Seredaine, Stout, Lowan, Peter, and Sprindella set out quite early the next morning, before the sun was even up. Since they were taking the direct route through the valley, Lowan predicted that they should be able to reach the trading post in a few days time, if they stayed clear of trouble. The plan in general was to follow the footpath that lay near Lowander’s house until it merged with the Wolden Trail, which was simply the name for the main path that cut across the valley, east to west. The first day of the journey was fairly uneventful. The weather was mild, and they didn’t encounter any signs of the king’s warriors. They spent the night in the lee of a small hill that was covered with dense bushes and ferns. It was an excellent place to camp, because it was practically impossible to spot from the trail, yet close enough that they would be able to quickly resume the journey in the morning.

Around noon on the following day, the Wolden Trail brought them within a mile or so of the elven village of Cel-Mior, and Seredaine announced that she intended to have a look, to see what had become of it. Naturally, Lowander and Sprindella advised against this, but Seredaine would not be dissuaded. So it was that they took a short detour, and followed a spur of the Wolden Trail that led to the elven village.

When they came to the end of the spur, they found that nearly all of Cel-Mior had been burned to the ground, as if someone had gone about very deliberately and set fire to every home, shop, and structure they could find. There was no need to wonder at who the culprits might be. There were deep bootprints all over the place, the kind left by lumbering humans in heavy armor. The king’s men had been here, and done the deed. Seredaine, Stout, and the three rogues searched around a bit, but found nothing more than ash and debris, until they came to the town meeting house, which seemed to have only partly burnt down. Half the roof was missing, but otherwise it was still standing.

“Look at the bright side, Seredaine.” Said Peter. “I don’t see any dead elves. Seems they got out long before the humans came through.”

“I suppose I should be thankful for that.” Said Seredaine.

“You suppose?” Said Lowander. “Your folk are alive somewhere, hopefully beyond the border by now. That’s something to be grateful for.”

Seredaine shook her head.

“Look around.” She said. “There is not a single arrow upon the ground, not one broken shield, nor even so much as a drop of blood to mark that there was some resistance here. There was not an elf among these villagers who had the nerve to fight, and that, perhaps, may be regarded as a fate worse than death.”

“Take it from a rogue Seredaine, death is the worst fate.” Said Lowander. “You’ve been holed up at that Grove for too long. The days of the True King are in the past now. Honor has fled this land. Now we are left only with practicality.”

“So you say, but you are on this quest too.” Said Seredaine. “There must be a little honor tucked away somewhere in your grimy little heart, Lowander.”

Lowander crossed his arms defiantly.

“I owe you.” He said. “Doesn’t count.”

Just then they heard a sound coming from within the meeting house. It sounded like something metal had been dropped against the floor. They all stood quite still, and listened intently. Then they heard a sort of shuffling sound. Something was definitely moving around in there.

“Maybe it’s an elf?” Said Peter hopefully.

“Or it’s some of those blasted humans are still lurking about.” Said Sprindella.

Stout shook his head, and emitted a low growl.

“It’s not human or elf, whatever it is.” Said Seredaine. “But I can tell you that Stout doesn’t like the scent of it.”

Then there came a crashing sound from within the meeting house, much louder than what they had heard so far. To Seredaine’s ears, it suggested that whatever was inside was quite large, or else, had knocked down something large and heavy. It was rather alarming, and they all took a step back, even Seredaine.

“Some kind of scavenger?” Said Peter.

“There are no bodies.” Said Seredaine. “What kind of scavenger lurks where there are no bodies?”

“All the same, I think we’d better get out of sight.” Said Sprindella. “I’ve a very bad feeling about this.”

They did as she said. None of them knew just what was rattling around in the meeting house, and the fact that Stout was not able to place its scent was enough to make even Seredaine feel uneasy. They went to one of the houses that still had a partial wall remaining and crouch down behind it. For a time, they listened and waited. Then the meeting house door opened, and the creature came shambling out.

It was a large beast, nearly the size of a troll. It stood on two legs, though it had freakishly long forearms, and a sort of stooped over way of walking, which gave an observer the impression that the creature would be just as comfortable walking on all fours, if the need arose. All four of its limbs ended in wicked looking claws that nature had fashioned in the shape of hooks. Its skin was devoid all color, like that of a subterranean creature. It was not white, nor grey, but almost clear, and if one were to watch the creature move, they would see its muscles expanding and contracting beneath the surface of its skin as it moved. It’s head was somewhat like that of a bat, in that it had a squashed looking face, a flat nose, and sharp teeth that seemed to stick out at random. It had a cloth sack slung over its shoulder, and judging by the clanking sounds that came from the sack, Seredaine guessed that it mostly contained metal objects, presumably plundered from the ruins of Cel-Mior. It was without doubt the ugliest creature that Seredaine had ever seen, and she had run across more than her fair share of creatures during her service to the True King, and the Council. The creature was only about a hundred feet away from where they were hiding.

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“There’s the answer to your question, elf.” Whispered Sprindella. “What kind of scavenger lurks where there are no bodies? That kind. A Draknurl.”

“You’ve seen that thing before?” Asked Seredaine.

“No.” Said Sprindella. “But I’ve heard of them. My grandfather used to speak of their kind. They live underground, or so it is said, and only come out of hiding during times of strife, such as war, or famine. They come to rob the dead, or in this case the banished, and pick and choose what items they want for their collections.”

“Then It’s nothing but an overgrown burglar.” Said Seredaine. “Reveling in the misery of others. Someone ought to teach it a lesson.”

