Eternities trickled by, but eventually Mirthal heard voices in the distance. This noise threatened to drown out the silent Ergakan.
Mirthal placed a hand on his sword, fiddling with the hilt. So much of his time had been spent swinging it around, but to what end? Had that time been wasted? He still knew the bow better, despite Pendaer having made the one he had. But he wanted to use the sword. A sword would allow him to take center stage, to rush in like someone awe-inspiring. He took his bow and quiver off of his back and laid them on the ground next to him, so he wouldn't bumble around knocking into them when going for the sword.
Soon, the voices became more distinct. Mirthal peered out around the corner of the house and saw a mass of humanity drifting towards Ergakan.
Most of them spoke Winlean, making it easy to zero in on the two speaking Aodehsh.
"Yes, if you continue on this road you'll get to their horrible little capital in under a week," Pendaer said.
Another voice, deep and smooth, replied. "Good. Do they have horses in this upcoming village?"
"Not enough for everyone here. Dezmek don't use beasts of labor, you see. The only dezmek who need horses are those who travel without wagons."
"Mm, that is rather unfortunate. Did you have a horse before they captured you?"
"I did. I hope to wrest it from their tiny hands."
"It's impossible to deal with them when they have magic, isn't it? They've dominated the seas for so long, keeping us from using it as we see fit... But with this powder, they're helpless. We've captured many of their ships."
"Have you? Serves them right."
Whatever Pendaer had told them, they had accepted as the truth. Mirthal couldn't tell if Pendaer had some latent acting ability or if his distaste for dezmek made him more believable.
"Why did they capture you?" another voice asked. This one sounded younger. It tickled something in Mirthal's mind, something important.
Pendaer let out a long sigh, sounding to Mirthal like he was trying to buy himself some time.
"I was working in Shalen at the time as a merchant. One dezmek, the lord here, wanted something I was selling for an outrageous price... I refused, naturally. The next thing I knew I woke up restrained on a wagon that was moving without a horse."
"That is frightening."
"Dezmek are no better than animals, really. Their ability to use magic makes them think that they're invincible, like they can do anything they want, but you don't see elves acting like that."
Mirthal winced. Humans didn't praise elves out of the blue. Pendaer might be able to pass for a human, considering his hidden ears, disguised height, and his relatively muscular body, but slip-ups like that would ruin him.
For a moment, all Mirthal could hear was Winlean.
The younger man spoke again. "Do you know much about elves?"
That voice. It meant something and if he would just speak longer, then maybe Mirthal could get a handle on it. It reminded him of bread, of all things.
"Oh, well, about as much as anyone else. They sometimes visit Shalen."
"I see."
They were getting closer now.
"This village seems abandoned..."
"They're hiding. They're worried about the dust, as they should be, so they gathered in that hovel up on the hill."
"I do not suppose they will come out any time soon. Perhaps this is a good chance to give my, err, men here a chance to rest. We have been walking for quite some time."
"Ah..." Pendaer trailed off. "Well, as you can see, the homes here are all lacking doors... If you can walk just a bit farther, I imagine there will be buildings you can enter. That would help with the cold. Despite their ragged appearance, they're solid."
"...Why don't they have doors?"
"A precaution. Dezmek are horrible little thieves, even stealing from their own neighbors. You have to tap on the right spot to reveal the door."
The crowd of humans, with Pendaer and two other men leading them, was nearly upon them. The noise matched Terel, despite there only being one hundred people. Like Stepan had said, the majority of the men lacked discipline. They wore what amounted to thickly layered rags and were flanked by some men wearing Winlean armor.
Stepan's seagull landed near the house across from Mirthal's chosen hiding place. It stomped back and forth for a bit before settling two feet away from the building.
"How much farther?" a man a few fingers shorter than Pendaer, the one with the deeper voice, asked. His armor differed from the others—unlike the shoulder guards cut to look like feathers, he wore something like scales. He had to be the leader.
"Not much." Pendaer gestured down the road. "Those houses there would be good enough."
"Commander Burman, do you—" the younger man, the one with the bread voice, began, catching himself. He then leaned over to the other one and muttered something in Winlean to him. Commander Burman grunted in acknowledgment and, a moment later, said a couple of words to him. Whether they were to comfort him or what, Mirthal didn't know.
The humans had come close enough that if they might spot him, so Mirthal inched towards the other side of the house. He pressed himself against the back wall of the house, peering out from behind it.
Just as Pendaer and the other two passed the second pair of homes, the two men stopped. Pendaer was forced to stop as well.
"Is something wrong?"
"I know this must seem rude, but this is protocol for us after a bad incident in Dorssur some time ago. We should have asked this of you before, but we were overjoyed to see another human here... Could you pull back your hood?" the younger man asked.
Realization hit Mirthal like a blow to the head—that man was one of the guards from Dorssur. He was the one who had brought bread down into the dungeon. Sakshi's friend!
Somehow Mirthal felt like this hadn't been what Sakshi meant when she had advised him to leave Dorssur.
Instead of fumbling with an awkward reply, Pendaer became indignant at the question. He turned his nose up at the men while his lips pulled as far downward as he could manage, his eyes and forehead obscured by the overhanging fabric.
"I'll have you know that I wear this hood for your benefit. I've been disfigured by one of these dezmek and if you saw what he did to me you might not be able to stand it. My face looks fine, but the back of my head is unspeakable. And I have to live like this for the rest of my days!"
The two men near the front flinched and even other humans who were close enough to hear Pendaer start screeching took a moment to eye him. His furious body language communicated everything necessary. He moved forward again, as if in a huff, and the men reluctantly followed.
