***
"Do you know if there are any towns or villages between here and the mountains?" Buurn turned her face toward the Dragon’s Teeth as Regis wrestled his chainmail vest over his head.
"There is a town called Lee, with a garrison of troops and a small fort that has a portal. It is also the gateway to a quarry. We get a lot of paving stone from there." Regis grunted pulling his vestments over his mail. "Why do you ask?"
"I used the looking glass Thiakim gave us to follow the trail last night. Our man has crisscrossed the river, but it appears that he has settled in a village due north of here as the trail glows brightly in a single point." Buurn scuffed the ground with her feet to bury the campfire.
"Do you think that necessary? We are not the ones being hunted," Regis observed, tightening the cinch around the girth of his horse.
"No, but there is no harm in doing so." A smile played at the corner of Buurn's mouth.
"Come, let us head north; there is nothing to gain from following the river."
Regis edged his horse into the river, his eyes fixed on the Dragon's Teeth.
in a time of need
The dwarf swung his feet from the bed, stood, stretched out his arms and yawned heavily. He opened the door of his small cabin, and scratched at his thick black beard as he looked down the road toward the garrison town of Trill nestled beneath the shadow of mountains. Watching over Trill, hewn from the very heart of the mountains, the windows of Stonemaul stared lifelessly upon the world below.
The dwarf hitched up his underwear about his waist, stumbled barefoot and half-blind in the morning sun over to a small well where he drew a bucket of the icy water and thrust his head in it. He shuddered, shaking the water from his head, then with a rough towel he dried himself and set about finding some fresh clothes.
Upon reentering his cabin he sleepily grabbed a shirt, black as pitch, from the back of a chair and pulled it over his head, tying the lace fastening loosely about his neck. With a grunt he snatched up his battered leather boots. Thrusting his feet into them, he yawned again with a long lingering look at his bed. He took up his axe, the head of which was almost as broad as his shoulders, and slung it across his back. Whistling tunelessly to himself, he unhooked a black iron shield from the wall, grabbed his satchel, and set out for Trill.
Crouching low behind a dense briar, Dekor watched two riders and their pack mules laden with small sacks trudge wearily along the road heading west into Mor. Having fought his way through the forest he had arrived at its northern edge where he now faced the prospect of crossing the Dragon’s Teeth into Meregith. The Dark Iron Hills cast a chill shadow over the land. If there were merchants then there must also be a settlement of some kind. Dekor thought hard, trying to remember his cartography. Learmont Forest occupied the north-eastern corner of Mor. There was a road running around the forest leading to two villages. Trill, built beneath the shadows of the Dragon’s Teeth, was a gemstone town. And Stone a dwarf settlement cut from the face of the Dark Iron Hills, a checkpoint for the Walk of Faith through to the dwarven land of Grimlaw. He looked at the map he had been drawing in the dirt, tapping at it with the tip of his dagger.
The fading clump of hooves upon the earth stirred Dekor into action. Keeping low, skulking along in the opposite direction to the traders, Dekor kept a watchful eye all about as he searched for a breach in the briars. He made one last scan for life signs then he crept out of the forest heading straight for the foot of Dragon’s Teeth. In the distance, no more than a league away, was the village of Trill. The growling in his stomach and the siren song of his mistress urged him on. Dekor moved between the larger, house-size boulders that had tumbled from the rock-face. Flitting from one rock to another as though he was playing a game of hide-and-seek with an invisible friend, Dekor stole his way toward the village.
Dekor had sensed no further signs of life along the road, except the sound of clanking of hammers on stone coming from beyond a high wall of cemented boulders. As he neared the settlement he could make out scattered houses, all built from the mined stone. The small village was disorganized and generally unkempt. There was a large hexagonal building, comprising stables, work shed, and a barracks. To the rear, a courtyard contained a variety of training dummies hanging awkwardly on their posts, obviously not used with regularity. A shabby inn stood opposite the main building where a woman was sweeping out yesterday's dust. Two young children chased a metal hoop down the street, squealing with delight as it bounced wildly on the rough cobbles. Trill was one of the few villages to have anything other than mud tracks for roads. The children ran past the tiny chapel, half the size of the inn, its door already open. A small man appeared in the doorway, carrying a black shield. He stopped, yawned, looking directly at Dekor. Dekor tucked himself in behind a rock, his heart pounding in his chest.
