What Enchantment Hides - Book 1

Chapter 6

         Akira rode into the village and saw broken down and burned houses surrounding her. Her two boys rode a horse beside her. They were ten years old and five. Akira led them to their house. Jain dismounted and ran into the ransacked home.
         “Daddy!”
         “Jain! Come back out here!”
         After a thorough inspection of the house, Jain came out with his hands in fists and tears in his eyes. “They took him, mom.”
         “Jain, listen to me. Check the barn for a horse for Fallon.”
The other nodded and ran into the barn. He brought out a young, two year old mare for his younger brother. Fallon dismounted and Jain helped him get onto the bare back of the mare.
         “Now,” Akira began, “follow me to the outskirts of the village then we will break up and head to the nearest settlements. We can warn more people and save others from this if we separate.”
         The two nodded and followed her through the town a separate way than they had come. They passed bodies strewn everywhere. The boys were looking around at the chaos when Jain’s horse bumped into his mother’s. His head snapped forward. There, on the door of a building, hung their father. His grotesque form was horrible to the eyes.
         “Boys,” she said without looking away from the terrible scene, “Get out of here.” She was calm, but her voice was strained.
         The woman and two children kicked their horses and galloped from the building. They rode past the destruction and out into the open. From there, they split up, each going to a different settlement to warn of coming devastation and seek help.



         “How did you know?” Calya’s voice came across the campfire in the dark, breaking the quiet. Skara looked at her questioningly while Kikarii stirred the embers and added more wood. Crickets chirped and an owl cooed from a nearby tree. “How did you know who I was?” She asked more earnestly.
Skara looked up at the stars and snickered. “Neither of you took much effort in hiding who you are. It is almost as if both of you have been living in a box until now.”
         Calya searched the sky as if she would find some sort of wisdom there. The breeze blew strands of her hair across her face and she pushed it behind her ear and sighed. “We may as well have been. I was a fire dancer and Kikarii was a bull dancer. What made my identity so obvious, though? My name cannot be the most convincing giveaway.”
         Skara snorted and laughed mockingly. “Well with your clothing and what happened with your eyes in the tavern, it is absolutely impossible to question.” Now Calya looked confused and glanced at Kikarii for an explanation. He had none. Skara continued, realizing that neither of them had any idea of what was going on in the world. “The royal family of Kezna was allied with almost every city and village in the lands. In the far west and south Lowlands there are cities who are bent on war, but the king and queen had made peace with every ruler in the Highlands. He died fighting the kings of the Lowlands. But to see a girl calling herself Calya and wearing royal garb, with orange eyes is just something that never happens. And when you fumed at Kikarii for helping you without your permission, that definitely gave it away. When Traff asked Gammir if he saw it, he was speaking of your eyes and the resemblance to your mother. Gammir said it was unmistakable because only the royal family has orange eyes. Our villagers will follow you. We may not have warriors or horsemen, but we will be loyal to your rule, should your task come to completion.”
         The princess took some time to think over her words carefully. She felt foolish. How little she actually knew about the world she lived in. She had considered herself quite unsheltered, only to find out from a woman not much older than herself that she knew nothing; even of herself. She looked at Kikarii and spoke quietly, slightly embarrassed at their carelessness. “Kikarii… We should not use my real name in the coming days. Not unless we know beyond a doubt that we have an ally.”
         Skara snorted, trying to stifle her ridiculing laughter and be respectful. “I apologize, milady, but you look identical to your mother. Anyone who has ever seen the late queen of Kezna, or even just looked at the color of your eyes would have to be recently blinded to not notice. This may be your biggest advantage in the coming weeks as you travel back to your homeland.”
         Kikarii stood and stretched. “I should look for more wood so whoever is up during the night can keep the fire going.” He left the women alone, staring after him in the light of the fire. His mind wandered, going over everything they had found out about Calya and her mission and the state of affairs in her realm. Is this even possible? How are the three of us going to infiltrate the castle in Kezna and take the throne from the stewards who have reigned for almost twenty years? He rubbed the back of his neck with his hand and looked up at the moon and shook his head. He started searching for scraps of wood and sticks around the trees so he could return to the camp and let the ladies sleep for a bit. In the morning they could make a better plan for travel.
