Chapter 8 - Fugue in Flight

After eating, both Elanor and Raven slept for several hours, biding their time until night fell over Elethrae.

Elanor commented jokingly that the cot she laid on was still a hundred times more comfortable than the cold stone floor where she’d spent the past two years sleeping, and Raven reached out toward her.

His hand resting on her shoulder, he comforted her.

“No child deserves what you went through, but the strong have a way of using adversity to fuel their personal development, rather than letting it consume them.”

Elanor nodded wordlessly, a tear forming in her eye from the unexpected encouragement.

“Remember that in any given situation, you always have a choice: you can choose to fall down in weakness and lament, or you can choose strength. The path you walk will be filled with obstacles, Songweaver. You can’t do anything about that. But you always have the power to decide how you handle them.”

A look of resolve bloomed across her face.

“I understand. Things will happen, but it’s how I respond to them that determines who I am and who I become. I think that’s good advice,” she said, yawning.

Raven smiled.

“There really is something about you. You’re a remarkable young woman, Songbird. Now, get some rest. We’ll be running through the night.”

Elanor dreamt about her village, Willowmere.

She was nine years old and having dinner with her parents. She told them about a new ballad she had just learned from a merchant passing through the town on his way to the capital.

She had just finished her last bite of bread, having used it to wipe the remnants of her mother’s signature vegetable beef soup from her bowl. Her parents were still eating, so she said she would perform the ballad for them as if she were a real bard in a real tavern.

Her father said she could use his lute again, and she picked it up, tuning the strings quickly before she began.

In her dream, she always got through the first verse, but was interrupted by shouting outside in the streets. Her father reached out his hand, shushing her while he looked out through the window.

Then, he turned silently toward her, and his entire body was consumed in flames, turning to ash right in front of Elanor and crumbling to the floor in a pile.

Elanor turned to her mother, whose charred remains were already flashing red and orange as she burned out on the floor.

As always when she had this dream, Elanor tried to scream, but no sound would come. She just stood there, air passing her vocal cords but generating nothing but silence and breath.

She awoke from the nightmare, sweat and tears covering her face. Raven was standing above her, shaking her shoulders.

“Are you okay?”

Wiping her face with her sleeve, Elanor nodded.

“Sorry. It’s a dream I’ve been having ever since Malric told me about burning my village down and killing my family. One death isn’t enough for the evil that filthy man brought into my life.”

Raven laughed softly, still careful to stay hidden from passersby on the street outside.

“Keep that passion burning. It will serve you well. Just be sure to let it only fuel you. Don’t let it consume you. There’s a fine line there, do you understand?”

Elanor stared at him for a short time before bobbing her head slowly.

“Yes,” she said. “I think I do.”

They talked quietly for a bit longer, when Raven declared it was time to go.

They exited the underground room, him going first to make sure the way was clear. Elanor followed, and they closed the hatch, moving the sofa back to cover it.

Elanor could barely see inside the small space, and when Raven opened the door, she noticed it was a cloudy night. The cloud cover obscuring the moonlight was a welcome boon to their escape plans.

Raven told her to stay close, and remember the hand signs he had taught her. If he raised his fist up in the air, she was to stop immediately. If he held up one finger and spun it in a circle, she was to run at top speed until she found cover. And there were a few others he’d gone over with her during the daytime.

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She was ready. If it was true that she still wasn’t safe, even this far away from Myrrindel, then she needed to stay alert.

Once more hugging her father’s lute to her chest, she followed behind him as they wove their way through the poor section of the residential district. They didn’t see a single guard in the area, until they approached a gentle sloping hill.

She saw a wide double gate made of wrought iron, guarded by two men clad in polished chain mail. They were holding spears that rested on the ground next to them as they watched from their post.

She remembered Raven saying they would have to pass through this gate and the lower noble district beyond it in order to get out of the city, and that this would likely be the trickiest part.

Making sure to stay out of the shadows at this point, Raven and Songbird approached the gate openly.

“State your business.”

Raven and Elanor both bowed.

“We are here to perform as morning entertainment during Lord Aldwin’s breakfast gathering. They asked us to arrive well before dawn to set up and be in place for the arrival of any early guests.”

One of the guards said, “Do you have an employment contract to back up your claim?” Elanor saw the grip on his spear tighten as he spoke.

She subconsciously gripped her lute tighter in one hand, and slipped the other inside her tunic and around the hilt of her dagger. She was careful to keep her face completely passive, but her body was like a tightly wound spring, ready to burst into action if needed.

