THE THREE RIDERS
As he realised the white arrow that struck down the approaching orc hadn’t been Alva’s Dassenar took a second to glance up at the elf. To his astonishment, Alva had been joined by several more archers, wearing similar clothes to those she had worn upon her arrival at the gates of Arendil.
More and more of these archers appeared from the mountains beyond, finding large boulders to stand on and shooting arrows down at the orcs below. Most arrows barely slowed the orcs down, enraging them more than anything. The elven archers were skilled, but few were capable of hitting a moving target accurately from that distance.
Alva, however, was far more successful, most of her arrows striking their targets in vital areas. Having spotted white riders approaching from the east, she began making her way toward them, slowing down to release an arrow every so often as she leaped along the jagged rocks.
Fearing the growing number of archers, the orcs slowed their attack, searching for cover. Seeing this opportunity, Dassenar pushed toward the dark-skinned man who had been freed by the markhorkryn.
It was indeed his old friend Drisdaru, a Skarian captain with whom he had fought years before. He still wore the black armour of a Skarian, a golden, winged lion adorning his right shoulder.
The Skarian warrior fought with an orc spear he had picked up, using a series of spins and jumps to dodge his opponents’ attacks and thrusting it forward in order to pierce the simple, leather armour worn by the orcs.
Several orcs lay dead around him as he defended the fifth prisoner, a halfling who was protecting herself with a large piece of wood she had found in the rubble from the cage. She was able to deflect most attacks as many the elves above focused their arrows on the orcs that approached her. Their position directly above her made it easier for them to aim at the orcs’ head and necks, making most of their arrow shots lethal.
As Dassenar approached them, he yelled: “This way, Drisdaru!”
The man was shocked to hear his name. He had been asleep when when Dassenar arrived and didn’t have a good view of him once he had been woken up by the middle cage crashing onto the ground. He didn’t have time to check who it was, though as the orcs charged toward him relentlessly.
Dassenar arrived near them, using his graceful and deadly fighting style to move through the orc forces in a swift and smooth manner, all the while inflicting devastating wounds upon the orcs in his path.
Drisdaru managed a quick glance as the elf neared him and recognized his old friend. He simply smiled as he turned back to plunge his spear into the belly of an oncoming orc. The Skarian warrior then pulled the spear back and turned fully toward Dassenar running to strike the orc next to him.
The Halfling dropped the piece of wood she had been holding and began running alongside the two warriors as they made their way to the lumberyard, the markhorkryn assisting in clearing a path through the unrelenting onslaught of orcs.
To the east, three riders in white armour, which resembled ivory, but didn’t shine, rode toward the camp on white unicorns. The rider in the middle held a scimitar which, much like Dassenar’s, had a similar shape to a katana but curved into a long, thin point at the end.
On either side of him, the warriors had white flags attached to their spears, which flowed in the wind, shining as brightly as the manes of the majestic creatures they rode. Upon the flags was the symbol of Ambelaras, a white and yellow plumeria flower with dark-yellow triangles, resembling rays of sunlight, behind it.
The trio wore the armour of Ambelaran warriors. The design was sleek with long triangles of the same, rich yellow on their flags, decorating the edge of the fabric in a few places, including their saddles.
Their armour had triangular spikes adorning the shoulders and helmet, which were angled back, resembling horns. The rider in the center, however, had actual horns. He was not an elf like the others, but a terek.
The base of his horns was along his hairline, slightly protruding below it. Terek horns typically grew diagonally, slightly curving back above their heads. In some rare cases they would curve enough to spiral into horns resembling those of rams.
Even rarer were horns that grew at and angle of up to seventy degrees from their heads, pointing up like the horns of demons. These tereks were often shunned as they were said to be the product of dark gods.
Female tereks had horns that grew in a similar fashion but were usually smaller and thinner. There was also a third sex among the tereks, known as omdrale. These individuals had both reproductive organs found in males and females. They too had once been shunned, then revered as special beings for a while. In this new age, however, they were simply a third sex, neither more nor less important than the other two.
