Page 44 of Whispers of the Elderoak

“The two fae who were discussing the human were scared. Afraid she was helping the daemon queen. But that’s all.” He paused. “Oh, and Sugha told me I looked old. She says hi.” He smirked.

Raine clapped him on the back, sour mood gone. “It’s the beard, Cas. Makes you look dirty. I told you; the women prefer clean shaven faces.”

“Like you would know,” taunted Quinn.

Casimir rubbed his jaw. “I happen to like my beard. It’s…”

“Disgusting,” said Quinn.

Glaring at her, he finished. “Rugged.”

Jorrar chuckled along with the rest of them. “Let’s find something to eat and we can discuss our next move.”

As they filtered out of the alleyway, an ear-piercing scream rang out from the other side of town.

Immediately on alert, the warriors looked around before heading in the direction of the panic. They hurried down the streets, darting in between buildings and leaping over low stone walls, eager to help whoever was in trouble.

They made it to the edge of town, screams increasing in frequency and volume, when a gnome ran toward them, shouting in fear. “Creatures! Awful creatures! They’re attacking the farmers.” He pointed in the direction of the chaos before running off.

They took off faster, running toward the fields where crops were grown and harvested. They jumped over a wooden fence and ran in between tall rows of corn before stopping in the yard in front of a small house with a thatched roof.

The warriors froze. “What the hell are those things?” said Quinn.

On top of the roof were two black creatures with wings and long front claws lined with spikes, piercing holes in the straw and trying to get in while a third hovered in front of the door, blocking the exit. They looked like giant insects of some sort, with six dangling legs and massive pincers below their shiny compound eyes. Their buzzing echoed over the screams of the family of orcs inside.

From beside him, Raine whispered, “There are children in there.”

That was all Casimir needed before he leapt over the fence and jumped into the fray, unsheathing his sword.

15

Ava’s wagon arrived at the main camp, the pounding of iron and murmur of soldiers sounding in the air. The smell of smoke, sweat and dirt snaked its way into the prison cart from the small window.

She had no idea how long they had traveled. There was no way to discern time in her dismal box and though she had tried to mark the days based off the sunlight, her fear and exhaustion had her losing count by day four. She had only been let out for brief moments to relieve herself and then shoved back into the wagon with measly scraps of food and hardly enough water to parch her dry throat.

She hadn’t heard from Luna yet and hoped she was safe and still looking for help. Maybe she could try to run when they moved her to the next location. It was worth a shot.

The cart rattled to a stop and Ava waited for the guard.

The door opened and bright light almost blinded her, forcing her to shade her face with her bound hands. After days of the dark wagon, she hadn’t accounted for how painful the sun would be. The guard reached in and dragged her out, setting her on her feet in the mud.

They were in an open field surrounded by hundreds of tents. Smoke from scattered fires emerged in different directions. To fight the mud, there were paths covered in straw, allowing the soldiers to walk around without sinking into the muck. She looked around subtly, learning the layout and searching for a place to run if she got the opportunity.

Scorch marks and tree stumps lined the camp, evidence of the devastation of the land, and Ava felt an ache of sadness for the flora and fauna that once was. A sense of violence and savagery floated through the air as the grunts and shouts of daemon soldiers sounded.

A sharp yank of her arm had her stumbling as they walked through camp.

“Come on,” the guard said, pulling her along.

She couldn’t see much beyond the massive camp but caught a glimpse of towering mountains far in the distance behind more rolling fields and clusters of trees. The moment she saw those mountains, something washed over her. Like a sense of peace remained out of reach and urged her to go there, to find something beyond those green peaks. She had to reach those mountains, though she didn’t know why.

Soldiers bustled about in their daily activities, some of them sparring while others laughed around a fire. Some wore the same armor as the group surrounding her while the rest of them were in tunics and pants of browns and blacks. They passed by a blacksmith, hammering away at a giant weapon with spikes and blades, the clang ringing in Ava’s ears.

The smells of sweat, roasted meat, refuse and mud stung her nostrils as she trembled while the guard led her down the center of their stronghold. Her hands were clammy as she pleaded with her tears to stay away.

As they passed through camp, the soldiers noticed their party and immediately bowed. Voices young and old sounded, revering their queen.

“You’ve returned, my queen.”

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