Rolling Shadows - Chapter 8

As soon as Nayrath joined them the party took to the sky. La'ingif's staff cradled him in vines, slung underneath like a stretcher. If the staff could have wept it would have, it cared for its master and would be with him till the day he died.
A staff did not join to another when the master died it usually returned home and rested in a forest of other former staffs, or else it chose to grow into its tree form at the place where its master fell. However La'ingif was not dead, though his trembling was becoming gradually worse.
Tha'lif cast a glance every so often at her boyfriend's quivering body. She was of course concerned but didn't know enough of manticore thorns to have any concept of the seriousness of the situation, did it kill – albeit slowly, was it paralysis. As much had been said by one of her companions, she wasn't sure she could hear anything any more. It was still dark but few hours of night remained, they still needed sleep. Knowing they were high enough to avoid most obstacles Nayrath kept his eyes on the ground. He was looking for a place they could rest, if only for a few hours. They talked in brief sentences, to the point, not that elves were known for beating about the bush. Cassy had suggested that for now the best thing they could do was to leave the thorn where it was, Shaydon disagree and suggested they should pull the thorn out.
Nayrath agreed with Cassy he said, “pulling an arrow out is not always the best thing to do. In any case there is a risk that the thorn could snap and then we might never get it out.”
“Here looks good,” Cassy said looking down.
“Indeed,” Nayrath said, looking where she pointed, “we're a good way from the tavern, it should do for the evening. Cassy head down with La'ingif and Tha'liff, Shaydon: lets try and find some wood for the fire.”
La'ingif's staff followed Cassy and Tha'lif. As it neared the ground it lay him down and a blanket spread from it covering him. Tha'lif and Cassy's staffs became illuminated at the ends to light their way. They sat alongside La'ingif under the long over hanging branches that just scraped the ground. Tha'lif placed La'ingif's hand in hers, “it'll be all right,” she told him.
“I'm going to see if I can help the others,” Cassy said, “will you be all right here for a while?”
“Yes.”
As Cassy walked away Tha'lif heard a voice, “greetings,” it said. She looked up and around trying to discern from where the voice had come. She saw no-one. She spoke quietly to the wood in the hopes of getting a response but, nothing. So she went back to lightly stroking La'ingif's hand. She wondered if he could feel that. In due course the other's returned. Cassy asked if their had been any change. Tha'lif shook her head. The others had brought wood with them and laid it down starting a fire. Tha'lif's hand moved to stroke his staff, the living tool showed no reaction other than creating a second pillow for its master's head. Tha'lif laid down next to her own staff and performed the same spell.
She watched the hypnotic flames rising like ornate blades in the darkness. She asked Cassy whether she had heard the voice. Cassy replied that she had not and they each closed their eyes.

Sleep do not come immediately to Tha'lif. She pondered whether the others could sleep because of their experience, their training. It could have been simply exhaustion. Her worried eyes remained fixed on La'ingif. The fire had died down almost burnt out. Cinders glowed in the charcoal. She watched them, like fireflies in the night, slowly they faded into blackness or it might have been her heavy eyelids.
“Greetings,” she said to the night in her last breath of consciousness. There was only the calls of the night birds. In the last few seconds of consciousness a jumble of thoughts came to her; of La'ingif, of the manticors, her friends, her parents. La'ingif lay motionless now, his eyes were open, they moved uncertainly.
Sleep finally took Tha'liff.

