An arrow.
Where there was one arrow, there would certainly be more. A skilled archer could let quite a few arrows loose.
A skilled archer wouldn't attack a group of three people, no matter how distracted they were, without allies to back them up.
Pendaer moved first. Once they had left Dorssur, he had insisted on keeping his bow and quiver on him at all times and finally it came in handy. He had his bow in his hands in an instant and getting an arrow into position didn't take much longer than that. His eyes narrowed as he searched for the assailant up above the waterfall, where the arrow had come from, but nothing moved in the tall grass.
Heart racing, Tracou held his wand in one hand and grabbed Mirthal's wrist in the other, tugging his arm downward to get him to crouch beside him. He should erect a barrier, but that area of magic was Tracou's weakest. Many dezmek could create and hold a single wall or even a dome of magic that could deflect anything thrown its way, but Tracou struggled. A wall would take all of his focus and what if someone came up behind them? Worthless.
As Pendaer searched for the archer at the top of the cliff, a man appeared, having hidden behind their wagon, and charged at Pendaer. Tracou shouted Pendaer's name and raised his wand to render the attacker immobile. But Pendaer darted away from the man even before Tracou's magic had any effect on him. An arrow whizzed through the spot Pendaer had occupied. The man level with them toppled to the ground as Pendaer took aim at the cliff and shot an arrow. It flew into a tree with a thunk Tracou couldn't hear.
More men appeared, totaling four but there could be more hidden. There could always be more. The number seemed small, even considering the fact that there were only three people they were attacking. They were all humans wearing the same kind of armor Tracou had seen in Dorssur. They had swords at their hips, too. Normally, Tracou would have assumed that this attack would have been orchestrated by bandits, but if these were bandits they were bandits employed by the King of Winlea... or, rather, Yash. Perhaps, unlike the citizens at the gate of Dorssur, they felt that they didn't need numbers because their targets were two elves and a dezmek, only one of which even carried a weapon. Magic, inexplicably, must not have frightened them.
These men were oddly young. The armor they wore fit poorly. If the Yash had wanted results, he should have sent at least one man with some experience fighting. Then again, even with their escape, maybe Yash wanted to toy with them.
Almost on reflex, Tracou immobilized every human he could see. This magic came much easier to him than barriers did and he could hold a great deal of people at one time had he wanted. Tracou had effectively neutered the threat on the ground, but the archer above still roamed free.
Pendaer shot arrow after arrow up at the hidden archer. It didn't seem like he hit anything to Tracou. Soon, he stopped, jaw still clenched.
"Did you get him?!"
"No! He... He must have fled!"
Skeptical, Tracou looked up at the cliff, but he couldn't see anyone either.
Beside him, Mirthal placed a hand over the one Tracou still had wrapped around his wrist. Unbeknownst to Tracou, he had been gripping his wrist as though he was trying to choke it to death. Of course, coming from a dezmek, it hadn't quite been a death grip. Tracou pulled his hand away with a grimace.
Mirthal stared at the ground, his normally jovial face devoid of any discernible emotion. For a time, he stared down at his hands. He mumbled something, but Tracou couldn't understand it.
As though Mirthal had forgotten all about the archer still at large, he approached one of the paralyzed bodies of the attackers.
"Mirthal! What are you doing?!" Tracou called, voice climbing higher with each word.
But the elf ignored him. He knelt down next to one of the soldiers and took the sword at his hip. Slowly, he stood back up again, holding the sword carefully. The sword was double edged with a blunt tip that flared wider than the blade's base. The edges near the base of the sword were serrated. The sight of those jagged edges made Tracou shudder. Dezmek didn't use swords or weapons of any kind for two reasons: their lack of physical strength and they could use magic instead. Seeing an object that was so obviously made to hack things apart sickened him.
"Pendaer," Mirthal began, sounding as subdued as one could while shouting, "I want you to teach me how to use a sword."
"Your highness!" Pendaer was taken aback, his tone absolutely mortified. "You know I can't do that! The queen—!"
"You're going to do it. I know the queen forbade it, but we aren't in the Elven Kingdom anymore!" Mirthal's face twisted in hatred. "I've had enough of cowering when faced with humans!"