A mix of reproductive organs or traits which were typically associated with a specific sex was, of course, a common occurrence among other races as well. However, they were not all as accepting and didn’t always afford such people the same status in their society as the terek did with the omdrale.
Elves were accepting of intersex or transgender members within their society, but many still struggled to treat them equally. As accepting as the elves were, they still had a tendency to act or speak differently to such people, as it had only just been normalized in their society.
Many races of kryn and vryn were a lot more open to these ideas, celebrating these differences and not taking them into account unless those affected by them wished to stand out because of them. Other races, such as orcs, were less enlightened and shunned intersex people or even killed them as babies.
Overall, terek society had made great progress in accepting their own and trying to be open minded. Unfortunately, they had remained a war-like society and didn’t always value the lives of other humanoid races. Though, they were far less racist than the elves, who often risked their lives to protect animals but had no problem slaughtering humanoid races. This usually occurred when foreign populations trespassed on their lands and the elves considered the impact they might have on the local fauna and flora to be reason enough for their annihilation.
The three riders passed through the same gate as Dassenar, the terek riding ahead and slaying two orcs who had just stepped out to find their dead comrades.
His long, white horns shaped in a way that resembled an elongated “s”, the curvature ever so slight. They had grown to reach back even further than the back of his head in the last few years as he reached the age of thirteen, twenty-two in earth years, the symbolic age of maturity for male tereks.
Though other terek populations were said to exist in far away lands, the only ones known to those who lived in this part of the world were the tereks of Nilduras.
Their largest territory was in the central portion of the Western Region. It was ruled by a triumvirate. The three rulers, known as triumvirs, were chosen from each of the three major cities of their territory and ruled in the capital, Oradol. Their nation had, thus, been called the Oradollian Enclave.
The elves thought little of most other races but had great respect for the Tereks. The only other race they didn’t consider to be far lesser than them were halflings, though any nation the short-folk formed was usually not taken very seriously.
The tereks of the Oradolian enclave, however, were esteemed allies of several elven kingdoms and often joined them in their conflicts. Tereks were a war-like people and enjoyed the turmoil that had arisen in the forest over the past few decades. They sought glory and adventure rather than trying to find peace.
The terek who led the three, white riders, was named Kalladros. He had been born in the southern city of Semorak but was currently fighting for the Ambelaran kingdom in hopes of one day receiving the greatest reward given to foreigners, a unicorn of his own.
All the great terek warriors in his people’s history had ridden unicorns but the unicorn population of the Western Region was near extinction, after years of conflict. Thus, Kalladros had chosen to venture to Ambelaras, where unicorns still roamed freely in small herds. For now, he had been loaned a unicorn by the Ambelaran military, but he was told he could one day tame one himself, with the Ambelaran king’s permission.
Kalladros had ice-blue eyes and long, white hair. He was quite tall and had a powerful build, making him an imposing figure atop his unicorn.
He led the two elves through the camp without too much trouble as they met little resistance. The orcs had gathered in a large, defensive formation near the northeastern gate in hopes of preventing any of the archers from entering. This had allowed the three riders to pass through the camp a bit further south without minimal resistance, given that most of the orcs were focused on stopping the escaping prisoners.
Kalladros was skilled at fighting from the back of his unicorn and quickly moving from one side of the unicorn to the other, his shifting weight adding momentum to his scimitar as he swung it at the orcs. He was often simply blocking their weapons in order to protect his unicorn but many of his swings struck the faces and necks of orcs, cutting through their leathery skin.
Every so often, Kalladros would glance up at his allies on the cliff, looking for directions as to where the escaped prisoners were by following the gazes of the group of archers who were further west.
As they approached the lumberyard, through which the escaped prisoners were currently passing, the three riders met more resistance. Many orcs were gathered here. Thankfully, the orcs were avoiding being out in the open, as the rocky cliffs above them were now speckled with over a hundred archers. The unicorns were thus able to pass through the wide openings, their riders cutting down the few orcs who dared stand int their way.
The two elves had planted their spears in the bodies of fallen orcs and were now also fighting with scimitars, though theirs were much shorter and had wider blades, resembling Alva’s. They weaved through the piles of lumber, killing several orcs by trampling them or with a precise strike to their necks or heads.
