69Already the horizon was growing heavy with dusk, and as the great orange orb sank from the sky, the exhausted elf pushed himself to move faster. The landscape around him was finally transforming from open meadows and stands of broadleaved trees to the dense foliage and climbing vines of the familiar forest. The weary elf focused on taking note of the almost invisible signs that he was still on the right trail and forced himself not to break pace, wondering how many years it had been since another being had trod this path. If he could stay awake, he would be home in two full- lights.
The elf wondered grimly if she was still alive. He forced the thought out of his mind and closed his hand protectively over the tiny vial that hung from his rawhide belt. Soon he would be home. Soon.
His thoughts were interrupted by a high-pitched squeal emerging from the woods off to his right. It sounded just like an Elven child. He stopped in his tracks and listened carefully. He heard light footsteps running through the forest parallel to the trail. Then, suddenly, an unnatural, low-pitched shriek. The footsteps stopped.
The elf's brow furrowed into a worried frown. "Orcs." He glanced down at the vial that hung from his belt, racked with uncertainty. He turned off the trail and ran with as much stealth as he could toward the location that seemed to be the source of the sounds. A few swift steps brought him to a place where the trees opened up and created a clearing, the ground covered with half-dead brown and yellow grass. The sunset cast an eerie orange glow through the dark canopy of leaves and onto the three figures that stood there. There were two children, whom the weary traveler took to be elves. A young girl no more than seven or eight years old was on her knees, too afraid to move, and a male child of about the same age stood protectively in front of her with arms outstretched, a tiny dagger held defensively in one hand. Less than a yard from the children stood a massive orc, bluish-black skin glowing green in the dusk. The monster towered over the young boy and grinned at its easy prey.
It arched its neck downward at the child and opened its maw to release another bloodcurdling shriek in the boy's face. The elven boy stood defiantly in the face of the danger, but it was obvious he was no match for the fierce creature. Drawing up all his courage, the child lunged forward with his dagger only to be swept roughly aside by a strong black-clawed hand, and landed hard on his side two yards away. The orc's attention turned immediately to the unprotected girl in the grass. With one dark hand it grasped her neck and lifted her up from the ground, jerking her violently from side to side. She let out a strangled scream, then fell silent.
Determined, the young boy regained his feet and lunged up onto the orc's back, forcing his dagger into its shoulderblade. The beast squealed with rage, and spun around, dropping the girl roughly to the ground. The change in the orc's momentum sent the boy flying through the air. He landed hard in the dirt, and his weapon landed useless several yards away. He regained his feet and stared angrily at his attacker. Its blood-red eyes were set intently on him, and rage dripped from its hungry maw. The creature's strong neck stretched as it lunged for the child with large fangs bared, but instead its teeth met with cold steel. In the split second the beast had attacked, the adult elf had jumped into the battle. He held a long, jeweled scimitar in his hands, and forced it deeper into the orc's mouth so that the monster was forced to back up.
The wound on the orc's shoulder dripped hot blood, and its fury did not abate with the arrival of this newcomer. It spotted the elfling running for his dagger and whirled around to attack. The child yelled angrily and launched his dagger into one of the beast's glowing red eyes, buying himself enough time to retreat in the opposite direction. Within the orc's deranged and bloodthirsty mind, it suddenly became clear that this dagger was a useful weapon. It tore the blade wildly from its face and turned back to the child, but was taken off guard by a powerful blow to its head. The mature elf had once again interfered with its plans, and this time he was not to be forgiven. In one split second, the black hand that held the child's dagger changed course for the meddler's heart. On any other day, this beast would have been no match for the powerful elf. But the man had been traveling without rest or food, and his numb muscles warned him that his instincts were too dull to fight. Too exhausted to react, the elf had no time to escape the lightning-fast blow the orc dealt him, and he looked down with astonishment at the dagger buried deep in his chest. Pain soared through his entire body, and his head began to swim. Desperately, the elf drew back his scimitar and struck forward, straight into the gloating monster's skull, then collapsed backward into the grass with a dizzy gasp. The creature fell lifeless to the ground nearby.
The boy scrambled over to his female companion and shook her shoulders gently. She opened her eyes and looked up at him dizzily, but long red rips formed necklaces of blood where the orc had held her neck. "Wait here, Elina. Just hold still," he said gently, leaving her side to investigate the elf who had rescued them. The adult elf lay still on his back, breathing heavily and staring up into the moonlight.
The boy hovered over him and peered down with deep concern. His rescuer's eyes focused on him, confused. The voice the elf man had heard was elven. But the face that stared down at him had lavender eyes. Elves did not have lavender eyes.
"Half Elf," the boy said, pointing to himself understandingly.
The man was in too much pain to react to the race of the child he'd rescued. He briefly entertained the notion that perhaps he had just needlessly thrown away his life and failed his mission, but regret came not to him. At least one of the children had been rescued; the child's race had no bearing on that. But now, time would soon run out.
The dying elf reached to his waist and clutched the precious vial in his left hand. He closed his eyes tightly and thought. The boy would surely be willing to deliver the vial. But it could not be sent to Koeten with this child. He did not yet know what he was. "I'm so sorry, Merinai," he whispered to the heavens, hoping that somehow she would know that he was.
"Sir, your wound.," said the boy gently, reminding the elf of where he was.
More low shrieks echoed through the forest surrounding them, and the elf looked into the young boy's eyes with urgency. "They smell me. Soon they will all be here. Take her and run," he said, gesturing toward the girl with his free hand. "And, take this with you," he added, lifting up his weapon to the child.
"Why are you giving me this?" he asked.
"This sword is the key. You must protect this with your life. They are coming after it," he indicated the approaching orcs with his head. "Do you understand?"
"Yes." The boy's face was filled with confusion, but he accepted the scimitar ceremoniously.
The elf nodded his approval. "Now go," he said, his voice hoarse from the blood in his lungs. The young half elf turned to Elina and lifted her into his arms. She looked very pale. The elf watched somberly, and thought to himself that the child would not survive such wounds. The boy carried Elina reluctantly out of the clearing, the great scimitar strapped awkwardly to his belt, looking back once before disappearing into the dark forest. The wounded elf lay on the ground, and thought of her. She was waiting. Waiting for this vial. And the child..he could only hope she would understand why he did not return. There was so much he needed to tell the young one. about all he had seen. Without him, who would stop the dark plot he had discovered?
For a moment he longed to hold them both in his arms one more time, but he pushed the fruitless longing from his mind, knowing his death was near. The initial shock from his wound was wearing off, and pain flooded back into his consciousness. He pictured the woman and the young girl in his mind one last time. Then, a pang of throbbing heat coursed through his mind, and reluctantly, he tilted his head back and took his last breath.