The Sword of Aviondore

The platform was built into the fork of an ancient Oak tree. So cunningly worked that only an elf would be able to see it from the ground. It was open to the elements, but the canopy of branches above had been carefully sculpted so that rain would run off and never touch it. In all things the Elves strived to work and live with nature and even their homes blended with the great forest rather than altering it.

The girl was still lying on the crude litter used to bring her here. T'larin stooped and touched her neck, the pulse was weak and her breathing was shallow. The tall elf regretted waiting so long to treat her, but the demands of her position as March Warder often forced her to do things she was not happy with. The best healer in her small group was with the guard at the ford, T'larin could not spare her for the human when her own kind might have need of her skills at any moment.

T'larin's practiced eye told her that the girl was bleeding to death from at least one wound if not many. T'larin removed her cloak and heated some water over the fire on the hearthstone. The head wound looked to be minor, but one could never tell with head wounds. The small pool of blood under the human's back told of a much more serious wound in her side. This was the wound T'larin had to get to first, but the girl's armor was strange to her and she was not sure how to remove it. Her armor was of blood red leather that seemed to be sculpted to her body. Metal studs were placed in areas of vulnerability like the breasts, shoulders, sides and along the back between her shoulder blades. T'larin could not figure out how to remove the armor and was beginning to think she would have to send for someone to cut it off when she realized the middle row of studs on the left side were actually beautifully worked buckles. T'larin quickly undid the row of buckles and unlaced the heavy gorget.

With some tugging the whole piece came up over the girl's head and T'larin tossed it aside. Under the armor the girl wore only a dirty and blood stained chemise. T'larin cut it away with her knife without thinking, for time was growing short. T'larin was only interested in the wound, but she could not help but notice how the girl's heavy breasts bounced free of the chemise. They were beautiful and smooth, covered in freckles and capped with rosy pink nipples. T'larin found herself staring at them and shook her head to clear it before she examined the wound. Even then her eyes strayed again and again to the soft mounds.

The girl's side was deeply bruised and a furrow was torn between two ribs. T'larin had treated many wounds and recognized this one as a spear thrust. Even if she had not fought the orcs at the ford she would have surmised it was from an orcish spear. The jagged tear showed signs of being caused by a barbed spear and only orcs used those cruel weapons. T'larin bathed the wound carefully, slowly removing the caked blood and dirt until the wound began to bleed freely again. She let it bleed for a minute to finish cleaning it, the orcs were well known for coating their blades in all manner of filth to aid in causing infection. Once satisfied that the wound was truly clean T'larin dressed it in a clean white cloth from her pack.

The head wound was actually very shallow, but as was often the case it had bled a lot. T'larin surmised a near miss by a knife or sword. She quickly dressed the wound, adding a mixture of herbs from one of her pouches to aid in healing and prevent scarring.

The deep red stockings the girl wore were wet along her hip. T'larin tugged the girl's knee boots off and then peeled the stockings down. If the girl's breasts had held her attention longer than they should have, the sight of her thick red pubic thatch actually caused T'larin to gasp. Elves had no body hair at all and the shock of golden red fleece fascinated her. T'larin actually caught herself reaching out to touch the girl's sex before she mastered herself.

"What is wrong with me?" she thought. Pushing the sight from her mind she concentrated on the hip wound. It was another ragged affair and bore the hallmarks of an orc spear. As she worked to clean it T'larin found herself giving the girl a grudging admiration. She knew warriors who would not have been able to fight on with such wounds. Perhaps there was more to these humans than she supposed.

Once the hip wound was cleaned and dressed T'larin sat back and wiped her brow. Something was very wrong, but she was not sure what. The girl's breathing was even shallower now and when T'larin leaned close she could smell that it was fetid. That smell was the scent of death and it was a slow death from poison. T'larin had found no signs of poison in any of the wounds she had treated. She examined the girl again closely, she must have missed something and time was growing very short. T'larin found what she was looking for on the back of the girl's calf. A small discoloration, not much bigger than a mole. The puncture had not bled which is why she had missed it at first. With her knife T'larin dug out the tip of a dart.