Kalladros was the first to reach the markhorkryn, who were leading the way for the other escapees. He yelled: “Where is the halfling?” As he passed by the first one, killing the orc that was attacking the hairy beast.
The terek’s question was answered as the small lady jumped onto a pile of logs near him, her fiery red hair shining in the bright sunlight. Kalladros understood that she was climbing up in order to jump onto his unicorn, having gathered that they had come to rescue her.
Suddenly, three orcs charged toward them and Kalladros was forced to move, leaving before the halfling had time to jump on. He cut the first one down and continued forward, allowing the markhorkryn to kill the others.Thankfully, an elf quickly took his place and helped the halfling onto the back of his unicorn.
One of the markhorkryn turned to Dassenar and said: “We can escape up the cliff! Save yourselves.” He then gestured toward the three riders on their white unicorns.
Dassenar nodded as he pushed back an orc sword and began making his way toward the terek, cutting open an orc’s belly then wounding another’s shoulder as he elegantly swung his scimitar to create a path for himself.
The three markhorkryn climbed onto log piles and jumped toward the steep, near-ninety-degree cliff. They caught onto small ledges with their hooves, swiftly climbing up to the elves with ease.
“Jump on!” Said Kalladros as he rode toward Dassenar. The terek had come to save the halfling, but thought it right to rescue the others as well.
Dassenar ran alongside the Kalladros’ unicorn, then leaped onto a log pile and bounced off it, pushing off with one foot and jumping onto the back of the white mare. The duo continued riding forward, their scimitars striking enemies on either side.
The second elven rider invited Drisdaru to climb onto the back of his mount and the Skarian warrior wasted no time. He quickly stepped onto logs as the others had done and joined the elf atop the unicorn, his long, dark hair flowing behind him as he jumped onto its back. The elf quickly urged his unicorn forward and followed Kalladros as he and Dassenar fought their way out of the lumberyard, the elf carrying the halfling having already left the area.
The three riders gathered in a large open space to the south and rode on, travelling even further south as many orcs had been alerted of their arrival and were trying to cut them off. They travelled swiftly, however, and managed to reach the gate, Dassenar and Drisdaru quickly dismounting to kill the handful of remaining orc guards and open it.
When the gate was opened, the two Skarians hoped back on the back of the unicorns as the Ambelarans rode through it, the trio of majestic beasts speeding across the small plain. They were relieved to see that no orcs were there to stop their escape but noticed something in the distance. Galloping toward them was Alva, riding Syleta and accompanied by Daibelor.
When the gate was opened, the two Skarians hoped back on the back of the unicorns as the Ambelarans rode through it, the trio of majestic beasts speeding across the small plain.
The riders slowed as thy neared Alva and Dassenar quickly dismounted to climb atop his unicorn. Drisdaru remained behind the elf who had initially picked him up and the group prepared to continue east.
As Kalladros rode past Alva, he recognized the elven ranger and said: “Alva? Who would have thought I would find you here? And wearing this black uniform!” He chuckled, the situation seeming absurd to him.
Alva smiled and said: “It’s good to see you too, Kalladros.”
“Look!” Came the voice of the elf who was carrying the halfling on his mount. He pointed at the orc camp and added: “We need to keep moving.”
Several gates were now open, and orcs were exiting them to chase after the group on rogshems, large, canine beasts which resembled hyenas and were often referred to as hellhounds by humans and elves. The colour of their fur varied from different shades of brown to beige or light-grey, but all had black spots or stripes and a crest of shaggy fur, running down their backs, much like those of striped hyenas.
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Much like hyenas, the rogshems made high-pitched sounds that resembled giggling as they chased their prey with uncontrollable excitement. This eerie sound was unsettling to both the riders and their mounts as it echoed in the valley.
The unicorns could gallop just as fast as the rogshems but Syleta couldn’t keep up and the one carrying the elf and Drisdaru was weighed down. They could only begin to outpace the rogshems over a longer distance as the beasts would tire much faster.
