Forgotten Guardians
Chapter 27

Miranda sat a top a ridge and gazed out at the setting sun. Four days of fighting, cuts, and bruises and she was tired beyond compare. The horde was relentless. The first attack started two days ago when the horde tried to breach the outer defences. Eventally the horde broke through the elven lines and forced the elves in retreat. Instead of fortifying their position the horde pushed further into elven terrioirty with abandoned ferocity. They seemed crazed and rapid even for orcs and goblins, as if they minds were not their own. This was her first chance to sit and watch a moment of peacefulness in the world surrounded by chaos. The sun sank beneath the horizon as Josan made his way up the ridge. He also showed signs of the turmoil. One of his legs, where he had taken a goblin spear, was tightly bandaged, and his clothes were covered in mud and blood. Despite his appearance, he still looked like death made flesh. He made his way to the ridge and sat down next to her.

“Are you alright?” Josan asked Miranda quietly trying to hide his concern.

“Yeah, just needed to replace a quiet place to think and enjoy of all the things I used to take for granted, like the sunset,” Miranda said still watching the sky fade from pink to purple.

“Is this what you had in mind for an adventure?” Josan asked as he too looked out over the sky.

Miranda shrugged her shoulders. “It’s a long way from farm life. I guess that farm girl really is gone,” she said with a heavy sigh.

“I still see the same beautiful girl I saw on the road that day, sitting here with me watching a sunset,” Josan said without looking away from the setting sun, hoping the fading light hid the redness on his face. He had not meant to say any of that, but Miranda had a way of making him speak without thinking.

Miranda smiled and laid her head on his shoulder and watched the last of the rays of light vanish beneath the horizon.

Soon after the stars started to shine, a young elf maiden topped the ridge. “Master Josan, Lady Miranda, you are needed at the camp.”

Josan and Miranda stood and quickly followed the elf maiden down from the ridge to a small makeshift campsite. The cook fires were started and the smell of meat and roasted vegetables filled the air. The camp sight was the like nothing he had ever seen. The land around the tents and fires seemed not have been touched. The camp site mimicked the city in its natural appearance, to where it was almost became impossible to see unless you knew what you were looking for.

Grumbles and curses came from two small tents on the edge of the camp.

“I’m not wearing it and I like to see you try to make me,“Frathe’s voice came from one of the tents.

From the other tent a depressing moan echoed out. There was no mistaking Grimmly. Aielia stood in front of one of the tents trying to put a stern face forward, but her eyes showed with amusement.

“It can’t be that bad, quit whining and just put it on.” Aielia said trying not to laugh. “Are you almost done yet Grimmly?”

Grimmly poked his enormous head out of the tent, pulling the flaps tight around his neck so no one could see past his head, “This is indecent. No gentlemen would be caught dead in this,” he said with a pitiful look. Aielia arched her eyebrow menacingly and he lowered his head, pulled back the flaps of the tent and stepped out. Miranda’s eyes bulged and Josan tried to stifle back a laugh. The giant who could teach a royal court the finer points of fashion was dressed as if he had never seen clothing before. A simple bear skin covered his chest with one strap across his left shoulder holding it up. There were no pants, only the end of the bear skin hanging open. He stood in front of Aielia like a child being punished.

“I do not know how my kin can wear such things. It is intolerable and it itches like crazy,” Grimmly said as he started to scratch all over his body.

“You look fine,” Miranda said with a small laugh as she and Josan approached the tent.

Grimmly gave a disheartened grunt and continued to scratch.

“Frathe are you almost ready? It shouldn’t take this long,” Aielia said with a repermanding voice.

“I’m not wearing this, I look ridiculous,” Frathe barked back.

“Do not make me drag you out of there,” Aielia said as she folded her arms.

After a few grumbles and mutters too soft to be discerned, Frathe’s tent flap whipped open and Frathe stepped out wearing only a small ragged loin cloth.

“The first one who laughs gets an arrow in the butt,” Frathe said narrowing his eyes at them.

Aielia spun around to hide the laugh trying to escape. A small smile crept to Josan lips as he stared at his little friend. Miranda tried to swallow the laughter in her throat as she spoke, “You look absolutely adorable.”

“Don’t push your luck girly,” Frathe said as his face darkened.

Aielia turned around and composed herself, “So the plan is ready, Grimmly, Frathe you know your jobs, replaces out as much as you can, especially about who is in command. Josan will be ready for your signal. He will create a distraction so you two can get out. Remember we need as much information as we can get about them, why they are here, what they want, everything. Good luck and may the spirits of the forest protect you.” Aielia nodded to Grimmly and Frathe.

A few miles off, another elven camp had been set up as a mobile hospice. Healers ran about fetching bandages and salves for the wounded. The number of the injured increased every day, but there were few deaths. The tents were filled to the flaps with those needing medical attention. Lady Maylen rushed around attending the more seriously wounded individuals. Uuger trailed her every step. She had appointed him her personal assistant. She had to admit Uuger knew his way with salves and potions. He carried around a little satchel which held everything she would need and was always had the item in hand before she could ask for it.

