"Pieces of Ella: Part Three" by Steven Lee Mull

Sleep tugged at the edges of Ella’s consciousness long before her duties were finished for the day. After helping to deliver a neighbor’s baby, she had been allowed to return that evening to help cook supper for the family as well. This was more opportunity than chore as she was able to bake biscuits and boil up some broth for the new mother. Ella usually got stuck peeling yaggar roots or some other tuber for hours at a time. Not that there was that much of a demand for such food. Rather, it was a punishment for one offence or another, most often involving her ‘smart mouth’.

A more coveted reward had awaited her up stairs. Murie had allowed Ella to hold her newborn for a few precious moments. Raida had probably told the new mother of Ella’s magical help with the birthing. He was so soft and smelled faintly like sweet chauka leaves. This was a result of his human blood since most of their infants had a similar scent. Under the mother-in-law’s harsh stare, the child began rooting for a teat. Ella kissed the boy lightly and handed him back to his mother. Murie put him to her breast. He latched on, feeding in earnest.

Perhaps the hardest thing to learn when Ella had come to live with her adopted family was handling the emotions a dark elf child was taught to repress while in the underworld. At first, identifying them was difficult enough. Now, four years later, she could indulge in what she had come to call a ‘perfect stanza in life’. This could be mastering a difficult tune or a romp through the forest with Quin. It could be a sly cut with her dagger or something like this, watching a newborn suckle. In any case, it was a moment when everything seemed to fit seamlessly. This was definitely part of her softer side that she rarely showed outside of her home.

Her indulgence was interrupted by the husband’s mother when she asked when dinner would be ready, hinting that Ella should go back down stairs. The old crone never liked Ella much. Many of the older residents of Looking Glass township lost friends or relatives to dark elf raids. That Ella’s original family had been slaughtered by the same dark elven forces made little difference in their minds.

Now, late in the evening, Ella dove into her last task of the day. With a carefully selected volume tucked under her arm, she climbed into Quin’s lap for another reading lesson. He had learned to decipher surface common with few problems. But that was a language developed by merchants and other travelers so tended to be simple and direct. Tonight the lesson was in sylvan with a totally different alphabet and syntax. It was designed to be a little more elegant rather than purely utilitarian. Despite her fatigue, Ella showed great patience as her adopted father struggled with some of the larger words.

The little black elf had come to accept that she not only had many uses for her half sylvan ranger but that she had come to adore him as much as he loved her. This fact alone would have thoroughly galled her birth parents. That she wore the clothing of a sylvan elf and kept many of their customs probably made them roll in their graves. The possibility of her new life torturing the people responsible for having her starved and beaten through half her childhood gave Ella a great thrill. She sighed wistfully when she realized how deep down in her, there was yet a dark elf who enjoyed pain and chaos. Ella only hoped it would never turn against her present family.

Reading time ended with a hug but as Ella slid out of Quin’s lap a tingling feeling from the top of her head all the way down to her toes stopped her. The girl knew with dead certainty what she must do. “Tree man, when you go out along the river tomorrow, take your plant protection charm.”

“Why do you want me to do that, kitten? And how do you know I’m going in that direction?” Quin inclined his head slightly to meet his daughter’s gaze. He knew very well how she did.

Ella’s tone was solemn, her petite face a study in sincerity. “I do not know. Something is going to happen and I know you will need it.”

“Is this one of your feelings?” She had all of Quin’s attention.

Looking around, Ella lowered her voice. Some of her talents upset Marian. Fortunately, her adopted mother was putting her adopted brothers to bed in the side room. “Yes. I feel something trying to hurt you and others as the sun rises and many of them are plants. I don’t know any more but take your good axe too. And do not get killed.”

“I’ll do my best not too.” Quin grinned and ran his fingers through Ella’s silvery hair. “Better get off to bed. You’ve had a long day.”

With another quick hug Ella dashed off to the stairs leading to her cellar bedroom. A spot bath in the water room and she would be ready for some serious sleep. She limped slightly after shucking off her boots. Her left leg was a quarter inch shorter, the result of it being shattered by a religious zealot not long after her arrival here. Quin had rescued her from the cage she was held in after killing several of the fanatics.

Marian came in while Ella was coaxing some hot water out of a wall fixture. Water cascaded down over their heads as the house matron turned on the spigots overhead. The whole town’s water system was left over from when Dread Keep occupied this spot long ago.

Ella squealed. She hadn’t planed on getting soaked. Marian soaped her daughter’s hair and scrubbed her back. Ella wasn’t too old yet for someone to make sure she was taking care of herself. The girl returned the favor, climbing up on a ledge and lathering Marian’s hard to reach places. Sylvan elf families often bathed together the same way they ate together. They were a tight knit people to whom family and children were everything in this world.

Marian followed Ella into her room to tuck her in. Ella didn’t even bother to hang her enchanted cloak on its regular hook. Critter settled on the bed as Ella slipped between freshly washed blankets. Marian kneeled beside her daughter, placing her hands midway along Ella’s back. The half-sylvan woman felt carefully for knotted or strained mussels. She didn’t have to search long. Following guidance from local healers, she pressed nerve centers and stroked painful cords of flesh until the stress drained from the little girls form.

“You need to see a proper healer tomorrow. It also wouldn’t hurt if you were a bit easier on yourself.”

“I am alright.” Ella protested mildly. That gave way to deep moans as her mother worked down her maimed leg then with a deft move of both hands, popped the girl’s lower spine. Despite the build up sole Dom had fitted Ella’s left boot with, her knees bent at different levels. This put more of a strain on the girl’s lower body the further she walked.