Moving closer to the wall until he was lost in its shadow, Dekor hid himself from prying eyes. Crouching down, he sensed the world around him: two men working together in silence swung their heavy hammers onto a large boulder in rhythmic chimes, a woman walking around with buckets on a yoke ladling out water to the workers. Dekor thought wryly to himself that even if nothing else should come from all this, at least his life senses had improved. He was now able to recognize men from women, and could feel their limb movements as well as the direction they were facing. As yet he had not seen or sensed any guild members. There was another, smaller figure walking directly towards him. Dekor drew his dagger and waited.
"Laddie?" a gruff but friendly voice called out. Dekor rose slowly to his feet grasping the dagger firmly in his hand. "Laddie, you can put that away," the voice said from above him.
Dekor spun round thrusting the dagger up toward the voice, squinting as the sun blazed into his eyes rendering the dwarf in a hazy silhouette.
"Stay back or I'll kill you," Dekor barked and swallowed hard, his eyes following the dwarf as he jumped from the wall. "Any further and..."
Dekor summoned fire in his hand. He looked at the dwarf smiling back at him, his teeth practically glowing amongst the thicket of his beard. "I mean it." Dekor stepped back, his feet slipping slightly on the loose stones.
"Go on then," the dwarf held out his hands laughing, his smile distorted by the scar drawn down the length of his face.
"You're of the Holy Order?" Dekor lowered his hands a little, gesturing at the dwarf’s shield, his fire abating.
"Aye." The dwarf tossed his satchel at Dekor's feet. "I'm guessing you'll be hungry after being on the run." The dwarf stepped back pointing at the satchel. "Breakfast."
"How do you know?" Dekor grabbed the satchel whilst keeping his eyes on the dwarf who began to whistle merrily.
"The One sees everything. Got me up horribly early to come and help you."
"You sound like that priest, Arrborn." Dekor took the bread from the satchel and ate ravenously from it, no longer interested in harming the dwarf.
"There's meat too, and some mead. Which, if you're not wanting it, I'll be glad to relieve you of."
"Help me, how? Unless you can get me over these mountains to somewhere else, there is little I need." Dekor passed the skin of mead to the dwarf who took it and drank from it eagerly.
"I can do that," the dwarf's dark eyes sparkled with mischief. "But I need to see a friend first," he thumbed at the mountains behind him, "up there."
"My name is Dekor." He let his shoulders relax and slipped the dagger back inside his cloak.
"Griklag," the dwarf offered his hand. Dekor shook it firmly. "Is there an enchantment on that?" Griklag tugged at Dekor's cloak.
"Yes," he looked down at it, as though something had been stuck to the cloak making it obvious it was enchanted. "Can you tell?"
"No, you're a mage. All magic and mumbo." Griklag thrust a hand into his pocket and pulled out an opaque crystal about the size of an egg yolk.
"Wow," Dekor mouthed as the crystal changed color to an iridescent blue. "Why has it changed?"
"It's mat
ched the enchantment on your cloak, so now it'll mask the trail."
"Trail?" Dekor looked behind.
"You need an Elemental Eye to see it. Davvid, come here." There was a tinkling of a bell followed by the soft bleating of a goat. Griklag jumped up onto Davvid's back.
Griklag patted the goat's rump.
"Get on laddie. Not to fret, your trail will end here. And those lazy soldiers are too hung over to be out yet. They'll not see us."
Before Dekor had even sat down, they were high in the mountains looking down on Mor.
"The forest looks a lot better from up here," Dekor shuddered.
"You see where the road goes like a line along the front of the mountains. That goes to Lee." Griklag waited a few seconds before adding, "Where your aunt's gone."
"My aunt!"
They disappeared again before reappearing in a narrow ravine where there were a number of tools neatly arranged on racks small enough to be used by children.
