It's always the same - like a heavy fog before the autumn sunrise: darkness before light, pale on the horizon, silhouettes of jagged mountain ridges beyond shadowed valleys which become seas of mist. 

Distant islands bear life up out of the depths, barely discernible amid the fog. nbsp; The closer they are, the darker they become, until the forest is black against a bright sky.  All living things are entangled with each other in this place, inseparable, indistinguishable.  There are so few things here that are not alive.  So those few things stand out like great plinths jutting from the plain.

Yet, this was no mere outcropping.  Its placement was deliberate.  Its construction intricate.  One might think those who built it almost human, but there was very little human about it - unless you consider what it was made of.

Like any other I had seen, this sign was made mostly of humanoid bones, stained ochre by some dark art.  Other animal bones are sometimes present as well, included apparently as they fit, without regard to the animal they came from.  A central pillar of wood supported a weathered skull, from which was suspended an intricate weaving of sinewy braids and interlocking ribs, arm bones, leg bones, and vertebrae as ornaments.  The knot-work was beautiful, but stained and blood encrusted.  It was like some totem of a sinister tribe, but its meaning had become clear: "Trespassers beware.".

Any time I have seen one of these, the experience has been chilling...

This time was no different, as the totem was directly in my path.  The pole that supported it was implanted in the middle of a stream.  My path continued on the opposite bank.  The warning was understood.  I paused to consider the landscape and look for alternate routes.

The scent of fresh water flowing over stones and through the reeds was welcome, though when the wind shifted, a thin but sharp stench of rotting flesh was borne on its currents.  Some parts of the totem seemed fresher than others...

The valley narrowed inland, eventually becoming a ravine through which a narrow trail wound over the curves of the foothills and up to the ridge.  Though I knew the path, I hadn't been this way in years, and was surprised to find the Eldarin marker. 
 
I hesitated, but found there was really no option.  I had seen several Uzumbhai hunting deer by the outer perimeter of the fields at Yellow Hill Hold.  It would be only a matter of time before they caught my scent, so I had moved fast.  True to form, they had begun to pursue.  They had taken advantage of the cover of the fog to cover ground quickly, but were easy enough to spot on the exposed trails if I watched long enough.  Near the tree line, they were careful to move from shadow to shadow, but as the trail passed under the lush green foliage of the tangled wood, they were obscured entirely. 

When it seemed the hills or trees would hide my changes, I did what I could to confuse the Uzumbhai hunters.  After a long loop back, I had hoped to use the stream to hide my trail.  I slogged more than a few kilometers upstream, mostly in the water, but sometimes on the bank on one side or the other.  It seemed like a good idea at the time, but the Uzumbhai seemed to be able to read the water itself.  I realized, after wasting much time and energy, that the silt I disturbed as I struggled against the stream showed them my course as clearly as if I had left them directions.  They pursued on both sides of the bank and called with quiet voices that echoed through the narrowing passage like coyotes in the night when they found my tracks.  They were getting closer, swift and tireless, while I was not as quick, and was already straining.  I began to consider materials for making traps as I approached the crossing.  Though my weapons were superior to the Uzumbhai javelin and obsidian knife, their speed and reputation for inhuman ferocity suggested another course of action.

So, the Eldarin totem was not exactly what I wanted to see at the moment.  Whether I would be allowed to pass was questionable, and the Eldarin were not to be crossed.  On the other hand, there was no question that the Uzumbhai would not be allowed through.

I stepped into the stream, and crossed slowly, giving wide berth to the totem, then returned to the trail at the other side.  I paused for a moment, took a deep breath, and closed my eyes in reflection.  I had unfinished business.  There were people I needed to see again.  The path before me, plunging into the shaded forest of the upper valley, presented no guarantee of safety.  Hope felt terrible in my heart, but I could not stop here.  I could hear the calls of the Uzumbhai behind me, echoing, closer and closer.