Oddly, Pendaer went quiet at this. He didn't move for several moments, but, eventually, he approached a man on the ground and took his sword and even the sheath.
This satisfied Mirthal. With Pendaer's compliance secured, he examined the sword in his hands.
The idea of Mirthal using a sword didn't make much sense to Tracou. He hadn't stood a chance at arm wrestling a human, so why did he think he could best one in armed combat? At least with a bow he would be far away.
Pendaer, who had given up on the archer up above entirely, started to approach Mirthal. After a few paces he hesitated and then moved over to Tracou instead.
"They look like the men guarding that castle," Pendaer shouted, averting his gaze from Tracou.
This was not normal, but Tracou was shaken enough to ignore that for now.
"Do you think they were following us?"
"Maybe from a distance. We would have heard them, otherwise! The only reason they were able to surprise us is because of this infernal waterfall!"
Tracou nodded. The idea that people had been following them made his skin feel even more clammy than the water vapor did.
"What should we do with them?" Mirthal called as he trotted towards them. "I don't want this to happen again!"
Elves did not kill people as a general rule, but if they let these men go they might attack them again. They might even follow them into Dezmer which Tracou could not allow. But tying them up would lead to them likely starving to death, as would breaking their legs. Even blinding them might do the same thing.
If Tracou had his say, he would want them totally incapacitated, whether that was by blinding them, tying them up, or something else didn't matter. For the elves, they refused anything that might lead to the men's deaths. Pendaer could accept at least restraining these men before leaving, but Mirthal kept insisting that there had to be a way around doing something like that.
As they argued, the air around them began to smell off. Tracou turned his face toward the cliff again. A cloud of gray dust was spreading from that cliff and descending down on them, carried by a leisurely, but persistent, wind. It almost looked like ash, but Tracou couldn't smell any fire.
In no time at all, Tracou felt his eyes burning. He winced, shutting them, and held up his wand to disperse to cloud.
But nothing happened.
Tracou tried again, highly aware of how much magic he was channeling. The moment the magic left the wand, it vanished into the cloud.
"What is this?!" Pendaer growled. He opened his mouth to say more but ended up hacking instead.
None of that mattered to Tracou. He shook, desperately trying to force magic out of his wand. Even back in the dungeon, Tracou had at least felt his magic leave the wand, but not now. Now his magic was consumed instantly. The same had happened to the magic he had been holding to restrain those humans. They likely could already move, but were waiting for the right moment to strike.
His limbs felt heavy and cold. Heat pooled in his torso, where not only his heart but most of his other organs writhed around inside him.
Not only could he not use magic, but he couldn't even walk.
He let out an agonized cry, making both elves jump and face him.
"It's just like the dungeon! I can't use magic!"
For a moment, no one moved. Then, in an instant, the four humans that had been on the ground leapt up. Two of them had been disarmed, but that left two with swords of their own.
With his wand now useless, Tracou tucked it into his sleeve and grabbed the stone knife he kept in his belt. Weeks after having received it from the Zeibr, Tracou still didn't know how to use it, but it was better than nothing. It had to be.
Mere yards away from Tracou, the man Mirthal had taken his sword from grabbed the elf's upper arms from behind and yanked them backwards in an attempt to startle him into dropping the sword. Mirthal was forced back. He struggled for a moment before he changed tactics, moving backward into the man. Lifting his leg, he kicked behind him, his foot colliding with the man's knee. The man held fast, cringing, but his full effort went to withstanding the blow he had just received. Mirthal wrested his arms from him and whirled around, both hands on the hilt of his stolen sword.
Further away from Tracou, Pendaer faced the two men who had retained their weapons. They should have been able to overpower him, but they circled him nervously. These men had never had to really fight someone, to try and draw blood and take their life. Pendaer hadn't either, as far as Tracou knew, and yet he stood with a focus that could only come from years and years of training.
The dust in the air grew thicker with every passing second, making it difficult to see even if it hadn't hurt Tracou's eyes. But the dust didn't only effect his and the elves' eyesight—the humans were having trouble, as well.
The unarmed man Mirthal faced rubbed at his eyes, harshly spitting a single Winlean word before springing towards Mirthal again. Mirthal reacted quickly, swinging his sword like a club and hitting the man in the ribs with the flat, broad side of the blade. The man crumpled to the ground with a cry, holding his side. Mirthal stood over him, visibly panting, the sword in his hand shaking violently.
