‘I will freeze to death’, his teeth chattered and body shook uncontrollably with clanking of his iron manacles the only respite from the howling blizzard around him
Eyes almost frozen shut, a cloaked outline at the edge of his vision closed on him. The tall form drew was difficult to make out but carried a bow drawn and knocked, dressed in the pelt of white wolf furs and supple leathers, the snow striders’ face obscured in warm cloth to protect against the cold. Vognar was too tired and frozen to fight anymore, in what would most likely be his last moments. Darkness began to overtake him as the frigid drove him to unconsciousness’, slumping to the frozen ground Vognars’ last site was a stoney familiar elfish face… the one known as Lythar of Crying Leaf.
***
Regaining his senses, warmth and pain greeted the groggy Ulfen, who lay covered in furs in a tent made of evergreens, a warm fire and trout smoking near by. Not sure of his surroundings he thought himself back in Mierani Forest with his love.
“Elordria”, croaked the near frost bitten warrior pathetically.
Silence, at first, then movement across the fire caught straining eyes, “No” came a baritone elven voice. Lythar gazed steely at the orodae for a moment then softened only slightly.
“Your lucky to live, I have been tracking you since your flight from your people”, waving his dagger north, then continuing honing an arrow shaft.
Vognar weakly lifted his arms, his rough hands rubbing bruised scabbed wrists where manacles once held him.
He looked at the elven warrior questioningly, Lythar did not look up, “I removed them, for now”, a serious gaze given again at the blond human, apparently he considered leaving them on.
Nodding, thankful, the Ulfen flexing hands to test their strength, leaned forward, “Why did you not let me die, either by my people or the storm”?
Looking at his savior, chewing on some fish the elf offered him, “Your peoples secret would be safe from discovery with my death”.
At first Lythar was silent as was his way, “What honor would my people have if we let you die for a lie”, eyeing his crafted arrows’ trueness, still not gazing at the human.
Smirking over at Vognar, “Besides I only wished to see how far the gods would let your foolishness go on before they let you die”.
“Rest, soon we must make the crossing through Orc infested territory of Belkzin”, wrinkling his sculpted face at the thought, “and head east towards the River Kingdoms where you will be safe from all concerned”. No more to say the two sat in silence.
Vognar contemplated his new companion with appreciation; he would not let this debt of life go unpaid. He recovered quickly and several days later the pair headed across the Hold of Belkzin.
***
On a ridge above them Vognar crept to the edge, eyeing the three orc poachers pointing at the trees where Lythar hid. They spoke in guttural tones drawing crossbows and fanning out as to surround him.
‘Fools’, Lythars’ plan was working perfectly they headed straight into a trap.
Moving back to his position next to some boulders Vognar strained to see his elven companion who was well hidden in the tree and scrub ahead, waiting for Lythars’ signal, which came in the form of an arrow that embedded itself deep into the lead orc’s thigh.
Roaring in pain, the orc leader raised his crossbow and fired at the brush where the arrow came from missing Lythar who was behind a copse of trees. The orcs companions also loosed bolts and sought cover right underneath Vognars position above them.
Seizing the opportunity he moved to push rocks upon the orcs underneath. His considerable muscles strained, pressing all his strength against the boulders on the edge of the cliff, which seemed not to give. A red haze of frustration and anger covered Vognars eyes; the stones gave way to his rage, hailing down on the orcs below.
Bellowing in surprised pain one orc was instantly crushed beneath a landside of rock leaving dark red and green streaked rocks. The other dropped his crossbow and drew his shield and axe looking up at the source of the rock shower.
A challenging roar erupted from the enraged human above the orcs, and he leapt down at the orc rolling to his feet on the sandy ground. Grabbing a two-handed sword laying next to a now buried orc, Vognars eyes promised death.
Grank turned to face the newest threat but received another arrow for his efforts, this time in his shoulder. A mocking laugh from Lythar, stood out of his cover, drawing his own weapon, charging the wounded orc leader. The glint of his wicked curved elvish blade caught in the dawning light was the last thing the orc saw before losing his ugly head.
Vognar the other orc traded bows the ringing of steel only broken up by the feral roars of both warriors. Circling each other like wolves, the orc swung his battle-axe first drawing a bloody graze across the Ulfens shoulder.
Crazed with bloodlust, fire in his eyes, barely acknowledging the wound, Vognars blade shattered through armor, splitting the orcs stomach open spilling intestines on the ground in a sloppy brownish red heap.
The orc leader had not landed a blow, and Lythar stood over Granks corpse wiping the foul blood off his blade.
The haze left Vognar tired but not spent. However, his survival instincts kicked in, as the Ulfen scavenged armor, the great-sword, and serviceable equipment from dead opponents who would not be needed them.
Both warriors agreed it would be unwise to linger, and headed east as far away from his people and the orc nation as possible… to the River Kingdoms.
It's nice to get an opportunity to see the relationship between these two characters!
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