Recollections, the journal of Uniel Zephyr
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The pre-dawn air is damp and slightly cool against her skin as she sits in her favourite tree, eyes closed and mind relaxed. Sounds, all around her, of birds slowly awakening to their daily duties. The low buzz of small insects zipping this way and that, punctuated heavily by the twang of a cicada rising to crescendo and then fading quickly to quiet for another few minutes. The sound of a light breeze nudging the leaves on the trees as it blows by. She smiles faintly and opens her eyes. Her head slanted upwards she spies the lightening sky through the canopy of the ancient forest. To the west it is still somewhat dark, the undersides of the clouds in the skies a deep indigo. The leading eastward edges of these clouds are lit up with the most beautiful rosy pink with a mélange of striking purples and light grays. The whole aerial ensemble is completed with a dashing of rich, warm, golden streaks mixing delicately into the whole view.
Sharp inhale.
A contented sigh.
The smells of the forest primeval are more acute now than they were a few hours ago. The smell of damp earth, the varied scents of animals, the smell of the trees. Crisp clean scent of an early mid-summer's day, ripe with the promise of an unburdened sun and the comforting heat that is sure to follow suit.
This is the Chondalwood.
Her home.
From where she is sitting she knows that the Vilhon Reach and the mess of human civilization is about a week's travel at a comfortable pace North and East. To the North the Maerthwatch mountains curtain the Chondalwood from the Akanamere lake and the vile realm of the Chessentans. From this position in one of the probing lobes of forest she can see the rolling Adder plains lands, laced with the River Adder and the Winding River. Beyond them Methwood and the Smoking Mountains are a barely perceptible line on the horizon. A thin trail of smoke snaking up from the mountain line there, the volcanoes must be in their cycle of activity. The Black Ash Plain undoubtedly under assault from nature's replenishing forces.
Her immediate South is home to the Adder Peaks, and it is in the valley between these peaks and the Maerthwatch mountains that her patch of forest lays. Further Southwards, about three days travel lay the Firesteap Mountains, stretching from the Lake of Steam and the Duskwood to the Eastern reaches of the Chondalwood. The valley between them and the Adder Peaks is about as narrow as the one she sits in currently. This valley is sullied only by the small human town of Torsh and the wagon trail referred to as 'The Old Road' which connects Torsh with Hardcastle to the East and Elbulder and more importantly the tri-city area of Iljak, Samra and Shamph as the road turns sharply North running through the Golden Plains. The road crosses the River Arran and The Nagaflow River, both of which run deep into the Chondalwood and help sustain not only the forest, but her tribesmen as well.
Her tribe is known as Black Ash, so named from the adulthood rituals undertaken by herself and the rest of what is now her tribe. The rituals are made to commemorate not only an individual's, but a groups maturity and understanding of the wilderness. Their ascension to adulthood and full tribe status was dependant on this. For their tribulations they journeyed to Methwood and lived in harmony there for twelve moons. On the dawn of the new cycle the volcanoes of The Smoking Mountains erupted in unison, shaking the ground beneath her tribe's feet. A sign, one worthy of the occasion to be sure. Walking four days out of Methwood and through the Adder Plains lands around the cusp of The Smoking Mountains they made their way to the Black Ash Plain. There they stayed for ten days and fasted to purify their bodies before marking their faces with the now sacred Ash of the Plain, remnants from centuries of volcanic eruptions from the mountains just North. Their ceremony completed, their tribe formed they journeyed home to the Chondalwood, small pouches hanging from each of their necks containing a sampling of the Sacred Black Ash of the Plain.
We are the Black Ash Tribe.
Five seasons had passed in the Chondalwood since that day. The Black Ash Tribe had grown and thrived in that time, settling mostly into a range of territory in the Northern reaches of the wood. The range they occupied was rich with food and relative safety. For a time everything was good. For a time everyone was happy, and together.
