Young Writers Society

Carmenia shouldered her pack, and gave the room one last survey before she left, just to make sure she had everything.

It appeared she did. Just as she was turning to leave, a small glint of light reflected off some shiny object halfway hidden beneath a bunk. Curiously, she knelt down and examined it.

Her hair comb. She ran her thumb over two of the emeralds that adorned it, it reminded her of something...and yet she could not put a finger on it....

A memory of Henry's green eyes flashed in her mind, and she stiffened. Hadn't she gotten over him already? Sighing, she dropped the hair comb into the bag, letting her memory of Henry fade along with it.

Of course she couldn't let herself get attached to a human. Of course. Standing up, she brushed her knee's off and walked out into the sunshine.

The camp surely was busy, she thought to herself, as she watched the people of mixed ranks walk by. The soldiers didn't even have time to stop and make a rude remark about her. Thank goodness.

She wasn't sure she could handle one more lingering look or crude remark from anybody. In fact, she was afraid she would have probably hurt them.

Soldiers indeed, she scoffed, they could barely hurt a rabbit if they wanted to, much less an elven woman. Of course, her picture of human soldiers wasn't really accurate, but it was what she thought, and she had been trained in quite a bit of swordplay when she was in her land.

Indeed, she had disarmed not a few Elvish lads when practicing. She figured it was not wise to reveal this to her company. She hadn't been sure how they would react when she had first met them, and now she wasn't sure how they would act after having it kept a secret from them.

Overall it was better not to mention it, and she was sure it would be very useful at one point. Suddenly she spotted a slightly angry Finn.

"Finn!" She cried out, catching up to her. Finn turned around.

"Wha'?" Was her irritable reply in that thick horrid accent. Carmenia nearly winced.

"I-I...it's just good to see you." She said, smiling. Finn scowled. Hadn't they just seen it each other that morning?

Finn is in a very bad mood, indeed, Carmenia mused. She wondered why...

Seraph

Eyebrows narrowed, I strode purposefully toward the blacksmith's tent once more.

They saw me coming, and one of them shrugged in apology.

"Lord Belfast, your shield is not done yet, it's only beena few hours--"

I held up my hand to silence him.

"I just need a replacement. Give me what you have."

He nodded and jerked his head at his apprentice, who hurried back into the tent to look for a suitable shield. The blacksmith looked at me when the lad disappeared behind the tent flap. His greying hair and beard showed his experience, and the bulging muscles of his arms showed his dedication to his craft.

"How long have you been at this?" I asked him. He looked taken aback by the casual question.

"All m'life, Sir. M'father taught me."

I nodded in approval. On a nearby table lay various weapons in progreess. I picked one up tentatively. Despite its rough appearance, I could tell it already had the look of a master craftsman. "I think I made the right choice, when I commissioned you to repair my shield. Do what you can. Here is your promised payment."

I dropped a pouch into his hands, slightly heavier than the first I had given him, hours before.

"Lord Belfast, this is not necessary--"

"One such as yourself should not be working for the pitiful wages the military grants. When you are ready to make real money, send word to me...if you can get a messenger to my land." He looked slightly puzzled.

I tapped the pouch that sat in the palm of his hand. "The Blood Plains. This pouch, and the gold contained within, is invitation enough."

Slowly, he nodded. "I'll think on it, Lord Belfast." Then the apprentice returned, carrying an armload of shields. I carefully set them on a mostly empty table, then stepped back so I could get at them. I sifted through them gently; all of them were of better than average quality, but none of them stood out as exceptional. I selected one that was about the right size and weight of my own shield, and hefted it.

"This one will do."

The blaksmith nodded. "Take it--you've more than paid for it and your shield, M'lord."

"My thanks," I said to him. "I shall return for my shield in due course. If reports come of my death...you are free to do with it, and my gold, as you choose."

The man shook his head. "It will be sent back to your homeland, Lord. A shiled such as this does not deserved to be pawned."