As she rode, Alva twisted her body back to shoot at the orcs. She landed a few arrows, killing one of the orcs and causing him to slide off his mount. This slowed the others nearby as they were forced to leap over the falling body, but the orcs were quickly gaining on them.
Lead by Kalladros, the group neared an area with large boulders and a small forest beyond them. Kalladros turned his head back to see the rogshems just behind Alva and Syleta and pulled on the rains, causing his unicorn to slow down very quickly and rear as she turned to face the cliffs to the right. His arm upright, scimitar in hand, Kalladros turned to face the orcs, yelling: “Turn and fight!” as the unicorn twisted further to the right, facing the oncoming rogshems. As its front hooves touched the ground, the magnificent, white creature began galloping toward the brutish beasts that hunted it.
Reacting quickly, Dassenar and Daibelor turned as well, charging alongside the terek. The elf carrying the halfling did the same moments later, riding further back, forming a triangle with Dassenar and Kalladros. The unicorn carrying the elven warrior and Drisdaru turned toward the forest in the north.
As she neared the Ambelaran warrior carrying the halfling, the rider slapped the side of his mount twice in a gentle way. This was an Ambelaran code, signaling Alva to come near him. She did as he asked and as she rode past, the halfling jumped onto Syleta, her short arms wrapping around Alva’s waist.
The first rogshem to reach Dassenar leaped toward him, its orcish rider swinging a long, elven sword, resembling a dadao, at him. Daibelor veered left, dodging the rogshem’s jaws as Dassenar ducked, the elven blade passing just above his head.
He quickly rose and swung out his scimitar, which he had tucked back on his left side, his right arm held tightly against his chest. He moved the blade in a semi-circle, twisting his body to strike the goshem’s back leg. The blade made contact, cutting into its thigh.
During this time, Kalladros too was attacked by a rogshem managed to score a hit on the ugly creature’s face, blinding its left eye then pulling his scimitar up to block the rider’s axe.
As he rode past, another orc rider threw a spear at him, which he managed to dodge by ducking.
Daibelor, and the other two unicorns twisted left and right, swinging their bodies to dodge the rogshems as the leaped toward them and creating many opportunities for their riders to strike at both the rogshems and the orcs on their backs.
For a moment, Dassenar regretted following the terek, as it seemed they didn’t have much of a chance of surviving this charge, but perhaps he had simply chosen to sacrifice himself in order to give the others a chance of escaping. Things changed, however, as Ambelaran archers appeared, running along the large boulders, and shooting arrows at the rogshems.
Soon, white owls soared above them, swooping down to pull the orcish riders off their mounts with their great talons, their riders shooting arrows at nearby orcs. There were around fifteen owls, flying down from the north and focusing on the rogshems that were approaching Dassenar, Kalladros and the other Ambelaran warrior.
After swooping down once, the owls flew up again, allowing the archers to shoot their bows at the remaining rogshems, and avoiding the arrows of the oncoming orcish archers.
Further east, Alva rode through an area with many of the large boulders, weaving through them to try and dodge the rogshems that had managed to get past the three riders and killing several more orcs with well placed shots.
The roghsems, however, could easily jump onto any of the boulders and were using the large, stone platforms to leap toward her, nearly landing on Syleta’s rear multiple times.
Drisdaru had been given an elven sword and covered the left side of the unicorn while the elven rider focused on the right. They were managing to protect themselves and the mount, but their chances of reaching the forest appeared to be slim as they were still a hundred meters from its edge and every rogshem or orcish strike seemed to be getting closer to success.
Thankfully, dozens of elves in white clothes began appearing from behind large boulders, climbing onto them, or seeking cover behind them to shoot their bows. Many elves also climbed into the trees near the forest’s edge, using the high vantage point to aim down at the orcs.
As Kalladros noticed they had passed the first wave of rogshems, a small group of about twenty, which had been able to leave the camp faster than the rest, he turned north. Dassenar and the other elf followed, hurrying before the next wave of rogshems caught up to them, its size more than triple that of the one they had just encountered.
Many rogshems they had passed had also turned back to pursue them, quickly catching up to them. These, however, were quickly slain by the many Ambelaran rangers who were running through the rocky field, stopping to shoot arrows every so often as a rogshem neared.
