Private Tales The Neverending Road

[Shrike]

Just Outside Falwood

The door to the Tramping Pony swung open and a tall figure entered. The dim lantern light of the interior cast shadows on his face, revealing the scars that webbed across pale skin. He had gray eyes, like steel, and hair the color of a fox pelt, which was soaked and matted to his head. Despite the scars, his face had a timelessness to it, as if he could be twenty or forty all at once. Pointed ears poked through the fringes of his hair, confirming he was an elf. He wore a rough ranging coat and carried a bow in one hand and a dripping bag in the other. A quiver of arrows sat on one hip, a curved shortsword on the other.

It was raining outside.

The inn had few occupants the elf made his way to an empty table, on which he tossed the dripping back and his bow, before heading over to see the innkeep behind the bar.

"I need a room," he rasped.

The innkeep nodded, "Ok, ten coppers for the night. What'd you catch, rabbit?"

A droplet of water beaded down the elf's nose.

"Bigger." The elf took out the coin, plus another five, and tossed it on the counter. "Ale and bread."

Then he went and sat at the table, a brooding expression on his scarred features.

 

[Fraeya]

She had...nothing.

Anirian guards were after her. She had a bounty on her head from Elbion. She'd been stripped of everything when she'd been picked up by those dreadlords: her supplies, her weapons, her food. Fraeya just had the soaked clothes on her back. Fingers couldn't stop rubbing at the welts and bruises the bindings had left on her wrists. Cuts still healing on the flesh of her palms.

Lavender hair looked darker wet. Pink highlights muted with rain. Water streamed down the small crystalline, shimmering scales near her hair line that went down to the corners of her eyes. Nearly invisible unless caught by the light. Or the right angle.

The elven girl didn't care about her own sorry state. She just cared about the one she'd lost. The one she was connected to.

Ember. Where are you?

Dragging footsteps brought her past the wide-windows that looked out from the Tramping Pony. It was the approaching guards on horseback with Anirian colors that drove her inside.

 

[Shrike]

The copper-haired elf drew out a small lyre from a leather satchel. The innkeep brought over the ale and bread. The elf just nodded and took a sip from the tankard. He tore the loaf apart, devoured half in between gulping down the ale, then he leaned back in his seat, closed his eyes, and began to pluck a tune on the lyre.

The soft notes danced about the darkness of the ill-lit inn, mirroring the melancholy of the pattering rain outside.

"Well played, elf," grunted one of the four other patrons in the inn. The elf did not open his eyes to acknowledge the compliment, but simply continued to play.

The door creaked open, letting the pouring drizzle and another traveler came in from the cold.

 

[Fraeya]

Lavender eyes dredged in weariness glanced about the small tavern. A few humans. One half-orc. Another elf with flaming orange hair like a sun dipping beneath the horizon. She couldn't help bristling slightly.

Fraeya didn't have good experiences with humans but she could argue it was the same with elves. After all, when her tribe in the Falwood had been invaded by those human mage hunters, no one came to their defense as the humans took all the magical elf children away. No one helped them.

Elves were about as trustworthy as humans in Fraeya's mind. She was better on her own.

There was an open seat by the fire. Footsteps left small puddles as her drenched form walked across the wooden floorboards as she took a seat. Fingers traveled up and down her arms, trying to rub warmth back in them. Worried gaze couldn't pry away from the door. She didn't know what she would do if those Anirians scouts came in this place.

She thought about warning the other elf but that thought quickly disappeared from her mind.

 

[Shrike]

The lyricist's nose twitched as his fingers danced across the strings. That smell. Another elf then? His eyes cracked open and he looked half-lidded across the room at the elf who stood by the fire. She was drenched and shivering and kept glancing back toward the door.

Keen ears picked up the trod of many hooves outside the inn.

He glanced from the door, to the elf, and back again.

"Hm."

 

[Fraeya]

The door to the tavern slammed open. Fraeya flinched but remained seated, her back to the door. This town wasn't controlled by Vel Anir but it was rumored that their armies were advancing. Towns nearby had already reported acts of war.

The head of the guard would point a meaty, gloved finger in the direction of Fraeya and Amros.

"You and YOU. Gonna need to question you both. Escaped prisoners in these parts. Murderers."

