Chapter 1

"How did I get into this mess?" Aldren kept grumbling to himself. "Your temper and your sense of fair play" he answered. Aldren had a habit of arguing with himself. It came with traveling alone so much. A warrior by necessity, he did small jobs for the local rulers, Fighting off bands of rogues, and an occasional beast or two. He had once been a man of arms for the King of this land, but had to flee for his life when the zealots had convinced the king that all who believed in the old ways should be put to death, usually in the most gruesome and painful ways the priests could think of.

That had been ages ago it seemed. He had taken flight with his best mount, carrying his arms and what other possessions he could gather. Thrown from respected man of the king's guard to outlaw, he found that instead of missing the life he had had, the freedom of being a man for hire more to his spirit.

That was not what he was thinking about now though. He had been sitting in the only inn within the town of Cedric's Hollow, enjoying a meal that he was not forced to catch and cook himself. A nice change from dried meat and an occasional hare. He was finishing up, enjoying the last of his ale, when a group of locals came crashing in through the crude door yelling and boasting of the raid they had made on an elvish village. Elves had been in the kingdom since before men could remember, but had recently had been declared enemies by the High Priests. Most had moved into hiding among the forests of the mountains, practicing their magic and avoiding the settlements. This ragged group of fat sedentary fools had somehow stumbled across one of their few remaining villages left within a day's ride of humans.

The tales of murder and pillage kept growing, each man trying to out do his predecessor in tales of carnage. And this set Aldren on edge. His mother had been an elf. Aldren's features did not betray him as one of the bloodline, unless you looked closely at his eyes. They contained the depth of time. His long hair covered his elongated and slightly pointed ears. He was tiring of the talk and becoming irritated at the boastings. He stood and headed out to his horse to retrieve his belongings.

One of the revelers, a large man but soft, eyed his departure. "Now why aren't you staying to enjoy the celebration stranger?" The words were accompanied by bits of food and ale.

"I believe I prefer my own company" was Aldren's reply. He did not wish trouble, but these town folk were getting to him. A soft bed was only worth so much.

"We had a great victory today. We cleared the area of a great evil. The priest says we will be blessed" There were calls of general agreement from the fellows behind him.

That is when Aldren's temper took over. Still with his back to the man he growled, "All you have done is sneak into a peaceful village, slaughter a bunch of women and children." Aldren then turned to stare at the man. His eyes were flashing with anger and contempt. "If the male elves had been there a lot fewer of you would be here boasting. I am surprised that as many of you made it back even with just the women." Aldren let the sarcasm drip from his words. "Big men sneaking into huts while everyone slept and murdered babies. About the only kind of victory you would ever be able to proclaim"

The leader sputtered a couple of minutes, then tried to pull his knife. Aldren's sword appeared in his hand from the scabbard on his back. The leader hesitated. Aldren's words had stung because they were true. Attacking a small village of elves that contained just women and children was easy. A man with a sword and look like he could use it was a different matter. Still, he could not allow this man to insult him in front of his comrades. In his drunken state, anger overcame his normal cowardliness. He lunged at Aldren who easily parried the move and brought the tip of his sword under one of his opponent's chins. Eyes bulging in fear the man leaned slowly back and away. The rest of the cowards had been frozen in fear. Scaring locals was different from confronting three feet of deadly steel wielded by a man knew how to use it.

Aldren backed out the door, and then hurried to the stable where his horses were. He threw the blanket and saddle on the stallion, the packs on the mare. He led them out the door and mounted. The local bullies probably would not come after him unless they were drunk enough. However it was better not to take a chance. He moved out onto the road and past the inn. The other patrons had not come out. He moved along the road until he was swallowed in the darkness of the night. At least he had eaten a meal.

Yes, his temper did cost him a night's sleep in a bed that wasn't on the ground. Aldren grumbled to his mount about the loss of the good coin that he had prepaid the Innkeeper for the bed of straw in one of the Inn's upper rooms.