“Yes, you certainly sound alright.” Skepticism laced her words but playful little slap across Ella’s bottom.

Ella rolled over, giggling.

Marian lay beside her daughter for a time to cuddle with her and talk. “You were brave today, kitten.”

“I have climbed harder things. The saplings on rambling point swing back and forth but if I time it right I can swing from one to another. I’ve made five across before falling.” Ella’s sleepy eyes widened some with pride.

Marian cringed, trying to cover the guttural response with a stretch. “Think I’m awfully glad I didn’t see that, honey. But what I am talking about is your helping Murie’s child into this world. Without your spell weaving, they would both most likely be dead. You took a big risk casting in plane sight of the whole town. Anyone or everyone could have seen you.”

Rolling onto her back, Ella pursed her lips then let out a long breath. “People are used to me playing music. Not many know what I can do with my spell songs.”

“Not all of them are as foolish as they act, dear. Some one could make a lucky guess. They could talk about it. That could bring the knight priests back with questions.” Marian brushed a few stray silver locks from Ella’s face then caressed her silky black cheek.

“I would not let them hurt my family or me again. I can hurt them now!” Ella frowned at the ceiling as she remembered vividly how the followers of Angar Hiest had ambushed Dom, Marian and Her.

“And how many innocent people might suffer, kitten? What if they sent too many soldiers?”

Ella rolled back over to face her mother, regret etched faintly on her fine features. “I’m sorry. I’ll be more careful.”

Marian pulled her oldest daughter close to snuggle for a few more moments. With a kiss on the fore head and a nightly prayer, she said good night. Climbing the stairs back to the main floor, Marian was reasonably sure Ella would exorcise more caution for at least a day, maybe two.

The dark elf girl drifted into a trance, unaware of both a thunder storm moving in from the east or the blood read eyes that watched lovingly from within the hood of her cloak. Ella was so tired she lay like a stone for some hours dreaming of her younger brothers playing in a nearby glade.

Not for the first time, Quin was glad he had heeded a warning from his daughter. He, his cousin Farhon and another sylvan ranger called Dandral had ridden out before daybreak. They hadn’t been traveling more than an hour or two when the sounds of fighting reached them. They raced over a bluff to see goblins driving a large pack of creatures attacking a small group of wagons. As the rangers drew closer, Quin saw that the goblins were not using common war animals. Fangtrags looked like distant kin to tumbleweeds but semi-intelligent with poison quills and an attitude to mach their toxic sap.

Of the half dozen fighters protecting the tiny caravan only three were standing when the rangers pitched in on their side. Quin and his rangers had dismounted, not wanting to risk their horses. Farhon and Dandral waded into the fangtrags with falcions. The broad bladed weapons were keenly effective against the plant creatures and goblins alike.

Quin preferred a bearded axe. This was a working man’s weapon and at that moment he was working it hard having already downed two goblins. The fangtrag facing him now was hesitant to close. When first it tried, it’s outer branches began to wither as they contacted the field put out by Quin’s plant charm. A few swings of the bearded axe severed a couple of healthy branches as well. Although fangtrags were not particularly intelligent, they were not suicidal.

Two of the teamsters had gotten the bright idea to use torches to defend themselves and their wagons. They were busy making a charging fangtrag into a bonfire. A number of others sported scorch marks. One more had been reduced to a pile of smoldering ash.

Seeing that their fangtrags weren’t doing the job, goblins started flanking to the right of Quin. He had two poor choices. The chief ranger could leave his side unprotected and hope the goblins weren’t good enough to exploit it, or he could fall back and lose ground.

Quin wasn’t given time to decide. A fighter came to stand beside him with long sword and shield. By his armor, he had to be a holy knight, perhaps even a paladin. It was difficult to tell the way his helmet fit but Quin was almost certain this fellow was a gold elf.

The elf cut a neat figure eight through a fangtrag, leaving it to fall in four equal pieces. He followed up by shield bashing a goblin square in the face. The unfortunate creature fell back into one of his fangtrags. That was the end of him as he lay writhing, three poison quills protruding from his back. Quin and the golden elf continued holding their side. Eventually, they pushed forward and crushed the last of the fangtrags between them.

Just then, fate took a vicious turn. The golden elf held down one monster plant with his shield as he raised his sword for a final blow. Apparently he had no idea fangtrags could spit poison a short distance. He went down screaming, holding his eyes.

Quin finished the beast then tossed a hand axe with his free hand into the last opponent facing him. The blade caught the goblin square in its forehead. He fell like a sack of yaggar roots. Quin jumped back to where his gold elf alley had fallen.

He was still screaming while holding his eyes. The poor wretch had managed to remove his helmet. Quin used his water skin to wash the stricken elf’s eyes. This quieted him so the ranger could get a better look at his wound. It hadn’t been a direct strike. Judging from the trail of yellowish liquid on the shoulder and upper arm of the knight’s armor, that is were the attack was centered.

A human woman came and helped tend the fallen elf. When he had calmed more, she introduced him as Berdanthal and as Quin had guessed, he was a paladin. Quin apologized for the rude welcome to his province then took off to search for the lead teamster.

Quin stopped, seeing Farhon and Dandral watching a far hill. The chief ranger followed their gaze to a shadowy figure a stride one of the largest steeds he had ever seen. As the enemy leader turned to ride away his hood fell back. There was no mistaking what he was, a hobgoblin.

They were good tacticians and excellent warriors. Hobgoblins were often used in mercenary armies as patrol and raider captains. This was a dangerous opponent. Quin thought about getting his horse to run down the ambush leader but in a heartbeat and a cloud of dust, he was gone.