The northern winds moved through the leaves and branches like an advance scout for the coming rains. The jungle knew the portent of the zephyr that prowled the hills and glades. Ashlan too knew the signs well; in his hundred and fifty six years of life he had become attuned to the jungle and all its faces.

From the saddle of his horse Ashlan surveyed the jungle ahead of him. Another half days ride would have had them safely at the Gathering Place. Last night the man had escaped and taken the Fey scout as a prisoner. Two of his brothers had paid with their lives; this man was more than some mercenary. This adversary was worthy and Ashlan was looking forward to the challenge. It had been years since he had enjoyed a good hunt.

Ashlan reflected back to a hunt many years ago that had ended with two of his best men debasing themselves by lying with a human woman. He had ended their lives for the lack of respect they had shown to their heritage. The Elven bloodline had been pure for thousands of years, just like the goddess had intended. He could not allow any under his command to conceive of anything other than a pure, untainted future for his people.

Ashlan rode his horse to the front of his honor guard. Speaking the ancient tongue of the Drow mixed with the more informal language of the common Fey, he revealed his intentions in a cool, matter of fact, tone. ‘The lowlander who was our captive has forfeited the customary Cath’ra’hi protection. Two of our brothers have fallen under his knife and a third hangs in the balance.’ Ashlan urged his horse to one side, revealing his sharp preternatural profile. ‘We shall not rest until we have freed our sister and removed the human blight from our lands.’

Hemmer moved quickly through the trees using his practiced ability to blend with undergrowth. Stopping only briefly to catch his breath. His labored breathing reflected his diminished lung capacity from the knife wound that had been his bane these many days. He knew escaping south to the border on foot was not possible. The black elf commander had horses and knew the area well. Guile was going to have to be his weapon.

He stopped, crouching low and motionless. He could sense, more than hear, Naleth mirror his actions. In a hoarse whisper he spoke to her. ‘You should not have come with me. If you leave now you still have a chance.’ The rasp of his voice was followed by a quick blast of air from his lips sending the pink spittle to the ground.

Naleth stood and walked toward him. Her tone was direct. ‘What chance would that be? The chance to return to my old life. The chance to ignore the truth. I have no choice.’

Her face flushed as her emotions swelled. Her eyes glistened with moisture. She bit at her lower lip dropping her hands to her side. ‘Even my Goddess sides with you against my people. Damn your ignorance!” Her words were once again a garble mixture of Elvish and Human.

Hemmer heard the words, but he wasn’t listening. He had become very comfortable with her looks. His body felt the calling. Feelings he had long suppressed were surfacing. He hated himself for the betrayal of his wife’s memory. His thoughts were racing. Her eyes were intoxicating. Her features were exquisite. She looked at him with an intensity that he had not seen before.

It had been ten years since Kenna’s death, but her memory was his life’s blood. The more time he spent around the elf maiden the more her memory faded. Losing the memory of her was unbearable. He had to distance himself from Naleth, forget her, return to his mission.

Hardening his resolve he uttered words of truth, but not conviction. ‘You want to know why I’m here?’ Squinting his eyes against the afternoon sun, Hemmer squared his shoulders toward her. ‘I have committed terrible acts under a banner of war. Acts against your people ‘ I am the enemy.’ Hemmer drew a shaky breath then continued. ‘But my past sins will crumble in the presence of my present intentions. I am hardly worthy of your concern or your pity.’ Hemmer fixed his gaze on the elf maiden, He was only barely able to finish his thought before his own emotions threatened to quiet him.

Pulling back his vest to reveal the metal canisters on his hip, he breathed deep once more. ‘ Do you know what these are for?’ Naleth glanced down at the familiar vials at his hip. ‘Yes I do.’ She said clinching her jaw. “You are not the first to cross into our lands in search of immortality.”

