Chapter 5: The Wild and Dark

         A group of a dozen elves disarmed the four and led them through the dark forest, surrounding them on all sides. While the elves stripped them of their things and placed their arms in chains, Grom realized that they were the same wild elves that they had helped save from Renant and the invading orcs more than two years ago. When he tried to speak to them, one of the elves lashed at him with a whip, leaving an indented mark across his forearm. The crack of a whip wasn’t enough to keep Garz quiet, and the elves had to tie a cloth over his mouth to muffle his incessant complains.

         Something seemed different about the wild elves. Grom knew that they were very untrusting, but their blatant harmful actions and seizing prisoners without questions went beyond their usual tactics. He remembered the stories that were circulating around the castle in Oneria. The council of five elder elves had closed Anon’s gates to any of the other cities, but rumors spread of an alliance with the wild elves. Perhaps their ruthless attitude reflected the sudden change in the actions of the high elves.

         The wild elves brought the four into a small clearing where several makeshift tents stood in a half circle around a blazing bonfire. Several more wild elves inhabited the area, either sitting near the fire or walking in and out of the tents. They looked up at their fellow elven brothers and began whispering softly to one another after getting a good look at their prisoners. Grom looked out amongst them all and searched for a familiar face, but he could not discern between each accusing glance that looked his way.

         “Bring them near the fire and shackle their legs,” the wild elf that had first pointed his bow and captured Grom barked his order. Some of the other elves around the fire rushed off into a tent and came back with more chains. The elves took turns securing their hold on the four to lock the metal bonds around their legs. Garz was the only of the four to actually put up a fight, and it took a few extra elves to hold him down. He shouted many muffled words, but even the gag could not cover the intent of his words.

         “Please let us speak. We mean you no harm. We were only seeking the bandits that stole from a nobleman awaiting our return in Oneria,” Grom said, keeping his voice as calm as possible.

         “Hold your tongue, dwarf. We care not for your lies.” The voice came from within the central and largest of the line of tents. A hand pulled back the curtains, and out stepped a tall and regal elf with shoulder length brown hair. Unlike the savage apparel of the wild elves, he wore rich silk clothing the color of scarlet. A cape fell over his shoulders, which jutted out in long pads, and he threw it back over his right shoulder, revealing a longsword hanging at his side. He walked with an air of arrogance, taking slow, articulate steps and keeping his nose high in the air. He strolled down the line and examined each of the four, stopping in front of Garz and sniffing the air. “I remember now why I dislike dwarves. Their attitudes are like their smell, vile and putrid.”

         Garz snarled and tried to kick his legs, but the shackles did their job and kept his feet on the ground.

         “And what do we have here?” the arrogant elf asked, stepping in front of Deathwish. He peered at his mask and made another disgusted face. “Aren’t you a little old to be playing dress up? Maybe we should take off this little mask and see what’s beneath.” The other elves laughed and called out their approval.

         “If you touch that mask, I will personally see to it that it be the last thing you do,” Deathwish threatened, unblinking and unmoving. The chatter and cheers of the elves drifted into a suspenseful hush and waited to see what would happen.

         “Tear it off! He’s shackled!” a wild elf called out.

         “I bet his face is even uglier than that mask!” another cried.

         “What is this about? Does Lord Granadal know what you are doing?” Grom asked in an attempt to break his attention away from Deathwish. His tactic seemed to work as the elf’s head snapped in his direction.

         “What gives you the right to even speak the name of the ruler of the wild elves? How do you know Lord Granadal? What makes you think he objects to taking spies as prisoners?” the elf asked, his questions firing one after another off the tip of his tongue.

         “Spies?” Ragefist said, speaking up for the first time since their capture, “We’re not spies! I am a member of Oneria’s guard!”

         “I wasn’t asking you, human,” the elf hissed without taking his eyes from Grom, “Answer my questions, dwarf.”

         “My name is Grom Greystone, a captain of Oneria’s defenses. My friends and myself aided Lord Granadal in saving the wild elf village from an orc attack. I don’t see why he would want a friend to his people in chains,” Grom said. Perhaps he could open this elf’s eyes to his wrongs and get over this misunderstanding.

         “Nonsense! Even if you are who you claim to be, you are trespassing in our territory, and we cannot trust that you were not sent as spies for Flamecrest. The elves of Anon and of the wilderness need only trust themselves anymore,” the elf stated with a proud huff and straightened his shoulders.

