Ricky Hurlich Shorts

Veryyn’s Tale, part 8

Stirring from an uneasy sleep, Kardone roused slowly. He had not slept well after the mixed reports he had received from his scouts the day before. Six companies of men had been sent to secure the Nearlands. The cleansing of his castle and city had gone off relatively smoothly. In contrast, heavy losses had been sustained on the eastern coastal settlements and had left him agitated. Perhaps he had been hasty in sending men along the coast where the sea-faring elves had many allies. “Dirty knife-ears.” He muttered as he rolled from his plush comfort. Kardone walked quietly to his full length mirror and dressed for the day.

The sun streamed through the curtains. The castle was quiet, and in disarray. Little help could be found with the upkeep of the castle, as most of those positions had been filled by Elven hands. “Good riddance…” he muttered again. The servants that remained struggled to handle the extra work, and the kitchen hearth had been cold for a full day. “Jesse, come in here.” Kardone said loudly. Quickly and quietly, Jesse entered the warden’s chambers. He carried with him roughly sliced meat and bread. It would have to do for his breakfast today. “Cold breakfast again?” He said, irritated at the low morale that had been festering within the castle. “Cold again today, but I think our stores will last for quite some time. Men were sent out last night to gather the extra hands we need around here.” Jesse said, as he set the fine silver tray he carried roughly on the bed.

They carried out their morning ritual of armor fitting. Leaving his quarters, Kardone and Jesse filed past the guards who stood sentry outside. The king’s advisor, Leif, crept from a nearby hallway, where he had remained unseen waiting for the presence of his warden. “Have any more messengers returned in the night?” Kardone asked. “None, sir.” Leif said in his spastic manner. The warden and his companion made a heavy jingle with every step as they strode down the grand corridor. The advisor who crept beside them made no sound that did not come out of his mouth. “Send a message to the East. Have every man return. We will regroup and ride as a single army. Overwhelming force to stomp flat the elven supporters. What kind of man would shelter an elf, anyway?”

“No man, only worms.” Leif replied. The warden seemed pleased at the comment. Together, the three men walked and talked as they made their way to the great court. The warden had a great deal of kingly business to attend to. There were the matters of replacing the lost servants in the castle, as well as disputes over who should have claim over the forfeited elven property. These were just the matters within his own city. Far and wide, many sought the warden’s decision. As a ruler, we had been known to be firm and fair, as it pertains to human affairs. The day rolled on as people shuffled about the court. In and out they came and went. The warden slumped further in his chair as the day drew on. It was as though the weight of the decisions he made weighed upon him literally, as his thoughts strayed to the battlefields past and future. Those were places where he would much rather be.

At midday, the court took a break. The warden retreated to his massive dining hall. Although it was large enough for two hundred men, he sat alone. Jesse stood sentry nearby and several of his guard littered the great hall. Although the warden spent most of his day with Jesse, Kardone could not remember the last time he had seen him eat. He would not trouble himself with silly thoughts like that now. Many matters were settled, but many more would be resolved by the end of the day. Kardone chomped loudly on his fine meal and drank deeply from his heavy iron mug.

Without warning, there was a great tussle outside of the western doors of the great hall. Kardone quickly wiped his face and took to his feet, racing to the sound of the commotion. Jesse drew his sword and flew to the door. Before he could reach it, the great doors slammed shut. Jesse hit it with his shoulder, but to no avail. Outside the door, there had been piled the bodies of several guards, and the slamming of heavy furniture rang inside the dining hall, assuring that it would not be opened.. Turning about, the warden and his companion watched as several guardsmen shed their heavy armor. Beneath the metal helms were elven faces, and the warden noticed that several other guardsmen already laid unceremoniously across the floor slain.

“Kardone!” Jesse’s voice rang out in the hall as the false guardsmen made a dash for the warden. They assumed a reckless charge with swords raised above their head. Standing his ground, the warden easily parried the first, running him through an sidestepping as the elven body landed lifelessly on the cold stone floor. Resetting himself, Kardone prepared for the next attack. Before the next few could arrive at their mark, Jesse had reached the warden and in a great arc he expertly swung his sword. The heads of two elves were freed from their shoulders and made a light plop upon the ground an instant before their respective lifeless bodies crumpled down.

With a great commotion, many guardsmen poured in running from the eastern door. A good number of them already had the look of battle weariness, and shouted for their warden. Jesse and Kardone looked up and brought them to a walk as they walked towards them calmly. Shaking his head and spewing insults, the warden berated his soldiers for their poor performance. He shouted orders to secure the western door immediately, and many men were off to make the long walk around. “Come Jesse, there are spies among us. How is it possible that they penetrated the guard?” The two walked out, leaving the many lifeless bodies sprawled here and there to be cleaned up. The warden brought his boot to one of his own guardsmen who laid outside the western door. “Wretch.” Kardone said disapprovingly.

Veryyn’s Tale, part 7

“I am not one to speak of my personal business before a proper introduction. I believe that an elf from the west would be more rare a sight than visitors from Garamas. What is your name?.” Perthran said pointedly. Veryyn was confused. In his many long years, he had never heard of such a place, or seen anyone dressed so strangely. “I am Veryyn, if you insist. But please tell me. If you are not with Kardone or the Nearborne oppressors, how do you know this country so well? This dwarven passage has remained hidden from the humans. It has fallen out of memory long ago. Also, I know of only one dwarf within a day from here and I happen to be in pursuit of that dwarf. What dwarves do you seek?” Veryyn finished and his eyes focused intensely on the foreigners.

