Chapter 14 - The Wild Ones

Veron ordered them to keep moving; they were there to learn and gain experience at navigating the Great Forest.

At the front of the group, Veron instructed some trainees on tracking. He was looking for another Iron Tusked Boar and demonstrated identifiers and tracks that one had passed through.

They soon found another shortly after Ballen's encounter with the Iron Tusk Boar.

It was as big as the first, though this one seemed far more vigilant as it soon raised its big head in their direction.

The Iron Tusk Boar seemed unafraid of them and even aggressively stomped its leg.

Veron took that time to order, “Arlen, you're up quickly. AIM for it before it charges. Those Boars are unafraid of anything but those bigger than it.”

Arlen drew his bow similarly to Ballen, yet even Sylvie could see he was less measured in comparison.

Veron noticed and instructed another trainee in the group as he said, “Folen, assist him, draw your bow too. You will both shoot when I command.”

Folen, a Wood Elf of similar age and stature to Arlen, similarly drew his bow.

The Iron Tusk Boar continued to stamp its leg in agitation, staring at them in confusion. It did not understand why such small creatures did not flee.

At that time, Veron instructed clearly, “Arlen, aim for just under the throat on the left side. Folen, you aim for the right, directly at the eye.”

Both did as instructed before Veron, who observed both and saw they were readied, ordered, “Release!”

The arrows were released with another whoosh, as the sheer power and speed generated from the martial apprentices was absurd.

Sylvie found that the arrows struck true as she saw the Iron Tusk Boar take a tumble. The arrows landed consecutively near its vital points, staggering the beast.

Similar to the last one, large chunks of flesh were sent flying as the force of the arrows struck like missiles.

Despite that, Sylvie witnessed the horrifying sight of the Iron Tusk Boar with a deep portion of its neck and head blown off, staring at them with its remaining eye.

Sylvie witnessed the boar's ridiculous vitality as it somehow remained standing and was able to shrug off the attack with the shake of its head. Its remaining eye turned enraged and red as it charged at them like a berserk grizzly bear.

She realised exactly why the Boar was slow to react; it was not used to being challenged.

Arlen and Folen seemed to panic, seeing that their attack had failed.

Both were exhausted, expending much strength to penetrate the Iron Tusk Boar's thick hide, yet made an effort to notch another arrow as Arlen hurriedly aimed at the boar, only for the second arrow to bounce off the boar harmlessly as the Iron Tusk Boar came at them alarmingly fast.

Sylvie saw genuine fear in their eyes as they realised they could not stop its charge; fortunately, Veron took that opportunity to step ahead of them.

“Let this be a lesson learned. The Boar is a brute; it rarely fears, yet if you don’t down it in one shot, the thing will charge at you until you're dead. It’s why many predators in the Great Forest actively avoid it, though…” Veron began mentoring the two as he unsheathed his blade, a sabre-type weapon.

The Iron Tusk Boar continued thumping through the forest like a freight train. Its bulk came at them in a furious charge. Veron seemed insignificant in comparison, yet the Wood Elf showed no signs of fear.

His sabre moved so fast that Sylvie barely caught the movement. It seemed as if he waved his arm as he performed an astonishing acrobatic movement resembling an elegant dance. In moments, he covered the remaining distance between him and the boar. His blade then seemed to blur through the boar in one swift motion.

Despite the Boar having extraordinarily thick flesh and vitality, Veron's sabre cut through it like butter as the boar charged right at him, continuing even after it was sliced in two, the two halves of the boar dissected in one clean motion.

Veron remained unruffled as the boar lay dead. Not a single drop of blood on his person, his sabre cut through it so fast that it remained as clean as it was the moment he unsheathed it.

Sylvie stared slack-jawed and realised her Father, though not as strong, was at the same stage as Veron as a Martial Practitioner.

Her Father seemed to notice her newfound appreciation, saying, “Haha, have you realised how strong Dad is now?”

Sylvie could only nod as Veron wanted them to move out immediately.

Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author's consent. Report any sightings.

They continued to move deeper into the forest, though they remained on the outskirts of Falamel. Veron did not dwell on the trainees' mistakes; he would lecture and teach ones like Arlen and Folen who required assistance, yet continuously profess and not fixate on these mistakes, teaching every encounter as a learning opportunity.

Sylvie respected him as a teacher and learned much from the experience. The Great Forest was beautiful, and there was an assortment of exotic plants that she had never seen before.

Some of which she would handle and sort securely with her Father. Her Father would go out and do such a thing for Haryk, so he had perfect experience at herb gathering on his travels. They even had the packs to secure and store them for later use. Sylvie enjoyed this and was impressed that her Father was able to teach her many new things about herbs and plant life.

The Great Forest resembled a humongous temperate woodland on Earth, with lush plant life everywhere. Iron Tusk Boars were not the only things they encountered; Giant Stags larger than horses, Green Squirrel-like creatures the size of large dogs, and more were present, though they experienced nothing stronger than the boars.