         “Whether or not that’s the case, you should be worrying about what caused those men to burst like balloons and hatch into whatever those things were,” Ragefist said.

         “Those monsters do not concern us. Our archers are skilled enough to handle any foe, human or otherwise. Our only concern now is figuring out what to do with the four of you,” the elf said, sneering at Ragefist.

         A silent Deathwish raised his head and looked around the area. Grom noticed and watched his frantic movements. A sort of panic overcame the masked man, and his jittery shifting caught the elf’s attention as well.

         “What is wrong with you now?” the elf asked.

         “Danger. Quick, untie us before it’s too late!” Deathwish said, his words rushing out of his mouth in a rapid succession.

         The elf laughed so hard that he had to grab his side. “You must take me for a fool! Your simple games will not save you.”

         As the well-dressed elf went about his taunting, Deathwish’s face stopped its frantic movements and focused on something in the distance. Grom followed his gaze and squinted against the shadows of the night. At first he saw nothing, but then he noticed a movement from above. Something large lowered itself down from above and reached with several long legs that resembled moving swords. In one swift motion, the creature struck one of the wild elves through the gut with two of the sword-like extensions and pulled him upward back into the darkness. The elf let out a short gasp and a pain-filled gurgle before disappearing.

         “What was that?” the elf asked. He turned around, and the bloodied body of the wild elf fell to the ground, his gut ripped wide open and exposed.

         “Sir Reginald!” another wild elf shouted. He took a step forward, and the bladed appendages dropped from the air and punched two holes through his chest. The archers drew their bows and fired a volley of shots into the air, but the creature rose upward and pulled the wild elf with it. The wild elf cried out as the arrows pierced his legs, arms, torso, and neck. The beast dropped the elf and returned to its hidden place above.

         “Be on your guard, brothers!” Reginald shouted, drawing the sword at his side.

         “Let us go!” Grom pleaded, completely helpless with his legs and arms secured.

         “And watch you run off? I don’t think so. I’d rather use you all as bait for the thing!” Reginald said, moving closer to the bonfire.

         An uncomfortable silence fell over the camp. The wild elves circled the area with their bows drawn and arrows notched. Garz struggled like crazy to free himself and fell over on his stomach in the process. Another cry grabbed Grom’s attention away from the flailing Garz, and he pivoted his head just in time to see the shadow of this creature drop behind one of the wild elves and stab through his neck.

         “Over there! Fire!” Reginald called, stepping back away from it.

         Another volley of arrows flew forward, and a few hit their mark. The beast cried out in a high pitched screech and ran forward toward the light of the fire. It resembled the strange spider creatures from before, but it ran on eight black legs that were as thin and sharp as blades. The upper half of its body resembled a female dark elf in every way. Its skin was as black as its legs, and ashy white hair fell down its back. As the archers readied their next arrows, the creature charged at one of them and knocked him back into the bonfire. Horrified screams rose up over the crackling of the fire and the confused cries of the elves. More arrows flew at the beast, and most found a new home deep within the hide of the creature.

         “Keep firing! Take it down!” Reginald shouted his commands, keeping a safe distance away from the fight.

         “Shhh,” Grom heard a voice next to him. He cocked his head to the side and saw a wild elf looking around frantically. Grom watched him pull out a small metal object and realized that it was a key. The elf fumbled with the lock holding Grom’s arms and with a little work managed to undo them. He did the same to the shackles on his feet and handed Grom the key.

         “Why are you helping us?” Grom asked, genuinely surprised by the strange turn of events.

         “You saved my family from the orcs that night two years ago. This is the least I can do to repay my debt,” the wild elf said. A hint of a smile spread across his face, and he shoved Grom toward his friends. “Quick, you must unlock their bonds and get far away from here! Your weapons and other items are over by the fire.”

         Mouthing a quick thanks, Grom turned and worked the key in the lock holding Ragefist’s hands. The sound of a click brought a thankful smile to the human’s face, and he rubbed his sore wrists. Grom unlatched his feet and hurried over toward Deathwish.

         “Go get our things while I set the others free!” Grom barked toward Ragefist.

         Ragefist never questioned an order from a superior, and he rushed toward the fire where their weapons and bags all rested in a giant pile. He stopped just shy of the pile and stared as the wild elf that had been thrown into the fire rose up and ran dangerously close by as he tried to put out the fire on his clothing and skin. Ragefist closed his eyes for a moment to try and remove the image of the man’s burning flesh from his mind, but the smell of charred meat made that impossible. He reached out with shaking hands and grabbed his sword and the two large axes. He tried to lift the bag of treasure and Grom’s pack, but it was too much for him to carry.

