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CHAPTER TWO

A deep sense of grief washed over Gyre. In front of him, mangled and bloody lay the body of his best friend. The corpse of Kel was stiff from rigor mortis, and his limbs lay tangled. He had a large cut in his side and his throat was slit. His sword was in its sheath. Gyre’s face flushed red with anger. His best friend had been ambushed and slaughtered mercilessly by orcs. Murder. The word burned in his throat. This was the scene of a murder. Kel’s undrawn sword was proof of that. Gyr felt sick. He had seen plenty of dead bodies, some grotesquely twisted and mangled. Gyre remember a young soldier who he had come to like. It the Battle of the Nail, the young man had been swarmed by a group of orcs. Heavily outnumbered, he had not lasted two minutes. When Gyre found the body, it was twisted in a way that put the soldier’s head in his armpit. A hand was missing from the young soldier and his neck was slit. Chunks of flesh had been torn from the body and devoured by the merciless orcs.  Gyre had tried to untwisted the soldier, but the rigor mortis had prevented him. That was the only soldier he had ever cried over. Such a young life, mangled and torn. Made stiff by death.
Gyre did not feel tears coming to grieve Kel. He only found a thirst for revenge, stirring in stomach like a pit of snakes. Venom tearing through with only one desire: vengeance.
Then Gyre felt something else. Actually, he heard it. It was a song sung a high elvish voice. It cut through the air, but in a smooth way. The old elvish words poured over him. He did not know the language. But he knew it was for Kel.
Gyre turned. The voice came from Gelwyn. It washed away with anger and smote the vipers in his stomach. Gyre dismounted from his horse. He approached the rotting corpse of Kel. The stench of death hung in the air. Gyre stood above the body. He bent over it and pulled Kel’s sword from its sheath. He placed it on Kel’s lifeless chest. Gyre straightened. He turned around just as Gelwyn finished her song. Everyone stared at him.
“Well, we cannot linger here. We are on a mission.” said Gyre. He mounted Falcon and rode deeper into the woods. The sound of additional hoofbeats told him that the others were following him. Gyre let them catch up.

As night fell, the group stopped beneath a high terebinth oak. Gyre dismounted and unsaddled his horse. He lay the saddle on the ground. Noaden started a fire while Gyre and Andwise collected firewood in woods. Gelwyn scouted the area for enemies.

Andwise cooked a supper of sausages and fried mushrooms. Gyre ate heartily. As the sky darken and the stars began to glimmer in the velvety blackness.

Gyre climbed into the limbs of the great terebinth oak. He settled down to sharpen his knife in the highest limb of the oak that would support his weight. Gyre rubbed the edge of the knife backwards over a stone, occasional blowing on the blade to remove any particles of metal that had been removed from the blade.

“I’m sorry for your loss.” said Gelwyn. She had scaled the terabinth oak so silently and gracefully that Gyre had not even noticed that she had settled down on a limb right next to his.

“Thank you for you song.” said Gyre. Gelwyn simply nodded.

“How long did you know him?”

“Since I was a boy. We were best friends. I used to get him in the worst trouble. But he kept on following me into mischief. We both enlisted in the army. He was appointed to the high position of guarding the Elfheart. I remember being jealous of his lofty place. But, being a captain had its perks. I’m pretty sure he was jealous of my rank as well.”

Gelwyn drank it all in.

“So, you the sister of the Elfheart, eh?” said Gyre, turning the conversation towards Gelwyn.

“Yeah. She’s my younger sister. I was very surprised when she was chosen to be the Elfheart, and not me. I was also envious.” Gelwyn turned her head and looked up at the stars. She seemed to not want to talk about it anymore. Gyre quickly changed the subject.

“And you’re a knife thrower? Bet you can’t slice a twig from that cedar over there!” said Gyre. The cedar stood about fifteen yards away. Gyre stood on his limb and positioned his knife blade between thumb and forefinger. He pulled back his arm and spun the knife vertically. It flew threw the air and cut a small twig from a long branch.

Gelwyn, not to be outdone, pulled a knife from the brace hanging from her waist and put a vertical spin on it, cutting through a whole branch.