Her Brother Ballen and the other trainees hunted many creatures at that time. Ballen consistently succeeded, though he sometimes came into trouble, similar to Arlen. The forest creatures were not to be underestimated, and according to her Father, these were the ones deemed weak enough to leave to the trainees like her Brother to kill as target practice.

Sylvie saw the trainees visibly improve during that time. Their composure grew, and they became more confident in the skills they had been drilled since childhood.

Sylvie thought everything would go smoothly until a snap happened.

Veron's eyes grew sharp as he paused. It was he who snapped his fingers to gain the group's attention.

“Yorik, something is not right. The Great Forest is too silent; something is hunting us. I feel their eyes, they know us well, moving just beyond my senses… It’s like they’re…” Veron was going off until he realised something.

He then moved to duck as projectiles began flying at them from nowhere.

Veron snapped sharply as he moved, “Wild Ones. Down.”

Many were unable to react. Multiple Elven guardsmen, members of Veron’s squad, had their hearts pierced by arrows which stuck out of their chests as they fell lifeless.

War cries began sounding. Loud hollers sounded as their assailants became known.

“Death will favour you, Usurpers of the Great Tree, you are children of the Forest no more! Forsakers, we will feast on your flesh.” A prominent, familiar figure appeared out of the shadows.

Sylvie couldn’t believe her eyes when she saw the unmistakable appearance of a Wood Elf.

Though this one was big, taller and broader than her father, he had unmistakable Wood Elf features. He was covered head to toe in tribal paints, his face covered in green wolf patterns.

He grinned savagely at them, his teeth sharp and pointed like a shark as he eyed them hungrily.

He pointed out a blade at Veron, who responded, “You the leader, savage?”

The so-called savage sniffed as he said, “You reek of the smell of the traitors, the ones that have brought the High Elves ' so-called order to us. Oh, how I have yearned to sink my teeth into the treacherous one’s flesh, to think my dreams have been realised, oh, the Great Forest has blessed us today!”

Veron calmly responded, “Let us duel then, though the others, you see, are children. They are not part of this fight; you are exiled, wild, yet you claim to follow the old ways. They are younglings; they are not part of this fight!”

The savage grinned in response as he said, “We will not harm them. They make a bad, weak hunt, though we will teach them the failings you have given; there is no hope for you forsaken of tradition! I will do you the honour of ending you with my blade, not raining you down with arrows. After I cut you down, I will ensure you sit at the centre of our feast.”

At that time, her Father, Yorik, gripped her hand. As he pushed her towards Ballen, he turned to her brother and said, “Take Sylvie and run. Veron and the rest of us will divert them now! Keep running. The nearer Falamel, the better. I have no idea how Wild Ones, exiles of the City, have passed the patrols…”

Sylvie was shuddering, cursing her luck at encountering what appeared to be mad cannibalistic Elves the moment she left the City.

At that moment, Veron had already clashed with the leader. Her Father, on the other hand, was one of the top combatants, and he caused a huge commotion when he began effortlessly deflecting the projectiles shot at them, charging at a large group of the attackers, distracting many as he fought like an absolute savage.

Multiple of the Wild Ones, Wood Elves decked in tribal paints, came running at the screaming, as the guardsmen began to clash, fighting for their lives.

The trainees were sent to flee, but some tried to fight, only to be knocked out harmlessly by their far stronger attackers. It seemed they were intent on keeping the younger ones alive.

The same could not be said for the guardsmen cut down mercilessly, given the chance.

Sylvie found the guardsmen did not go down without a fight, though. Now aware of their attackers, they showed why they were one of the most competent squads in their district. They also started dealing damage as their attackers began to suffer similar losses.

Sylvie was watching the clash until her perspective shifted as Ballen hoisted her up and broke into a sprint.

She saw pain emerge on his face as he glanced at her Father. He wanted to stay and fight, but left for her. Arlen accompanied them, struggling to keep up as her brother was remarkable among the apprentice stage, superior to him and the other trainees.

The attacking Wild Ones did not seem to care about them leaving. They were entirely focused on slaughtering every last guardsman, seeming not concerned about them getting away.

With a huffing Arlen, Ballen ran for a reasonably long period at a speed that even with her training, she could not match.

It made her appreciate the gap between a Martial Practitioner and a normal person.

Eventually, though, something disastrous happened: They were suddenly cornered. It happened so quickly that Sylvie did not even notice they were baited into a trap with nowhere to run.

Laughs emerged everywhere, as voices hounded them until they ran into a group of assailants.

Though these differed, they were young, similar in age to Ballen and Arlen.

Sylvie realised something as she saw the eyes of these tribal Wood Elves; they stared at her similarly to how their group treated the Iron Tusk Boars.

They were being hunted like they had hunted the boar.