Cory Herndon: The Fifth Dawn

“Where have you been?” Glissa asked.

“Thought these guys on our si-ow!” Slobad whispered, then yelped as a the point of a sword poked him between the shoulder blades. The goblin risked a look back over one shoulder and said irritably, “Cut it out, huh? Know who this is?” he asked, cocking his head in Glissa’s direction. “Huh? Greatest warrior in the Tangle, here! You not know. Asking for trouble. Crazier than she is.”

“Quiet!” the gruff voice behind him barked. “She’s a criminal, and if you’re with her, you are too. But I only have orders to bring one of you in alive. Guess which one, goblin?”

“Banryk, this is ridiculous,” Glissa managed as she narrowly missed tripping over a newly exposed tree root that had melted around the edges. “I’m not a criminal, and neither is he. This is foolish. Something amazing had happened. I have to talk to the elders.”

“I said, quiet!” the growling elf hissed in return and gave Glissa a shove that nearly sent her sprawling face-first into the thick, wiry undergrowth. She managed to keep her balance, no thanks to the enchanted leather straps that the Tel-Jilad warriors had used to tie her hands behind her back. The bindings blocked the natural currents of mana that should have been at the tips of her claws here in her home range. Even though she’d tried to convince the trio of Chosen that Slobad couldn’t even use magic, they’d tied him up the same way.

The Tel-Jilad warriors had easily subdued the exhausted pair. Glissa cursed her luck. She still hadn’t been able to rest, and now she had neither the emotional or physical strength to fight her own people. Even if that included fighting an ambitious blockhead like Banryk.

The other two were unfamiliar-they’d probably been inducted into the Chosen after Glissa’s family had been killed and she left the Tangle. Neither had said a word since the capture.

Despite the situation-arrested on her home turf after helping stop a madman from destroying the world-she couldn’t fight back a stab of melancholy at seeing the distinctive, rune-inscribed armor the Tel-Jilad Chosen wore proudly on their chests. It reminded her of Kane. For all she knew, one of the newcomers was his replacement.

The vedalken murdered Kane only a few weeks ago, but they were weeks that felt like a lifetime. A few weeks ago, she would have given anything just to have her old life back the way it was. A few weeks ago, she was an idealistic hunter with no conception of the wider world or her place in it. Now, knowing the things she knew, the Tangle suddenly felt very … small. She wondered if the pang of sadness was truly over the loss of Kane, or her own loss of innocence.

The three guards poked and prodded their prisoners down a narrow game path that cut through the foliage. Glissa recognized it as one that led directly back to her village.

Banryk had never been the most enlightened of the Tel-Jilad Chosen. She’d been forced to repel his clumsy romantic advances on numerous occasions. Glissa got the disturbing feeling that Banryk was taking more than the usual pleasure in his duties as one of the Chosen, and silently promised he would regret his thuggish behavior when she got out of this.

After a three-hour hike through the Tangle, the forest finally began to thin out a little and the guards prodded their captives off the game trail and onto the wide forest thoroughfare that led to Viridia. Through the glittering leaves, Glissa finally saw the distant glow of hanging gelfruit and open terraces in her home village. The green moon cast a dim jade light that gave the warm hearth glow a sickly pallor. Here and there, a sickly looking corrosion grew on the spiky limbs. The rough, rusty spots consumed the green.

As they drew closer, Glissa began to wonder where the people were. Even in early evening, even after an event like the ascension of a new moon, there should have been dozens of elves going about their business in the village. From her vantage point, Glissa could only see two more Tel-Jilad who stepped silently onto the road ahead, near the old Tangle tree stump inscribed with the village’s name and protective runes that served as a marker for this entrance to Viridia. The warrior on the left had a familiar stance Glissa couldn’t quite place, and a hand resting on his sword hilt. The other’s face was obscured by a drawn bow and an arrow pointed at Glissa’s heart.

“Halt!” Called the familiar-looking elf. His companion kept an arrow trained on Glissa. “Approach slowly, and no one will get hurt.”

“Yulyn, we’ve got the situation under control,” Banryk objected. “She’s not going to get away so easily again.”

Yulyn. That was a name she knew well, but hadn’t expected to hear. Before Glissa came along, Yulyn had been the greatest hunter in the Tangle, but he’d disappeared several months ago while tracking a pack of migratory ferroclaws. Viridians, Glissa included, had assumed the predatory creatures had finally beat Yulyn at his own game. Despite his long absence, the old warrior didn’t look any worse for his experience, whatever had happened to him.

But Yulyn had never worn the armor of the Chosen. What was going on?

“Banryk, you idiot, I sent you to fetch one prisoner. You’ve got one and a half,” Yulyn said. Glissa could tell from his tone that the older elf held Banryk in a much lower regard than the “half prisoner.”

“Half!” Slobad exploded.

“Slobad, not now,” Glissa whispered.

“Listen to your confederate, goblin,” Banryk said. The thuggish guard gave Slobad a shove, and the little man pitched forward onto the road face first.

That did it. Nobody shoved Slobad while Glissa had anything to say about it. The goblin continued to scream and curse about stupid elves as he rolled on the ground like an overturned insect, creating the perfect distraction. She hoped Yulyn’s friend with the bow would be unwilling to fire into a group that included three of his own allies.

Glissa bent her knees slightly and hunched forward then flung her head backward with all her might and let out an invigorating yell. She felt her skull connect with the face of one of her unknown captors, and warmth flowed over the back of her head-whether the blood was her own or the guard’s, she didn’t know and didn’t care. The important thing was that her move caused the guard to release her in surprise.

With her foe still off-balance, Glissa had to act fast, and without the use of her bound hands. She bent at the waist and spun around, leading with one shoulder and trying to knock her captor over. In the process, she hoped to dodge the arrow she knew would be coming. But the guard was ready for her move, and danced back out of the way-then stumbled backward over a twisting, rolling goblin shouting a stream of epithets that could melt tree bark. One down. Glissa turned again and charged headfirst at Banryk, whose jaw was still hanging open in shock.

Her head slammed into the loud-mouthed Tel-Jilad’s gut and Glissa heard a satisfying whoosh of expelled air as she made solid contact with Banryk’s solar plexus. He doubled over and collapsed on all fours, gasping.

Glissa heard an expletive-ridden goblin battle cry. Slobad had regained his footing, clutching a small, broken blade of Tangle-adapted razor grass in one bleeding hand. The goblin’s bindings lay in tatters on the ground. Slobad launched himself at their last standing captor, who let out a yelp of surprise as the goblin landed on his chest and began slashing at him with the sharp but flimsy plant. The stumbling guard, blinded by ninety pounds of goblin, accidentally kneed Banryk in the side and then went over backwards, struggling to keep Slobad from inflicting a mortal wound. Still fighting her own bonds, Glissa turned to face Yulyn and his bow-happy friend. They were nowhere in sight.