Naleth shifted her balance and launched her own verbal assault pointing her finger at him to accentuate her point. ‘I didn’t set you free so you could go off on some vindictive rampage’. Hemmer interrupted, ‘Don’t you see? I am spent! I am Death’s servant now.’ Hemmer’s ragged breathing added a sinister quality to his words. ‘You can’t save me, so don’t try.’

Hemmer’s anger had not been directed at Naleth really. He hated himself. The words he flung were not really intended for her. She moved to within a whisper of him. He could see a spark building in her. Her eyes moved like a gathering storm. She took a deep breath preparing to speak. He knew he couldn’t let her convince him of her need to stay with him. The conflict in him was too strong. Only one woman in his life had ever claimed his heart. Her memory was all he held onto. His reward for loving her was pain and loss. Love for this woman, this elf, would damn both of them.

He would send her away one way or another. He wrapped his long calloused fingers around the familiar wood of his rifle, took a step back and brought it to bear on her.

Naleth didn’t flinch at the sight of the weapon directed at her chest. Her eyes, however, carried the weight of his betrayal.

Lifting her hands from her side she grabbed the barrel of the rifle and pulled it up to her chin. Her words were sharp and choked with emotion. ‘Let me help you.’ Her hand traveled down the length of the barrel, he felt her thumb against his trigger finger. Without breaking her gaze on him he felt her pressing against his trigger finger. Hemmer could feel the crafted metal mechanism connected to the trigger beginning its inevitable path toward percussion. She was not bluffing. The hammer started on its path to the priming pan. Time slowed for him. She had chosen the outcome. The large bore of the barrel would open a hole in her.

His stomach muscles were the first to tense as the message traveled from his head to his hand. Cupping the priming pan of his rifle with his free hand, the hammer contacted the back of his hand with a soft thud. In doing so he had rendered the shot inert and surrendered to her will.

He lowed the gun.

Naleth wasted no time in expressing her feelings. With an open hand she unloaded her frustration on him. His face awoke with the shock of her strike.

The two of them stood toe to toe.

He stood there with his eyes downcast. She was waiting expectantly.

He could not bring himself to look at her. He knew, even with the sting from her attack still pulsing across his face, that if he made eye contact with her he would be lost. He wanted to be far away from here. Waiting here in the eternity of the moment was more painful than anything he had endured.

Still looking downward He allowed himself to speak. His lips barley parted as the words came out. ‘I don’t intend to run anymore.’

Naleth knew the moment she removed the irons from his wrists last night that their fates were interlocked. She realized that defiance of her people’s customs had been sending her down this path for some time. Back in the summoning chamber of the ruined temple she had peered inside his soul. He was transparent to her. Thoughts of it had gnawed at her in the hours after leaving the ruins.

She had grown up as a stranger amidst her people. She had never given herself over to anyone. Maybe it was pride, more likely it was fear. She had been different, reckless by her people’s standards. She had offended every suitor that came calling, but here in the presence of this man she had found her place. The wisdom she had earned in her many years of life was not lost on love. Having experienced his aura, it was clear where her heart lie.

Stepping forward she cradled his chin in her hand. His cobalt eyes locked on hers. She rocked forward onto her toes, closed her eyes and pressed her lips to his mouth. The caress of his whiskers made her heart pound. His lips were still and unresponsive. She felt the chill of rejection. Sliding her hand down to his neck and lowering her head to rest against his chest, she felt his arms wrap around her and relaxed slightly. He pulled her in close. His heart was pounding and his breathing fluttered. For the first time in her life the moment was more important than the outcome.

Ashlan gave the command to dismount. He would water the horses here at the river before continuing his pursuit. The man had been careless in his escape. His tracks were easily revealed to a trained hunter. Ashlan was confident he would have his prey before nightfall.

Dismounting from his horse he dropped the reigns and gave the command to his horse to drink. With an idle shuffle the horse obeyed. Removing his gloves Ashlan weighed his options. At his present pace he should overtake them within the hour. If he waited until the sun went down he would have a greater advantage over the man. Human vision was no match for that of a Fey at night.

