Jerak sensed the uncertantity of his friend, he had not been this excited since they found this place

"THE ELF RUN" a Dark Sun short story by Fabian Benavente

The Elf Run

One strong stride followed another and surely the swift bodies ate up the ground. It did not matter whether the crimson sun was beating down on them or the twin moons were the only witnesses to their passing. It did not matter whether their feet sank deep into the sandy wastes or tall grasses caressed their strong legs. It did not matter whether they breathed fresh air or were being choked by sand or silt. It did not matter whether they were running away from predators or whether they were approaching a nobleman’s rich caravan. The elves ran and could not lag behind for they knew that the wastes or worse would soon take care of any slackers…

Their few belongings were either carried by strong warrior or borne in the back of pack animals. The young elves would be carried by their mothers until there were old enough to run with the tribe. A short time after they could stand, these elves panted and struggled to keep up for they knew that they would be made fun of by their peers if they had to be carried. The first of many tests for an elf was to be able to run with the tribe. The young one who was being carried would be surrounded by other running young elves who would taunt and jeer them. The wee ones would cry and fight and demand to be let to run. They would run for a while and fall flat on their faces again when the process would start all over again.

The run continued its course and old men and women did their best to keep up with the rest of the tribe. The tribe could not afford to carry adult elves not even injured ones with them. To not keep up, meant to be left behind for the tribe could not loose mobility. This culture was so ingrained into them that the elf who could not run with the tribe would rather die than bear the dishonor of being carried. An elf that could not run was a dead elf.

The endless sand dunes were the only witnesses to their passing as their fleet feet disturbed the intricate patterns the wind had created. Like all things in Athas, even these were temporary and were quickly erased as a light gust wiped out their footmarks. The wind, far from providing comfort from the relentless sun, was hot and dry and only made things worse by stirring up the sands. The sand did its best to choke and blind those that dared disturb it. The elves were used to these conditions and their pace did not let up because of them.

The whole tribe was best at this time, many individual souls linked as one. T’poli reviewed his tribe and swelled with pride. He wasn’t excited about being in these sandy wastes but the tribe needed the trade. Historically the tribe had been like most other elf tribes making a living by preying on the weak. But these elves soon learned that those that live for the raid can also be raided or worse. It is well known that there is no unity among the different elven tribes. T’poli’s tribe came to compete for the same territory and was almost exterminated by the infamous Black Sand raiders. The tribe was forced to migrate south and then went out west over the sandy wastes. It was there that their living conditions changed.

These lands proved to be a surprise for T’poli and the remaining members of the tribe. The desert wastes gave way to lushful scrublands where plenty of game abounded. There weren’t many caravans passing by and the only settlements were those of the strange lizardmen. The lizardmen patrolled their two towns by ground and air but otherwise kept to themselves. They had somehow managed to tame the ferocious pterraxes and thus controlled the skies. The tribe quickly learned to avoid them during their roaming and the lizardmen seemed content to be left alone.

The elven tribe captured and tamed some of the wild erdlu in the land and started herding and caring for the large reptile-birds. It was really exciting watching the tribe’s best runners capture the wild beasts. They would run them down; no easy feat even for an elf and only the best runners were up to it. They had managed to use a new weapon to catch the erdlu that would not hurt the reptile-birds too much. The elven sprinter would get close enough to the beast and then twirl three fist sized stones attached to each other by a sort of string. These would entangle the bird’s feet and at full run; the bird would come tumbling down in cloud of dust. It would struggle and shriek to no avail to free itself and would still try to strike with its strong beak at any getting close enough. It was a short time after that the other elves would get close to the creature and with long "Y" shaped sticks would pin their snake-like heads down. A short rope would tie the new bird to a tamed one and a leather hood would cover its head until it was used to its new herd. After some time, the elves would slowly take these hindrances away.

The technique has been perfected and very few elves were now lost when the tribe went erdlu hunting. The tribe based their trade on the reptile-birds and as the elves would say "the only thing they did not use of the erdlu were their screeches". The hide could be toughened or kept pliable depending on its future use which went from armor and shields to clothing, their claws and beaks made excellent piercing weapons or tools, the meat was edible and even their guts were treated and made excellent rope. The bird’s leg bones were excellent and the tribe’s weapon smithies made excellent long swords from them. Even their bladders would be treated to hold water and made excellent waterskins. It was ironic that the very same "bolas" that brought them down were made from erdlu gut.

T’poli needed to continue trading and so every year he moved his tribe to the southern portion of the ringing mountains where he met a small merchant house from the Ivory Triangle. The meeting place changed each time as neither party wanted to cross the sandy wastes and so it came out that it was the Bird Runner tribe´s turn to cross the hated desert. The tribe would trade part of their herd and utensils that were very valuable when brought to the Tablelands markets.

