Brings Rain ~ An Elder Scrolls Story (Part 2)

• Posted by Okan-Zeeus November 11, 2014 - 1,403 views

  PART 2

  ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  The three resumed their pace and wound around to plantation’s back wall. Several elves kept watch along a balcony that wrapped around the villa’s highest floor. The box-like building was grand in size, perhaps the vestige of some powerful Dark Elf family. The Argonians hunkered down behind a cluster of mushrooms. A pair of guards made their way around the outer wall, torches glowing against its coarse rock. The Varla Stone shone above on the villa’s rooftop. It was so close…

  For several minutes they waited. There were no signs of Hides-In-Mud or Brings-Rain.

  “Where are they?” Shade muttered, peering out into the dead of night.

  “Stop trying to see them, fool. If they’re alive, they’re staying out of sight,” Croon replied.

  “They can at least give us a sign. We can’t wait forever…!”

  “We will wait as long as it takes. Mud would do the same for us.”

  “Croon, trust me, I want to believe that he’s alive as much as you. But if that Varla Stone somehow killed–”

  A raspy voice suddenly cleared its throat. The three looked back. Sure enough, there they were: both Mud and Rain, alive and breathing.

  “Go on. You were saying something?” Croon nudged Shade’s rib cage.

  Calls let out a sigh of relief, silently thanking the Hist.

  “By Sithis, you had us scared!” Shade exclaimed softly as Mud stooped down beside him. “What happened?”

  “A wild guar. It got too close,” Mud remarked. The Varla Stone did not discriminate its targets; even local wildlife was susceptible. Calls looked at the hatchling. He was breathing faster than before.

  “Faring well?” she asked.

  “I am fine,” Brings-Rain said. He remained calm but it was clear he had been shaken.

  Mud motioned toward the boy. “Guards went after the noise. They nearly saw him. He was quick. He has good instinct.” Appraisal from Mud was unusual, praise even more so. The hatchling must have done something to impress.

  “Good to hear. I was worried about you two,” Calls said, smiling. “Were you able to gather anything useful?”

  Mud growled softly. “Heard sounds inside the second building. A guard house. Saw through windows in the villa, too. There may be dozens,” he said.

  Calls’ smile faded. “Dozens?”

  “Some women and children. Mostly soldiers.

  “Hist spit on them!” Croon swore. “The scouts spoke nothing of a gathering that large.”

  “Did you say there were children?” Shade interrupted.

  “Yes… They brought families here,” Brings-Rain said somberly. “They must truly believe they can stay.”

  “They will not,” Calls hissed. “We are evicting them tonight. Did either of you spot a clear path to the villa?”

  Mud shook his head in the negative. Rain looked thoughtful.

  “There was one thing. A basement entrance, I think, at the side of the building facing the guard house,” he said.

  “You think…?” Croon replied.

  “I did not get a good look at it. But there were elves keeping post. Something is there.”

  “We should listen to this one,” Mud chimed in. “I believe he is right.”

  Calls and Rain exchanged looks.

  “If Mud is willing to bet on it, so am I,” she said. “Get ready. We scale this wall on my order.”

  The band of Argonians carefully timed their movements with the balcony patrols. Calls advanced and the others followed close behind. They lifted each other over the walls without making a sound. Torchlight was scarce but still enough to leave the group exposed. They moved quickly, pressing against the villa, slowly creeping to its corner. Calls caught sight of a nearby tree – it looked as though some creature had taken a bite out of its trunk. Scorch marks implied the Varla Stone was the culprit. How many had already died by its lightning? Calls could only wonder.

  “Is it there?” Calls whispered, inquiring the basement entrance. Shade peered around the corner and nodded, holding up two fingers for two guards. Brings-Rain moved up to see for himself.

  “I can take them both,” he hissed. Calls glared at the boy.