"Wait here, I'll not be a moment." Griklag jumped down from Davvid and ran over to one of the tool racks where he appeared to be having a conversation with himself. He held out his hand. Dekor guessed he was leaving some crystals for someone. "All done." Griklag jumped back onto Davvid and immediately they disappeared.
"Meregith," Dekor said flatly, looking out across the expansive rolling meadows scattered with a multitude of wild flowers. They were still way up the mountains, and though the sun was on them, it was chilly. "I've been here... once."
"Garnet Ford, wasn't it?"
"You seem to know a lot about me, and you have yet to tell me about my aunt." Dekor slipped off the back of Davvid, taking up a seat on a nearby rock and shivering involuntary.
"I know your aunt. She's running a great risk for you." Griklag looked right at Dekor. "I know Arrborn too. Look son," Griklag walked over to Dekor, sighing inwardly, "I know what you've done. But fire and water and whatever mean nothing to me, to any of us. We don't judge by the magic that you do. Fire is no more evil than a sparrow."
Dekor smiled at him.
"That's better," Griklag smiled in return. "I'm going to take you down there and let you find your own way to wherever. I don't know what gods you follow but, you can trust in the One. Call on him, he'll be listening out for you. Now, do you know much about Meregith? I'll tell you. You see that," Griklag pointed at a twinkling light, "that sparkly bit? That's Kelross. It's bigger than Belgor and a greater den of depravity you'll not find this side of Luz. Home to the temple of Ariklon, the god of dark magic and every stinking divine that there ever was." Griklag growled disapprovingly. "You can just see it from here – that way is the Forest Yule and the Delvings. You'll know the rest of that side already."
"I do," said Dekor rising to his feet. "If I follow the mountains on this side will it not take me to the wetlands and the Great Wall?"
"Aye."
"Then I'll go that way." Dekor pulled his cloak tight about him, hoping to keep the cutting wind from passing through his clothes.
"Everstill will be the hardest." Griklag looked up at Dekor who was staring blankly into the distance. "Unless you're a good swimmer and a good climber."
"The Wailing Cliffs to Oumtuk."
"Aye." Griklag mounted Davvid. "On you get, I'll take you down to the woods over there. There are no large beasts in Meregith, not any more. But there's plenty of small game you can catch and eat."
Dekor sat gently on Davvid and the next moment they were on the edge of woods looking back up at the mountains from whence they had come.
"Take care now." Griklag waited for Dekor to dismount.
"Thanks." Dekor stepped back away from Davvid. He lifted his hand about to wave but thought better of it. He wished Griklag could stay longer; he wanted to know how he knew his aunt and what Arrborn had told him. "Won't you get into trouble with the Council of Elders for this?"
"Pfft. Elders of what, exactly?" Griklag scoffed. "I have no regard for what the so-called leaders of these lands think, laddie, and tell me, just how many dwarves sit on the council? Take care son," and in the twinkling of an eye, Griklag was gone.
witch hunt
"I'm just about ready to eat." Regis rubbed his growling stomach as they rode into Lee. The town was built in the same style as Trill, entirely of stone quarried from the mountains. Unlike Trill, however, there were no crystals to mask enchantments or cloud magic.
Regis waved at the soldiers who returned his gesture in acknowledgment; being of a different battle-class they would not salute. Many of the regular infantry had no respect for battlemages. To them they were neither soldier nor mage, a master of nothing, merely a wave tossed hither by the wind.
The main road through Lee was built from slabs of stone, enormous cobbles that amplified the clatter of the horses' hooves and the clanking rattle of iron-wheeled carts. Heavy horses with blinkered eyes clopped along dutifully following in their master's footsteps. Traders were bawling out their wares in a bustling street market. Many of the stalls were extensions to people's houses where they sold the produce of their land.
"Quite a place," Buurn remarked. "There are more people than I thought there would be."
"Most of the farms that we passed trade here. Some of the marketers come from Stedd to stock up, and some have stalls in both. If you go straight out of town, to the west you'll find the main route to the city. If you keep going you get to the Needles."
