Chapter Fifteen: Against the ProgidalA Chapter by JakeChapter Fifteen: Against
the Prodigal Haven That evening The arrival of the Huntresses
brought the town watch together for an emergency meeting. Deyann, as the
commander of the group, made a command appearance. Carsten, Arcaena, Edessa,
Thomas, Rolf, and Mycal came with him, though Carsten was far from happy about
it. His day at the blacksmith’s had left him blasted black by smoke and smelling
like ash. Arcaena for her part, had gone to the bakery, where she had listened
in silent amusement to the talk of the mysterious benefactor who had returned
the cart after the narhol had gotten out of control. Edessa and Thomas’ days
had been long but rewarding, as they had finally managed to plow and sow the
entirety of the lower fields. Mycal and Rolf said little, but that development
worried their companions not at all. They notoriously opted not to share their
problems or feelings with those around them, a trait that made them stronger
and weaker simultaneously. They had no need to concern themselves with other’s
opinions or reactions, but they also could not rely on others’ assistance in
matters of the heart if they required it. Currently, Deyann and the other men
were having a secluded discussion in the watch house, while the gathered crowd
waited anxiously to hear what they would decide to do. “I don’t like this,” Carsten told
them. “They sit around talking about a problem so that they can sit around and
talk about a problem.” Arcaena stared at him. Hearing him
this agitated about something was a little refreshing; not that she disliked
his unflappable demeanor, but she inwardly smiled at his angst all the same. “Are you saying you want to take
action?” she asked. Carsten shook his head. “I’m saying that they’re here for
something,” he said. “They want to find Edessa. That’s more than likely why
they’re here in the first place.” The young Huntress shrugged. “So
they are. What do you suggest we do to remedy the situation?” “And how do you plan to do that?”
Mycal asked. “They would not let us anywhere near Telara to let her know that
her daughter is safe.” “Unless I come with you,” Edessa
pointed out. “And that is exactly what I plan to do.” “How will we get out?” Thomas asked.
“The gate is guarded.” “I know a way,” Mycal told them.
“Follow me and hurry it up. We do not want them to notice that we are gone.” Watch
house Deyann was sitting down in a carven
oak chair, listening to a particularly fiery speech being given by one
Thalserr, a tall, muscular man with sun bronzed skin and red hair. This color
ought not be confused with Carsten’s; while the dwarf’s hair was orange-brown,
Thalserr’s wild shock was a rich dark red, almost scarlet to some eyes. He was
in the midst of making a point quite passionately, his green eyes smoldering
with inner fire. In fact, it seemed to some present there that they flashed red
momentarily. “These…these Free have dared to
impugn our home once more,” he almost shouted. “Can we let this travesty
stand?” “What is the travesty they have
committed?” A dwarf named Gorme asked. His hair was stark white, conveying both
his great age and the wisdom he had acquired in his many years. “They sit
outside our gates and wait. They make no hostile overtures, and for all we
know, they could merely be tracking Telara’s lost daughter. I hardly think that
constitutes an act of war. In fact, to threaten violence may itself arouse
their suspicions of our involvement. And we have a bad enough reputation for
things we actually do.” “And that is another concern,”
Thalserr growled. “If they find her here, who can gainsay us if we tell her we
had nothing to do with her abduction? The Huntresses will not believe us.” “They may believe the word of the
Greencap,” Deyann interjected. “His testimony could carry a good deal of
weight.” Thalserr nodded. “They might. But,
old friend, I have to question your judgment on this point. Those five you took
in…do you really think it wise, knowing what we do?” “Any imprudence would have been
partially your fault,” Gorme pointed out. “After all, let us not forget why you
must seek refuge here.” The red-haired man bristled. “What
do you intend by that? I did nothing wrong. Everything I have done has been in
defense of my family. Everything. And even for all my attempts to safeguard
them, they still paid for what I did. Recall as well that I restrained myself
as much as possible.” Deyann surged to his feet. “And look
what your ‘restraint’ has precipitated. Arcaena grieves still for something you
took from her and that she still thinks she might have had. You gave the Free a
weapon in the other one, and now she has brought them here. Suffice it to say
that if they are not, we have far more serious matters to be concerned about.” “What are you talking about?” Gorme
asked. Deyann waved his hand. “Never mind.