         He returned to the campfire to see the two women laying down. He put down his armful of wood and sat in front of the fire, ready to take the first watch of the night. Skara sat up a couple yards away. “Kikarii, sleep. I’ll take the first watch. I’m used to being up late from competing at the bar anyway.” He was so lost in his thoughts that he voiced no objection. He laid down, head on his cloak and closed his eyes. Sleep eluded him for a bit. Eventually, however, his eyes felt heavy and he drifted off to a fitful sleep.




         Calya woke up Kikarii and handed him a piece of fruit, a pastry and some cheese from the saddle bags. It was early morning and the first faint rays of the sun were painting the horizon with streaks of neon colors as if painted by a master artist. The morning was warm and there was wind - more than a slight breeze, but less than what would have been uncomfortable. Birds were singing their morning chorus and Skara was sitting on her cloak munching on her breakfast already. The horses were grazing lazily snorting to one another as they got close together before wandering a few feet further off to find unclaimed tufts of grass. Kikarii got up, stretched out his sore muscles, yawned and joined the ladies eating their breakfasts.
         “We should make a plan to skirt the potentially dangerous or unwelcoming cities and stay in areas where we can assume Kezna may still be friendly. We also should avoid traveling anywhere near Dorsha. If we cut to the west from here, we should come somewhat close to the small city where Cornelius goes to market. We can refill our saddle bags with whatever we are low on and then continue west until we get far enough to cut up to Barkit. We should be able to restock in Barkit. Once we-”
         “Hold a moment. I thought you were banished from Barkit. An elf that has been banished cannot return without risking death,” Skara pointed out, cutting him off mid thought. Calya looked at him incredulously.
         Kikarii, took a sighing breath as if mentally reliving the past and replied. “I am certain that, given the circumstances, our goal will be enough reason to keep us safe if we go through there. The only other option is to go really far out of the way, up to Ynhilay to restock, but I technically am more banished from there then I am from Barkit. Aside from those two main cities, I don’t think we will be able to keep up our food supply until we reach the next city after those. And the closer to Kezna we get, the less wise it is to go into cities, considering the people will know more about Calya and her family the further into the Highlands we go. We also cannot guarantee that Orin hasn’t taken over smaller cities outside of Kezna.” He paused and looked back and forth between his two, fellow travelers. “Any different suggestions before we leave here?”
         Skara grimaced. “Harta is north and west of here. It is the fortress of the mercenaries. It must be avoided at all costs. Their reputation far precedes them. They are ruthless, violent and unfeeling. They crave blood and leave a wake of gore and terror. They do not take prisoners, unless they are women. I don’t think I need to explain further.” She looked between the two others with her. “No one need hire them if they find you near their fortress, they will cut you down without a second thought. That being said, we will have to travel further west than Barkit and then come back east as we go further north. It is much better to overshoot Harta and backtrack a little than to risk running into the mercenary watchers.”
         Kikarii nodded in agreement and they both looked to Calya for any input. She felt small and out of place. Kikarii had traveled before he was brought to Dorsha. Skara was well learned and able bodied and traveled all the way from Kezna as a youth when she and her brother moved to Tant. Calya was a misplaced princess, out of sorts with travel, geography, knowledge, direction and identity. She tried to look confident as she said, “I think you two covered it all. We should get on our way before too much of the day passes us by.” Kikarii noticed that she was a little off, but refrained from saying anything.



         They rode through another day of fair weather, bright skies and singing birds. The day after, however, they awoke before dawn to thunder in the distance. There was faint lightning on the horizon behind them and they could see rain in the quick flashes of white that lit up the eastern side of the Lowlands. They decided to try to make it to some sort of shelter before the storm reached them. They saddled their horses, took one last look at the oncoming storm and moved on.
         The storm moved faster than they expected. By midday it was over them, the pelting rain colder than anticipated. The thunder crashed around them and the lightning flashed. All around them, trees, grass and rocks lit up in an ethereal flash that looked more lethal than beautiful. They pushed their horses as fast and as far as they could to find a shelter. Skara was hit with something small and solid. She glanced around and yelled over the wind to Kikarii. He shook his head, confused and looked over at Calya who shouted in surprise when she was also hit by something small and hard. Kikarii felt a sting on his face like he had been shot by an icy dart.