I walked forward into the shade, opening my eyes slowly, so that they adjusted quickly to the darkness.  The smell of the forest was of rich earth, fresh growth, and also decaying leaves and rotting wood.  The leaves seemed to absorb not only light but also sound from beyond the forest canopy, so that the world seemed a much smaller place.  Bird chirps and calls echoed, and there was shuffling of leaves and twigs were some small animal moved past.  Yet, as I walked the path, as evenly and quietly as possible, I was aware of movement around me.  Shadowed figures moved toward the perimeter of the forest, paralleling my course, but in the opposite direction.  They moved soundlessly, and seemed to disappear as soon as I glanced in their direction.

The path turned up a short slope and then switched back, so I had a clear view back to where it entered the forest.  I paused to look back for a moment, but decided not to wait for the hunters.  When I turned back to my way, I was surprised to find an Eldarin warrior standing before me with his dark hand outstretched, palm open toward me, fingers to the sky, clearly commanding that I halt.  I stopped in my tracks, hoping not to offend the warrior, and somewhat at a loss, but also amazed at the intricacy of the tattoo work on his skin and the knot work on his armor and weapons.  He said nothing, but lowered his hand, and with the other, raised a composite-limbed compound bow and quiver of arrows toward me, with open palm facing upward.  He gestured slowly with his free hand, seeming to indicate that I take the bow, and then extended it further toward me.  I accepted both bow and quiver, intently watching his stern face for a sign of meaning.  He had already begun to gesture again, drawing my attention back to the place where the trail entered the forest, and again to the bow, and back to the path, open palmed, calmly, as if opening a door for me and offering me passage.

I took his meaning well enough, slung the quiver over my shoulder, knocked an arrow quickly, and took a deep breath.  The sound of Uzumbhai feet splashing in the stream was faint.  They may have considered the totem a curiosity, but would have been undeterred by its presence.  Their voices called in long, quiet howls, barks, and chirps or growls, as if in conversation - as if they knew they were trespassing at the threshold of Eldarin territory.

Several figures appeared at the trail entrance, dark silhouettes against the light beyond.  I raised the bow and drew it in one motion, letting the tension settle, and lowering my aim toward the Uzumbhai hunters.  The Eldarin warrior beside me had his hand up in a waiting gesture, so I waited.  The first group of Uzumbhai entered the forest slowly, proceeding forward and adjusting to the darkness, then a second group entered more confidently.  I glanced at the Eldarin, and he lowered his hand slowly toward the Uzumbhai, as a knife cutting downward.  I re-focused, targeted the center of mass of the last Uzumbhai, released half of the air in my lungs, held my breath, and let the arrow fly.  I ignored it's course, found and knocked a second arrow, and tracked the movement of the Uzumbhai.  I saw the first hunter falter while I was marking my next target, but the Uzumbhai were already falling faster than I could mark them.  The one I had hit was beginning to rise again, so I let another arrow fly, and reached for a third.  Yet, as I was knocking it, the Eldarin halted me, reached out to hold the arrow near its tip, and pressed a small vial of greasy-looking paste against the bladed-point.  He then released the arrow and gestured toward the Uzumbhai hunter, who seemed completely unaffected by the second arrow.  I marked him, drew, and let the third arrow fly.  It struck him squarely in the chest, near the others, penetrating as deeply, but the hunter quickly faltered and collapsed, this time failing to rise again.

I lowered the bow, greatly relieved, but still watching the entrance to the forest.  Several figures emerged from the forest near the fallen Uzumbhai.  They used rods to manipulate the bodies of the hunters for binding to long spits, taking care not to come into direct contact, then bore them out of the forest.  Some even removed the soil that the Uzumbhai had polluted and bore it out of the forest as well.

I held the bow toward the Eldarin warrior, with my palm open and facing upward, as I had seem him do, and was lifting the quiver over my shoulder when he again bade me halt.  He gestured to the bow, then to me, then made a pause gesture, but as if pushing toward me.  So, I slung the bow over my shoulder as well, and made a gesture of thanks.  I was beginning to wonder why no words had been used to this point, and why I hadn't thought to speak, but the warrior directed my attention to the path I had been walking.  I turned toward the path, and realized that it was not the path itself that he directed me to, but another Eldarin waiting for me.  The warrior gestured me forward, and raised his hand in open palm farewell, a gesture I returned.  He started toward the area of the fray, moving with the speed and strength of a panther.

