Chapter Text
Wind howled through the night, carrying a scent that would change the world. A tall figure lifted his head and sniffed the air. He looked human, except for his cobalt hair and cerulean eyes. He blinked in surprise. The message had been correct, they were here. Or was it a trap? He weighed the odds, then said icily,
“Spread out, hide behind trees and bushes. Stop whoever is coming.”
Around him shuffled 12 urgals with short swords and round iron shields painted with blue symbols. They resembled men, with bowed legs and thick brutish arms made for crushing, and whitish, metallic skin. A pair of twisted horns grew above their small, animalistic ears, sitting above a pair of eyes similarly colored to those of their commander. The monsters hurried into the brush, grunting as they hid. Soon the rustling quieted, and the forest was silent again.
The general peered around a thick tree and looked up the trail. It was too dark for any human to see, but for him the faint moonlight was like sunshine streaming between the trees. Every detail was clear and sharp to his scanning gaze. He remained unnaturally quiet, a long pale sword in his hand. A wire thin scratch curved down the blade. The weapon was thin enough to slip between a pair of ribs, yet stout enough to hack through the hardest armor.
The urgals could not see as well as the strategos, they groped like blind beggars fumbling with their weapons. An owl screeched, cutting through the silence. No one relaxed until the bird flew past, then the monsters stood soundly in the cold night. One snapped a twig with his heavy boot. The strategos hissed in anger, and the urgals shrank back, motionless. He suppressed his distaste. They smelled like fetid meat, and turned away. They were tools, nothing more.
The strategos forced back his impatience as the minutes became hours, the scent must have wafted far ahead of its owners. He did not let the urgals get up or warm themselves, he denied himself those luxuries too, and stayed behind the tree watching the trail. Another gust of wind rushed through the forest, the smell was stronger this time.
Excited, he lifted a thin lip in a snarl behind his mask.
“Get ready…” He whispered, his whole body vibrating. The tip of his sword moved in small circles. It had taken many plots and much pain to bring himself to this moment. It would not do to lose control now.
Eyes brightened under the urgals thick brows, and the creatures gripped their weapons tighter. Ahead of them, the shade heard a clink as something hard struck a loose stone. Faint smudges emerged from the darkness and advanced down the trail. Three white horses with riders cantered towards the ambush, their heads held high and proud, their coats rippling in the moonlight like liquid emeralds. On the first horse was an elf, with pointed ears and elegantly slanted eyebrows. His build was slim but strong like a rapier. A powerful bow was slung on his back, a sword pressed against his side opposite a quiver of arrows, fletched with swan feathers.
The last rider had the same sepia face and angled features as the other, he carried a long spear in his right hand, and a white dagger at his belt. A helm of extraordinary craftsmanship raught with amber and rested on his head. Between these two, rode a cadmium-haired elven lady, who surveyed her surroundings with poise. Framed by long green locks, her deep eyes shone with a driving force. Her clothes were unadorned, yet her beauty was undiminished. At her side was a sword, and on her back, a longbow with quiver. In her lap she carried a pouch which she frequently looked at, as if to reassure herself that it was still there.
One of the elves spoke quietly, but the strategos could not hear what was said. The lady answered with obvious haught, and her guards switched places. The one wearing the helm took the lead, shifting his spear to a readier grip. They passed the strategos’s hiding place, and the first few urgals without suspicion.
The strategos was already savoring his victory, when the wind changed direction and swept toward the elves, heavy with the urgals’ stench. The horses snorted with alarm and tossed their heads, the riders stiffened, eyes flashing from side to side, then wheeled their mounts around, and galloped away. The lady’s horse surged forward, leaving her guards far behind. Forsaking their hiding, the urgals stood and released a stream of blue arrows, the strategos jumped out from behind the tree, raised his sword in his hands, and shouted,
“Garjzla!” A blue bolt flashed from his sword’s tip toward the elven lady, illuminating the trees with a phthalo light. It struck her stead, and the horse toppled with a high pitched squeal, plowing into the ground chest first. She leapt off the animal with inhuman speed, landed heavily, then glanced back for her guards.
The urgals’ deadly arrows quickly brought down the two elves. They fell from their noble horses blood pooling in the dirt. As the urgals rushed to the slain elves, the strategos called out,
“After her! She’s the one I want!” The monsters grunted, and rushed down the trail.
A cry tore from the elf’s lips, as she saw her dead companions. She took a step towards them, then heavily cursed her enemies and bounded into the forest. While the urgals crashed through the trees, the strategos climbed a piece of granite that jutted above them. From his perch he could see all of the surrounding forest. He raised his sword and uttered,
“Boetk istalrí,” and a quarter mile section of the forest exploded into blue flames. Grimly, he burned one section after another, until their was a ring of fire, a half league across, around the ambush site. The flames looked like a molten moonlight crown resting on the forest. Satisfied, he watched the ring carefully, incase it should falter.The band of fire thickened, contracting the area the urgals had to search.
Suddenly the strategos heard shouts and a coarse scream. Through the trees he saw three of his charges fall in a pile mortally wounded. He caught a glimpse of the elf running from the remaining urgals. She fled toward the craggy piece of granite at a tremendous speed.
The strategos examined the ground 20 feet below, then jumped, and landed nimbly in front of her. She skidded around and sped back to the trail, blue urgal blood dripped from her fists, staining the pouch in her hand.
The horned monsters came out of the forest and hemmed her in, blocking the only escape routes. Her head whipped around as she tried to find a way out. Seeing none, she drew herself up with regal disdain. The strategos approached her with a raised hand, allowing himself to enjoy his victory prematurely.
“Get her.”
As the urgals surged forward, the elf pulled open the pouch, reached into it, and then let it drop to the ground. In her hands was a large ruby stone that reflected the chill light of the fires. She raised it over her head, lips forming frantic words. Desperate, the strategos barked,
“Garjzla!” A ball of blue energy sprang from his swordpoint and flew toward the elf, fast as an arrow. But he was too late. A flash of emerald light briefly illuminated the forest, and the stone vanished. Then the blue light smote her, and she collapsed.
The strategos sighed in frustration, and stalked forward, collapsing his sword into his own chest. It passed harmlessly into his body, disappearing into a branded S. He signaled for the remaining nine urgals to fall into ranks, the creatures obeying instantly, then strode to the elf.
Prophecies of paperwork and a dressing down spoken in a low mutter only he could hear rolled from his tongue. He clenched his thin hands and glared at the sky. The cold stars stared back unwinking, otherworldly watchers. Disgust curled his lip under his mask, before he turned back to the unconscious elf. Her beauty, which would have entranced any mortal man, held no charm for him. He confirmed that the stone was gone, then retrieved his horse from its hiding place among the trees.
After tying the elf onto the saddle, he mounted the charger and made his way out of the woods. He quenched the fires ringing the woods, not leaving his master’s lands to burn.