Five days later, their tracking had turned them south near the eastern forest boundary, then eastward toward the River Ambros. Gaelen was determined to catch up with their quarry before they reached the Great River; she feared all signs would be lost in the crossing, and she knew they would be difficult to pick up again on the other side.
Her tracking efforts had confirmed that she pursued a lone enemy. That was of little comfort, but at least there was only one pair of eyes and ears that could turn back toward them. At first, she gritted her teeth at Nelwyn’s constant admonitions that she not go too fast, that she would surely miss some sign, but these were getting harder to ignore. They had neither rested nor eaten, and both were weary from the tiresome, close work of tracking. The only good news was that the killer had become more careless as it drew farther away from the kill. That, and the simple fact that both Elves were becoming more familiar with their enemy, had increased the speed of the pursuit considerably.
“If we don’t stop to rest and eat soon, I shall not be strong enough to contend with this marauder when we do catch it.” Nelwyn had been trying to get Gaelen to stop for hours, undoubtedly wishing she had convinced her cousin to give in to the sensible suggestion to return home.
Gaelen snorted. “As if either of us would ever be strong enough to contend with a creature that could do what was done! My only plan is to get close enough to shoot the cursed evil wretch in the throat.”
Still, Nelwyn’s request made sense; Gaelen realized that she needed to rest and renew her strength, as she was becoming a bit reckless. She stretched her lithe form toward the cold, pale blue winter sky, and then rummaged in her food pouch for a few dried apples, some dried mushrooms, and strips of dried, salted venison that chewed rather like leather. She and Nelwyn ate quickly, washing down the dry, salty meal with refreshing cold draughts from their flasks. Then they rested a little, knowing they could not linger beyond sunset.
They had been tracking even in the dark, for it had been clear and moonlit these last nights, and they could see well enough. Nelwyn had noted that the creature moved much faster by night, though she estimated that it was now only one or two hours ahead of them. Once or twice it veered from its course, and they found the remains of a deer that had been slain and partially devoured, torn to pieces and eaten raw. No fire had been built, and if their enemy had taken rest, it was not obvious.
Nelwyn was the first to notice the column of smoke to the east, rising from a copse of trees very near the river. Gaelen shivered, as she was not comfortable with the idea of approaching from upwind. She didn’t know whether the enemy could or would take notice of their scent, but they could not afford the risk. She directed Nelwyn to follow her, moving in a wide arc until she was satisfied with their position. Then they crept cautiously in.
This time the victims were not Elves, but men. Two of the fishermen who lived along the river lay dead amid the ruins of their camp. They had been slain with quiet efficiency; the brutal savagery with which the Elves had been attacked was not evident here. The stench of the creature still hung heavily in the air, as it had not been long gone.
A sudden thought struck Gaelen, who leaped up and sprinted toward the water, abandoning her prior caution. Fishermen are never very far from their boat and, as she feared, it had been taken. She mouthed a silent curse, gazing downstream at a massive figure paddling southward with the current, disappearing into far distant twilight. If only they had been quicker! Frustrated and weary, she sank down onto the bank as Nelwyn ran lightly up behind her. Peering into the gathering dark, Nelwyn realized that their enemy was beyond their reach.
She sat down beside Gaelen and shook her head in resignation. “I suppose that’s the end then...we’ll never catch up now. Did you get a look?”
“Yes, a brief one,” said Gaelen, examining the riverbank. “It’s tall—taller than any Ulca. Heavier, too...the boat rode quite low in the water.”
Nelwyn nodded in appreciation of her cousin’s keen sight; the boat was only a tiny speck by now. “A troll, maybe?”
“Doesn’t smell like one. I could swear the thing was wearing armor. And besides, trolls don’t like the water.”
“Neither do Ulcas.”
Gaelen cast her eyes heavenward. “Obviously, it’s not an Ulca! I don’t know what it is, and thanks to all my delays, I may never know.” She drew a deep breath in an attempt to quell her frustration. “We are now faced with a choice. Do we go on along the riverbank and follow the boat, or do we turn back for home?”
They regarded one another in silence for a long moment. At last, Nelwyn spoke.
“I keep thinking of Talrodin—the way he knew every leaf and blade in the forest. He was so quiet and gentle-natured, and he loved his sons. They will never learn any more of that herb-lore from him now. I fear for all who pass near this terrible enemy, and, though I counseled you to turn about, I wonder now whether I can live with what will happen if we do. I fear we must continue on...though we may not see home again.”
Gaelen loved her cousin very much. She had been thinking similar thoughts, but the revelation that Nelwyn shared her determination to continue the pursuit was unexpected, and it filled her with relief and gratitude. Her desire to hunt down the creature had wavered a little, and she would have turned back for Nelwyn’s sake if asked, but now they were united and strong in their resolve.
“Halrodin was left to bleed to death, yet he still tried to pull his brother from the fire,” she said. “Such courage and devotion must be avenged. Halrodin would not have suffered his brother’s killer to walk free, and neither will I.”
She remembered Halrodin’s sword, the one the killer had stolen. It was a prized heirloom of his house, and she bristled at the thought of it in the hands of his murderer. She made a silent vow to get it back.
Gaelen also understood what Nelwyn meant about what would happen if they turned from their pursuit. This creature killed everyone it encountered, seemingly for the most trivial of reasons. It could easily have stolen the boat from the fishermen; it didn’t have to kill them. At least they had been taken quickly and had suffered little pain.
The brutal treatment of her friends had planted an irrefutable thought in Gaelen’s mind. This creature, whatever it was, hated Elves above all others. She had read this in Halrodin’s dead eyes, sensing it like the heavy, suffocating feeling of an approaching storm. Talrodin had been killed quickly enough, but the creature had gone out of its way to maim and inflict as much pain as possible upon his brother. It had taken his weapon, leaving him to die in agony and despair. Gaelen knew this was not mindless, but by design. This enemy would go out of its way to kill Elves wherever it encountered them, and they would die in torment. No, she could not turn from the path now—she would continue the pursuit until her last arrow buried itself in the creature’s black, hateful heart.
Nelwyn took one last swallow of water from her flask and rose to her feet. She ran her fingers through her hair and sighed. It would be another long night. There was nothing to do now except make their way southward with all speed and hope that the bright stars would shine upon their path.
