Chapter 13: Portrait Of Sound

           Bastian awoke, pain streaming through his body. He was still as alert as he had been the fateful night that they were captured. He closed his eyes and listened. He could feel every movement; every sound played out to Bastian like a portrait that he was painting. The elves were preparing to leave, Bastian felt a sickly sensation arise in his stomach. They knew about Yelya. He was shackled to the center post and had been unsuccessful at loosening the chains. Looking around the tent for any means of escape, Bastian discovered that the center post that he was chained to was barely beneath the surface of ground. He grabbed his wrists and tried to pull the post high enough to slip his hands and the chains underneath it. It did not budge. Bastian continued to try to lift the pole, but alas nothing. Azar came into the tent.

“We will be moving soon, and you won’t be coming with us” Azar sneered. The elf drew a long sword from a sheath on his belt.

“I’ll make it quick, I think I owe you that much” he laughed.

Bastian stood, completely concentrated, awaiting the oncoming blow. As the sword came slicing through the air at his neck Bastian leapt in the air bracing against the post; he made contact with the elf’s hand, knocking the sword to the ground. With that, Bastian landed a clean right kick to Azar’s head rendering him unconscious. Bastian reached for the sword with his leg, hooking his foot around the handle. He then cut grooves in the wood to provide a better grip, the great young man heaved. The pole loosened. Bastian jarred the pole up by slipping his foot underneath it. He then managed to slip the chains under the pole that had held him captive. 

There on the unconscious elf, fastened to the thin leather belt, hung a shiv. Bastian knelt down and took it for himself, first using it to pick the lock on the chains to free his hands.  He could hear another elf approach the tent, Bastian took the appropriate steps taking cover against the side of the tent near the entrance. Listening carefully he could hear the approaching elf doing so in caution, Bastian waited. The elf entered the tent, he looked down at Azar who lay there out cold on the ground. Just steps in the tent Bastian slipped out of the shadows and took the elf from behind choking him. Dragging the struggling elf back in the shadow, Bastian raised his shiv and in one slick movement stabbed it into the struggling elf’s neck. Forever cutting off air supply. With the elf falling limp, Bastian let go, proceeding to harvest the elf’s attire for anything of use. With only his shiv, and a marked up map, Bastian left the tent.  

Through camp, it was quiet. An ominous picture still painted in the sky, Bastian feared yet another storm was in store. Rescuing the others would have to be a quick job, not just to escape but to beat the storm. Scouting the camp he watched the few elves on duty move in and out of tents. Noting the tents that were particularly avoided and which had a close eye on them, quickly gave him the impression of which tent held his sister. Working only in the shadows, sneaking past the scouts, he maneuvered his way to the tent under the watchful eye of three. Bastian once again closed his eyes, tuning into his perfectly precise senses. The three elves were out side the door, two of them talking. 

Bastian could picture a long and sturdy branch hanging over the entrance of the tent of interest. Slowly and stealthily Bastian moved behind the tent, he was invisible to the elves they were completely unaware of the young man. He reached the base of the great pine tree that over looked most of the camp. In several quick leaps Bastian had scaled the tree and was kneeling on the branch that was overhanging the three elves. He moved along it quickly and jumped forming an arrow as he fell to his opponents. He landed on the middle elf doing a shoulder roll as he made contact. He then used the momentum from hitting the ground to leap up drawing the long sword as he did and slicing the far elf’s throat. Blood gushed from the defeated enemy as he tried to call out for help. The last elf drew his sword, and the two warriors fought. It only lasted a few moments however as Bastian finished him off by stabbing the elf clean through his body, the sword protruding from the other side of the elf’s back. Bastian could hear the sound of other elves rushing to his location. He ran into the tent cutting the two women free and cutting through the animal skin at the back of the hut. They ran, Taya and J’vonte’ doing their best to keep up with the man who had freed them. 

Bastian sprinted deep in the woods, making sure the girls were close behind him. They jumped down onto lower ground to shield themselves from anybody that had been able to keep up. The storm had left any lower areas flooded, leaving the trio shin deep in water. 

“J’vonte’, Taya, are you two okay?” Bastian said hardly winded and clearly focused on escape and triumph.  The girls looked back, J’vonte’s face beaming with happiness to see her brother very alive. Taya looked at both of them knowing she was the one who endangered Yelya, and now her reason for doing it was shattered. Bastian read their faces and pressed the conversation forward, they didn’t have much time.“I want you two to head back to Yelya. I’m going to round back, and hunt them.” Bastian looked at Taya, resting his hand on her shoulder, “You did what you thought you had to, and thank you.” With that, he nodded to his sister and took off. 

The girls began to take off as well, of course much slower than Bastian, for they were submerged in water. Treading slowly through the large puddles, trying to stay in the shadows the two heard a sound. A sound that drew J’vonte’s signature smile upon Taya’s face. Picking up the pace as much as they could they came to a large, half unrooted tree. Standing just in front of it was Zenith, head already bowing and wings ready to take to the air. The warriors jumped upon his back and took to the sky, still ready to unleash at any moment. 

Bastian made his way back to the elves’ encampment being sure to stay clear of the path he had fled by. When he reached the spot where he had been captured, it was empty, not a sign that anyone had spent more than a few minutes in the clearing. Bastian looked around for a clue, anything that would lead him to his adversaries. He felt a presence, one that he had not felt in several weeks. Bastian closed his eyes and whispered.
“Deimos.” A loud purring sound came from behind him, and a large saber tooth tiger leaped from a branch, the same branch that Bastian had leapt from not to long ago. The great cat bowed his head in front of his master. 

“Tonight we ride” Bastian said softly to his companion. Deimos’ ears perked up when Bastian said this; the great cat had not seen action since the Phoenix War, and was hungry for a fight. Bastian mounted Deimos and the two warriors disappeared into the trees, tracking the enemy that hunted their village. 

The two friends rode through the night stopping only when they were unsure of the trail of the elves. Bastian found tracking them to be extremely difficult, as they would at times abandon the ground and climb through some of the larger trees in order to throw one such as Bastian off their trail. After tracking the elves for a day and a night they found themselves swimming in water. The area was familiar to Bastian and the cold sickening feeling he had felt earlier once again greeted him. He was approaching Yelya, and he knew that the elves had been there, but Bastian could not tell if the elves had located the people of Yelya yet. 

The walls of the village peeked up just above the water, villagers possessions floating in the now calm lake. As Deimos and Bastian swam into the underwater village, Bastian spotted an old leather journal floating on the top, like a cool mist floats above a green pasture. Bastian scooped it up, unaware of whom it belonged to. They continued to swim to higher ground, as that is where Mythra would have taken the tribe. Once they were on solid ground again, Bastian mounted Deimos’ back and they rode up the side of the mountain. The fear of what lay ahead of them growing inside Bastian’s heart.