The next morning they awoke with the rise of the sun shinning through the branches of the trees around them. The wind blew coursing the shadows to dance across their faces. La'ingif seemed to be worse, he wasn't even quivering now. His eyes apparently remained the only thing he could move.
Shaydon had walked away from the group early that morning and returned now. Her lips showed evidence of a smile having been their. Her cheeks were a little white showing they had been flushed. She wished them a good morning as she arrived back with them.
“Morning,” Nayrath said, “where have you been?”
“Down to the stream,” she paused, “I sent I message to my brother.”
A less adept commander might have chastised Shaydon right there, Nayrath knew her better than that and was sure she would not have endangered them of their mission. Shaydon explained that she had been careful not to reveal an information about what they were doing. She told them that her brother had some experience with manticore attacks, this had been the reason why she had sent the message.
“What did you find out?” Nayrath asked.
“The manticore thorns are natural,” Shaydon was sure this was known to Nayrath but she was always a thorough person, “they were used for hunting. It enabled the manticores to get pray with little risk to themselves. They could ambush a group of catoblepas, the thorns fly off like darts. Those that are hit are downed and the group leaves without them.”
“Believing them to be dead?”
“Yes. Then the manticores simply return when it is believed safe and eat their pray. Now of course they are simply a weapon of war.”
“So they do not kill?” Tha'lif asked with a glimmer of hope in her voice.
“I can't say,” Shaydon said with regret, “when my brother encountered them he had full medical resources with him.”
“Then it is treatable.”
“Yes. Some creatures near the mountains of manticore origin have even reported to be immune to the poison. All I can say for sure in this instance is that La'ingif will eventually fall into a compete comatose state, making him completely unresponsive, but...”
“But what?”
“The senses still work, to an extent.”
“It would be horrible,” Tha'lif said, fighting back tiers, “eaten alive, you could...”
“Don't,” Nayrath said placing a hand on her shoulder, “no need to think about it. That's not going to happen. He's not dead yet. We shall do whatever we can to help him. I think that...”
“Greetings,” a voice interrupted.
“We won't hurt you,” Tha'lif said, “show yourself.”
“You bring weapons,” the voice said, “staffs of magic. Are you here for us?”
“No,” Tha'lif said.
“These weapons are to defend ourselves,” Nayrath said, “we have enemies and must defend ourselves. I assure you we will cause you know harm. I apologise for being in this forest of yours – we simply needed a place to rest. We shall be moving on as soon as we can.”
“Your worlds are sincere,” the voice said, “I believe I can trust you.”
“You can,” Tha'lif said reassuringly, “who are you?”
When their was no reply Tha'lif said, “I will prove it to you. See that tree stump up ahead. I will go their without weapons or staff so you and I can talk.”
“All right,” the voice agreed.
As Tha'lif walked towards the tree line Nayrath exclaimed from behind her, “No. Stay here. That's an order.”
Tha'lif stoped, turned and said, “I am not under your command.”
“No,” Nayrath admitted, “but you are under my protection and I say 'don't go'”
“I'm only over their,” Tha'lif said, “I'll be fine.” As she walked off unconcerned Shaydon whispered to Nayrath that she could go and bring her back. Nayrath simply shook his head and said, “let her try it.”
Tha'lif came to the tree stump she had pointed out to the mysterious speaker, she sat. Then above her the leaves rustled. A small creature came falling from the canopy landing at her feat. Even though Tha'lif sat the small being came up to he knee. She wore clothes of woven leafs, that nevertheless seem to give her freedom of movement. Tha'lif looked into the creatures eyes, as near as she could with the height difference. In those blue pools she saw the wisdom of adulthood, then hight did not equate to age, for this species this could be an adult. Far the most predominate feature of the creature where here ears. They were size of the side of her head, broad in the middle and thin at each end.
“I'm sorry for being so mysterious,” she said, “I was scared. You seem serene, but those you travel with are not. They are here through orders. You all care about what you are doing but those you travel with have to be here. Why do you travel with them?”
“Your very astute,” Tha'liff said. “in answer to your question, I have skills that they required.”
“I am not astute so much as I listen,” she said, “it is the trees that deserve the credit. The see all and listen. My name is Belss. What's your name?”
“Tha'lif”
“Your friend is hurt.”
“Yes.”
“Bring him we can help you.”
“You know of manticore poison?”
“We do.”

Tha'liff followed Birch as she headed deeper into the forest, like a wide-eyed child promised sweets by a grandfather. Nayrath had been watching closely. When he saw Tha'lif about to leave with the creature he mounted his staff, tapped the ground and headed straight for them. Suddenly, just before he got to them vines reached out from one of the trees and grabbed him. They brought him forward and backward, swinging him to slow him down, so as not to cause injury. Though no sound had been made the small creature seem to know what had happened. She turned to face him, putting her hands together. The tree returned Nayrath to a standing position and on of the vines handed him his staff.
“Your fast,” she observed, “I'm Belss, and you are?”
“Nayrath.”
“Most proficient, I must say,” Belss smiled, “you have wounded allow us to help you.”
“Thank you, but,” Nayrath realised his sentence didn't have an end, but what, he thought.
“You do not know how to help him?”
“No.”
“Then allow us. Bring him.”
“Thank you,” Nayrath said and indicated for Cassy and Shaydon to follow, “what would you ask in exchange?”
“Let us try,” she repeated and she walked with such fluid motion one might think she could float.