Lady Maylen was sitting on a stool stitching up a wound on an elf’s arm when one of the other healers came rushing in followed by three elves carrying a fourth. They quickly laid him on a nearby cot. Lady Maylen left her stitching to another and rushed over to the new arrival. A small bolt stuck out of the left side of the injured elfs chest and his color was fading. She quickly examined him and was puzzled at his slow heart beat. She gently pried the bolt free; upon looking at it she realized the reason. Her hand almost went numb with shock. She only knew of one species who used such bolts like this, a small black shaft dipped in poison. Dark elves. She looked back down at the man as tears welled up in her eyes. There was nothing she could do for him, the poison was very strong and worked quickly.

Uuger jumped up on the head board and studied the elf. The elf’s breathing became shallow and his color faded more. He looks up at Lady Maylen, “Nice Lady need to help elf, or elf die.”

She wiped away the tears as she spoke, “I cannot help him the poison is slowing his heart down until it stops. I have no cure to counteract it.”

Uuger looked back down at the dying elf, mumbling to himself as if going through a list in his mind of herbs and potion. Suddenly his head jerked up and he darted towards the shelves holding supplies. He started to rummage through the bottles and boxes, smelling some, lasting others until he found what he was looking for. He grabbed a water skin and jumped down and scurried back over to the dying elf.

At first Lady Maylen had no idea what Uuger was up to until she saw the powder that he was pouring into the water skin. “Uuger, no, that is to much cats’ tail. It will give him a heart attack.”

“Uuger know what Uuger doing,” he said as he shook the water skin. Slowly he started to pour the reddish liquid into the elf’s mouth.

“Uuger, you’re going to kill him,” Lady Maylen pleaded as she reached for the water skin.

“Elf going to die, Uuger knows what Uuger doing,” he snarled as he jerked the water skin from her reach and started to pour little more into the elf’s mouth. He capped me water skin and through it to the floor. He knelt down and placed one of his big ears to the elf s chest. With a sudden jerk the elf started to flay about. His arms swung about wildly and his chest heaved up and down. The three elves that had brought him in quickly pinned him to the cot as his body spasmed.

“What have you done, Uuger?” Lady Maylen whaled as she tried to prevent the elf from swallowing his tongue.

“Uuger knows,” he said as he held down the elf’s head with his talon hands.

After a few moments the elf started to calm down. The elves release him as his breathing became deep and slow. His color started to return. Soon it looked as if the elf was sleeping rather than dying.

Lady Maylen quickly examined the elf once more. She turned and stared wide-eyed at Uuger, “How did you know to do that?”

“Master Weldon says, ’Sometimes you have to fight poison with poison?” Uuger said as he stepped down from the bed.

Lady Maylen was at a lost for words as she watched Uuger scurry off to help someone else.

A few leagues away in a small border village, with only a few houses and a inn, the Army of the Light patrolled the streets as the few villagers outside scurried by with downcast eyes. The patrol paid the villagers little mind and were under strict orders to not disrupt the townspeople unless necessary, likewise the villagers barely paid attention to the soldiers as they were more concerned with the large horde camped a few miles away. At the far end of the small village sat a simple inn, the new headquarters of the army. Inside, in one of the private dining rooms Vander sat reading over reports. Several candles flickered off the dark stained wood panels walls. Maps and reports covered the long, high polished oak table. Several chairs lined the table and were stacked with more books and maps. Charkic sat to the side of Vander in a high backed chair with one of his legs laid over the chair arm looking over reports on food supplies.

A small knock at the door brought Vander from his reading. A moment later Parlon walked in and strolled to the table. A small sneer spread across Charkic’s face as the wizard approached. Parlon walked to Vander’s side, with a wind of irritability.

“General, I have news from the elven horde,” Parlon said trying to sound humble. Vander looked up from his report with uncaring eyes. “The elves have started to attack them.”

Vander leaned back in his chair with a small grin, “Well, what did you expect? What would you do if you found a goblin sitting on your doorstep? The horde is merely to keep them busy until I have control over the Arlon.”

“I see,” Parlon said in a icier tone than he intended. He bowed and started to walk to the door, “Oh, before I forget, I have been informed of something which might intrigue you,” he said he looked over his shoulder.

“What?” Vander said reading over his reports, only half listening to the wizard.

“One of my agents from the elven horde,” he meant one of his dark elves, “has brought back a description of a man you might replace interesting,” Parlon waited for Vander to look up from his papers before he continued, “A man in black with two swords very similar to yours, I’m told. He is accompanied by a large silver wolf.”

Vander nearly jumped from his chair, “Josan,” he spat the name. “So the elves have allied with a greater evil to fight us. The elves have slipped from the Light and been corrupted by the shadow. They must be destroyed, but tell your men Josan is not to be harmed, I will deal with him personally.”

“As you wish general,” Parlon said trying to hold back a grin.

Suddenly a solider poked his head through the door, “General?”

“What is it?” Vander snarled.

“The messenger is back from the Arlon, General,” the solider said quivering with fear.

“Send him in,” Vander said, trying to calm himself.

The solider ducked out and a moment later a dust ridden solider walked in, he knelt before Vander, “My Lord, I bring news from the king.”

“Well, what is it?” Vander said as he sat back down.

“He says,” the solider paused and licked his lips, “He says, under no circumstances shall he submit to you.”

Vander sat in his chair staring past the solider with hatred boiling in his eyes.

Parlon stepped forward, “General, I think the king needs an example of your strength.”

“For once I agree with the wizard,” Charkic spoke from his chair.

Vander sat, still staring past me soldier unmoved, “We shall show the king our power. Charkic, ready your men, Parlon, do the same. We march.”