I smiled at him and walked straight to the makeshift stables the camp had set up. The time had come.

Sirloaz


Sirloaz cursed himself; he had lost track of Henry. He dismounted and tied the reins of his horse to a nearby tree, then slunk into the bushes.

The rogue's footprints were much harder to trace than others--the man moved like an elf. Sirloaz found the trail, though, and tracked Henry to the one of the fenced walls of the cemetary. The rogue's footprints followed the fence, around--he was obviously had obviously been watching the elves.

Deeper imprints and scuff marks indicated that he had sat for a while, watching something. Sirloaz loked into the cemetary, but saw nothing. He continued to follow Henry's trail.

Then almost as if from magic, he saw Henry crouched near a bush, his crossbow resting on the wall, positioned between to of the iron fence poles. His eyes were narrowed in what seemed to be great concentration. He w as motionless, and Sirloaz could still barely see him, even though he knew he was there, the rogue blended so well into the shadows.

"I thought you could use some help," Sirloaz whispered quietly, wanting to get the rogue's attention, but not atartle him into shooting him.

Becky

Becky pulled her father's sword from its rose sheath. She had always thought the decorated sheath was a little girly for a colonel to be toting around.

"It's special," he had said. "Your mother made it for me."

Becky gritted her teeth, and forced herself to think about something else. Her first, and possibly only chance to avenge herself was coming, and she hadn't learned a thing, apart from how to chop wood and cook for an army.

She needed instruction, and fast.

The griffin wasn't going to be any good with a sword, her only weapon. Seraph didn't want anything to do with her, there was no way she was learning from an elf, even one on her side. Henry had just rode off into the sunset. Who was left?

The sword was heavy in her hand, the blade sharp and free of scratches. She thrust it forward, wishing her father had taught her more.

"What are you doing?"

Becky whirled around, startled. "'M practicin', sir. Nothin'."

It was prince Valin. The elf. Becky couldn't look at him.

"I saw that. I mean here. What are you doing here?"

He was talking to her as if she were a child. Slowly, and with contempt.

"I'm allowed, en't I? Harris said. An' the griffin. I'm training. Well," she added as an afterthought. "In theory."

"I thought you were a maid. I saw you chopping, and in the kitchens."

Becky flushed. "I en't a maid. I'm an apprentice."

"Fine. Your footwork was wrong."

"What?"

"While you were 'practicing.' You need to watch your footwork. Without a good foundation, your sword can't help you. You'll topple over. Try again."

Becky considered refusing the elf. His people were responsible for the destruction of Sedgeley. Elves were savage.

Not bothering to try to wipe the contempt off her face, (not that it would have worked,) Becky tried again, darting forward, sword outstretched.

"No. You're crossing your feet. Do it like this." He demonstrated, either not noticing or ignoring her facial expression.

Becky imitated him, her feet clunky.

"Closer, but now you're lifting them up too much. It's better if they just skim the ground. You aren't waltzing, girl."

"Yes, sir."

"Now I have things to do. Stay out of the way."

"Yes, sir," Becky said, watching him leave. Watching her last chance at learning to fight, round the corner, disappear behind a tent and be lost-

"Hey! Hey, wait!" she shouted, running after him. "Please, teach me jus' a bit more?"



(Sab, is this okay? I hope Valin's character is right. Let me know if it isn't and I'll change it.)

(Its fine, its pretty much dead on)

Valin was going on towards the barracks to put on his armor and get ready to leave camp, when the child-like creature came tumbling around the corner yelling
"Hey! Hey, wait! Please teach me jus' a bit more?"