On the seventh day of the second month of the Great Rains everything changed. Perhaps looking back I realize now that we should have waited, shouldn't have been so hasty. The Old Road that runs through the large outcropping of forest in these reaches of the wood down to Elbulder and the Golden Plains had seen a steady influx of outlanders. Our Tribe's occasional raids on the caravans that traversed these section of the road seemed to stem the flow for a time, but soon the outlanders returned in greater numbers and better armed. We still struck at them, it is our duty to the sanctity of the Chondalwood to do so, but our attacks became less frequent, better planned and even still, less successful. It is a shame then that we fell for such a simple ploy, which in the end would bring about our downfall.
Rhavaniel came back to us one evening after a week spent spying the woods close the Northern Edge of the forest. The tribe was called to conclave, everyone gathered to hear the report and learn of the hated Chondathans' vile works. Ael'Que was there when I arrived sitting on the ground by the fire as close to Rhavaniel as he could get, the poor silly man.
Even to this day it pains me how infatuated he was, no, is with her even to this day. He pined for her affections daily, practically threw himself at her and she barely knew he existed. I find my place near him and he greets me with a soft smile and a light clap on the back, a friendly brotherly gesture. He returned his attention then to the form of Rhavaniel pacing about in earnest while the rest of the tribe assembled.
An ever so soft sigh escapes my lips.
The smell of confusion and overpowering sense of curiosity bombards my senses as the rest of the tribe arrives. Ael barely speaks to me in that time, focused instead on Rhavaniel. I found myself then, as I had several times since our tribe's forming looking at him the way he looks at her. A sad little chain of people all of them unable to see those around them that really cared, really gave a damn.
I shift closer to Ael and rest my head on his shoulder, my right arm finding it's place around his waist more awkwardly than intended. For all of that he barely stirs, and when I make a contented sound in my throat and nuzzle his clavicle, he awakens from his love induced trance.
Light push of his left elbow.
Quick pain of contact on my right flank.
His arm unfolds and he removes himself from me with more force than really necessary. Out of my clutches, lost to me again.
"Cut it out Uniel!" He cries. The quick flash of anger on his face disappearing almost as fast as it sprang to life.
"I'm sorry Ael…it's just..I-"
"Everyone! Please gather 'round and hear me!" Shouts Rhavaniel.
Ael's gaze is already returned to her with an intensity greater than before. My words cut off by the abrupt bellow from Rhavaniel feel sloppy and awkward in my mouth. The moment is lost, again, as it is every time I try to talk to Ael'Que about...us.
Simple fool, do you not see that she does not feel the same way, hardly notices you. Is it really so hard for you to notice me? Do you not see the way I notice you?
I draw my knees to my chest and rest my head there, watching Rhavaniel with cold detachment as she paces back and forth with that smug look on her face.
"Brothers! Sisters! I return to you now with news from the forest edge!" She proclaims loudly.
Oh boy, here we go, another 'huge' production.
Another soft sigh, another glance to the entranced Ael.
Eyes shift to the fire before her. Small flames and plentiful coals of a well tended hearth. She notices then the familiar smell of the venison that was cooked here only hours ago.
"I have seen those….vile humans invade our sacred Chondalwood yet again! They stray from their precious road and make camp a days journey into the forest. Eighty of them all told, commoners mostly. Light defenses!" The last two words spit out through clenched teeth.
My stomach makes a slight sound and my mouth waters at the thought of the feast to come. Venison garnished with fiddleheads and pepper, a healthy serving of mashed up wild potatoes topped with a helping of delicious mead hijacked from an outlander caravan. Not much else useful from that particular caravan. Still, they traversed the Old Road at its only passing through the Chondalwood, the most dangerous part anyway and they lived.
Slight smile spreads from the right corner of her mouth, lips licked quickly.
For all that they were parted only with six casks of their mead along with some tools and their coin, which, we dumped into the Akanamere lake. Not a bad trade if you ask me.
"They began building their pitiful shelters and soon were felling trees in a wide swath. Wide, tall oaks and maples…saplings and fledglings all!"
