The flight into Rillwynn was uneventful, although, Deadrick couldn’t help but remember the things he knew about the Elves and their mysterious homeland.
They were the only race the dragons kept in contact with after the first war of Kandrakah, the closest ancestors to the first race to inhabit Kandrakah, ‘the perfect ones’. They rarely ventured from their homeland, and didn’t interfere with the wars of men.
Their homeland was protected by an enchanted border, through which only people who meant no harm to its inhabitants could enter. Should one try to cross it with malice in mind, their souls would be ripped from their bodies and left to burn in the lands of the dead.
Even though he knew that he would be fine, the crossing over still made him feel uneasy.
“We can’t just drop it straight into the middle of them,” Nerui said, “They may be my family, but they may just kill us on sight,”
“Charming,” Danyel mumbled.
“If we put it down a few metres away, they’ll send a scout or two to find out who we are,” Nerui continued, “Okay, over there!”
Nerui pointed to a space between two tall, winding trees with colourful hanging vines. Deadrick carefully manoeuvred the ship between them, and Nerui dampened the flame.
The Ghost of The Inquisitor shuddered as the ship scraped along a thick tree trunk, before moving away and slowly descending to the floor.
Deadrick went to climb over the side to the ladder.
“Wait…” Danyel said, Deadrick stopped, his foot on the first rung. He shot a look at Danyel.
“What?” He asked.
“Well, the last time we landed in the middle of a forest clearing, we got surrounded by a pack of werewolves,” Danyel explained. Bruad narrowed his eyes.
“Don’t be stupid, the forests of Rillwynn are a tranquil place, and my home-“ Nerui was interrupted by a whistle- the whistle of a spray of arrows that struck the dragonhead, splintering small chunks away.
Danyel looked a Nerui with a satisfied grin as there came a yell from the trees.
“You!” A voice came, followed by the sound of hooves.
Into the clearing rode four Elves riding graceful, horse like creatures, with long, powerful and agile legs. And silver haired tails that whipped the air around them. They each wielded hand made bows, with arrows aimed squarely at Deadrick.
“Who are you?” The Elf that had spoken before demanded, “Speak quickly or die,”
Deadrick stepped off of the ladder, watched closely by the hawk like eyes of the Elves. Before he could speak, Nerui leant over the side of the ship.
“Niath… sei meriel Nerui!” She yelled in Elven to the elf.
The Elf looked up, cocking his head slightly.
“Nerui? Nerui!” The Elf smiled, he jumped from his mount and ran to the ladder, Nerui climbed down and threw herself into his arms. He looked incredible in stature to her, Elf women were all very slight, but the males averaged about seven foot tall, with great, toned limbs. They were a very beautiful race.
“Deileyn... sanathi haithi merline!” The elf said happily.
“Merline… merline haithi,” Nerui replied.
Deadrick was entirely fluent in Elven, and understood everything that Nerui and Niath were saying, but he waited for Nerui to remember that he was still there to do anything.
She turned to him and smiled.
“Deadrick- everybody, this is Niath. We were good friends when I was a child,” She said, glee in her voice.
Niath stepped forward and bowed his head to Deadrick, who watched him carefully. He was a tall man, but the Elves were much taller- he didn’t like things that were more imposing than him.
“We need help, Niath,” Nerui told him.
“You have been gone a long time, Nerui, the clan has gone through much trouble and strife since you departed. Do not expect it to be the way you remember it,” Niath explained.
“I understand,” Nerui replied.
With that, Niath climbed onto his mount and ordered two of the other riders to go ahead to the camp. They rode away, disappearing into the trees.
“The camp is a short journey through the trees, this way,”