The trade had gone exceptionally well and T’poli was heading back, albeit with a lot fewer erdlu but he was proud. Everyone seemed absorbed in the task at hand. The feet would sink deep into the soft sand and the tribe made slow progress. He had already told the warriors of the need to capture another herd of wild erdlu to augment its own depleted herd. Even with their improved hunting techniques, the birds did pose somewhat of a threat; they did fight when cornered and it was not unusual for an elf to be disemboweled by a sharp claw of the 7 foot tall reptile-birds. It was not the best way but it did help to weed out the weak stock of T’poli’s own tribe. The land was never merciful and everyone had to fight all the way.

The warning whistle broke the tribe’s trance and everyone soon stopped and was ready for the worse. The danger was not yet evident, as the warning had come from a scout that was patrolling a few hundred yards to the north of the main body of the group. The young maiden soon came running at full speed and shouted in frightful tones "Run, run, ‘tis a sand ripper, maybe two." The group needed no more urging and was soon plowing the dunes at top speed.

The odd scene found the elves escaping from an invisible foe but this did not deter the long legged humanoids. The erdlu pack was left on its own by an ungiven order and naturally lagged behind. The reptile-birds happily slowed down and enjoyed a brief respite from the forced march. It was then that the sand ripper emerged from the ground. Its 10 foot long body appeared in a spray of sand and its immense teeth filled jaw opened. Its forward thrust brought it right on top of the erdlus and its teeth clamped shut on one of the reptile-birds. The noise of the bones crunching coupled with the terrified screams of the herd was yet another incentive for the tribe to continue its desperate run. The sand ripper continued its thrust and the ground opened up again and swallowed prey and predator whole with only a pile of bloodied sand left to mark the trail.

The sand ripper were vicious hunters but, as such, killed only for food. This one already had a meal so it would not fight again unless cornered and there wasn’t an elf alive willing to do that. The tribe relaxed now that the episode was over and some of the fastest warriors started to run after the remaining reptile-birds. The erdlu were social birds and such kept together but the sand ripper had scared the herd. It was now split into various little groups that had to be chased down. It would take the rest of the day to gather the whole herd together once again.

The sands split apart once again and spat forth another beast. This was a smaller specimen of the dreaded sand rippers but was by no means less vicious. It bit into the leg of one of the runners and started thrashing its head from side to side to try and break off the piece. More out of instinct than anything else the elf started screaming and defending himself. He managed to stick his erdlu bone spear into the beast’s mouth and thus prevented it from closing all the way. His agonizing screams received attention as a few warriors ran to his aid. The sand ripper dug himself partially into the sand using his telekinesis power which allowed them to swim in soft soils for short periods of time. The elf’s body was sunk to his waist as other warriors came and grabbed his hands trying to keep him above ground. Two other elves started to poke their spears where the beast should be and their thrusts hit true as the spearheads came up bloodied again and again.

The sand ripper finally stopped its violent shaking and died under the onslaught. The elves proceeded to dig him out and pry his jaws open so as to allow their tribe member to pull his badly wounded leg out. The elf’s satisfied smile at being alive turned dark as he tried his footing and found out that he could barely stand. He screamed his rage and violently stuck his broken spear into the beast’s head. T’poli camped for the rest of the day while his warriors gathered the rest of the erdlu herd. The elves feasted on sand ripper that night. The elves paid special attention to their wounded comrade and fed him the best morsels of roasted sand ripper and the recently acquired kank honey. His head spun with the strong drink but he did not slow down at all. The party died down late into the night as the flutes haunting music gave way to the howling winds.

The wounded warrior awoke with the full morning sun on his face. He shook his unnaturally sleepy head, winced at the pain, and rubbed his eyes. He found himself alone; his tribe had honored him with a feast last night and had been generous and left him his broken spear and a bladder full of water. He placed his weight on his injured foot and flinched as pangs of pain shot up his leg. His ankle was swollen and showed a bright purplish color to it. He dared not scream his rage again lest someone hear him. He knew the tribe was going west and did not expect it to slow down for him. He knew his luck was forfeited as an elf that could not run was a hindrance to its tribe and only served to put it in danger. The endless sand dunes stretched out as far as he could see and he knew there was no chance of catching up the tribe in his current state. He set his jaw against the pain as he started limping towards the west putting part of his weight on his broken spear…

Pterran Trial

Tun’ga had been following the party throughout the night. She had sacrificed her night’s sleep knowing very well that her prey did not sleep. She unconsciously combed back her shoulder length dirty blond hair. She wore it tied back in a ponytail and that left her prominent large ears uncovered. She smelled the night’s air and thanked her maker that the party kept upwind from her as she swallowed a gulp of warm water down her gullet. It seemed to her that they were also hunting.

