The trees were changing, Ashyn noted as he climbed up a steep passage of clay and stone. The wizard looked below at the thick green heads of white oaks, elms, and a few staggered conifers, trees he had known all his life, from his time looking at the outskirts of the Shalis-Fey, from both Bremingham and from Czynsk. This is what he thought the Shalis-Fey was. He was wrong; it was so much more.
Even the maze, dreadful memory that it was, had comprised mostly elms and oaks. Now, as his gaze traveled up the steep trail that he was climbing, he could see something very different.
As Ashyn crested the top of the rise of stone and earth, he could see stands of dogwood, sugar pine, and white fir. But it was beyond them that caused him to gawk.
Sequoias.
Ashyn had read about the monstrous trees in the tomes of the Onyx Tower, but seeing them now so close, he suddenly felt very, very small.
Each trunk was, to his closest guess, about thirty feet in diameter, and the trees soared high overhead, perhaps close to two hundred feet. Some of the limbs above looked to be wider around then he was tall. He never thought he would see trees on such a scale.
Ashyn realized then that he was in a part of the Shalis-Fey that few humans ever saw. He had no idea the forest was so massive, so dense. He felt almost a fool for setting off into the woods in the hopes of finding a city that most travelers took for a myth. There was no way such a wild people could be civilized enough to form anything more than clans, they had told him.
“Keep up Lefhym!” the elf yelled from above, snapping the wizard out of his entranced state.
Ashyn chased after Jenhiro as the nimble Wild Elf tore across the treetops. Now that the ground was somewhat level again it made it easier to keep up with the skilled Ferhym. Still, the young wizard panted, his breaths labored. Jenhiro moved at this asinine pace for three days.
The apparition that pursued him was relentless as well, and seemed to have the same unending stamina as the Wild Elf. It didn’t matter if Ashyn climbed, hiked, or sprinted through the flatter portions of the forest, the Ferhym remained just ahead of him, and the beast was always close behind.
Sometimes it would catch Ashyn off guard, striking violently with light and stone. Other times, they would wait for it, then drive it back with spear and arrow.
Any reservations Ashyn had about hunting this sentient skewer were wiped away the second time it had tried to kill him. There was no negotiating with the specter. It wanted him dead, no questions. Ashyn tried to appeal to it, and it wouldn’t even try to hear his words. That was when Ashyn decided that Jenhiro was right. They needed to stop it.
The more Ashyn fought the thing, the more he wondered if the Seven sent it. Was this the wizard-hunter designed to kill recreants? Ashyn didn’t know, and was glad for Jenhiro’s intervention. The boy doubted he would’ve survived the last three days without him. He just wished the Wild Elf wasn’t always running, swinging through trees, whatever! Why couldn’t he just walk every once in a while?
Even their camps at night were swift and labored. Four hours of rest and then move for an hour or so, sometimes doubling back to make confusing tracks, and then rest again.
Ashyn understood the ploy. He left tracks; the Wild Elf didn’t as long as there were trees he could use. So Jenhiro improvised to keep their hunter off-guard as much as possible.
He wished he knew what he was fighting. Jenhiro seemed to have some idea, but he would never divulge it. In fact, after the first night Jenhiro would speak of nothing else but the hunt. He never even asked Ashyn for a name, only referring to him as tree-brother, or Lefhym occasionally. It was as if the Wild Elf was keeping himself intentionally distant from his partner. Or his bait, Ashyn thought sourly. Could he really put it past the Wild Elf after all he knew them capable of?
Suddenly Jenhiro cartwheeled between two trees, breaking left. Ashyn skidded, kicking up wet leaves and clumps of clay as he altered direction. On his back, Ginger held on for dear life.
Not all was negative about the Ferhym though. Spending time with Jenhiro was giving Ashyn a new appreciation for the Wild Elves. Regardless of their zealous fanaticism regarding balance and skewers, they truly were accomplished trackers and hunters. And their agility? Some of the things he witnessed Jenhiro doing in the last few days were mind-boggling. Ashyn had no doubt that if he tried anything like what the Wild Elf did, he would be dead with a broken neck on the first attempt.
The staggered pattern of Jenhiro’s movements also caused Ashyn to give up on what direction he was going. Were it not for the matter of the fact that an unstoppable shade hunted him relentlessly, he would have questioned Jenhiro’s tactics long ago. But whatever Jenhiro had in mind, thus far it kept the wizard alive.
That is, alive until enough of his body hair grew back. Already he could just make out the light stubble on his arms. If Ferhym really studied him, he would see it, and then the ruse would be up. He was lucky his hair was light and his skin dark.
Still his face would give him away first. Ashyn had wiped the sweat from his face earlier that morning, and felt the rough texture of sprouting hair on his chin. It felt like a sharpening stone. Ashyn pulled the hood tighter over his head.