Uni's head jerks up, instantly alert. The same cool detached look now giving way to anger and fear. A quick look around reveals that much of the tribe wears the same face as she.
"They are commanded by one man. This is their weakness. They have only six defenders, sell swords from Chessenta by the look of them. We need only strike at their leader. Take care of him in his sleep and his minions will flee the Chondalwood."
There is an audible murmur as everyone seems to talk quietly with those seated around them.
"I move that we gather as quickly as possible and deal with this threat to the wilds before their greed grows further!" Rhavaniel shouts.
Out among the crowd there are hoots and cheers of approval from the rest of the tribe. I raise my hand slowly and shoot her a confident look.
"Rhavaniel, this all sounds well and good…but are you sure they are so lightly armed? How long did you spy on them before running back here to rouse us to action, hmm?" Uniel asks.
The crowd hushes up now. Rhavaniel had been riding the coattails of her recent celebrity status. She made a few choice decisions and moved up quickly through the ranks to get where she is now as one of the chief scouts. Everyone knows this, everyone turns a blind eye to her reckless climb to authority.
Except me.
Uniel's questioning of Rhavaniel's report is a slap in the face. An insult to her capabilities as a leader. An act of defiance from one not so blinded by her theatrics. Her insult gets a hurt look from Ael, anger there…scorn. The look says it all, Hey Uniel, shut the hells up!
Damn Fool, if only you could realize…
The look Rhavaniel gives me is cold enough to still the fires in the Smoking Mountains. I do my best to return the stare. Eerily quiet all around us now, the two of us locked onto each others' gazes.
"You…you insolent cur. Are you saying I saw wrong? You dare to second guess me? How dare you. I stand here before the whole of the tribe telling of an attack, a breach of the forest, and you sit there questioning my validity?"
Oh, fark off…
"I'm sorry Rhavaniel…I just want to make sure. The humans and other outlanders are smarter than you give them credit for." I state plainly, succeeding if only just in keeping my emotions under control.
A measured look through cut eyes from Rhavaniel.
"Perhaps." she says, sounding like she had to force the word from he mouth like a dragon being forced to give up a prized trophy. "But I would rather have them dealt with as soon as possible. Their very presence in our Chondalwood is enough to make me sick!"
Murmurs of agreement from some on the crowd, a few hollers of support. I can feel the gaze of everyone in the tribe piercing my very being. I flick my eyes to Ael, see the pained look he is giving me, trying to get me to back down.
Sorry my love…this bitch needs to be taken down a notch or two.
Flick of my eyes back to Rhavaniel. I keep my face emotionless, my voice soft and calm like a mother trying to convince her youngling that fire is hot.
"Would it really hurt to make sure? What if it is not what it looks like Rhavaniel? Suppose you mount an attack, and something goes wrong. How will you explain yourself then if you lead the screaming hordes of Chondath down on our heads, hmm?" I ask with a subtle raising of a single eyebrow. "Oh yes, we are relatively safe in the wild woods of course. But any outlander ranger worth his salt could eventually track us down. Granted the constant rains of the season would present much trouble in this…it could still be done. You should know full well that during this season breaking camp is foolhardy. We have a superb range of land right now and a near perfect site for our campground. To try and find another one good enough to support our tribe for the next four months in this weather would be quite difficult. We cannot run and hide as is our way. We are rooted here for the season and we are at our most vulnerable."
I crane my neck to look around the assembled tribe, catch the eyes of most of them. Quite a few shoot me looks of approval, curt nods and muted grunts of assent. I even get more than a few friendly cheers from some. I turn my head back to Rhavaniel.
"Tell me Uniel," Rhavaniel says, "what it is you do for this tribe. What is your role here?"
What are you getting at you miserable wretch?
"I am a warrior and a defender of the Black Ash Tribe."
Peripheral look to Ael and a hint of a smile breaks the neutral mask she had been wearing.
A warrior and defender yes…and gods willing a life bringer as well.
Rhavaniel shoots me an insidious grin.
