Blood Ties

Roused from an uneasy sleep by a tentative hand shaking her leg, Morwyn looked up and groaned softly. She blinked away the haze of the deep, dreamless sleep she'd been in, the kind that only came after being pushed to the brink of exhaustion. Yvonne, who had crept quietly into the back of the wagon to rouse her, shuffled back toward the rear and gave her a silent nod before disappearing between the rear flaps and into the ever-present rain.

Morwyn hadn't planned to spend her first night with Hazel in her arms in the back of a damp, cramped wagon, squeezed between chests of herbs and potions while the halfling shuddered from the cold. It wasn't exactly the romantic moment she'd tentatively allowed herself to hope for, yet still she found it difficult to separate herself from the warmth of Hazel's back pressed against her chest. Duty called, and she would answer.

There was no easy way to disentangle herself from their cramped position, so Morwyn merely whispered an apology when Hazel grumbled at the disturbance from her movement. She'd slept in her spare clothing so she only had to bumble around in the dark to slip into her chain-mail, tunic, and boots. The pervasive damp in everything she wore left her in a foul mood and drove away the brief reprieve from discomfort that sleep had given her.

With a quick glance in either direction to ensure Hazel had settled back down to sleep and that Yvonne wasn't watching, she took a measured swig from her flask. The whiskey burned pleasantly and helped to drive the stiffness from her limbs. Rising to a crouch to clasp her cloak about her neck, Morwyn eased herself outside then retrieved her weapons. There was no sense trying to strap them all on within the confines of the wagon. Yvonne, looking about as happy as a wet rat, stood nearby and beckoned her to follow. Morwyn obliged, noticing the clear absence of any giants around. She felt bad that she'd been too tired to say her goodbyes as they parted ways.

“All quiet?” Morwyn asked under her breath after they made it beneath the slanted stone roof and shook the rain from their cloaks. Yvonne didn't respond for a long moment. She merely stared out into the darkness, her eyes scanning the slopes that rose above them to the north and south. Morwyn could barely make out anything in the darkness but followed the other woman's gaze out of habit, wishing not for the first time that she could see in the dark as the elves could. After some time Yvonne turned to face Morwyn, anxiety evident in her expression.

“Rennock still hasn't returned,” she murmured as she wiped a drip of water from her nose. “Other than that, nothing out of the ordinary except for the storm. I got restless and made a few circuits of the camp but, predictably, I found nothing and got soaked for my efforts. I've got a bad feeling about this place. Maybe it's just the rain that's got my nerves on edge...”

“Never dismiss your intuition,” Morwyn said as she lifted her sword from its scabbard a few inches to make sure the generous coating of oil she'd lathered on the blade had kept rust at bay. “Better to be wrong every time than to ignore it and suffer. Was Ren meant to return by a certain watch?”

Yvonne shook her head, casting droplets of water to either side.

“Not that I know of. Eronir just told me to keep an eye out for his return.” Yvonne's eyes drifted to one of the cots set up in the back corner of the shelter. Morwyn could just make out Eronir's spear leaned against one of the walls as a dark form slept soundly beside it. Argoth slept nearby, his bulk and grumbling breaths unmistakable even in the gloom. Trux had to have found somewhere else to rest as she didn't appear to be present.

Yvonne bit her lip and let out an anxious sigh. Morwyn sensed that she had more to say but was nervous to voice what was troubling her.

“Something else on your mind?”

Yvonne looked conflicted but eventually spoke again, her voice so quiet that Morwyn could barely make it out over the percussion of the rainstorm.

“We scouted the pass before the storm hit in full. I'm no soldier, but as I've said before, I am a practiced hunter. This place... It feels like a funnel. The kind of terrain I'd look for when pursuing prey, knowing they'd have no choice but to cross in front of me. Not on top of a mountain of course, more like a river crossing or an intersection of game trails in a thick forest. Does that make sense?”

Morwyn nodded slowly and frowned as she strained her eyes to scan the darkness. Her eyes drifted to the miserable oxen huddled in groups on the leeward sides of several wagons and she felt a pang of sympathy for the poor beasts.

“It's normal to get nervous in confining terrain. I'm not exactly comfortable with it myself, but it doesn't seem we have much choice in the matter,” she said as she flicked water from her bow and walked to the back corners of the shelter, peering through the voids where the crude walls came together. “Which side would you say has the steeper slope, the north peak or the south peak?”

“The south,” Yvonne answered without hesitation. “It's nearly a cliff for some ways up, while the north slope is still steep but much more gradual. Why?”

