[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]daring to survey some of the enshrouded hills and trees. Even with her superior eyesight, most resembled
little more than black shapes. That only served to make her surroundings feel more oppressive and
dangerous, even though there might not be an orc for miles.
Her sword still sheathed, Vereesa ventured farther. She came upon a pair of gnarled trees, still alive but
just barely. Touching each in turn, the elf could feel their weariness, their readiness to die. She could also
sense some of their history, going far back before the terror of the Horde. Once, Khaz Modan had been
a healthy land, one where, Vereesa knew, the hill dwarves and others had made their homes. The
dwarves, however, had fled under the relentless onslaught of the orcs, vowing someday to return.
The trees, of course, could not flee.
For the hill dwarves, the day of return would come soon, the elf felt, but by then it would probably be
too late for these trees and many like them. Khaz Modan was a land needing many, many decades to
recoup if it ever could.
Courage, she whispered to the pair. A new Spring will come, I promise you. In the language of the
trees, of all plants, Spring meant not only a season, but also hope in general, a renewal of life.
As the elf stepped back, both trees looked a little straighter, a little taller. The effect of her words on
them made Vereesa smile. The greater plants had methods beyond even the ken of elves through which
they communicated with one another. Perhaps her encouragement would be passed on. Perhaps some of
them would survive after all. She could only hope.
Her brief rapport with the trees lightened the burden on both her mind and heart. The rocky hills no
longer felt so foreboding. The elf moved along more readily now, certain that matters would yet turn out
for the best, even in regards to Rhonin.
The end of her watch came far more quickly than she had assumed it would. Vereesa almost thought of
letting Falstad sleep longer his snoring indicated that he had sunken deep but she also knew that she
would only be a liability if her lack of rest later caused her to falter in battle. With some reluctance, the elf
headed back to her companion
and stopped as the nearly inaudible sound of a dried branch cracking warned that something or
someone drew near.
Not daring to wake Falstad for fear of losing the element of surprise, Vereesa walked straight past the
slumbering gryphon-rider and his mount, pretending interest in the dark landscape beyond. She heard
more slight movement, again from the same direction. Only one intruder, perhaps? Maybe, maybe not.
The sound could have been meant to draw her in that very direction, the better to prevent Vereesa from
discovering other foes waiting in silence.
Again came the slight sound of movement followed by a savage squawk and a huge form leaping from
nearby her.
Vereesa had her weapon ready even as she realized that it had been Falstad's gryphon who had reacted,
not some monstrous creature in the woods. Like her, the animal had heard the faint noise, but, unlike the
elf, the gryphon had not needed to weigh options. He had reacted with the honed instincts of his kind.
What is it? snarled Falstad, leaping to his feet quite effortlessly for a dwarf. Already he had his
stormhammer drawn and ready for combat.
Something among those old trees! Something your mount went after!
Well, he'd better not eat it until we've the chance to see what it is!
In the dark, Vereesa could just make out the shadowy form of the gryphon, but not yet its adversary.
The ranger could, however, hear another cry over those of the winged beast, a cry that did not sound at
all like a challenge.
No! No! Away! Away! Get off of me! No tidbit am I!
The pair hurried toward the frantic call. Whatever the gryphon had cornered certainly sounded like no
threat. The voice reminded the elf of someone, but who, she could not say.
Back! Falstad called to his mount. Back, I say! Obey!
The leonine avian seemed disinclined at first to listen, as if what he had captured he felt either belonged
to him or could not be trusted free. From the darkness just beyond the beaked head came whimpering.
Muchwhimpering.
Had some child managed to wander alone out here in the midst of Khaz Modan? Surely not. The orcs
had held this territory for years! Where would such a child have come from?
Please, oh, please, oh, please! Save this insignificant wretch from this monster Pfaugh!What breath it
has!
The elf froze. No child spoke like that.
Back, blast you! Falstad swatted his mount on the rump. The animal stretched his wings once, let out a
throaty squawk, then finally backed away from his prey.
A short, wiry figure leapt up and immediately began heading in the opposite direction. However, the
ranger moved more swiftly, racing forward and snagging the intruder by what Vereesa realized was one
lengthy ear.
Ow! Please don't hurt! Please don't hurt!
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