A Spark in the Wind

Chapter 05: A Haunter in the Dark

The footsteps neared: a mail-clad shadow advanced towards them. Curious, for no mere patroller would stroll the woods clad in mail. Like coiled vipers the two took position, aware of all that was around them, until the intruders stepped out of the green girdle.

They were not patrollers, nor soldiers of the king, but two tall and slender beings with ashen-grey skins, raven-dark hair, pale-green eyes and dark ringmail – Mey and Vil had lived through so many battles that they could not have mistaken them: chaos-elves. Maybe once elves of the high or wood-elven strain, but now a shadow of their former selves, revived via chaos energies and imbued by evil powers – a most horrible form of undead. Their very sight was enough to make them loathe elvenkind.

Beside them was a hound of equally loathsome origin: a chaos hound, a vampiric daemon bred to sniff the sources of arcane energy and end them with their bite and claw. The creature's small wings fluttered continuously creating an annoying sound as it sniffed the surrounds.

"Do you smell that," one of the chaos-elves said in a cold voice, drawing in a deep breath.

"Aye," said the second one, letting his chaos hound around. The beast lowered its head and sniffed the earth, almost discovering Vil, but thankfully distracted by Mey's mundane smell.

"Must be a dead stag," replied the other chaos-elf. Mey checked his breath, much to his annoyance. But at least they didn't assume the stag was already eaten. "Don't bother with it," they said, "there are many things here that are of the like."

"I don't think 'tis a dead stag . . . I smell elf."

"Must be a patrol, nothing the two of us can't take out."

But no . . . they were taken aback by what sounded like the twitching of wood and breaking of twigs, beckoning them that they were not alone. "Aye," they nodded to each other, drawing their swords out.

...

Hearkening to the closest sound, the first one leapt upon a bush and plunged his sword into the girdle, only to very closely miss a hare prowling in the shadows, heeding not their plight nor their paranoia. "We're going mad," the other one replied, "we need to stop being so paranoid, who would find us here-" he gagged aloud.

As the other elf looked back, he saw chaotic bile dripping from his companion's throat. The chaos hound growled menacingly and prepared to leap, but Mey jumped down and pinned the beast to the ground with his knee and his dagger around its grotesque throat.

As the other elf looked in confusion, Vilyánur revealed himself. "Be gone, foul dwimmerlaik!" he shouted, "we do not tolerate your kind on our lands!"

The elf looked back, snarling in the most horrid manner. "Never should have come here!" he leapt at Vil with his sword unbuckled. A lofty swing fell upon Vil, but he deflected the blow with an angled parry, plunging the tip of the metal into his foe's neck, killing him in one blow.

Meneldir positioned his dagger to slay the beast, but Vil stopped him. "No! Let him go! I will mind control him to act as our tracker."

"Fair enough," said Mey as he lifted himself off the beast. Vil cast a low-intensity lightning strike upon the beast.

As the arcane powers quelled with its brain, the hound changed its allegiance. "Sit," said Vil, the hound followed his command, wagging its tail and barking back happily.

"Where did your previous masters come from?" asked Vil, the beast barked back and ran off into the wild. Moving in circles and barking at the two to follow.

"After him!" commanded Vil.

*****

Crossing the dense thickets of the forest, Vilyánur and Meneldir happened upon a host of chaos-elves wandering the clearing. Twelve in number they were: two warlocks, two archers, eight spearmen (and three hounds), some clad in meagre fur and others mail, all of them ash-skinned and green-eyed. "Oh fie," Mey sighed, seen by an archer before he could hide.