She was out scouting and did not expect too much trouble which was why she did not wear her full chitin armor. She put on her helmet that covered the upper portion of her face. The hollowed out eye sockets served as a mask for her that helped to hide her features and a pair of antennas sprouted form atop her head. She was very proud of her tribe’s smithies and always brought back pieces of chitin and kreen claws for them to make armor and weapons of. Although the weapons were used by all, only the thrikreen slayers were allowed to wear the distinctive armor. They in turn gave her excellently made swords from erdlu bones which she constantly honed and kept razor sharp.

She was the oldest slayer of her tribe and was a lot busier when back in the old hunting grounds. She had not spotted insectmen since they moved to this side of the mountains but still kept her skills as sharp as ever by scouting for her tribe. She was a bit disappointed as she hadn’t made a killing for quite some time now and she missed the smell of fresh kreen ichor in her nostrils. At the same time, she was sad as she thought that her long line of tradition was coming to an end.

She quickly threw her body flat on the ground as the beast flew dangerously close to her head. She recognized the flying creature as one of the pterrax and did not quite know what to make of it. The beast had flown low enough for her to see the leather band on its foot marking it for one of the trained mounts of the pterrans. It was funny how her tribe never tried approaching the pterrans and their villages even after her own reports depicted a civilized society that went peacefully about their business. She guessed it must have been that the tribe had not forgotten their skirmishes with the other lizardmen back when their hunting grounds were on the east side of the Ringing mountains. She was wondering what this beast was doing this far from the villages when an almost inaudible whistle broke the stillness of the night.

Tun’ga peered over the low hill and took the whole scene in at once. It was the kreen that had finally found their prey. The small humanoid was running towards a small outcrop with a long two-pronged lance in his hand. He reached the wall and turned around. He scanned the sky and readied himself to face the onslaught of the kreen. Perhaps it was her lust for the kreen or the valiant look on the pterran that turned to face his enemies and would certainly die in this desolate place. Maybe it was her life long hatred of the insectmen or just a feeling that now would be the best time to finish her job but the truth of the matter is that the elf burst into action. She started a sprint towards the pterran as she reached back and pulled out her two swords.

The kreen were intent on their prey and failed to see Tun’ga running at full sprint as quickly and silently as only the elves can run. They did not make any noise but their antenna moved about in odd formations that the elf understood to be some sort of communication. She did not call out her typical warcry as she wanted to get the benefit of surprise on the insectmen. She would need all the help she could get, four full grown kreen is no easy feat even for someone as experienced as her. Her kreen fang necklace attested to her expertise at disposing of these wild hunters. Perhaps it was how the twin moons faintly shone in this dark night that played tricks on her eyes but there seemed to be something strange to these insectmen and Tun’ga could not quite put her finger on it.

The elf silently reached the further most back kreen in matter of seconds. Tun’ga chopped down with her long sword at the upper shoulder joint and followed up with her short sword into the abdomen. Black ichor sprouted from the vile wounds as the kreen turned around and faced his enemy. He brought up his githka and attacked the elf. His wounded arm got in the way as he thrust the polearm towards the elf. The short sword knocked away the clumsy attack as the bone long sword followed up with a wide circle that connected in the neck joint. The battle lust in her blood and fresh ichor made her nostrils flare and she could no longer hold back a blood-curdling cry. Before the kreen collapsed, she was past it and facing a second kreen.

The pterran was doing his best trying to keep the insect men at bay with his long wooden lance. Luckily for him, his second opponent had deemed the elf a worthier target and had turned around and was approaching his fallen comrade. The kreen screeched and rapidly shot his arm out; a small object whistled through the air and embedded itself in the pterran upper torso. He winced in pain and let out a yell as he saw a crystal chatchka protruding from his hide armor. The force of the blow had knocked him down and all he saw was a large kreen springing towards him as he struggled to get quickly back up. His warrior senses only allowed him to bring his lance up before the kreen was on top of him. The large insect impaled himself onto the lance and the pterran warrior had to brace the lance on the floor to hold it up. The insect screamed his range as his four arms vainly tried to breach the ten foot space left by the long weapon. The pterran warrior painfully turned his lance around and slowly put the kreen against the rock wall. He lustfully twisted his lance as the kreen’s arms stopped their wild flailing and his life ebbed out.