These darts were a cruel weapon, thin and sharp with brittle tips that often broke off leaving only a small bit in the wound. After a battle there were always nicks, cuts and a few very minor wounds. She had seen elves who came through a battle with nothing visibly wrong, the very picture of heath when they went to bed only to be found cold and lifeless the next morning. The poison was subtle, first causing paralyzation of the muscles. The victim was often awake and knew he needed help, but was incapable of making his companions aware of his plight. Slowly the heart and lungs failed while a pain like liquid fire ran through the veins. Many who had been saved at the last moment never fully recovered from the ordeal. No one knew exactly what the orcish shamans used to create the poison, but the elves had found that the liquid obtained by crushing a Talthas leaf was the best antidote.

T'larin was weary and the nearest mature Talthas trees were leagues away in Silverwood. She knew the rest of her company would advise her to slit the girl's throat and save her the slow agonizing death that the poison brought. Even now T'larin was sure the girl was paralyzed and only being unconscious was sparing her the intense pain. Regretfully she picked up her knife and prepared to put the girl out of her misery, but something stayed her hand. T'larin was holding her knife and looking at the human's face when her eyes fluttered open. Those deep green eyes showed fear and pain so eloquently that it touched the elf woman's very soul.

T'larin felt tears well in her eyes. She had not cried in ages and yet something in this girl's plight touched her in a place she had never felt before. She knew she would do anything to save this girl's life and yet she was helpless. She could never hope to make it to Silverwood and back in time to save her. Even if she used her best runners the precious leaf would arrive too late. She wiped the girls brow and murmured, "It's going to be all right, sleep now,"

The girl seemed to understand the words and her eyes slowly closed. T'larin sat back and wiped a tear from her cheek. Something tugged at her memory, something important, but in her unexpected grief it took a long time to make her examine it. When it did she leapt to her feet and descended the ladder in great haste. Turning she ran into the forest, leaving the few elves left in camp to puzzle over her sudden departure.

Branches slashed at her face as she ran, but she had no time to avoid them. Somewhere up this wild track was a sapling, a Talthas sapling. The walk that took hours that morning she made in less than two, moving with the desperation of fear. In her haste she must have passed it for she suddenly burst into the small dale with the brook and startled a hart. She turned and forced herself to move slowly looking all about. In the dark she passed it a second time before retracing her steps. The little sapling was still very young and there were only two leaves on it. T'larin took them both, whispering a prayer to Lalean, the forest spirit as she did so.

By the time T'larin made it back the first gray light of dawn was tinting the sky. She hurried to the girl's side, fearing she had come to late. She was again surprised when she found the girl still breathing. An elf would be dead by now yet the girl was still clinging to life. Maybe the venom was more toxic to her kind. Or maybe she had misjudged this race in her prejudice. She felt slightly ashamed of herself but she had no time to examine these thoughts.

She took both leaves and slowly twisted them until a few precious drops of liquid fell onto the girl's full lips. When her pink tongue gently licked the fluid from her lips T'larin felt a stab of something in the pit of her stomach. Her day's exertions seemed to catch up with her all at once and she felt drained. She dropped the two leaves into a small kettle and brought the water to a boil over the hearth. T'larin bathed the small wound in the sweet smelling water and then dressed it. Having done all she could for the girl she pulled a blanket over the still form and collapsed onto her bed.

T'larin's dreams were chaotic, filled with images of the orcs, the battle at the ford and most hauntingly the human's lips, breasts and sex. In her dream the girl came and sat on her chest, those soft lips descended to press against T'larin's own.

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She awoke to a soft breeze whispering through the trees. The sounds of the camp were pleasant and comfortable, the rattle of cooking utensils, the bard's quiet plucking of his lyre, muted conversations and laughter. It was only when she sat up and saw the girl's still form that the previous days events came flooding back into her mind. The girl was so still that T'larin could not even detect the rise and fall of her chest. Had her long journey in the night been in vain? She tiptoed over and sat next to the prone figure. At first T'larin feared the worst, but up close the even rise and fall of the girl's chest was obvious. Her face was pale, but serene and her breathing untroubled.