Uh oh.
"Really? Because were it not for the title, I would never figure you for the role. You second guess and cause naught but trouble when we should be coming up with a plan of action. If you claim to be a defender and warrior of The Black Ash Tribe then perhaps it is time you stepped up and proved yourself once more. Stop sewing your seeds of worry and doubt. Grab your sword, join me and do your duty!" She says.
"I will not pursue an attack that will undoubtedly put the lives of every man, woman and child in mortal danger. As part of my duty to my tribesmen, my kin, I have to voice this concern now before you sap the tribe into going along with your stupid plan! Frankly I will not be a part of some attack that resembles a youngling lashing out at a bully more than it does the well thought out, well planned raid or attack of an adult doing what is right, you stupid bitch!" I shout.
Gazes locked, my eyes don't even flicker to Ael anymore. The tension in the big tent is palpable. The hairs on the back of my neck and arms are standing on end, my muscles are taught. Rhavaniel looks dangerously angry and I can hear a low growling coming from deep in her throat.
This is it.
Ael looking between us, I notice in my peripherals, with a horrified look plastered on his face. There are soft murmurs out in the crowd, a soft chanting has taken up.
I stand up straight slowly and brush the dirt from the packed earth floor off my rear. My eyes never leave Rhavaniel. The anger, the tension reeks in the relatively cramped space. I'm armed with nothing but my skinning knife and my fists. I notice with some satisfaction that my shouting match with her has caught her off guard, she is unsure how to proceed next, what to do or what is acceptable.
Let me give you a hint.
I take a step closer to her.
Fight or flight mother farker
Straight faced, I draw my skinning knife cool and slow. The simple bone knife is light in my hand, the stock and grip well worn with use. The eight inch blade jutting out from this well worn handle is sharp and keen.
The chanting from the crowd has grown now.
Fight, fight, fight!
I do not even grin with smug satisfaction when Rhavaniel backs up a step at my sudden possession of a knife. Her eyes widen ever so slightly and the scent of fear is trickling into my senses.
"You…you wouldn’t…" She stammers in a voice that sounds full of false bravado. "We should be fighting the outlanders, not ourselves! You waste precious time! I knew it was a mistake letting your kind in here, in the Chondalwood. You gray elves do not belong and if it were up to me, I would have left you there as a youngling in the woods. I was only fourteen when we found you, you know. Howling and crying, just waiting to die! There were, are others that feel the same way as me…I should have killed you that first night when I had the chance!"
This is it Uni.
Now it is my turn to growl, deep and low in my throat. Eyes still locked with Rhavaniel my jaw hinges open and I hiss reflexively before I even know I've done it.
Fight or flight.
Ael'Que is between us in a blur of movement, his face pushed close to mine, his hands grasping my shoulders. I my body was not kicked into its preparation for this conflict, I would have smiled, perhaps even would have kissed him. 'Poor silly man,' I want to say, 'Look at her. Look at how reckless she is, look at the hatred in those eyes and the weakness she hides like a stubborn child. Well Ael, guess I'm going to have to get on with this. I love you!'
I wish I could have spoken those words to him. Instead all that came out was a snarl as I put a hand on his shoulder and pushed with enough force to send him sprawling. The adrenaline in my giving me more strength than I knew I had, the bloodlust in me growing and beginning to eclipse even my feelings for Ael.
Fight.
I take my bone knife and throw it into the ground near Rhavaniel's feet.
I step right up to her in two easy strides and look her up and down, sniffing loudly.
Small grunt.
I spit at her feet then turn on my heel and storm out of the tent.
Fighting inside the gathering tent is frowned upon and is dishonourable.No one said anything about the camp square though.
I throw the flap of deerskin aside that makes for a door.
