Of Gods and Elves

chapter Three


The next day they rode in silence. At mid-day, they stopped to eat and rest the horses. Several groups of soldiers and a few local farmers passed, but all ignored their presence. The temperature had dropped substantially, and a strong north wind cut straight through the party’s clothing. It wasn’t long after they were underway again when it became clear that they would need to risk a town and an inn.

“No need for us to hide at this point.” Millet’s voice trembled from the cold. “Whatever their plan, it’s obvious they do not intend to hinder our departure.”

“I agree,” said Malstisos. He glanced over at Maybell who rode in silence, her eyes down. He couldn’t help but worry. Despite remarkable resilience for a woman of her advanced years, he knew the elements must be taking their toll. “In fact I intend to remain in plain sight for as long as possible.”

Jacob chuckled and slowly shook his head. “It would do no good to run. They have trackers from Angrääl following us even now. Of that, I have no doubt. Where we go, they will follow.”

Millet grunted with displeasure. “When we split up they may have a harder time of it. I have a feeling that it is you and I they will be following, and my skills in evasion should not be underestimated.”

Jacob sniggered.

“You should not let your eyes always be your judge, child,” scolded Malstisos. “Your father has great confidence in Millet. And thus far he has shown his worth more than once since I've traveled with him. I daresay his skills and usefulness outweigh yours.”

Jacob suddenly halted his horse, his face twisted in anger. “Mind your tongue, elf.” His hand slid to his sword.

“Don’t be foolish.” Malstisos’ voice became low and dangerous. “I will not be threatened, no matter who your father is.”

The two stared as each other intensely for what seemed like an eternity.

“Enough of this!” Maybell’s voice echoed over the trees. The ferocity of the woman’s tone startled the others.

Malstisos bowed his head. “I am deeply sorry, sister. I know you must be cold and tired.” He turned to Jacob. “I’m certain we can conduct ourselves with better manners.”

Jacob continued to fume but nodded sharply. “For now,” he grumbled.

Maybell snorted in disgust at the scene. “How much farther to the next village?” she asked Millet.

“Two days,” he replied. “But there’s a hostel we could reach before sundown if we keep our next rest short.”

“Good,” said Maybell, trying to hide her relief.

Malstisos stiffened his back, and he drew his long knife.

“What is it?” whispered Millet.

“Something follows.” The elf dismounted.

“I told you” scoffed Jacob. “They have sent trackers. Weren’t you paying attention?”

Malstisos shook his head. “This is no tracker. Whatever it is… it smells wrong.” He closed his eyes for a moment and sniffed the air. “Stay here.” He placed his hand on Millet's shoulder. “If I do not return in one hour, flee as fast as you can.”

“Where should we go?” asked Millet, alarmed.

“Stick with your plan,” the elf replied, then turned to Maybell and smiled. “Don't worry. I may only be chasing shadows.” He disappeared into the nearby trees, leaving the group behind.

Many minutes passed before anyone dared to move. Finally, Millet reached into his pack and retrieved a loaf of bread and passed it out to the rest. Maybell reluctantly took a piece and found a spot a few yards from Millet and Jacob to sit by herself and nibble.

“What do we do if he doesn't return?” asked Jacob through a mouthful of bread.

Millet met Jacobs’s eyes. “We'll do as Malstisos said and continue to Baltria. There I will contact your father. Now if you don't mind, I would rather not speak until Malstisos returns.”

“If he returns,” muttered Jacob.

Millet shot a furious glance and stormed away.

Minutes seemed like hours as the group stared into the surrounding forest, hoping to see Malstisos return. Finally, just as Millet was about to tell the others it was time to leave, he caught sight of the elf, head bowed low, holding what appeared to be a severed head in one hand and his long knife in the other. Maybell gasped. Millet and Jacob stared in horror as the elf tossed the head to the ground beside the horses. The elf's knife and hands were covered with thick, black ooze, and the stench of rotting flesh filled the air. The head resembled a human man, but its features were distorted and grotesque, as if burned by fire, its hair tangled, stringy, and covered in filth.

“What is that thing?” whispered Maybell with a shudder.

Malstisos looked at Jacob. “I was hoping our young friend here might be able to enlighten us.”

Jacob’s eyes went wide. “Me? How should I know? I've never seen such a creature.”

Malstisos studied Jacob then looked down at the remains. “I found it about half a mile behind us. It was clearly following our trail. I tried to approach unseen, but it must have had a keen sense of smell because it knew I was there the moment I saw it. I am no seeker, but no human I have ever encountered, save perhaps Lord Starfinder, could have heard my approach. When I knew I was discovered, I decided to withdraw, but the thing was on me in an instant. It moved as quickly as any elf, though not as graceful. It struck at me with bare hands, but with power beyond human strength. As it was unarmed, I had the advantage and buried my knife in its heart.”

“Then why cut off its head?” interrupted Jacob. “And why bring this disgusting thing here?”