Quietly, Kotia responded. “We are more than happy to answer all of your questions. However, I’d much rather do it without your beast ready to attack . Can you please call your companion?” Barron had taken the strangers’ flank, and remained tense, ready to strike. “Come Barron, let us listen to what they have to say.” Veryyn said, and his bear sized friend walked wide around them slowly. He joined Veryyn, sitting next to him faithfully. “See now, no threat to you.” Veryyn said. “You say there are dwarves nearby, but I have known none to live nearby. And how did you find our little burrow?”

Perthran made an odd face at that comment. His large wide face showed much emotion, and his brow furrowed. “What spoke the truth when we first met. We have traded with Fulmin-Dum for many years, and they are half a day from here as the crow flies. On foot, however, it is tough country and nearly impenetrable.” Veryyn seemed very intrigued. Fulmin-Dum was not a name he had heard before. He had often talked of all the halls of dwarves with his fair Evie. She had sung songs and told stories for many days of her people but had never mentioned it. Perthran continued, “We made landfall Southwest from here, as we have many times in the past. The journey is treacherous through the sea-stacks along Ghostshore. Their gate is only a quick walk from the beach there.”

“Lies.” Veryyn said flatly. “There is no beach along the Ghostshore, all have always known that.” “Maybe,” Kotia replied. “Maybe that belief is what the dwarves have relied on. They are a reclusive bunch, and refuse trade with any of the inhabitants of Enwyld. But it was the dwarves who sent word to Garamas years ago. They hoped that we might come to bring trade and sent a messenger. Most unusual people!” The last statement left Veryyn with a smirk. A dwarf willing to enter a boat would be an unusual sight indeed. Veryyn quickly composed himself. “That doesn’t fully answer a question, but that is definitely a strange story. Why are you here, at the mouth of my burrow.”

With that, Perthran broke into laughter and Kotia giggled a bit. The tension had left the air. “Your burrow?” He said, after regaining his composure. “An elf squatting in a dwarven hold. I believe that I have seen everything now.” Veryyn could not take offense, as he had always thought it a little odd himself and he even wore a small grin in response. “To answer your question, Veryyn, we were given directions.” Kotia said. In that moment, Perthran slipped his hand under his heavy baldric. In an instant, the mood became tense again as Veryyn put his hand to his long slender knife. Barron growled lowly.

“Easy now friends.” Perthran said, and withdrew what appeared to be several flat boards tied together. They were the length of his forearm and as wide as his hand. Slowly he undid the fabric that held the pieces and bent to the ground, arranging them upon a bare patch of earth. It was a map of southeastern Enwyld, easily recognizable complete with the sweeping Dragonsback running from the southern coast to the northeastern badlands. The Iron Palisades capped the mountain range upon the southern coast, and the Kiowan Plains extended across in the west beyond the map. Overlain across the black terrain were unfamiliar marks in red. Like a spiderweb it spread here and there throughout the Dragonsback. There were many unfamiliar holds listed, and along the southern shore, within the Iron Palisades was marked in heavy blocky script Fulmin-Dum. Examining closer, he found a small section of spiderweb ending upon the spot they stood at this moment and was punctuated by a single nondescript red dot.

“You see Veryyn, we made landfall here, at Fulmin-Dun and found the dwarf door unresponsive to our calls. It was quite unusual. Along the bank of that tough country, we made camp. For three days we hailed the mountain folk with no answer. We didn’t know what else to do, and after some debate, we made for your little burrow to see if we could reach our dwarf friends. That was a little over a week ago today.” Perthran said. Veryyn was stunned at the information. In all of his life, he had never known dwarves to inhabit this far south. He felt foolish, but long he had been removed from the dealings of the world. He had preferred to remain hidden, scraping a living with the few he had come to know and care for.

“It is locked.” Veryyn said. “I do not know why. It has never been locked before.” he continued. His path was starting to become clear before him. “Perhaps our paths crossed for a reason. I am seeking a dwarf. Evie is her name. Together we have resided here in this hole for several years. Today, we were pursued by humans. We meant to meet here, but…” he trailed off. He felt a twinge in his stomach. “You care for this dwarf?” Kotia asked. “Yes. Very much so. She is long in years. I have been her companion for over a century.” Veryyn said. Kotia nodded in agreement. “I believe our paths are connected, at least for now.” Perthran said. “Come, these are strange times. Let us make camp. In the morning, we will take another approach to reach our dwarven comrades.”

Veryyn and Barron looked at each other in unspoken agreement. It seemed reckless to camp in the open. “Come.” Veryyn said, and led them under the large overgrown roots and to the dwarven door. The sun started to hang low on the horizon and the cool breeze could be heard outside of the small rock shelter. Kotia gathered a small amount of wood for a fire. She uttered some words quietly and dark embers flowed from her outstretched palms and across the wood. A strange dim smokeless fire lit their faces. It seemed to live upon the logs, and did not consume it. Their conversation continued into the night, where they talked of many things. Barron laid curled up in the dirt and Veryyn sat close. Late in the night, the two foreigners found sleep. Veryyn remained vigilant, and could not shake his sense of longing. Evie was on his mind as the quiet night wore on.