A high pitched scream pierced the night as the pterrax returned to its master calling. The large beast heavily landed on top of the kreen and pinned down the insectman with one huge claw. It raised its huge snout and yelled its anger towards the twin moons. It deliberately pecked at the insect with its huge beak and slowly shredded its exoskeleton. The beast´s maw would come down methodically and it would pull up with a piece of the kreen that it would toss far away with a quick twist of its huge neck muscles. After looking towards its master as if checking his well being, it returned to its kreen rendering practice. The moons glistened of the pterrax muscled body as it slowly munched on a piece of chitin.

Tun’ga was just as surprised as the kreen when the huge beast made its loud landing but she recovered faster. This insectmen was without weapons but far from unarmed. It attacked with its four claws as the elf did her best to keep the insectman’s jaw far from her. She remembered how she missed her chitin armor as two sharp claws raked her lower torso. She struck out twice and chopped off an antenna with her short sword as her long sword struck true to the beast’s side. The pterrax had taken to the air and was about to land in their midst when that barely audible whistle seemed to call it back again. The elf managed to score another full hit to the neck joint as the kreen went in with his head to bite. Unfortunately for the elf, the bite scored and the kreen pulled back a half-severed neck and her jaws dripping green venom. Another sword thrust to the neck ended the fight.

Tun’ga pulled back and quickly examined her wound. She wiped out whatever green saliva was still visible and was thankful for not succumbing to the poison’s paralyzing effect. She guessed that too much chewing of "red root" had somehow lent her a sort of immunity to the insectmen’s poison. She quickly surveyed the battlefield and put her weapons up at the coming pterran warrior. The lizard had recovered his lance and the dreaded pterrax was wobbling close by his master. The warrior raised his hand in a peace gesture but did not drop his sharp lance. The elf lowered her weapons and noticed that this warrior was no more than a young pterran.

The youth spoke in a heavily accented common "I thank you for your help. I am Ptoca Tongue Master, pterran warrior and pterrax rider. You must be from the running elf tribe that has taken up the scrublands?"

The elf merely raised an eyebrow more so towards the pterrax than towards Ptoca and then answered in a haughty tone "You need not thank me, I enjoy doing this and I hope your pet is well trained for I don’t want to stick it with my sword."

The pterran failed to wipe the smirk from his face and started walking back to his makeshift camp. "Come and share my breakfast, I want to hear how you are so adept at fighting these insects." He quickly moved his hand in what seemed odd patterns towards the pterrax. The beast seemed to have nodded and unfolded its huge wings. The pterrax soon took to the skies, circled once and then flew off.

Tun´ga surveyed the sky for a bit and seemed satisfied. She started towards the kreen but then changed her mind as she followed the young warrior. She kept her short sword at arm’s length but was otherwise at ease with the pterran youth. They shared kank honey and salted z’tal meat strips that the youth retrieved from his large saddle bags. They talked for a while as the twin moons faded away from the sky. The elf learned that the youth was on his first solo outing which consisted on staying out alone for a week with his mount. He had to take care of it and, of course, come back alive. This not only proved the youth’s valor but helped to forge the psionic link between pterran and pterrax.

The youth had flown north with three other companions and had then split until it was time to come back to their village. He told the elf that he had spotted large kreen parties of a couple dozen individuals patrolling the northern scrublands. The concentration of these parties increased the further north he flew. He decided to go back and as soon as he could, tell his village elders of this potential threat.

The elf seemed interested in the youth's lively conversation but frowned at the news of large kreen parties as it would surely mean trouble for her tribe. She wanted to know more about Ptoca and asked "Why was your mount not with you when you were attacked?"

"The pterrax are great beasts and smart at that. Their great size makes them formidable in battle but they must eat large amounts of food every day. When they have bonded with us, they can be let loose and they will hunt down their own food. Kina was out feeding when I was attacked" Ptoca answered as he munched a strip of z’tal and slowly poked the dying embers with his stick. He was totally at ease with his new friend.

The crimson sun had finally shown itself in its entire deadly splendor. Tun’ga finished her breakfast and went over to the kreen to check for spoils with the youth trailing her. "Let me show a few tricks of the mantis warriors."

She explained him that these insectmen hunted down and ate sentient being and loved elven meat as much as they had enjoyed the z’tal strips and therefore many tribes trained special elves to defend them from the kreen attack. "You must be careful of their fangs as adult kreens will paralyze you with their poison." She then proceeded to point out their weak points. She went on to explain how she usually worked as a scout and would help steer her tribe away from the kreen hunting packs. She admitted to studying their tactics and to know about them enough to allow her to come out victorious in many fights so far.

The elf was puzzled at the color of these kreen, it was the first time she had come across black kreen. She was thinking how delighted her tribe’s smithies would be when she would give them black chitin to work with. She joyfully went to work stripping the armor from the kreen when she noticed their claws. These kreen had four clawed hands instead of three as was usual for the sandy colored cousins. She quickly finished her gory job as she took deep breaths filling her nostrils with the black ichor fragrance; it would start to rot and the smell would then be unbearable.