Morwyn returned to the open face of the shelter and poked her head out, peering to her left. She thought she could just make out the rock face to the south, though it was indistinct in the darkness and heavy rainfall. She stepped back beneath the shelter and tried to give Yvonne a reassuring smile. From the way the elf's brows narrowed, it didn't seem to be effective.

“Any mountain beast that might be crazy enough to attack us in this storm would likely come from the north or the east. I doubt anything would come from the west either since our giant friends passed that way. Helps to know where to focus my attention, though I'll still keep my eyes on all sides.” Morwyn cracked her neck in both directions, leaned her bow against the shelter wall on a high point above the water that pooled on the ground, and began to stretch her limbs. “Go now, get some rest. I've got the watch.”

Yvonne ran a thumb along the upper limb of her longbow with a frown but didn't move. She stared at the ground for several seconds then cleared her throat softly and looked back up.

“I would prefer to stay on watch too, if that's alright. I don't need as much sleep as you humans, and honestly I don't think I could even if I tried. Nerves, as I said.”

Morwyn stifled the reflexive twinge in her gut at the offhand mention of her humanity and gave the elf an appraising look. She was thoroughly soaked and clearly uncomfortable despite standing tall.

“You should try anyway,” Morwyn said reluctantly as she rolled her shoulders. “It's not likely to be any easier going forward. Even if you can't sleep, you should rest and recover your strength.”

“I may be a novice to this profession but I'm no frail child,” Yvonne retorted, her tone suddenly sharp. “I've traveled half the continent with this caravan, long before you joined us at the tail end. You may have more experience than me, but I'm not weak. I can handle it.”

Morwyn's brows shot up in surprise and she froze mid-stretch. She slowly lowered her arms and rested her left hand on the pommel of her sword out of habit. She hadn't expected such a heated response.

“I meant no offense,” she said, embarrassed at having underestimated the elf. “If you're certain, I would be glad for the company.”

It suddenly occurred to her that that, despite her closeness with her fellow guards and more recently with Hazel, she knew precious little of the rest of the caravan beyond the surface. She'd unconsciously held them at a distance as something precious, something to protect and preserve without considering their individual strength and courage. Now she wondered just what Yvonne and her sister had given up to join the caravan, what life they'd abandoned for the promise of a dangerous new start.

Yvonne nodded firmly and held Morwyn's gaze for a moment, then her hard expression softened slightly.

“Thank you. I apologize for snapping, you didn't deserve that. You've done so much for us since you joined. It doesn't matter how long you've been with us. I suppose it just makes me feel like... Like I could've done something sooner.”

An awkward silence fell between them for a time, which was interrupted by a sudden flash of thunder that briefly illuminated the camp. Several seconds later the following thunderclap boomed through the pass, causing Morwyn and Yvonne to flinch as one. Eronir grumbled in his sleep and rolled over on his cot while Argoth appeared undisturbed by the sudden light and noise. Morwyn looked to her unexpected watch companion and gave her a rueful smile.

“Alright then, new blood,” she said, poorly mimicking Argoth's voice which drew a chuckle from Yvonne. “Let's get out there and do a sweep. I'll need your help since I can't see for shit in these conditions anyway. Show me what we're working with.”

They spent the next several hours taking short excursions to patrol their surroundings. Though Morwyn found herself struggling to maintain any awareness of the passage of time, Yvonne explained that she could just make out the position of the moon by the weak light that passed through the roiling clouds overhead. Unable to see it herself, Morwyn took her word for it and tried to focus on keeping alert through the most wretched watch she remembered ever taking.

Each trip out of the shelter yielded nothing more than to fatigue them and increase their discomfort. Morwyn was quite used to long, lonely hours spent keeping watch in the middle of the night and even enjoyed the solitude now and again, but having someone else to share in the current misery made it easier for Morwyn to deal with.

Through casual conversation meant to keep them awake more than anything, Yvonne volunteered that she and Gildara had joined Rennock's band to escape a life of poverty. Evidently, many young elves pursued adventure and fortune outside of their secretive forest enclaves since homogeneous elven societies often lacked opportunity to rise beyond one's means unless an individual possessed immense patience. Some elves waited for hundreds of years for a favorable position to open due to death or long-awaited retirement. The concept made Morwyn shudder. She couldn't imagine being an apprentice for ten years, let alone a century or more, waiting for the chance to follow her dreams.

