Chapter 5

 

            A crunching noise threw Arateer from his unconscious state. Still groggy from sleep, he forced his eyes open, trying to adjust to the morning light. The crunching sound came closer and he realized they were footsteps.  His heart jumped and he was wide-awake. He quickly and silently slid the branches off and peeked his head above the snow wall.

            His heart dropped to his stomach as he gazed upon the L’thorian standing in the clearing, sniffing deeply. Keeping his eyes on the creature, he felt with hands until one of them felt the branches on top of the pile of weapons. Arateer turned his head away from the L’thorian and focused his attention on arming himself.

            It took him a few seconds to slide his belt on, and he fumbled with the clip. He slid his quiver and bow onto his back and drew one of his swords quietly. He turned his attention back to the clearing and a quick scream was torn form his throat. The L’thorian was inches from his face.

            He stabbed forward with the sword, but his lingering drowsiness affected his attempt and the sword only glanced off of its armor. It growled and lunged for Arateer, who jumped back against the bush shielding Loraden with his body. With a battle cry, Toreal leapt from his hiding space and charged the soldier, who turned too slowly to stop the quick elf. Toreal’s’ sword flashed and lopped the head of the L’thorian off of it’s body. Reddish-black blood spewed from the wound, coating the white snow and turning it an awful color.

            A yell came from somewhere in the woods and many footsteps began to sound, heading towards the clearing. Toreal turned and sprinted towards his hiding spot, diving into it just in the knick of time. Right as he was hidden from view, L’thorians stormed into the clearing, about twenty in total. Arateer didn’t move, hardly daring to breathe.

            One stepped forward, obviously the leader by the way it was dressed. It sniffed the air and a deep growl emanated from its chest. “They’re here,” it rumbled, “I can smell them.” Arateer turned and saw Loraden was awake. He motioned for him to stay quiet and to stay there. Arateer readied his swords and prepared to launch out of the bushes.

            “Now!” The voice cut through the cold air and arrows flew from the surrounding bushes, piercing the L’thorians in the clearing. Arateer took the chance and sprinted out of the bushes, engaging the remaining monsters. He slashed and thrust with all of his might, cutting through armor and bones like they were nothing.

Blood quickly covered the ground. In a matter of seconds, the entire group of L’thorians was dead, and Arateer stood in the middle of clearing, panting, covered in blood. His friends emerged from the bushes, some with their bows and others with their assorted weapons. The air was freezing, and a few lonely snowflakes drifted down from the trees above. Clouds of vapor escaped from their mouths at every breath.

“We need to move now.” Arateer gasped. “They found us faster than I expected. We need to keep moving and lose them again.” As he said this, Arateer’s stomach growled loudly and his stomach ached with hunger pangs. He grimaced, and looked around at the faces staring back at him. They were all hungry, but would abandon the idea of a morning meal if Arateer gave the word. This said a great deal about his friends, and he made a decision.

“We’ll stay here a few more hours. We need to gather food and make a fire. Keeping our energy up is one of the most important things we can do right now, and I think we have to take the risk now. We need to split up and hunt for food.”

No one objected, so he continued. “We’ll split up into groups of no less than three. I was thinking I could stay here with Loraden, Filear, and Morgatell so we could set up the fire and hide the campsite from view even more. Erineya, Iraslayne and Oriadne. You three go out and hunt for food. We need as much as we can get. The same goes for you three as well.” He beckoned to Thermaon, Toreal, and Arraley as he said this.

            Everyone moved out and started their tasks. Those left in the camp started fixing up the clearing. Filear and Loraden started making the clearing less visible while Morgatell moved all of the bodies into the woods. Arateer began to start the fire, but worked slowly because of his fatigue and lack of food.

            After ten agonizing minutes of work, Arateer finally had a fire going. By that time, Morgatell had moved all the bodies and dragged up a log he found in the woods for some of them to sit on. Arateer collapsed on the log, exhausted. Morgatell dropped down besides him and they sat in silence, watching Filear and Loraden put the finishing touches on their cover.

            Arateer started to shiver and moved closer to the fire, letting the small crackling flames warm him. Heat spread slowly throughout his body and he sighed contently.  He leaned back again and Morgatell looked at him.

            “I miss my family.” The larger elf whispered, choking slightly. “I never got to say goodbye, not even to my little sister. She was my best friend. Her name was Moraray.” He fell silent a single tear slid down his cheek. Arateer knew that the events from the day before were taking a hard toll on everyone, and he decided he had to remain strong, to guide them along in this troubling time. It was his duty as a leader.

            They sat in silence again, and soon Filear and Loraden joined them. Neither of them said anything, but Loraden gave Arateer a hug, and sobbed silently. Arateer wrapped his arms around his younger brother, trying to lessen the pain he was feeling.

            At this moment, Theramon entered the clearing carrying three rabbits.
The others, who were dragging the body of a deer behind them, followed him. Arateer drew his hunting knife and immediately began to clean the deer, tossing the unused parts into the woods, during which his friends erased the trail they had left into the clearing`. While he was cutting some meat from the body, his hand slipped and he sliced open his hand.

