Prologue
Jared saw the smoke on the morning two days from his farm. The breeze had picked up from the day earlier, and it brought the smoke trail above the tree line. It was the wrong color for a cooking or campfire, and there was too much of it. As he gulped his caf, he figured on how far it was to the source. It would add at least a day to his trek home, and he would be too late to help the victims. The smoke was black as the pitch that was a part of it. It was the remains of a building, someone’s home. As he neared, he knew that he would smell the burning seasoned wood, the clothes, and the victims. Shaking his head, he broke camp, and mounted his horse.
Twice in one week, things were getting worse.
Late that evening, he came upon the outskirts of the remains. He could see the burnt fields, with the slaughtered livestock gathering carrion. As he rode through the fields to the burnt shell, the birds scattered, spreading filth and screaming at him. Jared’s breath shortened as the smell off the carnage hit him. What he saw was worse that he expected.
It wasn’t a single farmstead, it was a village. Several huts still stood, but the burnt-out shells of larger buildings outnumbered them easily. Survivors were piling salvage from the ruins, tending wounded, and generally wandering with lost looks on their faces. Most of the faces he saw considered him with a mixture of fear and curiosity. None held hope in seeing him.
The bodies he saw scattered were varied, young and old, large and small. Many were still smoking. His eyes quickly picked out the malformed bodies of those not human. Orcs, ogres, and orogs spread among the remains. Typical raiding party from the mountains, but they never traveled this far west.
“Ho!” a man walked up to him, clutching a pitchfork in his hand. Jared smiled and lifted his hands, holding the reins lightly.
“I saw the smoke, came to help,” he explained.
“Came to loot, you mean.”
“Yours isn’t the only village in the region that has suffered this season. I saw a similar case only weeks ago, in Eagles Crest, past the hills. They were hit before sunrise, by a large band of demis from the mountains west of here. I’m heading home from trading, and your village is too close for comfort. I came to see if I can help, and to find out what happened. I don’t want to be unprepared when I get to my home.”
“They were heading east. You?”
“They’re heading back home, I guess. My farm is to the south.” He chose not to comment on his likely good fortune.
The man snarled, “No-one lives south of us. It’s forest for days. Haunted by creatures large and small, natural and not. You’d have to be a fool.”
“Yes, they tell me. I’m a fool, or stupid, or crazy.” Jared’s laugh was easy. “May I help? I have some experience tracking…”
“We don’t want to know who they were or where they’ve gone. They killed dozens, burned us out, killed the animals, and burned the fields! My boy died trying to fight. We won’t hunt them.”
Jared recognized the sounds of a mob when he heard the crowd behind the man. He watched as they herding a small boy before them. He child’s hands were tied behind him. He nudged his horse towards the commotion.
“He was a member of the raiding party. We captured him, and he’s going to die for the crimes.” The man didn’t sound vengeful. He sounded regretful, actually.
“Demis don’t bring their young on raids. And I’ve never seen one so small…”
As they neared, Jared saw the bag over the body’s head. He quickly noticed the thinness of the limbs, the small stature, and the straight back.
“Hold up!” his voice lashed out, quiet command lacing the sound. He walked his horse up to the bound figure, and pulled of the bag.
This was no boy.
“Hello, lord.” Jared smiled, and then spoke loudly, without looking away from the angry eyes staring at him. Dark green eyes. “Why have you captured an elf? Do you know the penalty? You will have the anger of a kingdom against your village!” He dismounted, and moved behind the young elf to free him.
“He was with them! We found him after the battle!”
“Really? Your village must have an extraordinary blacksmith. These manacles are remarkable quality. Could he step forward to help me get them off?”
He looked up when he heard no answer. The villagers were looking at him.
“The manacles wee already on him, huh? But, you believe that he was a member of the raiding party, bound like this.” He held his anger in check; these weren’t bad people, just fools - scared and angry.
The sword that he pulled from the scabbard on his saddle chimed as it cleared. It seemed to capture the remaining light and glow on its own. As always, Jared heart ached when he held it.
He turned to the youngster, and bade him kneel. He toed a scrap of wood between the elf’s hands, and asked him to grip the brace. One blow severed the restraints. With the breaking of the chain, the cuffs opened on their own.
“Fire and blood, “ Jared winced as the cold iron fell from the wrists, the angry welts of its burning glaring up from the thin arms. The young elf looked up at him, with no emotion but anger.
“I have some salve for that,” he smiled at the elf, “ at home.” With that he looked up. “No one objects to his coming, of course.”
The villagers were looking at the sword, at the symbol softly glowing from the face of the blade. The symbol of an army disbanded, but legendary. The symbol of a promise.
“No, no. Of course not.”
He lifted his new charge onto the saddle, and climbed behind him. He turned his horse south, towards home.
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The RudeDawg
Known in these Forgotten Realms as Perin LightEyes
[This message has been edited by RudeDawg (edited 04-28-2001).]
[This message has been edited by RudeDawg (edited 04-28-2001).]