Just then, Jenhiro let out a shrill whistle like the cry of one of the tree-dwelling rodents that Ashyn saw. It was his code. It meant warning.
Immediately Ashyn let go of his hood and drew his bow. He nocked an arrow, and kept moving. Gradually he slowed his run to a light jog. He was going to need his energy.
The woods grew deathly quiet as the predator approached. The sequoias stood tall overhead, casting a deep shadow over him, like a disapproving parent over a rambunctious child. Ashyn raised his bow up to eye level, searching for his camouflaged assailer.
Splinters of light cut through the canopy way above, creating pools of illumination around him. In the eerie silence, Ashyn watched as tree pollen drifted lazily in the slicing beams across the forest floor. The pollen was thick like snowflakes in the lambent stringers. Ashyn was grateful he didn’t have allergies. The air was dense and musty.
He waited, ears perked, grey eyes scanning the forest, looking between the natural paths for any signs of movement. Watching. Waiting.
This was vastly different from when he and his father used to hunt game. Back then, he would try to stalk his prey, draw it out, and strike. Now he was the prey. The proverbial doe awaiting the slaughter. He thought of Jenhiro in the trees again and the queasy feeling grew in his stomach. He definitely was the bait.
It wasn’t as if Ashyn had much choice in the matter. This thing was hunting him, whether he wanted it or not. It had the advantage. Jenhiro needed it to move on Ashyn first. It was the only way to fight it. Knowing that didn’t stop Ashyn from feeling that all of this was bullshit. This hunter disrupted everything. It put him on the run for three days when he needed to be finding Feydras’ Anula. He could only imagine the unspeakable atrocities inflicted upon his sister, and here he was running from a ghost in the woods.
A ghost that left no tracks or traces of blood. No clues other than the occasional broken branch or two. How was he supposed to stop something that he couldn’t see, couldn’t track, and wouldn’t bleed? All without his magic.
Something cracked behind him. The cat on his back grew completely still. Slowly, Ashyn pivoted around, his bow at the ready.
Dense foliage encircled him. Thick flora hanging about obscured much of what he saw. And the vines, always the vines. The vines hung and dangled like snakes, twisting and writhing before him, waiting to snatch him in their grasp.
The environment seemed to always favor the shadow-creature. Always giving it something to impede Ashyn.
The wizard studied the leaf-strewn ground before him, hoping, waiting to see something. A movement, a smear on the surface, a rock shift, a line cut through the moss. Anything at all. But there was nothing to give Ashyn a moment’s advantage. There never was.
Then it happened. Ashyn saw out of the corner of his eye as a series of stones lifted from the ground. He dove into a roll just in time to escape three stones crashing against a tree just behind where his head had been. The tree groaned as bark splintered from the impact of the fist- sized rocks. Wooden shrapnel peppered his back, his leather armor and travel pack absorbing much of the blow.
As Ashyn finished his roll, he drew a shot and fired. His arrow hissed through the air and buried itself deep into a tree. In the blink of an eye, another arrow was placed against the bow, his fingers taut against the drawstring. His eyes devoured the scene before him, memorizing every nuance of plant, tree, and rock. If anything were askew, he would see it.
He swept his bow cautiously from left to right as he took it all in awaiting the next movement from his assailer. Above him, he felt the presence of Jenhiro growing closer, returning, after hearing the sound of stone on wood.
Next, Ashyn watched as the vines came to life. He was growing used to this tactic. They slithered from the trees, weaving across the ground like constrictors ready to trap their prey.
The first lashed forward, and Ashyn rolled. As he did, Ginger leapt from his back, hissing and spitting, attacking the snake-like vines in a fury.
Ashyn loosed the string on his bow, holding the arrow still, and drew his rapier with his right hand. He came up to his feet and stepped forward. The wizard may not know how to engage in a melee with the weapon, but he could chop up stupid vines with it. He swung wildly in front of him severing the vines from their overhead perches, while Ginger stayed on his side, keeping them from flanking the duo. He was growing to appreciate the cat.
A whistle cut through the air above him again, and Ashyn looked up from the snake-vines. Spotted again. But where?
Suddenly the gossamer-like being filled the air before him. Nothing more than a translucent shell of a monster.
Ashyn dropped his rapier, drew his bow, and fired. The arrow flew through the air and struck the insubstantial creature. He stared at it, as he had with every encounter so far, confounded as to how it would not bleed. The arrowhead disappeared into thin air. While the shaft and goose feathers floated ominously in empty space, as if controlled by an unknown force.
Ashyn saw something like this before, once, when he was a child. When Bremingham burned, and his family died. A creature, invisible, had saved him from an orc, and later pinned him to the ground. This thing though was not looking to protect him, but kill him.