T'larin leaned close to see if she could smell the girl's breath. Her lips were almost touching the human's when the dream flooded back to her. T'larin started at the memory and the sudden movement caused the girl to stir and her eyes fluttered open. T'larin expected her to be frightened or upset at the close proximity, but she closed her eyes and her soft lips parted, as if awaiting a kiss. Her breath held no taint of poison, it smelled sweet and clean like the Talthas leaves. The girl did not stir again and T'larin quietly rose and went down to join her men.

The evening meal was usually light and conversation brisk. There was usually a great deal of singing and joking, but this evening it was quiet and subdued. There had been no more fighting, but her men reported a force of orcs camped on the other side of the ford. Orcish scouts kept watch on the ford from the concealment of the trees, just as her men watched from her side. After the meal was done talk turned to the orcs.

"We have to get a feel for their numbers. For all we know there could be an army over there," Erstic said.

"Nonsense, we would have heard an army, or smelled their cook fires. You know orcs, they hack and burn anything they can't violate,"

"These orcs are different," Ral observed.

"How so?"

"Well, they are bigger for one thing, stronger and light doesn't seem to bother them as much. They seem to have better control of their destructive natures too. T'larin, do you remember those reports that your father was getting just before we left?"

"Yes," she said thoughtfully "Something about a tribe of evil men in the south living with the orcs of the Forsaken Mountains,"

"Not just living with, interbreeding with. Your father discounted the rumors as being preposterous, but I wonder now if perhaps these orcs aren't the result,"

"It's possible, did anyone see any tribal markings?"

"I did," a gaunt Elf named Welspar said, "I have never seen them before. I don't know much about the lands to the north, but those we killed yesterday were not from either of the Ergos mountain clans,"

"I suppose I could swim the river after dark and do some scouting," Ral said.

"No, one elf across the river was too many. I'll not risk loosing anyone," T'larin said.

"We have to know," the old elf said.

"We will wait for the girl to come around, perhaps she can tell us more,"

There were many nods and a general ascent to her proposal. T'larin had had no thought of information when she went to rescue the girl, but if her men decided it showed her to be shrewd so much the better. She far preferred them to believe that than to question her motives because even she was not sure of them.

The conversation turned to other concerns and by the time someone requested a song from the bard she was nodding. Saying her good nights she departed from the fire and climbed up to check on the girl. She was still asleep, but had kicked off the blanket. The sight of her nude body caused a peculiar feeling of unease in T'larin and she covered the girl again before falling into her bed.

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T'larin woke suddenly in the early hours of dawn. She knew instinctively she was being watched and in the semi darkness she tried to find the observer. The girl was propped up on one elbow staring at her.

"Well, you're awake at last," T'larin said as she sat up. The girl started but then relaxed.

"I think I am, or maybe I'm dead and this is heaven," the girl said. Her voice was soft and raspy with a strong accent.

"I assure you, you aren't dead," T'larin said and chuckled.

"Where is this place? And who are you? And how did I get here?"

"Easy, first things first, how do you feel?"

"My side hurts and my head. I have memories of horrible pain but everything seems to be working," she said as she stretched. The blanket fell off her shoulder and her breasts were exposed. If this bothered her it did not show. T'larin had to concentrate to keep from staring at them. Elves were a slight people and even when pregnant the average elf's breasts would not be so full as the girl's. In the dim light they looked soft and silky and altogether lovely. Unable to understand her fascination T'larin forced her mind back to the problem at hand.

"You were poisoned, that's the pain you remember. I have a lot of questions I need you to answer, do you feel up to it?"

"I asked first," she said in that strangely sensuous voice.

"So you did," T'larin said perhaps a little loudly. She was feeling very strange, "What would you like to know?"

"Lots of things," she said and smiled, "First off, where am I and how did I get here?"