Veryyn’s Tale, Part 6

Veryyn cleaned his slender blade in the low grass and stooped low to give his four-legged friend some attention. Barron wallowed in the affection from his master. The elf felt no remorse for the quick deaths he had given. A great anger boiled inside of him, as we began his quick walk back to the borrow that he has dwelt in for the last few seasons of his life. It was a far cry from the fruitful bogs of Sphangna where he spent his earliest years. He had desired more than hunting and singing of songs. Still, the drums beat in his heart.

In the wilds of ancient Eoforwood, ‘neath the moon’s soft silver glow

Lived a boar as black as midnight, with tusks as white as snow

None dared to track this creature through the forest wide and deep

Where the roots twist like serpents and the shadows softly creep

Oh, sing the song of spear and fang

Of the hunt that lasted days so long

Sing of the boar of Bron so bold

Whose blood was as black as heart was cold

From the village of Giedenlas came a youth with eyes like flame

Armed with nothing but an ashen spear, Dokkalfur was his name

He sought the boar of Bron to prove his worth to kith and kin

To return a hero crowned, with the boar’s head as his win

Oh, sing the song of spear and fang

Of the hunt that lasted days so long

Sing of the boar of Bron so bold

Whose blood was as black as his heart was cold

Through the bracken and the briar, he tracked the beast for days

Through valleys shrouded in the mist and hidden woodland ways

Till at last he heard the rustling and the mighty boar did see

With eyes that burned like coals beneath the old yew tree

The boar charged with fury, like a tempest through the trees

Dokkalfur stood his ground, his fate as fixed as the mountain breeze

Spear met hide in the dance of death, where only one could reign

And the echo of the struggle rang like a mournful, ancient strain

Oh, sing the song of spear and fang

Of the hunt that lasted days so long

Sing of the boar of Bron so bold

Whose blood was as black as his heart was cold

When dawn painted the sky with streaks of gold and red

Dokkalfur stood victorious, the great boar of Bron lay dead

With strength borne of battle, he claimed the head as prize

And returned to Giedenlas, a hero in their eyes

But listen, children, to the wind that whispers through the night

For it carries tales of bravery, of sorrow, and of might

Remember Dokkalfur and the boar, in the shadows of the trees

For the wild woods of Eoforwood still hold their mysteries

Oh, sing the song of spear and fang

Of the hunt that lasted days so long

Sing of the boar of Bron so bold

Whose blood was as black as his heart was cold

So here’s to the hunter and the hunted, in the dance where fate is spun

In the heart of Eoforwood, where the streams cold and run

May the song of the boar and the boy, echo through the glen

In the twilight of the evening, till the woods call us again

Veryyn hummed the old familiar tune as he sped down the footpath. He realized that although he remembered the old words, he now thought in the clunky and brutal language that was common in the East. “Come now Barron, surely we have given our fair maiden time enough to make it home.” Barron followed gracefully, and the pair made little noise although their speed was great. Nearing the burrow, Veryyn slowed the pace to a comfortable walk and felt his rage subside. Old grudges still burned in him, but his Evie had a way of bringing out a better side of the ancient elf.

Crawling under the familiar overgrown roots, he came before the long hidden dwarven door. He made a quick attempt to open the door, but found it locked steadfast. “Evie, it is Veryyn.” he said without pause. He quickly rapped on the door to announce his arrival. He was reminded of their parting words, to lock the door behind her. Barron paced outside the entrance with Veryyn and there was no answer. A lead weight fell in his stomach, but he spoke calmly to his companion. “I’m sure she is just being overly cautious.” Barron let out a low whine. Picking up a palm sized stone, Veryyn rapped it heavily upon the door. There was no answer.

The heavy feeling in his stomach grew and he puzzled over his next move. It was not like Evie to be inattentive, even more so in times like this. Away in the distance, a bird cried out, breaking the strange silence. Another answered and Veryyn opened his eyes wide. That was a most unusual bird. Although he was no tree elf, he had come to know the sights and sounds of his home woods. Taking a defensive posture, Veryyn knelt low, and Barron let out a woody growl. “You only live because we have allowed it, dark one.” an unfamiliar voice called out. “I believe not, human!” Veryyn replied. Suddenly he felt like he was back in the alleyway in Nearborne. Quickly and cautiously, he slipped out from under the overgrown roots.

Facing his attackers, Veryyn was stunned. A tall lean man stood calmly only near the secret entrance. His garb was strange for this land, and favored lighter robes, in sharp contrast to the heavy cotton pants and shirts that were common. The man had heavy golden studs in his ears which were quite an unusual sight. He wore a heavy leather belt, supported over his shoulder. “I mean you no harm, elf. My name is Perthran.” the man said, and raised his hands in peace. “But I am not alone, of course.” A single, small woman stood nearby that he nearly hadn’t seen.

A head shorter than Perthran, she wore darker grey robes, of the same exotic fashion. Her appearance seemed to make her appear nearly as a shadow, as if she intended to remain hidden. “I am Kotia. We are traders, and seek the dwarves. We are not with the Nearborne oppressors.” Her voice was quiet, almost raspy.