As he traveled on, the darkness of the night was broken by the appearance of the moon. It's silvery light pierced the canopy of trees that overhung the road. To his sensitive eyes it was more than enough light to pick out the details of the forest. Finding a break in the trees, he turned off the road looking for a campsite. Crossing a small stream, he came upon a clearing of dying grasses. There was enough room that he could camp away from the forest and have some warning if any of the creatures that hunted in the night happened to be around.

He finished unloading the horses, then set about preparing to sleep. He had found a ring of rocks that indicated others had stopped here, but the damp ground indicated that it had been some time. He decided that it would be in his best interest to take a final look around the border of the clearing. He was near the far edge when he thought he heard something. Turning toward the forest, he listened intently. His sensitive ears picked up the sound of a low moan. He had ridden far enough that the stupid town's people would not come out, but the forests contained dangers nonetheless. He cocked the crossbow and loosened his sword in its scabbard then moved quietly toward where he thought the sound came from.

Moving cautiously toward the source of the sound, he saw a figure lashed against a tree. It's arms suspended from above and it's body bound to the trunk with rope. Coming closer, Aldren could make out that it was a female. Her lithe figure and the clothing indicated that she was elvish. Her tunic was sliced in places and her limbs showed cuts that proved she had been in battle. The wound on her side looked the most serious. She was still alive, but not for long. He could hear the sounds of the night creatures coming closer.

He stepped into the elf's line of sight, but she did not look up immediately. When she did look up she started cursing him in her native tongue.

"Do not fear. I am not of those who did this. I will help you if you let me." he answered in the same tongue.

"You do not look of the kindred" she whispered, her throat dry.

"My mother was of the kindred. She taught me much." Aldren replied as he cut her arms free from the overhanging branch. He caught her as she fell, her muscles refusing to respond from their lack of blood.

Slinging his crossbow across his back he stooped and lifted her to his chest. She was light, her lithe frame limp in his arms. The wound in her side saw not deep, but had bled freely. He started toward his campsite, anger building within him. Anger for the priests that had brought on this carnage. More them than even the actual perpetrators of the carnage that had delivered this beautiful woman to him.

He made it to the campsite and laid the elf on his blankets. She had lost consciousness on the way back to the campsite. Probably just as well for the pain of the wounds and her captivity against the tree would be considerable. Gathering up dried grass and twigs, he soon had the beginnings of a fire. He only had to go a short distance to gather enough fuel to keep a fire going big enough to scare off the nasties that roamed in the darkness. He struck the flint to steel, but the tinder was damp enough that the sparks would not catch.

Grumbling, he bent close to the small pyre and spoke in a quiet voice. In the center, a white-hot orb appeared first scorching then catching. In seconds, the flames consumed the tinder and lapped hungrily at the sticks and limbs he fed it.

He pulled a small pot from his pack and half filled it with water. He dug to the bottom of his pack, pulling out a pouch of medicinal herbs. He selected the ones that would bring strength to the elf. He hated using the 'gifts' that he had inherited from his mother. The instilled need for hiding them was hard to break, but there were times that they were useful.

When the brew was steeped, he drew off a small cupful and took it to the blankets. He lifted the elf's head just enough to pour a little of the mixture on her lips. She roused herself enough to sip what he had brought. He bound her wounds being careful not to cause any more bleeding. Since he had to lower the top of her shirt, he could not help but notice the soft roundness of her breasts. The gash had missed her right one by fractions of an inch. He bound her torso, packing horshun leaves on top of the wound. That would quicken the healing and prevent infection.

Having done all he could, he settled down with his head on his saddle. He lay long in thought. He could not leave the elf here alone. To his thinking, once he had rescued her, he was bound to protect her until she was well enough to fend for herself. There was something else that he needed to do, a futile gesture, but in his mind he was honor bound to do. He rolled to his side and drifted off into a fitful sleep.

This meant that he could not continue toward the north and the Tower of the Guard. If the tales were true, the Tower was one place where the old ways were still practiced. It was on the furthest borders of the kingdom, a place that once separated the civilized part of the world from the wasteland. Once a huge garrison of loyal men was stationed there, but they had been called south and the place was now home to those who rebelled against the corruption of the old Kingdom and the priests of the new Gods. If he could get there, he would be safe and content.