         He pulled on the reins, came to a halt, and looked around. He was hit again. Then again. The others had stopped to watch him and look around themselves. “Hail!” he cried, kicking his stallion into a gallop, pushing the poor creature as hard as possible, the others followed suit and they raced over the increasingly uneven ground. The hailstones grew in size until they were about the size of kiwis. They rode low over the necks of their steeds, hoping to get out of the deadly storm. It was well known in the Lowlands that hailstorms could be lethal and staying out in one could cost a person their life as well as their animal’s life. Hailstorms were rare in the Lowlands. Rare and terrifying. Calya looked around frantically as the hail rained down on them, searching desperately for some shelter.
         There! To her left, just distant enough to make her doubt her eyes, but just close enough to take the chance that what she was seeing was real. She screamed at Kikarii over the sound of the storm, the pounding hooves and the hail crashing into the surrounding trees. “To the left!” He glanced over and then rode inches from Skara and yelled for her to follow him to the left. She nodded and they urged their mounts just a little further. What Calya had spotted was a rock formation with a cliff face five yards high. Part of it created a shallow cave which at its height was three yards high and at its deepest was three-and-a-half yards deep. They dismounted and led the horses in as deep as they could fit and sat with them. Skara checked over the horses for injuries while Calya checked to see how much food was damaged and Kikarii tried his best to ring out their cloaks and put their boots by the back wall of the shelter. Calya took a blanket from Skara’s saddle bag to find it damp, but not soaked since it was the first thing packed. The three travelers looked at each other, bruises and cuts covering their exposed hands and faces. A bit later, the blankets were laid out, a small dinner was eaten and the tack was taken off the horses. They lay together that night, trying to keep warm, Kikarii and Skara on each side of Calya to protect her from any harm that might find them during the night.
         At dawn the next day, the sky was still dark. The hail had passed, but the rain had returned. It was a soaking downpour, the type of downpour that made you wet to your very bones and even when the rain is warm you feel cold - the type of rainstorm that makes you cold just looking out the window, even when there is a warm, crackling fire right beside you. The wind continued to howl and the sky remained dark. The birds and creatures stayed hidden away and the three mounts lay against each other at the back of the cave. Kikarii went into the rain to gather as much grass for them as possible.
         The third morning dawned and the rain began to let up. The sun shone through a break in the clouds at the horizon and a massive double rainbow crossed the entire sky. The three travelers looked up at the rainbow and relaxed. The storm was over and they could pack up and be on their way. They heard the chirping of birds return and saw some wild, wingless, grassland birds pecking for food not more than thirty yards from their hideout. Their supplies had dried out and they saddled the horses once more. Leading them out of the cave, they mounted and resumed their journey in a relaxed trek across the hilly grasslands. This part of their quest was the most relaxing and calming, provided nothing more terrible happened before they reached the small town of Vecturn where the market was. It was going to be a decent ride from where they were since they had ended up quite far out of the way during the storms. At midday, they took a break and a quick bite, rationing their food a bit in case they ran into anything unexpected before reaching Vecturn, and because they had lost some from the hail storm. In the distance, they saw Lowland boars, their two great tusks at their mouth were used to impale their next meal while the two great horns on their heads were used for sparring and fighting off enemies. Their great, hulking bodies were such a dark brown that they were hardly lighter than ebony, and their hides, though covered in a heavy and coarse fur, seemed stretched so tightly over their muscles, that even the slightest movement showed the incredible power rippling beneath their coats. They were no concern to travelers since they were rarely hunted unless by a cocky Highlander, and their only real enemies were kinnett wolves which mainly resided in packs closer to the Mordin Mountains and the marshes. The boars grazed in the plains while bunnies scurried around, in and out of their holes. The sun shone so warm and bright that the hail storm seemed almost like a dream, or like a faint memory of a fading dream.
         The three got back in the saddle and continued their relaxed pace once more, taking the day to rest the animals in the sun without holding up progress. They passed the grazing Lowland boars. Two looked up at them and when they caught sight of each other, a sparring match ensued until one was knocked off its feet onto its side in the high grass. At that point, the other turned and continued grazing as if it never stopped. The defeated boar also rose to its feet and began once again grazing where it fell, completely unaffected by its loss at the horns of its fellow herd member. The riders continued on to finish a completely uneventful and joyous day.



