FreeHolds Adventure, Cycle 1 Part 7a

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Part 7) Adwin

Adwin’s muscles had mostly adapted to riding, though the skin of his inner thighs was still very sensitive and the goblin wound from a month back itched something awful. He was also concerned about Tipper, not so much for her sake or well being, more for his own and what it meant that she had blood of the ancients races. She said she was nearly sixty, she was a better tracker and hunter, she killed with an almost casual efficiency and she knew so much about the world.

In a way he was glad Tipper had told him she was long lived and descendant from ancient bloodlines, it justified her skill, lore and wisdom. He felt a bit less like a bumbling fool beside her knowing that the difference in ability and likely outlook came from many more years of experience than he himself had. In fact, if he had reckoned correctly, she was older than his grandparents would have been, had they still been counted among the living.

He was trailing the other two, leading the string of extra horses most often had him in this position over the last few days. Mokha was only a bit ahead of him along the trail they had been following. He was working on a new song about the migratory path of the wild elves, plucking out odd bits of music on his lute and sometimes singing in Tannican or Andalee. Tipper was a fair way ahead of them, presently she and her red pony had crested a modest hill, she rode without a saddle and seemed to float atop the horse. He could see her looking around the landscape, always vigilant for danger and doubly so for pursuit from the east. He was pretty sure she expected disaster at every moment and wondered how she stayed calm and focused on other things. Dawdwin would have liked her.

A gentle rainfall had persisted through the morning though the sky had cleared shortly after midday, the heat of the day was becoming oppressive, the insects were swarming. Adwin figured he had been bitten more times today than all the rest of his trip combined. Tipper had said last night that she expected them to be an eight-day or so travelling the migratory path, not counting the two days they had already been doing just that.

The migratory path of the wild elves was a wonder. There was food everywhere, the plants more lush and the variety more abundant than he had ever seen on the plains. Even the familiar plants were larger and seemingly older than any he had seen elsewhere and the variety of trees much more diverse. Nothing that Tipper or Mokha would call a forest and usually no more numerous than that of Lord Willik’s reserve, still some of them were huge, many over thirty paces tall.

The other thing about the wild elves home, despite what was seemingly a natural arrangement willed by the gods or unfurled by the winds and natural creatures, he had the sense he was moving through a massive garden arrangement. The aesthetic wonder and sweeping beauty was overwhelming at times. While it all appeared to be a natural homogeneous arrangement there were times when the lay of natural rock or the track of a dried seasonal stream presented as wall or stone path. All combined to present the land as if some mad noble had crafted the worlds largest gardens, in the middle of nowhere.

Then there were the standing stones, two hilltops had held circles of them and many individual stones stood at diverse places throughout the landscape. Tipper said the circles were calendars, to mark the seasons, years, centuries and millennia and that their placement aligned with the stars, the sun, the moons and the planets above. Until that point Adwin had not realized there were other planets or even that a moon was like a planet or that the stars were like the sun. His head still hurt when he tried to imagine all those celestial bodies moving around each other, endlessly spinning in a repeating pattern. In comparison the lone standing stones, which Tipper said usually marked some momentous occasion having been placed hundreds or even thousands of years ago, seemed downright mundane and incidental.

Regardless, more than anything else on his journey, this land of the wild elves seemed like an adventure.

He noticed that Tipper was making her way back down the hill, heading in their direction, which likely meant she had spotted something of interest or concern and was going to inform them of what she had seen. When she reached Mokha the two of them stopped and Tipper waved for Adwin to join them. A few moments later he reigned in alongside Mokha, the other horses started to chomp the lush grass and shrubbery at their feet.

Tipper had her serious face on when she said, “Sharlok’s men are behind us, three yat back. Not the full dozen we’d seen a couple days ago, I saw five, though there may have been others that I could not see. A few yat northwest of here is a series of rock outcroppings, I figure we can get in among them before the soldiers get here. We can stay ahead of them as they’re likely to be cautious moving through such terrain. If we’re lucky we can find a point to ambush them.”

Mokha nodded and secured his lute. Adwin gave a bit of an involuntary groan, thinking about his sore muscles, but checked the lead on the other horses and said, “If the terrain is too rocky we’ll have to slow for the horses.”

“Of course.” She said and turned her mount and started back west, skirting the hill, gradually bringing their pace up to a canter.

