He looked on with pride as his daughter ducked under an elven spearman's thrust and skewered the traitorous scum with her own sword. He had tried to talk her out of coming, but once she knew that Harlen and Hyandai were in dire straights, she not only insisted, but half her company had come with them as well. The females that Wendy was grouped with were quickly earning the title of the 'Three Banshees,' as they screamed like hellions as they attacked and sent men to their deaths.
"Let's do this, I'm weary of the battle already." Tammer yelled out. Bows were dropped and swords drawn by the remaining ranks of the huntsmen. "Charge!" Tammer screamed.
The second hundred humans threw their weight behind the first and the elven lines began to waver dangerously.
Then the fog descended.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Harlen watched the fog billow from the earth. "What sorcery is this?" He asked.
Hyandai looked down at the wizards below. "Put a stop to this!" She yelled, waving a hand at the fog.
"We will try Warleader." One of the wizards replied, already he was invisible in the roiling gray mist.
Somehow, hearing men die invisibly was even more horrible than when it was witnessed. Screams were heard out in the distance, but how far? And who had it been, friend or foe? Was the victor of that skirmish now running onward with murderous intent?
Shapes moved in the fog and emerged. Things were now utterly confused, which had been the intent, Harlen was sure. He watched as a figure in a gray cloak emerged from the fog and was cut down by an arrow from Hyandai's bow.
"They are among us, but it is no longer an organized assault." She said. "Go find Tammer, get the rangers into the village."
Harlen nodded and ran for the gates. He drew forth his broadsword and was glad that he had. A cloaked shape rushed out of the fog with a long spear aimed at Harlen's chest. He parried the point and turned as the elf tried to cancel his momentum. Harlen aimed a blow and felt it land upon the elven footman's back, the shock of the blow shot up his arm, and he heard the sound of ribs being rent asunder.
Harlen did not even wait to be certain of his opponent's death, he turned and continued running, hearing the screams of elves, men, and the deadly whistle of arrows loosed blindly.
At the gate was carnage; bodies of both Loyalist and Isolationist elves littered the ground here. He stepped through the treacherous footing and started hearing words of Westron. Aiming for that he moved forward cautiously. Three men ran up to him. He recognized them, fellow huntsmen.
"Harlen!" One shouted. "We've gotten separated."
Harlen pointed toward the open gate, though it was obscured in the mists. "Go into the village, find elves not cloaked, aid them!"
They all nodded and headed toward the village gates.
"You lot, turn about, find that damn leader!" A voice screamed, one Harlen recalled screaming at him many times in his apprenticeship.
That's Tammer, Harlen thought, else I'm a wood nymph.
Harlen moved forward, and saw his old mentor materialize out of the fog, commanding a small knot of huntsmen. "Tammer!" Harlen yelled. "The duke will have your balls for breakfast when he hears of this!"
Tammer turned about. "No he won't." He smiled back at Harlen. "There's a clause in the agreement, long forgotten, I'm sure, but it is there. 'The Agreement' was the charter under which the huntsmen operated. It was oft referred to but seldom actually looked upon. Tammer somehow looked younger, or so Harlen perceived. He knew the old man to be at least eighty, perhaps even ninety. Yet, now he looked no older than fifty or so summers.
"Hyandai says your swords would serve better in this devil's murk inside the walls." Harlen said, watching for cloaked shapes.
Tammer nodded. "You lot!" He yelled. "Find others and come to the wall, go into the village!"
Trevir emerged from the mist. "I thought I heard you two bickering like old ladies." He said, smiling. He had his bow in hand and an arrow knocked.
Another flare fired into the air, illuminating the fog eerily as it sparked in the sky to sun-brightness.
"You brought the apprentices?" Harlen asked, as a handful of youths and one young girl emerged behind Trevir, from the dense fog.
Tammer chuckled. "Trevir wouldn't accept no. And when he came, the others came, too." He replied. "They're huntsmen, Harlen, don't expect them to bow out because they're young."
"I took the oath, same as you." Trevir said indignantly. "And my bow will kill just as readily, though my arm isn't quite so fat. Master Harlen."
This brought a round of chuckles from the other apprentices and caused Harlen to smile, as well.
"To the wall, you brats." Tammer yelled. "We've elven women to liberate!"
The solitary female apprentice looked at him with scathing reproach. "And lads, too, I'm sure, Nadia." Tammer added, waving his hand toward the wall as she smiled and sprinted after the boys. He smiled after them. "Really, Harlen, did you think these lot would abandon their mentors to a battle?" Tammer looked at him knowingly. "Would you have stayed when you were that age?"
Harlen shook his head. "No, I wouldn't have." He agreed. "I would have snuck behind you even if ordered to stay."
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Ceriandel heard the battle start and chafed at being placed so far from the action. He paced back and forth as the sky lit up with flares. "What happens there?" He asked rhetorically.
The footmen simply shrugged in response.
A young elf, one of Hyandai's aides, came running by them.
"What passes, aide?" Ceriandel asked.
The aide stopped for a brief moment, panting. "The rangers have arrived, we're saved!" He said excitedly. "I must not tarry, the cavalry is ordered to attack their archers." The youth took off at a sprint again.
"Rangers?" Ceriandel asked no one in particular. "What rangers?"
One of the footmen said. "There were rumors that a company of rangers was coming to help. They must have arrived."
The blade dancer looked at him oddly. "That was just a rumor, soldier." He said. "Hyandai started it to trick the enemy into sparing more of their number scouting in all directions."
A human ran past them, being pursued by three cloaked elves. It was not Harlen. The blade dancer spun into action, cutting the leading elf down in an instant, then spinning his blade through the spear shafts of the other two. They both fled into the fog that followed them. The human turned, realizing he was no longer pursued.
He was wearing the green tabard of a ranger.
"Rumor, ehladrim?" Asked one of the footmen. "A damn convincing one, in my eyes."
"Ranger, whence came you?" Ceriandel asked in Syrisian.
The man walked back toward them, smiling broadly. "I don't speak that tongue, blade dancer." He said, in Westron. "But I thank you. Those bastards ganged up on me."
The fog now engulfed them and there were screams and sounds of the fight all about.
"Westron rangers?" Ceriandel asked.
The man looked into the fog. "If you would have it so, sure." He said. "Tammer seems to think so, crazy old coot."
Ceriandel shrugged. "Why not?" He asked. "I would rather have Westron rangers than traitors in Embalis."
The man nodded. "That's the spirit, always look for the cloud behind the silver lining." He said. "If you'll excuse me, I need to find my squad." The man tromped off into the fog.
Ceriandel blinked. "Enough of this." He said. "Let us move, there are enemy in the village, and we are going to kill a few." The spearmen murmured agreement and picked up their weapons.
Just then a dozen cloaked figures ran out of the fog toward them, spears leveled.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
As Harlen disappeared into the fog, Hyandai turned about and ran for the throne chamber. The Ehladrel needed to be protected.
As she entered the chamber, she saw Cendiolor strike down Lord Ircandann. "Now, he would not tell me. Perhaps you will, bitch." He yelled at Lady Melewen, who also had just entered the room. "Where is the Ehladrel?"
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