Inns and Invocations Ch. 01

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Conall whirled around, blade at the ready. "Show yourself already!" he snarled.

Above him, a branch groaned under load. "Not bad. It took only three days for you to notice me." Gael dropped lithely to the ground, his grinning, tattooed face not one bit more pleasant to look at in daylight.

"Why the skulking anyway? If you wanted to offer assistance, you could have done so much earlier," Conall growled, picking up the pace. He was headed north and east, trying to quit the Elven Woods as quickly as possible.

"I was not quite sure if I wanted to offer you more help but seeing how your haste might get you killed and waste all the support I've lavished upon you, I've reconsidered." Gael said, easily keeping pace. Contrary to Conall, he made no sound at all. "You might want to slow down a tad. Some black cloaks are camping maybe three hundred paces to the east and the way you are ploughing through the underbrush, they might hear you well before you espy them."

"You didn't kill them already?"

Gael shook his head. "I don't know your opinion on me but I tend to avoid battles not already skewed in my favor. Contrary to your former men, these seem alert and, above all, highly motivated."

"I could try and talk my way past them." Conall touched the pommel of his sword. "Should things turn sour, you could aid with your bow."

"I have a better idea. Come here a moment." Gael offered his hand.

Conall placed his hand in the elf's. Gael touched the trunk of the closest tree and sang a few words in Elven. Before Conall could ask what he had done, Gael changed the grip on Conall's arm and pulled, dragging the surprised soldier into the tree. There was a confused moment full of a fresh, wooden aroma and the feeling of swimming through sap, then another stumbling step before the crisp chill of the December noon flooded his lungs again.

"What...?" Conall gasped, reeling.

"This forest may be on its last legs but our ancient rapport with wood and leaf still works... sometimes," Gael said, plucking a few bits of bark from his hair. Ahead, the forest thinned visibly, making way for snow-covered, rolling hills.

"Where are we?"

"If the trees didn't play a cruel prank, we should be standing at the eastern edge of the forest. It's only a hundred miles to your Old Kingdom from here and most of it is Orc country. Find yourself a horse, a mule or even a riding lizard and you should be back home in a flash."

"How can I thank you?" Conall asked, extending a hand. "For saving my life and now this?"

Gael grinned, his face distorted into a ghastly visage. "Promise me you'll turn into a royal thorn in Carver's side. That ought to be enough."

Conall gnashed his teeth. "First I'm going to save my family then I'll try and find someone willing to take the fight to Carver. There have to be people in the Old Kingdom not content with the way things are now."

"Good luck finding them," Gael said, slapping Conall's shoulder. "Don't get yourself killed... again."

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Thanks for your time.

(c)Blind_Justice 2022