"I must part and find my tribe. I do not want them to meet up with the large kreen parties you have described." Tun’ga finished cleaning off the ichor from her swords and pulled her heavy pack over her shoulders. The new black chitin plates were worth the weight.

The youth was sad to see her go; he was enjoying his new found companion. He handed her his bone whistle and explained "Here, take it, blow on it should you need any help from me. I will be around the area scouting out the insect men for the rest of the week." He smiled and added, "Kina seemed to enjoy the kreen. Why don’t you fly south with me as I can speed up your journey."

Tun’ga kindly refused the ride but took the whistle since she did not want to offend the youth. "Thank you and I will keep my promise and come see you at your village." Tun’ga was silently off and Ptoca lost sight of her quickly as those long legs of hers rapidly ate up the ground.

Hunted

The thri-kreen slayer saw them from a distance; it was hard to miss a whole elven tribe on a run. She noticed that the erdlu herd had diminished and assumed that the trade with the merchant house had gone well. The tribe was heading north back to its old grounds from where Tun’ga was coming from. The slayer had deftly dodged one of the hunting parties that the pterran had described. It was these black kreen again but there were other odd colored kreen as well with them. She came close to them, as close as she felt safe in order to study them better. They had the same mannerism as the sand-yellow kreen but these reminded her a lot more of humans. It was hard to pinpoint down for the pack mentality was still there but there was a new sophistication to it. She did not stay long to find out more and left quickly.

Two days later brought the slayer to her own folks. She did not relish in finding her tribe quite so quickly; it meant that they were too close to the kreen. It wasn’t as she did not trust her tribe’s warriors; she had trained some of them herself but her tribe was slowly building itself up again and did not count more than one hundred individuals and not all of them were warriors. She could count on all of them being able to run for they would not be there otherwise. Perhaps it would not be a bad time to somehow approach the pterran villages and seek their support.

She met with the tribe’s leader and told him of the desperate situation. It was decided that she would hang back of the tribe to try and buy them time for their escape. They hoped that the kreen would not chase them too far south. T’poli was willing to approach the pterran villages for support than to risk an encounter with the war party. Tun’ga was to be assisted by two other tribe members, Pikaro and Veroke.

Pikaro was no stranger to her as he had been one of her trainers. He was an accomplished scout and a vicious fighter as his many years and battle wounds attested. He sported a long steel wrist razor on his left arm and walked with an obsidian tipped hand axe at his side. A suit of chitin plate reinforced hide armor complemented his attire; he was one of the few elves who could maintain total silence while wearing this sort of armor.

Veroke was a young elf whom Tun’ga did not know very well. It did not matter as his reputation preceded him. He was the youngest battle dancer of the tribe and he stood out from the rest. All of the other priests worshipped the element of air and Veroke was as wild as the fire he worshipped. His subtle moves were an asset to the party as much as his magic would be. He did not have the skill of being silent while wearing full armor so he discarded his use of it. He wore his obsidian long sword strapped to his back but rumor has it that he invoked fire devils to his bidding in times of battle.

They went together to talk to T’poli of their plan. "We will steer them off and otherwise slow them down enough for you to go the villages" explained Tun´ga as she adjusted her chitin armor. "Aye an’ we’ll kill ‘em as well" added Pikaro. Tun’ga was worried about the overconfidence of the hunter, it might be the downfall of them all. Veroke merely listened and his crazy smile did not leave his face. He looked like someone lost in thought.

"The tribe will run and I hope that the kreen will not follow us down south, I still am not too sure about the lizard villages" stated T’poli. "I wish you good hunting." He looked over towards Pikaro and added "Kill a few them for me as I must lead the tribe on the run, old friend." The elf nodded and everyone exchanged goodbyes. A small pack with supplies was brought to each three of the scouts and then the tribe was of. Pikaro’s small daughter clung to him adamantly and it took his young son’s strong arms to pry her loose. A crowd of young elves surrounded the two offspring as they ran off with the rest of the tribe.

The three companions sat down as soon as the tribe left. Tun’ga explained to them what was necessary and that sleep would be a valued commodity for the next days. Tun’ga added "The tribe has a two day headstart but don’t forget that the mantis warriors do not need sleep and some are as fast as we are". Pikaro snorted and whetted his obsidian hand axe "Save your tales for when you are around the campfire, woman. ‘Tis not the first time me axe has split kreen heads. Just remember who taught ye yer first moves" Veroke listened intently to them and said nothing. Tun’ga smiled at the hunter’s confidence as she remembered his skill and continued "Let us use this night to gather energy, hold my hands and I will call upon the Way for aid."