We will discuss those matters only if Telara speaks on them. Otherwise, let the
matter rest. I say that we take no other action than counseling vigilance for
now.” “Agreed,” Gorme said. “While I hate
to concede it, I cannot argue that caution is the wisest course.” Thalserr
nodded slowly. “If you think it best, old friend,”
he said, addressing Deyann, “then that is what we shall do.” Gorme got to his
feet and exited the building to go give the order to the guardsmen while
Thalserr and Deyann remained behind. After several seconds of silence, the
red-haired man addressed the dark elf. “So, she joined the Huntresses. How
did that happen?” The other shook his head. “I cannot say. However, one thing is
certain: she cut her ears.” “How do you know this?” Thalserr
asked. “I have far wider resources than you
imagine,” the dark elf answered. “Just because I do not return often does not
mean I do not go at all.” The other nodded. “Yes, but…throwing in with Telara?
And at her family’s expense? Why?” He knitted his brows in frustration. “I knew
her once, and she would never have even have considered that course of action.” Deyann nodded. “And was that why you
chose to spare her?” The other shook his head. “I did so because that was what I
wanted for all of them. She and the other were the only ones I could
incapacitate. Whatever used to be is in the past, my friend. And I would not
have fought in the first place if I had been given any other choice.” The dark elf considered this
pensively, rubbing his chin. “I see. Well, if they come inside, then it might
be best that you, Carsten, and Arcaena make yourselves scarce. After all, your
presence could easily spark an altercation.” “Do you think Telara will enter
here?” He asked. Deyann shook his head. “I would
never have expected to even see her on the outskirts of the village. That she
came in the first place troubles me.” He was startled by Gorme rushing back
through the door, swinging it open with a voluble bang. “What is it now?” The
dark elf asked irritably. “It’s the Huntress’s daughter,”
Gorme told Deyann. “In fact, it’s all your visitors. They’ve gone.” Huntress
Camp Telara Wayfinder
sat on a stone, sharpening one of her many knives. It was more of a nervous
habit than anything else, as all her weapons stayed lethally sharp at all
times. Beside her, her personal aide Sarya was looking through her quiver of
javelins, checking the tips. Of the many fighters in her army, Sarya was one of
the few she trusted implicitly. She had come bloody and scared, a young woman
without anywhere to go or anyone to go there with. Huntress training had
hardened her and revealed a hard, tenacious fighter underneath. A series of
impressive kills followed, and Telara had soon assimilated Sarya into her elite
troop. In truth, they were not the only Huntresses; however, they were most
active by far. And Sarya was one of the most active one among them. “Telara…” her was low and scratchy
for a female, something she attributed to pulmonary burns in a fight with
salamander. Now, a salamander to most people is a cute, albeit slimy, lizard.
Nothing could be further from reality; these adorable amphibians are mere
offshoots of a greater lineage from time past. Their ancestors were much more
glorious and sizable, beasts six feet at the shoulder and on average twenty
from neck to tail. Their skin, instead of being covered in mere mucosal liquid,
actually dripped with acidic poison, it the softness of the creatures now
stands in stark contrast to their ironclad skin then. In short, they were
essentially dragons that dripped poison, with several key differences. First,
they had no wings, as all others of the species did. Second, they also lacked
an actual breath attack; instead of exhaling pure oxygen or liquefied nitrogen,
the two most common methods of dragon attack, they actually generated and
vomited up toxic gases that burned their victims’ skin and lungs. Third, in
place of the bladed spade tail most dragons had, theirs was a massive club; one
solid blow would easily break someone into a million bloody pieces. Still,
Sarya had managed, somehow, to survive, though the beast’s venom had damaged
her lungs and left her with a spider-web-like scar on the right side of her
face. Telara thought it looked more like a fire burn than a chemical one, but
she had never mentioned it to her friend. “Yes?” She went on sharpening her
knife, her eyes fixed on the work. If Sarya had a point, she would get to it in
time. “Why are we waiting?” Telara smiled.