As a force of about three hundred Ambelarans gathered at the edge of the valley, most of which were rangers, their bows firing at the oncoming rogshems, the orcs turned back toward their camp.
The escape had been successful.
*****
Dassenar, Alva, Drisdaru and the three markhorkryn were invited to join the Ambelarans at their camp as the elves retreated from the valley, having accomplished their mission of saving the halfling.
Though they were pressed for time, Alva had convinced Dassenar to join the elves for a meal before heading back to warn the main force.
Drisdaru joined them and explained he had been sent to Firildor with reinforcements. He had arrived at the fortress a week after it had fallen to the barbarians and his warriors all been killed in an Eshgir ambush. His only choice had been to continue east, to Arendil.
The three markhorkryn agreed to come along as well, their entire village having been annihilated by the orcs a few weeks earlier, leaving them with few other options than to join up with whichever army would take them.
The elves had made up camp to the east, in a large valley north of the road. The many Ambelaran rangers sent as scouts had managed to keep any orcs who saw them from reporting back to the large camp, preserving the element of surprise.
The elves were only there to free the halfling and they wouldn’t be able to help the small Skarian force defeat such a large army of orcs. The reason they had travelled this far into the Noriondir Mountains had been to free Naolie. She was the daughter of the Lord of Quilias, a halfling settlement in the northeast where the Ambelarans often replenished their provisions.
Having heard of the orc tribe’s approach, a large force had been sent to protect the halfling village, high in the mountains. Unfortunately, the villagers had not been warned and, despite the elves protecting the village from the orcs, several residents had been out in the surrounding region and didn’t have time to return before the arrival of the brutish raiders. Most were killed, but Naolie was spared and captured as the leader of the orc raiding party thought her bright orange hair made her special.
Zashren, as he was called, had similarly coloured hair but his was darker and did not shine as that of the Lord’s daughter. The especially tall, grey skinned orc had treated his captive well, hoping to extract her essence with the help of a shaman. Thankfully, Naolie had escaped before they could harm her in any way.
The elves had saved Naolie as they had made a pact to protect all citizens of Quilias from foes in exchange for the supplies the halflings had provided them over many years. Furthermore, with the orcs making their way east to raid settlements, the holy city of Nir Dinriel was potentially in danger. The Ambelarans would, thus, need to be keep a large force in the mountains, making their relations with Quilias all the more important.
As they sat and spoke to the elves in a large, white tent, Alva explained to Dassenar that she had previously fought alongside Kalladros and the two of them had become good friends.
“She left without saying goodbye, though.” The Terek pointed out. “I guess I’m just not that important to her.” He added, smiling.
“You were in Virindal, helping the child!” Retorted Alva, referencing the nine-year-old monarch of the southern kingdom, situated in the Western Region of the forest. “I couldn’t have known you’d be traveling back south to protect Quilias.”
“I’m only kidding.” Said Kalladros. “Though, I wish you weren’t making this foolish mistake. You belong in Ambelaras, with your people.” Kalladros’ voice had a hint of anger as he spoke. “They will need you now more than ever as we hold off the orcs.”
“I’m sure they’ll manage without me, Kalladros.” Answered Alva in a soft tone. “They have you!”
“I don’t understand why you feel the need to leave and help these Skarians on their desperate mission.” Continued Kalladros, hoping to change the elven ranger’s mind. “I understand you’re fed up with the overbearing rules of Ambelar’s priests, but here you need only follow a handful of them. Here, you can be free and remain with your people.” He paused, his head tilting forward slightly, his large horns rising behind him. “Here, you can be with me.”
“I can’t come back.” Answered Alva, apologetically. “I don’t expect you to understand, but this is what I must do. One day I may belong in Ambelaras again, but, for now, my place is anywhere but there. I have found a noble purpose in aiding Dassenar and his people and intend to accompany them to the Skarian heartland, regardless of the dangers the road west may present.”
Dassenar felt uneasy as he got the impression there had been more than friendship between the two. The way Kalladros spoke made him think there might have been a romantic aspect to their relationship, putting him in awkward position as he didn’t feel he should be a part of such a conversation.
