Elantion. Valentina Massano
it, wrapped in her cloak, and slept for a few hours.
She was startled awake by a host of strange noises. Perfectly still, she listened. Some soil fell upon her, and she understood from the croaking that it was a pack of anurians, a species of froglike amphibians that wandered from one land to another in nomadic groupings, collecting what they found on both continents. They were rarely seen in that area; since the Invasion, they had been pushed to as far as Elelreel due to the devastation in Draelia. They were a gawky lot, with slimy and spotted skin, short legs and long arms. They could be on the fat side, and their colors could be vivid—the distinguishing characteristics of wiser, older anurians. These creatures were venomous and quite swift, which made them difficult to deal with groups of them.
While Clarice was deciding what to do, a small flame went out from among the embers, and a thin plume of smoke rose up. The elf’s eyes followed it, cursing its existence.
The anurian at the head of the pack caught a whiff of the scent, and spotted the smoke. Then it ordered the pack to halt. Before they could stick their heads out over the hill, Clarice dashed like lightning behind a large tree trunk.
The anurian leapt down to Clarice’s altitude, but with its poor sense of smell, it could not distinguish between Clarice’s odor and the overpowering smoke. It rummaged through the embers with its spear, and then, with a guttural cry, jumped onto the path, the caravan setting off once again.
The elf waited for them to go away, and watched to make sure none were straggling behind.
By Efabi! Danger averted, she thought.
Dawn was breaking, so she decided to resume pace. The last stretch in the woods was propitious. She found some bushes that still bore berries for the plundering. She popped some in her mouth intermittently as she continued forward. Her strides were light and fleet of foot, and she always tried to leave as few traces as possible by avoiding mud and overly soft ground. The sun had risen by the time she left the woods and spotted the hills that would lead her to Herle.
She arrived outside the village on the afternoon of the fourth day. She crossed the Murkwaters and followed them to the passage toward the Rainvale. She hadn’t the time to walk the entire path and reach the hidden entrance—she could already hear the group that was waiting for her arguing heatedly. She stopped and shook her head, mustering all of her patience before proceeding onwards. She wouldn’t stop by for long—just for long enough to exchange information. Then she would walk right back to Fenan.
Ten days passed. The sun had almost dipped behind the mountains. Kaj was returning home, convinced he would never see the nalnir again. He looked up, and in the distance he saw a limping figure. Curiosity spurred him to get a better look, and he realized it was Clarice. Kaj dashed to help her, and she fell into his arms.
“What happened to you, Clarice?” he asked worriedly.
“Now’s not the time. Take me to your house.”
Clarice let herself be guided by Kaj, who helped her lie upon the bed. The elf took off her cloak and began to unfasten the leather protector on her injured left thigh, taking off that leg of her trousers as well.
In the meantime, Kaj was preparing her some water and clean cloth, which he brought over. Her thigh was deeply lacerated.
“It was lalks, wasn’t it?”
“Yes. I’ve never seen a pack of lalks that organized,” she said, her voice trembling slightly. She was very pale-faced, and worn out, as she had lost a lot of blood.
“Now stay still; I’ll try not to hurt you too much.”
She nodded slightly, laying her head on the pillow. Kaj dipped a piece of cloth in the washbowl and set about washing away the blood, cleaning the wounds thoroughly. With each touch, he felt the elf’s muscles contract in pain.
“I’m almost finished,” he informed her. “I just have to go get some herbs from the hospital.”
“There’s no need. Just put some bandages on it. It’ll heal.”
“I’m the wound expert here.”
“Listen to me, Kaj,” she replied harshly.
“Okay, if you say it’ll heal… you should’ve put some galium leaves on it as soon as possible, you can find them all over the place here.”
“I was busy running away. I was being unwary, and now look at me…” she said, her words tinged with disappointment.
“But you’re alive!” he cried.
“So it’d seem…” she replied, without much enthusiasm.
Kaj finished wrapping her wound, and whipped up an infusion with a mixture of invigorating herbs. When he returned to the room, he saw she’d fallen asleep.
Good, he thought. She’ll at least regain her strength.
It was now evening. Kaj looked out the window, but the stars were not there. The white clouds shone, covering the whole sky from horizon to horizon. A gust of freezing air enveloped Kaj, who watched the first snowflakes of the season. He went outside, spread out his arms, and turned to face the sky. The snow’s caress felt nice, but a snowflake made it way past his cloak onto his neck, causing him to shiver. He quickly returned inside, and saw that Clarice was awake, leaning against the headboard.
“What’s so fascinating out there? You rushed out the door…” she asked, curious.
The man opened the shutters of the bedroom window. As soon as she saw the snow, Clarice swore in Elvish (which Kaj did not understand). She started rising out of bed, pushing herself onto her feet using her arms, and staggering a little. Kaj stepped in to support her.
“I’m fine!” she insisted firmly.
“Okay. I just wanted to help.”
The nalnir limped to the window. “I hoped it’d take at least a few more days. I didn’t need this,” she admitted, destroying Kaj’s glee completely.
She drank a sip of water and laid herself in bed again, dozing off forthwith. Kaj looked at her for a moment. Most in Clarice’s place would have already developed a high fever, accompanied by delirious dreams. It seemed very strange to him. He found himself handling the medallion she’d given him; it seemed to help him reflect. With his mind full of thoughts, he stretched out on a carpet, and before he realized it, he’d fallen asleep.
Outside the village, the nocturnal quiet was punctuated by the howls of lalks. That night, however, they could be heard barking in pain. A short figure packing metal was striding toward Fenan. His loud and heavy footsteps were accompanied by labored breathing. When the sun began to rise, he finally saw the outline of the houses in the distance. He stopped to catch his breath, and took the opportunity to drink some mead.
Kaj’s awakening was a rude one. He heard shouting in the streets. The speakers were very riled up, so he got up hastily and opened the door. Despite his cloak, he was struck by the cold air. A little further on, a dozen or so villagers were gathered to rail against something. He decided to try and figure out what was going on. Making his way through the crowd, he saw a dwarf brandishing an axe at the crowd with a menacing look. Insult them as they might, none had the courage to attack him.
“Please, stop this!” said Kaj.
“Oh!” exclaimed the dwarf. “Someone with a little common sense!”
“He threatens us with an axe and you defend him?” shouted a nalnir.
“Looks to me you’re threatening him with your dagger!” he shot back.
The elf in question sheathed the weapon and took a few steps back. The dwarf stared at him, and with a satisfied smirk, he swiftly put the axe on his shoulders, hand dangling over its handle. With a proud air, he approached Kaj.
“A friend of mine told me to come here,” he explained. “Oloice Calrek, at your service.” He held out his hand, and Kaj shook it firmly.
“Kaj.”
“Excellent! You’re the one