The man had been running, taking longer breaks with each rest. He was injured and it showed. Ashlan had seen the stains of blood on the man’s chest. No doubt a knife wound. That wouldn’t change things. He would be killed plain and simple.

Ashlan looked up at his quiver of arrows and his bow slung across the saddle of his mount. This would be the instrument of destruction for the Lowlander.

Rain heavy clouds forced their way between the sun and the dense canopy of trees. The rainy season had returned. At first only a few drops fell, but within minutes the sky was painted grey and the soil under foot was moist and slippery. Ashlan adjusted his helmet and pulled a cover from his saddlebag.

With ritual motions he covered his weapons to ward off the harmful effects of the weather. Snapping his fingers he called his troops to attention and with only hand gestures indicated they were moving across the river.

A chill wind swept up the river as the column reached the mid point of the river. Ashlan was focused on keeping his steed facing into the current. The steep embankment on the far side was overgrown and capped by young-growth trees. His experience had taught him to examine the exit point from the river with care. It would be folly to have to pick a new route once he had entered the water. The embankment had a good exit trail, free of large roots and having sufficient soil retention to accommodate the horses.

That is when he saw the first signs of trouble. From high on the hillside a bright spark flashed. Through the wind driven rain he only heard a light cracking sound. A moment later his horse threw its head wildly to the left. The motion sent horse and rider into the swift waters.

He was caught under the weight of his mount and plunged helplessly into the water. Veiled in the tumbling chaotic water he attempted to free himself from his stirrups. He was moving with the swift current and could see the water around him was clouded with red. Tensing his stomach muscles he fought against the current to reach his boot. He could feel his boot had slid through the stirrup ring and was fixed fast. Fanning his arms against the water he struggled to catch a breath of air. With considerable effort he was able to force his face above the waves. Taking in a ragged breath he was quickly pulled under again. Fumbling for his knife he pulled himself to where he could reach his boot. Sawing at the leather portion of the stirrup he cut himself free of his dead mount. With a surge of effort he surfaced again. The river was washing him down stream. Ahead he saw a large rock and a fallen tree bridging part of the river. Ashlan reached out for the branch, dropping his knife in the process. Straining against the weight of the river he pulled himself up onto the rock.

Rain pummeled him as the struggled to see what had happened up stream. He had drifted too far from the crossing. The fallen tree would provide him access the far side of the river. He would find a way to get behind the lowlander and finish him.

Keeping his powder dry in the rainstorm was becoming increasingly difficult. Naleth was sending a relentless hail of arrows down on the Veighsee guard. The river was doing the rest. The ambush point was perfect. The crossing was difficult with only one path up the embankment. Hemmer had taken note of it when they crossed over it an hour ago. Once Naleth had made it clear they were in this together they moved as quickly as possible to get back here before the honor guard arrived. It was fortunate that the Drow commander had taken the opportunity to water his horses. Settling into a concealed spot just as the rain started to fall. Hemmer waited until they were at the deepest point of the river before taking out the lead horse.

Of the original nine riders only four remained. On the near bank one of the light skinned elves had found partial cover behind a rotten tree. He was finding his range quickly even with the water soaked arrows. The remaining three were clamoring up the muddy embankment. Taking a bead on the archer Hemmer fingered the trigger. Smoke flashed from the pan, but no shot rang out. ‘Damn!’ cried Hemmer. Naleth was moving to intercept the warriors climbing toward her position. He called to Naleth over the sound of falling rain and rushing river. ‘The archer! shoot the archer.” Glancing down he caught a glimpse of an arrow in flight. She was fully exposed and it was heading her direction. He barked out her name as a warning. ‘Naleth!’ She dropped her shoulder an bent her frame backwards to avoid the arrow allowing it to pass over her, but the loose soil at the edge of the overhang gave way sending her tumbling down the hill. She came to a rest at the edge of the river. In an instant she was on her feet. Her quiver of arrows had spilled out all over the vine-covered hillside. Drawing two daggers she readied herself for melee.