The shadow roared, shredding Ashyn’s memory, and the ground came alive at his feet. Leaves lifted from the surface, spinning and twirling in a whirlwind of vibrant color and chaos. Blinded by the wet, flapping leaves and bramble, Ashyn fell back. They slapped roughly at his arms, and face, sticking to his body like cold, wet leeches. He drew one more arrow and fired haphazardly into the curtain of flora. It missed by a wide margin and was quickly taken up into the twister.
Ashyn watched as the arrowhead that embedded in the camouflaged creature suddenly slid out from its invisible perch and fell into the spinning maelstrom. Again there was nothing. No mark, no mar on the surface of the beast, and no blood. “Ginger!” he yelled.
The yellow-eyed cat made a final swipe at a vine, and then turned and leapt at Ashyn just as the wizard spun low to grab his rapier. That cat connected lightly against Ashyn’s flank and clung to his leather armor with its sharp claws. In a fraction of a second, the feline scampered across his back, to its perch. Wasting not another moment in front of the ghostly monster, Ashyn turned and ran. The chase was on.
~ ~ ~
Jenhiro watched it all from above, tracing his prey as it stalked the Lefhym. He didn’t relish using the Lefhym as he did, but it was that or return to Feydras’Anula, report his failure and deaths of his branch, and possibly lose this skewer before a new branch was after it, a branch of his kin that might also die in the same horrific manner as his had. That was answer enough for him. Besides, he thought, this Wood Elf in red had a surprising knack for survival.
Being elevated from the fighting gave him a far better vantage when it came to seeing the hunter. He could see the unusual movements of patterns from on top that one could not see facing it directly. Like a piece of a puzzle sliding over the piece next to it.
Starting out similar for only a second before becoming something drastically different. Jenhiro knew that it wasn’t invisibility that the creature used. It was a type of camouflage. Like a chameleon. Only infinitely more powerful. It was able to shift into multiple colors simultaneously, not just one.
But overhead the colors didn’t seem to adapt as quickly, and that gave Jenhiro the advantage. That and the unbalancer’s rampant desire to take out the Lefhym first.
Perhaps it was because Jenhiro was elevated, that he felt he was harder to get to, or perhaps it was because the thing saw something different in the Lefhym. Was this tall, clumsy elf somehow more powerful than Jenhiro? He couldn’t see it, and yet the skewer was adamant in taking the Wood Elf first.
Jenhiro kept pace easily with the running duo down below, watching, waiting for the best moment to strike at the wraith. He knew that every minute he delayed put the Lefhym at risk, and yet he wanted to make sure he really hurt it. Though he could see the target, he wanted his aim to be true. Effective. Deadly.
Thus far the skewer seemed impenetrable to his javelins and poisons. Now all he had was his spear and dozen makeshift javelins made from sturdy branches. They were a pathetic attempt, but he had little options.
That brought the gnawing sensation to the back of his mind that he needed to return to Feydras’ Anula. Or at least to a remote settlement of his kin to rearm and get help. He was afraid if he did though, he would be putting his people back at risk. Or lose the creature who was defying everything he had ever been taught.
Thoughts of Sendea’s crumpled form materialized before his eyes. He already overestimated skewers once. After two winters he had grown brazen and overconfident. He had lost his humility, and it had cost him dearly. He didn’t want any other to suffer for his poor judgment.
Jenhiro shook his head. No, he would do this with the Lefhym, or they would die trying. He would not endanger anymore of his people. He would either come home a victor with powerful knowledge of a skewer and a weapon, or he would die for the cause.
He continued to chase after them noting that the Wood Elf was heading directly for the thickest sequoias. Jenhiro led them here, hoping to use the size of the trees of the Upper Grove to his advantage. He was happy to see the Wood Elf obliging him. Mirthlessly, he remarked to himself, “Let’s see you hammer me off this trunk.”
He scaled up the thick bark, grabbing large solid handholds. Every hoist pulled him higher up the tree, but further away from the battle. Through gritted teeth he whispered, “Hold out a bit longer.”
When he finally reached a branch almost two feet in diameter, he pulled himself level and continued to run after the two below. They were almost six hundred meters away from him, but easy to follow. He needed only to chase the whirlwind of leaves and needles that was pursuing the Lefhym.
Jenhiro jumped wide and far, sailing out into the open air almost twenty feet before landing gracefully on another thick branch and continuing his movements.
He looked at the ground far below. He was fifty feet up. Already he could see the trail below covering up the tracks of both the Lefhym and the skewer. How it was capable of such a feat he didn’t know. Another perverse trick from its stolen magic he decided.
