Rendezvous

Aedric and Snoe's party rushes to find Amala.

32.

Rendezvous

 

They rushed down the narrow Waypath at somewhat dangerous speed, ducking the branches as best they could.   Aedric was concerned with many things as they galloped forward deeper into the Faesidhe forest.

 

First, of course, was that they would be ambushed by the rebel Faesidhe Elves, or else one of their number break his or her neck upon contact with a low slung branch as they rode maddeningly fast.

 

Second, that Amala might not be found, or could have been killed.   The Drow girl was an incredible swordswoman, but Aedric knew that the Faesidhe often did not fight fairly.

 

Third, that Carn, alone on the road in the wagon might be attacked by either the Faesidhe or else by someone travelling on the road that assumed he was there to cause trouble.

 

Lastly, Aedric worried that this delay might mess up the timing of the plans of both quests and could be very deadly to everyone.

 

Snoe seemed consumed with locating her sister, and rode without noticing the danger of the low hanging branches, staring straight ahead anxiously.

 

Aedric was debating how to convince his new wife to slow down and perhaps rethink their breakneck race into the forest, when suddenly a figure on the path directly in front of them caused all of them to draw up to an abrupt stop.

 

Standing before them was Amala, smiling a rather amused grin at their surprise.

“Amala!”  Snoe said, “Thank Yesh!   Are you alright?   What happened to you?”

 

The Drow lady recounted the tale of an attempted ambush, where she chased her pursuers into the forest and a brief battle with one Faesidhe elf, who unhorsed her and got away.

 

Snoe looked alarmed, “Then where is your horse?”

“I haven’t found it yet.”

 

Snoe’s brow wrinkled slightly.   ‘It’, she had said, not ‘him’.   Amala shared her sisters’ fondness of horses.

 

“Are you sure you are alright?”   Snoe again asked, dismounting as her sister walked to her.

“I’m fine, dear sister, fine.    I took a nasty fall and it jarred me up.    I’ve been walking for a long time, hoping I can find hoof prints.   I don’t want him lost in this horrid forest!”

Snoe nodded, but still she sensed something wasn’t quite right with Amala.    She wasn’t alone in the feeling, for all the others who knew her shared the uneasiness.   Even Aedric sensed some sort of change come over the girl.   Something subtle, but she was different… somehow.

 

As if she could read his doubts about her, Amala suddenly looked up at him and gave a wry smile, “Thanks for coming along, Prince Aedric!”

“Prince?”  Snoe commented, “He’s not just a Prince anymore, Amala.”

For a heartbeat, the girl looked surprised and perhaps even a bit frightened, but only for a moment.   She sighed, touching her head, “Sorry, Your Majesty.   Or should I say, Majesties.    As I said, I took a rough fall.   I’m not thinking straight.   In fact, I’m not exactly seeing straight either…”   She swayed a bit as if dizzy and Snoe grabbed her arm.

“Amala?   Here, sit down on this log.”   Snoe looked up at her husband and he immediately dismounted.   A moment later the girl was surrounded by the concerned members of her quest group.   Mattleos knelt in front of her, examining her forehead.

 

Though they had not noticed it when she approached them, there was a large swollen knot on her temple.   She yelped slightly when the Elven Lord touched it.

“That smarts!”

“It is a nasty bump, Lady Amala.   But I imagine it is nothing that a Paladin could not heal.”

 

Amala smiled and though Aedric was reaching out to lay hands on her, she quickly turned to Gamel, “I’ll give you the honors, dear brother.”

“Oh… alright.” With a shrug at Aedric, he placed his hands upon his sister and said, “By Yesh, be healed.”

 

The Drow Paladin looked alarmed when the familiar blue glow failed to briefly cover her head and his hands, but Amala sighed contently and felt her forehead.    The bump was completely gone.

“Thank you!” She leaned in and kissed his cheek, “How wonderful to have a company of Paladins to ride with.”

“We’ve got to figure out what we need to do, Amala.” He told her, “You’ll need a horse.”

“Not if I ride with you.”

“With me?”

“Surely you don’t mind your own sister riding with you?”  She gave him a look that made Gamel very uneasy.   It was almost as if she was flirting with him.

“Well, you may still be rattled, so I guess you’d best ride with one of us.   What about searching for your horse?”

“I’d love to find him, but we dare not delay this quest any further.   The Faesidhe will not harm him.   They love horses.”

“You’re going to just leave him?”   Snoe asked, incredulously.

 

Amala shrugged, “What choice do we have?   I’ve been searching for over an hour and have not found any trace of him.    Trust in Yesh, dear sister.”

 

From behind the others, Mutt rode forward and bowed slightly, “Lady Amala, you can have my horse.   I can ride with Gamel or Aaron until we rejoin Carn, then I’ll just ride on the wagon with him.”

