A Story Of River (16 page)

At dawn the company once again mounted
their horses and proceeded hastily to the Forests of Viera. Mel's heart was
still burdened, but the dryad's gift had filled him with hope. Each step
brought him closer to his homeland and saving the lives of his kin.

As they pressed onward through the heat of
the day, Mel projected energy to invigorate the horses and give them the
stamina to continue. Though domesticated, their ancestors had roamed freely
through the Wildlands. He tapped into the untamed spirit that still dwelt deep
inside the noble creatures.

At mid-day the sun's heat was oppressive.
The company was forced to stop for fear of overheating the horses. River
produced another fountain to provide drink, and lifting his face towards the
sky, he called down a gentle mist to cool his companions. It felt as soft and
cool as the rain in the Vale. It was a very welcome relief for the weary
travelers.

The following morning offered much-needed
relief in the form of cloud cover. The sun's rays were blocked, and the riders
continued more comfortably than they dared hope. Mel's village lay just ahead.
As they approached, cries could be heard in the distance, and smoke was rising
over the tree line.

The Westerling Elf troop headed to the
front and took on a charge formation. Isandra led the way as they galloped into
the village. Two sorcerers mounted atop wildcats commanded more than thirty
wolfbeasts and at least twenty spiders. Elves were running through the village
to get to their weapons. A few of them were already fighting, and those who could
not fight were fleeing in a panic.

Isandra's troops made short work of four
wolfbeasts as they rode over them, crushing them beneath their horses. Still
mounted, she swung her sword at an attacking spider and quickly realized it was
armored. Her sword could not penetrate its tough flesh. She drew a small,
pointed dagger and hopped down off her horse. Instantly, the spider grabbed her
and flung her on her back. Its massive pincers snapped wildly as she grabbed
them with her hands. Drawing her legs up, she kicked the spider solidly in the
abdomen. It bowled over, and she sprang on it, stabbing deep into an eye. It
hissed with pain as she proceeded to stab a second eye, this time leaning her
full weight against the dagger. Finally, the spider stopped moving, and its
legs curled inward.

“Are you alright?” one of her troops
called to her.

“I'm fine,” she replied, “but I could use
a longer dagger.”

River had ridden further into the village
where a group of children and elderly had sought refuge from the sorcerers'
fireballs. They were huddled behind a group of huts that had not yet been
touched by the flames. Spreading his arms out before him, he raised a shield
wall of water to protect the frightened elves. The children were hypnotized by
the shimmering blue water, and their fears were quelled.

Upon seeing the shield wall, both
sorcerers decided to take on the challenge. They focused their energy toward
River and sent out blasts of lightning in his direction. The light hit the
shield wall and was consumed by it. The shield glowed brighter, invigorated by
the infusion of magic. Dismayed, the sorcerers unleashed a second energy blast
at the shield. Again, the shield drank their magic and strengthened itself.

A spider was commanded to attack the shield
and scurried quickly toward River. As soon as it reached the wall, its black
skin began to melt. Within seconds, it was only a small black puddle that was
quickly lapped up by the shield wall.

River stood steadfast with all of his
concentration focused on the shield protecting the villagers. One of the
sorcerers charged at the wall. He conjured a shield bubble of his own in an
attempt to protect himself from the water. Drawing his staff, he pointed it at
the wall and unleashed a magical blast. The force knocked him from his mount,
and he struck the ground roughly. A volley of arrows from the trees finished
him off before he could regain his footing.

Aelryk fought alongside Morek and Mi'tal. With
their backs together they were able to slash through the ranks of the savage
beasts as they approached from all sides. The elves once again reformed the
line and charged toward the monsters. The trio dodged expertly to the side,
allowing the charge to hit its mark. Wolfbeasts lay bruised and broken on the
ground. They had grown much tougher and more resilient since their last
encounter with them. Many of them survived the charge but were badly wounded.
With a nod of gratitude to his elven comrades, Aelryk began slicing off heads
to ensure the wounded beasts would not recover.

Mel had taken to the trees and was firing
arrows at the eyes of the spiders. They were very small targets, and the
spiders were in constant motion. Some of his clansmen had taken to the
surrounding trees which made it possible to attack them from different angles.
Together they brought down the majority of the spiders. Those whose eyes they
could not hit were driven by volleys of arrows into River's shield wall. Before
long, the spiders were no more.

