Devil of the Valley: Stalkers

Dyaebl watched Toruviel move through the forest like a startled shadow. If you didn’t keep your eyes right on her, the next moment you lost her. A doe flickers there, a rabbit hops here, but no elven woman in sight. It was a talent he lacked, but then, if one hid from humans, it wasn’t all that hard.
Toruviel hid from something else, and he wanted to know what it was before approaching her. So he did his best to keep up, make no noise, and consider her angles, in case they could help him predict the stalker path.
Elf stopped by a tall tree, one in hundreds out here, really. The only difference between here, and over there was hidden up high, in the branches. Dyaebl watched her climb, memorizing the steps, yet hoping he won’t have to follow up. Tree shelters gave him the wrong kind of peace of mind. And right now he couldn’t trust himself to start moving again, if he stopped. He was tired, and this whole war nonsense was driving him insane. Too many died. Too many holes made in his heart, too many pieces chipped off, too many fine young elves gone forever. And here he was, moving further, deeper into the heart of it all, wishing death upon his own queen.
“That’s what you get for being stupid, and trusting a witch.” – He whispered to himself, and was about to step towards the tree, when he heard the stalker.
He came from his right, clad in green, and black rags, making him as invisible, as humans could be in forests. He held a bow at ready, arrow in his right. Eyes scanning the trees, underbrush. Rising up.
Dyaebl hated catching himself act before his thoughts caught up with him. But that’s what you get when you don’t function right anymore.
He stood up, and swore to himself. During the motion he pressed down the string of his shirt against the tree, and pulled most of it out of the loops.
“Really, this is why I hate elven clothes.” – He muttered.
That all was enough to get the hunter shoot the arrow at him. This is where acting before thinking is okay. Dyaebl ducked, to the right, allowing the arrow space on the left. Hunter was already notching second one tho…
“You’ve a serious death wish, human.” – Dyaebl spoke, trying to dig his voice out of the whisper levels.
He often got hoarse due to not speaking, this was one of those cases too. Yet the hunter heard him, and that was enough.
The man stopped, arrow aimed at him, but string not yet pulled:
“How many of you are here?” – He asked.
“I don’t know.” – Dyaebl answered honestly.
“Who are you?”
“You don’t know?”
Dyaebl pulled his hair behind his ears, allowing full view of his well decorated face. He knew too well how gruesome the damn fake eye looked, large, dark, with that blind sheen only moonstones have. Skin around the eye cracked, scarred, purple. More and more elves lost their famous beauty to this war. The thought nearly made Dyaebl laugh, but this time he stopped himself in time.
“Shit!” – Hunter grunted, and shot the second arrow.
This one scrapped Dyaebl’s shoulder.
“Well, now I’ll have to kill you.”
For all his size, Dyaebl was dexterous. For all the hate he gave to his fake eye, he had the advantage of it too. People stared when it got closer, always, no exceptions. And he saw things in those few precious heartbeats. Things like a twitch in the arm. Movement above.
Elf kicked the man in the chest, sending him backwards, out of the way of an elven arrow.
“Don’t shoot him!” – Dyaebl yelled, not looking up. “This is someone special, I want to ask questions first!”
“Piss on your questions! He stalked me for three days!”
“If he’s not alone, they’ll stalk you for years, not days, dammit!”
“MOVE! Or I’ll shoot right through you!”
“Do!”
Dyaebl stepped forth, putting his foot on man’s chest. He was gasping for air, and from the looks of it, wasn’t much danger for the time being. There was a mark in the tree where his head smashed into it. Keeping him pressed down with his foot, Dyaebl turned, flexing his shoulders, spreading his arms, making himself the bigger target. All the while trying to remember if he heard anything of Toruviel’s skill with bows.
“Well? Brave little squirrel, kill the killers, come on!”
“Fck you, Dyaebl!”
“Get down from there first.”
“…Unarm the bastard, tie him to the tree, then I’ll come down.”
