UNSHEATHED

Chapter Forty Eight

The stench of decay wafted past her horse's nostrils making him stamp the ground and bob his head up and down as if to release the tension on his harness.

"Shhhh, old boy, I smell it too. It won't hurt you." Elena stroked the stallion's neck. It wasn't at all a pleasant smell. It came from the direction of the lake. Elena only began to smell it as she came around to the far side of the encampment where it was closer to the body of water.

Elena felt it was important to check out the guards she had ordered posted just to be sure they understand the importance of their position. If she made the point to inspect the guards now, they would be more likely to stay sharp in the future. She approached the posted watchmen for this section of the camp.

"Sentryman, report."

He snapped to attention. Apparently, she had disturbed whatever daydreams he has been having. He was dressed in the same dark blue that she wore. One of her own from Castillon.

"Enough daydreaming. The enemy is on the prowl, your eyes and ears are all that will keep us safe." Elena held his gaze for a moment. The man stiffened and saluted.

Good. He understood. If he had tried to make excuses, he would have demonstrated a lack of appreciation for the value of his work.

Elena rode on, searching for the next sentry position. The stench grew even worse, for she was almost upon the lake. It was a good thing that they hadn't chosen to camp any closer. The man posted here noticed her as she rode into view and saluted sharply. This pleased her.

"All clear?"

"Yes, Field Marshal. All clear."

She was about to continue on to the next post when a sound caught her attention. A scratching noise echoed across the plain as the night air amplified the sound. Elena turned her horse about to face the lake, the direction the noise was clearly coming from. She withdrew her sword, holding it ready as well as a horn that she kept slung across her shoulders. Its particular sound would bring a swift response from any soldier within earshot, if she had trained them well enough. She turned back to the sentry.

"Remain at your post."

She urged her horse forward into the darkness. The sound had become even louder, as if it was approaching her position. She lifted the horn toward her lips but stopped before blowing. In front of her appeared a dozen tiny waifish children wearing tattered clothing and covered with filth. Their eyes were sad and empty of hope. A small girl with hard eyes approached with a tall stick in hand. As she stepped, she lifted the staff and planted it, each time making a scratching noise. Elena, not wanting to be surrounded, as her horse had an aversion to children, cleared her throat to speak.

"Hold your place."

The girl continued to approach.

Her horse backed up a step and snorted.

"I said, hold your place!"

The girl shook her head. She didn't understand.

Who were these children? Elena remembered that they were surrently in Gildhadest. Surely they would know the common tongue of the Empire? But perhaps these children didn't. She tried to think of what other languages might be spoken here. They should all be dialects of Common. These children should understand her words.

The sentry stepped forward a few paces.

"They must be children of the Gelhirinim."

Elena couldn't think what that meant. The soldier went on.

"They don't talk, the Gelhirinim, they have a language of hand gestures."

Her horse took several more paces back as the group of children advanced. Elena didn't know the language of hand gestures, but she could try universal gestures she used when signalling from a distance. She held out her hand, palm facing forward. Surely they could glean 'stop'' from this?