Night fell over Athel Loren. But to the Sylvans moving through the shadows of the forest, there was no real darkness. They could see as if it were day. Clad in leathers, sounds of their weapons muffled as they moved with absolute stealth towards the edge of the forest, the Waywatchers were like shadows in the night, so fleeting and swift that the creatures of the night barely noticed them, if at all. Out in front was an elf with long, greying hair, sharp eyes focused on the ground, tracking the footprints of the clumsy human raiders who had thought they could break the boundaries surrounding Athel Loren. They had been following this trail for some time now, since mid-afternoon, by their estimate. The humans had made no signs of trying to conceal their presence, either. While when coming in, they had been silent hunters, seeking game where it was forbidden, once they had hunted, filled with the pride of their catch, they hadn't bothered to hide their tracks. And so the Waywatchers hunted. Six of them. By the leader's estimate, possibly as many as twenty-four humans, a large hunting party. The odds were just about right.
"Ilthar," came a whisper, silent as anything could be in this night. "We have them."
Ilthar moved over and silently looked to where the younger elf pointed. He was right. Four humans. But that still, by his estimate, left twenty. He slipped slightly closer, then moved up one of the nearby trees, looking down on the four. They were alone, that was for sure. But it made no sense. Where had they all gone? He shimmied back down the tree, and conferred momentarily with the others.
"There are four of them," he said softly. "I would have thought more, but it seems that there were no more than this. Encircle them, and on my command, open fire."
They nodded silently and faded into the darkness, leaves on a breeze. He would have expected no less. Turning, he scampered back up the tree again, still silent. He notched an arrow to his bowstring, and took careful aim at one, who seemed to be the leader. He quietly drew the string back to his cheek, making sure his aim was true. It was. He noticed other arrows at the ready. One, two, three, four... where was the fifth? Perhaps he just couldn't see him. While another part of him screamed that something was wrong, there was clearly nothing of the sort. He let fly.
The arrow flew. It soared gracefully, clearing heads to approach the target. It approached... and went straight through the image, slamming into the dirt. Even as Ilthar stared in disbelief, other arrows lanced out, with the same result. Ilthar swore. Magic. It was a trap. But before he could say anything, the mage revealed himself. As he was hurled from the tree, a shadowy fist cracked down, splitting the old oak down the middle. Ilthar landed on his back, dazed. Trap. It was a trap. He could hear the other Waywatchers fighting now, retreating. But there was no retreat for them. The hunters emerged from the forest behind, shielded by shadow magic, and slew his companions. He saw it happen. And he could do nothing to stop it. Then something else curious happened. The trees began to shudder. But this thought quickly slipped away. A human bent over him.
"This one's still alive," he called out. Grabbing Ilthar by the hair, he pulled him up. "Think you can follow us, you little elf? We'll teach you otherwise."
"How... how did you know?" Ilthar asked.
"You may be good at concealing yourselves from human eyes, elf, but the eyes of a mage are not so limited," came another voice. A wizard clad in grey robes stepped out of the shadows, darkness coiling about him. Wild-eyed, he brushed back stringy gray hair from his too-thin face. Ilthar's eyes focused past him. The trees were moving. There was no doubt about it.
"Now," the wizard said cooly, "Why did you and your foolish companions follow us?" Ilthar didn't reply. He could feel vibrations in the ground, and tensed. The wizard grabbed him by the throat. "Answer me!" he demanded. Ilthar made no move. The wizard stood.
"It's your own fault, you know," he said coldly. Walking off, he brooded in the shadows. The hunter grabbed Ilthar, and hoisted him up, smirking all the while.
"You should have talked," the hunter said. It was the last thing he said. A gigantic branch came flying out of nowhere, slamming into him and lifting him up, tossing him into a small stand of trees, who also began to move. Ilthar laughed. A human looked at him, fear in his eyes.
"What have you done?" he hissed. Ilthar just laughed harder.
"You have awoken the forest, you fool," the Wood Elf said with a sneer, "And you you must pay the price." The forest spirits attacked. Dryads, howling and wailing, tore hunters limb from limb. A few gathered around the fire, pushing back the trees with burning brands. Then the master arrived. Roaring, the huge Treeman stormed the small group, ignoring the fires, despite the obvious pain they caused it, and swept them aside, before he smothered the fire. Resistance was almost crushed, before the wizard took a hand. Shadow-magic surged, wrapping the Treeman in a shield of darkness, shifting shadows, reflections of light, which then proceeded to constrict. Not good enough. The forest spirit burst free, and seized the wizard in one massive hand. The Grey Wizard wasn't overly dismayed, though, muttering another spell and sending shadow-magic arcing into the Treeman, wracking the ancient being. As the spirit staggered back from the human, the wizard pursued it, while keeping the others at bay with another shadow shield. Ilthar staggered to his feet. He couldn't let the forest spirits be defeated. They had risked much to attack, and he wouldn't let that go unpaid. His hand fell to a fallen dagger. Grabbing it, he lunged, tackling the barrier. A feeling of icy chillness pervaded his bones, but he pressed on. After what seemed like an eternity, he emerged and saw the wizard. Coming up behind him, while the human was concentrating on the spirit, he rammed the dagger between the shoulder blades.
The wizard's eyes opened wide. His mouth worked soundlessly, but he remained upright. But it was enough. The spirit roared in fury and brought his foot down, crushing the human into the ground. Blood seeped through the soil, but was quickly swallowed again as the land took it's payment. The Treeman looked at Ilthar, and the elder Waywatcher bowed deeply. The spirit nodded, something akin to gratitude, or perhaps respect, in it's eyes. Then it faded back into the night. The other spirits did the same. Ilthar looked around. There was no evidence that a battle had ever been fought here.
Ilthar chuckled softly. Such was the punishment for humans like these. Turning his back on the clearing, he vanished into the night. |