The monsters having been dealt with, River
released the shield wall and threw it around the remaining sorcerer. He wanted
to speak with him and find out who was behind the attack. His mount reared,
throwing the sorcerer to the ground. In a panic, it began running in circles.
The elves stayed their arrows as Mel descended from the trees and cautiously
approached the animal. He extended a hand towards it, and the cat backed away
slowly. A flash of green from Mel's eyes released the wildcat from its spell of
bondage, and it
bounded
away into the forest. It
looked back at him and lowered its head in gratitude.

River, Aelryk, and Mel approached the
trapped sorcerer where he still lay on the forest floor. “Who sent you here?”
River asked.

The Soulbinder only shook his head,
refusing to speak to them.

“Remove the shield and I'll beat it out of
him,” Mel said.

River reached his hands through the shield
and placed them on each side of the sorcerer's head. The Soulbinder's eyes went
wide, and his neck muscles tensed. Closing his eyes, River began to speak.
“Master Ulda of Ral'nassa has taken over the kingdom of Al'marr and is using
human souls to power his enchantments and create these beasts. They were here
hoping to trap elven souls to power even stronger enchantments. Soon, Ulda
plans to invade Na'zora and take it for himself. He also plans to attempt
binding the essence of the water elemental that has allied itself with the
Na'zoran king. That is all he knows.”

River removed his hands from the sorcerer
and dropped the shield wall. Without a word, Mel drew one of his knives and cut
the Soulbinder's throat. Turning, he looked upon the destruction of his
village. Many huts had been burned, and the bodies of elves lay dead on the
soft grass.

Willdor began gathering the wounded
together to better assess who was in most urgent need of treatment. “Where is
your village healer?” he asked one of the wounded elves.

“He is dead,” the woman replied. “He was
the first to fall.”

Mel remembered the words of the cypress
dryad. He closed his eyes and projected all of his energy to summoning the
dryads of Viera. Though he had never seen them, he knew they were near. His
focus began to wander, and he clutched the small pouch containing the heartwood
in his right hand. His resolve strengthening, he reached deep within himself
and called out with his heart.

Gasps came from the stunned villagers as
four silver-skinned dryads emerged from the forest. Each was carrying a wooden
platter filled with medicinal herbs. They walked gracefully into the village
and began to tend to the wounded elves. Willdor stood a moment enraptured by
their beauty but finally managed to regain his composure. He offered his
assistance to the ladies, who gladly accepted.

Aelryk looked at River and said, “Do you
know when he will invade my kingdom?”

“The sorcerer only knew that it would be
soon.”

“And binding the elemental,” Aelryk began.
“That means he's aiming for you next.”

“I should prove a most difficult target,”
River said. “Do not worry about me.”

Mel's face was beginning to show the signs
of his fatigue. “We have a lot of rebuilding to do here. Our overseer has been
killed in the battle, and my clan is in need of strong leadership. I will not
be coming with you to Na'zora. I'm needed here.”

“I understand,” Aelryk said. “You have
fulfilled your promise and more by leading us safely to the Vale. I am in your
debt.”

Mel replied, “You are all welcome to stay
here as long as you need. We are all very grateful for your help. Many more
would lay dead if you had not come with me.” He nodded at River and rejoined
his clansmen at the center of the ruined village.

The rest of the day was spent clearing out
the ruined huts and rebuilding them to provide adequate shelter for the elves. Many
of them would still have to spend the night in the trees, but their homes could
be repaired in a matter of days. The structures were simple but sturdy.

Mel personally attended to his fallen
clansmen. He carried each body safely into the forest and placed it in the
limbs of the surrounding trees. The birds would scatter them to all corners of
the Wildlands, and they would again rejoin the forests who birthed them.

It was a somber task which he did not
enjoy. With so many others injured, and the rest busy rebuilding their homes,
Mel felt it was his duty to tend the dead. They had been the village's first
line of defense, fighting unarmed to slow the invasion of the monsters while
the others retrieved their weapons.

Once all of the fallen had been tended to,
Mel went to check on the wounded. The dryads were still busying themselves
treating them, and he wanted to offer his help. Even before he discovered his
magic, he knew a lot about the herbs available in the Wildlands. He was no
healer, but he knew which plants would help seal a wound and prevent infection.

“Do you ladies need anything?” Mel asked
one of the dryads.

“We have enough of what we need for now,”
she replied. “You look like you could use some rest.”

Mel shook his head. “I just haven't had a
moment to clear my head.”

The dryad placed a warm hand on Mel's
cheek. “Your people need you now more than ever. If you are to be strong for
them, you must take care of yourself.”

“I will,” he replied.

She handed him a small bundle of leaves
and said, “Eat this. It will make you feel better.”