Outside the rain is coming down in near torrential sheets that batters against everything with a loud continuous crashing noise. The wind too adds a layer of noise to this symphonic storm as it whips the tree branches back and forth, the big ancient trees uttering their protests in creaks and groans of stressed wood. The normally packed earth consistency of the ground about the camp is now a mush of puddles and mud. The sky is a dark gray, clouds nearly black as coal. The near blinding sudden flash of lightning followed almost immediately by a loud crack turned bass rumble of thunder that resonates down to the fiber of my being. The air reeks of damp earth and vegetation mixed with the metallic twang of the raging electrical storm overhead. Within moments of stepping outside my deer hide clothing is soaked through, the constant abuse suffered by my skin to the relentless downpour of rain while my hair is flung about and smeared against my head and face.
I walk out into the square, ignoring the wind, the rain and my mud caked bare feet sinking into the ground.
Well Uni, now is as good a time as any.
Behind me I hear hoots and chanting as the tribe spills out of the gathering tent. I turn and see them forming a semi circle around what is about to become a temporary arena. All of them soaked, their faces squished, up like they've all bitten something sour, to fight the assault of the rain and wind. Their hair all fluttering about in a strange choreography in the midst of the tempest.
I spot Ael'Que among them, he seems pale and he has a stony worried look on his face. He and I are sparring partners and we've been training together since we could both hold a weapon. The long afternoons spent testing each other, improving technique, pushing each other over thresholds of pain and endurance. The casual and instant camaraderie shared since childhood. Best of friends. For a long time I have felt stronger about our relationship though and I know that if it weren't for his blind devotion to that bitch that he would feel the same. Rhavaniel, naturally, is either as blind to Ael's affections as he is to my own or she is toying with him to some end.
I wouldn’t put it past her to be playing Ael just because she can, the power over someone else to have them at your beck and call.
I think Ael is worried for Rhavaniel honestly. He and many others in the tribe know of my skill in the fighting arts. I've been training for it a long time after all. Rhavaniel on the other hand is a scout and, when needed, an assassin.
I see a part of the crowd open and Rhavaniel comes striding through. Her face is a blank mask as well, locked down with determination. She walks into the square turned arena and looks around her before locking eyes with me.
Her neutral composed face slackens a moment and I see the fear beneath her mask of self inflated courage and ego. Her eyes, widened for the briefest of moments, eyebrows raised and parted ever so slightly to the side, her mouth is a tightly pressed line. Her stance too betrays her fear and fragility. Her arms crossed firmly over her chest while her shoulders are clenched and drawn towards each other. Her feet are not firmly planted in the mud of the arena, as if she is waiting to flee the coming fight. All this plays across her face and body in the span of a few seconds before quickly disappearing behind the mask again.
Fight or flight Rhav…what will it be?
Rhavaniel reaches down and unclasps a simple belt, letting it drop to the ground. She takes a step forwards, eyes locked on mine.
I stare back and step towards her standing just out of reach. The new stance Rhavaniel has taken and the way she seems to carry herself now makes it hard to believe she could really be frightened at all. The deadpan look of determination on her face, jaw clenching every few seconds. I'm just starting to get the feeling that maybe she'll present more of a challenge than I originally thought.
We stand staring in the midst of the storm raging around us. The hoots and cheers from the tribe barely audible over the sound of wind and rain.
Flash of lightning.
A deep battle cry and sudden, no very sudden movement from Rhavaniel closes the distance between us while she simultaneously brings the blade of her hand down towards the base of my neck at a perfect forty five degree angle.
Fark she's fast.
I bring my left arm up and out diffusing her finely attempted spring chop and sending her arm flying away harmlessly. The barely perceived dull pain of the impact absorbed by the toned muscles in my forearm.
I rear back my right arm and swing wide aiming to land my fist on the side of her face. Like the wind she sees this and ducks, my swing following through where her head was only a moment ago, and she brings her leg around in a sweep which I barely have time to hop over to avoid being tripped.
Fark, that was close.
Hop completed, I land on my feet. Rhavaniel's right fist then rises in a sharp jab and catches me in the stomach much harder that I thought her capable of. The breath is knocked out of my lungs instantly and in my sudden daze I am not quick enough in stepping back to dodge her feet locking around my left ankle, the sudden full bodied twist she gives, my quick fall into the thick mud with a dull smack.
