Second Arrival

The cold crags this time of year were inches thick with ice from the wind driven rain. It was months into the cold season, and the cold season lasted for too many months for much of the common folk to survive. Things were harsh and reserves ran low. Most winters saw a warm spell but not this winter, there was ice there was lightning and when the spring did finally come many families would be found frozen. Few survived this kind of winter and those that did would pass the stories on for generations until a similar season would descend and take from the world those old enough to remember and those too young to make it to the next one. In years to come these winters would occur less and less often.

Years before the winters had increased in frequency. But that was before the stone embattlements were raised against the hordes before the land was ravaged by magic spells and the earth itself spit up this wicked endless sea of icy crags. It was before the first human called the embattlements ancient and before the elves returned to the lands to repair the archmages wrath. Before the fall of the elven encampment and the Year of the Chase when every elf who arrived from across the sea would fall at the blades of the dark hordes....but this day...this day was midwinter the longest night of the season, the storm that sat over the land would rage for days and scour inches from the rocks with wind swept ice...but not a single storm thereafter would be as strong, nor a winter as long of season. In fact every day after this one would be different for the human race because on this day a ship would drop anchor off a shore with no name. The sailors even though they had been here before would not recognize the lands before them and although the very feet that tread here before would not find a single similar foothold....there would never be a day this land would not know the feel of an elven boot.

This day....the elves returned, but this day it wasn't an emissary's soft boot that padded up the ruin stairway, it was armored and as he stood on the broken ruins and peered out across the crags, he knew a great many things had not gone as the elven council had forseen it.
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Exactly one year and six months to the day since the last elf had set foot on this land, exactly four thousand two hundred and fourteen days since the elves left for the far off islands across the sea where they had lived in isolation from the land of men. Each day since a thousand years ago the magic that held this realm together slowly began to deteriorate and finally less then 20 years ago the elves began to understand why. The earth was dying.

It was Maralil of the Elven High Council that first theorized that the true heart of magic resided in the lands of men. The lands the elves had left in charge of mankind. Slowly elves began to pass away...elves were dying. Many of the oldest elves just laid to rest and never awoke. How could it be? Maralil was shocked, indeed the whole council was fearful of what this meant. Without the worldly magics the elves were becoming as mortals and without the magic circles of the High Council they could not see what was causing this. It was Maralil who pointed to the land of men, the only land now unknown to the elven people, the first land shared by all races. Something was happening there, something aweful.

A small ship with an emissary and 2 score of elven guard set sail for the lands of men. And they sailed into the unknown, no magic to guide them, in six months they landed on shores they did not remember, and within one year every elf who set sail had been hunted and killed by the hordes. The vast majority of men never knew they came, save a small nomad village. It was Maralil that felt the deaths, some tiny thread of magic, a thin veil between worlds....as Maralil passed away from this world her eyes caught the glimpse of something aweful, and her lips murmured the words to her husband Siliden. She had seen the night, the darkness that swept over the lands, something had happened to the lands of men. Something had damaged the heart of the earth.

And so Siliden stood on stone embattlements built by man and elf alike, torn asunder by the black hordes whom he had never seen. Ice whipped his cloak about him and his eyes peered through the tightest of helm slits. Below him elves guided ashore boat after boat of their kinsmen from a full fleet of ships anchored just beyond the storms darkness just outside of view from shore. He directed a scouting party to look for a suitable encampment. The elves had returned and they were not leaving until things were set right.
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In a short week the storms had let up and the elves had moved stone and ice aside and created a strong encampment. Large ships had pulled anchor and left for the Elven lands for more supplies and to bring more ranks of warrior and bowmen. They had already fought several skirmishs against raiding groups of Orc, and Troll. One onslaught brought with them Giants, albeit a small breed, but one unknown to the elves. They too met elven arrows and fell under the barrage of elven blades. Who directed these attacks and where the humans had gone was completely unknown.

Much of the winter was subsiding by the time the second arrival of the ships. Siliden had built a small fortress from the stones and crags on the shore. They had also named the location....Arrival Sands. As the rocky coastline had been somewhat cleared of crags and rocks to make way for the landing of supplies. Many scouting parties had returned with no word of human settlements or indeed of anything besides orc, troll, and giants. It was as this point Siliden had decided to go out himself, if he could just find something more recent then these ancient ruins he would have some hope for mankind.

