Dusk Over Arcath

Chapter 17

"Huntsmen be damned, boy." Endel's eyes were wide. "I swore I'd wring your neck for wandering off. It seems the wood's done it for me." 

Aster's fingers absentmindedly touched his neck. The skin had become cold in his time in the forest. He recalled the vision of himself he had seen in Sarah's mirror: a ghost of a body was left. His arms were thin and bony, despite having no more trouble hefting his ax than a fortnight before. His eyes were blacker than ever he had seen, almost like orbs of night shoved into his skeletal sockets. His hair was traced with white, reducing his hair to a rusted steel color. 

Narenhior had sent for Endel a day after Sarah had found Aster awake. The elf had provided time for rest and quiet with torchlight and meager food supplies on hand at all times. Sarah had personally insisted on caring for him. 

When the messenger first returned from the Watch's camp Endel had refused to believe Narenhior's summons. A day and two messages later the captain had finally ridden to see for himself. 

The bulky hunter pulled his feet from their stirrups and dropped to the forest floor. All the time his eyes never drifted from the skeleton of a boy in front of him. 

Endel extended a shaky hand. Calloused finger tips grazed Aster's face. 

"Moonlight," the hunter breathed. "I owe you apologies Moonwalker." The captain's eyes never wavered, but Aster knew he addressed Narenhior. 

"Accepted," the elf replied stoically. His face bore neither interest nor surprise at the exchange. Only a mask of determination had visored his countenance since Aster woke. "I expect then that we ride within the half-day." 

"Ride?" Endel reeled like he had been struck. "Ride indeed. For Arcath perhaps, but no deeper into this unhunted ground." 

"There is no returning. I told you at the start that I shall see this ride through. I intend to." 

Endel strode with a foot of the slender elf. The hunter's muscle and pelt stood a head taller than Narenhior and at least a shoulder's width wider. Nevertheless, the prince's fearless face and black armor exuded intimidation such that Aster could not help but admire Endel for standing his ground. 

"Four of my men have died. Six are lost, not including the boy. We will stay no longer." 

"To where will you ride?" Narenhior retorted through sneering lips. "East? West? North? South? Do you dare even guess where those directions are? I need not remind you the direness of our situation."

"Rash decisions will make it even more-so." 

The prince's eyebrows drew together like swords above his sharp gaze. "To this day I have refrained from blaming you for the new blood on this ground. My patience has its limits. If you insist we sit here another week - no, not even another day - each new drop of blood falls on your hands. We left Arcath with the promise that your guides knew the way." He spread his arms in challenge. "Now we are here." 

Endel clenched his fist, pointing an accusing finger a breath away from Narenhior's face. "You were warned of the dangers of this journey. I cannot be held responsible for your stupidity." 

A sharp breath hissed from the surrounding elves. Aster searched their faces: a tongue of the fire in Narenhior's face lit each pair of elven eyes. 

"I have tolerated your insolence long enough. Go, and do as you see fit. I have no further use for you." 

Endel pulled his ax from his belt. "The day I let a spindly Moonwalker hiding in a shell of cinder-colored tin insult me is the day I die." 

Stillness settled over the scene. 

Aster watched as Narenhior turned again to face Endel. The fire in his face had cooled to something more wild. The prince's penetrating eyes thrashed like a beast. 

Even as Aster watched, the scene seemed to tighten around them. Curtains of shadow lengthened as though they were unrolling from invisible spools. Trees seemed to stoop. The whisper of light that cascading from the sky above the treetops died amid the shifting branches. Voices of the forest and scampering of small creatures ceased in the spell-like silence. 

Aster did not have time to blink before Narenhior had drawn his blade. Blurred movement lost in dim light told him Endel would get his wish. 

Aster found himself crying out in protest. 

Narenhior shifted his gaze to where the boy stood. The elf held his sword in his right hand, its long edge leveled tickling the old captain's throat. 

Even from where Aster stood, he could see the sparkling ruby of blood that dripped from Endel's skin. 

"Have you something to say?" 

The words reverberated through his mind.

"I..." Was there anything to say? Something - surely something. "Killing him, it won't do any good." 

"I have killed men without reason before." Aster shivered at the elf's words. The statement was more a declaration than explanation. "Death is everyone's fate. It requires no validation. But life?Justify this life." 

"Justify?" His brain spun searching for words. "There - there are many." He swallowed, and a thought struck him. "Two-hundred reasons you should not kill him. Each with an ax and horse." 

"He speaks the truth." 

Aster's eyes widened at Sarah's sudden reply. The elf hid her gaze in the dark. She gestured to the hulking captain who stood petrified at the sword on his throat. "Enough blood has been shed for us to add more with our own hands. Festifir Narenhior, if it would please you, do not kill him. To do so may cost more than one head of your own people." 

A ripple of murmurs rose from the small ring of elves that had gathered on the peripherals of the meeting. Two Watchmen that had accompanied Endel on horseback nervously eyed the swaying moonwalkers. 

Narenhior returned his stare to Endel. Steel hissed as he returned his blade to its sheath, signing a shallow red stroke across the Watchman's throat. 

Endel stepped back, eyes wide. He exhaled deeply and gently touched his throat as if to make sure it was still there. His gloved hand came away with only a trickle of red. 

Heavy steps carried the Watchman to his horse, which whinnied nervously under its master's sudden mounting. 

"We ride as soon as the day breaks." 

Not another word graced the trio of Watchmen. Their steeds dashed through the wood, out of sight of the growing gathering of elves. 

Narenhior had made it clear: there was no question where they were going.