Valin stopped midstride, sighed audibly, turned around and spoke.
"Alright, I guess you better learn something so you don't get us all killed," he said. "I will train you in the proper ways to fight on three conditions,"
"Name it," Becky said.
"First, you continue being Alden's "apprentice", and report to me what he teaches you, as I never would trust a creature without opposable thumbs on how to fight with a sword, two, you do as I say, when I say it, three...you help me with my armor when I'm done"
"Yes, I agree, I'll do't!" Becky said, eager to learn.
"Good," Valin said. "Let me see your sword."
Becky handed it to him, and he hefted it into the air and spun it around in his hands a few times.
"Ah yes, good Nircassian steel. Its a good blade, take good care of it," Valin said, handing it back to her.
"Yes, sir," Becky said.
"And don't call me SIR!" Valin said irritably. He continued,
"Now. Attack me."
Becky looked apprehensive.
"S-S-Si...Prince Valin?" She said disbelieving.
"Don't worry, Becky, I'll be fine. Attack me," Valin said, picking a stick up off the ground.
She did so. She charged at him attempting a thrusting attack towards Valin's midsection.
Valin simply stepped out of the way.
"Try again," he said. Again Becky charged, this time, with an over-the-head slice preparing to meet Valin's flesh. Valin sidestepped the falling blade by many inches, and thwapped Becky in the side.
"Like I said, your biggest problem now is footwork. We'll practice more later. but for now, you have an oath to uphold," Valin said, turning on his heel towars the officers' quarters, and beckoning her to follow.

"Mrmphfuffle."

Carmenia didn't seem to understand my response to her meek greeting, probably chalking it up to my accent again instead of an attempt to restrain my tongue. Sure, she was nice enough, but I didn't particularly care whether or not she was glad to see me. As she was still trying to make sense of my reply, I brushed past her, hiking my pack further up on my back.

"We're leavin'," I called over my shoulder as I stalked away. "Now."

On my way towards the stables, I stopped by the blacksmith. He looked up at me, and I drew myself up to my full height -- which was still considerably shorter than him. "'M one o' th' Elites," I introduced brusquely. "Finn Chant." His eyes widened a little, and he eyed me speculatively, probably wondering how exactly such a small, nondescript woman had found her way into such 'elite' ranks.

"What can I do you for, Elite Chant?"

I blinked at the title for a moment, then shook it off. "I en't got no money."

"'S all right. We're under orders, you see, to give you lot all you need, on promise of compensation when you return." He glanced at my quarterstaff, then looked me over once again, probably looking for other weaponry. "What can I do you for?" he asked again.

"Daggers. Good 'uns."

He nodded just as tersely, and fifteen minutes later I left the blacksmith's with not only my own five daggers but three new blades, of far better quality than I could've ever dreamed of owning. I tucked one into the holster against my wrist, one in its sheath in the top of my boot, and another at my belt. My own five I tucked safely away in my pack as I headed for the stables.

It shouldn't have come as a surprise to find Seraph there, adjusting the girth on his mount's saddle. He looked up when I entered, but I looked pointedly away, refusing to meet his gaze or return his acknowledgement. One of the stable hands brought out an average-sized mare, and another followed with the saddle.

"Wha's 'er name?" I asked the youth as he settled the saddle against her withers, straightening the thin, worn pad underneath.

"She don't got one." He didn't speak any more, just finished with the saddle and handed me the bridle, which I fed into her mouth gently. She tossed her gray head irritably at the feeling of cold metal beneath her tongue, pawing at the sawdust, but otherwise remained calm.

"Astril," I said. "She's Astril." It was the name my brother had given to his horse...

I patted her cheek once more, then led her out into the courtyard, where Seraph was mounted and waiting. It was a challenge -- even though she was a relatively average height, I was quite a bit shorter than the normal woman -- but I swung myself up into Astril's saddle and, adjusting my quarterstaff so it would neither hinder nor harm Astril or myself, I clicked my tongue and with a squeeze of my legs urged her into a light trot.

"Lead on," I muttered at Seraph. Despite my words, though, I was the one who led the way out of the camp and turned my face towards what had once been my home.

PLACEHOLDER. Typing now...

