The Wood Knot Warrior

Then there was the vast gulf between what her coworkers found intellectually stimulating and what she did, which just increased her feelings of isolation. Her voracious mind couldn't focus on trivialities and needed broader stimulus, not found in the company of these lightweights.

She pushed all that aside and returned her focus to the task at hand. Eryllis' basket was almost full as she was the best collector in the group. This was another cause for their dislike.

Eryllis suddenly spotted the telltale orange and brown banding of a rare and valuable tuber as they moved forward. These were delicate and difficult to harvest.

"I need silence as I've found a Hissing Root," she said firmly.

The others burst into muted curses and sounds of frustration at her outrageous fortune. Several went so far as to assert that she was always given the best path on their hunts. As the ladies' paths were always completely random, there was no merit to the complaints, but that didn't stop the others from agreeing.

She scowled at them, and they fell silent. The technique for tracing the banded root back to the tuber required utmost concentration and sharp ears. A delicate tap on the side of the root produced an almost silent hiss that moved in the direction of the tuber. The roots could be quite long as they gathered different nutrients back to their source. The longer the path, the larger the reward.

She moved her ear closer to the orange and brown and tapped it with the flat of her knife. The sound went forward and to the right. She moved her basket and cleared away the leaves and mulch to expose the next bit of the root. She tapped it again and heard it curving off to the right once more.

She repeated this again, then once more, but the root just continued on.

The others were now fully engaged with her effort as they'd never seen anyone find such a long root. The tuber at the end was beginning to grow to mammoth proportions in their minds. While some continued to hold a grudge for her luck, none could deny their excitement at the hunt.

Eryllis was amazed when the root guided her through a row of trees toward the cliffs above the surf. The ocean below was a drop of probably three times her height, so she was naturally careful not to get too close to the edge. The water was hidden below a low fog, but she could hear it crashing against the rocks. The sound made it more difficult to hear the hiss when she tapped the root, but if she was correct, the tuber was just ahead under the thick wet grasses at the edge.

She used her knife to clear the grasses and soil away from the root, and her eyes widened when she saw the top of the mammoth tuber. She looked back at the others in excitement and saw them at the treeline, staring back with wide, frightened eyes.

Before she had time to turn, a thick fog enveloped her. It had slipped up the cliff face to cover the edge. She suddenly realized she could no longer hear the surf, so she couldn't tell which way she was facing.

"Hessia! Lyyrall! Jorina!" she called out but heard no reply. "Garis! Pheo! Ivalis!" Nothing.

She looked down at her feet and could no longer see the hole she dug to expose the tuber.

Then she heard it. A low rumble, almost too quiet for ears to pick up. It was coming from ahead of her. She was too frightened to move as she didn't know where the cliff's edge was, but she assumed it wasn't forward as that's where the noise was coming from. When she could get her muscles to work again, she took a cautious step to the side, gingerly pressing her foot down to confirm it was solid ground. Then she took a second step, and it was good too. The noise suddenly got louder, and she quickly stepped sideways, but her foot met no resistance.

She was falling.

She grabbed at the edge as she passed, but the grasses slipped through her fingers.

Then pain... darkness... and nothing.

-=-

Voices whispered above her in frightened tones.

Eryllis cracked her eyes open, but all she could see was mist. She was still in the fog?

"Do you think she's dead?"

That voice belonged to Jorina. She wanted to respond, but she felt a terrible lethargy, and her head hurt.

"Do you want to climb all the way down there and search for her body?"

Lyyrall. That was Lyyrall. They couldn't see her?

"Do you see the size of this Hissing Root tuber? I've never seen one so large!" Ivalis said in awe.

"Eryllis' basket is here. We could fill our baskets from hers and head back early," Hessia suggested. "We're going to have to report she was taken by the fog, anyway. We might as well get a head start on that."

Eryllis opened her mouth to scream at them to rescue her, but a wave of dizziness washed over her.

Garis snorted. "If we bring this tuber back, Haleth probably won't even notice Eryllis didn't return with us."

"Let's divide the basket up between us," Lyyrall said. "We're going to have to create a sling to carry the tuber back."