            Cursing, he dropped the knife. His hand throbbed, and blood began to drip from his wound. Before anything else could happen, he felt a tingle in his stomach, and it spread throughout his body, with strong sensations in the palms of his hands. He looked at them, and they had begun to glow a faint green color. The glow traveled quickly up his arms and soon his body was glowing. Arateer watched in amazement as the cut on his hand slowly sealed itself. He looked down at his leg and the wound he had received earlier was healed too.

            Dumbfounded, Arateer checked his whole body and saw that every single wound he had was healed, and even his aching muscles were rejuvenated. The glow receded, and Arateer sat there silently, awestruck. Everyone around the campfire was staring at him too, jaws open. The only one who didn’t seem surprised at all was Theramon, but he was rarely ever surprised.

            “What…….What……what was that?” Stammered Filear.  Arateer shrugged, still unable to create words. He slowly slid his hand over the spot where his cut had been, feeling the smooth skin.

            Come to the Mountains of Ehilil, and there, between the highest peaks, you will find your answers. Arateer jumped. A smooth, deep, ancient sounding voice had spoken, but no else made any signs that they had heard it. Then, he realized it had come from inside his head, causing him some concern and wonder.

The Mountains of Ehilil were shrouded in mystery and fear, supposedly containing an evil cult of wizards who lived in a fortress somewhere in the mountains. None who ventured in the mountains were ever seen alive again, but their bodies were found around the base of the mountains, some torn to pieces and others in one piece, as if they had dropped dead of their own accord. Arateer didn’t even know where the legendary Mountains of Ehilil were, but he sensed that he had to go there, no matter what the stories said.

“I know where we must go.” Arateer said, breaking the silence. The others were still gawking at him.

“Arateer.” Said Erineya slowly.

“Yes?”

“How did you just do that?” She asked.

“I honestly don’t know.” Arateer replied. “But I can tell you, it’s the weirdest experience I’ve ever had.”

“AH!” the scream came from Toreal, and they all turned to look at him. A cut on his hand was bleeding, and he was holding a bloody knife in his hand.

“Why did you do that!”  Exclaimed Arateer.

Toreal looked sheepish. “I wanted to see if I could heal like you did.” He stood, staring eagerly at his hand. After a minute had gone by, he frowned. “Why am I not healing too?” He asked, confused.

“I….I don’t know.” Arateer stammered. “Why would you even do that to yourself anyways? That was a pointless and frankly stupid decision.”

Toreal wisely said nothing, and had the decency to look ashamed. A long and uncomfortable silence followed this, and the crackle of the fire was barely loud enough to be heard. Theramon cleared his throat.

“If I may speak,” he said queitly, his smooth voice cutting through the silence like a boat cuts through the water, “Where are we going? You said you knew where we had to go.”

Arateer sighed inwardly, knowing that the news probably wouldn’t be received well. They had every right not to take it well either. The Mountains of Ehilil were very treacherous, and even getting there was dangerous. They had no guarantee that any of them would make it out alive. He looked up and realized that they were all staring at him intensely, and his cheeks reddened slightly. He’d zoned out without meaning to.

“Well,” he began, “It’s hard to explain, but we have to go to the Mountains of Ehilil. I have a very strong sense that this is where we need to go. I’m not asking any of you to come with me. We all know how dangerous it is, or at least how dangerous the stories say it is, and I don’t want to bring death to any of you.”

He paused to breathe, and Oriadne cut him off. “Arateer, we’re going with you. You’re going to have to try a lot harder to get rid of us.” She said smirking, a  flirtatious light in her eyes. “Besides, you can’t be a leader without people to lead. Now, we’ve spent enough time standing here talking, let’s eat.” She turned around expectantly and her face fell. The fire was out, and she realized the deer was still beside Arateer, half cut open, with the smaller game’s meat stacked neatly by the ashes.

“The fire went out.” She said plainly.

“Really?” said Iraslayne sarcastically. “I though that the flames just got up and walked away.” Oriadne shot him a glare, but she couldn’t keep a straight face. She laughed.

“You’re wit is nearly as large as your nose.” Iraslayne, who had always had a regularly sized nose but had created a source of insecurity from it, quickly put his arm over his nose like he was sneezing, shielding it form view.

“Are we going to stand here and talk all day so we can freeze to death?” Complained Erineya. “Or are we going to get to work?” As she said this, she moved the fire and immediately set to getting the fire back going. Arateer moved off and grabbed some twigs, adding them to stack in the middle of the fire. He picked up his own flint and steel and moved to the fire.

“I’ll do this.” He said. “You go help with the meat. Besides, you’re a really good cook, so let’s see what you can do.” She smiled and moved off, leaving Arateer alone to tend to the fire. Arateer started to strike the flint and steel, and bright sparks jumped to the fire. He struck them over and over, but to no avail. The wood would not catch.