Carmenia watched carefully as Finn was given daggers. So that's how it works...

Humans were so strange, Carmenia thought, well, if it worked for her, it can work for me.

After Finn moved away, Carmenia stepped up. The blacksmith glanced at the elf woman before asking, "You an Elite also?"

"Of course." Carmenia said authoritatively, "I need a sword. The best you have." Though it probably wouldn't compare to the poorest the Elves had to offer...

The blacksmith looked around and after searching for a moment, presented her with a sword in a leather sheath.

"She's a 'beaut, really." He said, reluctantly handing it over to Carmenia. She withdrew the blade from its sheath and critically studied it.

She checked it balance, pretty good. The blacksmith nodded, this elf-woman was obviously a master of the sword, he deduced, from the way she held it.

"Don't think you'll find anythin' wrong with it. Some o' the best I made, I hate to par' with her."

"Do you demand payment now?" She asked.

"'Naw, jus' when you 'turn."

She nodded and sheathed the sword, slipping it onto her hip. Walking towards the stable, she heard a loud neighing, and magnificent black horse was led out, just barely dragging the stable boy along.

Rearing, the frightened boy finally let go of halter and lept out of the way of the trampling hooves. She held out a gentle hand and placed it on the horses muzzle. It immediately calmed. What spirit, she marveled, and in a horse which not a drop of Elven blood runs.

She lept onto it's back, and nudging it, they galloped after Seraph and Finn, who had by now were far ahead of them.

It took Valin just as long, if not longer, to dress himself properly for battle with Becky's help than it would have taken him by himself. Everytime he gave her an instruction on what to do, she would ask stupid questions like
"Pal'ron? Whas'at?"
After he explained each and every peice of armor to her, and what purpose it served, he finally got his armor on with Becky serving as a sort of page, tightening paldron straps, fastening grieves, and the like.

Today, Valin decided to dress himself more according to his stature than he would've if they weren't riding on an Elven army. He wore his full set of armor, on the outside of his linen shirt, something he hadn't done since he fled the Elven lands. He draped only one cloak around himself, wrapping it around his back and shoulders as combination cloak and sash. Indeed, he looked nearly regal, with two exceptions. The first being he wore no crown, the second that the cloth he did wear was of black hue, rather than the purple of the Elven royal house. However, he did wear the amulet he showed to Carmenia the night before, called the "Tears of Isha" on the outside of his armor, proclaiming his birthright. He finally strapped his belt around himself, and strapped both his longswords to his belt, as well as his short sword. He put his daggers in their various positions he was used to having them in, and he strapped his quiver and bow about his back.

He briskly walked towards the stable, in desperate need of a mount. He was walking so fast that he nearly lost Becky, whom he thought of at the moment of as a "child-creature". When he enterred the stable, he was the closest thing to royalty the stable hands had ever seen that they immediately knelt down before him.
"Arise, please, stand up," Valin said. As they got up, Valin walked up to the man who looked to be the lead stable-hand.
"Are you in charge of this stable, sir?"
"Aye, I em, M'Lord," he said, averting his eyes.
"Don't avert your eyes to me, sir. I need your full attention to my needs," Valin said, slightly curtly.
"Of course, Milord! I wer'nt meanin' no harm!"
"I know. Now," Valin said, continuing, "I am in desperate need of a mount. One who has a feirce temperament and great spirit in him"
"O'course, Milord, but all the firecest mounts were all taken by the other Elites, Sir," the head stable hand said.
"You have no other mounts that meet my needs?" Valin asked, withdrawing from his cloak a large sack of gold.
"Er, well, th're is one 'orse, bu' 'Es got a temper on 'im," the head stable hand said. "We 'aven't been able ta break 'im yet, Milord, it wouldn't be safe fer ya," he continued.
"My dear sir," Valin said, "I am more familiar with horses, than you could ever hope to be...I was raised with horses, you see. In fact, the joke goes that I was born in a saddle...just bring me the steed," Valin said.
"Okay, Milord," he said, leading Valin to the horses pen, where a beautiful mottled grey stalion was rearing and kicking at a stableboy.