"It's too bad Eryllis didn't drop the support she uses for her fat tits before she fell into the ocean," Jorina snorted, and the others all laughed.

Eryllis ground her teeth together as her rage suddenly exploded. She wanted to kill them all!

As she bathed in an inferno of hate for these bitches, she felt something answer that desire.

"Let's get back to the shop. I can't wait to see the look on Haleth's face when we tell her that her darling granddaughter stupidly fell off a cliff into the ocean!" Lyyrall giggled, starting the others as well. Their voices quickly faded as they rushed away.

Eryllis' jaw dropped open as she desperately wanted to scream curses after the fleeing females, but she was too injured to make more than a quiet croak.

The need to act was building steadily, and once more, she felt something answering. Turning her eyes to the left, she could see a bundle of driftwood wedged between the rocks she'd fallen on. One... one of them seemed to glow faintly.

Her left arm was badly bruised, but she could move it. Unfortunately, she discovered this caused pain in her chest as something inside was broken. Still, she inched her hand closer to the glow, stifling her gasps as sharp pains went through her chest.

Finally, she managed to get a fingertip on the smooth surface. Images of her crushing those snide faces under her foot flashed into her mind, and she gasped as she wrapped her fingers around the polished piece of driftwood. Her anger was spinning out of control, but she was still too injured to do anything about it.

"mine."

She didn't know who said that, but she felt a presence telling her to simply ask for help. It wanted to help, but she had to instigate.

"Heal me..." she gasped, almost silently.

Power rushed down her arm and filled her body. The damage inside her body, every fractured bone, torn ligament, bruise, cut, tear, and scrape suddenly flashed red with heat, and she screamed, the sound echoing throughout the forest.

She lost consciousness once more.

-=-

Fine raindrops fell on Eryllis' cheeks, cooling her skin, and she gasped awake. The memory of her pain sent a shock through her, but it was already fading. She sat up and saw she was sitting on the grasses atop the cliff.

Somehow, she'd climbed up from the rocks below, but she had no memory of how she did it. She looked down to her left, and there was a gorgeous Druid's staff. She recognized the design from the magic users who passed through her village. None of them had carried such a grand-looking staff. She picked it up, admired the workmanship that went into its construction, and ran her fingers along its polished surface. There were silk-wrapped rings of metal at intervals down the shaft.

As she held it in her grip, she realized she wasn't going to give it up. It was hers!

She had no formal training in Druid magic, but she wasn't unfamiliar with the principles as she read every book she could get her hands on. She'd also discovered she had a better-than-average aptitude for magic. However, her grandmother refused to teach her anything above the basics needed for her work. She kept her too busy collecting ingredients and preparing potions to spend time on training and honing her neglected skills.

It felt like the woman was intentionally holding her back from her destiny as one of the greatest mages Leinyere had ever seen!

A rush went through her body as she came to this epiphany. She could see her life plan laid out before her, and she knew it was up to her to make it happen! She just needed to break free from her grandmother's prison first.

She pushed herself to her feet and smiled at how good she felt physically and mentally, now that it seemed like she was seeing clearly for the first time in her life.

She needed to go home and pack. It was time to leave the small dead-end village and see the world.

Before she left, though, those evil bitches needed a lesson in who not to fuck with.

She smiled as she picked up her now empty basket with her right hand and walked back into the forest to head back home. With the magnificent staff held in her left hand, she felt absolutely no fear of being in the woods alone. It was like the forest was holding its breath to see what she would do!

What a heady feeling!

-=-

Eryllis made it back to Ghelli'Talesh and the shop without being seen and slipped inside and up to her room unnoticed. She hid the staff in her room as there was no way she would let anyone take it from her.

Making her way back downstairs, she spotted her grandmother.

"Where were you? These idiots returned, claiming you'd been eaten by the fog!" Haleth snapped, then her eyes landed on Eryllis' empty basket. "And you have nothing to show for your time out gathering? At least each of them returned with full baskets! And--"

"An enormous Hissing Root?" Eryllis offered as her temper simmered.

Haleth stopped and narrowed her eyes at her granddaughter.

