EAST BALE
Something was watching them.
Something they could not see.
“We’re being watched!” Rasmus yelled this time, “Ready yourselves!”
They were on their way to the Elven territory at the outskirts of Bale. Rasmus had to look for a cure for his child.
His commands drew his guard to unsheathe their swords forming a circle around him and Alpha Rasmus. Even he drew out a small dagger he had strapped under his cloak as the air suddenly went silent.
The air stilled and turned chilly, the shadows lining the floors where the dirt path met trees looming closer like creeping vines with an almost conscious quality to it.
Pelto’s eyes shot form one point to another as if he could pin point where the attack could come from but before he could blink, a dark silhouette shot out of the nearest tree snatching one of the guards from atop his horses, pulling him into the shadowed forest.
Chaos broke out as the now startled guards broke formation spinning around to locate the invisible enemy that had snatched their comrade.
“It’s moving too quickly, Sir!” One of the guards said looking near tears as he looked around.
“Thank you for stating the obvious. Now keep your eyes peeled.” Rasmus commanded firmly even though he looked as skittish as the rest of them, “Gently move the horses ahead.”
The company began to move as slowly as they could as if they would not call any attention if they did so but the creature seemed have acquired a taste for their flesh. It darted again from one side of the woods to the other, a blur of darkness so thick it seemed to drink up the light that dared to enter its sacred home, snatching up the next guard that it could touch, this time ripping him open as it lifted him off the horse, spraying his blood all over his yelling companions in his wake.
“These swords are no use. Fire the guns. All of them!” Rasmus yelled spinning his horse around to face them.
The guards looked uneasily at each other, hesitating knowing exactly what that would mean. They didn’t have enough guns or ammunition to fight off whatever this monster was, if it’d even have any effect. Plus, the noise could only attract more predators to their rapidly diminishing party.
“My Lord, wouldn’t that just call more monsters to us?” Pelto asked trying the make the man see reason, “We can just make haste to return the way we came and be done with this suicide mission.”
“Rush off and have it maul us from behind, huh?” Alpha Ramus scolded glaring darkly, “I won’t be dying a coward’s death, Pelto. I say we kill it. Fire off into the woods. Every direction!”
The shots rang out as the guards obeyed their Alpha, shooting every direction, hoping to scare off the monster that lurked in the trees around them.
As the guns rang out, the guards kept being snatched bathing him and the stunned Alpha in pools of werewolf blood.
“Show yourself, Cowardly beast!” Rasmus yelled, swinging his sword as if that would scare away the monster that had decimated their party, “Take us on, face to face!”
As if wanting to humor him, seven hooded figures dropped from the trees surrounding them. They dropped their hoods revealing the pointed tips of their ears and their willowy stature brandishing thin bladed swords that sang an ethereal melody in the chilly air.
“Why do you foul our sacred woods with your foul stench, wolf? What do you seek? Death perhaps?” The tallest one spoke sheathing his sword, golden brown hair glittering with otherworldly light in the now lightening forest. His eyes drew one in like he offered safe harbor from whatever dangers they were running from but the blood coating him revealed a dangerous predator. His other Elven brethren appeared blood free as if they had hung back to watch him lay waste to the intruders. Pelto suspected they hadn’t even considered them worthy of the effort.
“We’d like to see your Chief please. We need your help.” He answered hands raised in surrender.
••••••••••••••••••••••••••
They were ordered off their horses, hands bound behind them as they were led through the woods into the tall silver gates of the Elven temple.
As they were led through into the bustling courtyard of the temple, the clash of a cymbal rang throughout the temple announcing the presence of their visitors.
Heads turned as they passed bearing similar looks of disgust, some even pushing their young away quickly. The Elves didn’t take kindly to visitors especially from other races they considered inferior to them.
The Elves that held Pelto and Rasmus hostage took them into the large double doors of the temple with large silver doors bearing an engraving of an Elven leader, the interior bearing stained glass windows with the same Elven Leader.
The interior of the large building held a wide oval chamber surrounded by stained glass windows letting in a rainbow of colored light that hung in the air making it look like something out of folk lore. Steel swords similar to what their guards wore and weapons unlike any they had seen before, hung on each portion of the wall. Each one had the name of a person engraved right above it. Pelto wondered if perhaps they belonged to Elves past or, with some chilly sense of foreboding, belonged to Elves waiting for an opportunity to use them.