“I am also not alone, but I believe you know that already.” Veryyn said. Barron had circled around while the three talked, staying low to the ground and loaded to pounce on command. “I don’t know what you humans think you are doing here, but this is not the time for pleasantries between you and I.” Veryyn continued. “Where are you from, and what do you mean you seek the dwarves? There are no dwarves within two weeks from here.” “Well that is not exactly true, now is it.” Perthran said slowly.

Veryyn’s Tale, Part 5

Garrett hastened his step as the dogs picked up fresh scent. “Yaevagrim, look there!” He exclaimed. From the beaten path, the small party had strayed maybe half a mile at the dogs’ signal. In front of them nestled between two trees was a low shelter. “Stragglers, round them up, men.” Yaevagrim called his dogs to inspect the tent, and quickly the men drug out the remnants. Two packs were retrieved of different sizes. One seemed almost as if it were made for a child, but Garrett struggled at first to pick it off the ground. “Is this packed full of bricks?” He said, getting a hearty laugh from his comrades. With a quick slash from his long straight sword, the tarp fell in a pile. “No sign of fire, I doubt that this was a hunting party. The packs seem the same as all the rest in the encampment” Parth said in his quiet, thoughtful speech. “How odd…” he puzzled.

“Barnut, what say you?” Yaevagrim asked, as was often his way. He considered Barnut a voice of reason. After all the commotion in Nearborne, reason was in short supply and surely all of Enwyld would be stirred up in this war. Slowly, Barnut replied, “This crossbow, it is not made by elven hands. It is far too handsome. Something’s strange. Oh, well, either way’s the same.” Barnut grabbed the blanket and presented it to the dogs. Excitedly each sniffed and in chaotic unison, each pulled at the end of their long leashes back towards the road. The party rushed on, with the dogs barking all along.

Soon they were back on the winding mountain footpath that led down the northern slope. On this side of the mountain, it was a fair bit cooler, and the shadows were heavier, although it was barely midday. Their clunky armor did not make for a quiet approach by any means, but it gave them all a deep sense of protection. Standing shoulder to shoulder within the ranks of the shining silver and blue guard was a great honor for the men of Nearborne. In fact, their greatest commodity had been brute force for as long as anyone could remember. It was because of this that they demanded a stifling tribute from all of their neighbors.

Coming around a switchback in the forest path, something strange caught the attention of Parth. A medium size animal lay, as if dead, across the path. “What is that?” he said to the others. “I’d call it a dog if it weren’t twice the size.” Barnut said. Each of them heeled their canine companions with a quick command and two wide they approached the poor creature. Garrett and Parth took the rearguard and were led by Yeavagrim and Barnut. Approaching the animal, the dogs hesitated. Sharing a quick glance among themselves, the patrol drew their swords and approached the lifeless mass that laid across the path with it’s back to them.

When they got nearly within striking range, Barron, the supposed lifeless mass, leapt upward and to the side, off the path. Startled, the dogs whined and tugged at their masters. “Be still, men.” Yeavagrim said firmly, slowly backing up. As he did, the dog belonging to Garrett bolted from his hand, leaving the company behind and retreating back the way that they had come. “Garrett!” Yeavagrim shouted, but he could say no more as he tripped over something and fell to the ground. Upon the ground was the lifeless body of his companion. Blood ran from his mouth, but there was no other sign of the attack. His armor appeared intact and he clutched his sword still in his hand. “Ambush!” Barnut shouted.

The men set free their dogs and they ran away yipping, forgetting any allegiance to their masters. Forming a tight circle the men stood back to back preparing for an assault. The wind blew loudly overhead, and birds filled the trees but there was no sign of the attackers. A few tense moments passed. “What’s next, Yeavagrim?” Barnut asked with tension in his voice. “Be still, men. Garrett will be avenged.” A hoarse, deep howl tore through the forest, sending a chill down the spine of every man. The animal that they had seen laying across the road presented himself, a stone’s throw further down the path.

The grotesque face of the boar sized animal faced them now and they reeled in horror. It only vaguely resembled a face, with large dimly colored eyes. What had appeared as a dark black or brown hide now shown as a deep green, and in place of a mouth, woody shoots formed innumerable huge jaws more akin to a spider. Barron wailed again, and no birds were heard among the treetops. Even the wind seemed to obey the shrieking creature, and the forest became silent. “What on earth is that!” Yeavagrim exclaimed, and all of the men assumed a posture of battle. “I’ve killed many beasts, with less than the fine swords given to us by Kardone” Parth said, and in a moment of weakness the tip of his sword lowered. “But I’ve never seen anything like that.”

“All together now men, for Garret. And for Kardone!” Yaevagrim said with a great holler. As one, they charged upon the beast. Barron growled like trees rubbing in the wind, and charged them. In a swinging motion, Yaevagrim brought his sword down but the large sword was slow and Barron dodged with ease, parrying the three and taking their rear, grabbed Barnut with a single fearsome bite, and drug him yelling into the trees. All of the forest heard his yells for help, but the creature moved with a terrifying grace and speed that the humans could not match. The remaining two were filled with dread as his cries faded and eventually stopped.

“Steady…” Yeavagrim started, but before he could get the next words out of his mouth there was a clink of steel falling to the ground. Parth turned and ran for his life. “Coward!” Yeavagrim said, steeling himself and pressing towards the forest. Unceremoniously, he felt a hot searing blade plunge into his neck and his final sight as the light left his eye was blue sky and a swirl of blackened air that faded into nothing.