"I filled my basket, and yes, I found the root. I was about to dig it up at the cliff's edge when I was suddenly swallowed up in a fog and slipped over the edge." She couldn't tell her what really happened, so a truncated version would have to do. Keep it simple. "I was stuck," she gestured to her torn clothes. "But I didn't die. They made no effort to find me but divided the spoils instead."

Haleth watched the younger woman for a moment as something felt off.

"And you have proof of these charges?" Haleth demanded.

Eryllis gaped at her grandmother in shock. She didn't believe her? She'd never lied to the woman, and now she was doubting her word?

"That's what I thought. Go to the forest's edge and bring back what little you can find. You need to control that temper of yours and follow my instructions, or you're of no use to me!" the grandmother snapped.

In a daze, her anger threatening to blind her, Eryllis left the shop, hearing the giggles of the bitches as the door closed. She discovered the staff was in her right hand as she began to walk toward the edge of town. So, it wouldn't stay behind. She nodded with a smile and moved on.

On the far edge of town were some simple accommodations built for visitors who were not welcome within the center of the village. A small roadhouse had been constructed next to the basic cottages to serve the needs of these visitors. As she passed by, she noticed four Human guardsmen sitting outside. They were likely the escort for some important visitor who could enter the village. They'd wait here until their client was ready to head back.

The four males spotted Eryllis and called out to her, offering to accompany her into the woods to protect her. The ones who'd had too much beer made less polite suggestions.

She saw their uniforms and her memories flashed back to the Human who raped her long ago. Her mind filled with a flash of red.

When she continued on, the four men were on the ground, being violently ill from both ends.

She walked on in a daze, the adrenaline from her sudden rage giving her the shakes. She calmed down and slipped into the woods, the guardsmen forgotten.

Eryllis scowled at her basket's empty state. She felt the staff tugging her, so she followed the pull and came across a hidden cluster of rare mushrooms. Smiling with glee, she used her little hand spade to dig up the treasures and filled her basket.

She took a different route home and collected some rare flowers to decorate the carrier. Slipping back inside the shop's back door, she hid the staff once more in her room, then brought the bounty to Haleth, dropping it on her desk.

The woman stared at the rare flowers and mushrooms in surprise.

"Here's proof of who's the better collector," Eryllis said, then gave the other workers a wintry smile. She then returned to her room.

She examined the staff once more and felt strong with it in her hands. She smiled as she suddenly recalled how she punished the soldiers who showed her such disrespect tonight.

Just as quickly, her mind filled with the face of the man who raped her. Once she recovered from her shock, she smiled once more as she realized she now had the means to get her revenge against him.

The night it happened, she'd been so horrified that she'd fled all the way home in the dark, sticking to the road for the limited safety it gave travelers, but the dark woods surrounding her offered no terrors greater than what filled her mind. She collapsed from exhaustion the next morning and slept for hours on the side of the road. When she woke, she continued on until she finally reached home. She hid in her room for months. Her grandmother couldn't get her to speak of what caused this, but her rage exploded again and again during those nights. Finally, her grandmother said enough and sent her away to receive mental care. The treatment she received only calmed her nightmares. The rage persisted.

She imagined him now, years later, laughing with his friends, enjoying the benefits of being one of the city guardsmen, and seeking other victims.

No more. In the morning, she would begin her journey to Grennesh to deal with him once and for all.

Chapter 3

Perris la Blayne rode his mount through the tall grasses of the plains with his eyes always on his final destination.

For months he'd ridden west, toward the mountains of his home, a place he was no longer welcome.

Welcome or not, he was headed there to finish some long-unsettled business. The man who stole his home and future from him was going to pay this debt with his life.

Perris had once been a promising young officer in the Grennesh Guardsmen, fast-tracking to be the next Captain of the Guard. He was well liked by his peers and admired by the ladies. He had more than his share of companions to keep his bed warm at night.

It didn't hurt that he was tall, dark, and handsome, with a strong jaw, a dazzling smile, and piercing blue eyes. He exercised his muscles diligently to be the strongest fighter and had the body to back up that claim. Training hard with the best swordsmen he could find, his skills were honed until he was one of, if not the most skilled swordsman in the guard.