Lowander noticed that Seredaine had placed her hand on the hilt of her sword.

“Hold on, you mad elf.” He whispered. “This village is already abandoned and burnt. Well beyond saving, I'd say. That creature is only going about its business. Let’s go about ours. Getting into a fight here won’t bring us an inch closer to rescuing those children.”

Seredaine had to admit that this was true, though she badly wanted to punish the Draknurl for creeping around the village. Its loathsome appearance and greedy ways enraged her. However, just when she agreed that they ought to leave the creature be, the Draknurl’s misshapen head lurched upwards, and looked in their direction. It could not see them behind the wall, of course, but it was looking their way all the same. At first Seredaine thought that it might have heard them whispering, but this was not the case. It was taking deep sniffs through its flat nose.

“That thing can smell us.” Seredaine whispered.

“I should think not.” Said Sprindella. “He's upwind of us. Unless…”

“Unless what?” Snapped Seredaine.

“Draknurls can smell treasure at great distance.” Said Sprindella. “They’re quite keen at that.”

Without hesitation everyone looked at Lowander. Lowander put on his most shocked expression.

“Why do you look at me?” He wanted to know.

Then he tried to scramble away, but Seredaine grabbed him by the collar before he could make too much noise.

“Did you leave those forty pieces of gold behind, or bring them along?” She whispered.

“It’s my money!” Protested Lowander. “Shall I not do with it as I please?”

“Technically it’s Hallam’s money.” Said Peter. “Though I suppose he has no use for it now.”

“You’re not helping, Peter.” Snapped Lowander.

“Sorry, but Seredaine is giving the orders, until we pay off our life debt.” Said Peter. “Fair is fair.”

Muttering various crude oaths, Lowander reached into his shirt and took out a bag of coins. As soon as he did so, the Draknurl sniffed again, then produced an eerie moaning sound. Seredaine peeked over the top of the broken wall. The Draknurl was coming towards them.

“Throw it or something!” Whispered Sprindella. “Throw the coins away and the creature may follow!”

Lowander gasped as if Sprindella had driven a dagger through his heart.

“Throw away my gold?” He sputtered. “To that thing?”

Just then Seredaine lost all her patience with the bag of gold, and Lowander’s squabbling.

“To the hells with this.” She said.

Then she seized the bag of coins from Lowander’s hands, and stepped out from behind the broken wall. She strode forward, holding the bag out in front of her, unil she was face to face with the Draknurl.

“This is what you want, isn’t it?” She said.

The Draknurl did not reply, nor did it give any indication that it understood the speech of the Greater Realm, or elvish for that matter.

“Take it.” Said Seredaine with disgust.

Then she tossed the bag of coins at the Draknurl’s feet. While keeping one wary eye on Seredaine, the Draknurl stooped down and retrieved the bag with one hooked claw. Then the creature loosened the top of the bag, and took a deep sniff of the coins, as though they possessed a fragrant scent. Seredaine hoped it would move on, now that it had the treasure, but instead the Draknurl sniffed again, and it was not admiring the coins this time. Seredaine realized that the Draknurl was staring at the sword upon her hip. In truth her blade was a treasure in itself, given that it was a masterpiece of craftsmanship, and made of a metal known only to the elves. The Draknurl’s eyes gleamed as it beheld the sword. Seredaine could tell that the creature wanted it badly.

“Try it.” Said Seredaine, her voice tight with anger. “I want you to try it. Make your move, you bloated filth.”

Her hand rested on the hilt of her sword, ready to draw it in an instant. A long moment passed between them, the elf and the Draknurl, both of them staring at the other, and both of them still as statues. Lowander, Sprindella, and Peter held their breath, certain there would be a fight. Stout was tensed to charge, in case Seredaine needed him. Then, the Draknurl emitted an irritated grunt, and backed off. It seemed that the creature wasn’t willing to risk Seredaine’s fury for the sake of acquiring the sword. It shambled away from her, crossed the ruined village square, and entered the woods. Seredaine watched it the whole way, to be certain it was really moving on. It seemed that this was no ruse, for the Draknurl headed deeper into the dense trees, and vanished out of sight. At that point, Lowander, Peter, Sprindella, and Stout came out to join Seredaine. The general mood was one of relief, but Lowander was furious, and pacing around like mad.

“Well Seredaine, I never thought I’d live to see the day when proud elf warriors would go around robbing honest folk of their money, and handing it out to monsters.” He said.

“Oh go on!” Said Sprindella. “You’ve not an honest bone in your body. And as Peter pointed out, it wasn’t really your money, in the end.”

“I’m just glad to be rid of that damned forty gold pieces.” Said Seredaine. “That’s twice now that those coins have gotten Stout and I into a dangerous situation.”

“Shall we be moving on?” Said Peter. “We’ve still plenty of daylight, and a good deal of ground to cover between here and the trading post.”

“Agreed.” Said Sprindella. “And let’s all hope that we never encounter such an ugly brute again.”

Seredaine nodded, but something had put her ill at ease. The way that the Draknurl had looked at her sword, she could tell that the creature coveted it badly, certainly more than it cared for scraps of metal or a bag of gold. Yet in the end it had gone away without much fuss. It had gone away almost too easily, Seredaine thought. She scanned the woods once more, but there was no sign of the Draknurl.

“Ready to move on, elf?” Sprindella said.

“I’m ready.” Seredaine replied.

Still, she did not take her eyes off the woods.