"Needles?" Buurn looked at Regis, raising her eyebrows.
"I forget that you have never been here before. The Needles are at the end of the mountains. There is a way right through them into Meregith. Were you not given a map?"
"I have been given nothing." Buurn waited for Regis to tie off his horse and finish fussing over it. "This is a guild fort." Buurn stepped back into the street to examine the structure, the passing crowds giving her a wide berth. To one side of the heavy oak doors a plaque had been mounted which read: Mage Guild of Lee, District Knight Balto. Beneath this, in much smaller script, other guilds were listed together with names of the town elders.
"Balto!" Regis walked into the fort saluting the guard who watched Buurn through narrowed eyes. Muttering under his breath Regis added, "When was he promoted?"
"You know him?"
Buurn followed Regis to a small room where a middle-aged man with graying hair and weathered skin looked up at them with a frown. He looked at Buurn with a sneer.
"Can I help you, my lord?" the man at the desk asked, casting a wary glance at Buurn as she examined the portal rings piled on the shelves that covered the walls from floor to ceiling. Some of the rings were cast of bronze, some of steel and others of copper and they varied in size from one to three feet in diameter. The largest rings of them all would require two or more persons to carry them.
"Is Balto available?" Regis asked, looking at the man who was paying more attention to Buurn than was healthy.
"Master Balto is upstairs, sire." The man stared at Regis with a cold glint in his eyes. Pointing directly at Buurn he growled. “That – can't go there."
"She is with me and will be staying with me, understand? I will not tolerate any prejudice. I will be reporting you to Master Balto."
Regis turned and strode away, one hand on the pummel of his sword, the other swinging angrily at his side. Buurn followed at her usual, leisurely pace. She looked back at the man behind the desk who was now standing glowering after her. Buurn bowed politely, then followed Regis up the stairs where he waited at the top. He looked down at her as she walked nonchalantly toward him.
"Why we tolerate bigots like that I'll never know," Regis spat out.
"I am not bothered by his opinions; there is no offence as far as I am concerned." Buurn placed her hand on his shoulder, and smiling softly she added, "Let us just do what we have to. This following of procedure is losing us valuable time."
"Very well," Regis sighed, "this way. He will be at the head table."
As they rounded the next corner, they walked right in
to Balto who was gazing into the eyes of a young woman he was escorting from the building.
"Regis!" Balto blurted. "How's the hunt for Dekor going?"
"That's why we are here." Regis gave a quick smile to the young woman who unwound her arm from Balto. "We have traced the enchantment on his robes to here. He is somewhere in Lee."
"That cannot be, we would have been seen." Balto gave the young woman a gentle pat on her backside to move her along. "I'll catch up with you later." He coughed.
"We used an Elemental Eye to track the enchantment. He, or at least his cloak, came to this town. However, there are now so many magical trails it has become difficult to discern." Buurn straightened her stance, folding her hands held gently behind her back.
"Do whatever is needed; you have my full consent as Regional Knight." He placed his hand on Regis' shoulder. "Use whatever means that you deem necessary, though I must admit I am surprised he came this way. There are more armed forces this side of Mor than any other."
"That may be so. But this is where the trail leads. However, I do agree with what you say." Regis turned to leave then, turning back, smiled. "Oh, congratulations on the promotion." He clenched his fist and grinned, flashing a full set of teeth at Balto.
"Out of here," Balto laughingly waved them away.
As they stepped outside Buurn retrieved the Elemental Eye from her clothes and looked through it, up the road one way, then down it the other.
"There." She pointed at a green-cloaked figure vanishing around a corner.
"I see him." Regis sprinted after Buurn and the fleeing figure.
Before he even had pulled his sword from its scabbard, Buurn was already disappearing around the corner. With the Elemental Eye held to her own, Buurn followed the glowing trail through the stalls, dodging left and right to avoid the buyers who called obscenities after her. Buurn ran on, closing the gap on her quarry with every stride.