 

Amala looked at the goblin with a surprising look of slight disgust at him, though she had always seemed rather fond of him.    The look only lasted for a moment, then she smiled, somewhat weakly, “That’s very kind of you, Mutt, but there is no need.   I’ll just ride with my brother.   He’s required to give aid to all damsels in distress… and that includes sisters.”

 

They all laughed a bit nervously, for she certainly didn’t sound like herself right then.   Before any of them could say anything else, Amala had gracefully mounted Gamel’s horse and gestured for Gamel to join her.

 

The Drow Paladin looked plaintively at Aedric, Snoe and the others, but took his place behind her.   With a satisfied grin, Amala suggested to the others that they should remount and head back out of the forest.

As they rode, Snoe caught her husband’s eye and he nodded at her glance, wondering the same thing.

 

***

 

Several miles away, Carn sat huddled down, trying to keep as low-key as was possible for him,  while he nervously waited for the others to return.   Obviously there was something wrong.   Perhaps the Faesidhe had ambushed them.   Then what would he do?   He wasn’t exactly made for stealth and a Bugbear in the Faesidhe forest would not last much longer than a snowflake in high summer.

 

But he also felt like a hay bale archery target, sitting out in the middle of the road within bowshots of the forest.   What should he do?   That seemed to always be the same question he faced.   At King Travin’s funeral he had stuck out like a sore thumb and everyone kept staring at him.   Of course he had been the only Bugbear at the funeral.   At Snoe and Aedric’s wedding, he had purposely stayed away so as to not ruin their special day.   

He’d stood outside in the snow with several others and tried to imagine the ceremony in the beautiful Sylvan chapel.  

Of course they would have welcomed him to attend, but he was conscious of his ugly brutishness and did not want to ruin happy times for those he considered his friends.   He had even stayed away from the wedding banquet, once again staying out in the snow for much of the evening to prevent his ugliness from ruining something joyous.

Now he didn’t know what to do again.   Should he go into the forest looking for them, and taking his life into his hands, or ride quickly back to Tarmard?    He was still debating his dilemma when his sensitive ears heard the sound of a number of hoofs thundering up the road behind him.

 

Perhaps it was someone from Tarmard that could assist in his decision.    But before he could even turn around and look, suddenly a score of horsemen were surrounding the front of the wagon where he sat, each horseman aiming notched arrows at his head.

 

“Oh no.” He said, looking directly at one Faesidhe Elf who wore an ornately carved silver helm and seemed to be the leader.

 

“I can’t imagine what a Bugbear would be doing sitting in a Sylvan Elf wagon in the middle of the road between the Kingdom of Tarmard and the Faesidhe forest.   Either he is extremely stupid, or else he has a reason that he shall share with me if he wishes to live long.”

 

Carn nodded, “I am Carn, a servant of Duke Dullerm.   I travel with the King of the Sylvan Elves and three of Duke Dullerm’s children.”

“Then where are they, Bugbear?”

 

Carn explained the situation to the captain, hoping that he found it less ridiculous sounding then he did in telling it.   The Captain removed his helm and rubbed his eyes.

“What did you say your name was, Bugbear?”

“Carn.   Duke Dullerm’s son Gamel, and his daughters, Snoe and Amala travel with us.”

 

The Faesidhe Elf nodded, “I believe you, Bugbear.   That may amaze you, but believe it or not, you are most fortunate to have met me and not the rebels that lurk on the treetop bridges.   I am Linel Demmet, son of Governor Wellon Demmet, and we are loyal liegemen of Duke Dullerm.”

Carn sighed deeply in relief, “I am very glad to hear that, Captain.”

 

Linel motioned to his men and they lowered their bows.

“So, Carn, what would be the most helpful to you right now?”  Captain Demmet asked.

“Well, finding the others, I would imagine.   But I really don’t fancy getting ambushed going into the forest.”

 

Linel smiled, “We have safe shortcuts we could take you on.”

Carn looked down at himself, “I’m too big to ride a horse, sir.”

 

The Elf laughed, “We don’t use Waypaths like the rebels, Carn.   We have actual roads - level and large enough for this wagon.   I think we can intercept them if they’ve went into the forest after Lady Amala.   The rebels are rather predictable in their actions.    I think I know where they’d take her.   They’d want her as either a hostage or a trophy if she is dead… not that I think she is dead, of course!”

 

The possibility of this, however, convinced Carn to trust the Elves and join them.    A few minutes later the wagon, escorted by the troop of horsemen, thundered back up the road to the East.

 After about a mile, they turned off the road and Carn was led into what looked from the road to just be a slight gap in the line of trees.   Yet it was revealed to be a cleverly disguised entrance to a wide Faesidhe road.

 

Carn just prayed they would be able to rendezvous with his friends and hopefully with a rescued -and living- Amala.

 

 

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[Elina]

"First of course was that they would be ambushed..." This needs commas "First, of course, was..."