I lay there struggling to breathe in the thick mud. My vision when it comes is blurred with water and sudden vertigo. The world around me reels from the shock of the punch, the rapid loss of air in my lungs. My breathing is laboured and heavy, a faint wheezing comes from between my lips with every breath.
Rhavaniel is on me then, driving her right fist into the side of my face like a bony molar grinding up soft flesh. The metallic taste of blood as it fills my mouth.
The muffled crunch as I feel my cheek break under the assault of more punches. The accompanying wail I give when this happens.
Jab to the left eye.
Quick jab to the nose and I hear and feel the tissue break as the blood runs down the back of my throat.
In my training I was taught to disconnect the pain to a certain degree. Block it out and focus on your opponent. Pain, fear and anger are the warrior's thee greatest enemies. Pain will shake the focus you should have on your opponent and this will assure your defeat. Fear is natural, fear is good. Most of the time it is fear that helps ensure we do not do anything foolhardy. Fear most of the time is that voice in the back of your mind begging you to make sure what you are doing is a wise idea. Pain too for that matter, will help you remember what to do and what not to do. Anger is another tricky ally of the warrior. Anger can give you the short term focus you need to get a job done. Anger can also consume you, distract you, and lead you to forget parts of your training. This can get you killed as well. No doubt you will come across a foe that will taunt you, try to enrage you to throw you off balance. So you see, with moderation these three things can help the warrior when needed.
Rhavaniel is straddling my chest now. Hers heaves heavily with the stress of pounding my face repeatedly. My whole head hurts. My ribs and my legs hurt. My face has the look of weathered and rotting fruit, tiny slits for eyes through the inflammation and bruising.
I look up at Rhavaniel and she gazes back down to me with a triumphant look in her eyes. Her left hand reaching behind her back. The devilish grin she gives me as she leans down close to me.
"You pathetic waste of flesh. Your parent's should have fed you to the wilds after you were born, grey elf trash!"
Soak up the pain, compartmentalize it, and get the job done Uni.
"Oh yeah?" I say through split lips and bruised face, my voice a hoarse rasp.
"Quite…if I had been there when your…kind…were allowed to join us in the Chondalwood, I would have killed your whole family!"
All I can manage is a grunt of annoyance.
It dawns on me suddenly that my arms are unpinned, have been in fact, the whole time I was getting my face bashed in. This brings a grin to my face, wide splitting my lips further, blood staining my teeth and clinging to the spaces between.
A quick look of confusion from Rhavaniel.
I produce then a deep throated cackle, arching my back despite the pain of my body and I notice through my pummeled eyes that the hand behind her back is still there and she is still thrown off by my sudden laughter and good mood.
My move sweetheart.
My hands fly up with renewed vigour to meet at the back of her skull and latch on like a tick to flesh. Then following through the movement I pull her head down towards mine with all the force I can muster and I slam my forehead and brow into her nose with a delightful wet crunch.
The howl of pain she belts out could not sound more beautiful to me. The cacophony of pained sound she makes rattles through combined sounds of the still raging storm as blood pours from her nose. I laugh despite myself.
Her hand emerges from behind her back holding a small curved blade which she brings to the fore quickly and thrusts towards me, her eyes seemingly glowing with rage. I deflect her left hand arm out and away from me with the backside of my right arm and bring my own left hand up to deliver a quick jab to her broken nose.
She howls in pain once more and I use the moment's distraction to throw her off of me. Rhavaniel lands hard in the mud on her side and the blood streaming from her nose mixes and swirls in the small puddles on the sodden ground.
Time to end this.
Mustering all my strength I climb to my feet and stumble over to where she lays, towering over her. I kick her in the ribs and stomach repeatedly with force and I feel one or more of her ribs collapse under the duress. Rhavaniel vomits into the mud and cries out in agony, the fight seeming to have gone from her.
