Search and Rescue

Snoe senses her sister Amala is in trouble, which leads to a search for the young woman.

31.

Search and Rescue

 

“Something is wrong.” Snoe told her husband and those around him.

“What?   What’s wrong?”  Aedric asked, alarmed at the strange look in his new wife’s eyes.   She seemed almost to be looking at something far away as she sat rigidly upright in the saddle, her red eyes wide and unblinking, even though the afternoon sunlight off the snow was blinding even to the non-Drow in the party.

“It’s Amala,” She said distantly, “Something has happened to her… up ahead, off the road.”

 

No-one asked her how she knew, but immediately they spurred their horses forward into a gallop, letting the albino Queen lead them like a bloodhound.  They left the huge Bugbear with the wagon on the road at the edge of the forest, for Carn was too large to ride a horse into the narrow pathway between trees.

 

Amala had left them nearly half an hour ago, Aedric estimated, and to give her time, they had more-or-less stopped on the road so they wouldn’t pass her.    She had been out of view and none of the rest of the group had heard anything from ahead that would have indicated she faced trouble.

 

But from Snoe’s mysterious expression and the certainty in her voice, they knew that something had happened that Snoe had sensed.

 

The snow hampered their rush forward, but it was simple to follow Amala’s horse’s tracks.   A few minutes later they noted how it diverted suddenly into the Faesidhe forest, following a faint trail.   To non-Faesidhe, it would appear to be a deer path.   But Aedric knew it to be what they called a ‘Waypath’ - a narrow path through the forest that would connect to places to rest, usually near water.

 

He also knew that most Waypaths on the edge of the forests were monitored from the Faesidhe’s well concealed ‘Treetop bridges’.   They were a series of rope bridges built very high in the tree canopy, going from tree to tree, usually following the edge of the forest so that Faesidhe Rangers could watch and even follow those roaming near their borders.

 

He could not see the bridges - even with the autumn shedding of leaves- but he now was quite certain that there was one following the tree border of the Faesidhe forest and mirroring the road.

Hopefully they were not manned by any of the Faesidhe who had resisted Westmark’s occupation of their kingdom.

 

Aedric knew, however, that this was likely, as he’d heard rumors that the rebellious Faesidhe had withdrawn to the northwestern part of the forest, which was less travelled and much wilder then the eastern, southern and central parts, where most of the race lived.

 

Snoe seemed almost panicked as they began down the Waypath, and he knew that it wasn’t out of fear from rebel Faesidhe, for he had not spoken to her, nor any of them about it.   Instead, she seemed to sense that something had befallen her sister in the forest.

 

She didn’t speak, but was trembling as they came upon a spring pool that gave off steam as the warm water contacted the chilly air.   It was evident to all of them that a struggle had recently occurred around the pool.   There were a jumble of footprints and several arrows sticking into the ground, as if they had been fired from overhead.

 

But more disturbing was a bright red pool of blood in the snow.    Someone had been injured there, and, it appeared, covered with something, dragged a short distance, then… the drag marks ended, perhaps due to someone picking that person up.

 

“There is only one pair of horse tracks here.” Mattleos told them as they examined the scene.    They all knew what that meant - whoever had left by horseback had been riding Amala’s horse.

“She may have chased after who attacked her.”   Aedric suggested gently to his wife as she crouched in the snow, staring wide-eyed at the puddle of blood.

“She was taken…” Snoe whispered, “But she’s not dead…”

“Can you tell us where she was taken?”  Aedric asked her.

“Into the forest… I don’t know anything more.   We’ve got to rescue her!”

“Of course, sweetheart.” He glanced upward into the canopy of the trees, but could see nothing.   Hopefully they weren’t watching them, waiting for them to head on into the woods.    The tree-top bridges did not go into the forest, but ran across the edges of the forest, so if they could get out of bowshot of the edge of the forest, they should be alright.

“What is it?”   Snoe asked him, when she noticed his scanning of the treetops, “Are we being watched?”

“Possibly - it is what concerns me most.   They probably have archers up there that will wait until we get in the open before they shoot at us.”

“Faesidhe?”

“Yes; those not loyal to your father.   Rebels.”

“Do you think they took Amala?”

“Yes; probably for some sort of diplomatic ransom or something.”

“Then we’ve got to rescue her!   Where will they take her?”

“I don’t know for sure.   Probably to one of their hide-outs.”

“But there is just one set of hoof-prints, so there would just be one taking her away.”

“Yes, it looks that way, but they may have others waiting down the road.”

“Then the quicker we move, the better!”

 

He had to agree with her logic and Aedric turned to the others who all had heard their conversation.   They nodded in agreement.

“Keep low in the saddle”  Aedric warned, “If they are up there in the treetops, they’ll fire at us when we are clear enough while riding down the path.”

“I may have something to help us.” Allea whispered to them with a slight smile that failed to reveal what she had in mind.

 

***

 

Minutes later, high above them along the tree-top bridge, the Faesidhe archers waited anxiously for the group below to move out into the open to strike.   They considered firing down upon them as they had on the Drow woman, but there were more of them now and some could be spell casters that could be deadly at close range.

