Of Gods and Elves - By Brian D. Anderson Page 0,26

Though Jacob moved with uncanny speed, he was no match for Malstisos.

“Come now, boy,” Malstisos taunted. “Certainly you can do better.”

This infuriated Jacob and he ran headlong at the elf, slashing maniacally. Malstisos ducked quickly, spun around, and brought his heel into the back of the boy’s knee. Jacob’s leg collapsed, and he fell hard on his back. Malstisos stepped on Jacob's blade, trapping it. Jacob struggled to pull the blade free, but Malstisos bent down, pressing his knee on Jacob’s throat.

“You have passion,” said Malstisos. “But no discipline.”

Jacob bucked and twisted, but Malstisos only pressed harder. Slowly, Jacob stopped struggling and relaxed. After a moment, Malstisos released him and held out his hand, but Jacob only glared, his eyes filled with hate and anger.

“Take my hand, young one,” said the elf. “The fight is done. You have lost, but there is no shame. You did well considering your lack of training.”

Jacob reached up, took Malstisos' hand, and allowed the elf to pull him to his feet. He brushed himself off and retrieved his sword.

“Now if we are done with all this foolishness,” said Maybell. “We have distance to cover.”

“That we do,” agreed Millet. “If we quicken our pace, you and Malstisos should be able to reach Manisalia in three days.”

“As we are no longer followed, that should be easy,” added Malstisos. He took another look at Jacob, who was mounting his horse. “It appears you are uninjured.”

“I'm fine,” Jacob grumbled. “It takes more than that to hurt me.”

“I do not doubt your toughness,” said Malstisos. “But mind your pride and your anger. It will be your undoing if you are not careful.”

“That comes from his father,” said Millet. “He was the same way.”

“I'm nothing like him,” said Jacob.

Millet shook his head sadly. “I know you must think he abandoned you and your mother. But he only left to protect you. One day you'll understand.”

“Then explain it to me,” said Jacob in disgust.

“It is not my place,” said Millet. “Your father is the only one who can reveal his motives. For me, to do so would be a betrayal.”

Jacob sniffed and turned his horse. The others followed close behind.

The rest of the day the group traveled without speaking, and when they made camp, Jacob slept far away from the others. Millet tried to convince him to come closer to the fire, but he was met with cold silence.

The next morning snow began to fall. Gently, at first, but by midday it was well on its way to becoming a full-blown blizzard.

Millet shivered. “If this gets much worse, I'm afraid we will freeze to death long before we reach Manisalia.”

Malstisos nodded in agreement and glanced back at Maybell, who was slumped in her saddle with her coat and a blanket wrapped tightly around her.

They trudged on for several hours, until they were virtually frozen. About an hour before dark Malstisos motioned for everyone to stop.

“There is a large group of humans ahead,” said Malstisos. “They have many horses and wagons.”

“Could be a merchant caravan,” suggested Millet.

“Or soldiers,” said Jacob.

Malstisos slid out of his saddle. “Wait here.” With that, he disappeared into the brush.

“I'm hoping for merchants,” said Maybell, rubbing her arms. “We can barter for a place by a fire.”

Millet nodded in agreement.

By the time Malstisos returned, the snow was coming down in earnest. “Merchants,” he announced. “Ten wagons strong. And something else...” His face wore a strange expression.

“What is it?” asked Millet.

“There are elves among them. I didn't notice their presence until I was nearly upon them, but there is no mistake.”

“What difference does that make?” asked Jacob. “At least you don't have to hide.”

“You don't understand,” said Malstisos. “In the west, there are places we have dealings with humans. But as far as I know, no such alliances exist here.”

“Did they know you were there?” asked Millet.

“I don't think so. But I cannot be certain.”

“What should we do?” asked Maybell.

Malstisos shrugged. “What choice do we have? Winter has come early, and we are not prepared for this type of weather. If we don't seek shelter we will freeze to death.”

Millet sighed heavily and urged his horse forward. The caravan was camped a quarter of a mile away in a large clearing on the north side of the road. Several large canvas tents stood in a semi-circle, and a half dozen cooking fires flickered in the center. At least three dozen men and women, wrapped in thick coats, were busy preparing the evening meal. As they came closer, two cloaked