She checked and found the first man dead. The second was unconscious and likely to stay that way for a while. She dragged the body under some old straw on the other side of the run-in shed. They might have friends.
She knelt to examine the unconscious man and saw his breathing was shallow and fast. She had done more damage than she intended. Things were difficult to control in the heat of the moment; she might have two bodies to bury come first light.
As she began to rise, she sensed someone behind her and as she spun to defend herself, a blow struck her on the side of the head, glancing down to crack hard into her shoulder. Its force drove her to her knees and only her armour prevented her receiving a broken shoulder or worse. But the glancing strike to her helmet had disorientated her enough to leave her open to another blow from behind. Her last thought before she collapsed into semi-consciousness was: but there were only two of them!
There was another hot flash of pain and then her side went numb; she felt another pain somewhere else, but she wasn’t sure where, and then darkness swallowed her.
*
After three days of running, Gulamendis was certain that if he never had to set foot in a woodland again, he would be content. He would return to the new city, to Home, and never again set foot beyond its walls. Whatever sense of wonder he had first felt was now gone, replaced by fatigued legs and sore feet. He kept up with his rustic cousin by force of will, and a tiny bit of magic he used when training demons, to dull the pain.
His companion had been less than talkative. At night when they camped, the young elf - Gorandis had given his age as less than fifty years - had been content to sit by their fire and chew on dried fruit and meat, answering Gulamendis’s questions with short, non-specific answers. The Demon Master didn’t know if Gorandis was especially adept at avoiding conversation or if he was stupid. The second night Gulamendis quickly fell into an exhausted sleep.
Throughout the following day they moved fast and Gulamendis grew used to the gruelling pace. He grudgingly conceded his distant kin possessed impressive skills he had previously disdained. Rustic these elves might be, but they were superb woodsmen, and no doubt excellent hunters.
When twilight approached, he could feel the change around him.
He felt something in the very air of this forest. The same emotional tug, so alien and yet so right, he first felt upon entering this world, Home; a feeling that grew stronger now with every passing minute, as if they were nearing the source of that wonderful sense.
Then he entered the clearing and saw Elvandar. Across the open meadow stood a huge city of trees, their gigantic boles linked by gracefully arching bridges on which elves could be seen walking.
Gulamendis looked up and saw how the trunks rose until they were lost in a sea of deep green foliage cast almost blue-black in the evening gloom, but somehow alight with a soft glow all of their own. Here and there he glimpsed a tree sparkling with golden, silver, or even white leaves. A soft glow permeated the entire area, and he dropped to his knees, as tears flowed down his cheeks. ‘I had no idea,’ he whispered.
Gorandis stopped and turned to look at his companion. Whatever emotions played across the taredhel’s face, stopped the smaller runner from chiding him. This was a moment of deep, personal feeling.
‘The stars,’ whispered Gulamendis. ‘You have so many.’
‘Stars?’ asked Gorandis.
He pointed. ‘The trees. We call those ... we have seven, brought with us from this world ages ago. They are the Seven Stars. We are the Clans of the Seven Stars.’
Gorandis cocked his head to one side, as if trying to remember something. Then he said, ‘Elvandar has always been this way’
A thicket of massive trees had greeted the eyes of the demon hunter, so many he couldn’t tell how far back into the deep forest they stretched. He counted at least twenty, and there were others behind them. Moreover, he saw them leaved in colours he’d never seen before. Of the Seven Stars four had copper bronze leaves, two vivid yellow foliage, and one of them was resplendent in silver. But here he saw blue leaves, deep green, red, orange, silver and gold. Their brilliance made the shimmering glow of the Seven Stars pale in comparison.
Pulling himself to his feet, the Demon Master said, ‘There are so many’
Gorandis shrugged. ‘I don’t know how many, but there are a lot of them. We’ve had babies and they needed room, so the spellweavers planted saplings and the Master of the Green urged them to grow quickly.’ He motioned for Gulamendis to follow. ‘Come, see for yourself.’