Turning back to the Eldarin on the path, I made the open palm gesture in greeting.  She smiled, seemingly amused, and returned the gesture, but also spoke in a thickly accented tongue I eventually recognized as my own Amanglic, "The warrior caste has little need for speech.  Their work is done with stealth and silence.  I am a speaker, but I have been sent to guide you as well."

"Thank you.  I'm a courier, from the Dragon Lake Hold.  Sometimes, that is.  I used to live at the Anderson Free Hold, when they were still free."

"I know of both places, and a few people of the Free Hold.  Come, let us walk."  She gestured toward the trail ahead.

She walked slightly ahead and to one side on the narrow path, asking and answering questions and telling tales of her people and people from the holds, some of whom were friends of mine from long ago.  She glanced sideways from time to time, drawing my attention with her liquid black eyes.  Her long, dark hair was braided and held back with bands of the same material as her armor, carbon-black, and embossed in the knot-work style of the warrior's.  Yet, her armor was lighter, possibly ornamental.  Her tattoos were striking as well, but were very different from those of the warrior: subtly visible on her face, elegant on her neck and shoulders, incredibly intricate on her arms, legs, and back, everywhere varied from dark to light, and sometimes colored like henna. 

She was armed with a long-knife, worn openly across her back on a band of black knot-work.  The shape of the fluted blade was fascinating by itself, but the runic script, inlaid with darkly iridescent metal, and the binding of the pommel which extended slightly over her left shoulder, were exquisite.  She seemed at ease, and completely in her element, so I began to relax as we walked.

Some of her questions were ordinary, regarding mutual friends, especially of the Free Hold.  Other questions were strange.  She clearly understood that our cultures were different, but seemed to find it difficult to relate.  She asked about my tribe, what caste I belonged to, and the hierarchy of my order.  I wasn't sure how to answer, so I told her about the Dragon Lake hold and people that lived there, and about the work they did and trade with other holds, and about their council.  It seemed that she was able to translate some of my answer into her own terms.  She described her tribe as a seed of the main line, taking root in the fertile hills some distance from their original home, like many others of her kind.  She spoke of her caste and a few others, including the warriors, but I understood few of the terms she used.  Though she was a speaker, apparently tasked with mastery of languages other than her own, she had no words for certain things, so we learned a few words from each other as we talked.

Eventually, we left the cover of the forest, and emerged into a terraced valley, where some of her people drew water for irrigation of the many ripening rows of vibrant and colorful plants.  At a distance, it was difficult to tell, but I would guess that they were tattooed and armed as was the speaker.  The faintest evidence of sentry posts could be seen on hillocks surrounding the region. 

When we came to the place the path descended from the upper valley, and could see the Dragon Lake in the distance, she bade farewell and welcomed me to return.  She told me that as long as I carried the bow of the Eldarin warrior, I would be recognized as a friend among her people.  I started to suggest that she and her tribe visit the Dragon Lake hold, but was embarrassed, as we both seemed to know that was not a good idea.  Instead, she returned to the forest and I made my way down to the lake. 

My ikayak remained where I had left it, so I turned it over and removed the snakes that had made it their home in my absence.  I stowed my gear, and pushed out into the open water, relieved to be paddling for the Lake hold.  It was already well past mid-day, and pale mist rose from the surface of the rippling water, hanging in the air above me and cooling my skin.  The prow of my boat cut swiftly through the water, casting a bow wave outward to be swamped by the chaos of reflections already spanning the surface.  It would be evening before I could dry my gear and find my bunk, but my job was done, no Uzumbhai hunted me, and I had met an amazing people that few have seen face to face and lived to tell the tale.