         Cornelius sat in his hovel, pouring over maps and legend books when a feeling that had been absent for a while, came back. Calya was headed in his direction. He hoped not to see her because that would mean trouble. He was disappointed and unnerved that she was still this south in the Lowlands. She had only moved slightly north of the village of Tant outside the marshes. The old prophet leaned back in his chair and looked up at the ceiling. He stroked his goatee and sighed restlessly. “Maybe this was not such a good idea after all. Could I have not simply assisted in the takeover of Kezna and the removal of the corrupt stewards and returned the land to peace?” He knew the answer. He knew that was not right when the heir to the throne was very much alive. He rose and walked to the door of his home and peered out thoughtfully. The world as they all knew it was going to change drastically one way or the other. He looked up at the sky that had cleared from the storm and muttered to himself quietly as he went back inside.



         The day passed brightly as the three companions rode over the grassy hills, avoiding people along the way. The scenery became more than a little familiar to the princess and her protector. They smiled at each other, glad to be back in comfortable territory, even if only for a very short time. Skara felt out of sorts now, this piece of land was out of her realm of geographical knowledge. Kikarii and she had gone back and forth leading until they reached the familiar landscape. Now she was behind the princess and the elf. By evening, they saw the town. The three agreed to set up camp and head to the market come morning. They ate heartily that night, knowing they would restock all food and supplies the next day. They went to sleep full and happy for the first time since leaving Tant.
         Calya looked up at the sky as the other two slept soundly around the fire. She had volunteered to take the first watch while the other two got some shut eye. Her eyes wandered across the vast array of stars and stopped on the moon. It was three-fourths full that night, but surprisingly bright. There was very little wind and everything seemed still. Even so, there was a chorus of crickets joined by conversing owls in the trees. She saw bats picking insects out of the air as they dove low, only leveling out when they caught their prey just above the flames of the campfire. The orange in her eyes seemed to come alive with the flickering firelight in front of her. She thought over what may lie ahead of them and how she would accomplish her task. It seemed impossible, and yet, if things really were as Skara claimed, then it may be much easier than they all anticipated. Maybe the expected danger was not as bad as they made it out to be.
         The hours passed and she woke Kikarii for the second watch so she could sleep. He also sat, mulling over what the future held. However, his thoughts trailed in the opposite direction of the girl’s. He wondered if they were really as prepared as they thought for the dangers that lie in wait.



         Morning broke, clear and bright. Skara picked fruit from the surrounding bushes and trees and surprised her comrades with a small pile of wild berries and fruits. They ate merrily and saddled their steeds once more to enter the town.
         They rode up to the small gate, past goat herders and shepherds with their flocks. The shepherd had two young children with him. They carried small staffs made of thick branches and were learning to direct the sheep in whatever direction their father desired. Nearer to the entrance, small children ran through the gate, scurrying around the goats, causing them to scatter and bleat with upset. The goat herder chased after them with his staff held high, yelling for them to leave his animals be. Calya smiled at the normalcy of it all. At least, she smiled at what she thought must be normal. The three riders entered through the gate to the street beyond. They headed straight for the market. Kikarii knew where most of the stands he wanted to buy from were set up and made a beeline for them. As the crowd became more dense, they dismounted and led their horses through. They would pack the saddlebags as they made their purchases and then leave by the opposite gate. Going out by that gate would set them on a north western path, straight toward the elven forest and the next stop in their journey.



         “Skara?” A deep voice hollered in questioning surprise from behind them. The redhead turned around, curious to see who could possibly recognize her in a place she’d never been. Cornelius pushed through the crowd to greet her, his hands carrying a few sacks of food items from further back in the market stands. As the knife thrower turned, so did the others. Instantly the old man’s face broke into a wonderful grin. His features seemed to light up with joy and confidence. “My friends!” he exclaimed loudly.
         “Cornelius!” Skara yelled and ran to give him a hug.
         He embraced her tightly and gestured to the other two. “How in the Lowlands did you chance to meet these two?”
         “Do you not remember that Traff opened his tavern in Tant after he and Amberly were married?”
         Remembrance marked his wrinkled features. “Ah, yes. So he did. And you of course would never let him leave you alone in the city.”
         “Never. Our brother died soon after and Brinner came to live with us in Tant at the Tavern.”
         Cornelius’ expression turned sad. “I am sorry about that. I was always very fond of Torid and Riasha. I am very glad that Brinner is well taken care of.” His voice lightened again. “Obviously you are, too! And you have joined in the journey as well. They could not ask for a better companion to travel with.”
