Chapter Two

[Mythonian]

CHAPTER TWO

They made their way into the circle of wagons, and everyone was already whispering and looking, trying to see if it really was an elf. Gregor paused to make sure he was still being followed, and then headed straight toward a small gathering of three women off to one side. The elf seemed to pay no mind to the stares and whispers of the rest of the group. Those Gregor was approaching were a midwife, an elderly cleric’s assistant, and a younger girl of twelve who was the granddaughter of the elderly one.

These three were the only ones in their caravan who had any actual experience dealing with bloodshed, particularly Elda, a former cleric’s assistant. Years ago she had worked with a doctor in the town of Trannyth before marrying Gregor. Since then she has travelled with the caravan, and has been essential every time there was an accident or injury.

Elda grimaced as she looked at the wound, even as the elf still approached cautiously. “May I take a look?” she said as she stepped toward the elf. Without even waiting for a response, Elda was testing h ow the elf’s left arm could move, trying to see how badly the tendons were damaged. After a few moments, “We can clean the wound just fine, but this will take some time to heal, several weeks at least… Please, sit down over here.” Elda guided the elf a few more steps.

The midwife, Mari, stood between them and the rest of the caravaners, blocking most of the stares, even though the elf still seemed to hardly notice them. Elda and her granddaughter Seraphi began cleaning the wound. Any spare moment she had where she wasn’t handing supplies to Elda or holding something, Seraphi stared wide-eyed at the pretty elvish face in front of her, seemingly awestruck.

After a few minutes of this, Seraphi worked up the courage to speak, “A-a-are you really an elf, m-miss?” In reply, she got a gentle smile, which gave Seraphi some confidence. She spoke again, “Thank you for helping us.”

The three women introduced themselves to the elf, trying to be as welcoming as possible. After a moment, the elf finally spoke again, for the first time since she came inside the caravan circle, “I could never abandon someone in need. I’m just glad no one else got hurt… You can call me… Alithana…”

Alithana’s right hand came up to her head, and Elda saw that she was sweating. Elda quickly felt her brow, and her eyes widened. She spoke loudly to the caravan, “Where’s the arrow she was shot with? Bring it here, quick!” Seconds later Alithana lost consciousness. Mari, the midwife, caught her from falling and laid her down slowly, a concerned look on her face.

After a moment of confusion, one of the younger boys ran forward. He had been with Jorba’s group and grabbed the arrow off the ground after the fighting ended. Elda grabbed it and stared at the tip. During the sudden commotion, Gregor had started walking in their direction, and she turned toward him, “This arrow is covered with poison! We need to get her to Foabur now!”

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Gregor’s mouth fell agape, but he immediately turned to the caravan and began spouting orders to get everything packed up immediately. He had most of the supplies moved from the lead wagon into the others, and a group of them helped lay the elf into the now-empty wagon.

Within a few minutes they were heading down the road south again, toward Foabur. It was past midday now, so they would be arriving at dusk. Elda and Seraphi stayed with Alithana in the wagon, and Gregor and another man rode up front.

As they neared the town, the road leading to it became more crowded. People going to and from the various farms and outlying houses were on the road now, and the large caravan would normally be slowed greatly. Instead, Gregor took his wagon ahead and Jorba led the remainder of the caravan steadily toward the town.

Splitting from the rest of the caravan allowed them to make it to the center of town in good time. Gregor had been to Foabur several times before, and knew where the cleric lived. He went straight there, dodging farmers and citizens in the road the entire time. Many people let out cries and complaints as they rushed past, and some man with a large wolf beside him just got out of the way and stared at them.

They reached the house of Vicril Milner, Foabur’s only cleric. The other man sitting next to Gregor, Mareak, immediately went inside to inform Vicril of the situation. Gregor, Elda, and Seraphi carried the elf Alithana out of the wagon and inside.

Vicril was accustomed to visits at any hour, so he hardly batted an eye. Gregor immediately spoke out, “Poisoned arrow fired by a bandit, around midday.”

Gregor held out the arrow for Vicril to examine if needed. He looked at it a few moments and then responded, “How long did it take for symptoms to develop?” They were laying the unconscious elf onto a bed now

Elda spoke this time, “Maybe ten minutes or so, and it was so sudden when they started to show…”

Vicril finally got a good look at the patient as they laid her down on a bed, and he was stunned. “Is she…”

“An elf?” spoke Gregor, “Yes, yes she is, but for now let’s keep it to ourselves. No idea how people will react.” After another moment of hesitation, Vicril pulled himself together and reviewed the information about the poisoned arrow, narrowing it down to which poison it could be.