The sun rose high this day and so much melting was happening that tiny rivers had formed between the crags and Siliden was bending to splash some water on his face. When he reached into the small pool of cold water he saw something glimmer and snatched it up. It was a broken arrow. Just the head but his face slowly changes as he realized what he was holding. The wood could not have been here but a single winter and as he had not seen a tree in the months he had been here he had to assume it was brought from a great distance away. He called over one of his scouts...

"Kerithil, does this look like the arrow of an orc to you?"
With a smile Kerithil looked down at the arrowhead. "No sire, what you hold in your hand is too fine a make to be goblin, or orc."
"Then its something we have not seen before, and thats something indeed."
"Yes sire it is and the head is too long to be on a short shaft, this is drawn by a much larger creature"

Siliden dropped the arrowhead in his pouch.
"What would bring someone out into this desolation?"
"Being chased or chasing something, its the only reason to be exposed and so far from...anything"
"We need to mount a longer expedition and find the wood...if there is any."

Siliden and his party turned back and headed to the fortress. There Siliden would handpick his group and send them out in the direction of his arrow find. They would then turn south, as it is warmer he hoped for trees or at the very least vegetation of some kind. Perhaps if they found trees and forest they would find the source of the arrow.
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Siliden chose Tlinden Silversmoke to lead the expedition. Tlinden was a broader elf then most. His arms were thick by elven standards but no less supple or deft in movement. He was a bit shorter then the average elf and his hair was a coppery color. His crystal blue eyes squinted tightly in the morning sun as they crested a large crag. They were barely still in eyeshot of the elven fortress but only because of its size. The elves had constructed fast and without magic of any kind much labor was involved Tlin was happy to be out from behind the walls and moving quickly across the open vast. It wasn't the wilderness but it held the feel of the wild something a fortress could never hold. As he popped up over a crag and then back down again along side him you could spot a half dozen other elves in his party.
Tlinden's immediate right hand was Lithia a fully anointed member of the council of seers. She was one of the few elves who still felt the magics in nature and could still feel the future. She was one of the only seers left with true vision. Her robes undulated around her slight form in the wind licking at the crags and the shattered ground. The wind was strong and when she crested the top of the crag with Tlin she lost her footing almost hauled aloft by the wind. Just then a tiny black bolt ripped through her sleeve.
Tlin grabbed her and quickly and they slid to the base of the crag about fifteen feet. He spun as they slid and they landed hard against sharp rock with Tlin taking the brunt if the force.
Tlin jumped to his feet in a crouch and peered over the crag. Another bolt skipped off the rock in front of him and from behind him he could hear the other elves and the distinct sound of a drawing elven shortbow. His brother Kivlin the sharpest eyes in all the elven lands. He was always proud to have him at his back.
Orc could be heard scampering from rocky hole and cover to the next. They were advancing.
Lithia was crouched in silence and her lips murmered old incantations. War magic, words and intentions no elf had conjured in centuries. She was hoping that there was enough old magic in this place that her spell would hold together for just a moment.

Kivlin's attack was first his bow shuddering as it launched its mighty sting only inches over the rocks and the sound of arrow through armor was all to evident as was the gurgling of orc blood. And they attacked...

Two orcs jumped over the rocks next to Tlin and another slid down the broken rubble nearly nocking over Kivlin. His end was met first as a tall lithe elf named Havinir quickly ran him through with a long elven spear. Kivlin's second arrow took the nearest Orc near his brother and as the arrow struck home Kivlin was certain he heard other orcs running to flank although he could not see them. Perhaps the orcs did not know there were two more elves watching the flank....and then he heard swords and clangs. What the orcs did not know before they were well aware of now.

Tlinden dodged the first attack from the largest orc he can ever remember tell of and drew a slender curved blade. At his back another Orc crested the cragwall and was met with two arrows in rapid succession from Kivlin's bow before he was knocked from his footing by an orc who tossed a huge bolder at his legs. Kivlin's bow skittered across the sharp rocks and the orc was on him in a flash.

Tlinden lurched forward striking the orc in the arm opening a large gash between the shoddy orc-armor. And another Orc came on jumping on Tlin's back with a howl. Tlin expected an arrow to take his new assailent but nothing came and he was sure the foul beast was about to bite him. Then with a large crackle something sizzeled by Tlin's ear. The orc ripped off his shoulder and was battered against the rocks smoldering and smoking. The large orc spun around to see a shocked Lithia, just before she crumbled to the ground giving into an exhaustion she had not experienced in centuries. The large orc stepped back and Tlin struck fast, nocking his dark blade aside and burying his own blade half deep in orcflesh.

