Legends Lost: Amborese

Chapter V -- Scypher's Fate

Scypher stared at the steel blade of his sword. Crusts of blood still speckled it. He rested in the dawn of the morning watching as the golden sunlight reflected off the metal of his weapon. The hard earth poked him as he sat on the edge of a cliff looking down into the Whispering Canyon. Even on the rim of the canyon the voices within reached out to him. Scypher ignored the taunts. The events of the last two days filled his thoughts.

He last saw his companions riding away into the night, while he faced Waignar and his fellow Sempta. They fought in the firelight of the blazing building. Waignar's men were good swordsmen, but not good enough. Scypher's rage dictated the movements of his sword. He destroyed them easily.

Scypher had thrown their bodies into the fire. He then strolled over to a barrel full of water and dipped his hands into it. The water turned red as he washed the blood off. A horse, already saddled, stamped its hooves behind him. Slowly, Scypher approached the animal. It whinnied and trotted away a few feet, frightened from the already dying flames. Scypher spoke soothingly to the horse as he approached with his hand stretched out. The horse cautiously drew near. It sniffed Scypher's outstretched hand and gave it a lick. Scypher stroked the horse's muzzle. "Good boy," he murmured.

After calming the animal, Scypher leapt into the empty saddle and steered the horse east, toward the Whispering Canyon. He rode hard all morning tracking his companions, hoping to catch up to them. He found the pond where they had rested. Wasting no time, he made haste to the Whispering Canyon. When he reached it, he found no sign of them. He searched for tracks in the already setting sun, but found none. He finally collapsed from exhaustion.

Now he sat in the light of the rising sun, looking out at the canyon below, pondering his options. He knew his friends would not have turned back, that they would have found a way into the canyon. There were no trails leading into it save for one, but that ended in a dead end. Where could they have gone, he thought to himself. Perhaps they found another route through the mountains.

The creaking wheels of wagons snapped him out of his thoughts. A large group of elves approached from the south outlined in the morning sunlight. They had five wagons, and more horses than he could count. Odd, he thought. Scypher did not bother to hide. He knew they had already seen him as his figure was well defined where he sat and elves had extraordinary vision.

"Hello, stranger," one of them called, galloping up rapidly and jumping off his horse in front of Scypher. Scypher concealed his hands underneath his cloak, grasping the hilt of his sword. "Could you direct us to the Ársa Mountains?" the elf asked as another approached on horseback.

"Over there," Scypher answered, indicating the mountains across the way, on the other side of the canyon. He knew the question was an attempt to measure him by his response. No point in revealing anything.

"Perhaps you should explain to him what the Ársa Mountains are," said the second elf in elfish to the first. "I doubt his ability to find anything, including his own horse."

"I know where the Ársa Mountains are, but it is easier to cross the Lil' Montes," Scypher replied in elfish. "As for my horse, he is right behind you," he added to the second elf.

"You speak elfish?" asked the first, in the common tongue, "Very few know the language of the elves."

"It is not much different from that of the fairies."

"You know of the fairies?" the first elf asked. Scypher nodded. "They speak Ancient Elven, a language once known by all from the eldest grandfather to the youngest child. Unfortunately, it has disappeared from the land, stricken by time, lost to all but a few. If the fairies trust you, then so shall I." The elf directed a look at the one on the horse after finishing his sentence. "My name is Naganis, and this is Selir."