“Like I said,” Malstisos responded in a low tone. “I was hoping you could help identify it. You have been here throughout the entire occupation. Have you never heard of such a creature? But that's not the only reason.” He reached into his saddlebag, retrieved a flask and a small cloth and began cleaning his hands and knife. “I have the creature’s head because it was the only way I could kill it. My blow through its heart served only to enrage the beast. As I pulled my blade loose, it charged in with a ferocity I have never encountered. Again and again it charged. I was only barely able to avoid its blows. I slashed away at every part of it and watched in horror as it had no effect. It wasn't long before I knew I had to either kill it or flee, so I waited for it to charge one last time and brought my blade across its neck. To my great relief my stroke fell true and the creature died.”

“What should we do now?” asked Millet. “If there are more of these things we don't stand a chance.”

Malstisos dried his hands and wiped his knife with oil. “If there are more, then we are in mortal danger.” He checked his pack and sheathed his knife. “I cannot protect everyone at once. Still, I don't see that we have any other choice but to continue with our plan. If we are lucky, there are no more of those things about. If not, then I'll do my best to kill them before they are upon us. Now that I know how to kill it, one will pose me little danger and with only Maybell at my side, I should be able to keep her safe.”

“It's settled.” Millet mounted his horse. “The crossroads, then we will part ways. By then we should know if there are more of these... creatures.”

The party rode on through the rest of the day in silence. It was nearly sunset when they arrived at the hospice. It was little more than a small cabin with a small adjoining stable, but the smoke from the chimney and the aroma of roast pork filled their hearts with joy. Millet dismounted and motioned for the others to wait. “I'll see to our accommodations,” he said. “I won't be but a moment.”

The interior was as he expected. The single room was large enough to hold a dozen beds and a roughly made dining table. A fire crackled in the hearth and was the sole source of light, giving it a comfortable, albeit dim, atmosphere. A thin young man sat at the table carving a piece of roast pork. His blond hair and fine features indicated that he had not seen many winters. He looked up as Millet opened the door and frowned.

“If you're here to rob me, I have nothing to take but some roast pork and a half bottle of wine.”

Millet stopped and bowed low. “I am not here to rob you, young man. My companions and I seek a bed for the night.” He scanned the room for signs of other people but saw none. “Are you master here?”

“I am,” the boy replied. “At least until my uncle returns.” The boy stood, wiping his hands on his trousers. “I'm Gerald. And you are welcome here, though I have little to offer.” He walked to the hearth and stirred the fire. “How many are you?”

“Four,” Millet replied. “And we only ask for a bed and perhaps a bite to eat.” He fished three coppers from his pocket and placed them on the table. “This should cover our expense.”

Gerald’s eyes widened and he retrieved the coins, clutching them tightly. “In that case, you are very welcome.”

Millet smiled warmly. “If you would allow me to stable my horses.”

“Of course,” stammered Gerald. “I'll do it for you, if you'd like.” He headed toward the door still holding the coins.

Millet grabbed the boy gently by the arm. “That won't be necessary. But if you could prepare a meal I would be grateful.”

“Yes, yes,” said Gerald. “It's already prepared. It will be waiting.”

Millet thanked the boy and returned to the party. After they unpacked and stabled the horses, they entered. Four plates and cups had been placed around the table. Malstisos was careful to hide his features beneath his hood.

Gerald whistled merrily as he placed blankets on the beds. The roast pork, though a bit plain, was well received, and soon they were laughing and talking as if they hadn't a care in the world.

“Hostels in this area are usually filled to bursting this time of year,” said Millet once his belly was full. “Why are you so empty?”

Gerald's face twisted in anger. “Angrääl,” he spat. “It's because of those damn soldiers. Most are too afraid to travel, and the few that do are agents and officials of the invaders. They take what they want and leave us to starve.” His hands trembled as he drank from his cup. “This hostel has been in my family for three generations. We’ve never had much, but donations from the temples and travelers kept us fed and clothed. We were able to help hundreds of people who might have otherwise perished on the road. I always took great pride in the work my family has done here. Now I can barely survive.”

“You mentioned your uncle,” said Millet, his voice filled with compassion. “Where is he?”

“Hunting,” replied Gerald, regaining his composure. “We can't afford to buy food most times, so my uncle hunts for what we need.” He nodded to the leftover pork. “Without it we'd starve.”

Maybell reached over, took Gerald’s hand and said softly. “You're very brave to stay here alone.”

Gerald managed a weak smile. “It's my uncle that's brave. The forests are riddled with bandits and thieves. So far he's avoided them, but it's only a matter of time before I fear his luck runs out.”

“I'll pray for you,” said Maybell, tears welling in her eyes.

Gerald jerked his hand away. “Save your prayers,” he snarled. “The Gods care nothing for me.” He stood up and faced the wall. “I'm sorry.” His voice cracked as he forced back his tears. “I know you mean well. It's just that it has been so long since hope has been in this land. I've prayed and prayed, but I think the Gods have abandoned us.”

“Perhaps not,” said Millet. “Perhaps help is on the way.”

Gerald turned and sighed. “I hope you're right.”

They soon retired for the night. The earlier cheer was overcome by sadness, and none slept peacefully.