  “No. Stay here. Shade and Mud will handle this.” She motioned for her men to set up. Mud slinked away to the guard house nearby, blending masterfully with the shadows. The two guards, brandishing spears, whipped their attention to the sound of a rustling bush. Mud was drawing them out for Shade to make the first strike. He would follow that felling with an arrow from his short bow. The elves exchanged glances but held their ground. Shade scowled, hanging back, mace firmly in hand.

  “They won’t make this easy,” he muttered. They needed to strike them both quickly enough so that one would not yell out to the others.

  Watching tensely, Calls considered another course of action before she noticed something moving. Surprise and a small bit of panic settled in. Brings-Rain had gone past her and Shade around the corner. He was going for the guards, clutching his throwing knife like a dagger. Its blade reflected soft orange firelight. In a blink the hatchling had already slit the throat of the closest guard. He stretched his free arm up to muffle the Dark Elf’s mouth, pulling down, and kicked a leg from underneath, wrestling him to the ground in a single fluid motion. Blood sprayed on the ash covered soil. The elf’s companion had no time to react. The boy’s knife was already tossed through the air – it sank clean into the man’s skull. Brings-Rain leapt over and caught the body before it fell. A trickle of red seeped down from the elf’s head wound onto the hatchling’s arm.

  It was over in seconds. Both guards were dead.

  “Help me with this!” Brings-Rain hissed to a gawking Sleeps-In-Shade. The boy was carrying the elf’s corpse back behind the villa, swishing his tail in the blood-soaked ash to scatter his trail. Shade rushed over to the other body and did the same. As they laid the dead elves down, Croon stared at them in disbelief. Calls threw a furious look at the hatchling, hiding her own astonishment.

  “I told you to stay back!” she snapped in hushed tones.

  “Your men were slow. I am sorry. I saw an opening and seized it,” Brings-Rain said softly. His chest rose and fell with long even breaths.

  “That wasn’t your call to make,” Calls hissed.

  “I know,” the hatchling replied, pausing for a moment. He looked sad. His eyes flicked toward the two corpses beside him. “They were guarding a small stairway. It leads down to a locked door. We should be quick – the others will smell the bodies.”

  “Mud’s already working on the lock,” Shade whispered, peaking out again.

  Calls held her gaze at the hatchling. He deliberately went against her orders. That was something she had trouble tolerating. But did he act out of contempt? He saw what her men were trying to do. He decided he could do it faster. No hesitation, no regard for command, just… execution. There was something frightening about that. Something extraordinary too. Calls began to see why the An-Xileel had sent him.

  To be able to kill with such calculated speed, at his age… What kind of training has this young one been given?

  “The river flows onward. We need to get to that Varla stone,” Calls said, pushing her grievances aside. She would speak to the hatchling once the mission was over. The Argonians filed down the stairway, entering through a set of rounded wood doors, and found themselves inside a dark and dusty basement. Grain stores cluttered the floor along with storage crates and urns filled to the brim. Colorful patterned rugs laid a pathway through the maze-like room. Some of this stock might have been from the Argonian family, but much of it looked new with no traces of dust. The elves were well dug-in. Mud took point, leading the group toward another set of stairs. Light bled down them from a small oil lantern.

  “…again. This time make sure you have enough torches.” 

  They heard a brusque voice speaking above. A clamor of footsteps followed. Mud motioned for the others to halt.

  “You really think that Guar was bait?” Another voice spoke up. Female, even toned.

  “They’re smart enough to try something like that. If we find them here, we’ll know for certain.”

  “I almost hope we do for once…”

  More footsteps, followed by a door closing shut. Mud climbed the stairs and gave an all-clear signal. The others slowly followed his lead to the floor above. They would have to find another stairwell to keep going up. The villa’s masonry felt claustrophobic. Calls noticed Rain was tensing uncomfortably as they snuck down the candle-lit hallway. A door ahead had been closed, but not all the way. A crack of light shone from within. Conversation slipped out.