As one of Grennesh's elite guardsmen, they had certain unspoken privileges. When they blew off a little steam after a long day, the on-duty guards always looked the other way if they pushed the boundaries of the law, as one day, it might be them.

Perris had been celebrating his birthday, of all things, the day his privileges should have guaranteed him free rein to bust loose.

He'd become jaded with the city's offering of bed warmers and was hungry for something new.

As he and two of his best mates were leaving a tavern, they came across a female Wood Elf with surprisingly full breasts.

Perris had never had one of the tall, dark-skinned beauties, so he decided he wanted this one as his birthday gift to himself.

They pulled her into an alley, and Perris had only begun to enjoy himself when he was blindsided by someone with one hell of a right cross. He struck his head as he fell, so he was out of the fight. His mates took off, leaving him to take the fall on his own.

Again, normally such indiscretions would have been swept under the rug, but the man who came to the rescue of the Wood Elf had connections and insisted on a proper trial for the transgression against a member of the Wood Elf community. His little bit of fun suddenly became a huge political nightmare, and the city and city guard leaders had no choice but to charge him with rape and a number of other lesser crimes. It was a forgone conclusion that he would be found guilty, and it was only his stellar record and the remaining friends he had on the inside that reduced his sentence from thirty years imprisonment to losing his commission and being exiled.

The hate he felt in his heart for that self-righteous bastard could not be denied. He vowed on the day he rode from the city gates that he would be back to get his vengeance.

In the years he'd been away, he sought out trainers in new fighting techniques to improve his skills even further. He'd also honed his sword-fighting skills by apprenticing with several sword masters until he became one of the deadliest men to hold a blade.

To earn his keep, he worked as a mercenary, and his latest contract was working security for a caravan that skirted the Windscour Desert. He personally dispatched over a dozen bandits on that journey, and the caravan master offered him a permanent position with them.

But Perris had a different destiny in mind.

As they returned to their home base, they came across a nomadic tribe who offered to trade with them. The patriarch and chief of the nomads had once been a big man, but time and the fierce conditions of living in the desert had slowly drained his strength. His piercing pale blue gaze told Perris that the man had seen things in his life no one should carry in their memories.

Perris noted the old one wore a unique scabbard comprised of intricately woven leather strips on his hip. The sword's pommel caught his eye, and when Perris asked him about it, the old man's eyes locked on his for long seconds before he answered. He claimed the sword was cursed. He'd discovered it buried in the sands deep in the desert when he was just a youth. It had been guarded by a dozen dead mercenaries. He said it brought grief to those trapped by its call.

While Perris' father had told him the story of a cursed but undefeatable blade that had been cast far into the desert, he'd thought it was just a myth. Using every bit of his charm at his disposal, he was finally able to convince the old man to draw the sword. Once he saw the exquisite craftsmanship, Perris was convinced he was looking at the genuine article. He knew this weapon was the key to taking his life back. With it in his hand, no one could stand in his way.

He offered the chief a small fortune for the weapon, but the old man slid the blade back into its scabbard with a fierce shake of his head. He said he would not sell it. As he walked away, he said he would protect the world from the curse for as long as he still had breath in his body.

The man had honor.

Unfortunately for the chief, Perris did not.

He would not be denied his grand future. He pulled his own sword and charged at the man. He saw a look of shock and dismay cross the man's face when he discovered he couldn't pull the cursed blade free from its sheath. Perris' sword caught the man across his throat, and he watched the chief fall.

Standing over the dying man, he saw fear, sadness, then finally pity in those pale eyes before life left them. He took a brief moment to wonder what that meant.

Hearing the thump of running feet, Perris grabbed the grip of the cursed blade, and it smoothly slipped free of its scabbard. The old man's two sons burst into the tent and drew their swords, but Perris quickly killed them both, wielding two swords at once. The two younger nomads bled out on the carpeted floor as he stared in amazement at his new weapon. He'd never dual-wielded in his life, yet it felt completely natural to him. His father's stories about the blade had failed to mention how good it felt to use it.