Now the mass of humans were, for the most part, settled between the six houses. Some of them hadn't yet reached the cluster, but the dezmek might miss their chance if they waited too long.
Without waiting for a response, Pendaer marched away from them, only stopping past the gull. Then he whirled around, his expression stupidly haughty.
"Steel yourselves! Nothing can prepare you for the horror you're about to witness!" he barked, pushing his hood back.
At the same time, Stepan's gull let out a shrill cry. Mirthal pulled himself back behind the house just before the rocks and whatever else the villagers could scrounge up began to fly.
Although Mirthal couldn't see it, he could hear it. Vividly. Horrible sounds of skin and bones absorbing the impact of objects traveling at absurd speeds echoed in his ears. Howls of pain followed along with alarmed shouting as the humans, the majority of which probably hadn't even wanted to come to Dezmer in the first place, scrambled to avoid the airborne rubble. Men who managed to get away from the chaos simply ran. One of them sprinted right past Mirthal, his left arm dangling at his side. In the midst of all this, Commander Burman tried to bellow some orders, but they fell on deaf ears.
It felt like hours had passed before things settled down, but it couldn't have been longer than a minute. The dezmek had exhausted their supply of objects. Only agonized groans made by those not lucky enough to have passed easily filled the air, now.
Until Mirthal heard Pendaer squawk in outrage.
"I knew it, elf!"
"Hold him, Karthik!"
Mirthal peeked around the edge of the house to see Pendaer restrained by Karthik, the young man with the bread voice. Karthik had his arms under Pendaer's, with his hands meeting at the back of Pendaer's neck, forcing his arms up. Pendaer struggled in the man's grip, tearing at his arms. Karthik grit his teeth as he held him. As a human man, Karthik had the edge in strength, but not enough of one that he had no difficulty keeping Pendaer at bay. In fact, the intensity of Pendaer's flailing brought him closer to freedom with each passing second. Grunting, Karthik shoved Pendaer down into the dirt, pinning him with his body. Pendaer had the wind knocked out of him. He continued to struggle against Karthik, but he had little chance now that he was underneath him.
Out of the one hundred humans that had come to Ergakan, only two remained standing. The other able men had fled. The rest of their force lay in the dirt, either dead or maimed. Because they had been on the outskirts of the throng of men, the soldiers had largely been the first to die. Blood, so much blood, oozed into the soil.
"Unhand me!" Pendaer yelled from the ground. His short blond hair, not having seen the light of day in weeks, stuck to his forehead.
"You'll pay for this, elf," Commander Burman spat. "Your ears might be a good start..."
Without thinking, Mirthal stood, drawing his sword, and rushed over to the commander to take a swing at him. But his clumsy approach, paired with the way Pendaer shouted, "Your highness!" in Elvish ruined his attack. Commander Burman whirled around and had his sword out before Mirthal reached him. This didn't stop Mirthal. He lifted his sword over his head and, once close enough, brought it down. Commander Burman blocked it and pushed Mirthal's sword back, forcing Mirthal back along with it.
"Another elf?!"
As Mirthal stood, sizing up the man in front of him, Pendaer began to babble.
"And more where that came from! So many more. This horrible little village is crawling with elves!"
Commander Burman glanced at Pendaer out of the corner of his eye, considering this, before shaking his head.
If there were more elves, Mirthal wouldn't have jumped out alone. That was obvious.
Tricks were worthless now—the humans in front of them were not about to fall for them after what they had done. Not only that, but what could they do? He only had one option: fight.
Mirthal lifted his sword, his heart bouncing uncontrollably in his chest. This was his moment. He would show everyone, not just Tracou (but especially him), that he could contribute.
It didn't matter that his enemy was a military man, one that exuded experience, one that wore actual armor. He regarded Mirthal coolly, matching his stance. If Mirthal wanted a fight, then Burman would give it to him.
Commander Burman made the first move. He jabbed at Mirthal's middle, making Mirthal hop to the side.
A test.
Mirthal struck back, lunging forward. His sword glanced off of Burman's armor.
He didn't want to kill this Burman, but he had to incapacitate him. His limbs and neck were exposed, but his torso was well guarded. Hacking into an arm would stop his attacks, but he could bleed to death. The land here in Ergakan stunk with blood already—he didn't want to add to it.
The look on Commander Burman's face shifted from neutral to mocking.
"You elves are not much better than the dezmek."
Before Mirthal could respond, Burman slashed at him. Mirthal sloppily got his blade in the way of Burman's, blocking him, but that wasn't the end. The last thing Burman was interested in was trading blows—instead he began to attack Mirthal in earnest. He never let up, their swords clashing over and over. Overwhelmed, Mirthal focused entirely on defending himself. Each time Mirthal stopped a blow, he felt the impact all the way up his arm.
This wasn't like fighting Pendaer. Humans and elves were entirely different beasts.
Burman's ferocity pushed Mirthal back. Where was he leading him? Mirthal couldn't even spare a glance backward. Fear clawing his head, he kept his eyes on Burman's sword and cringed at each clang as the force of their swords meeting rattled his bones.
He couldn't do this for long. Already, his breaths came in short gasps. He could trip at any moment. What then?
Death. Only death.
He had to think of something. There had to be a way to deal with this, to catch Burman off guard. To kill him, if he had to.
Suddenly, something solid hit his back—one of the houses.
He was trapped.
He was trapped and he was going to die.
Commander Burman grinned at him. A moment later he hit Mirthal's blade at just the right angle, knocking the sword out of his trembling hands.
Mirthal didn't turn his head to see where it had gone. The man's grin stretched further, crawling up both sides of his face. He held the tip of his sword at Mirthal's throat.
He was dead weight after all.