  “Go console our people and make sure there’s no unrest,” the male voice spoke again. Mud positioned himself by the edge of the doorway, knife in hand. Calls and the others rushed by.

  “There will be,” the woman replied.

  “Then do as I ask!” the man growled.

  Footsteps yet again. The door did not open. The woman had taken some other passage out of the room. There followed a moment of silence.

  “How long would you have them endure this, Gilyn?” an elderly man spoke up.

  “Don’t pester me,” Gilyn replied. “Get your sword. We need to search the grounds.”

  “Can’t you see by now? It does not matter how safe we are. This is still enemy territory.”

  “Which is why we have come here – to change that.”

  “When, Gilyn? When will it change? Redoran has denied us aid and our risks grow with each passing day.”

  “Then what counsel would you give? Speak up!”

  A brief pause ensued.

  “We must withdraw.”

  “Out of the question.”

  “Endangering the families of our militia was never out of the question.”

  “Dalvus, your sword! We’re wasting time!”

  “If the scale-skins have arrived–”

  A fist pounded on a wooden table. Mud winced, catching up to rest of his team.

  “Help me stop them, then!! Don’t question decisions we made months ago!” Gilyn yelled. His voice rang down to the end of hall where Calls lingered. As Mud passed her around the corner, the doorway opened and two Dark Elf men stepped out. The battle maiden studied them. One was old and grizzled with a thick brown beard upon his slender face and balding head. He wore a suit of netch-plate armor. The other looked middle-aged with high cheek bones and a head of long black hair tied back. A dark swirling tattoo rested on his left cheek. The man was clad a set of peculiar armor, not heavily plated, but clearly composed of black ebony. Both elves had greyish-blue skin, large red eyes, and marks on their foreheads.

  “We’ve stayed here. We can keep staying here. That’s what we have to prove,” Gilyn said, pointing a finger at his companion as they walked further down the hall.

  That wild guar is bringing us a lot of trouble, Calls thought to herself. She caught up with her men and hung back at the rear. They continued onward, starting and stopping as they navigated the villa’s halls. The more Calls considered their task ahead, the grimmer it seemed. They couldn’t destroy the Varla Stone so they had to sneak it out. That would be simple enough… if it was not brightly glowing. They could conceal it with a cloth or bag, but the Dark Elves would notice its absence. It was practically a beacon in the night. Once they removed the stone they would have two choices: try somehow to escape the plantation with it, or signal the attack and hold their ground until the An-Xileel could arrive.

  Considering their opposition, neither option sounded pleasant.

  They pressed on through the building and soon found its main stairwell. The steps did not ascend any further than the third floor. How do we reach the roof? Calls wondered. Mud was continuing his lead, careful to watch for patrols. Despite that most of the elves were outside, plenty remained within the villa. That did not stop it from feeling barren. Several hallways and rooms were unlit, with next to no furnishings. Much of the top floor remained unused with centuries of wear clearly visible. The group passed long cracks that crept along the stone walls and floors like fissures, some sealed and repaired with adhesive. Impressive that the building sustained such little damage during the quakes of the Red Year.

  “Let’s head for the balcony,” Croon suggested. “We can climb to the roof from there.”

  Mud nodded in agreement. The Argonians snuck toward the backend of the villa and into a small room, left empty save for a couple of wicker baskets. An archway led to the outdoors. They stacked up against it. Shade peered out, noticing an elf along the balcony making rounds. He waited patiently, exchanging brief eye contact with Croon. As the man walked by the archway Shade grabbed him and threw him inside. Croon conjured a green bundle of light in his hand and threw a paralyzing spell.

  Shade set down the wide-eyed elf on the ground, stiff as a board of wood, unable to cry for help. A knife to the jugular ensured his continued silence. They hid the corpse behind the wicker baskets and rushed out of the archway.

