Chapter ?:
Martin looked over at his apprentice, Athor, who was fiddling with his different potions. He sighed. Why had the Scorpio given him, Martin, the job of killing the Traitors? How could a group of homeless, wanderers threaten the powerful Scorpio? Still, he had his orders: kill the Traitors, no matter the cost. Now Martin had never really been one for violence, but he obeyed orders. He wasn't even sure if he liked the Scorpio, and and their want to take over Mindiriath. He loved Mindiriath the way it was, the way it had been for hundreds of years, and didn't like to be on the "evil" side. However, he didn't have much choice. His whole family had sided with the Scorpio for hundreds of years, and he didn't want to destroy the line. But was it worth it? He truly hated the Scorpio and did not want to capture...much less kill, the Traitors at all. He looked back over at Athor.
"Pack those up." he ordered, indicating at the potions, "Let's go."
Athor jumped a little, and rambled some strange, foolish words as he carefully placed the little bottles back in his dusty bag. Then he jumped up and wobbled after Martin, babbling some old tune.
Martin rolled his eyes as he strapped his sword onto his belt and began walking out of camp. What am I going to do with him? he wondered to himself, thinking of the chubby Knollman behind him. Martin knew Athor was a great Alchemist who would probably be a helpful asset to him, but he had always had a distaste for Knollmen. He never liked their chubby little faces, or their little egg-like bald heads they always had covered with pointy-hooded cloaks. The worst part for him was looking down at a knee-high face when talking to Knollmen. Martin tried hard; however, to hide his distaste for Athor, as he had been told he would need him on his journey.
As he walked out his tent and through the camp, he received many bows and looks of admiration. I don't deserve this. he told himself, I don't even want to be here. He ignored the bows and walked through the camp to General Doran's tent. He entered, bowing low, and then rose to his feet, leaving Athor outside playing with his fingers.
"I am ready to leave." Martin said, looking up at Doran.
"Is the Knollman with you?" Doran asked him gruffly.
Martin tried not to show his feeling of utter annoyance at this question.
"Yes," he replied, "He's just outside."
"You will need him." Doran knew Martin disliked the little Knollman.
"I know." Martin lied, not wanting to anger the rash general.
Doran just nodded and dismissed him with a wave of his hand. Martin walked out of the tent.
"Come on." he motioned at Ashor to follow him, "Let's go see who our other companion will be."
They walked into another, smaller tent where someone was to be waiting for Martin. Stepping in, he saw Torill, a quick-tempered, broad-shouldered man who was a powerful swordsman, unlike himself, who was more of the agile, long, thin sword type of fighter. Martin wasn't exactly happy with having Torill as his other partner, but he was glad he was partnered with a human, and not another Knollman.
Torill bowed when Martin entered, and Martin just waited until he got up. He was annoyed right now and not in a very good mood.
"Are you ready?" Martin asked him once he had risen, "We are leaving as soon as possible."
Without waiting for an answer, Martin turned to leave. Torill grunted and followed him out the "door", eying the chubby Knollman suspiciously. Martin looked behind to make sure both men (if he could call them that) were there.
"Torill, go get the horses." Martin told him casually.
Athor started wobbling in circles like he did when he was bored.
Eventually, Torill came back with the horses; a swift, black one for Martin, and a broad, tan-colored one for himself.
Martin looked down disgustingly at Athor.
"Ride with him." he motioned towards Torill, who, reluctantly, picked the Knollman up and placed him in front of him on the horse.
"We ride east." Martin said, spurring his horse and trotting out of camp, and receiving another variety of bows and respectful gestures. He ignored them again, riding steadily.
When they had reached the edge of the camp, Torill stopped his horse, and he and Athor looked back over the camp.Martin refused to look back, keeping his back turned from the camp. He said nothing to hurry his companions on. He just stayed there and waited. He did not like what he was about to do.
* * *
Silm stopped walking at the top of a ridge, as the others caught up with her. They had been walking for a few hours, and Siri and the Twins were already tired. The Twins plopped down on the ground, playing with the grass. Silm pointed far away at a group of clouds past some mountains.
"There." was all she said, and everyone looked.
"You mean that's where we're going?" Siri asked critically, "That's where the Elves are?"
Silm nodded.
Siri just grunted and sat down.
"Let's rest here." Crimson suggested, sitting on the ground next to the Twins.
Lex stayed standing next to Silm, who had now sat down, her feet over the edge of the cliff, and Fo sat over by a tree, her wings folded. Mirial curled himself up in Silm's lap.
"I guess you're pretty excited about going to see the Elves, huh?" Lex asked Silm, sighing and looking in the direction she had pointed.
"No." she replied, "No, I'm not."
Lex knew Silm too well. He knew she wouldn't tell him why unless he asked, so he did.
"Why?"
"I just don't think I'll make a good leader to them." she sighed. She was still thinking of Ming's threat. She glanced back and saw him sitting by Crimson.
"Socoan seems to believe in you." Lex said, nodding his head at the name.
"He could have just as well picked you."
"No, He wouldn't." Lex said encouragingly,"I wouldn't make half as great a leader as you will." he smiled playfully, "Besides, He picked you, not me. He believes in you."
Silm just sighed and pet Mirial. She looked over at the clouds again, and confidence started to build in her heart. With the help of her friends the Traitors, maybe she could lead the leftover Elves after all.
* * *