Kivlin drew his dagger and sliced at the orc's arm it howled and kicked at him as it rolled off and grabbed for another stone. Kivlin threw the dagger and the blade bit into the orc's hip. As the fetid beast grabbed at the wound Tlin jumped over the rock outcropping and struck him full across the neck taking his head. Another orc body fell on top of that foe and Havinir pulled his spear from its gullet.

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Just barely beyond sight of the stronghold and they were setting a camp. The wind howled, kicking sand and small rocks up as it dove into the crags. Tlin could not imagine what had caused the upturning of the ground here. It was as if the underbelly of the earth had been forced to push up, splitting and shattering as it came. Even with the elven cloaks and a makeshift shelter small stones still flew in occasionally. They would have kept moving but Lithia was unconscious and Tlinden was unsure what had happened but he was certain that the magics he saw before him that day cast by this tiny women had not been cast by any elf in centuries.

Tlinden and Kivlin sat opposite each other inside the shelter and spoke softly while Havinir and his two sisters kept the watch.

“Was it fire she invoked?” Kivlin asked.
“I don’t know, it was like lightning and yet it didn’t pass through the orc and hit me” Tlin was excited and yet worried for Lithia all at the same time.
“One thing is for certain” Kivlin began. “Lithia raised a high spell this day.”
Silence passed between them, high magics, the kind that could kill or create were beyond the realm of elves for many years. Something they had been most adept at and then slowly lost, something was coming back, something was changing.

At about midnight Lithia stirred and came to. When her eyes opened she was dizzy at first and was seeing shadows and lights. Within moments she realized she was not seeing lights nor tricks in her eyes from exhaustion but magics. She was seeing magic! The ground here was torn with it and it hung like licking flames on the ground. A great horrible spell had torn the ground asunder and its remnants still lingered at her feet. She had not seen the auras of magical spells in a great amount of time, in fact not since she chimed her two hundred and tenth year. That was when she was tending some ancient artifacts in the elven lands; the aura here was similar but darker possibly from time slowly fading the shards of magic perhaps because of ill intent.

Tlin walked in and saw Lithia standing and staring at the ground. He became worried. When she saw him she smiled.
“Tlin” She was visibly excited. “I can see the magic that tore the ground!”
Tlin obviously confused look down. And of course realizing in an instance that someone untrained in magic would never be able to see anything. He looked back into her eyes.
“Your alright then?” Tlin asked cautiously.
“I am fantastic!” she said.
“Alright then, we head out, swift of foot tomorrow morning.” Tlin sat down and prepared to rest the night.

They traveled a great portion of the next day up and down over and over again across the huge expanse of shattered rocks. Havlin was certain his ankles would give out. But before darkness set one of Havlin’s sisters Shala came back reporting that on the horizon they spotted some soft ground and beyond possibly a body of water most likely not inland sea but fresh water. A river hopefully fed into it and If they followed the river that was the most likely place to find a human city.

It was not long before the next morning came and the elves found themselves running down to the stream to fill wetskins, tall grasses were beneath their feet padding the path ahead of them. Tlin took a quick look backward over the rough terrain they spent the last two days traveling over and he felt for the arrowhead Siliden had given him. He was carrying the small token in a pouch near his heart. He took a pull off of his wetskin. It was icy cold from the fast moving stream. And before long the group was making their way along the riverbank.

It may have been a day or two before they spotted an animal and what looked like a stand of small trees. As they traveled on, in the distance there was clearly a large forest, heavy and dense with growth. The river pooled up ahead just outside of the trees and there was a large group of elk drinking at the pool edge. Finally, this was something.

Invisible to the eye most of the time was Havilin’s second sister Sindeeva named for the shadows. She was silvery and sleek, the perfect silent hunter, her eyes betrayed a throwback to a line of elves no one had seen in ages. The moon elves, lovers of song and dance and known for the worship of the night huntress. Sindeeva was well ahead of Shala and spotted the crouching orcs first. They were hunting elk and had not seen the coming of her group. There was about 3 of them and clearly a small hunting party a long way from home. She knew this because each of them was carrying heavy furs for the weather the likes of which they were in 3days ago. As the sun set and the moon raised up high Sindeeva’s eyes shifted into a field of vision few elves were aware of. Instead of seeing the bodies of heat before her which sometimes could be disorienting everything before her was bathed in silvery moonlight. She had signaled to her companions and the whole group had moved alongside the Orc encampment were the orcs were about to feast on the Elk they had gotten that day.

Peering into the camp there was 3 large orcs and 2 smaller creatures Havilin assumed to be Knolls although he had never seen one himself. But he could clearly make out a makeshift cage and inside that cage was a fawn.