Whistler's Pass II, 5108 (short story)

This is a creative work set in the world of Elanthia, attributed to its original author(s). It does not necessarily represent the official lore of GemStone IV.

Title: Whistler's Pass II, 5108

Author: player of Selandriel

Warbling softly in the predawn hours, a single lark made its way across the skies of the sleepy city. It flew gracefully among the still-lit glaesan orbs that illuminated the glistening cobbles and twittered softly at the magnificent city’s citizens as they began the remedial tasks that kept the bustling city functioning. Leaning into the gentle undercurrents and airflows, the lark drifted towards its favored perch within the city walls.

The lush garden rose high in the air, the third story of a prominent and favored inn. The crimson glow of Tilaok reflected off of the glaesan skylight set in the center of the garden and briefly illuminated a lone figure gazing outward upon the sleepy city.

Back winging in surprise, the lark’s song was reduced to a startled squawk at the elf that stood before him.

Smiling slowly, a hint of amusement in the man’s eyes, the elf lifted his hand towards the bird and spoke gently.

“You will find no harm here, little lark.”

The lark, not amused by the intrusion in its pre-morning flight, tilted his head at the elf and chirped. He then promptly turned his back on him, drawing out a small, throaty chuckle.

The elf stretched, running a hand idly through his long, raven-hued hair. He'd fallen asleep on the bench in the garden again and felt the resulting twinge in his lower back keenly. Casually rubbing the last sands of sleep from his eyes, he rolled his shoulders and shrugged away his grogginess into the night now passing.

He gingerly stepped up onto the bench and gazed out over the city of Ta’Illistim, drinking in one of its better views. A stiff wind blew past from behind him, causing his grey cloak to dance lightly around him. It smelled lightly of snow. A smile crept across his face as he thought of the trip through the mountains he would shortly be embarking on. He was going home.

Home was not something he considered any one place to be, having been very prudently on the move for so many upon many years. The last time he had such a place to call when he was still but a child in the eyes of Elves, disaster struck and continued to haunt him along every step. His gaze shifted down to the golden key that had found its way into his hand, the one whichever hung around his neck. His thumb absently traced its contours and etchings, the tiny flowing script along its stem. Home was something he could not afford to have.

Stepping back and down off of the bench, he reached for the faded grey leather satchel sitting on its edge and shouldered it in one smooth motion. He swept from the rooftop garden, down the ladder through the trap door, and out of the inn. His face was drawn as he refastened his cloak so as to hide his form completely. Indeed, he was going home.

Commoners were slowly moving about the streets and making their way towards their places of employment. In their midst traveled a scatter of scholars either too poor to house libraries of their own, or too eager to garner knowledge from their peers to await the daylight already began to pinken the horizon. The glaesan orbs illuminated their companionable faces as he passed them on his way down the var towards the city’s gates.

The path was a familiar one for many, but it was with a certain amount of relief that he passed through their pennanted arches and out into the trails that ambled away from the more inhabited environs. All around him life began to stir as the city and its supports wakened. As he traveled further from the city itself and domestic life, he felt his shoulders easing with the calm that traveling into the wilderness brought.

By the time he crossed the last domesticated bridge and was well on his way beyond the passes that lead to Cysaegir, the sun had begun to trickle through the branches of the trees. A warm golden haze hung upon the horizon accompanied by the sweet song of whippoorwills and robins. Rainbows clung to the humidity that rose high above a waterfall, and he paused briefly to drink before continuing on his trek. The desire to be home was flooding his limbs and he was eager to see it come to pass.

He passed into darkness for a time, the peaks of the high mountains surrounding Whistler’s Pass not quite willing to release their cling on the night. The air began to change around him as the more frigid portions of the journey surrounded him and he welcomed them with an absence born him by his elven heritage. As the snows began to thicken the bird songs that surrounded his journey began to be punctuated by the clean sounds of snow crunching beneath his feet. In the darker, colder valley he paused occasionally to enjoy the flora that managed to cling to life but largely, he moved forward at a steady if sedate pace.

At some point during his descent he noticed that the air seemed thicker as if the woods were holding their breath with anticipation. He realized, suddenly, that the morning chorus had ceased its pleasant songs, and that the light buzz of insects was oddly absent. Lifting his head to the sky, he noted that the sun was slipping past the peaks and kissing the treetops. That’s when the howl reached his ears, shattering the stillness of the path. The chill sound of the canine voice sent a raging challenge through the air.