Valin stepped forward, looked the steed in the eyes, and said simply,
"Calma, calma. Boe inae ta (Calm, calm, we are kindred spirits"
Immediately, the steed settled down, and allowed Valin to fasten a saddle to him and mount him.

"You stay here with Alden, Becky, I'm meeting up with Seraph and Finn!" he yelled, as he gallopped out of the stable to go catch up with the couple.

A few minutes later, he caught up with the pair, right as they were approaching the gate in the wall of the fortress, if you could call it that. More of a glorified encampment really. But he caught up with Seraph and Finn, both of whom took notice of his rather drastic change in attire, but neither wanting to be the first to say anything. Seraph just raised his eyebrow in a questioning sort of manner.

"What, Seraph?" Valin asked. "You told me I should start acting like the Prince that I am, so I figured since we may very well meet Elven warriors in battle today, I may as well look the part I am playing" He said with a grin.

"An' wha' part is tha'?" Finn asked.

"That would be the part of an exiled Elven prince, returned to his realm to reclaim his throne as king" Valin said, matter of factly.

"Ok, righ' jus' checkin'" Finn said, playing along, taking the gib in stride.

"Well, what are we waiting for?" Seraph asked. "Lets ride!" at which point he kicked his horse in its shanks, propelling it forward into a quick gallop.

OOC: I made this with Sieg this morning, but he was busy and didn't have time to post it.

Adrian
"Feh," Adrian muttered, pacing back and forth behind his tent. "I'm pathetic. Damn this fear, and my cursed inability to fight like a man. I should have just let her brand me."

His armor clinked as he paced, fuming. The fear was back, urging him to run, to flee, and preserve his life.

There was a sound behind him, and Adrian jumped. The girl he had met earlier was standing behind the tent.

"Sorry sir," she said. "I- um- er..."

"What were you doing?

"Nothing! I jus' came to apologize. You know, fer what I said before, while I was choppin'. In case I die while we're fightin'."

"That's alright," Adrian said, automatically. "You didn't... Didn't hear anything, did you?

"No!" she squeaked, guiltily. "Not a thing!" Adrian studied her face. Liar, he thought.

"Well, maybe a bit, but not too much. Honest."

Still lying. Adrian could tell.

"Okay, okay, I heard it all but I won't tell or nothin'. "

Adrian blushed. "All of it?"

"I've been here a while. I didn' want ta interrupt."

Next time, Adrian thought, feeling his blush deepen, I'd rather you did.

"You shouldn't eaves drop, but I guess I need to stop talking to myself."

"But it's okay, you know sir. " She continued, looking sad. "I've been a coward too."

He didn't press the subject. "You used to live in Sedgeley?"

"Don't matter none. Anyway, I'm off. I've got to go get some armor or somethin', and then I've got to see the griffin. I don' want t' ride a horse, but it looks like I might have ta. Sorry, again, sir."

"Good bye," Adrian said, watching the strange human retreat. He scuffed the dirt with his boot, starting to pace again. "Feh," he muttered. "I'm pathetic."

Alden found Becky wandering around.

"The group's about to leave, where's your horse?"

"I don't have one sir."

"You'll need one. I'm strong, but carrying a person in full battle armor isn't an easy task and a horse is better employed for the task. Do you know how to ride?"

"Yes," she said.

"Then grab a horse or you can be left behind."

A few moments later, she appeared on a horse. She looked very uncomfortable.

"When do I begin learning swordsmanship?"

"When we catch up with the swordsmen," Alden responded. They took off after Seraph and Valin.