With all the speed he could muster, Parth neared the pass in the mountain, and he was sure that he would be within sight of his great city soon. The great clamor his armor made at a full sprint left a ringing in his ears. Be had half a mind to strip it away, but quickly put that thought out of his mind. He only hoped that he could convince his masters there that he had not been such a coward. Keeping the pace was proving difficult. “Maybe shouldn’t have skipped so many drills.” he muttered to himself. After his short time in the guard, he had not grown to the standard levels of physical strength you’d find in a guardsman.

A tall figure appeared on the path ahead. It was unmistakably elven, with more pronounced ears than the city elves that Parth had come across, and quite slender. The elf ahead had a much darker hue as well. All of these thoughts crossed his mind, and many more in his anxiety. His heart raced in his ears, and his vision seemed to blur. He had very much hoped to make it back to the safety of his guardsman brothers before seeing an elf again. Turning around, a great lumbering beast familiar from before walked calmly behind him. Overwhelmed, Parth fell to his knees. A towering figure presented itself before Parth.

“Why have the humans gone to war with these people?” Veryyn asked calmly. “Wh..what are you?” Parth muttered, struggling to get a word past his teeth. “What a rude question, little man.” Veryyn replied. “I have a deal for you. Very much like the one your ancestors made with my kin. Tell me why the humans are on the warpath and you will die quickly. Tell me not, and you will die a hard death. The choice is yours.” With those last words, a fanatical Parth begged for his life while letting as much information fall from his mouth as he could manage.

Veryyn held good to his word.

Veryyn’s Tale, Part 4

A great rumbling filled the valley. An exhausted Evie allowed her eyes to open, and quickly she shook Veryyn awake. “Veryyn, Something’s happening!” Evie said nervously. Together they crawled out of their inconspicuous shelter. The sun was already rising high in the sky. “We slept too well Evie.” Veryyn said. His dreams had come too quickly and his few hours of rest had not refreshed him. Barron circled nervously outside the shelter. Against the low rumbling, a clatter and commotion rose up. Veryyn gave Evie a quick glance. There was much fear in her eyes, and swiftly he took a low walk to the edge of the jutting rocky outcropping that overlooked the valley below. Like a snake, he crawled along his belly and looked upon the encampment. What he saw confirmed the worst of his fears.

In the valley, there was a swarm of activity. Many of the buildings that they had seen glowing warm in the night were now fully ablaze. There was hardly a clearing that was not full of shining armor. As he looked over the village in terror, the battle seemed to have already ended. Overwhelming force had wiped every trace of the Uite people from their valley. For every man, woman, and child that had once lived in the village, there now stood four armor-clad soldiers and half as many horses in full regalia. “Why?” Veryyn whispered, to himself alone. Crawling back from the edge, he reported to Evie what he had seen.

“By the stone!” Evie exclaimed loudly. Stealth was not her strongest quality. With a motion, Veryyn signaled to her to keep quiet. “We have to go, now.” Veryyn said, and with haste they stripped down their camp. With a pull from their canteens, and a quick bite in hand, they departed for the mountain pass. “What has happened. This is going to mean war!” Evie said, as soon as they had put some of the winding footpath behind them. Their packs now felt burdensome as they made the winding climb. “That didn’t look like war. That was a slaughter. They won’t be far behind us. Surely they will be checking for survivors. We must make haste.” Veryyn spoke quietly, and with urgency in his voice. “And what war would the tree elves make with the men from Nearborne. Every village around pays tribute to the city. The Uite were not soldiers, but farmers.” “True enough.” Evie replied.

They approached the pass in just a few quick hours. The quickened pace has taken a great toll on Evie. Content most days to tend to her mushrooms and roots, Evie was struggling to keep pace. “How about a rest here, I need to rest my feet.” Evie said, laying her pack down. “We really ought to keep going. I’m sure they will have found that trail by now.” Veryyn said, reluctant to rest while still so near the great slaughter. ”Veryyn, I’m tired.” Evie said softly. For the first time, Veryyn looked upon he and noticed her years showing. There were lines upon her face that he did not recognize, and there were touches of grey mixing in her amber hair.

Veryyn took a moment to reflect. “Of course, but let us at least leave the road. Evie picked up her heavy pack and gave Veryyn a breathless acknowledgment. They ventured for a few minutes through the steep woods off the beaten path and found a relatively flat space between two trees. With familiar movements, camp was set, and Evie crawled underneath the cover seeking shade and rest. “Rest up. I’m going to fill my canteen. Maybe I can find some of these white hares that you keep bringing home.” Veryyn said. He released the crossbow that had been hanging from his pack and set off. Barron followed as he set off along a high ridge line.

In the quiet moments as he hiked along the thick trees, Veryyn was in deep thought concerning his partner. Together they had weathered over one hundred and twenty years. But beforehand, both of them had lived entire lifetimes, with Evie being in ripe middle age for a dwarf of nearly two hundred years old the day they met. Veryyn, however, had lost count of the years since he was a boy. He had watched the forest they inhabited grow from a single seed. His people existed before the words of man had landed on this continent. His exaggerated elven features were far more prominent than the lowly city elves, proof of his ancient heritage. Even the wild Uite band and those like them, had strayed their heritage and tradition, preferring human styled homes and culture. In only a few short generations, their lifespan had been trimmed down to little more than a man.