"Grey bitch!" She says between sobs and small convulsions and I reward her with a hard kick to her stomach, she vomits again.
Around me I hear the howls and cheers from the gathered tribe and I look around at them with a smug victorious grin. They all understand what happened tonight. There was a challenge to Rhavaniel's authority, which quickly escalated -mostly on her part- to a point where a duel was necessary. These duels are taken seriously by the tribe, the winner proving him or herself stronger and more fit than his or her opponent gains more support for his or her ideas or plans. In the case of a difference in social standing or rank, in the tribe's hierarchy, the winner advances and the loser falls to the level that the winner previously held.
Meaning precisely that I now have a position of command in the tribe, whereas Rhavaniel is now relegated to hunting for food, taking orders, watching over the younglings et cetera.
Probably better to not let her near the children lest she taint them all.
My eyes find Ael'Que pushing his way to the front of the crowd, his face twisted with anger and fear. He trots across the muddy camp square to where I stand over the curled foetal Rhavaniel, my bare foot resting firm enough on the back of her neck to drive my victory and her lose home to her.
To keep this whelp from trying anything stupid.
When Ael makes it to me I square my shoulders and raise my battered head to jut my bloodied chin in victory. I've beaten the one he cares for, taken her role as a leader, and now is as good a time as any to rightfully claim my mate.
"Hullo Ael'Que," I say with a mockingly condescending tone, "What do you think of this pathetic excuse for a leader now, huh?"
"Uniel…." The muscles in his jaw flex with his anger, his gaze cuts through me. "Uni…how…how could you do this to Rhavaniel?"
He gestures down to her, looking sorrowfully at her a moment before returning his hardened glare to me.
A little piece of me is actually scared of Ael. I have never seen him this angry and he is stronger than I am.
I spit on the ground beside Rhavaniel, bloody still from my own broken nose and cut up mouth. I sigh lightly and close my bruised eyes a moment, taking a second to just listen to the raging storm before I open my eyes and look back to Ael.
"I think, Ael, that it is pretty farking obvious why. In fact I think you are the only one in this whole tribe that doesn't know why."
I gesture down to Rhavaniel myself.
"This…idiot…wanted to lead us all into a pretty obvious death trap. I opposed her and she insulted me and my honour. There was no other way, you should know this. Instead you have your head up your arse following Rhavaniel around like some cudlip." I say, almost shouting the last word while I gesture emphatically.
The icy look I get as my only response could chill even the Nine Hells themselves. The minute of silence seems to drag on for an eternity before he picks up the battered Rhavaniel and storms off to her tent.
"Fark." I mutter under my breath whilst I cradle my forehead in the palm of my hand.
I wonder then what would have happened if I had lost the fight. What would Ael have done if it had been me crumpled in a battered heap in the ankle deep mud and pounding rain. For the first time in my life I'm not sure he would have helped me or even cared.
The wind gusts suddenly blowing my hair in a torrent about my head, the force of it nearly sends me stumbling. I look up and see the rest of the tribe turning and heading to their tents. Mostly I get curt nods of approval, my honor defended, the code of a tribal warrior society upheld. It is the few looks of hatred, filled with such malice that I could swear the Abyssal plane opened up and poured onto me. I know that my newly gained position in the tribe will not be accepted by all, things will not be easy but the Black Ash tribe will endure. This is not what is bothering me.
The image of Ael giving me that icy look, like I was dead to him, sends a shudder through me as I stand outside in the tempest of the rainy season's storm. My face is damp from the rain, bloody, bruised and starting to swell. I am in pain from my injuries, but they cannot compare to the emotional pain that look gave me.
A muffled whimper, and then a quiet sob escapes my lips. Everyone is inside now and I am alone. I stumble over to a tree stump and gingerly ease my beaten body into a sitting position on it, my knees drawn up to my chest, arms wrapped around them. I rest my forehead on my knees and even though I am soaked to the bone and my body is in pain, I know that for the first time since I last saw my parents I am crying.