He rose to his feet and walked over to a table where food had been placed. He filled most of his plate with a dish composed of root vegetables and candied walnuts, then added some sweet potato mash and raspberry coulis. The meal seemed far more appetizing than the bland food he had been eating in Arendil.
On his way back to the table, Dassenar looked at Alva and Kalladros, who still seemed to be engaged in deep conversation and chose to sit elsewhere. He sat beside Drisdaru and the markhorkryn, who were talking to Celordan, the leader of the Ambelaran force which had been sent to protect Quilias.
Celordan was a young, elven commander in his thirties. He was a Vraesamdir, which simply meant great warrior but represented far more. The rank of Vraesamdir was one of the highest in the Ambelaran army.
Celordan’s white armor had the same shape as that of the other armored soldiers in his force, though, the spikes on the shoulder and helmet were at an angle slightly closer to ninety degrees, making the armor look a bit less sleek and more imposing. The many pieces were also lined in thin, golden designs along the edges, which were in the shape of branches with blooming flowers. They were small and subtle, but masterfully engraved.
He had long, white hair and blue eyes, as most Ambelarans, and his features too were very typical of Nilduran elves. His smooth, pale face was often expressionless, though his voice was soft and kind.
The elven leader had removed his helmet and placed it on the bench upon which he was sitting and was enjoying a nice meal with his guests.
“I have some good news, Dassenar.” Said Drisdaru as the red-haired elf sat beside him. “Amun, Fyras and Murlesh have decided to join us in our journey west.”
Dassenar nodded, his face showing he was a bit confused. “I assume those are the names of these markhorkryn warriors?” He answered in a questioning tone.
“Yes, indeed.” Replied Drisdaru.
“I’d be glad to have them join us.” Said Dassenar. “Without them, we’d likely be dead.”
“I’m sure you would have managed on your own.” Said Amun, the most extroverted of the three. His deep, cavernous voice had sounded harsh on the battlefield but was now a lot more smooth and pleasant. “We are at your service, if you will have us.”
“Skaria never turns down excellent warriors such as you.” Answered Dassenar.
“Celordan has even offered four horses for my kin and Drisdaru to ride.” Added Amun.
“I’m not sure how we could possibly repay you, Celordan.” Said Dassenar, before bowing his head in the Vraesamdir’s direction.
“There is no need.” Answered Celordan. “Those who fight for good must band together if we are to stand a chance against the evil that grips the hearts of weaker races.”
Dassenar wasn’t surprised by the racist views of the elven leader. These were common in elven culture. It had been a major point of contention between the Skarians and Nildurans when they had been close allies.
Dassenar simply chose to ignore the remarks. His views regarding the orcish situation were far different. Admittedly, they are a brutal and savage race which often seeks conflict, but that’s not so different from many tereks and elves. He thought. There are also many peaceful orcs and many of the ones in Odronak’s Eradicators are likely fighting to survive as other orcish tribes compete for the same territory and resources.
To Dassenar, there were not good or evil races. Members of each race could be lacking in morals and contribute to chaos of the world, but overall, most peoples were simply reacting to the circumstances they faced. Few truly enjoyed war, though the young often glamorized it and saw it as a way to prove themselves.
Most of the seemingly bloodthirsty and savage nations had become thus in order to endure. This was a sign of intelligence rather than lack there of as they had taken the right steps for the survival of their kin. Though trolls were an exception, their intelligence being comparable to that of an infant.
If anything, Dassenar felt as though the Skarians were to blame. They had conquered Simanor and disrupted the pre-existing balance that had been established centuries prior to their arrival. No major conflicts had been recorder for centuries and many had erupted every few years since their arrival.
Feeling the tension as both Dassenar and Celordan had been eating silently, Drisdaru chose to change the subject.
“This is excellent food, but it would be well accompanied with some meat.” Said the Skarian captain.
“For what purpose?” Asked Celordan. “The animals find their nourishment in the things on your plate.”
Dassenar smiled and added. “Given that I too am vegetarian, I must agree. You’re just sparing their lives and getting your nutrients straight from the source.”
