Chronicles of Wildra

Chapter two (a wildra side)

(village at the borders of Wyrg forest)

Children ran through the festive streets, it was mid-summers eve festival. The harvest was to be decent this year and there weren't much complaints from most the farm folk, except from those who couldn't thank the lords for what they had enough to be satisfied. The women sat by the large bon fire danced and sang while the men strayed between that an  watching the tournament that had brought many a folk from other villages. Some came to participate others to cheer their champions of choice and maybe even win some gold on wagers.

Landwig watched the men in the center of the ring continue their dance of Fist and Foot their speed slowly picking up. A dance he was quite familiar with, and had been since he was a lad just starting to be taken seriously by the older men. 

"It seems Selra is up to no good again," Cred his said.

Landwig turned to see what his neighbor was pointing at, a pale slim man with long oily hair who was whispering  to two men who were covered in scars wore battered looking swords at their hips. 

"He's never up to any good, he's never satisfied with what he has and always wants more," Landwig replied, watching the village troublemaker continue his whispered conversation  with the strange males. The scarred men had arrived this morning in a large group on horseback and claimed interest in the tournament but had not entered it. Many of the villagers, though knowing it was good for their business, had been unhappy and digruntled with their arrival. But no one was going to kick them out, as long as they didn't cause trouble, their reasoning; why start a fight when one wasn't needed, besides it was misummers eve many of them had argued.

"It's probably about the forest again,"Cred said sighing.

The topic was an old one one which had caused strife in the village at one time or another. 

When Selra was youth he'd gone into the forest hunting, which was forbidden, for according to village lore an old magic lived there and protecting the forest and all its inhabitants. The Magical being living there had made a treaty with their anestors, to allow them to stay if they never hunted there. And so each time some idiot had slipped passed their village guard into the woods, they had left a peace offering in the woods of anything but meat that was usually taken by children. They were the only ones truly safe within the woods to play as much as they wanted and if. They got lost they somehow were always found and brought back safe fed and happy to their panicked parents speaking of the woodman.  

The woodman had not been so kind to Selra and his friends, all the rest of his group had gone missing but him and he had been wild eyed and hysterical having come out later. When he had finally spoken of what had happened, it was of a single man who had attacked them needlessly and killed his friends, even though they hadn't harmed anything. He had painted the man as a murderer and a weak mortal. 

Landwig had always felt that wasn't the full truth, but had never voiced objection because Selra had spun his weave so well no one would believe him. And so the villagers were slowly gearing up to tramp into the woods and get the man who had killed in such cold blood. He shook his head at the thoughts in his head.

"I know my friend, that man does not tell us all he saw," Cred said quietly so no one could over hear him.

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He crept closer to the group focused on only them, and began to weave small threads of magic to keep the stag alive he wouldn't abandon it to them. Just as he began to get ready to attack he saw something flash at the corner of his vision most wouldn't have noticed but he did he looked toward the other end of the clearing and crept backwards, deeper into the woods, and doubled back to  the area.where he saw the flash.

" How long does he want us to hold." one man complained.

"Keep silent! we're waiting for the man he described to show up." his rank leader said. 

So it had been a trap not for the stag, but for him. A memory flashed through his mind of a young mortal whose eyes had sworn revenge, but he'd not thought much of it at the time. If he had not noticed the arrow head poking out into the moonlight, he would have looked like a pin cushion by now.

Avoiding branches and brambles on forest floor he crept from tree to tree getting close before he began to weave magic again. He intended to take all the archers out in one swoop with out damaging his the forest . A draft of air full of poison oak streamed towards the archers, they inhaled it and slowly but surely they fell to the ground not knowing they were dying but that sleep had them its hold.  

Tal made sure they were all dead before he moved in to the clearing, he would have appeared with his swords, but he couldn't risk it how many traps had they set ? He wondered to himself he hadn't heard of them until the stag had called out in fear. 

The situation was one that needed caution, and more than a little luck to untangle. He stepped into the sunlight on the look out for the smallest movement from the surrounding forest the stag bucked under the net that had been cast over it and the men surrounding it shouted to each other as they worked to hold it down long enough to secure it in ropes 

" Leave," Lan said in a voice just loud enough for them to hear, but as though they hadn't heard him they continued their work. He moved in first at a slow walk slowly increasing his speed, his lithe body moving with grace and speed the group of men had clearly not  expected.

"Spring it!" the old man called to the men behind him as he ran forward to meet  Lan's charge.

one skinny youth pulled a lever that lan hadn't noticed, among the men. Suddenly, the ground beneath shifted to the side, just as his foot touched the ground, pulling him off balance. The speed he had put on becoming a danger to him rather than his foes, he fell and rolled in the grass. Lan forced his body to tuck itsself into a ball as he hit the ground hardand and bounced. He had the wind blown out of him each time he hit a paricularly hard rock or patch of ground. In the end, he couldn't maintain his roll and lay sprawled on the ground bruised and battered. He heard them begin to rush over to complete their purpose, his capture. He forced himself to his knees and decided to rely on his magic, rather than his skill in battle, something he hadn't done in quite a few years, he grudgingly gave the mortals his respect for forcing his hand.

The old man and six of his men headed straight for him sprinting to catch him while he was still vulnerable. He weaved air in practiced moves, and lashed out like a whip. All seven men gave hoarse sounds of pain and slowed their progress, but still approached though wearily. They spread out round him all forming a perfect circle. They had clearly done this before, to what poor creature, he didn't know, but he certainly did not want to find out what happened next.