Pieces of Eight

Chapter 12

"Get up."

It was no struggle for Areli to open his eyes at the sharp words. He had found no true rest here, so even though the hour was late and the sky still pitch black, he roused easily from the gentle doze he'd managed to slip into. Standing silhouetted against the moonlight streaming in through the opened doorway of the stone-pile-like structure he'd chosen as housing for the next few days, Areli could pick out no less than three elves sent to escort him to stars-knew-where. All of them were tall, strong, and unyielding in posture. They didn't give Areli much comfort.

Still, he wordlessly slid from his bed and dressed, not bothering overmuch with modesty as he changed. Part of him wanted to show off the wicked stripes and splotches still mottling his skin, as well the evil scars that accompanied them; another was a bit spiteful, figuring that if they were going to drag him out of bed in the middle of the night after a long, hard day, they could revel in all his naked glory. Grouchy due to exhaustion and apprehension about what awaited him at the end of this march, Areli presented himself to his escort weaponless and annoyed, wordless and glowering. They remained equally speechless and taciturn, and silently spun on their heels and led him away.

There was a certain tranquility to the forest at night, Areli noted as his boots crunched through the frost-dipped grass. Already shivering from the loss of the warm interior of his borrowed house, he pulled his cloak tighter around his shoulders and huffed once to keep from shivering too violently. He'd lost a lot of blood, Tehraiza had told him: he would be prone to cold and weakness for weeks as his body recovered from the severe shock. The chill here was less extreme than it was out in the forest proper, though: a welcome respite from the bitterness that had plagued them the night before. The silence was not so complete nor so oppressive, either, and the noise that issued from its dark depths was less threatening: the footfalls belonged to elves, and the shuffles belonged to rabbits and foxes and deer and squirrels and birds. None of the movements were hurried or abrupt, and the forest itself seemed lighter for the presence of the moon shining bright overhead, nearly full by now.

The elves led him back down the trail they had used to enter these parts of the woods, but turned onto an intersecting one before they reached the enormous stone marking the entrance to the forest. Areli could almost immediately tell they were using a long, circuitous route; whether to make him unable to find where they were leading him again or simply to torture him, he didn't know. Either way, he made no effort to count the turns as he walked, and merely followed along appreciating the clarity of the stars.

As absent as he was, it took him several steps after the elves had halted to realize that they had reached their destination. Stopping himself only a step away from running into the man directly in front of him to a chorus of snickers from the other two, Areli steadfastly ignored them. Let them be perfectly awake and alert after a sudden, unanticipated disruption of sleep following weeks of torture and rehabilitation and then a desperate flight for safety's sake, also sudden and unanticipated. But as much as he wanted to snap, Areli held his tongue. Snark would gain him nothing here.

They were in some sort of fairy ring, he noticed, choosing to take in his surroundings instead of the braids of the elf in front of him. This clearing was quite small indeed, and ringed by nine large boulders that formed a rough circle to keep the trees at bay. The moon was now directly overhead, shining fully into the clearing with all her might. Between each of the boulders was an archway like the one through which they had entered on horseback several hours ago: but all of these were of different kinds of wood. Oak, elm, beech, maple, elder, ash, pine, and chestnut all blossomed in various shapes and sizes like living sculptures marking the paths into the clearing. Areli suspected that he was either about to be tried, or simply killed.