Fraeya finally turned, slowly.

What was keeping her and perhaps the other elf from being bound and gagged? Vel Anir hadn't moved this far with their war machines. It looked like she managed to escape just outside their official boarders. And no one from the joke-of-a-trial was in this company. No one recognized her from the escape.

"Hop to before I make you come over here."

 

[Shrike]

The music stopped abruptly, the copper-haired elf's fingers poised over the strings.

His half-lidded gaze settled on the man. His uniform was Anirian, but far from home. The girl by the fire looked terrified.

"Come on then," growled the human.

The scarred elf didn't move.

"No," he rasped, then plucked out a few more notes on the lyre.

 

[Fraeya]

The guard stepped forward, unsheathing his sword with a hiss from the scabbard.

"Doing it the hard way then."

A tinted-lavender brow rose on Fraeya's fair skin. The few other patrons in the tavern backed away. Had the fear of the Anirians really reached this far? They were so close to the Falwood. The barkeep looked like she wanted to say something. Remind the Anirians they had no jurisdiction here.

But the woman silently continued to dry out the ale mugs.

The guard with the sword flanked Amros. Another one went up to the man with intent to rip his instrument physically from the elf's hand and toss it aside. Then get a gloved hand around the elf's shirt collar to haul him off his sorry feet.

A third from the company approached Fraeya.

"Now YOU. You meet the description of the one we're looking for. Purple hair. Escaped convict."

"I think you're mistaken," Fraeya nearly spat. Pointed ears twitched. She was tired. It would be difficult to use her magic now, even with nature's energy always around to some extent. Still, the invisible energy of magic buzzed at her fingertips.

 

[Shrike]

Rough hands ripped the lyre away and threw it to the floor, where a boot stomped on it. Strings snapped and wood broke. A guard with a pinched expression and nasally tone grabbed a fistful of the scarred elf's shirt and hauled him out of the chair.

Amros stood there limply, staring at the wreckage of his lyre.

"That was a mistake," he rasped.

"What'd you say, you stupid knife ears?"

Amros' eyes flicked up to meet his gaze with eyes as cold and merciless as edged steel. There was a blur of movement and a sharp crack. The man with the pinched expression stumbled away from Amros holding a broken arm and letting out a screech of pain.

The swordsman swung at Amros, who stepped back neatly back. The blade whistled through the air where he'd been, tip nearly brushing his stomach. The elf moved forward before the backswing could start and threw a lightning quick punch into the man's throat. The guard dropped his sword and fell to both knees, holding his neck and wheezing.

"Hey-" the third guard turned around from where he'd been harassing the violet haired elf and made as if to draw his sword.

Amros scooped up his bow from the table, nocked, drew, and loosed in a single fluid motion. The arrow went through the man's kneecap and he went down screaming.

Grey eyes studied Fraeya for a moment.

"How many more of them?"

 

[Fraeya]

Fraeya blinked. The flaming-haired elf was a lot more interesting now. He'd moved so...fast.

"Four," she breathed. The magic at her fingertips was still there. The screaming and cursing of the guards on the floor. She could see the guards dismounting in the light, cold drizzle outside. There was one dressed all in black. He looked like a boy. Younger. She didn't know what that meant.

Specially trained and armed?

No sooner had the number left her mouth did the door to the tavern and inn yank open. Swords drawn. The black-clad boy stayed back. For a moment, her eyes locked onto his beyond the pane-window glass. There was a sudden invisible force around her shoulders. No - her entire torso and she suddenly became airbound, snapped forward toward the windows.

 

[Shrike]

The girl flew toward the windows, drawn by the power of the boy outside. Amros could feel him seething in the magical current, an invasive presence.

Amros knew he would only get one chance. He pulled a second arrow from the quiver, knocked, and drew, sighting down on the face beyond the glass as he pulled the fletching to his ear. He exhaled, breath running along the arrow shaft, wrapping around it and becoming spectral visage that flickered and shifted like a mirage.

His fingers let go of the string and the arrow sped forth, humming through the air before its iron head met the window. Glass shattered. The boy held up a second hand and shards of window pane and arrow exploded into tiny fragments that stopped mid air, inches from him. But the spectral shape that had wrapped around the arrow continued on, ghostly shaft slipping through the hollow of the boy's neck and then shooting out the back. Disappearing.

