though made no further moves of aggression as the woman took a step back and held up her arrow in surrender. After watching her for several moments, Eth held the blade up to the light once more to marvel at the characters that illuminated on the blade.
“Whit happened tae Titania?” He asked at length.
“Please, return it. It’s all I have left.” The woman pleaded pitifully.
Eth sighed and tossed the sword at her feet. “Tell us yer name.”
The young elf quickly snatched up her blade and clutched it to her chest before putting it back in its sheath. “…Rowena, of Mossroot village.”
“Yer a long way from home lass.”
Aichlan held up his hand for Eth to be silent. “Where is Mossroot?”
Rowena shot Aichlan a nasty look, but settled on simply answering him. “In Alfheim.”
“Just west o’ Petal Falls, that’s where,” Eth paused at the unpleasant memories that suddenly overcame him. “That’s where me and Kielan were fer tradin’. It’s the start o’ the river Tear.”
Aichlan nodded and gripped his shoulder. “That is far off, did you come alone?”
“…I had no choice…” Rowena knelt down to pick up her blade. “My… my sister was supposed to come with me.”
Tears began to fill her hazel-green eyes, and Aichlan felt slightly sorry for her. That is until the shooting pain in his shoulder reasserted itself, and his vision blurred again from blood loss. He carefully sheathed his sword as Enyo, recognizing his dire situation, tore off a piece of her tunic and used it to plug the hole in his shoulder.
“My sister, Titania, was a soldier in the forest corps.” Rowena continued. “She returned home at the onset of this war as a precaution. I was ecstatic; it’d been so long since I’ve seen my sister. We never thought this conflict would spill into our realm.”
“Hindsight’s a bitch ain’t it?”
“Eth, please.” Aichlan scolded.
“Whatever…”
“Hold still will ye?” Enyo snapped as she attempted to wrap the wound.
“Sorry.” Aichlan said sheepishly, gesturing towards Rowena with his off hand. “Please, continue your tale.”
Rowena hesitated, looking first to Eth and then Enyo before slowly continuing. “It was a few months ago when beasts of legend set upon my village, feasting upon my family and friends. My sister was to lead me to Rhode, and seek the help of the Colby-Nau.” She stood in silence for several moments before looking over to Eth, a bit apprehensive in face of his intimidating appearance. “But I am curious, why are you here? Has word been sent from Yggdrasil?”
Eth crossed his arms over his bare chest. “We’ve heard naehin’; we chase the bastard that released those demons fer oor awn reasons.”
Rowena cocked her head, a puzzled knit in her brow. “Then may I ask that you spare some men to escort me to Rhode, I have barely made it thus far on my own…”
Aichlan shook his head. “I am afraid we cannot do that—“
“I asked for help from the Colby-Nau! Not some demon puppet!” She fired back with unforeseen animosity. “It was men wearing your uniform that came and desecrated our forests!”
“And it was this man that saved the people of Rhode when Osric attacked oor homeland.” Enyo pat Aichlan’s bandage to signal she had finished.
Rowena whipped around to face Enyo, dumbfounded by his admission. “You follow him? A human?”
“He’s more fey than human…” Eth objected. “And he now leads what’s left of our military to avenge our people and his own, those men in uniform were no doubt ‘is own soldiers reanimated by Osric as mindless slaves. Ye want help; we’ll do whit we can. But we cannae spare any men, especially nae tae go back to the smoldering remains o’ Rhode.”
Now it was Aichlan’s turn to be dumbfounded by yet another of Eth’s infrequent moments of logical persuasive speaking. Rowena fell to her knees in shock and despair, as all she had struggled for revealed to have been in vain. He sighed and kneeled beside her as he addressed her as delicately as possible. She shrugged off his supportive hand as a fit of sobs shook her slender build. Aichlan silently looked her in the face for several moments, speaking only when she glanced back at him.
“Eth is my second in command; Enyo here is a battalion commander. We chase a man by the name of Osric, it is he who has opened the Black Gate and commands the demons that destroyed our homes.”
“I think she’s had enough fer now Aichlan.” Eth lit a cigar, and puffed out a thick cloud of violet smoke.
Aichlan massaged his shoulder brushed himself off. “Quite, I’ll have Clarissa send someone to look after her.”
“Get that shoulder looked at first.” Enyo prodded. “Shame fer ye tae die now.”
“I promise it will be the first thing I do.” Aichlan assured her.
He turned to leave in search of a healer, but was halted once more by Enyo. He was surprised to see her looking very childlike, her eyes were downcast as she played with her hands.
“If I may General, I would like tae look after Rowena.”
“You would?”
Aichlan looked to Eth in search of some explanation to her odd behavior. He merely nodded his assent before he made his way back to camp.
“Very well then. Update me on her status come evening briefs.”
“Thank ye…”
Aichlan nodded and hurried after Eth. “What the hell was that all about?”
“Enyo’s mother came from Alfheim, and both of her parents were taken from her when she was but a wee lil’ lass. She’s had nae contact with that side o’ her heritage, an’ accordin’ tae Donough, that’s the cause fer a lot o’ her attitude.”
“What happened to her family?”
“…Those in Alfheim got this superior thin’ goin' on, think their tree huggin’ shit daen’t stink if ya catch ma meanin’.”
“So it was retaliation?”
“Aye.” Eth nodded. “I’m nae the one tae speak on it, ye should ask Enyo’s uncle.”
“Her uncle? Who is he?”
“Donough.”
Aichlan stopped dead in his tracks as Eth continued. “Are you serious? He’s, she’s not… pardon?”