The elf began running, stepping lightly between the tightly packed trees with a singular look of purpose on his face. He knew that howl, that sound that had echoed through the forest moments ago and torn through his senses.

Vestiges of memory stirred deep in his mind and attempted in vain to place from where exactly he knew the sound. Nothing but fragments arose in response, merely blurred images of displaced sounds and smells. Yet, where his memory failed, his heart sang, and that alone was enough to lend haste to his steps. It was the one feeling that had not yet failed him once.

The last of the closely packed tree trunks passed as the elf broke into the clearing as fast as his legs would carry him. His eyes hastily scanned across the scene before him, noting the mastiff to his left, to whom the early howl no doubted belonged, and a small crouched form over which a strange creature loomed. His brow creased and again that feeling of familiarity crept over him.

He caught a brief flicker of fiery red hair as a khopesh came up to deflect one of the creature's blows. Recognition flashed across his face, quickly replaced by a hardened expression. Instantly his hands dropped to the hilts of two daggers tucked into his belt. He touched down lightly and sped forward, loosening his cloak and drawing his blades as he went.

Another blow came down, which the girl deflected at the last possible moment. Her arm was growing numb from the repeated blows, and sharp pains flooded the other, still limp at her side. She shuffled on the ground in a vain attempt to regain her footing.

The mastiff charged in, snapping at the creature's ankles wildly, the occasional bark and growl escaping his maw. In response, the creature snapped out with its leg and caught the mastiff square in the shoulder. The dusky mastiff was sent sprawling through the snow with a yelp that left him motionless moments later against a nearby tree.

Fury filled the girl's eyes, kindling her fatigued frame into action. She struck out with her weapon, guiding a furious slash up between the creature's legs. It howled, a discordant and painful sound, as the blade cut through its thigh and left a garish gaping wound in its wake, and brought its hands up high for a return attack, the clawed tips glistening darkly already with her blood.

A flash of silver distracted the girl for a moment as a dagger lodged itself firmly into the creature's shoulder, sending it staggering backward and bringing its attention up over her head. She took the opportunity and shuffled back along the ground, putting as much distance between herself and the stunned creature as she could but it was hard to maneuver with one good arm.

Leaves and twigs began to drift down from above accompanied by a loud rustling that filled the air. A pair of creatures, brethren to the last, dropped from the limbs of the trees above and landed awkwardly next to the first creature. Pulling the dagger from its shoulder and tossing it aside, the creature issued a low growl from its black lips, hatred narrowing its eyes.

Sailing through the air, a second dagger zipped past the creature before the first had left his hands, and was embedded in the beast to its hilt in his throat. It dropped to the ground clawing frantically for the offending piece of metal. Dark lifeblood punctuated his flailing attempts with gargles that eventually flooding its gaping mouth.

Shaking her head to clear the pain, the girl turned her head to look back over her wounded shoulder in an attempt to find the new assailant. Her head barely had time to turn when a dark shadow crossed her face. The elf glided through the air above her, his arms crossed with his hands upon hilts, and his dark hair trailing behind him.

He landed lightly before her, drawing forth a pair of short swords, and immediately spun into action. Crouching low, his attack caught the second creature just behind the ankle and hooked his foot, sending it tumbling to the ground. Momentum carried him through his spin and he righted himself back onto his feet. He brought his swords out away from his body, slashing outward at the first creature's abdomen.

The creature skipped back a few steps, easily avoiding the oncoming blades, and noted too late that they would have missed by a wide margin even had it not moved. The blades changed their angle and came down onto the second creature's neck, severing its head cleanly from its body as the elf spun back to a low crouch. He gazed up at the once again lone creature, his eyes burning with a cold, calm fire.

A grin crept across the elf's face as he watched the creature’s eyes narrow with realization. The attack was never meant to land, but merely to drive it back away from the second creature. No, not meant to drive it away from the other. The girl, he was putting distance between himself and the girl.

The creature's face split in its own mockery of a grin, dark lips contorting to reveal its jagged teeth. A howling growl of challenge hissed outward from deep within the creature’s abdomen, its body shivering with cold rage.