Nothing happened for a moment, then the skin around the boy's throat split open. Blood began to bubble out and he sank with a croak, trying to stop the arterial spray from pumping out his life.

 

[Fraeya]

Glass exploded, tiny fragments burying themselves into her hair and skin. Eyes closed and she felt the invisible grip loosen around her form, then release all-together as she skidded to a halt just before being dragged through window and wall. Her form slumped to the ground as the boy outside sputtered and clawed at his throat.

The other three guards charging in the room were met with the ground beneath them suddenly opening up and then re-hardening around their legs. There was a snap as some of their bones too the brunt. Gauntlet-covered hands clawed at the ground, trying to wrench themselves free.

Fraeya tiredly lowered her arm, the magic from her work on the earth beginning to take a toll. Blood dripped down sharp cheekbones from shards of glass that were hard to differentiate between the shimmering scales of her skin. Warm pink lips like elderberries pursed thin as she turned to the scarred elf with the sunset hair.

"Why," she breathed. "Did you help?"

With a thud, the boy in black outside collapsed to the ground.

 

[Shrike]

The guard with the broken arm kept screaming, so Amros kicked him in the head.

He looked over at Fraeya, expression like a bored panther.

“They broke my lyre.”

 

[Fraeya]

Fraeya reached up and winced, picking glass particles from her face.

He answered more like what she expected from a self-serving elf. Fingers flicked the shards away. With a push up, she was standing again, brushing her damp clothes off.

"You were playing flat."

 

[Shrike]

Amros snorted.

"Liar."

He began picking up his gear, but left the shattered lyre where it lay. It was no use to him anymore. He would have to make another.

Gray eyes caught those of the bartender's.

"Sorry about the mess."

He flicked the man several silvers.

Turning, Amros strode away, leaving the dreadlord apprentice wriggling in the muck and clutching his throat. He might survive, but Amros didn't intend to be here when the child soldier made a full recovery.

He stopped and looked over his shoulder at Fraeya Elwing.

"Let's go."

 

[Fraeya]

Fraeya looked up, pale eyes blinking in his direction.

She couldn't keep the surprise off her weary face. What. Eyes shifted to the scrambling guards. She couldn't shake the look of hatred they passed her way. Nor the way one of them was still scrambling to pull his sword from his scabbard, even with a broken arm and leg.

The girl stepped through the broken windows and into the street, giving the black-clad boy a wide-berth.

"What makes you think we're traveling together?" She called at his back.

 

[Shrike]

“Because you’re following me,” he rasped over his shoulder.

He adjusted the strap of his satchel and quiver, then checked the string of his bow. Undamaged by the fight, so far as he could tell.

“And because they’ll be hunting me now too.”

The scarred elf walked over to one of the Anirian horses, a nice roan. He held his hand out, let her catch his scent, then hoisted himself into the stirrup.

“Mount up.”

 

[Fraeya]

Dark brow arched along her forehead at his retort. Of course she was following him. He was headed toward the only horses she could steal. Fraeya approached a horse all in black save for a white spot along his nose. The horse immediately came up and nuzzled against Fraeya's shoulder.

She had a way with animals and nature - always had.

Now humans? They were a different story. Same with elves.

"Oh, your name is moose," she whispered against the stallion's ear. He whinnied and stamped his foot. Giving him a scratch, she went to his side and pulled herself up. "You act as though this is your first time hunted by humans. Perhaps you are a young elf."

She didn't think he was. Too many scars that healed the best they could with time.

Without waiting for him to set a course, she and Moose took off. She'd planned to go Northeast along the Tumbara River and that was where she was headed. Had to take the road out of town and then split off into the woods in order to get there, first. Let them travel together. As long as he followed the path she sensed where she would find Ember again.

 

[Shrike]

He urged the horse to a canter until he caught up with the girl, then slowed to a trot to match her speed. Push the horses too hard and they'd lose more ground than they gained on the morrow.

She had the urgency of youth and he had never seen her before. He wondered just how young she was as elves rarely bore children. Yet, he said nothing as they rode along, the road carrying them farther and farther from the scene of bloodshed.

Amros began thinking of what wood he would carve his new lyre. Perhaps a maple this time.