“Grab ‘em!” The guardsmen shouted as they pursued Veryyn and Barron swiftly down a dirty, mostly forgotten dead-end alleyway. Cornered now, Veryyn calmed his companion. “Easy boy…” Barron released a low snarl, his face contorted and viney. “Come now, you’ve nowhere to go, outlaw. Calm your beast and come with us. The captain is very interested in a chat with the likes of you!” The guard, in his shiny, well-polished armor made a grab for the slender figure and in a wisp of black and blue, he reeled forward empty-handed. He looked at his companion, with a look of surprise, who quickly jabbed at the gruesome face of Barron with his pole-mounted blade.
With a snap, Barron’s mouth, if you could call it that, slammed shut over the pole, splintering it in two or more. The guardsman let out a welp as searing heat penetrated his side. Veryyn withdrew his blade and in an instant was again in the shadows. The remaining guardsman squared off with Barron. “You won’t get away with this, tree demon!”, the remaining guardsman shouted and in an instant he withdrew, turned about and ran to the street. In an instant, Veryyn stood over the fallen. “Quite a companion you have there. Perhaps you should consider another profession”, Veryyn calmly addressed to the wounded guard, who laid in the street, writhing in pain.
“You will survive that wound, if you apply a bit of pressure. When you are healed, deliver this message to Kardone. This tree demon has come to collect on the captain’s debt.” With a wordless acknowledgment, the fallen guard clutched his side and closed his eyes. Words seemed to be too much work as he focused on keeping pressure on his leaking wound. The town seemed to come alive with sound outside of the alleyway, and the tall hooded figure knelt down next to his trusty friend. “I believe we have overstayed our welcome Barron.” and with one long slender hand, Veryyn gave him a rough caress on the back of his head.
Quickly the pair made their retreat out of the dusty alleyway and down the dirty street. Away in the distance, inside the sturdy fortress walls, horns sounded and there was a great commotion. “Spare a copper!” said a lowly city elf, hunched over her children in a decrepit fashion with outstretched palms. Veryyn eyed her with pity as he strode by proudly, but made no response. “This city is a blight.” He whispered to Barron as they stole through the streets and made for the countryside. He looked back at the lights of Nearborne and took to the ragged underbrush as the streets became less defined and were little more than animal-beaten paths.
The pair traveled through the night as the crisp early night breeze cooled them. They paid little moms to their pursuers, as the humans tended to be clumsy and heavy-footed, and with their best trackers would not have much luck. Veryyn and his kind left little sign, and his companion Barron was of the woods, and somehow maintained an even lighter step than the tall, dark elf. “Evie will not be pleased…” Veryyn muttered, with a knot growing in his stomach. Barron shook his head and sputtered in agreement. “However, it’s high time those stub-eared folk got a taste of their own medicine, consequences be damned.” Barron let out a knowing snort, as if he did not believe Evie would be so understanding.
After a long walk, they approached the tree line in the early rising hours, as they had so many times before in the previous months. Barron lead the way some distance, wagging happily along as they neared the burrow. Inside the trees, they regrouped, as the path was tricky and it always seemed better to be together. “Stay close, bud, nearly there.” Trudging through the wood, and undergrowth, they traveled where there was no path, but with intention. Amid the hickory, they found a familiar oak, and crawling upon the ground, Veryyn slid under a large protruding root where he did find something very much out of place. In the cobblestone wall ahead, laid a copper colored door, adorned with the blocky Drawven script he had come to study. “Elves were not meant to live this way.” Veryyn spoke even as he unlatched the port and entered the sprawling underground caverns below.
Entering the cavern, Veryyn breathed his last breath of forest air before securing the hatch behind him. The cavern was vast, but the dusty air seemed to choke him, if only in spirit. The dank underground walls were lined with warm glowing torchstones that emitted an eerie light and deep heat. The vast entryway seemed to be lined with never ending passageways, remnants of a sprawling underground fortress that history had forgotten. The smell of wild game, seared and seasoned, filled the halls. “How did it go?” A stout dwarven maiden called, from the second hallway from the left. “You didn’t happen to gather any sugar on your little adventure, did you?”
Veryyn stepped into the room, which must have been a grand kitchen in times gone by. A simple table was covered in the center of the room, comically small compared to the grand dwarven cook stove and endless prep stations. “It smells delicious, hare?” “Indeed,” Evie replied, “Three of them, and wild onions besides. The white hares are easy to spot this time of year. In the old days, there was still snow covering the trees this time of year. Bounty for us, but it is a sad thing to think of.””Evie,” Veryyn cut her short sharply. “I have news, and not the best kind. The humans are increasing patrols. I hardly made it within view of the walls before we were discovered.”
“Perhaps you are losing your touch, pointy.” Evie chortled, but her face did not carry it’s usual rosy cheerfulness. Evie has mad a grand meal of roots and berries, wild roasted hare, and as fine a loaf of elven-styled bread as one could imagine stubby dwarven fingers preparing. Together, with their trusty companion Barron, they caught up on the happenings of the day. Evie spoke of rabbits, and baking, and a remembrance of an old triumph. Veryyn spoke of an attempted raid on the city stores, and of the guards and the pursuit, but verily omitted the personal message he had left for Kardone. If there were anything more terrifying than the pursuit of hordes of those shining soldiers, it was the fury of his stout maiden. As the sun crept above the trees outside of their forgotten burrow, the odd pair crept to bed, and their eyes closed slowly, with Barron curled up upon the stony floor below their feet.
Ricky Hurlich Shorts 