On Pendaer's end, his fight had begun in earnest. One of the men had made his move, bringing his sword down upon Pendaer. The elf blocked it, arm quivering from the impact. This should have left him open for the other man, who came at Pendaer from his left, his sword ready to slice downward. But Pendaer dipped down and swung his leg underneath the other man, leading him to lose his balance and fall back onto his behind. The first man gaped down at his fallen fellow. Pendaer took advantage of this, moving upright in one motion and flinging himself at the man. Startled, the man tried to block Pendaer's incoming blow with his sword, but the force of Pendaer's swing knocked the weapon out of his hand.
Now Pendaer had a choice. He could choose to end this swiftly or to draw out the process. It would be easy to kill someone who was unarmed, but Pendaer was an elf. He had previously gone on about how elves were above killing before this.
The dust was too thick for Tracou to see Pendaer anymore.
From his direction came two big cracks and then there was silence.
No big, final noise came from Mirthal's direction. The elf, pale, came into view as he approached Tracou on the boulder. He stopped almost as soon as Tracou could see him, eyes wide.
They weren't focused on Tracou.
Mirthal had dealt with one human and Pendaer had dealt with two. There was an archer at large—likely the person spreading this dust into the air—but even accounting for him... there had been four humans here, before.
Then Tracou noticed a presence behind him.
Arms snaked around his middle, tearing the knife out of Tracou's hand. The man's other arm pinned Tracou's arms to his side.
A blade rested against the soft skin of his throat. Tracou spluttered, too frightened to even scream. He attempted to struggle out of the man's hold on him, but the man tapped the flat side of the knife against his skin as a reminder. Tears streamed down his cheeks. They had for some time, due to the dust in the air, but now pathetic, shuddering gasps accompanied them.
This was it. Pendaer had killed two of this man's friends and Tracou was going to receive the same fate as revenge. Naturally Pendaer would be one of the causes of his untimely death.
Tracou's pulse thudded in his neck. If it beat any harder, it might knock into the knife.
The man didn't seem to have had a plan. He had a hostage, but no idea what to do with one. Mirthal was similarly frozen, his eyes flitting from Tracou to the man and back again over and over. His extensive, princely education could not have covered this.
Voice shaky, the man shouted some Winlean words at Mirthal.
"I don't understand!" Mirthal shouted back. He still had the sword he taken in his hands, gripping it like he intended to merge his hands and the hilt into one.
"Don't... move," the man said in a thick accent. "Or I kill him!"
The knife dug in slightly, tearing a short squeak from Tracou's mouth. Why hadn't he tried to hide or, at bare minimum, move? Stupid. How could he be so stupid?
With a pained expression, Mirthal nodded.
"Drop sword," the man barked. "You and... other one. Where other one?"
Tracou had lost track of Pendaer some time ago. As for Mirthal, he only seemed to realize that Pendaer couldn't be found now that someone had mentioned him. Either way, the dust had become too thick for any of them to find Pendaer.
"Drop sword!"
Grimacing, Mirthal did so.
The man let out a long breath after seeing that. He pulled the knife away from Tracou's neck just enough for Tracou to feel like a sudden jerk of his head wouldn't kill him.
"You and other one go!" the man called, as though this was the obvious development.
Eyebrows raised, Mirthal shook his head. "No!"
"Do you not understand? You go!"
"I'm not leaving without him!"
While a nice sentiment, and certainly one Tracou appreciated, they were at a standstill. Mirthal had dropped his weapon, giving the man with the knife total power over the situation. He could slit Tracou's throat at any time and Mirthal wouldn't be able to do anything about it.
The man pulled Tracou up off of the rock, expecting him to stand next to it. Resting his weight on his uninjured leg, Tracou kept his other leg above the ground, relying on the man to keep him balanced. This did not escape the man's notice. He glanced down at Tracou's legs, grinned, and loosened his grip on Tracou's arms. Things were much simpler for the man now that he knew his hostage couldn't run away.