Kikarii finished his purchases and turned to greet the old prophet warmly. “Good morning!” he shouted over the noise of the crowd.
         Cornelius grasped the elf’s hand in his own. “When I felt the two of you come near, I feared the worst. How do you fare?”
         Kikarii nodded to the end of the market nearby where the crowds were much more sparse and the noise would be less. “Let us get someplace a bit easier to speak.”
         Their small group moved through the clumps of people and stands until they reached a much quieter part of the town. Kikarii turned back to Cornelius when they had stopped and continued the conversation. “We stopped here for supplies on our way to Barkit. The elven forest will be our next stop for stocking up after this.”
         The prophet frowned. “Returning to Barkit would mean death for you, Kikarii. You know this.”
         “That is exactly what I said!” Skara piped in, gleeful with her supposed victory.
         Kikarii shot her a sideways look before answering the old man. “Barkit is our best and only chance to restock. I do not trust any of the smaller towns around there. They lie too close to Harta and with all of the violence from the mercenaries as of late, it would be extremely unwise to go any closer to that fortress than absolutely necessary. The only other place we could stop that would be guaranteed safe would be Ynhilay and I am more dead entering there than in Barkit.”
         Cornelius knew that he could be correct. The larger and more independent the people group, the less likely to be affected by the hired soldiers and the whims of a war driven steward. “You have a very good point there. I will not delay you any longer. You have a dangerous road ahead. You know what you must do. Now go and do it.”
         Skara seemed to deflate at his agreement that Kikarii was correct in his plan and she was not, but it lasted only a moment. At the passing of another, they had mounted their steeds and urged them into a trot, heading for the western town gate. All this time, Calya kept her cloak pulled tightly around her and her hood raised to hide her identity. They reached the gate and kicked their horses into an easy canter over the shrub dotted landscape.
         This part of the Lowlands was less open, filled with more trees, and the cities and towns had been built nearer to each other than further south and east. They traveled out of sight of Vecturn before slowing their pace. Down a hill to their right, they saw more goat and sheep herds. They could hear shepherds arguing with the goat herders over who had the right to graze their flocks in that part of the land. More Lowland boars dotted the landscape on their left sparring with each other in between grazing. They continued on until nightfall, when they stopped to set up camp to eat and rest.
They laid out their cloaks and blankets, had a small fire started and had just finished eating when Calya heard a faint sound in the darkness. “Kikarii, Did you hear that?”
         His head came up from poking at the wood at the base of the hot flames. “Hear what?”
         “There was a sound in the darkness somewhere.”
         Skara looked around curiously. “Did it sound like an animal? Or something else?”
         The princess shook her head, suddenly uncertain of herself. “I’m not sure. Nevermind. It may have just been the crackling of the fire tricking my ears.” She tried to relax, but heard another sound. She turned back to the others.
         This time Skara had turned around and was looking into the darkness behind her. “Kikarii,” she whispered harshly.
         The elf looked up just in time to see a glint of light misplaced in the air. How did I miss that noise? He shouted. “Skara, move!” She ducked and dove toward Calya, startled and unprepared. Kikarii had his sword drawn and leaped over the small campfire to clash with the blade of a big, brute of a man.
His opponent had a dark beard, dark brown, maybe black. It was hard to tell in the firelight. He had a thick mane of dark wavy hair that was tinted a bloody orange by the flames before him. Kikarii looked into the man’s rage filled eyes and heard a squeal behind him.
         Calya was shoved to the ground as Skara drew her throwing knives and placed herself between the princess and another large, heavily muscled man. This man was much larger than the one who had clashed swords with Kikarii. He was at least six feet tall by the young woman’s estimation and definitely more than her match. Calya scurried back, closer to the fire. She could hear voices in the darkness beyond the two burly men.
         Kikarii swung his sword around and dislodged his blade, taking a defensive stance. Adrenaline shot through his veins like fire and his eyes blazed with a deepset determination. They clashed again, their bodies now moving as if in a lethal dance in the firelight. It would have been artistic, beautiful even if it wasn’t understood that whoever misstepped would no longer be among the living. Kikarii breathed deeply, his focus laser pointed at his adversary as they clashed again and again.
