Chapter Sixty-Seven

Somewhere not at all far from Irian and Namid, under the eaves of the forest, two figured moved at a speed that clearly wasn’t human.

Running at a speed that outstripped the deer he was flushing in front of him, Hariel moved as though the back half of him were on fire and the front was catching.  Scarcely slower, Elanor was using everything that she had to try and keep up with Hariel’s pace.  He was just moving too fast for her.  He hadn’t told her anything when he sped by their camp.  He tossed her the staff and told her to run.  Even he didn’t know why, but he felt an enormous sense of wrong in the direction he was pointed in.  Elanor realized very quickly it was follow or be left behind.

As the trees thinned out, Hariel could see ahead of him that he was running out of land.  The end was nigh, when he spied a boat tied to a short pier.  It had a simple sail and was currently unattended.  He pointed and gave Elanor a shout.  She nodded furiously, and they veered in the direction of the boat.  Both sailed over the edge, a swing of Hariel’s blade parted the rope, ad they were off, chasing the wind as they could-for neither were sailors.

As soon as the sail picked up a wind, they lashed the flapping ropes to anything they could find and sat down.  Hariel lay back in the boat, staring toward the horizon while Elanor looked at him, at the weapons he had brought, and back at him.  Hariel was aware of the look that he was getting.  “Something you have to say?”

“Yes, actually.  Where did these come from?’

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

“Try me.”

“They were a gift of the Green Man.”

“Who is the Green Man?  This sounds pretty fishy.”

“Actually, this smells fishy, but we are in a boat.  Just where are you from, if you don’t know the Green Man?”

‘Nowhere you’ve ever heard of.”

“So tell me about it then.”

And Elanor did, as the boat made its way implacably toward the coming troubles.

Published in: on October 26, 2010 at 5:59 am  Leave a Comment  

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