"You are in the Westermark of the Silverwood. As to how you got here, you were carried,"

"I remember the orcs, and the river. They were all around me. I was about to slit my throat when I heard a buzzing noise, like angry bees. And then they were all dead. I saw an angel running out of the woods on the far side of the river towards me. was that you?"

"Yes,"

"Thank you, for saving my life," she said. That wonderful voce was softer and touched with emotion. T'larin, who had stood in the Elven court and heard the greatest bards of the age perform had never heard anything that sounded so wonderful. She could feel her heartbeat in her chest and felt light headed.

"Your welcome," she managed.

"I have never met an Elf before. I always dreamed of it when I was a child. The stories the grown ups told of how beautiful they were. I never thought I would ever see one, much less owe one my life,"

T'larin did not know what to say to that. When the silence became awkward she cleared her throat and asked, "How did you come to be there?"

The girl chuckled, "a game then, very well, you answered my question I will answer yours. I belong to a mercenary regiment, the sisters of blood. We were hired by King Rollos to fight with his troops,"

"King Rollos?"

"He is king of Baslandia which is north and west of the Ergos Mountains. My turn, I remember someone tending my wounds, her touch was soft and gentle and her words like music, was that you too?"

"I tended your wounds, but I don't think my voice is very musical. Perhaps that was delirium,"

"Your turn," the girl said and smiled.

"Look, I don't have time for a game, I really need to know what's going on," T'larin snapped. She felt edgy and flushed and the feelings were growing stronger.

"I think that you are in command here, you have the looks of a leader and I do owe you my life, so I will answer all of your questions that I can, but you must promise me that you will answer all of mine later,"

"I promise, now can you tell me what happened? We could see nothing of the battle but heard the noise,"

"We marched south from Igros ten days ago, a force of ten thousand foot with a thousand mounted knights and a handful of archers. Three days out we gave battle to a huge force of orcs and other evil creatures on the plain of Shureth. They broke easily and we began the pursuit, confident in our coming victory. Too confident. Two days ago we pressed through the high pass of the World's End Mountains and found the orcs waiting for us in the plain below. They were beyond number, like flies on a corpse. We hand only just engaged them when horns sounded and orcs began to stream out of the mountains. In no time we were surrounded. I cannot even begin to describe the slaughter."

The girl seemed lost in her memories and T'larin fought her impatience down and waited until the girl hesitantly began again.

"My sisters and I fought our way free of the trap along with some of the free companions. The rest of the army was slaughtered. The high pass was closed to us so we marched east hoping to reach the safety of the Singing River. The orcs followed us closely and our leaders soon realized these weren't ordinary orcs; they moved by day as well as night and were far more disciplined. Only a small part of the host followed us, the rest must be sweeping through Baslandia as we speak,"

"How many followed you?"

"I can only guess, but they number in the thousands. They caught up with us yesterday and we turned to give battle. I was sent with a small company to try and find out how far we were from the river. I did not see the end of my sisters, but it must have been quick. My company and I were just on the other side of the woods when more orcs ambushed us. These were ordinary orcs, perhaps one of the mountain tribes. We fought hard and it looked like we might win through when we were taken in the rear by the van of that force sent after us. My sword broke on the iron collar one of them wore and I was ridden down by another mounted on a warhorse using a spear as a lance. Several of them were mounted upon horses like men and we were ill prepared for that. I crawled into the woods and heard the river. I was hoping to get a drink for my throat was burning. You know the rest of my tale, better than I do,"

"Yes, much better. You have been unconscious for three days,"

"No one else has made it across the river?"

"My men have seen nothing, save orcs,"

The girl nodded and looked down. When she looked up her eyes were filled with tears. T'larin was usually very aloof, but something touched her and she moved to the girl and wrapped her arms around her. The quiet tears turned to ragged sobs as her emotions overpowered her control. T'larin simply held her, gently stroking her hair as she would a child. The girl held T'larin tightly and cried for several minutes. T'larin could feel the girl's breasts against her own and the softness of her skin. Somehow she had always imagined humans to have rough skin, but the girl's was satiny and warm. When the human regained her composure T'larin sat back.