Most of the Elves stood a good foot or two above Pelto and Rasmus, he noticed. The ones within the temple weren’t in Elven armor like the seven that had brought them in rather, these ones were in robes and the room was abuzz with activity as these Elves walked to and fro.
Pelto and Rasmus could tell that they were building or working on something but they couldn’t tell what it was. Some of them walked into and out of the room bearing herbs and all forms of metals. The others simply gave instructions to others and the flow of movement continued.
“Wondering what we’re up to?” A voice said from behind them, startling Pelto and Rasmus.
The seven elves turned around and bowed to the person who had spoken. He was an Elf standing more than a head taller than the tallest Elf in the room, appearing older still even though his age appeared in the timeless gracefulness he showed rather than wrinkles, with stark white hair flowing down his back in a long straight river and completely white eyes holding a staff with carvings in the Elven tongue.
Pelto and Rasmus stood confused, watching him, unable to determine if he was blind or it was a trick.
“Why do you stand before the High Seer?” One of their captors asked pulling them to their knees. Both werewolves crashed ungracefully to the cobble stoned floors of the temple eyes still on the powerful Elf before them.
The High Seer laughed walking past them unaided, staff clattering along as he strode. He didn’t move as one blindly searching for the way. On the contrary, he moved as though he saw everything visible and invisible to them.
“Would you believe I had seen a vision of your coming weeks before today? We have made preparations for the day you’d visit our home.” The High Seer said. “I am Yaris, High Chief of the eastern outpost and High Seer of the King of Elves. I must apologize for your companions. They weren’t in my vision.”
Pelto looked on, understanding that Elves didn’t completely live in Bale. The last invasion had pushed the Elves to this outpost in Bale which they had made their home centuries later. Some of the Elven survivors from the last war could very well be in this outpost as they outlived werewolves with their near immortal lifespan.
“Yes. You see well.” Yaris said to Pelto, reading his mind and leaving Pelto visibly shocked. “Many of us haven’t left this outpost since the last war. We haven’t returned to actual realm of elves because we haven’t achieved the goal of our departure.”
Yaris turned to Rasmus. “You are here to find a way to heal your son.”
Rasmus almost leapt for joy. “Yes. Yes!” He exclaimed, and then tried to comport himself more. “I am Rasmus, Alpha of….”
His words were cut short by Yaris’s intrusion. “I’ll save you the trouble.” The High chief said, lifting his staff to shut Rasmus up, “I know who you are and I know that you will do anything to help your son.”
“I will, High Chief. I have gold, I have lands, and I know the King. Anything you need.” Rasmus babbled, trying not to lose the opportunity to heal his son.
Yaris turned around now and made as if to walk away. “Your son can only be cured by us. Yet, we need the blood of his old mate. The girl.”
“But…”
“You will get her, and we can help you. But you must do something in return.” The elderly Elf smiled knowingly, eyes glinting suddenly.
“Anything. I’ll do anything.” Rasmus declared, his determination to save his son slipping into his words. Pelto knew the Alpha would really give anything, even his very soul.
“Anything you say?” The Elf asked in a sing song voice waving a hand behind him, signaling the guards to open the large double doors that loomed before them.
A wave of heat, so potent the beads of perspiration that had been trailing down his forehead dried off, hit them causing them to stumble backwards into the arms of their captors.
They were pushed forward into a wide chamber that went down many floors bathed in the orange glow of molten metal flowing through long gutters lining the walls as far down as they could see. A cacophony of sounds rose like something out of the myths of the realm of the underworld where sinners would be punished heightening the waves of fear that had been building in his stomach.
It hadn’t been wise coming to meet the Elves for help. He was starting to regret proposing the idea to the Alpha that was suddenly looking unsure of his decision.
His eyes returned to glimpse the powerful Elf smiling menacingly at them, eyes glowing in the growing darkness of the room, his staff floating in the air beside him.
Pelto tried to take a step back but his captors seemed to have other ideas pushing them forward till they teetered near the edge of the wide chasm below.
“You see, wolf. We have a plan to finish what we started all those centuries ago and you’re going to be of great help to us.” He said smiling down at them looking rather pleased with himself, “I have seen it written in the stars. You will help us conquer Hanaerum.”
Pelto paled as the High Seer laughed a deep hearty sound that didn’t at all depict one who was planning to invade another land.
“The best part is, you don’t have any choice in the matter. If you were to refuse,” he continued. “Your son will die, and your heads will decorate these very walls. If I were you, I’d be feeling very grateful.”
With that, their captives pushed them off the edge into the chasm that seemed to widen to accommodate them.