He seldom found the chance to leave the concerns of office behind, but for several weeks his duties had been light. He decided to give himself leave to enjoy the land he ruled. He was strolling though the forest when he paused, backed up slowly, and murmured the incantation that took him into the Embrace of Sielwode.
Elf magic allowed his race to take temporary shelter within the huge trees of the forest. They most often used this ability to prevent frightening the forest creatures, and to observe the animals as they went about their daily lives.
From within his camouflage, Drien watched a family of rabbits that had hopped into sight around a bend in the forest trail. The large female appeared first, and following her were three youngsters, getting their first experience of the world outside the burrow. Their eyes stretched wide as they gazed at the trees and the thick undergrowth that walled in both sides of the path.
Two paces from the tree where Drien hid, a small brook crossed the trail. The mother rabbit led her family to the edge and lowered her head to drink. The first youngling watched and put out a tentative paw to investigate this moving strangeness. It drew back, shaking the paw, but was cuffed back to the stream by its mama. The second, after watching the experience of the first, edged closer, touched its tongue to the water, and obediently drank.
The third, who had stopped to bat at a leaf that had been wafted along the trail by the breeze, watched the other two and decided this newness was something to be enjoyed to the fullest. He gave a leap and landed in the brook in three inches of water. With a shriek of terror, he leapt out and scuttled behind his mother.
Like any good parent, the mother rabbit knew when her child had learned a lesson. She turned and licked his face, removing the water from his eyes as she reassured him. She pressed her soft dry fur against his wet side until he stopped trembling. He needed no instruction to rid himself of the excess water. He shook himself, and she turned her head to keep from being struck in the face by the flying drops.
When the kits had finished their drink, she led the way a few feet upstream to where the cowslips were thick on the ground. She was just passing over the first plant when she gave a squeal and was whipped into the air in a cunningly laid snare.
Drien’s keen elf hearing had heard the snapping of her neck, and before he could step from the Embrace, she had stopped kicking. He stood for a moment and stared, disbelieving, at the snare. Shock, disbelief, and anger chased each other through his mind. For a moment, he thought of trying to revive the mother rabbit, but she was dead, and no elf magic could bring back life. Nor would Drien want to, since it would be against the will of nature.
On the ground, the three kits were in tharn; fear had frozen their minds and bodies, a state nature gave them to keep away the torture of terror and impending death.
Drien opened the pouch at his waist, dumped out the berries he had picked on his walk, and scooped up the young rabbits. They were old enough to eat and drink, else the mother would not have brought them out of the burrow. They could be saved.
When the kits were safely stored in the bag and Drien had trotted a quarter of a mile from the stream, he whistled a soft birdcall. Five minutes later, he saw movement ahead. Trialien, a young warrior in training, was also enjoying the forest on a day away from her training. She had raced to the whistled call for assistance and stopped, dipping her head respectfully to the lord of Sielwode.
Drien handed her the pouch as he told her what he had seen. Inside the silken bag, the kits had come out of tharn and were struggling against their confinement.
“Goblins, orogs, or gnolls this far into Sielwode, my lord?” Trialien gazed at Drien with wide eyes.
“I’ve never known the humanoids to set such cunning traps,” Drien replied with a frown. “I passed it by without seeing it.”
Both elves paused to consider the implications. Elves were naturally sharp eyed and knew their forest with an intimacy unimagined by other races. The trail was one of Lord Drien’s favorite walks. His memories held the height of every tree, the exact width of the streams in wet weather and dry. As he passed through the wood, he even noted the movement of the fallen leaves as the wind stirred them about.
Yet he had not seen the trap.
“When you cross Laughing Brook, give a call for warriors,” he instructed her. “I return to see who comes for the dead rabbit.”
Trialien’s eyes darkened with worry for her lord, but she nodded and turned away, racing through the forest.
Drien retraced his steps, far more cautiously than on his usual strolls. Back at the stream, he waited for the elves who would be joining him within the hour. They would not arrive in time, he realized as he heard a low voice and the breaking of twigs.
He entered the Embrace of Sielwode and watched as two creatures came into sight. They were part humanoid, part animal, as if some twisted imagination had brought its nightmares to life. Their legs and feet, arms and hands were thick and sturdy—humanoid. They stumped up toward the snare. The tallest was slender in body, with a long, tapering face and a blunt nose, reminiscent of a deer’s. A rack of antlers stood up from its skull. Its expression was malignant, bearing no kinship with the timid forest creatures.
The other was shorter and stouter, with a large head and tiny eyes. It had the snout and tusks of a boar. Their bodies were covered with fur, and they wore no clothing, but both carried spears. Around their waists were belts hung with pouches and knives in sheaths.
They spoke a strange language, one unknown to Drien. Judging by their tones, they were disgusted that they had caught only a rabbit. The tallest reached up and pulled the snare down, removed the rabbit, and tossed it away. The other snarled and picked up the carcass. It stood watching while its companion reset the snare. They turned back in the direction they had come.
When they were out of sight, Drien left the protection of the Embrace. He took time to spring the snare before following the intruders through the forest.
The lord and principal protector of Sielwode had found it hard not to kill the creatures when they first appeared, but he thought it more important to discover if there were more of them and where they made their camp. From the rabbit’s snare, the beast-men pushed their way through the undergrowth, avoiding the easier travel on the forest trails as they traversed a set course, moving from one trap to another. In one they had caught a fox, and in two others they had snared deer, both caught by the necks, which hung broken and limp when taken from the traps.
As Drien followed, one, two, and in time a score of warrior elves came up behind him. They obeyed his gestured orders to remain out of sight and silent as they trailed the beast-men. They tripped the snares as they passed. The invaders would kill no more creatures of the forest if the elves could prevent it.
More than forty warriors had joined their lord by the time the misshapen trespassers reached a ramshackle village that had been built between two low hills in the forest.
As he stood sheltered by the trees, Drien saw the destruction of part of his forest, and rage nearly blinded him. Dozens of ancient trees had been cut, the white of their stumps weeping sap. Any one of the forest monarchs would have provided enough timber for the entire village, but the beast-men had cut dozens just to use the smaller limbs.
The buildings were ramshackle affairs. Logs had been driven into the ground and stood more or less upright. The walls were horizontal logs, placed one atop the other and tied in place with vines. The roofs were logs laid across and covered with leafy branches.
To his left, twenty beast-men were hacking limbs from a tree and carrying the timber into a hole in the side of the hill, a mine of some sort.
Drien forced himself to be still until his mind cleared of his rage and he could think clearly. He watched the activity of the village, moving from tree to tree until he could accurately estimate the number of invaders. A hundred, possibly more. How had so many of the creatures invaded Sielwode, and how had they avoided discovery?