They all sat close and held hands. The kreen slayer concentrated and was soon filled with radiance. This glow physically traveled down her arms to her companions and soon everyone was glowing. The satisfied faces told of an immensely fulfilling feeling as they dozed off for a couple of hours. After the ordeal, they all felt deeply refreshed and full of energy. Tun’ga spoke again "I have spotted a large party of about 40 mantis a few miles north. We will get close enough for a better view and we will start leading them off to the west. Do not forget that they usually have scouting parties of their own. We don’t need heroes at this time so save your energies for later." The elf looked at both her companions and continued "We will split and then meet back tomorrow at sunset. Let’s try to use our nightvision to our advantage. We will meet along our tribes usual stopping places. Any questions?" Tun’ga gave them a piece of "red root" to chew on and then the elves took off silently; each one wrapped up in his own thoughts. It would still be a few hours until the dark red sun shone again.

It was late the second day when Veroke playfully handled the dying embers. Tun’ga watched him, lost in thought, as he breathed life onto them and revived the fire time and time again. She then spoke to the wild looking elf "He won’t show, something has happened to him. Pikora was cocky but he never missed a rendezvous." Veroke had opened to her this past day and she found out that he was quite centered even if a little obsessed with the flames. He looked up to her and added "The main party is still a day’s away, they have closed the breach but we still have time for another outing. Let’s see if we can find him." He regretted putting out the fire but he quickly was ready for travel. Tun’ga needed no further encouragement and quickly sheathed her newly sharpened sword. "Let’s stay together this time but no more fires for the rest of the night" she chided.

They stopped after a two hour run and finally found Pikora or what was left of him… Tun’ga unconsciously expanded her lungs and filled her nostrils with kreen ichor. The dead kreen about the area spoke of the savage hunter's mighty prowess. She made a vow that her tribe’s bards would tell of this great fight and how it took eight full grown mantis warriors to bring down the elven hunter. After he had killed them and was, no doubt, mortally wounded, he had lain down and waited or death.

"We cannot leave him like this for he will be kreen food when the party catches up to him but he is too heavy to be carried" Tun’ga mumbled. "Let my lords take him, they will be pleased to have his soul. His fire will rage late into the night and his ashes will be scattered about the land" the young battle priest stated proudly. He took out an ember from his hide bag and raised it to the twin moons. He then brought it close to his face and whispered to it. Tun’ga watched mesmerized as he silently placed the now red hot coal on the warrior’s breast. She quickly took his few belongings and scanned the area for other kreen while Veroke finished his job. She took his steel wrist razor and placed it on her left arm and silently promised to bury it deep within kreen abdomens in memory of her tribe’s mate, it would then be given to Pikora’s oldest son. Veroke chanted and danced for a few minutes and then joined the slayer once again. No more words were spoken as they saved their breath for the long run back to their tribe.

They met up with the tribe as it was resting from its hard exertion. They announced themselves to the elven guards and after a few whistles were met by T’poli. Tun’ga told them that the kreen continued down and that an encounter was inevitable. They quickly made a plan and Tun’ga remained behind for the onslaught with a few more warriors. T’poli made it clear that he could spare no more than 20 warriors for he would need to protect the tribe in case Tun’ga was unsuccessful. There wasn’t any need to specify what that meant as death was very close to the elven way of life.

She was not surprised to find out that Pikora’s son, Martilo, was among the new party members. The boy was young and had not seen any real battle. On the other hand, he looked strong and his lack of experience would be offset by his look of grim determination. He was about to get his first taste of fighting in many more to come, it was the elven way. Perhaps, if he proved to be smart as well, Tun’ga could start tutoring him in the ways of the kreen. Martilo sported hide armor which was decorated with black marking. Like all elven boys, he was already accomplished with the long sword and long bow. She would teach him how to use his father’s wrist razor to disembowel kreens.

The tribe left again but would stay close by, Tun’ga had chosen this very same spot for their stance. She estimated that the kreen would reach here tomorrow near high sun hour. She went off into the night as the elves patrolled the area in small groups of threes for the very last time. She went by herself and in a large clearing took out her gift and blew on the long whistle and she waited… A few hours later brought a familiar sight to her keen nightvision as the large lizard descended.

Tun’ga still felt uneasy around the pterrax and apparently the beast sensed it as well. The pterran dismounted and approached her. His eyes betrayed his content at having been called to service her friend. Perhaps he would get a chance to repay his debt. Tun’ga told Ptoca of her plans and asked for his aid. She wanted the kreen to be surprised and keep her casualties to a minimum, she wanted the flying mounts to attack swiftly and fiercely. She counted on her new found allies to turn the battle tide over to her side. She only had twenty warriors and not all experienced against 40 vicious mantis warriors. Ptoca pledged his support and was off into the night again, he had a lot of flying to do before the coming battle. The pterrax unfolded its giant wings and pushed off its feet into the air, the air currents caught the beast and lifted it closer to the twin moons. Tun'ga finished her round and went back to camp, there were still a few details to be worked out and perhaps Veroke was the best suited to help.