For all her many good points, Sarya lacked patience; she acknowledged the fault
and worked-worked hard-to remedy it,
but progress was slow, to be kind. “Because they have nothing in that
village that will not be there by morning,” she answered. “I see no reason why
we should not wait till then. Let them sweat, I say. After all, if they are
afraid we mean ill, they will be more likely to give us what we want.” “Or to kill us,” Sarya amended.
“They might not exactly be kindly disposed to us if we appear hostile.” “Very true,” Telara said. “Even so,
the potential threat for violence might make them at least more hesitant to
defy us.” “Perhaps,” she murmured. “Still, I
am not certain. Perhaps it would be better to be completely honest with them,
do you not think?” “I do not,” Telara answered.
“Whatever they may think of us, we are in the right here. And I have no
intention of portraying weakness to them.” Willingness
to negotiate is not weakness, Sarya thought. She was about to verbalize
something to that effect, but a commotion at the eastern end of the camp
disrupted her dialogue and train of thought. “What is that?” Telara asked. “It
does not sound like battle.” “No clash of arms, no sound of
bows,” Sarya murmured. “I should think not. Perhaps they sent a delegation.” “They would not do so,” Telara
replied dismissively. “What purpose…” the sound of rushing feet silenced her,
and a disheveled-looking Huntress ran into the small circular area in front of
the command tent. She took several moments to catch her breath, and then the
words came in a flood. “My lady-I didn’t-they-it’s-” The
Huntress leader held up her hand. “Slow it down, lass.” The girl
nodded, breathing deeply. “That is better. Now, try again.” The girl inhaled
briefly, and then began once more. “My lady,” she said, “there are
Outlanders on the east side of camp. They bear only weapons for personal
defense, and they surrendered without a fight.” “Anything remarkable about them?”
she queried. “I…” the girl stopped, and then she
plunged onward, thinking honesty the best way to go. “My lady, one of the
visitors is your daughter.” Telara blinked. “Are you certain of this?” she asked.
“If you are lying to me…” “No!” the girl said hurriedly. “It
is her. I am certain.” Sarya looked at her friend. “If it is her, we should go. It is,
after all, your daughter.” Telara slowly nodded. “You are right, as usual,” she
murmured. Then, she turned to the girl. “Tell the guards to bring the visitors
to the command tent. Take whatever weapons they have, just to ensure that they
do no harm.” Camp
Outskirts “I don’t care what you say,” Carsten
protested. “I’ll give you the knives and the axe. But I’m not handing the sword
over.” “Our orders are quite specific,” the
Huntress said. “We are to take all weapons and bring you to the command tent.” Carsten
sighed and unbuckled the sword from his belt. “Fine,” he muttered. “Take it. But
you had best give it back.” The Huntress nodded to one of her nearby subordinates,
who took the weapon. Arcaena handed over her bow, arrows, and knives, while
Thomas gave them his axe and Edessa her spear. Since Rolf and Mycal had no
weapons, they had nothing to give, though the Huntresses searched them quite
thoroughly anyway. After they were satisfied that they had taken all their
weapons, the Huntresses led them through the center of the camp, toward a
larger-than-usual hide tent almost in the center of the camp. “Is that the command tent?” Arcaena
asked. “It looks rather…small.” “It is,” the Huntress answered. “And
the size was dependent on available materials. We would have done better with
more on hand.” The dark elf nodded. “Of course. Work with what you have.”
The Huntress nodded. “Exactly.” She pointed to the
command tent. “If you would be so kind as to go inside, Telara is waiting.”