Drisdaru had forgotten that Dassenar, like most elves, did not eat meat and followed strict rules when it came to eating products made by animals, such as honey or eggs.
The elves felt they were meant to care for and protect all living things. Though, in this age, this feeling was seldom extended to other sentient races. They wished to reserve the right to live in Nilduras to those who held the same morals and values, limiting their impact on the creations of Geldaria and Nirdalune. Civilizations who failed to do so, were treated as a blight and violently repelled or annihilated.
Realizing he was likely the only meat-eater at the table, Drisdaru laughed an added. “Well, perhaps we could all agree some ale would be good?”
Dassenar laughed and replied. “I wouldn’t mind an ale, though we have a long journey ahead of us.” He paused, turning to face Drisdaru. “But I must say, I would prefer wine.”
The three warriors laughed, and the conversation remained light-hearted as they finished their meals.
Dassenar, Alva, Drisdaru and the three markhorkryn left soon after. The elven steeds had been prepared as they ate, and they had even been given provisions for the next few days.
Dassenar and Drisdaru thanked Celordan once again as they left. Having learned that Drisdaru had saved Naolie’s life during their captivity, the Vraesadmir gifted him a stately, Skarian arming sword which they had recovered from an orc leader in the north. It was in fine shape for such an old weapon. Dassenar reconned that it had been lost by a Skarian general in the battle for Henedral’s pass decades prior. Having lost his weapons to the orcs, Drisdaru was especially grateful for the generous gift.
Kalladros finally accepted that he could not convince Alva to stay and wished her well, holding her tight in his arms before she climbed atop Syleta.
The young terek headed straight to his unicorn and climbed atop the majestic creature. He was already preparing to take the road north with the handful of other riders in their smally army. The roads they would be taking weren’t ideal for horses, hence Dassenar’s decision not to send his people along them. It would be a slow and dangerous voyage back with the horses, but the unicorns were much better at handling such terrain.
Dassenar the group south, where they took the road east, passing several elven patrols on their way. They road hard and reached Henedral’s convoy as they were setting up camp in the late afternoon.
Dassenar quickly explained the situation and the group made plans to turn back west the following morning.
Realizing that Dassenar had been speaking as if Henedral would be in charge of the convoy again, Alva asked: “Will we be scouting out ahead again?”
“No, we travel south.” Answered Dassenar.
Alva, Drisdaru and Henedral gave the elven commander a confused look.
“We must warn the villages.” Continued Dassenar in a calm tone. “With the Ambelarans keeping the orcs at bay in the east, they will surely travel further south in search of more settlements to raid.”
“Henedral, you will lead the main force north.” Said Dassenar, turning toward the aging commander. “Stick to the eastern side of the mountains. It may be a difficult route, but the Ambelarans guard it. We will hopefully meet you in less than two weeks time! If you arrive in Gorodim before we do so, look for the gelvor willow, where the rivers meet. It shouldn’t be hard to find. It is said there is an elven outpost there, but Alva told me they were from a peaceful and friendly kingdom. You can wait there for a few days, but do not linger too long. If we have not reached you by then, we likely never will.”
Henedral nodded in agreement as Dassenar paused. The aging commander had never ventured into the marsh, having had no reason to do so, but he had heard many stories of the dangers within it.
Dassenar looked Henedral in he eyes as he continued. “Taldar will accompany us. Appoint a new leader for the rear guard. Taldar’s riders can keep their position there and a few should be sent ahead as scouts, as Alva and I were doing.”
“As you command.” Answered Henedral in a grave tone.
“Amun, one of the markhorkryn, will be accompanying you, but Murlesh and Fyras have asked to come south with us.” Added Dassenar.
“They are excellent fighters and seem worthy of a chance to gain our trust.” Continued the red-haired elf before stepping closer to the general and adding: “But do keep an eye on him. He seemed a little too eager to join our hopeless cause.”
Henedral nodded, his face stern.
“Take some time to wish your son farewell.” Continued Dassenar. “I know not what awaits us in the south, nor what awaits you in the north.”