  Calls and Mud used their grappling ropes to reach the roof first. As they climbed over the outer lip, she set her eyes on their goal – the Varla Stone. It looked much smaller up close. The slender crystal gave off pure white light, its bottom half encased inside a wrapping of metal, like claws grabbing it from underneath. It stood atop a tall cone-like pedestal with patterned etchings running down its surface. She could not make out the compositional material, though it appeared to be some sort of stone. The etchings pulsed with white light. Other markings rung below the base were glowing red.

  The battle maiden spotted a trapdoor hatch where the elves could come up from. She ordered Shade to go hold it down as he finished climbing. Croon and Rain came up last, retrieving their ropes behind them. Calls took a single step forward toward the stone. Croon pulled her back.

  “Stop! Do you not see? There are fire runes all around the base of that cone,” he whispered sharply in her ear. “I will have to dispel them first.”

  “It’s alright. I assumed there would be traps,” Calls replied calmly. “Do what you have to, but be quick.”

  Croon went over to the glowing red marks, slowing down as he neared the edge of their boundary. Anyone foolish enough to step inside a fire rune would quickly find themselves engulfed in flames. The mage began working his magic, hands emitting a soft light-blue glow. He could trigger the runes without stepping on them, eliminating the danger, but they would still create an explosion of fire. Hardly unnoticeable. Calls and her team had to wring their element of surprise for every last drop.

  Just a little while longer…

  An outcry of shouting resounded below. Calls cursed.

  “They found the bodies,” Mud whispered softly.

  The Argonians backed further away from the edges of the roof. Shade stayed atop the trap door. Across the plantation Dark Elves aired the alarm. Calls looked over at Brings-Rain. He was rigid, eyes scanning for the slightest sign of a threat.

  “In battle we bleed,” the boy recited beneath his breath. “Blood is water…”

  “Calls!” Croon hissed.

  “What? What is it?” Calls hissed back.

  “These runes… I don’t think I can dispel them! It will take too long!”

  No! Hist spit on these red-eyes! We were so close! Any hope of sneaking out was all but dashed. The elves were converging toward the villa, ready to protect their precious Varla Stone. Calls could hear their frenzied footfalls. The beast was about to sink in its teeth. So which would it be? Fight? Or flight…?

  The peak of a ladder smacked the lip of the roof, followed by another off on the opposite side. Sounds of climbing. Mud, Rain and Shade drew their weapons.

  Fight, then.

  “Get the stone! Now!!” Calls hollered.

  Croon cast a spell on the fire runes, unleashing an eruption of flames. They lit up the night as Dark Elves poured onto the roof, nearly matching Calls’ team in numbers. Each branded swords and netch-plate armor. The battle maiden unsheathed her greatsword and joined the fray, intercepting two elves trying to pair up against Shade. She landed a pommel strike on one raising his sword high to swing. Shade easily blocked the blade of the other and held a tight defense. Mud ran and knocked over a ladder before rejoining the fight with his short blade. Croon, meanwhile, unleashed a stream of fire down the other ladder as another elf tried to climb it. He cradled the Varla Stone in the crook of his arm while Rain covered his flank.

  The battle maiden clashed with her opponent. Her style of fighting preferred slow heavy attacks with fast footwork. She dodged and parried to set up an opening. Calls invited the thrill of the fight, relishing it – she was a thunderstorm no foe could contain, drifting on the wind, ready to strike with a blast. The elves were proving no match. She and her men repelled them well.

  Of everyone, however, Brings-Rain fared best. If Calls was a storm, then the hatchling was a tempest. In a two-on-one fight he had already felled his first man and moved on to the next. He maintained an aggressive offensive with twin blades, delivering light rapid strikes meant to unnerve his foe. The wide-eyed elf had no opening for counterattack, constantly forced to defend. As Calls cleaved through the shoulder of the man before her she saw Rain in the corner of her eye, jabbing his sword in a crouched dive with unthinkable speed. The elf staggered, bleeding badly from his gut. A sweeping double slash tore clean through the elf’s chestplate, ending him. Another two dead in seconds.