Arcaena nodded, and she was about to step through the flap when Edessa stopped
her. “You know,” she said, “it might be
best if you let me go first. To smooth things over and all.” The dark elf took
a step backward and nodded. “Probably for the best,” she agreed.
“Well, go on.” Edessa nodded and took a dep breath. The last time she had seen
her mother, Telara had almost put a sword through her daughter’s head. It had
been accidental, of course; she had only meant to strike her daughter’s hand. Still,
best to be cautious. Command
tent The tent was not much more
impressive on the inside that it was on the outside. There were only three
chairs within, and two were occupied. Telara sat in one, behind a large wooden
table. She was not breathtaking to look at; she may have been stunning once,
and she still maintained a level of attractiveness. Her silver hair was tightly
braided behind her, and her green eyes had a cool, intelligent light behind
them. The other woman in the room was tall, and her posture indicated that she had
at least a little bit of noble blood in her. Her hair was black, with several
strands of grey mixed in. Her eyes were a strange shade of blue, an almost violet
color that seemed strangely familiar. The Huntress leader looked up as her
daughter and the others entered. Edessa took a seat I the chair, and Rolf and
Mycal slid to the ground on the edges of the tent. Arcaena sat beside Edessa on
the dirt floor, while Carsten and Thomas remained standing. Thomas moved closer
to the center of the room, but his red-haired companion remained on the edge,
his arms tightly folded across his chest. Upon her daughter’s entry, Telara
looked up and nodded. “You look well,” she said simply. Carsten
nearly started at that, but Edessa seemed unperturbed. “Thank you, mother. Now, could you
please explain to me why you brought our people here?” Telara nodded. “Of course, my
daughter. We heard that there was unrest here, and we came to see whether or
not it was true. And then I received word of your disappearance, which made me
all the more interested in these vagabonds.” Edessa raised an eyebrow. “Then you
attacked the raiders? They have been destroyed?” Telara shook her head. “We did it to as many as we could.
But there are many, and they are stronger than we anticipated. Even if we
wanted to fight these fools, we cannot do so without more weapons and troops.
Sixty of us might be formidable enough to take on small armies, but we have no
prayer against creatures of this magnitude.” “Then you would retreat now that you
have found me?” she pressed. Telara nodded. “Our business here is concluded,”
she said. “However, there is another matter that I have to take up with these
Outlanders. I met Oriem Blackfire and several of his Airknights on this
journey, and he informed me that several people are missing, including his
daughter. I see, however, that you managed to find Thomas. And, based on the
clan markings, I would be willing to wager that your dark elven friend would
happen to be Oriem’s child.” At this point in the conversation, Sarya got up
and went out of the tent, a development that seemed to go unnoticed by all
except Arcaena. She got up and followed the Huntress. Carsten caught her arm as
she was about to walk out. “What are you doing?” He whispered.
Arcaena watched her go momentarily before she turned to face him. “I know her,” she answered. “I have
no idea how, but I have seen that woman before.” Edessa nodded. “Indeed. But you
mentioned several people. Who are the other ones that are missing?” “Olaf Stormhammer is one,” she said.
“He and his band of Shatterhand warriors have not been seen for a good long
while. Sigurd the Grim’s son is another, though, in truth, I would not be
terribly upset if he were to remain lost. And then there are the rest of you.” “I would not speak so of his son,”
Carsten put in. “He is not so terrible.” ‘And how would you know?” Telara
said, turning. “What…?” Carsten reached inside his collar and pulled out his
medallion. “Call it an educated guess,” he
replied. Telara’s cool veneer dropped momentarily, and her eyes wide with
surprise. “You-you-I see,” she said, finally
regaining her composure. “You were there with my daughter. Tell me, why would
she work with you?” “Because he saved all of our lives,”
Edessa answered. “He helped us escape Frostspire Castle, and he has helped
us-me-every step of the way. In the interest of full disclosure, I think that
we would all be dead if it were not for him.” Telara raised an eyebrow. “High
praise, boy, especially coming from my daughter. Tell me, does she speak the
truth?” Carsten lowered his eyes. He had no idea whether or not such a thing
was actually the truth, nor did he really want the question answered. “I cannot speak to the certainty of
that,” he said. “And that would also depend on how you define save.” The
Huntress turned to the others. “Does she tell me the whole of
affairs?” she asked. Rolf nodded. “He was instrumental,” he replied. “Other
than that, I cannot say.” Thomas shrugged. “He did save lives.