The figure looking back over its shoulder was beginning to slow. As the ageing woman stumbled along the street, wrinkles spread from her eyes, her lips became dry and cracked and her legs ached. All too soon the enchantment of youth was exhausted. The old woman swerved into an open doorway, slamming the door shut behind her. Buurn slid on the dusty road, but reaching out her hand she grabbed the handle just as the door was closed in her face. Regis, pounding down the road after Buurn, his chain-mail weighing heavily on his shoulders, yelled at the people to move aside. Many stood cheering him on as he chased after Buurn, thinking she was the one he was pursuing.
Buurn closed her eyes, searching the building with her senses. She could feel the old woman's heart pounding furiously, pumping the blood through her veins, her breath a series of rattling gasps.
Opening the door slowly, as far as it would go, Buurn stepped into the entrance holding out her hand to prevent Regis from blundering into the room. Inside it was nothing more than a simple storeroom. Buurn pointed to the woman slumped against sacks of grain, swallowing air in large gulps. The woman pulled the hood from her head with a weary arm and stood staring at Regis and Buurn. She sat heavily on a crate of salted meats. As she drew a long breath and let it out, the remnants of Dekor's likeness faded from her. Buurn slipping the Elemental Eye back among the straps of her clothing and waited for the old woman to regain her breath.
"What in the Divines?" Regis asked wide-eyed and open-mouthed. "What are you?"
"Old," the old woman replied, shaking her cloak as though she were trying to remove something undesirable from it.
"A witch," Buurn said as she walked over to the woman.
She took up a seat on the sacks of grain while Regis stepped inside and closed the door.
"So where is Dekor?" Buurn looked at the old woman with a penetrating gaze.
Trembling, the old woman trembling screamed, “Get out of my head!” Tears welling in her eyes, she clutched her hands to her ears.
"I will not," Buurn replied coolly, "until you tell me what I want to know. Where is Dekor... your nephew?"
"Out – plee-ees," the old woman whimpered falling to her knees.
"Tell me." Buurn knelt in front of her, maintaining eye contact.
Regis backed toward the door and crashed into it, bringing a shower of dust from its aged frame.
"I don't want to," the old woman howled as she fell forward onto the dusty stone floor.
"She doesn't know." Buurn rose to her feet and released the old woman from her control. "She sent him to the forest and led us here to buy him time."
The old woman held her hands to her face sobbing heavily, blood trickling from her ears and eyes.
"What shall we do with her?" Buurn turned to Regis who was still pressed against the door, his eyes locked onto Buurn. Regis swallowed hard. "Well?"
Dekor’s aunt pushed herself up onto her knees and staring up at Regis she began to sing softly. Her face was streaked with blood and flecked with dust. Holding up her hands as though surrendering, she cackled and vanished with a loud crack.
"I guess that answers my question." Regis spun around, unlocked the door and rushed outside, in the process scattering the small crowd gathered there. Buurn followed him outside, a puzzled look etched upon her face.
"What are you? I’ve never seen anything like what you did." He pointed a wavering arm at the storeroom.
"I am a darkling," Buurn shrugged, as though that answered everything. "We must move on. We are now days behind."
Buurn dusted herself down, walking back through the watching crowds which parted willingly for her pass. This time the people's tongues were tamed to hushed whispers.
Seeing he was to receive no further explanation of her abilities, Regis shook his head and, gathering himself together, he trotted after Buurn.
"We can use the portal in the fort to get to Trill. It is a small outpost in the north-east of Mor. Here," he passed Buurn the grubby, thumb-stained parchment, "I took it from the stores while the old man was watching you."
Buurn unfolded the parchment. "Thank you." She folded the map and inserted it into her clothes.
When they arrived at the fort, they found Balto admonishing the desk clerk. "Keep your opinions to yourself in future... Regis! Buurn!" He turned to face them, his face flushed. "How goes it?"
"It was not Dekor. His aunt had transformed into his likeness. Lured us away from Dekor while he ran to Learmont. I suspect that he is trying to cross the mountains into Meregith. We need to use the portal to Trill."
"By all means." Balto spun on his heel and marched out of the room.