So it went until they reached the rocky area, the sun had dropped halfway to the western horizon by that time. Adwin took out some jerky and slowly munched on it as Tipper lead them cautiously between two of the outcrops. The stone was mostly black with red flecks, small amounts of it had weathered free but there was no accumulation of scree. Wind packed earth and loose sand filled the spaces between the outcroppings, a coarse shrub grew close to the dark stones. The lay of the land dipped lower as they moved westward through the maze-like formation. Periodically, unfamiliar birds took flight. A family of curious rodents, similar to a prairie dog, but larger, watched as they passed though some of them jumped into their burrows when they felt the horses had come too close.

The area around them became tricky with shadows and loose sand. Adwin saw a large snake slither away from them, he had never seen its like before, he would have asked the others, but the string of horses kept him busy. Sound was carried oddly through the stones and the horses became nervous. Their pace slowed and Tipper stayed close, alert for dangers. The sun was only a few fingers above the horizon by the time they cleared the odd stone formations, Adwin felt some disorientation as the terrain transformed back to gentle rolling hills and scattered trees. Some of the trees seemed unusually large to him.

Tipper increased the pace moving along the low ground between the hills, most of the way was fairly easy going as they moved along a dry stream bed of sand and fine stones, worn smooth by untold number of spring floods.

When Tipper stopped the sun had sunken below the hill line, long shadows played across rounded peaks. They hobbled the horses and gave them the last of the feed and water from their skins. They kept their camp simple, without fire, eating cold food. Tipper did not sing the setting of the sun and not for the first time they heard other distant voices carried on the breeze, voices raised in ancient ritual.

Tipper told the two of them to get some sleep, she would take first watch. Mokha obviously wanted to continue their ongoing conversation about the half elves and the magic of this land but Tipper would have none of it, not tonight. She said there was danger, her tone of voice dead serious and Adwin felt the skin across his scalp prickle and the hair along his arms stood on end. He didn’t even complain about his sore ass. He laid out his bedroll and lay down fully dressed, it was many moments before his heart stopped racing and he was able to calm his mind. He did fall asleep.

Only to wake up what seemed like moments later, but Masri set him straight, a bit more than half the night had passed. Tipper offered him an arm and pulled him up to his feet.

“Has it been quiet?” He asked through a yawn.

“Mostly, some coyotes and a large cat some distance south of here. It was screaming about something for a while, then nothing. I’ve seen no nearby fires. But keep alert, I still feel that death hangs in the air about us.”

Adwin, worked up again by her spooky foretelling, kept a careful vigil, walking around the horses and some paces out and around their camp, venturing periodically to the nearest hill top, then back down to do it all again. Eventually he remembered he was sore and went back to the camp to sit awhile. The night passed slowly, Adwin was on the edge of sleep when he heard what he thought was goblins chattering one to another. He started to his feet and very carefully listened and then looked around.

He resumed his patrol pattern and had just returned from his second visit to the hilltop when a not so distant scream split the air. Adwin froze. Another scream, then two or three at once, some shouting. He ran to Tipper, tripped on something in the dark and crashed to the ground near his companions.

The screams continued, one was long and agonized and rose above the rest until the voice that screamed in such horror was cut short. Then horses were screaming and more men, metal clanged off metal or stone, sharp notes cutting through the cries and bellows of men fighting. Then a distant horse running away at full gallop and one mans voice fading from shout to distant whimper, no, no, no, no, no, no, no.

Adwin pulled his hat over his eyes and curled around himself.

Something thumped into his side, “Get up.” Tipper’s voice.

He pulled the hat away from his eyes and got to his feet, retrieving his staff, he then stood next to his friends in the dark. “What was that?”

“Men, men and horses dying.” Mokha said.

“I don’t think it was men fighting men.” Tipper said.”Stay ready.”

Their horses had also been bothered by the disturbance, though not wildly so. As the slow moments passed they settled further and then seemed to resume their usual nighttime activity. Another long moment and Tipper relaxed a bit.

“Whatever has happened, the threat is gone.” She said.

They sat up together for some time after that, unsettled and not very talkative. Adwin did fall asleep again before dawn, but woke when Tipper started to sing the rising of the sun.

There was some discussion about whether or not they should go back to investigate. Adwin had no interest while Mokha seemed inclined to think of the supplies and whatnot that might be had. Tipper was of two minds, thinking that knowing what had happened held much merit, but not wanting to risk a similar fate and certainly disinclined to loot the bodies as Mokha had so civilly suggested.

They rode on, all of them casting a glance back now and then, but nothing followed.

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