The second guard laughed.

“You know Aldwin. He pays the peasants in meals and a few quills. He doesn’t bother with contracts for such… people.” He almost spat the last few words.

“You may pass. Don’t make any trouble,” he said, stepping aside and opening the gate for them.

She relaxed internally and walked through the gate with Raven into the Lower Noble District of Elethrae.

Elanor recalled what Raven had told her. From this area to the city gates was a straight shot, but they had to be perfect from here on out.

Walking at a brisk pace, they proceeded along the main street. Not so fast as to arouse suspicion, and not too slow as to compromise their schedule, they moved forward.

The main street was lined with houses and side avenues branched off every so often. Each of the houses along the main thoroughfare had a single guard on duty. Most of them sat on chairs, while others stood. But all regarded the two half elves moving through the district at this time of night with trained eyes.

Keeping their heads low, Raven and Elanor eventually reached the northern city gates. To their right, she could hear waves crashing into the stone walls of the city. To their left, a valley stretched for a ways until it ended in a steep mountain.

To Elanor’s surprise, the four guards at the gate barely paid them any attention as Raven slipped them the coin purse full of quills he had stolen earlier that day. Feeling the heft of it, the man glanced around at his colleagues and nodded.

“You may pass. Have a good night, and stay safe out there,” he said as the others turned the cranks that mechanized the gears to raise the gates.

When there was enough clearance, Elanor and Raven waved to the guards, slipping under the gate and out into the night.

When they were far enough away to not be heard or seen by the guards, Raven whispered, “Don’t relax your vigilance yet. This is where bandits are the most prevalent.”

The clouds had cleared, and the moonlight shone brightly on the land. He guided her off the main road and into the forest, proceeding through the dense cover alongside the path instead of out in the open.

It was tedious, but Elanor decided to practice her stealth by concentrating on quieting her footfalls on the branches, leaves and bramble that made up the forest floor.

After some time, Raven noticed it.

“You’re doing great at muting your steps,” he said in a whisper, nodding approvingly.

Elanor’s face beamed into a smile at the praise.

“Thanks. I’ve been thinking about the musical concept of Morendo, fading into silence, with every step.”

“It’s working,” he said as they continued moving through the area. “Keep it up.”

At one point, clouds covered the sky again and Raven moved them back to the main road, where they would be able to travel at a faster pace.

They kept their conversation to a minimum, only whispering when they had to speak. But after several miles of this, Elanor sensed something.

She’d been enjoying the orchestra of sound the insects made, listening to the ups and downs of their natural melody, when she noticed it slow and stop.

“Wait,” she said to Raven. “Something is—”

An arrow slammed into her shoulder with such force it knocked her down to the ground. And just in time too, because another flew right through the space her head had just occupied.

“Gods damned fools,” Raven cursed under his breath. He kneeled, setting Elanor’s instruments on the ground as he reached for his own bow.

One more arrow came racing through the air, and Raven caught it mid-flight, immediately nocking it on his own bow, and shooting it into the trees. He heard a ‘thump’ as a body feel from high up in a tree to the ground below.

He looked down at his hand and saw it start turning black.

“Fuck. Poison,” he muttered. Then he remembered that Elanor had been struck in the shoulder.

“Hang in there, I need to make sure there was only one. Be right back. Stay still.”

He ran off, and Elanor fell back onto the ground, staring up at the overcast night.

“Not like I have any choice,” she thought as she lost consciousness.

A few minutes later, Raven returned, blood dripping from his daggers. He wiped them on the grass and sheathed them, running to Elanor’s position.

She laid on her back facing up, and an arrow still protruded from her shoulder. Even in the faint light that made it through the clouds, he could see her veins turning black as the poison pushed its way through her system, spreading from her shoulder toward her heart.

He tore a corner off his tunic and wrapped it around the arrow shaft, careful not to touch any of the poison himself this time.

He tossed the arrow to the side and pressed the cloth against her shoulder. The bleeding slowed almost immediately, and her vitality surprised him.

“But I need to get her to the healer fast,” he muttered to himself.

He cracked his neck and shouldered his bow and the three instruments. Then he hefted the young girl as gently as he could. And with her blood turning black beneath his grip, Raven ran through the darkness, carrying the flickering thread of her life toward the only light left in the foothills ahead. He only hoped he would arrive in time.