Regis flashed a glaring look at the clerk as he turned to follow Balto. Buurn bowed politely again and followed in step behind Balto and Regis.
"Here's the portal. You'll need a guild seal to use it." Balto took a little metallic token from a leather bag hanging on the wall beside a line of gold and purple pennants depicting the guild symbol of a hand holding both lightening and frost.
Taking the seal and placing it into her clothing, Buurn stepped through the portal.
"Totally fearless," Balto muttered.
Regis replied through gritted teeth, "You've seen nothing. We need to know more about these darklings." Then he stepped through the portal.
"What the...?" Stumbling over the soldier lying on the floor, a dark bruise forming on the side of the fallen man's head, Regis fell into Burrn's arms. Others figures lay slumped in untidy piles against the walls.
"I am sorry." Buurn bowed her head. "I had no choice but to defend myself."
"They attacked you?" Regis rubbed a weary hand over his forehead. He looked around the room counting. "There are five of them here. Where are the other three?"
"They ran this way." Buurn straightened her back and walked out through the door into the courtyard where a rough circle of haggard training dummies hung limply on their posts.
Regis boomed, "Get back here at once!"
The three soldiers stopped, turned slowly around and held their swords at the ready. The sight of Regis did no
thing to allay their fear of the darkling. "Do you attack everyone that comes through a sealed portal? Do you?" The soldiers lifted their heads grimacing. Regis outraged, bore into them. "I never thought to see this of any guild members. It is forbidden to do this. Protocol dictates that you question... not assault. That is why we have regular training."
Regis strode over to the nearest practice dummy and struck it with his sword. The dummy spiraled around its post before coming to rest in the dirt. "Who's in charge of this debacle?"
"Kirkland, sire," the soldier gasped as he tried to stand to attention on an injured leg while maintaining a safe distance from Buurn. "He was the first to..." giving Buurn sideways look, "succumb, sire."
Regis growled. "I've no time for this. Has anyone seen a boy in a green cloak, a mage?"
"We don't see many out this far, sire, mostly dwarves and traders." The soldier thought for a moment. "Though there were reports of lights in the woods recently. If he did come that route, that could have been him. We've not seen anyone in town." He looked over toward the Dark Iron Hills where Griklag kept his cabins. "You could speak to the old dwarf in those cabins over yonder. He watches the roads all the time."
Regis turned and looked toward the cabins. "I've no time."
"I'm going to look around with the Elemental Eye." Buurn ran toward the stables. In a single bound she landed on top of nearest one, running as swiftly as an arrow toward the barracks where she jumped again, landing on the roof. With the Elemental Eye, it was possible for her see where the trail ended, some distance from the perimeter wall.
Buurn raced down the roof of the barracks toward the courtyard. Leaping off the edge she landed and rolled forward, leaping straight back onto her feet in a single flowing movement. Regis and the three soldiers all stood agape as, tucking the Elemental Eye back into her clothing, she walked casually over to them as though nothing had happened. "His trail ends not far from that wall. It is rather weak, no more than two days old at best. "You can see his trail," the soldier pointed at the roof of the barracks, "from up there?"
"We have a glass that allows us to see enchantments." Regis dismissed the soldiers with a carefree wave of his hand and turned to Buurn. "Just what are you?" he asked.
"All of my people possess such abilities; it enables us to pursue our prey more effectively. High elves do not have these gifts; they possess magic similar to yours."
"There was nothing about your abilities in our training. The only one of your kind that I have met before is H'rat, and he tells us nothing." Regis almost spat his last words out. He had no liking for H'rat and his divisive ways.
Regis led them back through the barracks and out into the village where they circled back around heading out toward Dekor's trail.
"H'rat's popularity is not dissimilar among his own kind. He is eager to overthrow the monarchy and raise his family to power," Buurn stifled a snigger. "High Elves are, unfortunately, not the wisest decision makers. They are more concerned with their own importance and what they may receive from aiding H'rat. He has been trying for over a hundred years, to take the throne from my... the king. Here is where the trail ends." Buurn looked up the mountains.
"It will take us days to climb over them," Regis groaned, defeated. "What now?"