Hemmer cleared the damp powder from the priming pan and quickly added more from his powder horn. With an exhale he delivered a killing shot to the archer.

The three remaining elves had cornered Naleth against the bank of the river. She was slowly yielding ground to them. He kept an eye on the fight as he loaded his rifle. Powder, paper. Naleth swung in a wild arch in an attempt to hold ground. Tamp it down, add the shot. One of the Drow answered with a horizontal slash, forcing her to reel backwards. Tamp it down, remove the rod. In a coordinated effort the Fair-skinned elf in the font thrust at her midsection. Prime the pan, cock the hammer. Dropping her knife she grasp his thrusting blade to keep from falling into the river. The fair-skinned elf slipped on the muddy embankment and fell to his knees. Hemmer pulled his trigger and buried a lead ball into the back of Drow elf to her left. He pitched into the river and was taken by the current. Two left. He mouthed to himself.

Naleth climbed up out of the muddy riverbank and lashed out at the vulnerable soldier stuck in the mud. Her attack was blunted by his armor. He grabbed her arm and pulled her in close. The other warrior primed his sword for a killing strike. Hemmer climbed to his feet and launched himself down the hill. The steep grade immediately stole his balance. Skidding through mud and roots he swam more than fell to the base of the incline. Raising his head from the mud he pushed himself to his feet. He franticly looked to see the outcome of the attack. The two elves and Naleth were in a pile at the rivers edge. The black elf rose first. He turned his head toward Hemmer and withdrew a bloody sword from the waters edge. Crimson stains ran across his teeth as he grimaced. The elf slogged up out of the mire. Hemmer’s heart was pounding like a war drum he couldn’t hear anything else. His mouth was slack as he howled against his misfortune. A crackle of sound escaped him as he raised his rifle butt. The wooden stock carried all his malice and frustration down on the black elf. Hemmer saw him go down. He knew that he was still hitting him with the butt of the rifle but he was no longer in his right mind.

This was the second time he had wished for death. In his head swarmed the faces of those he failed to protect. Kenna, Sorah, Ian, Kip, and now Naleth. Rocking back onto his haunches he let his arms fall slack. The rain beat down on his face washing away the mud. ‘I am undone, what more can you take from me!’ He shouted a challenge to the heavens.

Wiping the blood-soaked mud from his face he crawled toward the bodies surging with the tide. Naleth’s hair had fallen from its braid. He lifted her out of the mud placing her head in his lap. Combing her damp hair out of her face with his fingers he noticed her hair was the same color as Ian’s. He had held him like this not ten years ago. The irony of the moment was not lost on him. He craned his head skyward once more. ‘I am nothing. You have made me nothing. I will defy you. You will no longer torment me. Arm yourselves I Am coming for you!’

Closing his eyes he focused his rage. Sliding out of his body he entered the realm of shadows. Consumed with anger he pushed on without looking back. In the distance he could see the snow capped mountains. The gods would answer for their crimes.

He had never before traveled more than a few hundred feet from his body in spirit form. Now he pressed on, traveling at the speed of hate.

Naleth awoke choking on river water. She found herself lying in Hemmer’s lap. Her hands stung even in the cool water of the river. She raised them to see the deep cuts that flowed red with her blood. Looking once again at the man his eyes were shut and his breathing was low and rhythmic. He was spirit walking.

The confines of his body seemed far behind him. The world rushing by below appeared distorted and foreign. Much in his life was exaggerated. The love he had for Kenna, his position in the King’s army, the all-consuming pain of lost loved ones.

When he accepted his conscript to joint the academy he knew he was starting a life built on violence. He didn’t realize at the time how that kind of life affects everyone you know or encounter. Many soldiers had learned this lesson early in their careers and avoided attachment. Hemmer had failed in that regard he had fallen for Kenna while he was still in the academy. How young and foolish he was back then, unable to see the consequence of his lifestyle.