  “I can cast the signal!” Croon-Tail called out, bringing his spell scroll to bear.

  “Do it!” Calls-From-Afar demanded.

  Croon channeled the scroll’s magic, welling a charge of electricity in his hand. He shot his arm up towards the sky. Blue lightning surged forth with a heralding boom. Clouds above caught the discharge, rumbling and flashing with thunder. The light expanded outward in a ring and covered the plantation with its glow before fizzling away. Within four heartbeats the signal was sent.

  Shade finished off his assailant with Mud’s assistance and rushed back to the roof’s trapdoor, keeping his weight on top as elves pounded against it from below. Croon stashed the Varla Stone away in his leather bag and came over, readying a fire spell. Shade counted to three and pulled open the hatch. A gout of flames met those unlucky enough to be in the way. Shade closed shut the hatch again, remaining as before. Calls scanned for more ladders. Can we hold this rooftop? She hoped so. It was a strong defensive position, though one that left them easily surrounded.

  “How long before the assault arrives?” Croon asked, eyes darting in every direction.

  “They can’t be more than a mile off to the west, at least close enough to see the signal,” Calls replied. “For now we hold here.”

  “Until the elves find a way to drive us out,” Brings-Rain hissed.

  Calls saw no trace of any more climbers. She turned to Mud. “What are they doing? Are there any left on the farm?”

  The shadow walker edged over to the lip of the roof and peered out.

  “Yes… a few,” Mud replied. “They are… carrying things.”

  “Carrying what things?”

  Mud looked closer. He sprang back in alarm.

  “Netch eggs!”

  A flurry of round objects hurled through the air, smashing against the walls just beneath the roof, spilling their contents. Each gave off a pungent odor. Calls dared to look out over the plantation. The netches inside their pens had been untied and were now floating toward the villa through the air. They were enraged, defending their young, heading straight toward whatever was closest to the shattered eggs. Toward them.

  “Those clever bastards…!” Croon hissed. The Argonians backed up slowly. A half-dozen of the great shelled creatures loomed before them. Their underbellies emitted a deep blue bioluminescence, pouring down repulsively long tentacles.

  “Calls, this is bad!!” Shade shouted.

  “Back to the balcony!” Their leader barked.

  They ran to the back of the roof, dropped off its edge and made a break for the nearest doorway inside. Croon was the first to reach an archway entrance.

  “Through here!” he called to the others just as a Dark Elf sprang out. The mage barely dodged a killing blow as the man’s sword slashed into his side. Roaring, Shade ran to stop the elf. Croon slipped away from the scuttle of clashing weapons, clutching his wound on the ground. The others arrived on the scene as Shade pinned the elf against a wall, giving a swift head-butt and knee to the groin.

  Mud finished off the man with his sword as Shade hurried over to Croon, helping him through the archway. Rain went ahead and checked the interior, giving an all-clear. They entered the hallway within and left the angry netches out of reach. Faint candle light flickered along the walls. Shade rested Croon on his back and pulled out bandages from his pack.

  “Is it bad…?” Croon asked, groaning.

  “Only if you’re pregnant,” Shade replied. “If you planned on sharing the news, this would be a good time.”

  “Gah… Sithis forbid…”

  Mud and Rain guarded the corridors on either side. Calls stared at Croon’s injury, fighting back a growing sense of dread. Outnumbered and surrounded with a man wounded… Their plight was becoming desperate. She had to stay focused. Her men were depending on her to see them through this. The An-Xileel would come soon – she made herself believe it. As long as there was hope they had to keep fighting. Shade finished bandaging and slung the mage’s arm over his shoulder, lifting him up.

  “Hold that wound tight. Don’t worry about the egg,” he said. Croon could only grunt in protest.

  “Where to?” Mud asked. A group of Dark Elves appeared further down one end of the hallway. They branded their weapons and rushed forward.