Buurn pulled out the map. Unfolding it, she pointed to a small dot on the other side of the Dragon’s Teeth. "Is there a portal to there?"
"No," Regis sighed, "but there is one further up at Elms." He poked the map.
"If you take the portal to Elms, alert the guard and come back along here." She drew a line down the map with her finger. "I can cross the mountains and meet you around there."
"At Ashen?" Regis studied the mountains once more. "You believe you can cross them that quickly?"
"I have crossed the mountains of Meregith into Grimlaw many times. I have friends there."
"But you've never been to Mor?"
"Never needed to." Buurn replied curtly, ending the need for further questions. "I will go now and meet you on the other side." She turned and ran at the mountains, gathering speed then leaping high into the air, she spread her arms, floating like a petal in the afternoon sun.
Regis watched her until she was lost among the shadows of the towering peaks. He looked down at Trill, at the courtyard where the practice dummies sat in the dirt, guessing they would remain there for a long time to come.
In under an hour he was in the guild fort in Elms, explaining his mission to a less than helpful Captain.
"You can go about your business but don't expect any help from me and my men. I have none to spare for a goose chase." The captain shook his head, his lips curled up at one end. "Sorry."
"Watch out for the boy," Regis said turning to leave, "he's dangerous."
The sun was setting over Meregith when Regis stepped out into the busy streets. Elms was the main market town in the east of Meregith, outside the white walls of Kelross to its north. Across the road stood the inn, already filling up. Regis took a deep breath of the evening air. The smell of horses and cattle hung beneath the rich aroma of the food that was drifting out of the open door of the inn. Regis took a deep snort of the air as he stepped inside the inn; he could already taste the rich honey-laden mead.
back to the hunt
The temperature on the Dragon’s Teeth plummeted as the shadows swept across them, chasing out the remnants of day. Winds scoured the narrow ravines searching for flesh to chill. Buurn hung motionless in the air with her eyes closed, sensing, searching every crevice for signs of life. A mountain goat shivered while bleating for its mate to come and settle for the night. Buurn let the dried out remains of the nanny goat fall to the earth, bursting into a cloud of dust on the rocks. The startled billy goat ran bleating from its shelter.
Buurn lowered herself to the ground, landing softly. A wicked smile broke upon her face as she leapt to a nearby boulder, then quickly to another and another. Covering ground at a ferocious pace, she was a predator, gaining momentum with every bound, pausing only briefly to examine the mountains for traces of Dekor, her senses tingling. Beneath the surface were hundreds of life forms; she could feel their blood pulsing through their tiny humanoid bodies. Could the legends of the Mage Wars be true? Had the elves attempted genocide? If they had, then they failed to eradicate their enemies. Buurn smiled. Her father would love to hear this, but he had been cast where no one could return from. Her smile quickly faded. Some memories hurt no matter how far they are pushed down. Her brother would one day pay for what he had done.
Buurn moved on, leaping and bounding down the narrow ravines, her vision as clear at night as it was by day. The moon swept across the night sky casting long shadows toward the purpling sky. Morning was fast approaching. Buurn clung to the rock wall looking out across the moonlit land of Meregith, a land of rolling meadows dotted with small woods. The sparkling walls of Kelross glittered in the moonlight. She had witnessed the laying of this city’s foundations as a child when her father had taken her and her siblings on expeditions. It was a city built as a refuge from the confines of the Delvings. Then the orcs came.
Buurn sat on a large moss-flecked boulder, and leaning forward she placed her hands gently on her thighs. She listened to the night whispering its secrets to the rising sun as it peeped over the Dark Iron Hills. Straightening her back Buurn stretched her arms and lowered her hands to the rock. Springing to her feet, she whirled around, examining the ground and the rocks, running her fingers over the place where Dekor had sat talking to Griklag.
"A dwarf, a Talloran and a fugitive." Buurn stepped from one point to another in the exact positions where they had been. "Griklag!" she growled, "wait until I speak to Arrborn." Seething, she leapt from the face of the mountain toward the grassy fields of Meregith.