The Elves of Loth

Prologue

Dappled, golden light filtered through the shifting leaves and made its way to the forest floor, while shadows flitted around the mossy earth in constant movement. Silently, three shapes fell from the trembling branches above, coming together to form what appeared to be a hunting party of sorts.

The stern-faced elves tensed, listening as the sounds of the forest and its inhabitants, carried on the soft breeze. For a moment, they were silhouetted against the brightness above, as they waited for their prey.

“It’s probably long gone by now Shear-sight. Should we camp out here and head out again tomorrow, or turn around? We could probably make it back to Loth within a day or so.” the smooth-voiced figure stepped up behind the leader of the group, his stern gaze coming to rest on the female elf as she shifted her weight, listening. The silence stretched out between them, leaving an uncomfortable feeling hanging in the air. The tall, broad elf who watched his leader had the strong build, confident posture, and ability to take orders of a warrior. His presence amongst the other elves indicated the impending threat of whatever they were searching for. With his eyes, he probed her, seeking any indication of an answer.

He paused, taking the opportunity to draw in gasps of air, his shoulders rising and falling with each heavy sigh.  Slowly, the third elf, younger than the other two, leaned back against the thick trunk of a nearby aspen, stretching out his cramped calves. Although the warrior stood tall, his feet firmly planted in the mossy earth, his forehead was dampened by sweat.

“I need an answer,” he prompted, “I can’t kill what you can’t find.”

Still, Shear-sight stood rigid against the soft breeze, taking in her surroundings until, finally, she muttered, “It’s not far from here.” The simple comment sunk in immediately, making the other two elves tense in anticipation, muscles ready for whatever their next move may be. “Oak-blade - stay close.” She commanded with an unwavering voice. Then, without hesitation, she strode forward, her light frame allowing her to flow silently across the soft ground. The unnatural grace of her movements isolated her as a huntress since none of the others showed the same traits. Her companions followed in a similar manner, their movements less smooth, but baring the same lightness. 

Although he continued to progress efficiently, the smaller of the two teenage boys was more on edge than he had been before. Keeping alert, he followed the others, trying to keep up with the new pace Shear-sight and Oak blade had set.  He willed his uneasiness to pass. Eyes darting back and forth, he scanned the corners of his vision, clenching his fists.

Several strides later, a rustle in the thick brush made him freeze, “Wait.” He alerted the others, slowly turning towards the forest behind them. Despite its normality, he quickly spotted the imperfections, his trained eye noticing the minute details. Oak-blade - in his coat of lightweight elven armour - placed his right hand on his sword, ready to draw, while the youngest elf continued to analyse. A sparse scattering of leaves had fallen from the aspens above, and the shadowy undergrowth seemed a little darker than it should be. After a moment’s hesitation, he declared “Dark elves!” That was all it took for the unseen army to emerge, lunging at their unsuspecting victims with jagged bone knives and other unsavoury weapons. Some held metal shards or half melted swords, while others aimed twisted, poison-tipped arrows at the small troop of forest elves. Dark, smoky, crippled armour clung to their bodies, making them heavy and depriving them of speed.

The combat-ready foes advanced, stumbling over tree roots and dodging trunks. Without hesitation, the warrior pulled his long, leaf green crystal blade and stepped instinctively forward to protect his younger companion who looked fearful but determined. He loosened a dagger from his belt and, clutching it as if holding on could free him for the horrifying scene, held his ground. Unlike the wise huntress and lean warrior, his expression was one of shock not anger, his grim expression containing a hint of fear. In the few seconds before the dark elves could reach him, the heavily armoured teenage fighter braced himself like boulder, placing him and his sword between the attackers and his more timid accomplice.

With a glint of anger in her eyes, the head forest elf reached back to retrieve a deadly arrow from her sheath, couteracting the attack. With trained fingers, she mounted it in her bow, and from there her impeccable aim took over. Firing again and again, she took down a trio of their enemies, relishing the satisfying twang of her bow, before a thick, shrill, scream filled the air. The sound was short-lived, but it was enough for her to risk a glance back at her comrades, turning just in time to see the younger of the two boys drop to the ground with a heavy, sickening thump.