Part Two: Alternative Teaching Methods
Chapter Four
ELENA
I was more than a little disappointed that the other rangers hadn't found Yavara's camp. It was less than a hundred yards from the main road and parked right in a clearing, as obvious as could be. The smell of rotting orc should have at least been a solid clue. I inspected the wound, confirming by the petrified flesh that it had been made by a Nadi arrow. I traced Yavara's tracks a few hundred more yards into the woods until I found the remains of nine more orcs. I smiled to myself as I looked upon the evidence of Yavara's marksmanship; every single arrow was a kill shot, not a one wasted. I traced the probable path of the arrows with my finger, locating many perches from which she could have fired.
A smart elf would have high-tailed it to Castle Thorum after the first orc.
I thought to myself as I examined the carnage. Yavara was not stupid, but she was certainly a hot-head. Queen Tiadoa thought me to be the corrupting influence, but it was almost always Yavara who convinced us to ditch class. Where Yavara's mother had been wrong, her eldest daughter had been right; I was deeply, hopelessly in love with Yavara. When we were younger I thought that was just how friends felt about each other. When puberty started to hit, I realized I was different. God had blessed me with an early blossoming, my breasts and backside growing into the shape of a woman's at a young age. Yavara often admired my figure, and scorned her own lanky body. I wanted so much to comfort her, to touch her, to explore her, but I never did, knowing that if my proposition was denied, our friendship would never be the same. Eventually Yavara grew into her own body, more beautiful than any woman in the kingdom, much to her elder sister's dismay. The men flocked to the pair of us, but we both shot them down. Yavara denied them because she wanted a 'real man' (whatever that was), and I denied the boys because I wanted Yavara.
And if I ever see her again, I'll spill my soul to her. So many years wasted for fear of rejection.
My eyes finally rested on a tree with a branch dangling from it by the bark. It was about thirty feet up, and would have made a perfect sniper's perch had it not broken. I traveled directly below the branch to find the shattered remains of Yavara's bow, a quiver of Nadi arrows scattered around it, and a massive footprint embedded in the dried mud. My heart sank as I traced the path of footprints, the tracks leading deeper into the woods. I collected the Nadi arrows, added them to my quiver, and followed the tail.
I walked step for step with the orc's prints for three hours until I came upon another clearing, this one with a large tent parked in the middle. I drew my bow and waited for signs of movement. When I was confident that the site was abandoned, I made my way from cover, my bow still drawn. I silently sprinted to the tent and rolled through the entrance, my eyes scanning swiftly. It was almost completely empty, save for a white cloth lying at the edge. I walked over to the cloth and inspected it. It fell from my shaking hands a moment later, pooling at my feet. It was Yavara's dress, torn to ribbons, crusted with blood and worse.
Oh, Yavara...
My tear-blurred eyes traced the room, looking for clues that could help me track her further. Yavara may have been ruined in the eyes of her father, but I still loved her, and I could never abandon her. My eyes met a third set of tracks, these ones bigger than an elf's, but smaller than an orc's. Human, most likely. All three tracks cluttered around the tent until they diverted deeper into the woods. I was confused as to why Yavara's feet were no longer bound; elves were faster than both humans and orcs over short distances, but it appeared Yavara never made the attempt. Maybe she'd been collared, or drugged. The tracks ended at some Alkandran ruins. I searched for where they continued, but there was no evidence that they went further.
What is it Adarian always says? 'When the trail goes cold, wait. The forest reveals its secrets to those who are patient.'
I sat by the Alkandran ruins and waited, trying vainly to keep my mind serene and receptive. Two years of ranger discipline kept the thoughts at bay, but they were still there, at the periphery of my subconscious. I'd raided orc strongholds before; I'd seen what orcs do to elven captives.
An eagle flew over my head, it's screech echoing throughout the forest. Clutched between its talons, was a piece of paper. Not an elven messenger bird, but a wild thing.
Adarian, you magnificent bastard.
I downed the eagle with an arrow and rushed to its corpse. I pulled the message from its talons.
"Sherok, the wizard and I are going to Ardeni on important business. I cannot speak of the matter on this paper lest the message get intercepted. Just know that this business is of great importance, or I would not leave you behind. Tell Trenok that he is to be acting chieftain until my return. Make sure the power doesn't go to his head; I still want my tribe when I come back. I will send an eagle when I know of my return date. Try not to fuck any of my men while I'm gone. Or do, see if I give a shit. Yours always and forever, Brock."
I looked over the ruins one more time.
Orcs don't just fucking disappear.
I withdrew a satchel from my waist, gasped a fistful of powder, and flung it onto the rocks. The ruins glowed neon green, signaling the magic born within.
A portal.
I ran through the forest as fast as I could until I reached the edge. I made my way to the nearest town and flashed my credentials to the stable boy. I gave him a note for one-hundred gold pieces backed by the Bentius Bank before mounting his fastest steed. Before I left, I sent two letters out by eagle: one to Bentius, and one to the elven embassy in Ardeni Dreus. Yavara was in the clutches of Zander Fredeon and Brock Terdini, and they were in the human capital. I was two days' ride from Ardeni Dreus, a day and a half if I rode the horse to death without stopping. I kicked my spurs into the horse's side and urged it forward.
ZANDER
"I'm not going to fucking Ardeni Dreus!" Brock roared as he crammed supplies into our bags. "The last time I was there, some dwarf tried to fist-fuck me! The Great Forest is quiet, peaceful and full of unsuspecting victims. Ardeni Dreus is loud, violent, and every mother fucker there is just waiting to stab you in the back. Fuck Ardeni Dreus, and fuck you, Zander!"
Yavara suppressed a giggle at Brock's anger. I stood with my arms crossed, also trying not to laugh as the orc roared his protests while compliantly packing our bags.
"No Zander, you might bat from both sides of the plate, but I don't swing that way! Call me old fashioned, but having bearded midgets stick their gauntlet fists up my shitter doesn't sound like my idea of a good time."
"Isn't it funny how homophobes think gay men are always trying to fuck them?" I mused to Yavara.
"One might think they have suppressed fantasies." Yavara tittered.
"I hope you're not packing your prejudice in those bags, Brock; we won't have room for anything else."