"I thought you could use some help," Sirloaz whispered quietly, wanting to get the rogue's attention, but not startle him into shooting him. Henry spun around at the noise anyway raising his crossbow level with Sirloaz's face, his finger twitching. Sirloaz just stared at Henry as the bolt while still in the crossbow cut his cheek.

Henry's face was hardened in anger but softened as he recognized his comrade. Sirloaz just knelt there as the crossbow was lowered. "Sirloaz, what're you doin' 'ere? come ta' stop meh?" Henry said as he sat down heavily with a thud.

"No, I thought you could use some help" sirloaz said sincerely searching his lost comrade for any inkling as to what he might be thinking.

"'m fine" Henry grunted as he stood.

"No, you're not, you are going to get yourself killed" Sirloaz retorted standing as well following henry to his horse.

"I don't need 'ur 'elp"

"Henry--" Sirloaz said as Henry spun around cutting him off.

"You saw what those bastards did, slaughtered them, fucking elves. Have you no heart at all? Is there anything up there? cause all I see is an empty shell. Now those people down at sedgeley they had real lives, they were real people." Henry said his voice raised as he glared into Sirloaz's eyes.

"Don't act like you know anything about me! It takes every fiber of power in my body to act like I do, all the time my mind is screaming for action for vengance" sirloaz yelled back. "So many times i've wanted to go out and kill the bastards who destroyed that village. Do you remember what happened down in those tunnels, those duregar; how I slaughtered them, ripped apart like animals? That is part of who I am, and I do not want to see a friend turn out like me!"

"Hey--" Henry said half confused and angry

"You have something to live for, I've noticed how you and Carmenia act around each other, Do not throw your life away!" Sirloaz finished as he fell against a tree sliding down grasping his throbbing head, his anger and hangover beating his skull like a hammer on anvil.


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*a little further out in the forest*

Yelling reached the trained elven ears of the Harbingers. "Lasrum aeln" 'we go back' one of them said to the other. then communication with quick hand motions they turned around and dashed to the source of the yelling, their deft footsteps hardly stirring the leaves as they ran through the forest hands straying to their weapons.

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"Fool! KIll him Now!" a voice said stirred by his passionate emotions. "If you won't I will, weakling" it said fighting for control.

"No, no, no, no" Sirloaz said shaking

"What?!" Henry said confused and concerned

Shoving henry away Sirloaz continued "Just go away, leave me, I must settle this" He said painfully. Henry just stood their motionless. "GO NOW!" sirloaz screamed.

"No, what ever it is we will face it together."

"You can't, you just don't understand" Sirloaz said loosing control as tears began to come forth. "please, just run, don't look back" He gasped; and henry did just that picked up his crossbow jumped on his horse and galloped away. Sirloaz roared in pain, twitched, and lay still.

The harbingers walked out upon the scene, one of them taping Sirloaz with its foot as Sirloaz paled, his mouth agape. "This one's dead already" the Harbinger said, "the one on the horse has been tracking us all day, we should catch up."

"Agreed" another said nodding in approval, signaling for the others to follow suit they ran down the road.

After the dust settled, Sirloaz got up to his knees. His eyes clouded over, he unsheathed the older dagger he had retaken from henry when he wasn't looking. "to add to your sin's" the voice said coming from Sirloaz as he ran off into the forest.

Henry's heart was thumping faster than ever as he darted through the woodland, trying to make as little noise and damage as possible while still trying to move fast. He had abandoned the horse. He never really felt comfortable riding, and he thought he a condiserably higher chance with hiding out in the foliage. Henry was an expert at stealth, so after moving far away enough from where Sirloaz was, he stopped behind a tree and loaded his crossbow again. The bolt slipped in with a tiny click, one which made the thief grimace, since he knew the extreme hearing of Elves.

He heard voices.

They were whispers, but close enough to discern as Elvish. Henry had no knowledge of the language, but from what he could tell their tone sounded angry and rushed. One elf was constantly repeating the same line.