The elves gathered at sunrise and went over their course of action again; the kreen would be coming form the north sometime before high sun. Veroke would go and greet them; he would lead them into the ambush.

The air was stifling hot as Veroke went out to meet the mantis warriors while the rest of the elves laid down flat in the tall grasses. Each of the elves’ mouths was stained red from chewing on "red grass roots", their faces showing a myriad of emotions from anxiety to fear to killing lust. Tun’ga only showed concern for most of these elves have never fought kreen before and they were about to meet their worst nightmares.

Every sight was focused towards the north and the young elves were getting restless. Their vision was blurred due to the intense heat of midday and they almost did not recognize the runner as he came into their field of vision. Veroke passed the waiting elves and they could see that he was being trailed by many insectmen.

It was near high sun when the two front kreen broke off the pack as Veroke slowed down and turned to meet them. The wild-looking elf calmly waited for them and raised his hands to the skies as they closed on him. A sharp crack in the sky was heard and a great gulf of flames enveloped Veroke and the two kreens. The stink of burned chitin was unbearable and the only sound that could be heard above the crackling of the flames was the mad laughing of the elven priest. Everything seemed to stop for a few moments but soon the kreen resumed their chattering and stepped toward the flaming spectacle. It was then that Veroke stepped forth apparently unharmed and looking elated as he witnessed his handiwork.

The elves picked up their bows almost in unison and in the same motion released their arrows. The first volley of arrows fell upon the kreen and was quickly followed by another. These were the elves, the best archers in the tablelands that were shooting their bows. Although caught by surprise, the kreen reacted rapidly; they deftly dodged most of the missiles shot at them and were momentarily waiting to attack. Any arrow that was not totally deflected skirted harmlessly from the hard exoskeleton of the insects. Only two of the bone tipped arrows had found their marks and had embedded themselves in the soft underside of the mantis warriors.

The short lived victory of Veroke was followed by confusion in the elven ranks as they saw that one of their best offensive weapons caused very little damage in their enemies. Their cover was blown and their worst enemies, the giant insects that relished on their flesh, outnumbered them two to one. Tun’ga recognized their hesitance and called them forth to battle "Join in battle, to kill the vermin, you must smell their foul breath and touch their thorny skin." Tun’ga called upon the way to fill herself with surplus strength and stamina as she rushed into battle; twenty blood hungry elves followed her closely and twenty voices filled the scrublands with their blood-curdling battle cries.

A great shadow fell across the ground and the elven cries were joined by a cacophony of screeches. Everyone squinted up towards the sky just in time to see four great flying beasts hover close by. The elven rush continued but not before two of the beasts broke formation and dove straight at the kreen pack. The air was filled with excitement and the pterrax got close; close enough to pick off two mantis warriors. Tun´ga recognized Ptoca and his mount just as the pterran’s lance literally picked up a kreen on his first pass. With the lance firmly placed in its holster in the harness on the pterrax, he was able to carry the unfortunate kreen on his two pronged wooden lance. Another pterran followed and was able to do the same to another kreen. The hit however was not as true as Ptoca’s so the pterrax had to peck at the flailing kreen in midair. A few mighty beats of large leathery wings and the beasts gained enough altitude to be lifted by the hot midday air current. As if the diving hit with the lances was not enough to kill them, both kreens were quickly dropped from the air as soon as the flying mounts reached their apex and prepared for another pass.

The elves closed the distance and converged on the kreen pack before any other action took place. The sound of crunching bone and cracking chitin screamed at the land as the strong smell of blood and ichor assaulted the senses. The kreen slayer finishes her first opponent with a rendering swipe of her steel wrist razor; her surprised kreen tried in vain to hold in his entrails with his four hands. Her vision was then filled by the sight of a young elf being shredded to pieces by two large kreens. She feared the worst for Martilo but soon spotted him holding his own a few feet from her just as a second insectman was closing in on the young elf.

The two other pterrax bellowed their anger as their respective riders called them back from their practiced dive. The battle was too densely joined for them to pick off their targets so they hovered close and ordered their mounts to attack as they discarded their lances and pulled out their stone head flails. They closed in to attack and were surprised as the kreen used a tactic not known to them…it was their undoing. Before anyone knew any better, the first pterrax to close in was boarded by four jumping kreens. The mantis warriors quickly maimed the creature and brought it down were they finished it off along with its rider.