He had awakened twice during the night, hearing the elf move. Those times, he got more of the brew down her and would see her pained face soften, as the brew would take effect. In the firelight her feature took on a beautiful glow. Typically elven, her face was elongated with delicate features. Flawless skin and soft full lips. She was the model of perfection to his thinking. And he could not afford to do anything about it.

When Ameni woke, she tried to take stock what had happened to her. She remembered the attack on the village. Her father and the rest of the men had left to travel east, looking for a safe haven for their people. The rumors of the trouble South had reached their notice and it was decided that a move would be best. They tried to live a peaceful life, practicing the lesser forms of magic. The use of the Dragon Magic had been outlawed for many generations, and the ones who had remembered it had passed on. But the men in her village had been gone for almost 2 seasons.

The young and the women of the village had gone on with the duties that were needed for survival. Ameni and her brother, who was barely out of childhood, did what they could to protect the members of her clan. She had taken over the leadership of all the younger members, did what hunting had to be done, and tried to provide whatever was needed.

The attack had occurred just before dawn. She and her younger brother had both tried to repel the attackers, but there were too many. They had shot her brother as he yelled for the rest of the village to awaken and run. She had grabbed her Grandsire's sword from its place by the hearth and ran out to see her brother fall, a feathered shaft lodged in his chest. She wounded three of the men before they overpowered her and held her down. She saw her kin raped and murdered as she struggled to free herself. Since it took four to hold her, the decided to drag her out to a tree and tie her there until they were done. They must have forgotten she was there for they never did come back to kill her.

She had spent the day trying to escape the bonds and then passing out from the effort. She did vaguely remember a large man coming toward her and speaking Elvish. He had cut her bonds and she had passed out again.

She forced her eyes open and looked about. She was lying on some rough blankets. To her right was a small fire that was burned to just embers. Also next to her right side was a cup of some kind of tea and a plate of bread and dried fruits. Staked a little ways away, was a roan mare quietly munching on the remains of the grass in the clearing. She took a sip of the tea and ate a little of the bread. Then she lay back to rest.

She awoke to the sound of a horse coming close. She tried to sit up but only managed to move onto her side. The pain was severe, but it did remind her that she was still alive.

A tall man came riding up on a gray stallion. His powerfully built body was stooped and he dismounted as if he were exhausted. Seeing she was awake, he moved in slowly, speaking in the language of the Kindred.

"I am glad to see you are awake. How bad is the pain?"

" I am grateful for your care. The pain lets me know that I am still alive." Ameni answered in common speech.

Aldren moved toward the fire, stirring the coals and adding fuel to bring the blaze back to life. He then pulled some cured meat from the saddlebags lying on the ground. He threw some slices into a pan along with some wild berries and tubers that he must have found close by. It was only then that he approached Ameni.

" I am sorry to have to do this, but I really need to check your wounds. I don't want you to catch a fever from them." He hesitated then asked, "Can you lower your shirt or would it be easier if I did it for you?"

Ameni blushed as she realized that he had already seen her bare on the top. How else would the bandage have gotten around her torso? She reached for the clasps, but found the movement made it a very painful if not impossible task. She sank back down.

Aldren gave her some of the brew from last night. Being warmed by the fire made it more palatable. The liquid drove the pain level down to where she could sit upright. He carefully worked the clasps and opened her top to her waist. He was trying very hard not to look at her breasts and succeeded for the most part. He did brush up against them as he gently removed the dressing. The feel of the side of her breast was like touching warm silk. He adjusted his posture so she would not see the affect she had on him. He had to concentrate on the gash on her side. He peeled the wrapping off, careful to not pull on the edges of the wound. It looked much better than it had last night the edges were starting to close. He heated some water and bathed the area, then replaced the Horshun leaves with fresh ones. He then rebound her with the bandage. He then gently replaced her top and reset the clasps.

Chapter 2 »