Willpower propelled travel here in this ether-world of shadows. Subtle things stood out, where obvious objects were often shrouded. The enormous trunks of the trees were near to the color of shadow, but the broad leaves seemed unnaturally luminescent with the rain glistening of them. The smoky ether clouds cast a de-saturating light on everything, but somehow the patterns of rain falling from one leaf to another on their path to the soft forest floor was as clear to him as strings pulled through a weavers lomb. The journey of each drop of rain was clear and unmistakable. Even without following the line to its conclusion he knew the fate of each raindrop. With similar clarity he could see the events of his life taking shape. How is it that each decision seemed so convoluted when it was made, but appears obvious through the lens of history. His life’s direction was his to control like a child running down a hill. Circumstance has more effect than will or desire. All he seemed to have control over was the speed of his descent.

His pace slowed as his rage turned to angst. He started up the slopes of the mountain, acutely aware that he had attracted the attention of several malevolent spirits that had been lingering at the edge of the jungle. Hoping to avoid any unnecessary confrontations Hemmer redoubled his efforts in order to evade them.

He had been traveling on the spirit plane for a while now, but time seemed to have little relevance here. He had been propelled by rage, suspended in thought. All those years ago he had been ready to surrender his body when the Drow ambush took his family. Olio had coerced him back from the dead and given him a second chance. It had taken a while to believe he was worthy of that chance. For a time all he cared about was revenge. Vengeance sustained him throughout the war and followed him as he ventured down the path of a bounty hunter.

Somehow it didn’t seem strange that he was racing to sunder the home of the Gods. Instinct and what little he knew of theology drove him to the summit of Mount Shiriki in the Abahli Mountains.

Nitasi sat with the council. Coyote had just resumed his place atop his bench. His words hung breathlessly in the air. Nitasi found himself amazed and confused. The tale Coyote had told was unthinkable. He had given the amulet to the men of the south. This was a betrayal of the seven tribes and Nitasi knew he had to say something. ‘Coyote, it is one thing to play your games within the tribal boundaries, but now you have gone too far.’ Coyote shifted in his seat and waited for reaction from the others. When none was forthcoming he raised his lip in a half smile and responded. ‘Was it not Karuk that destroyed his own people on the very eve that he regained his rage. You cannot question my methods when your every action validates my choice.’ Nitasi hated Coyote, but the truth of his words made him shrink. He could feel the voice inside him climbing out of its cave. Eagle too sensed the growing malice. ‘ You will not vet your rage here amongst this council! You consider your actions, at the campfire we are free to speak our minds without fear of reprisal.’ moments later the council erupted in discussion. Rabbit and Deer were animated in their calls to disband for the evening and let emotions calm before resuming the council. Karuk withdrew within himself to gain control.

The droning voices around the campfire receded when he sensed another presence nearby. His rage departed. No one at the campfire noticed that Nitasi was just a man sitting on a bench. His bear form was gone. The others hadn’t turned their attentions to him yet. Then the all fell silent. Deer was the first to respond. Dropping his antlers he bristled and faced up the mountain. Ashes and smoke filled the air. The soft red glow of the flames bathed everything in golden hues. One by one the council melted into the darkness. Man and animal at once became insubstantial. He could feel they were still nearby, but they had transcended this place.

The rain continued to fall and the river was swelling. Naleth had waited as long as she dared before moving Hemmer’s body away from the river. She wasn’t sure how it would affect him while he was spirit-walking. She pulled him higher up the embankment to a shelter she had fashioned from branches, large leaves, and bamboo. She was careful not to jar him as she pulled him up from the muddy bank. Naleth struggled in the mud to move the large warrior. Her sheer will allowed her to move him under these conditions. She propped him up against a large root and adjusted the foliage to deflect as much of the rain as possible. Returning to the rivers edge, she started picking through the remains of the honor guard for supplies.