Slowly, Henry manouevred his body shape so he could drop to the ground without a sound. He peered through a small hole in the bush that covered the bottom of the tree trunk and took in the scene.

There were five heavily armoured, tall elves with elegant swords out of their scabbards. Two of them were busy arguing, while the other three were watching different directions for signs of movement. One of them, Henry quickly took in, had a bow.

He would die first.

It was then that Henry thought of and instantly began to implement his simply plan. From a young boy, exposure to woodland and a sense of adventure, mischief and later fear, had drive him to climb trees all his life. He could do it quickly and quietly. It would have to be slow and measured to make sure the Elves could not realises, but luckily the tree in question was bushy even low down, giving him enough cover to pull it off.

He grabbed the lowest branch without difficulty, and clambered up to the next without a sound or slip. This was what he was used to. Working on his own, to a plan.

A couple of minutes later he was perched comfortably, lying on a wide branch, his arms and legs secured by other smaller branches. His crossbow was out, ready to fire.

The one with the bow died first.

He had made his way back to the two elves that had been arguing. The crossbow had twanged and the bolt flew into the elves neck, blood spurting out instantly, washing his comrade with a deep red. The elf collapsed on the floor. And gone was their only chance of removing the thief from the tree.

The elves were quick to respond. They darted out of sight before Henry could reload, and by the time the bolt was in place, they had retreated to behind two tree trunks.

"Bastards," he said to himself. "Now yer know what it feels like t'be ambushed. Jus' like those women 'n children yer massacred."

"Come down!" shouted a voice, heavily accented, as if it was not comfortable with speaking common.

It was one of the elves behind the tree.

Henry laughed. "I think not. I'll just'watch yer ugly whoresons try and get out of this one. It's not kids yer fighting any more. I've actually got a weapon -- 'ow does that make yer feel? Yer bloody cowards."

One of them screamed in rage and charged out, his sword flashing in the late morning sun. Henry brought up the crossbow and shot him in the neck. He died along with his echoing screams.

"Well, I'll give yer one thing," Henry said. "Yer do die easily. Easier than killin' sheep."

"We will not be taunted by you, human," said the voice again. "One day, when the dice are in our favour, I will watch you die with a great smile on my face."

"Aye, but for now yer can 'ide your ugly face behind that tree like a coward."

Now it was the elf's turn to laugh. "We are not all as easier to enrage as poor Cafin. I was debating with him before -- he thought we should find more Harbingers to search the woods for you. I said you were an insignificant little idiotic human."

"Looks like 'e was right," Henry replied. "'N he died for it. Too bad. It'll be yer turn next, big mouth."

The elf laughed once more, but said nothing else. Suddenly Henry saw a quick movement out of the trees, all three elves at once -- he fired his crossbow out of instinct, but the bolt did not hit home because the shot was made too fast. The three elves then did something strange -- they stopped and calmly put out their hands.

Then Henry remember Valin talking to him about elemental magic ...

The wind tore through the air, smashing into the tree branches and ripping leaves and wood from the trunk. Henry just about managed to grip onto his branch with both his arms as the frighteningly fast winds blew into him. He felt as if his very skin was being ripped from his body the wind was that strong. His clothes were ripping and the pain was excruiciating, but he told himself to just hold on ...

The wind stopped almost as quickly as it begun.

The elves spoke, all three nodded, and they retreated away from the scene, leaving windswept Henry on the ripped apart tree.

Then Henry heard why they had left -- the steady and unmistakeable sound of horse's hooves thudding against the ground.

We rode in silence. Valin, Cyrus and Carmenia had ridden up behind us, and we set our horses at a quick jog to find Henry. I let Finn lead the way, for she would be able to pick up the trail better than anyone present. Sirloaz had been nowhere to be found.

I kept my face locked in a grimace, my eyebrows narrowed in determination. Finn kept her eyes staight ahead, and occasionally at the road, making sure not to look at me. The only sounds were those of our horses and our equipment. No one spoke a word.