  “This way!” Calls directed, heading the opposite direction. The others followed. Croon mustered what strength he had left and extended his arm back. He let loose a wall of arcane fire down the hall, its flames clinging to the stone as though it were fuel for burning. The elves turned back to search for an alternate path. And so the Argonians were freed from pursuit, winding their way through dimly lit passages. The villa had become a maze with dangers around every corner. They had to find someplace where they could stand their ground and fast, lest they be overwhelmed.

  But where? Where can we possibly go…?

  The waters were becoming murky.

  At last the stairwell came into view. Calls entered it and peered down, snarling. A small clutch of elves were climbing its steps. She called out for Shade to take point. The burly Argonian handed Croon over to Calls and planted himself on the top set of stairs, fending off attackers with his shield. A door further back down the hall slammed open. The red-eyes from before came rushing out. The Argonians were about to be boxed in on two fronts. Calls flinched. Brings-Rain pushed past her and dashed down the hallway, crashing headlong into the elves.

  “What are you doing!?” Calls exclaimed.

  “Holding them back! Keep going!” he roared, locking swords with an elf. Calls was about to sit Croon down and help the boy fight. Mud threw her a look of disapproval.

  “He is covering our advance,” the shadow walker said.

  “We have to stand our ground together! We can’t let these red-eyes get–”

  “Calls!” Mud snapped, glaring. “We cannot hold here. Croon-Tail needs to leave.” Calls gaped at the green Argonian. What was she doing? Had she been so set on combatting the Dark Elves? Croon will die if we try to stay here and fight. He was a liability to her entire team’s defense. Healers would come with the assault – they had to reach them. The mage’s life depended on it.

  That hatchling was a fool. But he was giving them something they needed now. Time.

  “Keep pushing forward!” Calls ordered, filing behind Shade as he continued to press through the upsurge of attackers. Mud brought his short bow to bear. He sniped at the elves from behind Shade’s shield, becoming a hammer to his wedge. They punched through the elves and descended to the first floor. Croon was passed back to Shade again. The mage looked to be in great pain. Sounds of fighting behind them grew faint and Calls felt a pang of regret. How long could Brings-Rain hold his own? She had to remain with her team – croon needed protection – but that didn’t stop her from wishing she had stayed to fight with the boy.

  He is stronger than he looks, Calls reassured herself. He will live.

  The Argonians turned another corner and continued forward. To the cellar, to the main entrance... it did not matter, so long as the route was clear. They just had to find some way out. It was a mad single-minded goal. Numerous doorways and living quarters passed them by. Calls eyed each one, expecting an ambush to jump out at any moment. No such misfortune. Until they came to an intersection. Calls barely blocked the swing of a sword as it whipped around the bend. She found herself standing face to face with a Dark Elf clad in heavy ebon. Calls jumped back, hissing at the man. His face was hidden behind a thick visor. The warrior stood in front of them defiantly – a solid, impassable barrier.

  Blades clashed as the two locked in combat. Behind, more elves were gathering. Shade rested Croon on the floor and prepared to fight alongside Mud. The narrow hallway proved an inadequate staging ground for either side. Calls took the offensive, adapting her tactics for close quarter combat. She fought half-sword, gripping the middle of her weapon’s blade with her off-hand, thrusting at chinks in the elf’s armor. Her attacks were relentless. She knew their window was closing. Croon was bleeding out and her men were growing tired.

  The only thing standing between them living or dying was the hallway behind this wall of ebon armor. She was determined to knock it down.

  Calls bashed aside a thrust from her opponent. An opening. She speared her blade into the Dark Elf’s visor slit. The armored warrior creaked. He dropped his weapon. The crash of his armor on the floor was final. The battle maiden had won.

  But her men were losing. Shade’s shield had been broken, forcing him and Mud to stand shoulder-to-shoulder. They struggled to keep the elves away from Croon. Calls turned back only to watch as Mud was knocked to the floor by one of the red-eyes. Another struck at Shade, forcing him away from his friend’s defense. It all happened too quickly. Shade struggled to regain his ground. He raised his weapon to swing.