Veryyn took a single hare with a quick release from his crossbow. The crossbow was merely for sport, and if needed, Veryyn could have taken it with his bare hands. The fluidity of the large dark-skinned elf was quite in contrast to his companion. Veryyn moved on all four when stalking his prey, hugging to the ground in a manner that would terrify most. “I do enjoy these human toys Barron, but it almost seems like it is not proper. No respect.” Veryyn said, swiftly removing the bolt and wiping it clean. He grabbed the hare by its small hindquarters and expertly removed the entrails with a fluid motion of his dagger. Around him, the forest swayed in the cool breeze.

Taking the quick walk back to their makeshift campsite, a noise from far off reached Veryyn’s ears. Barking dogs, several of them from the far side of the mountain. “Evie, we need to go!” Veryyn said. “Now!” Evie roused, slowly at first. “Quickly, or they will be upon us!” He exclaimed, as Barron growled lowly outside of their tent. The handlers could be heard now. Veryyn listened to their far off voices, and counted four of them, with as many dogs. Crawling out of the tent, Evie came wordless. With a glance back, they left their packs behind. Time was of the essence now, and they left their belongings behind. They made their way back to the winding path and ran at a full dwarven sprint down the mountain.

Within a mile, they had started to put some ground between themselves and their pursuers. The dogs seemed farther off, and Veryyn guessed that they had stopped to investigate the makeshift campsite. Evie stopped for a moment, regaining her wind. “Go on ahead Evie. We won’t make the hollow before they catch us.” Veryyn said. Evie looked entirely beaten. Perspiration ran down her aged face and tears hung heavy in her eyes. “What do you intend to do? You are just one!” She exclaimed. She acknowledged to herself that he was correct, and a feeling of hopelessness washed over her. “If nothing else, I can lead them away.” Veryyn said. “Please, go. I’ll be right behind. You have my word. Bar the door, and if I am not back within a day, you must make for the shore west of the Nearborne. The fishermen there are kind and would be sympathetic to a wanderer.” Veryyn said. “Even an old dwarf maiden.” He added, with a touch of his usual pointed humor.

Evie’s eyes narrowed for just a second. Soon her expression softened. “I’ll hold you to your word. Find me in one piece, pointy.” Evie said, and with a parting embrace, the two went separate ways. Evie hurried down the path, and Veryyn took to the brush. Barron stayed with Veryyn, as was his nature.

Veryyn’s Tale, Part 3

Veryyn awoke with a jolt. Anxious dreams kept him from proper rest, but surely he could lay idle no longer. Crawling out of the large bed, he dressed and made for the entryway. Barron stirred and circled about his feet. “I need to see the sky. You too bud?” Veryyn spoke softly so as not to disturb his maiden. “Let sleeping dragons lie, isn’t that right Barron?” The beast’s face contorted in agreement and through the large hatch they made their way. Outside, Veryyn breathed easily and Barron wallowed in the damp undergrowth. Together, they trekked through the dense wood to a nearby stream. Gathering water in his hands, Veryyn drank his fill, while Barron hopped headlong into the shallow water.

Refreshed, Veryyn made his way back to the burrow. The sun was sinking in the sky, and soon he would head north, to a small tribe that lived in the great forest. The nomadic group of elves known as the Uite band were dear to Veryyn, and they always very much appreciated his trade. In return for his haul of animal skins and human finery, he could likely receive much of the sugar and flour his dear Evie desired, and maybe a new hat and cloak for himself. Entering the dwelling, Veryyn found a very busy Evie, bustling this way and that, preparing a meal of salted meats and eggs. “Good to see you, sweet Evie.” Veryyn said, approaching from behind and embracing her. “And you, my love.” Evie replied. She paused for a moment to enjoy the warm moment before tending back to her meal. “I suppose we are going to meet old Wilkers today. Best be moving soon, as soon as I can get these eggs to cooking. This old stove is quite a marvel, what that it works with no wood. But it just does not throw out heat quite the same as a simple wood stove.”

Together, they prepared a decent meal of salted meats and eggs, with a few honey berries picked ripe from the bush the day before. The couple sat and talked merrily. They spoke of former dealings with the Uite, of the hard-nosed bargains of old Wilkers, and the finer things that they had to trade. “Remember those golden bangles you ‘procured’ last fall? You could have bought the whole camp, the way they fell over themselves trying to buy them” Evie said, laughing. “Indeed, the Uite’s love for shiny things has filled our bellies and our stores more than once.” Veryyn replied. “Unfortunately, the raiding has gotten a bit lean, and I’d settle for a bit of flour and sugar to tide us over.” “Nonsense!” Evie said. “You haven’t had a set of fresh clothing in long enough. We ought to have plenty. I’ll load the pack.” With that, they finished their meal. Soon preparations were made. Packs were filled and they filed out through the marvelous dwarven door.

