Chapter Nine - Embrace
Koja and Brock galloped up the lane, majestic in their long-legged, graceful gait. Powerful chests and strong, deep loins gave them a strangely proportioned profile yet they had broad paws for better maneuvering in mud or snow and shiny black talons that seemed as dangerous as any you might find on a jungle cat. Their shoulders were four hands shorter than her horse, and they were lighter by far, yet their ilk made excellent mounts for the Smallfolk. Better still, they were gentle giants and so made excellent mounts for children as well.
The sun glimmered across her pale complexion, faintly metallic and bearing a warm copper hue. Her hair streamed down her back, a billowing cloud of burnished bronze. Worry was etched across her fine features, her hands in Gallea's mane bore white knuckles.
High noon diminished their shadows, leaving her exposed and vulnerable with no easily accessible escape routes. Still, she pressed on, knowing her sisters were hunting with equal fervor and how greatly their men outnumbered her small band.
I must find them, I must! Helena told herself, urging Gallea to the left. Munko and Fesha were on foot, but they would find wild mounts if they located the children first. Gnomes often had intense connections to the natural world. When the Stone Gods had stopped talking to the elder races, and to men, They had continued to listen to the races of smaller stature. Helena was not worried about them, the spirits of nature would heed their calls for protection; it was the children of men who concerned her.
The children, of course, and her sisters.
Bathsheba was the eldest, strong and independent, cunning and cool-headed. Demetios was the youngest, and equal parts cruel and devious, vain and vindictive. They had assembled a small army already, led, no doubt, by their bastard brothers, Karick, Mavern and Dukken. It would not take them but a day or two to canvas the entire forest, laying waste to every homestead and farm for miles. Even now, Demetios was likely engaged in one of her favorite activities. Helena could taste the fear and agony of a stranger on the breeze. She could feel his terror as his heart thundered in his chest and the searing pain of golden hairpins, glowing red and white and fresh from the fire, being pushed into his flesh. Her nostrils were filled with the odor burning hair and flesh and the rank smell of bowels emptied and bladders spilled. Helena shook her head, trying to focus despite the barrage of horrors her younger sister's actions brought to her mind. Worse than this man's messy interrogation and eventual death was the heart-wrenching cries of a new mother watching her infant ripped asunder, his brains dashed upon the hearth. The atrocities Demetios had visited upon the young woman once the baby was death had made Helena's skin crawl.
But where Demetios would take her time and have her fun, moving in a roundabout path to her goal, Bathsheba would be hunting the children herself, for she enjoyed the cat and mouse game. Her calculating nature was not to be underestimated. She would be leading bloodhounds and Harriers, hunters who trained day and night from the time they could walk, and these children, no matter how clever could not elude her forever.
A little shriek caught her attention and Helena yanked Gallea's mane. The beautiful bay mare reared indigantly, but turned and raced in the new direction. Koja and Brock loped after her, and then, picking up a scent, the canines put on a burst of speed in unison and shot off into the thick of the forest.
Two of them, at last, she thought, dismounting swiftly. There was a boy, nearly a man, and a girl, perhaps two years younger than him. The children were trembling, clinging together, terrified. Koja and Brock had chased away some snarling hound and were pacing in a half-circle like sentries. Helena could not help but spare a passing smile; her companions were smarter than any canine had a right to be.
“Its alright, my little loves,” Helena breathed, kneeling closer. “I shall get you to safety. You must only trust me.”
“Helena!”
She froze, recognizing at once the husky voice of her eldest sister. A hissing monstrosity lurched at her side and as Helena turned, herding her charges behind her, she knew the Black One to be the eldest of the Trubor children.
“You will never have them, Bathsheba. I do so vow.”
Her elder sister's eyes narrowed, “Come now, little fool, you know what must be done. The darkness descends. Accept the night and join with us. These children have been chosen, they channel the forgotten voices.”
“I have embraced the light, Bathsheba,” Helena stepped back, hunkering down to wrap her arms around the children. She glanced down briefly, watching the shadows grow with each heartbeat as the sun moved across the sky. “And with it, the shadows. Ha'sha kal!”
Intangible darkness expanded upon her command, swallowing the three of them in a cool, black void.
There are no shadows in the night, Helena thought, watching the swirling shades of gray as she stole through the Shadowrealm, And your darkness can never touch us here.
Posted by Pheenie @ 9/08/2008 08:18:00 PM