  The assailing elf drew a knife and stabbed it into Shade’s neck. The burly Argonian hollered in pain. He tried to keep fighting, thrashing wildly, blood seeping down into his armor. The elf rammed him against a wall. Slowly, sickeningly, he dragged his knife across Shade's throat. Calls beheld the scene in horror.

  No… no…!!

  Croon struggled to come to his feet, readying a spell. He was too slow. The elf that broke past Mud plunged his sword through the mage’s chest.

  “NO!!!” Calls screamed, charging the elves.

  Before Mud was struck dead on the ground, Calls drove her blade into the woman standing over him. She fought back the red-eyes in a frenzy, mustering strength from some desperate well. They could not stop the fury of Calls’ storm. They died one by one. As she pulled free her blade from the body of her last victim, Calls turned to her men. Sleeps-In-Shade lay slumped against the wall, unmoving, the life in his glossy eyes gone. He had already bled to death. Mud knelt beside Croon-Tail. The mage was coughing up a fit of blood. He too became still. Mud looked away in shame. Calls reeled, leaning back against the wall, knees weak.

  She hadn't been fast enough...

  More were coming. Footsteps and yelling presaged their approach.  Calls’ body was protesting, refusing to move. Grief threatened to overtake her. Mud stood and tugged at Calls’ arm.

  “We can reach the cellar,” he implored. “We must escape.”

  The battle maiden took those words and held tightly to them as though they were a lifeline. The An-Xileel are depending on you. Mud is depending on you. Save the lives you still can. She forced herself to kneel down beside Croon’s body and retrieved his bag. The Varla Stone was still inside. Slinging the bag over her shoulder, she turned to the sad eyed shadow walker.

  “Lead the way,” Calls croaked.

  They left behind their fallen and moved as quickly as they could, retracing their steps from earlier. Mud stopped just as they were about to turn down their final hallway. A pair of elves split up at the far end. One was coming toward them. Mud ambushed the young man and killed him. The two Argonians finally stepped into the stairwell, returning again to the musty basement. Some clay pots had been knocked over, no doubt from red-eyes rushing inside after finding their dead. The battle maiden came to a halt half-way through.

  “Outside! Come!” Mud motioned for her to follow.

  Calls-From-Afar stood still. She was a warrior of the An-Xileel; her mastered art was combat, not stealth. She could never hope to keep up with Mud if they tried to escape together. The battle maiden lived for many things – the chance to kill Dark Elves, the chance to watch her son grow old, the chance to prove herself as a leader, to keep her charges alive…

  What would she deny herself by leaving now?

  Save the lives you still can.

  “I’m not going,” Calls declared. Mud stared thoughtfully at his leader, as though searching for something. Calls could smell his worry. “I have to find Brings-Rain. If he’s alive, I can’t leave him here. You’ll have a better chance of staying unseen without me.”

  There was a pause. Mud could only nod in response. He did not like this, but he understood. Calls handed over the bag containing the Varla Stone. Reluctantly, Mud reached out and took its leather strap.

  “I will not fail you,” he said, clenching the bag in his claws.

  “I know you won’t.”

  Hides-In-Mud erected the spine of submission and slinked away into the darkness. Calls breathed in deep. It was time to resume the struggle. As she stepped back up into the villa, dragging her bloodied hand against a wall, the face of a Dark Elf man appeared in her mind. The one called Gilyn. He was responsible for this atrocity. There was no question – Calls knew a leader when she saw one. She could feel her blood heat to a roving boil. She wanted him dead, to make him pay for taking lives so dear to her. After fighting alongside Shade and Croon for so long… just to lose them both… to the damned red-eyes. It left Calls sick. How many more would they take away from her?

  She was going to find Brings-Rain one way or another. But if given the chance to kill that man she would not hesitate to take it.

  PART 1 --- PART 2 --- PART 3