It was nearly a mile, through the crowded trees and thick brush to the narrow path that led to the Uite village. From there, it would be an easy night’s walking. Veryyn and Evie both carried heavy packs, although the dwarf carried a great deal larger portion of the load. Each was laden with fur and finery collected over the past several weeks of trapping and thieving. Slowly, they made their way through the brush. “Slow down, dwarves aren’t meant to toil through the brambles!” Evie said, struggling over a particularly large root. Her dimensions were not ideal for this path, standing roughly half as tall as Veryyn. He slowed pace and helped her over the largest hurdles. He struggled to help with the heavy pack, although she bore it with ease. “We each have our strengths.” Veryyn said, swiftly and expertly navigating the tangled path.

Ahead of them, the trees gave way to a well beaten footpath. The sun had already dipped out of view and the forest darkened while they took to the path. “I do hope they have mead!” Evie said, sweat forming on her brow. “One can hope, my little whetstone.” Veryyn said, much to his own delight. Evie turned red in the face, even more so than usual and for the time being seemed to be at a loss for words. Down the path they trekked, with Veryyn walking at half-speed and Evie keeping pace double-time. The hunting trail was worn into terrain well, and had kept the native Uite people fed and well for as long as they could remember. Evie pulled a torchstone from her pack, and unwrapped the damp packing cloth from around the end. Coming into contact with the cool night air, the plain stone came to life and illuminated Evie’s face. It emitted a warmth that Veryyn and Evie appreciated against the brisk breeze that was cutting through the trail. Tall oaks and willows bent and swayed over their heads, and the forest hummed with the rustling of leaves.

“I do enjoy this walk, although the sky is so near. It is something I may never get used to. As a child, the elders always told us that if we left the cavern, we were liable to fall right up into the sky!” Evie explained, although in their time together she may have told that story before more than once. Veryyn nodded with affection. “Yet here you are, venturing with a tree-demon of all things!” He added. “You know even the elder dwarves who had never seen the living surface avoided the use of such nasty terms.” Evie said, although it was only half-true. Both of them were acutely aware of the tension between both of their people. It was not uncommon for either race to use awful and inappropriate slurs in the safety of their own company. “And you’re lying through your teeth.” Veryyn said in a somber tone. There was understanding between them, and in relative quiet, they walked towards the Uite encampment.

It was a calm, clear night. Veryyn and Evie trudged through the early morning hours. The winding trail led them slowly upward and over the steep mountain pass. From a clearing high upon the steep trail, the far side of the woods could be seen. “All downhill from here. Come now Evie.” Veryyn said. “I can see the clearing, just a bit further” Veryyn followed a rocky outcropping and just below them the trees opened up into a large open valley. They had reached the encampment. In the clearing below them were a dozen or so rough hewn stone and wood dwellings. They each had a warm glow and plumes of smoke coming from their stone chimneys. “Come and let us make camp.” Veryyn said. “I thought you’d never ask. It’s hard to keep up with with your long legs.” Evie replied, and she let out a grunt as she heaved her heavy pack to the ground.

Veryyn laid his pack down and reached inside for some rope and a tight-knit cloth. He expertly crafted a snug makeshift shelter by tying his rope tightly between two trees and stretching his tarp across. Together they pulled their packs nearby and huddled in the tiny shelter. They shared a quick bite of some dry salted flatbread Evie produced from her pack wrapped in a clean white linen. In need of rest, the pair laid close together. A cool breeze blew around them as they fell into an easy sleep.

Veryyn’s Tale, Part 2

As the sunlight streamed in through the narrow stone windows, the captain sat in a tall, intricately carved chair pondering the events of the night prior. The blue crushed velvet cushion still felt foreign to him, despite his time as acting steward of the proud city. A loud knock came from the door. “Enter.” Kardone spoke with authority. Various staff quickly and quietly entered, one with fresh linens and one with a tray of fine breakfast meats and fruits. “Will the lord take his breakfast in his chambers?” An unnamed woman asked politely, nary raising her eyes to meet the captain. “Indeed, there at the table. Thank you.” With a quick shuffle, the bed was made anew and a beautiful spread was laid out. The servants withdrew as quickly as they had entered and the captain sat to enjoy the small feast laid before him. Aromatic sausage links and boiled eggs accompanied the finest breads and juices, with a side of excellent cheese. “Fit for a king.” The proud steward spoke gently under his breath before devouring the meal.

Stepping away from his breakfast, Kardone called for his hand, who had been hidden faithfully behind the door to his room. “Jesse, come along.” Swiftly, Jesse entered in full armor, shimmering white and blue. “Yessir, right away.” Jesse calmly said, and together they met at the armor stand. Helping him into his regal breast plate, Jesse pulled each strap carefully, adjusting for comfort. The plate mail that was common among the guard paled in comparison to the intricate metalwork, rivaling the oldest elven finery. The armor set Kardone apart, and nobody in the city had known a ruler who would carry himself in full battle gear. Kardone thanked his companion and they strode in unison out of the grand bedroom, down a magnificent mountain of stairs and proceeded through the vast hallway that ended at his room. A mousy little man crept up to them, keeping pace and carrying parchment with his usual wiggling gait. “You have quite a busy day, good steward. In fact, there is a dispute awaiting your decision in the court as we speak. The pointy-eared rats have been up to no good again, and today they have the nerve to ask for an audience.” the little man explained excitedly. “Leif, their petty squabbles can wait. Any word from our king?” Kardone inquired, without expectation.