I do not think that there is a higher measure of a man.” She nodded. “I can understand that,” she told
them. “And as much as I would like to believe you…” the knife was in her hand
before any of them could do a thing, and she surged to her feet and whipped the
blade at him as hard as she could. They all stared in horror, expecting a solid
smack, but it never came. Instead, Carsten’s left hand snapped up and caught
the weapon pommel first, an inch from his chest. She stared in shock at the
suspended blade, while the dwarf looked back at her with a mixture of
nonchalance and contempt. “In all seriousness,” he said. “I
think that may have been a poor decision. Even if we chose to have this fight
now, do you really think you can beat me? You might have troops around you, but
they would have to be alerted.” He reversed his grip on the knife and tossed it
back to her. “If I wanted to, I could probably have already killed you and your
daughter. Consider this, and me giving you my family’s sword in a show of
faith, as good of proof as any that I don’t actually feel like murdering either
of you. That maybe, just maybe, someone finally wanted to let the old grudges
die with their bearers. I had kind of hoped you might feel the same,” he added,
a disappointed note entering his voice. Though perhaps there was more sarcasm
in that than he let on. Telara snapped the weapon back into its sheath, a
surprised look on her face. “I…” he shook his head. “Don’t bother,” he responded. “Nothing
you can say matters, Telara. We both know you’d be lying anyway to say you didn’t
mean it. You have what you want. Take the dwarf and your daughter and go. Just
go.” At this point, Thomas turned to face Carsten, his eyes blazing. His hands
were clenched into fists, and he looked for all the world like an enraged
giant. “What makes you think you speak for
me?” He challenged. “In all honesty, I would rather go with you than her.” The
Huntress stared at him. A Greencap wanting to work with a Brownbeard alone was
strange, let alone the two heirs working together. Maybe this boy was more than
met the eye after all. “Are you…” “Positive,” he replied simply. “You
heard the boy. Take the girl and go.” And, one by one, they left the tent. Huntress
camp Sarya’s tent Sarya sat on the
muddy ground, checking her arrows one by one. This was not so formal; after
all, the poison she used dried out easily, and this meant that she had to
refresh it every so often. This process was long and tenuous, so she only did
it whenever she anticipated a long period where she was not being disturbed, such
as now. She was startled out of her reverie by the sound of a gasp from the front
of her tent. She turned to see the dark elf that had been sitting beside Edessa
in the tent. “Can I help you?” she asked. “Are
you looking for someone?” “I was,” she whispered. “And I found
her.” Sarya blinked. “Excuse me, do I know
you?” Arcaena sighed. “I had hoped you might recognize me.
I saw you, even under all those scars. I am happy that I have found you at
last. After all, family never leaves.” “What…” Sarya’s heart dropped into
her feet as she suddenly remembered the last time she had heard those words.
Her hands went to her ears, massaging the reddened scar tissue. “Is it really
you? After all this time?” Arcaena nodded, tears slipping down her cheeks. “It is you, isn’t it, Mother?” she
asked. Saray lowered her eyes and whispered the word that Arcaena had both
wanted and dreaded to hear.
“Yes,” She replied. © 2016 JakeAuthor's Note
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StatsAuthorJakeAboutStudent, writer, LEGO fan. I love fantasy and science fiction, and my background as a history student has led me to experiment with some historical fiction as well. more..Writing
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