Not that her own pursuits had brought her much satisfaction. Now that she was starting to get the barest hints toward the answers she sought, it was becoming increasingly clear that the truth of her ancestry would bring more pain than it would closure. Those thoughts she kept to herself as she allowed Yvonne to lead their conversation, only giving vague answers in return when the questions turned personal. The elf seemed to understand, having been rather sparse with details herself.

Though it had been irregular during their watch, the lightning began to pick up in frequency during their last planned patrol before handing the watch off to Argoth. The rain showed no sign of letting up and with the lightning drawing ever closer Morwyn worried that it might soon threaten the wagons.

“I always figured if I were to drown it would be at sea, not with two feet on the ground,” she grumbled as they entered the circle of wagons once more. “I hope Rennock finds that mage and blows their head off with a ball of fire.”

She expected her companion to laugh at her complaint but was startled when Yvonne stopped dead in her tracks and squinted into the darkness before pressing herself against the side of the nearest wagon. Morwyn moved quickly to stand beside her, the hair on the back of her neck standing up at the elf's sudden change of posture.

“I saw movement,” she whispered, her hand nervously rising toward her quiver as she peered around the frame of the wagon. “On the north slope, almost directly above Gildur's wagon. Do you see?”

Morwyn inched her way out from behind their cover and squinted in the direction that Yvonne indicated.

“I can barely see the shelter, nothing beyond it. Can you make out any details?”

“I only caught a glimpse and now I've lost sight of it myself. Last I saw it was maybe a hundred yards up the slope. It was mostly obscured by a rock outcropping.”

“Could it be Rennock finally returning?”

“No.”

Yvonne's clipped response sent a chill down Morwyn's spine. Her pulse began to rise as adrenaline surged through her body unbidden. She drew an arrow and flicked the water from its fletching before setting it to her bowstring, trying in vain to make out anything in the oppressive darkness. She leaned in close beside Yvonne's hood and whispered instructions as the elf also nocked a shaft.

“I'm going to move forward. If there is something out there watching us, maybe that'll draw its attention. Stay here and keep an eye on the slope. If you see movement again, any movement, raise all hells and get everyone to the shelter. I'll rally the other guards. Understood?”

Yvonne swallowed hard but her eyes never left the slope.

“What if it's a false alarm, the night playing tricks with my eyes or something?”

“Then people will be wet and grumpy with you. That's the least of our worries at the moment. Are you ready?”

The elf nodded and put slight tension on her bowstring, her hands steady despite the worry that was thick in her voice. Morwyn took a few deep breaths to focus herself then stepped out from behind the wagon, slightly hunched over against the rain as she had been while on patrol, her bow held low in her left hand rather than raised warily. She kept up the same dogged, tired gait as before despite her weariness having been burned away by the possibility of a threat.

Her sense of foreboding grew with every step, fearing with every splash of her boot in a stream or puddle that she'd hear a shout from Yvonne. Tense seconds passed as she moved at a measured pace toward the shelter, her discomfort long forgotten. Her muscles were tense from anticipation.

Her heart skipped a beat and she froze as she heard a sharp intake of breath behind her, followed by the heavy thrum of Yvonne's longbow loosing an arrow. Two seconds later she heard a meaty smack from up the slope, followed by a gurgling, strangled cry and the sound of metal clanging against stone as something crashed down the mountain and came to a crunching halt between the two wagons on the north side.

Lightning struck near enough to the camp for the sudden jolt of the thunderclap to daze Morwyn, but it also served to briefly illuminate the crumpled figure on the ground not ten yards from her with the broken shaft of an arrow in its neck. Despite the jagged, rusty iron helm and armor and gave it the appearance of some crude metallic insect, the creature was unmistakable in form. She looked back to Yvonne with wide eyes and shouted as loud as she could.

“GOBLINS!”

Morwyn turned on her heel and sprinted for the opening of the shelter as Yvonne echoed her shout to rouse the caravan. She nearly made it to the entrance when crude black arrows began to rain down upon them from the south, catching her off guard. Several shattered on the ground all around her, but one found its mark and pierced through her mail and deep into the flesh of her right shoulder. She stumbled and fell halfway into the shelter, tossing her bow to the side to protect it from her weight as she crashed to the ground with a grunt of pain. More arrows shattered against the stone wall as she kicked and crawled her way behind cover.

“Argoth, wake up! We're under attack! Goblins!”

The orc was already on his feet and rushing out past her, his black blade glowing with malevolent green light as he sprinted into the rain without a word.