Dyaebl agreed this was a wise request, so he did as asked. Using the time, he rummaged through man’s pockets, of which he had beyond many. Some were full of powders, those Dyaebl cut off completely, and tying them up in his scarf, tucked away into his bag for further inspection in less heated situations.
Toruviel came up behind him, arms crossed on her chest, feet apart, shoulder wide. This one took her soldiering lessons serious.
“Remind me, did you serve under Vernossiel, or did Vernossiel serve under you?” – Dyaebl asked.
“She under me. I don’t know where she is now, if that’s what you’re asking.”
“She’s with Iorveth. One of the four units that responded to his call so far.”
“So far?” – Toruviel’s eyes narrowed. “So not only he lives, he’s uniting commandos?”
“Sort of. You should make way towards Upper Aedirn. You’d be safe there. Relatively safer than out here. They’re crossing from some place over there, built ugly bridges out of beautiful trees.”
“You know I can’t. And don’t even ask. And if you must, ask him things, for I’ll wish to see him dead before the sun’s down.”
This told Dyaebl enough. Toruviel was still trying to get Yaevinn’s senses back. Which then meant Yaevinn lived too. The other question for him to solve was whether he wanted to find the elf or not. Yaevinn was difficult to reason with, possible, but difficult. He was one of those disappointed elves, elves who tried to assimilate a few times, met disdain, and quit it all. He didn’t blame Yaevinn for that, no. But he couldn’t support his far darker course either. And if Iorveth didn’t change his mind, Dyaebl had no chance to do so.
He turned to the grunting man, camouflaged among the greenery. He breathed with difficulty, squinted, and blinked:
“Have mercy, elf. Duel me, kill me, just make it quick.”
“Would you have killed me quick, dh’oine?” – Toruviel barked at him, stepping closer, arms still crossed.
“I wasn’t here to kill you. I just didn’t know who the hell you were. There’s bounties on a lot of elves, I was just trying to figure out whether you’re one of them. You’re not! He is tho.”
“You work for anyone?” – Dyaebl asked.
“Redanian special forces. Elf-hunters. There’s four of us in this forest. We split apart.”
“He’s too chatty.” – Toruviel indicated.
“You’re gonna kill me anyway, I’d rather avoid the torture.” – Man answered. “Was never a fan, really. Not receiving, not inflicting. Really. When I killed, I killed quick, not like other lads. I knew I’ll die on a job anyway, so I thought, maybe if I do it quick, someone will offer me same mercy.” – With the last sentence he looked up at Dyaebl again, and flinched.
“Anyone specific you’re tracking in this forest?”
“No. We just heard a commander from Drakenborg escaped through here. Figured we have to start somewhere.” – He spoke to his shoulder, unable to look at Dyaebl’s face, and afraid of what he might see in Toruviel’s.
Toruviel looked at Dyaebl questioningly. She couldn’t put the question to words, but there it was. Who could’ve passed through here?
Dyaebl shook his head, crouched down by the man, and pulled out his stiletto, and placed it against man’s heart:
“Would you have killed Toruviel anyway?”
“No, I would’ve done my best to sneak away, so she’d not kill me instead. I’m in this for the coin, I’ve no hate for your kind, elf.”
“Then why do you beg merciful death, and not life?”
“W-Why would I? Would you?... I tried to kill you.”
“If I’m not mistaken, you thought I’ll kill you, if you won’t kill me. A mistake we all make very often, I’m afraid. Say, what are the chances your brothers would find you here?”
The man looked up again. He squinted at Dyaebl’s face, making an effort to not look into his fake eye. Sweat beads were slowly but surely washing away the green stains on his face.
“If I bellowed loud, they couldn’t miss me.”
“So I guess you better.”
Dyaebl stood up, motioned for Toruviel to turn and walk with him. She said nothing, and Dyaebl knew her heart was in the right place. This one didn’t kill out of spite, not anymore. She walked with him in silence, not asking where they’re heading, why he let the man live, or why was he even there. After all, she was just as tired as he was.