Osmund chuckled, then groaned with a fresh wave of pain. “But Wynn,” he said.
“I have faith in her.” And he did. If she had survived this long, she could make it a little longer. “You taught me to.”
“So now you listen,” he grumbled.
Elric tried to peer through the thick brush get his bearings and figure out which direction to turn. But there was a rustling in the bushes.
He heard the snort of a hog. Slowly he lowered Osmund’s sled to the ground and drew his sword. He’d finally caught up with the troop of wild pigs. After the reaper, they didn’t seem nearly as scary.
A boar trotted out from around the thick trunk of a tree. He pulled a cart with strange wheels driven by a man with a dark green face. The elves had found them.
Elric braced himself as the elf pointed a fearsome contraption at him, loaded with the sharp point of an arrow. His eyes were orange and bright, a contrast to his skin, which was a deep green hue with lighter green patterns over his face and arms. He wore a cloak and hood adorned with bits of brush and bramble that camouflaged into the backdrop of the woods.
“Quid agis?” he shouted at Elric.
Shaking his head, Elric held still as more pig-carts slowly emerged from the woods. They were surrounded.
“I don’t know what you want,” Elric shouted at them. “I can’t understand you. I mean you no harm. I need to find help for my friend.”
The leader snapped his reins and his boar moved forward. The creature squealed as the driver pulled on a chain attached to a loop in the beast’s nose.
“You are not fairy, and not elf,” the man said in Elric’s own language. “You speak the old language of the North. What are you?” he asked.
“I’m in a hurry,” he said, grateful to hear words he could understand. “My friend is badly wounded. He’s been bitten by a reaper.”
The elf man considered him. “He needs medicine, and quickly. Place him in the back of my cart. My people will help him.”
“We need to get back to the fairies,” Elric said, pointing in the direction of the shield.
“Do you want your friend to live?” the leader asked. Elric fell silent. “Then follow my instructions.”
Elric turned back toward Osmund. Don’t trust them, Osmund mouthed at him, though he didn’t open his eyes. Elric tried to lag, to turn back onto the path toward the shield.
But when he did, he found five different weapons pointed at his neck.
“I don’t have a choice, do I?” Elric asked.
The elf shook his head.
Elric was outnumbered. He didn’t know enough about the elves to be able to tell if he was getting into deeper trouble or not. He had a bad feeling about this, but at the same time, they had promised him they would help. He intended to hold them at their word. He didn’t know what he would do if they didn’t. He’d just have to be clever, and careful.
“Don’t worry,” he said to Osmund, or maybe he said it to himself as he placed his friend in the cart and climbed in beside him. “We’re going to get help.”
“Not from elves,” Osmund whispered, then coughed.
Elric kept a hand on Osmund’s bleeding shoulder and prayed that Osmund was wrong as the cart rumbled through the woods. In the deep part of the forest where the shadows stretched so far that they all blended together into a murky twilight, they came to a stop in a small clearing. A mass of vines created a dark green wall in the heart of the woods. An enormous door opened in the solid vines, driven by large wooden gears and thick ropes. The guards let the party pass. Elric glanced down at Osmund beside him. He looked pale and sweaty.
As the cart passed through the gate, he realized the wall of vines were growing over a thick wooden wall made of pikes formed from the trunks of young trees. Inside the wall was a village with wood and brick houses. All of the elves here had green skin with distinctive pale patterns. They wore long robes and woven belts that reminded him of the clothing from home.
The elves took Elric to a large building at the center of the town. More of the elves came out of the buildings to watch them.
A grand elf with a metal crown and long flowing robes stepped forward. His eyes contained the wisdom of the deepest part of night, glowing like the orange eyes of an owl. And yet, this elf gave him a look of controlled interest. He had to be the leader.
He addressed the crowd without really looking at Elric. “What is this?” the chief of the elves asked, his words clear and in Elric’s language.
“Headmind Axis, we found a dead reaper in one of our traps. We followed some strange tracks, and found these two wandering in the woods, heading toward the fairy realm.”
“You said you were bringing us to help!” Elric shouted at him. “My friend is desperately ill. He was attacked by the reaper.” Elric raised his voice enough that it rang out over the crowd. “Please. He’s dying.”
The Headmind came closer and glanced at Osmund’s wounds. “Aren’t we all?”
“Can you help him?” Elric asked. “Or was that a lie?”
“We can. It is in our nature to help the injured, and we also keep our promises, despite what the fairies think. You, however, are not injured. Not seriously, anyway. Whatever will we do with you?” he said, fixing Elric with a steady gaze.
“Just help him. I am nothing to anyone,” Elric said to the elf.
“Oh, I think you are,” he said, “my prince.”
