Hereos of the Elven Lands:Chapter 3

Hey guys. Next chapter. I like this one the best! Its in italics when Kalaban is speaking in elf language. Enjoy!

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“Excuse me?” Kalaban asked a passing man.

“Yes?” he replied in a crusty tone.

“I was wondering, are there any good horses for sale in the village?” the youth inquired.

“Hmm…yes! The stablemaster down the way has a couple,” the balding man said.

Kalaban thanked the man and was soon running down a steep hill towards the master's house. The man was sitting attending to a horse’s shoe, grumbling angrily under his breath. He hadn’t noticed Kalaban approach. Kalaban coughed.

“May I help you?” the man asked.

“Yes, have you any good mounts for sale?”

“I think so, a few strong geldings and mares…” The stable keeper paused, “ Follow me”

The burly man turned and strolled to a great, green field at the back of the stables. There was a small amount of horses grazing on a diminutive hill at the far side of the pasture. The smithy called to the horses in a booming voice. The beasts simply raised their heads, looked at him strangely and began eating again. The man boomed again. And again. But the horses ignored him.

“Let me try,” offered Kalaban, who jogged down to the man’s side.

Kalaban whistled through his lips, a high, pitched sound. The horses’ ears pricked up and they all raised their heads. One mare, with a dirt caked coat, whinnied and reared in reply to the whistle. The horses started to canter up to the fence, neighing in excitement.

“You’re an elf?” the man asked.

“Yep!” Kalaban replied happily.

The mounts skidded to an abrupt stop at the fence. They looked healthy and strong, with gleaming eyes and proud faces. Their coats were enclosed with muck, which flew into the air when they shaked their heads.

“ May I try riding them?” asked Kalaban.

“If you wish,” answered the master.

For an hour, Kalaban rode the horses, testing their speed and strength. They were satisfactory, but only just. He particularly liked the chestnut mare. She was fiery and fast but was a little too uncultivated for him.

He thanked the man for his time and went on his way.

As he entered the village once more, he noticed a strange event, taking place. The town’s folk were gathered in a crowd, trying to calm something. Kalaban put on an odd face and walked up to the crowd. He pushed through the people, who glared at him for his rudeness but he simply glowered back. He made his way in further.

He slithered through the front line and stared in astonishment at what he was witnessing.

A white mare was being tormented and flogged as she lay in the mud, tied in ropes. The men around her were laughing and shouting in glee as they lashed the horse again and again with their instruments of torture. The mare was growling neighing in anger and pain. This just goaded the men on. How could men hurt such a helpless animal? he though in anger.

Kalaban gasped as the men cracked their whips yet again. With each strike he felt his anger grow, until he could stand it no longer. He broke into a run and blindsided the man. He hit the man in the stomach hard and he heard the man gasping for breath. He was out of the fight for now. The other torturers turned their attention to Kalaban now. They ran towards him now. He dodged the first one easily and punished his clumsiness with a hit to the shoulder blades. He followed up with a quick strike to the genital region, effectively eliminating the second opponent.

Kalaban tried to untie the horse, wrenching at the tight knots. They were extremely difficult, wrapping around the mare’s legs in annoying twists and turns. He got out his small dagger that he kept at his side and began sawing at the ropes, being careful not to harm the animal. The mount snorted and looked up at Kalaban with pleading eyes. He stared back and smiled warmly and began working at the knots again.

When he cut the last rope, the horse scrambled to her feet, shook herself and snorted noisily. Kalaban patted the beast’s neck and looped the ropes around his hand. The crowd departed, muttering and squabbling in hushed tones. The horse looked oddly at the young man who had saved her, and whinnied. Kalaban laughed and began to stroll away.

As he turned a corner, he heard a something behind him. He swivelled on his heels and met the gaze of the tormented mare. She stared back with unchanging eyes. He turned and walked on again. The horse followed, almost matching his pace. He didn’t even bother looking back. He knew that the animal had grown fond of him. Instead, he glanced at the sky. It was grey and darkening, an obvious sign of a storm. A loud thunder echoed through the clouds, turning the sky a darker shade of grey. Kalaban began to shiver. He had no luxurious, fur coat or high boots. His thin, sleeveless tunic barely protected him from the cold and his short, scuffed riding boots had no use anymore. He had a better chance walking around bare foot!

Something bounced off his elfin ears. A raindrop! It was slow at first but soon turned into a deafening downpour. Kalaban sprinted into a run, trying to shelter his head from the wet. The horse trotted after him, neighing, as if calling out to him.

As he was approaching his ‘house’, hailstones had began to fall, recoiling off of the ground. The sky was practically black now, as if a blanket of shadow had covered the earth. Kalaban burst through his front door, slamming it shut. The mare whinnied to him. He huffed in annoyance and opened the ‘door’ and the horse entered, shaking off the water. He swiftly tottered over to the fire and began a blaze. He shivered as the warmth filled the room, turning it a lovely, orange tint. The horse took up lots of space in the youth’s home and she had lie down and tuck her legs underneath herself.

“It must be uncomfortable,” Kalaban said to the horse in the elfin language.

The mare grunted in reply and turned away. Kalaban also huffed and turned back to the hearth.

The rain hammered off the thatched roof like there was no tomorrow. The lightning hissed and moaned as it flew through the sky, dancing and swirling. The wind grew stronger and it whistled though Kalaban’s home. He retrieved the poorly, stitched blanket from his bed and drew it around him, as he was shivering. The fire crackled and sizzled. It shrunk down to a tiny flicker and finally died. The wind shrilled again and the door swung open and fell from its latches. Pure, white snow begun to twirl down, turning the ground into a beautiful, swirling wonderland. It got heavier and heavier and heavier still until you couldn’t see through the white wall. The young man shuddered as he drew the blanket in closer to his bitter body.

It all happened so fast. The shack groaned as the wind grew stronger and began to sway back and forth. Kalaban looked up slowly, nervously even. The roof! The roof had gone. The snow fell on him like a ton of bricks and he gasped in shock. The horse had already fled and was galloping away. He didn’t move. He was too scared.

What? He thought. Me? Scared? Impossible.

But he was, he had to face the truth and stare it in the face.

He shivered once more as the cold bit at his skin. He clambered to his feet and rushed out the door.

The weather was impossibly real. It was unimaginably cold and the wind was no better. The coarse blanket around Kalaban’s shoulders got pulled away by the wind’s fingers and flew back into the white wall. The tribe’s leader noted that everyone had ran. Most were too scared or too cold to stay put. They were right, thought Kalaban.

He stumbled through the snow, grasping at his arms and rubbing them furiously in an attempt to heat them up. His legs were protected by his leggings, but only just. The flimsy material only attracted the snow. It gripped to it like velcro, making it worse for the young leader.

He hadn’t even noticed that he had left the village. The snow was so heavy. He just continued through the blizzard.

About an hour had past, and Kalaban, coughing and shaking, finally collapsed in the snow. He could no longer feel his fingers. That usually intended frostbite. His arms were covered with goosebumps on goosebumps. His vision, although stronger than humans, was fading.

He rolled over onto his stomach and crawled to a nearby tree, which was covered in blossoms. Strange thing nature. It's just turned form spring to summer and then a blizzard decides to start.

It least the tree would provide a little shelter. He curled into a ball and grasped at his arms again, heating them. He coughed, wheezed and sniffed as more snow plundered down. He passed out.

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What did you think. I know the bit with the horse followig him is a little cheesy but hes an elf so horses are his friends!

~Lollipop~