‘Sister, you are unharmed?’ The unmistakable voice of the honor-guard commander pierced her like an arrow. She turned and looked up the hill.

Slowly making his way down the path was Ashlan Sommurfaghl, commander of the Veighsee guard, principal cleric of the temple of Feyhillanna, and advisor to the council. His black skin and white vestments moved in stark contrast to the green and brown of the jungle. She realized by his posture and the tone of his voice that he was not aware of her contribution to the destruction of his troops. Naleth felt her heart pounding. She was no match for him and she knew it. If he discover Hemmer’s body and saw the signs of her concealment, her time would be marked by the blinking of an eye not the passing of the sun. ‘I am well commander.’ She raised her chin and widened her stance.

The rain intensified, she raised her hand to her brow to keep her vision clear. The black elf stopped on a patch of grass at the end of the muddy bog between the river and the hill. He looked distant as he surveyed the remains of his company. ‘And what of the man?’ He did not look her direction as he posed the question.

Naleth measured her answer trying not to look at the copse that concealed the spirit-walker. ‘I am no longer his captive.’ All the while the black elf had been studying the field of battle. She could feel him assembling the evidence. He would soon know what had happened here, if he didn’t already suspect.

She had to distract him quickly, long enough for her to… ‘Commander, we should gather what supplies we can and get to shelter while we still have some light.’ He seemed to hear her words, but was still focused on replaying the battle. ‘There will be time for that, the rain seeks to undo the record of what happened here.’ The white skirting of his overlay was now caked in mud. He had discarded the idea of cleanliness as he paced through the bog in an effort to read the marks. Naleth felt time closing in on her.

The white forelocks of the commander channeled the rain down from his face. She couldn’t remember seeing anyone so intent or focused before. He radiated an intensity that charged the air. Goddess protect me she thought. She was feeling the cold wind settle in on her from the river. Against her will she started to tremble. Ashlan looked up from his tracking. ‘You’re right, we should be going.’ She thought she saw a glint of deception in his eyes. Did he know of her betrayal? She would have to be very cautious.

Ashlan never took his eyes off her while she was gathering her equipment. She took only the things that were close to the river. Careful not to move toward Hemmer’s concealed position. Ashlan gave a sharp whistle and within minutes three horses arrived at the clearing, each bearing some of the load of their former rider. Lashing the reins of the third horse to his saddle horn Ashlan proceeded to bind the extra equipment pack-horse fashion. Moments later he swung into the saddle of the lead horse and gestured for her to follow. She mounted the remaining horse and made the journey North, back across the river.

She was thankful for the rain to hide her tears.

In spirit form you are void of most sensations. The snow covered rocks below him looked cold and treacherous. Ether winds were not moved by the currents that compelled clouds. The winds and eddies here were all the result of someone’s or something’s passing. Hemmer knew the depths of his emotions well and here in this place that was power. The strongest creatures here were those that had learned to channel one emotion or another. Since anger was the easiest to summon most creatures here wielded it.

The gathering of entities on the downward side of the mountain managed to sustain themselves on the other emotions, save one. The colorful auras of animals surrounded men seated around a campfire. Hemmer looked at his own aura for a moment. It was a dull red. Had sorrow replaced his rage? He approached the fire. After all he had come this far and the outcome didn’t matter. He would speak his mind and if that wasn’t enough, well, another course of action would be decided on in the moment.

The bear spirit was the first to take notice of him. It turned and moved toward him without the man it had surrounded. Hemmer recognized the spirit. They had met several days ago when he and Naleth were traveling near the ruins. The spirit was much stronger now, but it was tempered too.

He had found them, the Gods, conspiring to bring their special breed of misery down on some unsuspecting soul. It was just how he had imagined it. A council of elder spirits spinning yarns about the humans they controlled and how to sway them to do more of their bidding. Puppet masters and charlatans, he mumbled softly. Making his way toward the fire he hardened his resolve.