As he walked beside Neoma with only the soft whispering of branches and leaves jostled by the wind to break the eerie silence that hung over the forest, Algrim was acutely aware of how exposed they were in their current position, how easy a target they would present to archers hiding in the trees.
The woods were deep and bodies easily disposed of.
While there was a slim chance that the rebels they had encountered earlier would have the good sense not to accost them a second time for fear of retribution from Algrim’s liege, intuition told him that the men, after having identified him as potentially valuable, might prefer to hold them ransom rather than try to kill them. For what seemed like the hundredth time, Algrim found himself questioning his decision to travel with only a single, inexperienced guard who had yet to cut her teeth in battle.
Fortunately, Neoma did not blunder again, but regardless of their effort not to draw attention to themselves, luck was not in their favour. The stranger who intercepted their path did not seem to recognise Algrim as the others had before. Was it possible that the two men had not yet made it back to their camp? Or was the elf before them affiliated with a different group of rebels? Given the vastness of the terrain, it was very well possible that the forest served as a hiding place to more than just one band of outlaws.
The stranger appeared civil almost to the point of mockery, hiding his true intentions behind a debonair smile and suave demeanour. A noble turned rogue, perhaps? Algrim met his smile with a reserved one of his own. He had no doubt that they were being watched from the shadows.
“Trespassed,” Algrim repeated slowly, thinking it better not to mention the earlier incident. “You are aware, of course, that these woods — like the whole of Svartalfheim — are under the protection of our king Malekith, who guarantees safe passage to all who travel under his banner.” He let that sink in for a moment, knowing that the name of the Accursed had a weight to it that was often enough to discourage opposition. “I am sure an agreement can be reached. Let us pass through these woods unmolested and no word of what transpires here shall ever reach the palace.”
The man wagged his head. “What a pair you are. A drakeling and a diplomat.” He gave a quiet laugh. “No word will reach the palace regardless of whether or not we agree to your terms,” he stated ominously. “Now come—” he motioned for them to follow him, “—let us go somewhere where we may speak without distraction. I would like to know who I am dealing with — and what you can do for us.”
At a signal of their leader, half a dozen armed warriors stepped from between the trees, two of whom pulled strips of cloth from their pockets to blindfold their prisoners. “Then, we shall decide if your lives are worth sparing.”
It took every ounce of restraint to not jump on the men and cut them from navel to throat. She looked towards Algrim wiith a very concerned look. At his lead, she reluctantly allowed the men to disarm and blindfold her. Her survival instincts were screaming and she took a few deep breaths to calm herself.
She felt warm, rough hands gently grab her arms and lead her through the forest. They were kind enough to warn her when to step over tangled roots. Overhead she could hear the wind flowing through the canopy and a few birds, but otherwise the wood was quiet.
She went through everything her father and brother had taught her, but the dragon clan was a pack. If only she could have gotten Muckrot to teach her how he survived in the wild lands by himself. He would know what to do. She still wasn’t sure why the perpetually grumpy warrior wasn’t here instead of her, but it was details that did not matter. She needed to focus on what was around her.
She tried to focus on the one guiding her, their touch, their smell. But every time she was distracted by stumbling around blinded. She found it difficult to focus and she told herself this was an exercise she needed to practice if she survived this. She wondered if her death would be noticed, if the dragon clan would take revenge. They wanted the bloodline continued, but did she matter that much? She had little doubt that Malekith would raise hell on anyone who harmed Algrim.
She was unable to determine how long they were guided but soon the tangled wood was replaced by gravel and she felt the nearby presence of something large. She smelt a dusty, almost metallic scent. Stone. Were there mountains nearby? She felt cold air brush against her skin and she shivered. She couldn’t hear Algrim anymore and panic welled up inside her. She didn’t want to fail the first time she was given responsibility.
She slipped on the gravel a few times as larger stones caught her off balance but each time the hands at her arms caught her. Finally, well after her legs were tense and burning with effort, the ground gave way to easy, smooth, level ground. It was worked by elves. She could hear whispers and gasps. She could only make out a few words, most were frightened of these outlanders.
She felt cloth brush against her arms and face and than the warmth, smell, and light of a fire. The hands that had been guiding her took off her blindfold and she found herself in a large tent with a hole in the center to vent the smoke. Ten guards stood behind her and a very battle scarred elf stood before. Next to him was a younger elf female who Neoma was quick to notice was a shaman. She frowned at her. The shamans were of dragon clan and always in the dragon lands. If she was here, it was not at the behest of their clan.
The man smiled at Neoma, “Look Malinda, we found a lost drakeling. I thought they traveled in packs”. Malinda looked at Neoma with interest, “They do, they are hunted in the wild lands”. “So, strangers, do you mind explaining why you travel in secret so deep into the tangled lands?”
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