         Meanwhile, Grom unlocked the final latch around Deathwish’s legs and moved on to Garz. Grom pulled the gag away from his mouth, which he soon regretted.

         “My god, we’re all going to die! Untie me! We need to get out of here!” Garz shouted, wiggling and shaking his entire body.

         “Hold still! If you keep this up, I’m just going to leave you here tied up for the nasty spider lady,” Grom said. His words brought Garz’s crazed movements to an end, and he went to work on his arm restraints.

         Deathwish met Ragefist halfway and grabbed his axe from him. The wild elves continued to fire at the creature, wounding it with each volley of arrows, but the spider drow continued to pick them off one at a time.

         “We need to get out of here,” Ragefist said, his fear showing.

         “We cannot leave this thing to continue killing,” Deathwish said. He raised his axe and let out a low chuckle. “It’s time to do a bit of exterminating.”

         “You’re insane! We can’t possibly kill that thing!” Ragefist pleaded, trying his best to grab hold of his arm and pull him away, “Besides, if we stay and kill it, what’s to say that the elves don’t try and capture us again?”

         “I don’t think there will be many left to stop us from leaving,” Deathwish said, motioning toward the ground littered with dead bodies.

         As the spider-like creature stalked its next pray, a loud hiss rose from somewhere out in the forest. Nearly a dozen spider creatures hatched from the bodies of humans crawled around and over the tents to join in on the massacre. A few of the creatures lifted the prone bodies and began spinning thick webbing around them for safe keeping.

         “We need to fall back and find a place to stay until morning,” Grom said, pulling Garz around by his beard over toward Deathwish and Ragefist.

         “Let go of my beard! Yow!” Garz cried out, grabbing hold of Grom’s wrist.

         “Still think we can kill them all?” Ragefist said, looking over at Deathwish with a slight trace of a smirk on his face.

         Deathwish answered by rushing toward the fire and cutting one of the spiders down the middle. He lifted up the sack of stolen valuables and Grom’s sack of food and supplies and raced back over to the others.

         Grom turned and ran away from the camp and all the monstrous spiders, moving as fast as his stocky dwarf legs would carry him. A momentary feeling of shame came over him. He could not remember the last time he had run from a battle, especially one in which people were being left to suffering and death. Although the wild elves had captured them, Grom wished no harm upon them. He wouldn’t cry over Reginald’s death, but the thought of the wild elves having to suffer and eventually be eaten made him want to turn back. When he felt his legs begin to slow, thoughts crept into his mind again of all those he had lost in trying to defeat the evil of Mortillus, and he feared losing those running alongside him. The renewed fear pushed him forward into the unknown safety of the woods.

         They ran until they could go no further. Luckily for them, they had traveled south toward the base of the mountains, and they discovered an opening into a very small cavern. As they entered, Garz fell wheezing against the ground and groaned. Ragefist leaned against the opening of the cavern and looked behind him as if he expected the spiders to return at any moment.

         “I believe they lost our scent. We should be safe in here so long as we keep guard,” Deathwish said, placing his axe back into the loop at his side.

         “What were those things?” Ragefist asked, staring out into the pitch black of the night.

         “They were some sort of insect that hatched from inside of those humans. The person acts as a host to the growing creature until they are too big to subsist from within. That is what we witnessed. I have never seen anything like it before in all my travels and study,” Deathwish answered, showing some surprise in his voice for the first time.

         “That big one that killed all those pointy-ears,” Garz said between breaths. He sat up and hacked up a mouthful of gunk, spitting it to the side. “She looked like a pointy-ear herself. Was she controlling the others?”

         “From the looks of her, she resembled a dark elf,” Grom said just above a whisper. He remembered his encounters with both Renant and Pyras, and a blaze of hatred rose from within his heart. “I don’t know if it was a dark elf, but they looked a hell of a lot like them.”

         “How is that possible?” Ragefist asked, turning from the cavern opening, “I’ve heard the stories from the others in Oneria. The dark elves live on Mortillus, and the island is protected by the god’s spell of binding.”