“Nicely done! You’re a much faster draw then me.” said Gyre, complementing her throw. Gyre climbed down from the tree to retrieve the knives. Andwise was stoking the fire and Noaden was sleeping. Gyre climbed back into the tree and handed Gelwyn her knife. He put his in its horizontal sheath.

Gyre settled down on the limb. He glimpsed over at where Gelwyn had been, and found that she had climbed back down the tree without him noticing. Gyre began to fall asleep, and was soon out cold.

Gyre woke with a thud. He was falling, and hitting large wooden clubs as he fell. He woke up more with each time he hit a club. He began to realize that he was not hitting wooden clubs, he was hitting tree branches. Then, abruptly, he fell on a nasty great root. But the root was moving! it was Andwise!

“Ugh, get off me.” came a grumpty and muffled voice. Gyre rolled off of the perturbed Andwise.

“Sorry.” said Gyre.  Gyre stood and brushed himself off. He offered Andwise his hand. He accepted it and stood.

Noaden and Gelwyn burst out from deeper in the woods, weapons drawn. When they saw it was just Gyre and Andwise, that lowered there weapons.

“What happened?” asked Noaden.

“Gyre fell out of the tree.” said Andwise. Noaden tried to suppress laughter.

“Yeah, yeah. Laugh all you want.” said Gyre grumpily. Noaden was still chuckling as he lit a fire. Andwise cooked up a lite up a light breakfast of toasted apples. As soon as the they had finished eating, Gyre noticed that the sun had almost risen.

“Saddle up, double time. I want to be on the road before the sun rises completely.”

The elf and two men looked at him in amazement.

“You heard me. We should already be on the road. The enemy is several days and night ahead of us. The fact that these orcs attacked during the day means that they will travel both day and night. Let’s move!” Gyre said. He clapped his hands together. He kick out the fire and began saddling up Falcon. Gyre cinched the straps that held on the saddle. He made sure all his gear was attached securely. As soon as Gyre had finished saddling Falcon, he moved on to saddle Andwise’s horse. Then Gelwyn’s. By that time he finished saddling Gelwyn’s horse, the others were ready to go. Gyre checked the sky. He could see the entire sun. He mounted his horse.

“Saddle up, lets go.” he said. He dug his spurs into Falcon’s sides and galloped into the woods.

Gyre glanced over his shoulder to be sure that the others were following. They were. Gyre tucked his body into a more aerodynamic position and spurred on Falcon. He calculated how far ahead that enemy may be. They were two days ahead of them, and depending on how quickly they were moving, they could be several leagues ahead.

Gyre wondered who could have kidnapped the Elfheart. Gondolen had two neighboring kingdoms. Emen Syl, the heart of Elvendom lay to their north and west. Across the Silver peaks to the south was the mannish kingdom of Tunik. Both were friendly to Gondolen. Gyre considered the farther away nations to the north and south. To the south lay the lesser elfdom of Emen Ulwe, which was a small forest. Both Tunik and Emen Ulwe bordered the great eastern sea. The north held only one nation, the smallest on this continent. It was called Erybar. It was not even a quarter the size of Gondolen.

Also in the north was the warring tribes of men. These men were Noaden’s ancestors. There was always one war or another going on in the north. Often these wars lasted between a few days and several months.

Their current goal was to hunt down the kidnappers before the got to wherever they were going.

Gyre pulled back the reigns of his horse suddenly. He had spotted a slight dip in the ground. He dismounted and crouched next to the indentation. It was about a foot long, and half as wide. He ran his hand over it, noticing the crushed leaves inside the dip. Gyre moved away from the footprint, searching for more signs. He kicked over a pile of leaves. Beneath it was a pile of ashes. Gyre picked up a handful of ashes and smelled it. Still hot and smokey. He laid his ear against the ground. Distant vibrations thudded gently in his ear.

“There several miles ahead!” exclaimed Gyre. Then he heard another closer sound. Like dragging a rope on the ground, but heavier, and it was moving toward him. Gyre looked up. He stood next to his horse. Gyre remounted and rode back to the others.

“Something is coming.” he said. Gelwyn readied her bow. Gyre lead the others on. The forest was eerily quiet. There was no birds chirping. No small animals scurrying around in the undergrowth.

