The Fallen

Chapter Three

   The next morning was overcast, dark grey clouds covered the sky obscuring the newly risen sun and casting a gloomy light over the forest. Sylvaren woke to find his tent covered in frost, it was the first frost of the year and didn't bode well for the journey ahead of them. He pulled on his soft hose of elven wool and a shirt of the same material. It was soft and warm and not too bulky, perfect for the cold winters of the Arbor lands. Sylvaren often wondered about that, they were only about 500 leagues from the deserts of Meritum so why were their winters so cold? He shook his head, there was nothing he could do about it, and, wrapping his woollen cloak around his shoulders, he ducked out into the grove. He was the only one awake so far as he could tell so he decided to enjoy this cool morning. Looking up at the sky he thought back to that afternoon when everything he'd known was wiped away by the raiders. He sighed, knowing he could never get it back though determined to do something about those responsible. He looked then at Jiména's tent and felt a little better, at least he still had her here that was something. He glanced around then, pulling his mind away from the bitter memory of that day and instead marvelled at the beauty of the forest he called home and waited for the others to rise.

"Didn't expect to see an elf this close to Bractium" said a musically accented voice from somewhere over Sylvaren's head. He looked up sharply, almost falling over as he did so and raised his bow to point it at the intruder. She was a small little thing, only about 3 foot tall and that, even more than her strangely protruding nose, pointed her out as a gnome. Natives of the Isle of Altum off the west coast of Nidus, Gnomes were a peaceful race who rarely ventured away from their homeland unless it was for trade. They had a strong love of gold, a love that had made Altum the richest province of the Empire. The gnome who now sat on the branch above Sylvaren, leaning casually against the tree, was therefore a curious one. She had thick round glasses that magnified her eyes, leather boots that reached her mid-thigh, a white shirt and brown waistcoat with a long black coat covering her body. Across her knees she had a long thin rifle and at her waist there was a rapier with a fairly standard hilt. She looked fairly old, her eyes, magnified by her glasses, were wrinkled and her forehead, under her short, blonde hair, showed signs of age. There was, however, a certain youth in her eyes that glistened despite her venerability.

"I mean, I know this is kind of where you live but I'd have thought you'd all have run away by now considering what's been happening" she continued happily as she jumped down from her branch to land solidly on her small feet "I'm glad to see I was wrong" she smiled at Sylvaren, leaning against her rifle which was now planted, stock first, against the leaf strewn floor. This eased Sylvaren somewhat, though not enough for him to lower his guard.

"Who are you?" he asked suspiciously, he'd never met a gnome before and didn't know what to expect, he'd only heard they were rather eccentric.

"I am Nyna, one time herbalist at the College of Altum City turned traveller, at your service" she bowed extravagantly as she said all this, which was quite amusing given that she was small already so bowing didn't do her any favours.

"I am Sylvaren of Clan Neira. It's a pleasure" he replied, picking up on her flowery speech and feeling it best to stay on her good side. Something about what he said amused her because she began to chuckle

"What brings one such as you this close to a human settlement?" she asked curiously as she slung her rifle over her shoulder. This calmed Sylvaren and he lowered his bow

"A human slaver group sacked my village, killing or enslaving my people. I've made it my business to repay them in kind" her eyes widened at those words - he had said it so calmly! - then a large grin stretching across her small face