“None sir. However, your lieutenants have gathered in the war room. They too are hopeful for an audience.” The rat-like little man scampered off with a wave of the captain’s hand and out of the way, as it was commonly known that the standing steward was not one to leave his lieutenants waiting long without orders. Stone-faced, Kardone and Jesse made their way to the war room, where twelve men in full dress were in an uproar. “The patrol has already been doubled! I say we kill them all, and purge this blight from our city!” a relatively short but commanding figure bellowed. “Nic, we can’t just indiscriminately start killing the knife-ears in the street, we will have a riot on our hands!” a much taller, broad-faced lieutenant responded. “Well, let them riot and taste our blades, Joseph was one of my best men, and he’s been made lame!” Nic continued, becoming louder and redder. “Men!” Kardone bellowed, and a quick silence fell over the long room. “I know that tempers are high. I feel the same, as it was my man as well as yours Nic.” “Public support has never been higher, sir. Perhaps it is time to rid the city of the elven aggression.” Jesse interjected. The room was filled with agreement.

Kardone took his proper seat at the head of the long table. Slowly he pondered this way and that. After some time, in awkward silence, he cleared his throat and addressed the room. “I have been in deep thought through the night. Ever since I received word of the attack, I have pondered. One thing has been made exceedingly clear. The elvenkind are less than human. They do not follow the rules of engagement, and attack under shadow and smoke. So my decision is this. Let no elf consider himself the level of man. The knife-ears no longer have a place in Nearborne! As warden of this great city, and with you great men, I will drive the elf menace from our walls, and in time, our kingdom!” With Kardone’s last word, the hall erupted in agreement. “Guardsmen, with me!” He shouted with authority, and each man formed upon the captain. “We have business to attend to in the court!” Kardone exclaimed. Leaving the war room, the lieutenants formed up behind their captain and Jesse, four abreast marching through the castle’s hallways. Onward, they marched to the grand court.

Bursting through the doors and entering the hallway that leads to the grand court, Kardone and his company received the shocked looks of a dozen or more. Man and elf alike sought the decision of the warden. A dozen more guards lined the room in their presence. “Guards!” Kardone ordered. “Seize every elf!” In an instant, ten or more pathetic city elves were in custody, with several of them already bound and taken in for the court’s justice originally. Kardone approached one such elf, a lowly beggar in chains, likely brought in for the petty theft of a loaf of crusty bread. “Please good sir, I only meant to feed my child! I’ll never do it again.” With those words Kardone raised his chin and spoke plainly. “No, you will not.” he said, and in an instant ran the poor elf through. His lieutenant’s and guards followed suit and with haste, there lay the bodies of ten elves in the hall, with deep crimson pools forming about.

Kardone cleaned and sheathed his beautiful sword, with a strange gleam in his piercing blue eyes. Stepping from the bodies, he walked into the grand court and up the stairs to his monumental throne. “Under the command of your king and warden, let no elf remain in this city by the fall of night!” With Kardone’s command, there was a great uproar in the court, and indeed the whole castle. Many servants ran for their lives, darting this way and that as the household help tended to be the lowest classes of people. Marked for death, each elf took to the streets to warn their kindred in a panic. Terror and panic overwhelmed the streets and the luckiest made it below the portcullis before it closed violently and condemned the trapped elves to slaughter. The warden-king took to the walls of his high keep. “The time has come.” he spoke eerily, more to himself than to Jesse. “Indeed, great warden.” Jesse replied, and he seemed to share in the warden’s bloodlust. Below them, the whole town scrambled and screams echoed down every road.

Veryyn’s Tale, Part 1

“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.

Heart of Gold

In the symphony of despair, where notes of surrender dance with shadows, I found strength cloaked in the tattered shreds of peace abandoned. The tongues of this world, like serpents, spew venomous songs that whisper deceit, claiming debts from a universe indifferent to pleas. It’s a cruel waltz, where love and loyalty are not commodities to be bought but treasures unearthed through deeds pure as moonlight on the darkest night.

Life, that callous puppeteer, pulls the strings of fate with a merciless grin, while death, a gentle undertaker, offers solace in the quiet reprieve. A heart of gold, elusive as the last ray of sunlight slipping beneath the horizon, evades eager hands in this labyrinth of existence. In the line of destiny, some are chosen to lead, while fools trail behind bleeding hearts, oblivious to the puppet strings entwined with fate.

Yet, in the silence between seconds, where time is a relentless executioner, there lies a sanctuary. Love and loyalty, elusive as the ghostly hues of a fading sunset, are not bartered but earned through the crucible of honest deeds. It’s a truth entwined within the tapestry of lies, a paradoxical dance where shadows and light find common ground, and the heart of gold, a rare gem, gleams within the recesses of our shared humanity.

“No Thank You” Challenge

Attached is a piece of flash fiction, with exactly 100 words including the phrase “no thank you”.

Let’s see yours!

My digital timekeeper unrelentingly shrieked its call to awakening, wrenching me from a dreamless slumber. At 7 a.m., a cruel hour, I grappled with the semi-darkness, my hand blindly questing for the snooze button. No cheerful morning melody graced my ears; instead, a harsh digital beep, a relentless nemesis, pierced the veil of dawn.

No thank you.

A groan escaped as I reluctantly swung my legs from the bed, my muscles rebelling. The room’s heavy curtains resisted the morning’s advances, preserving a darkness that both embraced and taunted me. A nocturnal lover, it shielded me from the outside world.