         On the other side of the fire, not far away, Skara faced her enemy silently. He stood, noiseless and imposing at the edge of the lighted circle. It seemed like an eternity that he stood there, motionless, staring down at the small, redheaded woman in front of him. The sounds of metal on metal clanged in the night like a church bell. Suddenly, almost faster than her eye could catch, he had a sword drawn. Of course he would. He swung his blade in a downward arc. Skara rolled to the side swiftly avoiding lethal contact. A knife left her hand, even as she rolled to her feet. He moved quickly to face her, knocking the knife out of the air with the back of his chain mail-coated gauntlet.
         “Oh come on!” she yelled in frustration. He swung low and she backflipped out of the way with hardly more than an inch to spare. The only good thing about fighting here was that she had plenty of open space, unlike at the tavern. She glanced over to see if Calya was okay, but that split second cost her too much. Before she could look back, she felt a massive boot send her hurtling back through the air. She hit the dirt hard just outside the circle of light. Her lungs fought to pull in air as she lay curled up on the ground holding her abdomen. She couldn’t breathe, she couldn’t move. Where was the brute? Was he coming to finish her? Was he after Calya? She tried to focus her eyes to search the camp for the princess. Finally she pulled in a shaky breath and struggled to get to her feet. Her body was wracked with pain and her ribs felt bruised or broken. She caught sight of Calya with her small blade out, backing away from her attacker, his incredibly large sword held waist high in an iron grip. Kikarii was laying in the dirt on the other side of the campsite, the large, bearded man low over him, swords locked just above Kikarii’s face. His teeth were gritted and he let out a growl of exertion and frustration. Skara saw that she was momentarily forgotten and grabbed a few more throwing knives as she inched closer to the man who was now approaching Calya. She could see the other young woman shaking uncontrollably with terror, her blade quivering in her unsteady hands. She aimed her throws quickly and let her small blades fly, when her hands were emptied, she pulled out more, ready to let them loose. The hulking swordsman lifted his weapon to deliver a life ending blow. She heard at least one of her knives clink off of the glistening steel. She cursed to herself as she pulled more out of her pouch on her belt. Yet, a moment later, the man turned and looked at her, a crazed yet vacant expression in his eyes, clearly seen, even in the flickering light of the flames a few feet away. He stood there for what seemed like a full minute before toppling to the ground. He didn’t move. Needing only a moment to get her bearings, Calya pulled a couple knives from her own pouch, spun and let them fly, one at a time. Kikarii’s opponent lurched back with a gurgled scream of agony, his hands clawing at his collarbone and the side of his neck. Blood spurted out from where the two knives had sunk deep into soft flesh. Kikarii leaped at the opening and struck down the big man quickly with his longsword. For a few moments there was silence as he and the two women stood, holding their breath, looking into the darkness, waiting for whoever else may be there beyond their sight.
         “Don’t kill us!” they heard suddenly. Calya pulled out a few more knives, as did Skara.
         Kikarii raised his sword, taking a deep breath and moving cautiously closer to the two women. “Show yourself!” he shouted into the night.
         They repeated their plea. “Don’t kill us!”
         The elf lowered his voice to a dangerous growl. “If you don’t show yourselves, I will cut you to pieces without mercy.” His eyes were filled with rage and his body was rigid and ready for another fight. He saw three figures come forward to the edge of the lighted circle - two men and a woman. One of the men was tall and somewhat thin. The other was a bit shorter and stocky, though still about the same height as Kikarii. The woman was beautiful and a little taller than Calya. She had raven hair pulled back tightly into a long, curly ponytail.
         The taller man was the one who had begged for Kikarii not to kill them. He spoke again, shakily. “Please, let us alone!”
         Kikarii’s brows furrowed in anger and a deep loathing. “What was your purpose here?”
The woman spoke gently, her voice smooth like liquid gold. “Please, sir, let us-”
“I asked what your purpose here was. I expect an answer.” Kikarii was not phased by her beauty, nor her silky, seductive voice. He was enraged and ready to spill blood to protect the women with him. The stocky man stepped forward to speak and was met with the tip of the elf’s blade at his throat. “You stay there,” he said coldly.
         The stocky man stopped where he was and swallowed, clearing his throat before answering. “We are indebted to you. You have saved us from those terrible brutes.”
         Kikarii was not swayed. “You shut your mouth unless you are going to tell me the truth.”