That silence was broken by a scream of pain and surprise from up ahead. We spurred our horses onward and into the brush. A moment later, a second scream issued from slightly to our left. We adjusted our path accordingly. I drew my sword and spurred my horse harder, pulling away from the group--I no longer needed Finn's direction. I pulled into a small clearing. Two elves lay on the ground, a crossbow bolt in each of them. Immediately I surveyed the line of the forest, looking for signs of Henry or other elves.

The sight of the dead elves filled me with a strange feeling -- a sort of frightening, savage glee, and an unexpectedly fierce jealousy that I wasn't the one to spill their blood. I continued staring at them; Astril pawed the ground anxiously and tried to take a few steps back, spooked by the smell of death, but I held her steady.

Seraph lowered his previously raised sword and began to circle the clearing, looking for any signs of company. He hardly needed to. A moment later a rustling sound nearby drew my gaze upward, and I saw the thief climbing out of a nearby tree, his crossbow slung over his shoulder awkwardly.

"Seraph," I hissed.

He turned quickly, his mount snorting in protest at the maneuver, and looked in the direction of my outstretched hand. With a quick squeeze of his calves, he urged his horse over beside mine, his armor-plated shin brushing mine accidentally. I maneuvered Astril a few paces away, never looking at him.

"Thank Falthyr," I heard him say under his breath, barely more than an exhalation. A moment later, I wasn't sure whether or not it had been my imagination. "Henry, where -- "

"Th' Elves," the thief interrupted, a strange expression on my face. "They wen' into the cemetary. Tha' way." He pointed, though I already knew where it was. Hardly a cemetary... the ground here wasn't kind to burial, so my folk had long ago taken to funeral pyres. The 'cemetary' was ancient, and more of a collection of memorial stones with nothing beneath them than anything else. "Only three of 'em, but there's prob'ly more..."

"Lots 'a places t' hide in there," I murmured, not even sure whether either of them, or the last three, who had joined us at that point, made note of my comment.

Valin, apparently, had. "What can we expect, Finn?"

I looked over, somewhat surprised to realize that I'd been staring at the bodies again. "Trees like these 'uns, a few -- cairns big 'nuff fer a man t' hide behin', a few -- 's a dark spot... they'll ha' a' 'dvantage... eyes already 'djusted, an' all that..."

Impressively, the Elven prince seemed to make sense of my distracted mumblings. After a moment of thought, he nodded, then got the attention of the others. "We go in on foot. No need to make ourselves bigger targets than we already are. Stay out of sight as much as possible -- stick to the shadows -- and keep an eye out for enemies. We don't know how many of them there are -- "

"No more'n twen'y, twen'y-five, 'less they've got 'em packed in there like coin in a fop's purse."

Valin nodded in acknowledgement. "Still, be on your guard."

"More fighting?" I heard Carmenia whisper. "But I thought this was just..."

"Aye, more fightin'," Henry snapped. "Them Elves -- "

"Peace, Henry," Seraph cut in, his voice stern. "Make sure you learn how to differentiate between friend and enemy, not just human and Elf."

Henry seemed a little too wired to be suitably rebuked, but he at least acknowledged the chastisement with muttering and a quick hand gesture. Carmenia looked away from him and followed Valin and Seraph as they dismounted and started towards the cemetary.

I hesitated, dismounted, and hobbled Astril. In a few quick steps, I ran over to Henry's side as he lagged irritably behind the other three. "Henry."

He looked over at me.

"...Thank ye. For tha'." I pointed at the bodies. He stopped and turned to face me for a moment, reaching out to squeeze my shoulder. I returned the gesture wholeheartedly, comforted by the fact that my anger was not mine alone.

"Let's go spill us some blood, girl."

Shoulder to shoulder, the thief and I stalked after the other three and into the cemetary, our weapons of choice close at hand and our eyes always moving.