 

So they waited impatiently.   Their ears picked up the soft chanting of a spell and just as they were about to decide to launch arrows down upon them anyway, suddenly a huge cloud of black smoke began billowing up from below, filling the air with the smell of burning wood.

 

“They’ve set the tree on fire!” One of the archers shouted, and quickly the archers began moving along the bridge to get away from the burning tree and smoke.

 

But as they fled, the sounds of hoofs hurrying down the narrow road filled the air.   They quickly tried to sight them from their new positions, but the smoke blocked the ground below.   A few fired arrows off in frustration, shooting blindly in the smoke, but they hit nothing.

 

As the hoofs faded away, out of bowshot due to the trees, they noticed that the black smoke seemed to be dissipating.

“A spell, I’d say!”   One of them said in frustration over losing them.

 

***

Below and a distance away, Allea smiled in satisfaction over the success of the spell.   It had been one taught to her by her mother, a simple smoke spell that was good for signaling others distances away, or  -as in this case- concealment.   Her companions gave her approving grins as they hurried down the narrow forest path in the snow.

Now if they could just sustain their luck and find Amala before it was too late.   Allea leaned over the neck of her horse and focused on the hoof tracks ahead of them, praying to Yesh that they wouldn’t be too late.

 

***

 

A few miles ahead of the party, Amala was in agony.   Tied up in the net on the back of her own horse, her arms were pinned to her side and she feared moving much or she’d alert him that she was alive.

 

So though she was extremely cold and her joints and muscles ached from their bound position, she worked on trying to stretch her hand and wrist to reach a small knife that she wore on her sword belt for repairs and such things.

 

For over an hour she worked to get the knife firmly in her grasp, almost losing it several times as her horse and her abductor jumped over a tree limb in the path.

 

But finally she managed to get a grasp on the knife and she began to saw blindly at the net or rope nearest her hand, hoping that by cutting through it she might have free use of her arm.

 

The bond was thick and a long time passed before her work met with success.   Suddenly the cord broke free and to her horror she was sliding off the back of the horse.   She had cut the rope binding her to her steed.

She fell hard into the (thankfully) adequately deep snow and she laid there franticly trying to free herself, for she knew the Faesidhe Elf riding her horse would turn and learn that she was still alive.

 

But to her amazement, he continued on the path, having not felt the movement behind him.   Perhaps the horse slipped at that same moment or something that masked her fall, but he continued at a quick pace to the east.

 

For a long moment she laid there in the cold snow, just in case he was looking back.   Finally the hoof beats faded from hearing and she again tried to move.

 

The jolt of the fall had loosened up the net enough for her to be able to grab a section of it in her hands.   Normally she wouldn’t have been strong enough by far to pull the net open, but her magic gauntlets gave her the strength of an Ogre and so after a few moments of intense pulling, the net ripped open enough for her to wiggle out.

 

She rose on very stiff feet after her confinement of several hours, and Amala quickly took inventory of her weapons, glancing up the road in the direction that the Faesidhe rebel had gone.

 

Surely he would soon realize that she was no longer strapped behind his saddle.   She didn’t want to be out in the middle of the path when he returned, so she thought it would be best to go off the path to let the trees offer her a degree of concealment.

 

The forest was very old and felt very wild and alive, even in the early part of winter with snow on the ground.   She had never been this deep into the Faesidhe forest before, but she figured that if she followed the path in the direction she had come from, she would find her way back to the northern edge of it.

 

Amala stayed within 40 feet of the path, so she could see who rode by, but far enough away so she would be able to react quickly if the Faesidhe rebels began to look for her.

 

Her party wouldn’t have time to spare to go looking for her, and they had ridden several hours into the forest, so she would probably be too late by the time she reached the others.

 

Somehow she sensed they’d come looking for her, despite the time frame, so that kept her moving forward through the thick underbrush, following the outline of the road wherever it went.

 

It almost felt to her as if the underbrush was pulling at her, as if it wanted her to stop trying to stay independent from it and instead simply lie down, and accept defeat.

 

A creepy feeling of being watched filled her as she slowly pushed her way through the underbrush and it grew by each passing moment.   She pulled her swords free to relieve some of her unease, but still it remained, filling her with great nervousness and anxiety.

Gradually she became aware that there was next to no noise from all around her.   Only her footsteps in the snow and her breathing were all she could hear and this did not still her unease.

 

She focused on just pushing through the brambles and dead wood, but after a long time she looked up to see how far away from the ‘road’ she was, and to her alarm, she found that the narrow path through the woods that the Faesidhe considered a road was no longer in sight.

 

As she glanced around, trying to get her bearings, out of nowhere a low branch swung violently around and hit her in the face, knocking her down.

Before the stunned girl could react, branches or perhaps roots began grabbing at her ankles and arms.

She jerked her arms free and swung her swords with lightning quick speed.

Two mighty chops freed her legs and she jumped to her feet, just in time to duck under the animated swings of the tree’s branches that had hit her moments before.

Amala had no idea what was happening, but quickly backed away from the tree, wondering what enchantment could be upon it to make it attack her.