The more he tried, the angrier he got. He struck faster and faster, his anger building with every stroke. A tingle started in his stomach, and started to move throughout his body, slowly consuming him. His anger reaching a breaking point, he screamed inwardly, and fire leapt from the flint and steel onto the fire, setting it ablaze. Arateer jumped back, thoroughly confused and mystified.

No one else seemed to notice, and he decided to ignore it. It’s probably just a freak accident he thought.  This is getting weird though. Being able to heal my wounds and maybe being able to summoning fire. Something is definitely up, but I have to make sure.

Arateer backed up from the fire and stood, facing it, the flint and steel ready in his hands. He concentrated hard, thinking clearly of summoning fire. He breathed deeply and tried to summoning it, straining his muscles and brain, striking the flint and steel hard. He tried so long that he nearly passed out, but to no avail. Neither the tingle nor the fire came, and he angrily came to the conclusion that it was just a freak accident.

The others were done cleaning the deer and they set the meat on some rocks at the edge of the fire. After a few minutes, a delicious aroma filled the air. Arateer’s stomach growled, sounding like a wolf. Soon, the food was ready and the meat was portioned out. Arateer blew on his meat to cool it, and took a large bite. The savory juices squirted from the meat into his mouth, filling it with the amazing mix of flavors.

He chewed slowly, enjoying the food thoroughly. He knew it wasn’t ordinary meat, and he assumed that Erineya had used her own special blend of spices to flavor the meat, but where she’d gotten the spices from was a mystery to him.

He took another bite and sighed with pleasure. Morgatell burped, and licked his lips hungrily. He had already finished his portion and wanted more. He eyed the last piece of meat at the edge of the fire. He dove for it, but it was swiped first by Oriadne, who took a large bite out of it, winking at Morgatell. His cheeks reddened, and he grinned.

Soon, the group had finished eating. They were all sitting around the fire, content with just relaxing, letting the fire’s heat dive away the cold. Arateer knew it was very comfortable being there, but he knew that if they stayed there for much longer, they could be found and killed. He glanced across the fire and made contact with Arraley. She nodded, knowing it was time to leave.

Arateer stood. “It’s time to leave. Grab whatever you have and let’s move out.” He said abruptly. He already had everything on him, so he sat by the fire and waited with Loraden while the rest grabbed whatever they had left in their spots. Since they didn’t’ have many items with them, everyone was ready to go within a minute.

            “Follow me.” He said and he jogged off into the woods, followed by his friends. They were heading in the direction that had been the day before. They kept up the steady pace, eating away miles under the feet. A few times, they heard one of the flying creatures above them, and they all hid. Most of the time, though, they were just running.

            As the day progressed, the air grew colder and colder, and soon Arateer’s throat was raspy from breathing in the frosty air. His feet were also numb from the cold, which had eventually seeped through his leather boots. He knew the pace they were going was hurting everyone, but they had to do it. It was either this or die.

            The trees seemed to be growing in height as they progressed, and the mountains were definitely getting closer. One thing he hadn’t thought of was how they were going to cross them. Going over would take days, and would be very dangerous with such frigid temperatures, plus their obvious lack of supplies, but what other choice did he have.

            After a few hours, they found another clearing, this one slightly large, and it had a small creek running through it. Arateer signaled for a stop and everyone gladly dropped to the ground. Arateer walked over to the creek and knelt besides it, splashing some of the water into his face. He woke up instantly, and his heart started racing. The water was colder than he would have thought. He cupped his hands and began to drink. Although cold, the water was very refreshing. He drank over and over again until he had his fill. He shuffled back over to the group and sat.

            “How much longer are we going to keep up like this?” asked Morgatell. He looked weary, and Arateer understood why. They had been running all day, already exhausted from the events of the previous day and the amount of slept they had.

            “Just a few more hours.” Arateer replied. Judging they had rested enough, he rose and beckoned for the rest to do the same. A few of them groaned, but they all rose. Loraden walked over to Arateer slowly, and he could tell that his little brother was absolutely drained of energy.

            “Can I ride on your back for a little while?” asked Loraden.

            “Arateer gave him a tired smile. “Of course you can little buddy.” He knelt down and Loraden climbed onto his back. They started out again, going slower than they had been to account for Arateer carrying Loraden. Soon, night began to fall, and they were forced to set up camp. There was little conversation. Everyone was tired and just want to sleep.

            Everyone dug out their sleeping spots and drifted off to sleep. Arateer lay awake for a little bit, pondering the day’s events. He knew not how long he thought, but soon his eyelids grew heavy and he drifted off to sleep.

 

            Arateer woke up, and he knew something wasn’t right. It was still dark, so he had no idea why he was up. Something in his gut was telling him something was wrong. He looked around, but didn’t see anything. He was about to go back to sleep when he realized what it was and his heart turned cold.

            He jumped out of his hole and ran around waking up everyone as fast as he could. Toreal stumbled out, still half asleep.

            “What is it?” he asked yawning as he said.

            “It’s the L’thorians!” Arateer nearly screamed. “They’ve found us!”