Chapter 69: The Pride of the Elves
"Shit, you pointy-eared bastards! If you have the guts, come out and fight us face-to-face!" Zoltan had finally re-gripped his beloved axe, but with no immediate enemies to strike, he was forced to remain huddled in the wagon canopy, which made him exceptionally grumpy.
With the draft horses dead, the caravan was completely immobilized. The situation instantly deteriorated to a near-irretrievable state: fifty meters was too short a range for the elven archers a miss was virtually impossible; but the distance was too great for the people inside the wagon there was no chance of closing in for melee combat.
"Don't panic, don't panic, let me try. This lute was a gift from an elf when Geralt and I were at the Edge of the World…" Dandelion's face was pale as he awkwardly cradled his lute. Since the canopy itself offered little protection, they had to lie flat, using the low sides of the wagon for cover. Although Arthur didn't understand what the poet was singing, his voice was certainly loud Arthur had no doubt the song would reach the elves' ears.
"Goddammit, you actually know the Elder Speech! Why aren't you cursing them out, you arsehole?" Zoltan asked, thoughtfully holding his axe above Dandelion as an extra shield.
"It's the Elder Speech, the language of the elves," Kolgrim corrected.
"This piece I'm singing is the story of when Geralt and I met the elves at the Edge of the World. Its main theme is that everyone can coexist peacefully."
When the song ended, Dandelion's face regained a bit of color: "I think they've accepted the peace proposal…"
The poet dared to peer outside, but Zoltan yanked him back in an instant. A moment later, a feathered arrow whistled past the back of the wagon, striking sparks on the black basalt road.
"Shit! These pointy-ears are insane, they don't plan on leaving any survivors!" Zoltan kicked over a wooden storage box, split it with two axe swings, and picked up a larger piece of wood: "We have no other choice! We charge out and hack the bastards to bits!"
Kolgrim shook his head: "No good. There are at least four archers. You won't have a chance to get close."
"We still have a chance!" Zoltan jutted out his neck, ready to argue, but then he saw Arthur stand up.
Arthur's hair stirred as if caught by a breeze, and the magical light flashing in his hands almost entirely bathed the interior of the canopy in white:
"Barrier Spell: Infinite Corridor!"
In the eyes of the elves, a flash of white light erupted from the caravan, and the Old Way beneath it suddenly vanished.
No, it hadn't vanished. It was covered by a dark red tunnel. This tunnel extended for over a hundred meters in both directions along the Old Way, centered on the caravan.
"We should leave before this gets any more attention," a dryad said, looking up. She carried a mahogany bow, the grip of which was alternately bonded with fine-grained wood and whalebone, making it strong and light. Oddly, despite holding such a formidable bow, she had not participated in the attack, merely watching the horses from beneath the trees.
"We've caught a big fish! These apes have a mage among them!" A red-haired male elf shouted excitedly. His face could have been described as handsome, but for a small, melted-looking gap on the left corner of his lip, exposing pale teeth that made his whole face look savage:
"I'm going to nail his head to the tree trunk so every passing human can see it!"
As male elf Iorveth spoke, he nocked another arrow. But before he could even draw the bowstring, an arrow shot up from below split the shaft of his arrow right in the middle.
The elves collectively turned to look down at the dryad. The dryad had somehow unslung the recurve bow from her back, and in her other hand, she gripped four long arrows, their iron tips glinting coldly.
It was an undeniable warning.
"Iorveth, are you trying to betray the alliance between the Elves and the Dryads?!" a female elf shouted. The male elf, whose arrow had been severed, nocked another one, aiming the arrowhead toward the dryad:
"Isn't it obvious? This she-ape has gone soft after seeing us kill her kin. Hey, she-ape! If you want to save your companions, you can kneel down and beg…"
Before the male elf could finish his sentence, a flash of ferocity crossed the dryad's eyes. She raised her bow with lightning speed, and the arrow shot out like a striking snake.
Snap!
Iorveth hadn't anticipated such a violent reaction from the dryad. Before he could react, his composite bow was snapped in two. Even so, the arrow's momentum didn't falter, grazing his temple and leaving a long, bleeding gash.
The male elf gasped, pulling his short sword from his waist as if to leap. The other elves also raised their bows.
But the dryad had magically nocked another arrow, locking onto Iorveth's brow: "That shot was merely a personal grievance."
She glanced out of the corner of her eye at the elves aiming their bows at her, a look of contempt on her face: "But if you truly want a fight, I'm ready. At this range, even if you draw first, you'll be the ones who die!"
The elves fell silent. When they had followed the dryad, Red-Kite, to Brokilon, they had personally witnessed how she used a rapid-fire technique to shoot down their pursuers.
"Iorveth, let it go. This is the dryads' territory, after all," the female elf advised.
"Yes, and Red-Kite saved our lives. What you said just now was truly out of line." The other elves, though still holding their draw positions, had softened their tones.
"Fine. In the name of the thousand-year friendship between elves and dryads, I am willing to lower my weapon first."
As Iorveth sheathed his dagger, the other elves also visibly relaxed, lowering their weapons.
Iorveth stood upright, his face flushed with humiliation that his comrades hadn't sided with him: "I apologize for my inappropriate words."
"But I do not understand why you, a dryad raised by the forest, would take the side of the humans." He was clearly still smarting from the earlier defeat and wanted to regain some face through words.
Red-Kite's sharp gaze swept over the elves' faces: "I am a member of the dryads. That is why, when you were running like beaten dogs, I risked my life to bring you here to Brokilon."
"And now, you have barely healed your wounds before rushing to launch attacks nearby is this how you repay kindness? By dragging the benevolent hosts who took you in into the fires of war?"
A look of embarrassment flashed across the elves' faces, which quickly hardened into arrogance and cold indifference. The female elf leaped lightly down from the tree canopy onto a horse's back, walking silently toward the edge of the forest without a word. The other elves followed suit in silence.
"What are you doing? Where are you going?" Red-Kite called out loudly behind them, but only Iorveth gave an answer:
"Elves have never begged anyone for help. We have our pride. If the dryads fear war, then you may hide in your forest. We shall show you how the Elves fight until the very last moment!"
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