A roar pierced through the air once more. Must’ve been a good hit, Jenhiro thought of the Lefhym and his bow. “Just wish it would bleed,” he grumbled as the two finally came back in sight.
Indeed, it had been a good shot. Jenhiro could see an arrow shaft buried almost to its goose feathers in the center of the camouflaged skewer. Still no arrowhead protruded from the other side, nor was there any sign of blood. It was an abomination against nature itself.
But the Wood Elf had done it! A wound that deep, the arrow would stay awhile. Now he had something solid to aim for. A true target amidst the blurred form. Good work, tree-brother, he thought as he caught up to them and lined himself up easily above it. He removed his sharpened makeshift javelins and set about throwing them. Jenhiro smiled as the first of the sticks bore home with a satisfying thunk.
~ ~ ~
A surprised mewling sound erupted from the shadow beast behind him. Ashyn risked a glance backward and was heartened to see over half a dozen sticks protruding from the shade. It looked almost like a porcupine.
Immediately he pivoted on his right foot, using his momentum to spin around. He lined up the form and fired. With a thwack another arrow disappeared within. He nocked and loosed repeatedly as it closed the gap to him. One successful hit followed another. It was a floating pincushion. Its movements slowed.
We’re actually doing something! he thought gleefully. For the first time since the hunt began, they had done more than the occasional hit and run.
More sharpened sticks pelted the form. It staggered, but still came forward. Ashyn backpedaled a few steps just out of its reach and loosed two more arrows. The last hit scored a cry from it that he had not heard before.
The shadow tumbled to the left, crashing hard into a sequoia. Many of the sticks that protruded from it shattered at its impact with the tree’s trunk. Others bore deeper within. It mewled once more, and for the first time Ashyn thought he recognized the sound. The swirling assault of leaf and pine straw fell apart as the spell failed. The debris dropped to the ground gently around him.
Ashyn took a step towards it, no longer fearing the creature in front of him. He could see its silhouette clearly against the tree. An outline of arrows and javelins marked the top of its exceptionally wide muscular frame. The wizard nocked an arrow and aimed where he now believed the head to be. Then he saw them.
Eyes. Keen, intelligent, amber eyes. They looked at him, worn and tired. This was his chance. He could finish it.
His hand shook as he fought to hold the string back. For some reason he couldn’t let it go. In his mind he saw himself release, he could hear the successful thwack of the arrow. He could see the arrow point bore between its eyes. Watch as they went glassy and still. His pursuer becoming no more.
But its cry resonated in his head. He knew that sound. If it was a hunter from the wizards, then the similarities were very coincidental. Ashyn didn’t believe much in coincidence. It was something else. Something seeking revenge for what he had done.
He heard the sliding of flesh on bark as the Wild Elf behind him skittered down the tree. Soon Jenhiro would arrive and do the deed for him. What choice did he really have? Would the Wild Elf make it as painless?
The string bit hard at his fingertips. Just release, he said to himself. This thing wants you dead. It wouldn’t hesitate on you. Still, he stayed his hand; he just couldn’t release. Finally, defeated by his own conscience, Ashyn lowered the bow. A wizard values all life, he told himself.
His eyes connected with the creature’s and they both had a moment of understanding. It knew Ashyn spared it.
He felt Jenhiro approaching behind him, just as a strange white mist rolled in from between the trees. The thick miasma coalesced quickly around him and the approaching Wild Elf, once again blinding the duo. But Ashyn knew that he wasn’t in danger, not this time at least.
Jenhiro appeared next to him spear in hand. “The Ssewer has fallen,” he said matter-of-factly.
Ashyn nodded, and looked to where the beast had been before the mist covered them. Suddenly Jenhiro lashed out with his spear towards the body before Ashyn could react.
A loud crack reverberated in their ears. Ashyn saw a perplexed look come over the Wild Elf who saw the target seconds before the haze covered them.
Slowly the fog thinned, and the form solidified in front of them once more. When it did, Ashyn couldn’t help but shake his head and chortle.
There, against the sequoia was a knot of wood. All the javelins and his arrows protruded from the large bulge of hard timber. His hunter used its surroundings to escape once more.
He saw the confusion turn to rage on the face of the Wild Elf. “This abomination’s treachery knows no bounds!”
Ashyn though, wasn’t so sure. He recognized its cries. He heard it before. Instead, he looked down to the elf before him. “At least it learned something valuable.”
Anger boiling in his eyes, Jenhiro looked up, “And what’s that?”
“It knows now that we can defeat it. And if we can defeat it, it knows we can kill it. Blood or not.”
The words seemed to lighten Jenhiro’s rage ever so slightly. “It will think twice before attacking elves.”
Ashyn nodded as the Wild Elf walked away. He hoped that was true, but somehow he doubted it.