[Hilde Bracegirdle]

Menecin

The night was broken by the noise of the ranger’s heavy footfall as he dashed into the camp, betraying wordlessly the urgency of the news he bore. “Quick, take up your gear,” he directed in a clipped whisper, traveling between his companions to make sure all were awake. “We have company, a band of orcs headed our way. Make haste, we’ve not much time!” Amandur moved quickly collecting the things he found loose about the camp, carrying them to where the sleepy horses raised their heads in greeting.

Menecin arose swiftly. Frowning, he peered through the banks of cloud surrounding them. The Lady Léspheria was not among their number he noticed, though her kit was still lying were she had placed it. Catching the edge of Amandur’s cloak as the he passed, in a hushed voice he queried where the elf maid might be. The ranger turned to meet his gaze, and Menecin saw that no alarm visited Amandur’s eyes. “She has already hidden herself on the hillside, ready to strike in our defense if need be,” he replied. “But we must be quick, for it would be to our advantage if she delayed use of her bow until we are better situated.” Then turning to Avanill Amandur asked to use his dark cloak. In short order the young merchant obliged him, unwrapping himself and handing the deep blue garment the ranger, who throwing it over his shoulder, strode to the pines were Vanwe spoke soothing the horses.

******
All was still as a pale glimmer appeared at the edge the bend. Blending swiftly into the shadow of the mountain it vanished just below the point where Léspheria had stationed herself in sight of the path. In truth it was hard to tell whether it was merely a fleet thickening of mist. But shortly another slipped past the corner and staying close to the hillside crept onto the flat shelf of stone, slowly and silently advancing before stopping abruptly. Standing stock still, squinting eyes swept over the path before the scouts retreated just as silently; back the way they had come.

It was not long before the shadows reappeared slipping around the corner, but this time they were followed by still more. As quiet as death but for their rasping breath, they streamed onto the shelf drawing close to the horses. Weapons drawn in readiness, the orcs awaited noiselessly their commander’s signal to attack. A thin wheezing was heard as the leader of the band drew a deep breath, contemplating the smell of freshly shed elven blood that filled his nostrils. As he approached them, the startled horses rose to their feet, and backing toward the wall they revealed a fair elf of noble bearing, who stepped forward, clothed in darkness, gripping a bloodied sword in her hands.

“My lady Ravenner,” the orc hissed bowing with grudging deference, his gaze never leaving her face as he withdrew a pace. But eyes narrow with suspicion his expression rapidly turned steely, changing from fear to anger. And he brought his sword over his shoulder in a flash, to quickly dispatch this imposter who sought to dupe him in front of his troops. Before he could strike his deadly blow a sharp twang was heard from the hillside behind the pines, and the creature fell lifeless to the ground, a feathered shaft protruding from his eye.

As Menecin reached for a second arrow he heard the gentle call of a southern bird in the night; a sign from Léspheria that all the orcs were now in the camp. Taking quick aim he brought down another who searched to sight him on the hillside and whose arrow, missing Menecin’s newly bandaged arm, glanced off the stone beside him. Just then Avanill managed to drive the horses past Vanwe, pushing the enemy back toward the drop and toward Léspheria and Amandur in great disorder. A few orcs, who guessed what was intended, tried to worm their way forward through the horses, but the frightened animals reared, trampling one, and the weapons of Avanill and Vanwe met the others. Avanill stayed by her, until finding a space open before him Menecin sprang to their side, joining the fray and his daughter, who had, it appeared, embraced a strategy of vigorous defense. Seeing that the bard was there, Avanill broke off to the right working his way toward Léspheria, as had been planned. Vanwe and Menecin closing the circle to the left.

There was great relief when all of the companions met again in the mist, and in tallying the fallen they learned that of the eleven who entered the camp all had perished there. But Amandur remained watchful as they gathered the horses, and left the camp, walking to a cave that he had found a mile or so further along the path. And it seemed he would not relax until on reaching the cave they found the body of a twelfth hidden inside, a deep knife wound in its back.