CHAPTER 9

The sun was setting on the third day of their ascent up the mountain. They had had to leave the horses behind two days earlier because of the treacherous climb. They had made camp and ate a couple of rabbits that Enrico and Gilchrist had shot with their pistols and they settled down with Garrick taking first watch.

Higher up the mountain, a pair of lavender eyes stared intently at the fire below. "By the Gods. They make enough noise to wake the dead with those pistols," Aenarion sighed. "And that campfire--it is so big you can probably see it from Loren itself," Lyndryell added in disgust. "Let's go down and take a better look," Aenarion said as he climbed down the slope towards the fire.

Garrick was alert, the cool mountain air felt good and helped keep him awake. Suddenly he had a feeling, a horrible feeling that he was being watched. He moved his hand very slowly to the shaft of his battle axe, trying to appear as if he didn't expect anything.

The two Elves moved closer to the camp, trying to discern who or what was in the camp. Then, they saw Garrick and Aenarion realized that they were Human, probably Imperial.

Garrick's uneasiness grew until he could take it no longer and he started walking towards the underbrush where Aenarion and Lyndryell were hidden. The two Elves lay perfectly still, as Garrick disappeared from view. "Damn!" Aenarion said, "Where did he..." but he didn't get to finish his sentence as a flurry of movement flashed out of the corner of his eye and Garrick was upon them, axe swinging in a wide arc as Lyndryell dove out of the way. Aenarion was upon him in an instant. Swords blazing, Garrick parried the blows as Lyndryell regained his feet and jumped into the fray. The sounds of battle woke Enrico and brought him quickly to his feet, grabbing his sword and running towards his friend. Garrick was hard pressed by the lightning fast foes and was finding it difficult to keep the slashing swords at bay. Then, he heard what he thought was chanting and a muffled curse about the fickle winds of magic when Enrico appeared, shouting a challenge to the nearest intruder and their swords met with an earsplitting clang of steel on steel. Sword against sword, man against elf, the tide of battle would turn one way and then the other, neither opponent getting the best of the other. Then suddenly, a loud bang echoed through the mountains. So loud, in fact, that the battle stopped and everyone turned to find the source.

It was Gilchrist Hauk, "What in the name of Sigmar is going on here," he said bewildered as he holstered his pistol. "Men fighting Elves. They are not the enemy here." Garrick eyed his opponent warily but did not drop his guard, "If they are not the enemy, then why did they sneak up on us." "Perhaps I can explain," Aenarion said as he sheathed his sword. "We only came to find out who you were, being Human we meant you no harm. Now, if you were Orcs or Goblins on the other hand, it would have been a different story." "My God, have I not been to Luigi & Salvatore's in so long that I am starting to look like a greenskin," Enrico exclaimed indignantly. They all laughed and Garrick invited the Elves back to camp.

Aenarion explained that there was a lot of Goblin activity on the southern side of the mountains and they had come up to find out why. Enrico in turn told of their quest but that they would be glad to help if they could. "Perhaps we can help each other, there is a cave at the top of that mountain to the west. We were about to go in when we saw your fire. It is possible that what you are seeking is in that cave." "Perhaps you are correct," Gilchrist answered, "let us travel together and vanquish the foul demons that infest these cursed mountains and threaten to destroy our homes forever." "Hey, I've got an idea," interjected Enrico, "let's have a toast with a swig of Bugman's Superbrew."