 

To her horror, a tree behind her suddenly wrapped smaller branches around her as if they were a squid’s tentacles.   She fought it off, but from all sides now the trees were reaching and grabbing at her.   Roots twisted around her ankles and limbs whipped around trying to disarm her.

 

The girl frantically swung her swords, desperately looking for an open space, away from the trees, to escape to, but there were none close to her.

 

For a few minutes she held her own against the animated foliage, but finally they managed to trip her and rip the swords from her grasp.

 

Oddly the trees that pulled her swords from her did not drop them but it seemed as if they handed them from tree to tree until they disappeared from her sight.

She debated screaming in hopes that someone or something sympathetic to her plight would come to her aid, but she also knew that it could draw in something worse, so she just quietly struggled against the tree limbs until she was completely subdued.

 

But then, like her swords, the tree that bound her swung her body up and over until it was overlapping the branches of a neighboring tree, which then released her to it’s grasp, before moving around to hand her off again, moments later, to a third tree.   It was like villagers forming a bucket line near the town well, and then passing buckets of water down the line to the source of the fire.

 

She was the ‘bucket’ in this case, and what (or who) ‘the fire’ was, worried her.   Obviously they were bringing her to whoever controlled the trees.   Some Faesidhe Wizard maybe?   She had plenty of time to consider this as she was handed off from tree to tree, with surprising gentleness, yet with extremely firm grips on her, to keep her from attempting  escape.

 

Though their animated movement seemed very slow, she actually moved from tree to tree rather fast.   She could not pull free, even with her magic gauntlets, so finally resigned herself to save her strength.

 

After a frustratingly long time, suddenly she was placed down on the ground in front of a huge, gnarled old Oak tree that stood by itself in a small clearing.   Amala sensed the age and faeness of the place as soon as her feet touched the ground.   There was no snow in the clearing at all, and the moss that encircled the tree was a brilliant green as if it were the height of spring.

 

She got to her feet, certain she would immediately meet the master of the trees and she was not disappointed.

 

From out of a large gap in the ancient tree came a woman.   She wore a green dress that seemed to shimmer almost as if it was covered by tiny crystals of ice that reflected the light.   She was regal in appearance, tall and very, very pale, with long light blonde hair and eyes that at one moment seemed deep green, but in another moment more of a bluish tint.

 

She appeared to be an Elven lady; perhaps Faesidhe, but Amala sensed something else.   It was something Fae, something very ancient and powerful.   She smiled as she leisurely came toward her, but Amala reached for her swords, only to remember that they were gone.

“What are you?”   Amala asked, taking a step back.

 

“What are you?” The lady seemed to mimic, but then continued, “You are covered with your own blood, Amala.    You are dressed all in chainmail and leather; you trust in your incredible swordsmanship. Your are fearful of friendships, over-protective of your family, and terrified of your own femininity.”

 

Amala unconsciously began stepping backwards, but though she was free of the tree branches that bound her; she found that her feet could just barely move.   Wide-eyed in fear, she watched as the strange lady drew close to her.

“Who are you?”  She asked the lady.

“Who are you?  Do you know yourself, Amala?   Are you ready to complete this quest you are on?  You have no idea of the danger that you and your group face.”

“How do you know about this?   What do you want from me?”

 

Suddenly the lady was behind her, touching her hair, and Amala found that at her touch, she was paralyzed.

“Such lovely hair - yet you wear it like a man.   It should flow long down your back, as your sisters and mother wear their hair.  You fear who you truly are, Amala.”

 

Amala felt something moving and flowing all around her head, but she could not react, could not see what it was, or even speak.

 

“You do not know of Helios, young lady.    None of your group knows of him or of his might.   All of you would die in your attempt to access his tower.   But I know of him and have waited for this event to occur for centuries.   He is an ancient adversary of mine.    Therefore I am going to go in your place.”

The lady gently spun her around and to Amala’s shock, she was now staring at her mirror image.    Her own red eyes gleamed at her - though her double was not covered in dried blood.   She even wore the exact same armor and clothing that she wore.

 

Amala wanted to speak, but the lady kept her silent and simply smiled gently at her, “Do not panic, child, for I shall not harm you.    Though I do hope that much of your old life will die as a result of what I am going to do… for the both of us.    Goodbye, Amala.    Sleep.”

 

At her final word, Amala felt an incredible exhaustion come over her and she slowly sank down onto the ground and fell into a deep slumber.

 

The lady looked down at her with a serene smile and walked over to a nearby tree that held both of Amala’s swords still in their branches.    Holding out her hands, the tree branches uncurled and the swords dropped into the lady’s hands.   She frowned as she looked at the weapons, but sheathed them in scabbards that were the exact same as the swords’ own, then with a glance at the sleeping girl and her tree, she began walking westward down the road.

 

 

Reviews

[Elina]

"...they did not doubt that something had happened that somehow Amala’s younger sister had sensed." This sounded a bit awkward to me.
"A creepy, being-watched feeling filled her..." Maybe instead, "A creepy feeling of being watched filled her..."
"...to keep her from attempting to escape." You can probably leave out the second "to."

This was incredible! I cannot wait to find out what will be happening...

[Eddie Davis]

Thanks, Elina