This was Tracou's opportunity. Surely he could do something now that the man's guard was down, but what? If he tried to make a break for it, his injured leg wouldn't let him get very far even if he tried to run on it. He couldn't push the man off of him, either. Maybe if he had some kind of weapon he could do something, but the man had taken his knife from him. All he had with him was his useless wand.
His wand. While it wasn't sharp, it would still hurt to have it jabbed into one's side.
"You not-humans... together? No, you go!"
"Let him go!"
Taking short gasps of air, Tracou pulled his wand out of his sleeve and transferred it into his left hand. The man held him on his right side, meaning that Tracou's left arm was closest to the man's stomach. The man did not consider Tracou as a threat or even a flight risk, considering the loose grip he had on him.
He held the wand tightly in his left hand, the tip pointed towards the man. As quickly as he could, he pulled his hand away from the man and then swung it back towards him, ramming his wand into the man's belly.
With a cry, the man jerked backward, pulling the arm with the knife away from Tracou to cover his stomach. The wand hadn't been enough to injure the man permanently, but it had been enough to hurt.
Having been waiting in the wings for a chance to strike, Pendaer appeared and tackled the man. The three of them tumbled onto the ground. The man had the wind knocked out of him and struggled to pull air into his lungs while also trying to get Pendaer off of him. But the fall had no effect on Pendaer. He straddled the man's chest, tore Tracou's knife out of his hand, and held it to the man's throat. All of this had happened in seconds.
Radiating victory, Pendaer turned to give Tracou a look of absolute superiority, a look that said, "You would be dead if not for me." Tracou had no response to that; he could very well be right.
Mirthal had picked his sword back up and dashed over to them. Kneeling next to Tracou, he helped him sit up.
"Are you okay?!"
Was he okay? As far as he knew, he hadn't gained any new injuries, so he nodded.
Mirthal pulled Tracou up against him, supporting his back with his arm despite the fact that Tracou didn't need it. The sword didn't fit well into this equation, though, and Mirthal spent some time awkwardly juggling Tracou and the sword both as he tried to figure out a way to hold Tracou and the sword at the same time, with the same arm.
Still straddling the human, Pendaer turned to look at Mirthal and Tracou, disapproval all over his face. Luckily, even he knew he had more important things to do than gripe about what Mirthal was doing. He focused on the man underneath him, sneering down at him.
"Why did you attack us?"
Silence. The man was cornered, yes, but he wasn't a common rogue. Spilling his guts about why might save him from two elves and a dezmek, but there could be dire consequences back in Dorssur. Swallowing dryly, the man appeared to be weighing his options.
Then, without any warning, he threw Pendaer off of him, scrambled onto his feet, and ran off without a second look behind him. Pendaer landed on the ground with a wet thud, rolling once towards the bank of the river, his eyes open not in surprise, but in offense.
The sight startled both Tracou and Mirthal to the point that no one said anything or even moved for a while. The dust finally began to dissipate—the person on the top of the cliff had run out of ground up, magic absorbing rock to spread in the air. The air became clearer, making it easier to see and breathe, but the powder covered each of them. They had been damp before, meaning that the dust stuck to them easily.
The four men on the ground with them had been dealt with, or so Tracou assumed. He didn't know what had happened to the one Mirthal was fighting.
"Are we safe?" Tracou asked.
Mirthal's eyes widened and he glanced around. It was like he had assumed they were safe until questioned on it, only then realizing that there was a possibility that they weren't.
"I think we are," he replied, frowning in the direction of the cliff.
"We should get going!" Pendaer shouted as he walked over to them. Unlike Mirthal and Tracou, Pendaer wasn't tinted gray thanks to his roll in the wet grass; he had gray streaks all over him instead. "We never did get that archer, so he might call for more people!"
Mirthal nodded. He then moved to pick Tracou up, but the sword made it difficult. Frowning, he held the sword up and offered it to Tracou.
"Could you hold this?"
As Tracou processed this strange request, Pendaer leaned down and took the sword from Mirthal instead.
"That's dangerous, your highness."
Mirthal blinked up at him. A moment later, he sheepishly nodded.
Soon, though not soon enough for Tracou's liking, they were back in the wagon and on the move again. Tracou and Mirthal sat together while Pendaer directed the horses. The roar of the waterfall faded away, leaving them with the sounds of clopping hooves and turning wheels.