Mel obeyed. The leaves had a bitter taste,
but he chewed them until they were nearly gone before he swallowed them.
Despite the flavor, they provided a very soothing feeling in his stomach. Most
of his tension drained away, and he was able to breathe more freely. Perhaps he
would take a few moments for himself to meditate in the forest.

He traveled only as far as the edge of the
village and sat cross-legged with his back against a tall silver tree. Closing
his eyes, he allowed his mind to wander. An image of Thinal came to him. She
was sitting beside him beneath the green canopy of the forest. She smiled her
usual happy smile. It would seem the devastation of their village had not
dampened her spirits. Ever the optimist, she projected joy wherever she went.
Death, it seemed, had not affected her happiness.

Opening his eyes, he looked to his side
and saw nothing. She had not really been there, of course, but he had sensed
her presence very strongly. Staring up at the sky, he watched as birds darted
back and forth through the trees. They too had been unhindered by the fighting
below. They could overcome anything by flying to a new home if the old one
became unsuitable. Mel did not have that option. His people would stay and rebuild
their village. Their wounds would heal, and the forest would take care of them.

*
* * * *

“Father,” Isandra said. “Will the village
be safe if our troops head to Na'zora?”

“Mel will be able to sense any further
danger. The forest will warn him, and the warriors here are brave and strong.
They will not be taken by surprise again.” River spoke with assurance. “This
Master Ulda is going to be very angry when he sees what happened here, and he
is too smart to risk attacking this village again. It is Na'zora that is going
to need protection now.”

“I'd like to leave first thing in the
morning,” Aelryk said. “It's a day's ride to the border from here and another
day back to the palace.”

Both Isandra and River nodded their
agreement.

“We will ride through the village of
Enald. I will have the townspeople send supplies to aid these elves.” Aelryk
turned to have another look at the devastation. “Do you think they were able to
bind any of the elves' spirits?”

“No,” River replied. “The fallen were killed
too quickly, and they did not make any attempt at it once we arrived.”

Aelryk lowered his voice to nearly a
whisper. “Can you be so sure?”

“I examined the gems taken from the
sorcerers' bodies. They were all empty.”

“What do you think has become of my
citizens who were taken? Do any of them survive?”

“They are most likely dead,” River said
solemnly. “I believe they have all been used in creating the hybrid monsters.
He wanted the elven souls to power his enchantments. They would have lived
indefinitely in torment with their spirits trapped inside those gems.”

“I can't say which fate is worse,” Aelryk
said, shaking his head. “I'm going to join the hunting party. Maybe we can find
these people something good for dinner.”

River and Isandra headed into the woods to
find Mel. He had drifted off to sleep beneath the shade of a birch tree. As
they approached, he awoke and looked up at them. “I guess I fell asleep,” he
said.

“It's been a long day,” River replied.

Mel stood and stretched his neck to either
side. “Has any progress been made in my absence?”

“Yes,” Isandra said. “Four huts have been
rebuilt, and they're working on a fifth.”

“I guess I should get back to work, then,”
he replied. “How long are you staying?”

“We leave in the morning,” River replied.

“Do you suppose I'll ever see you again?”
Mel asked.

“I doubt I shall travel this way again,
but you are always welcome in the Vale.”

“I'd like that,” Mel said, smiling. “That
is, if I ever get another opportunity. Some of my clansmen are saying they want
me to be overseer.”

“You don't want the title?” Isandra asked.

“I'm usually the guy who tells the
overseer when he's being an idiot,” Mel replied. “I'm not used to being the
person in charge.”

“You're a shaman, Mel,” River began. “Who
is better to lead your people? They need your guidance now more than ever. Your
path in life is much changed.”

“I guess it is.” He watched as his
clansmen continued working on a hut. They were so distracted by their work that
he wondered when the grief would set in. A period of mourning would need to be
observed in respect for those who were lost.

The hunters began returning bearing fruit
and nuts. King Aelryk returned with an elk, and the elves gathered to prepare
it for dinner. Their spirits were high as they cooked and ate, and Aelryk
admired their resilience. This was no savage race of elves. In fact, he found
them to be very much the same as his own citizens.

“We give thanks to the forest for
providing this feast before us,” Mel said. “We also give thanks for the lives
that were spared and for the help of our friends from the Vale and Na'zora.”

The villagers cheered in reply.

“We also honor those who gave their lives
to defend our homes,” he continued. “Once our village is restored, we will mourn
for them properly.”

Many of the elves nodded and spoke softly
to each other. They had pushed the thought from their minds, but the sorrow had
touched their hearts. Their clansmen would not be forgotten.