“But that is the tru-”
         The woman stepped forward to be next to him and interrupted. “Troas, that’s enough,” she said softly, as she held Kikarii’s gaze with her deep, blue eyes. “You are correct, master swordsman. We were not held captive. Those two men were our fighters. We were here to rob you. But now that we have failed, you wouldn’t harm us, would you?” She paused gesturing to her two accomplices. “I mean, look at us, good sir. We are unarmed and completely unable to defend ourselves.” She took a step forward and then another, till she was right in front of Kikarii. He eyed her warily. She put a slender, gloved hand on his, her eyes never leaving his. “You are a man of mercy, are you not? We have obeyed your command to show ourselves. Will you not show us mercy and sheath your weapon and save your strength for a more… deserving foe?” she purred, coming close to him, but cautiously, as if testing him to see if he would soften. Her blue eyes seemed to brighten and her face seemed to appear more vibrant, youthful and beautiful. She suddenly seemed so captivating but only to the men near her.
         Skara and Calya both felt their stomachs churn as they stood watching this woman. Kikarii lifted a hand and placed it over hers. Skara threw up in her mouth. He stood unmoving for a moment, staring into the woman’s eyes. Then he grasped her hand and ripped it off of his, gripping her wrist tightly and twisting it back. The woman let out a very unattractive yelp as he threw her to the ground and pointed his sword downward so the tip rested on the bridge of her nose, directly between her eyes. “You take your smooth words and heartless seduction somewhere else, you witch. If you do not, I will take your life where you lay. You had better make your decision now, because I am not a patient man.”
The black haired woman moved herself carefully away from the cold steel and was helped to her feet by the tall, slender man. “Come on,” he said begrudgingly. “They’re not worth it.” The three thieves hurried out of the light, into the darkness and disappeared.
         Kikarii turned to face his two companions. Skara spit on the ground and wiped her mouth, thoroughly disgusted at the scene that had just played out. “What in the world just happened?” she asked, abhorrence dripping from every word.
         The elf sheathed his sword and ran his fingers through his cropped hair. “An enchantress. She usurps the will of men through desire and seduction. She takes what wealth they have and then uses them to acquire more for herself. I remember an enchantress caged in Barkit when I was young. She had lured one of the married elven men to her and ultimately to his death. She was caged and killed for her actions. We were all warned to keep a lookout for such a woman. She was made a spectacle out of so none of us would ever forget. The enchantresses tend to hunt elves because of our superior bloodline and skills.” He looked into the darkness where the three thieves had taken their leave and then scanned their campsite. “Let’s move from here.” Calya nodded and began gathering up the blankets and retrieved her cloak. Skara saddled the horses and then watched as Kikarii searched the two dead men for valuables. The enchantress obviously was not so in love with possessions that she would risk the sword to take anything her two hitmen might have on their person. He walked over to the redhead and handed her back her knives and did likewise with Calya as she was covering the last burning embers with dirt. Then he clipped pouches from the assassins onto his belt and put a few money bags in a pocket of his saddlebag. By then, the women had wiped off their knives and mounted their horses. He did likewise and the three of them set off into the night toward their next destination. Barkit.



         They traveled for days that seemed to never end. They were not difficult days by any means. They were bright and warm, sunny and relaxing; filled with the songs of birds, the scurrying of bunnies and the humming of honeybees around the small clusters of flowers that dotted the hills. The days seemed endless because one seemed to drag into another until none of them knew how many days they had been traveling. Their food supply was on track as far as they could tell, but they would soon need to reach the forest if they were to keep from rationing it.
         They continued on their northwest trek, avoiding towns and cities along the way to draw as little attention to themselves as possible until they reached the elves. Skirting the fortress had turned out to be easier than anticipated, and in avoiding other cities, they avoided Harta without any added effort. Finally they stopped before the trees came into view. They set up a small camp, hoping to be as low profile as possible since they were so near. Kikarii preferred to not alert anyone of their presence until necessary. The women agreed. They slept. Kikarii kept watch until morning. They had discussed the wisdom of him remaining hidden until the women had spoken with the elves, but while that may be the most tactful, it left the women open to harm without him by their sides. They had agreed that him accompanying them may not be entirely against their purpose because of his errand, and yet, as he sat, staring into the fire, he could not help but question if he really should have listened to Skara and avoided his past altogether.