The second pterran rider pulled hard on the reins of his mount to cut off its dive. The beast screamed its pain as blood trickled down its neck as the bone bit dug into the side of his beak. The pterrax beat its mighty wings and pulled up from the ground. Two kreen jumped up to intercept it and only one came back down; the other could be seen clinging onto the harness as the beast flew towards the crimson sun.

The fighting continued on for a few minutes and it slowly dwindled down as many combatants permanently left the field. Veroke reviewed the sight and was pleased to see that many elves had killed off their first attacker and were working on their second. He could see that the two pterrax riders were flailing away at the kreen while their mounts used their beaks to finish them off.

Martilo fended off the clawed attack from the hurt kreen with his feline hand; his hand sported a claw not unlike the ones from the mountain lion the tribe had sometimes defended their erdlu herd from. He followed in with an overhead swing that literally split the insectman’s head in two. His bone sword was stuck in the chitin and the young elf proceeded to unlodge it by twisting the blade free. The bone blade broke in a shower of splinters with a loud sharp crack. The event did not go unnoticed by the approaching kreen who livened up his step when he saw the unarmed elf. Martilo threw the broken blade at the kreen and prepared to sell his life dearly by putting forth his clawed limb. Tun’ga surprised the mantis warrior by piercing its back with his long sword; the kreen screamed its agony and stopped cold in its track trying to turn around. Tun’ga ducked in low as the gythka swung over her head in a wide circle and followed by burying the steel wrist razors deep in its abdomen. She lustfully twisted her hand as the life ebbed out of the mantis warrior.

The wind had died down and silence reined supreme but the crimson sun still beat mercilessly on the survivors. There were seven elves left standing and two pterrax with riders; the carnage was appalling. The noise came in all at once; long wailing cries from an approaching pterrax and the desperate scream of a wounded elf. Veroke walked towards the wounded warrior and quickly made a decision. The warrior’s entrails had been spilled by kreen claws and the bloodied sands were proof of the horrible wound. Veroke quickly ran the warrior through and ended his misery. He then sat down next to his kin to mourn his loss.

The pterrax finally landed with his rider still tied down to his saddle. The beast slowly wobbled over to the other pterraxes with its rider slumped over its side. The pterrax continuously wailed its lament as Ptoca untied the dead pterran rider from its saddle. It had been a terrible loss for them as well and one that would not go unheeded. The pterrans had learned the hard way what the insectmen were capable of doing and would be better prepared for future fights. Their jumping ability had taken them for surprise but Ptoca would get back and instruct the elder riders as to the coming threat and how best to cope with it.

It was early afternoon as the crimson began its slow descent. New painful scream filled the air and Veroke was the cause of them this time. An elf was being held down two of his tribe's mates and he squirmed and wriggled in pain. The strong elves did not let go of their wounded comrade and he continued to scream as Veroke held a live flame close to his chest. The elf’s wound miraculously started to close and heal but the strong burn scar across his chest seemed to have marked him for the rest of his life. Tun’ga and Martilo continued to walk over the dead kreen in a slow and deliberate way. The female slayer had found an attentive and interested student as she carefully showed him the kreen’s weak spots and where their tough exoskeleton was most vulnerable. The younger elf seemed content to try out his new knowledge with his newly acquired steel razors.

The afternoon was slowly turning into evening and a refreshing cool breeze had come into being. Ptoca finished tying down his dead comrades across the saddle of the riderless pterrax. Tun’ga and Martilo joined the rest of the surviving elves as the elven runner brought back the tribe with T’poli at the head. Ptoca broke the silence "I will get back to my village and pave the way for your coming. I suggest you leave this place as quickly as possible and travel south towards my home." The huge flapping of the pterrax brought them all out of their lethargy. The pterran rider quickly dismounted and approached Ptoca. Guttural words were exchanged between both lizards as the scout vigorously pointed north. He talked in hurried and excited tones and moved his hands up and down as he conveyed his message.

Ptoca turned to his eager elven crowd and faced them as the scout already had turned around and gone back to his mount. "There are more hunting parties in the north and some are larger than this one, they are close and should reach this pot by the time Guthay ends his night round. You will have to flee again, you have no warriors to make a stance."

T'poli was perplexed at the news the lizard had just given. He called his remaining tribe's warriors together and prepared himself to lead the run again. "More elf eaters are on their way, but we will try to loose them this time. We are not enough to make a stance again; the tribe will run. The tribe's kreen slayers will stay behind again to try and divert the mantis warriors." Tun'ga was aghast with the news but Martilo seemed to welcome the opportunity to prove himself again.

Short Story by Fabian Benavente,