Gyre put his hand on the hilt of his sword. A huge snake with jet black scales, so black they looked blue, flew out of a nearby tree and tried to bite him. Gelwyn shot the snake out of the air. Snakes slithered swiftly out of the undergrowth. Hundreds of black-blue snakes surrounded them, seeming like they were a patch of intact skin surrounded by a large bruise. The largest of the snakes, at  least twenty feet long, began to rise in front of Gyre. Gyre drew his sword. Suddenly, were the snake was stood a man with dark skin. He had slits for nostrils and his eyes were yellow with a black slice in the middle. A rough scaly robe covered the man. When he bared his teeth, fangs could be seen. Longs knives from the snake’s waist. The blades of the knives looked like the fangs of a snake.

“Lamia!” exclaimed Andwise. Lamia. The snake people. They were the offspring of a failed experiment by an old wizard. He was trying to create and army, but the lamia rebeled against him and became a their own tribe. They possess the ability to turn from human to snake whenever they want. The secrete a deadly neurological poison from their fangs that allows them to control the bodies of their victims.

“What is your business?” asked the humanoid lamia. His voice did not hiss, as would be expected from one who is half snake. It was deep, and slippery.

“We are on a quest of great importance. I would be best of you to step aside and allow us passage.” Said Gyre.

“You cannot pass through our lands.” said the leader of the lamia.

“Your lands!?!” spat Noaden, “We are still very much in Gondolen!”

“Quite, Noaden.” said Gyre.

“These lands have been claimed by the lamia. We as a race need our own nation in which to live. You are trespassing on our-”

“You are the leader of the lamia?” said Noaden.

“Yes, I fought-” Noaden struck off the lamia’s head with a single blow. Silence covered the now ended parly, the last words of the lamia leader hanging in the air.

“What have you done?!” cried Gyre. The lamin horde broke out of the silence at the sound of Gyre’s voice.
“Kill them!” shouted one of the lamia. A thousand snakes lunged at Gyre, Noaden, Andwise, and Gelwyn.
Gyre unleashed his sword from its scabbard, so unleashing steel death upon the snake-people. The whispered death of his blade cut down several lamia within the first couple seconds. Gyre was known for his elfen way of fighting. Grounded from the waist down, but his upper torso was light and free. This allowed him to use sword in whirling slicing motions that would scythe through an enemy before they saw the weapon. This immensely efficient form of battle allowed Gyre to conserve energy by not constantly shifting his weight and and catch his foes by surprise. His sword was a straight blade typical of men, but the grip was long enough to fit three hands on. This gave Gyre the freedom to move his hands up and down the grip in order to perfect the arc of his sword and get the maximum amount of momemtum.
Noaden’s fighting style was similar to an orc or dwarf’s in the fact that his weapon was coupled with his immense strength in order to get large amounts of momentum in his attack, hacking through armor and bone. His sword had a common design among the northmen. A thin unsharpend blade for the first foot and a half, then a much broader blade, shaped like a trough. The added weight could give the sword enough momentum to crush its way through dragon scales.

Andwise used to typical fighting type of the Gondolen army. A shorter, heavier blade allowed to user to get in close and still use their weapon effectively. The weight gave some added momentum, but only enough cut through weak armor. This was not a problem, seeing as orc armor couldn’t hold a candle to the armor of the Gondolen warriors. A long knife was paired with the sword giving the wielder the greater advantage in close combat.

Gelwyn prefered the long range attack, useing a bow or knife to dispatch an enemy before they were in striking distance. The prefered bow of the most elves was made from a Wey heartwood. The heartwood of the ancient tree created a incredibly light weapon with huge amounts of power and a low draw poundage. The throwing knives had blades on both ends, giving it a frisbee like throwing style and the ability to scythe through several foes at once. They were worn lengthwise along a sash or belt.

Snakes and humanoids alike surged in a writhing mass around the four defenders. Gyre moved in fluid motions, cutting through snakes and humanoids in swift motions. A score of humanoid lamia sat in the trees, firing horn bows at the defenders. Gelwyn couldn’t dispatch them because she was fighting not to be swarmed the lamia. Gyre drew his short knife and hurled it at one of the archers. It connected, bringing the snake crashing down from the tree. Gyre fought his way over to Gelwyn. He the range where he could protect her from the onslaught of lamia attacking with spears and swords.