         “They somehow escaped before, lad,” Grom said. He scratched his chin and pictured the beast in his mind. The upper portion appeared to be that of a drow woman, but the lower legs were that of a spider. It didn’t add up in his mind. “Maybe this is some sort of creature that has been roaming the forests at night. There are many evils in this world, and like the orcs, goblins, and kobolds, they inhabit even our own land.”

         “The important thing is that we’re safe now, right?” Ragefist asked, pausing for recognition.

         “We may be safe, but I need to return to Sagarian to return these possessions to their rightful owners,” Deathwish reminded them, dropping the bag of gold and silver objects onto the cold cave floor.

         The riches that belonged to that nobleman were the furthest thing from Grom’s mind. He wondered about the safety of Queen Anne with such evil crawling around the forests so near the city. The threat of the suitors within the city walls nagged at his conscience, too, but he knew that his return to Oneria would have to wait.

         “Doesn’t the road around the mountains split off at some point and lead to Flamecrest?” Ragefist asked out of the blue. An eager excitement lifted his words and his hands into the air. “Why don’t we go there and speak with someone about their dispute with the elves? Maybe we could bring some sort of peace between the two groups.”

         “Will ya look at that! The kid has a good idea!” Garz shouted, spit flying from the corners of his mouth and landing on his beard. Ragefist flashed him a hateful glance, but Garz ignored it.

         “The way to Flamecrest from the main road to Sagarian would take at least a week on foot. If you feel it to be necessary, I will travel ahead to Sagarian and meet you there,” Deathwish said.

         “I see no reason for us to split up. We can go to Flamecrest for answers and then head to Sagarian,” Grom said, satisfied with their course of plans.

         “The people of Sagarian are expecting me. I will return these items to them first and then meet you in Flamecrest,” Deathwish said. His words were cold and planted in the ground like the vines of an ancient oak. He lifted the bag of treasures and tossed it over his shoulder.

         “You’re not planning on leaving now, are you?” Grom asked, raising his eyebrow.

         “If I leave now, I will be able to make good time,” Deathwish said, taking a step toward the opening.

         “What about us? What is those spiders come back?” Ragefist asked, tapping his leg against the ground.

         “You have nothing to fear. They have enough to make a meal out of from the elves in the camp. Besides, it will be morning in a few hours. You only need to follow the mountains to the west and you will come across the main road,” Deathwish said.

         “Bah! Let him go!” Garz called, falling onto his back and resting his hands underneath his head, “If he wants to run out on us, then I say we let him.”

         “I am sworn to return these items at all costs. Trust me, we will meet again. My journey to Sagarian and then to Flamecrest should take me three weeks. You may need the extra time to even get in to speak with their king. I hear he is a very busy man that dislikes being bothered,” Deathwish said. He stepped out into the night and nodded toward the three. “I will see you then. Good luck to you. Get all the rest that you can.”

         Without another word, Deathwish strode off, swallowed up by the ravenous darkness.

         “I don’t understand that man,” Ragefist said, shaking his head. He returned to look out into their surroundings, continuing to nervously tap his leg against the ground.

         Grom knew very little about Flamecrest or its king. He had meant to travel there after his stay in Oneria, but fate kept him from there until now. Perhaps if they could talk with their king, this entire mess could come to an end. Grom yearned to return to Oneria, fearful for the city’s safety. Jonathan would keep watch of the town. He had done it for a much longer time than Grom had, and he knew that he was reliable. Above all else, Grom wanted to see Anne and push out all of the incoming noblemen that searched for her hand in marriage.

         “Shall I take the first watch?” Ragefist’s voice broke Grom’s wandering thoughts.

         “No, you try and get some rest. Garz and I will take turns tonight,” Grom said. No more than a moment after his last word left his mouth, he heard a gurgling snore rise from behind him. Garz slept with one hand behind his had and another down the front of his trousers. “Well, I’ll take the first watch at least.”

         Ragefist nodded and walked over to Grom, patting him on his shoulder. Ragefist went about unlatching some of his armor, and Grom stepped just outside of the cavern. The cold night air blew past him and stung his face. A shiver ran through his limbs, and he pulled his axe from his back to lean upon. Before too long, Ragefist’s shallow snoring joined with Garz’s in a strange symphony of slumber.

         Grom stood and watched the swaying of the branches until the light of the morning sun began to surface and begin a new day. Grom closed his eyes and sighed, wondering when danger would stop pursuing him at every turn and hoping for a peaceful end to his problems.