“It sounds like it’s Otiroot Extract. It can be found in the wilds, which could explain how the bandits had access to it. Since it’s common in the area, I should have the antidote, wait here.”

As Vicril rushed off, Gregor turned to Mareak, “We can wait here, go ahead and take the wagon and get rooms at the inn for everyone,” and he handed him enough gold for the rooms needed. Mareak took one last look at the unconscious elf and then turned and left.

A few minutes later, Vicril returned with the antidote and administered it.

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Alithana slowly opened her eyes. In the next few moments, she used her hearing and sense of smell to determine that no one was in the room, but some slow breathing let her know someone was sleeping on the far side of the room. Slowly, she sat up on the bed and surveyed the rest of the area. Outside the nearby window was darkness. However, for her, night was more comforting than the day, and even in the darkness she could make out the trees and buildings outside.

The room was dimly lit by a few scattered candles, and noting a few crude instruments and medicinals, she realized this was likely a cleric’s home, and she suspected that the other person sleeping was a patient. Everything was plain and dull looking, compared to Elvish craftsmanship. It was her first time being in a human settlement.

Looking at the sleeping person across the room, she could tell he was a younger man, with his left arm covered in bandages. Trying to move her own left arm, she found it difficult. This shoulder injury would be troublesome.

The pain was there, but through strength of will she overpowered the pain, trying to force the arm to move. It was sluggish and weak, but it would heal, and even with a single arm she wasn’t in any real danger against human opponents, so she relaxed a bit and thought back to the fight.

She had underestimated the human bandits that time, not expecting an archer skilled enough to land such a shot to be there, but he would never get another opportunity to do that. After being shot, she got a good look at him: blue eyed, dark brown hair, leather armor, and starting to show the signs of aging. She would remember his face.

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Suddenly, the person lying in the other bed across the room let out a low moan, likely from the pain of his injury. He opened his eyes and glanced around a bit, trying to figure out where he was. He sighed loudly after a moment, then painfully sat up and continued looking around the room.

Eventually he focused on her, staring at her. He was utterly silent, obviously not expecting someone else to be in the room. For a moment, he appeared to want to speak, but then suddenly turned away and laid back down on the bed, facing away from her.

She turned her legs to the side and stood up onto the ground. Her Elvish armor was thinner and lighter than leather, but tougher and form-fitting, allowing easy movement. The cloth armor was colored as black as night. Her staff was nowhere to be seen in the room, but she headed toward the door leading out of the room.

The young man didn’t make any other moves and continued to face away as Alithana walked outside into the cool nighttime air. Taking a deep breath, she collected her thoughts:

The others will probably be coming after me by now… Just obscuring my presence from scrying won’t be enough, but staying in a human settlement might be a good hiding place, as they won’t be eager to get spotted by humans. I think I can turn this to my advantage and find a way to reach Triln…

She walked around the buildings, getting a basic lay of the land. It appeared to be a small town with a few dozen larger buildings in the center, surrounded by a variety of homes. After a time, she returned to the cleric’s home.

The boyish man with the arm injury was asleep now. She was not experienced with any healing magic to do anything to even ease the pain, so she went back to the bed she was in before and laid down. Adjusting her hair to hide her ears, she entered into a half-sleep until morning. She would know if anyone came near, but no one did and the sun soon rose.

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Vicril the cleric woke up early as always. The first thing to do was to check out his son. A boar had done a number to his left arm, and Vicril was doing all he could to avoid it from getting infected. Thankfully a strange woodsman with a large wolf had saved his life and brought him here early into the night. He was eternally grateful to the man, as Trailo was his only son.

Trailo was sleeping fitfully, but he didn’t have a bad fever and wasn’t sweating, so Vicril suspected that no infection had set in, thanks to the stranger immediately covering the arm with salves and bandages before even bringing him back to town.

Vicril turned to the other patient, the strange elf that came in with the caravan. She seemed to be sleeping soundly now that the poison had been neutralized. He was still shocked that he would get to meet an elf once she awakens. He looked at her in the early morning light, perhaps the most beautiful women he has ever seen, but she looked quite young, way too young for him.

From what he heard from the caravan’s leader Gregor, she was an incredible fighter as well, although Vicril had no idea if that was to be expected from an elf. Breaking away, he went to prepare some breakfast for his two patients—one his son and the other an elf.



TO BE CONTINUED…