Belss identified her people as pixies. They were a race that were said to share a common ancestor with the elves and thus had some magical ability. Nayrath's doubts ebbed away as they followed behind her. The more rational part of his mind hoped that was not some magic. In truth he doubted it, if these beings did have magic it was most probably far subtler that that of the elves. Behind him La'ingif's body floated, for his brother he felt he had to take the chance. In that moment he didn't care about orders.
They came into a wide clearing where the pixies moved about between the trees, long branches hung over the area, the same as they tree that the group had rested under. It was now confirmed that Belss size was not atypical of her kin. The pixies live in squat wigwams of curved wood in the center of the clearing. They moved with purpose, attending to the trees but still stopping occasionally to converse with one another. It was a most idyllic way of life Nayrath thought as he looked on. They were symbiotic with the trees, even more so than his own people. Belss then spoke, seemingly to no-one. Almost as if she where saying to the world 'I exist' at a party where she was being ignored. However unusual this might have seemed to the elves it was apparently normal behavior. At that moment, from one of the wigwams, their emerged a pixie. He was just a little taller than Belss, with grey hair that covered most of the top of his head. His ears too where hairy inside and out. The man looked at Belss for a moment before saying, “hello, Belss,” his simple greeting had a definite air of 'what have you got yourself into this time' about it. The man looked up at Nayrath and the others and was glad to see that this small man showed no sign of being intimidated nor frightened, so as to act irrationally, of the visitors.
“These are elves from far away,” Belss said, “they need our help.”
It occurred to Nayrath that he should probably say something. He stepped forward, considered how to address this man, decided on kneeling, knelt and said, “I am Nayrath, we would appreciate any assistance you could offer.”
“A manticore thorn,” the man said, “we can help you. The herbologist will be summoned,” like Belss had previously he spoke like he was thinking to himself. This time however his messages was relayed by other pixies down away from them.
“Thank you,” Nayrath said, standing, “I am sorry to bring this trouble to your wood. However I fear this may only be the first of many such incidents you may have to bear. As you are aware of the manticores you know...”
“That they will come,” the man said, “she will be here soon.”
“Who?
“The herbologist of course.”
The man smiled, feeling the need to say more, “if you are thinking you are to blame for the manticores do not. Because you are not.”
“Not me personally,” Nayrath said, “but my forefathers could be blamed.”
“For no actions but their own. It may have been in inaction that the Dark Elves came to power, that they endowed the manticores with these abilities – that lead us to this situation. The Dark Elves are to blame.”
The herbologist arrived. She was plump and a good deal shorter than the other pixies. Her hair was matted with leaves and she smelt faintly of lavender. She looked up at the elves, smiled and moved directly over to La'ingif.
“Can you help him?” Tha'lif asked.
“I will have to look,” the herbologist said calmingly, “but I believe it can be done.” Her eyes turned to her patient, his quivering had stopped, only the eyes could move. The herbologist lifted up his arm which dropped straight away to his side, she declared that she had seen worse. Tha'lif thought this a rather odd time for a joke, but then she thought with a smile, perhaps it was also the best time. The herbologist now looked closely at the wound without a moments hesitation she yanked out the thorn.
“Be careful,” Tha'lif said.
“It can do no damage now,” she placed the thorn on the ground.
“We were concerned that it could snap,” Tha'lif explained.
“A swift straight pull and they come out easily.”
“How do you know about these things?”
“I worked with the Dwarfs in The Interregnum,” she said, “we encountered some manticores. Several dwarfs where speared by these things.”
“Did they...” Tha'lif couldn't complete her sentence.
“Live? Yes. We did get to them sooner, this may not make a difference,” she looked up from her patient, “we'll need fresh poison.”
“That might be difficult,” Nayrath said.
“He's your brother!” said Tha'lif in a rare occurrence of venom in an elf their voice, “Nayrath please. I know our mission is important but...please.”
“Of course we'll go,” Nayrath said, “Cassy, Shaydon.” They headed a short way away and mounted their staffs, “Tha'lif,” Nayrath said, “if we are not back by sundown, we probably won't be, should that happen I want you to continue in the morning.”
“I will.”
Nayrath nodded, looked to the woman that flanked him and with their nods confirming they were ready the three tapped the ground and took to the sky. Tha'lif watched them go for a moment before turning back to the herbologist.
“Thank you for your help,” she said, “what may we give you in return?”
“Stories.”
“I'm sorry?”
“We have all we need,” the herbologist said, “food shelter warmth. So we excel in culture we want to hear of your people and in so doing help to enrich us.”
“Would history count?”
“Of course.”
“Then I have a story for you,” she paused to sink into a narrative voice, “The temple was situated on an island in a river that flowed through Eleselthinor. It was a quiet place where people could explore their spirituality...”

Nayrath, Cassy and Shaydon pulled their staffs upwards, they slowly climbed. Soon they were far higher than was usual for a staff-rider would usually ride, high enough to pass over large mountains, their staffs had sprouted deep blue oxygen berries to assist their breathing in the reverified air. They know that manticores couldn't reach this height and so it was a strategically sound position.
They were now high above the Miner's Bounty. It looked little more than a toy from their height. Nayrath performed a spell and from the jewel at the end of his staff their came a shimmering light, like a star, it expanded in front of them to form a rectangle. The rectangle angled itself downwards to show them the landscape beneath but magnified.
They could now see that the ground was carpeted in dead, some manticores but mostly dwarfs. They had been warriors and even in death they seem to grip their hammers and axes tightly. The bodies lay from the cave entrance all the way to the tavern.
“We abandoned them,”Cassy said.
“We caused this,” Nayrath said, “I think they were here for us.”
“Another prophecy perhaps,” Shaydon suggested.
“Perhaps,” Nayrath said with a nod.
“We should inform The Twelve,” Shaydon said.
“They probably know,” Nayrath paused, “but it would do know harm.”
The elves interlaced their fingers and placed their thumbs on their temple, closing their eyes they thought of all the pertinent information about what had happened to them since their departure. While they did this their staffs sprouted small cradles into which red orbs appeared. Each of the orbs glowed. The elves took theirs in their hand and bowled it underarm through the air. They speed away, knowing their destination instinctively – The seat of The Twelve.