The History of Alliliel
Part XI
The winds whipped through the sharp, angular valleys of stone. Everything was white. Snowy, howling winds assaulted the land in a harsh, unyielding barrage. Small hollows by some trick of nature were spared the brunt of the weather’s attack. In a tiny one of these hollows, something moved.
A crack appeared in the snow. It enlarged slightly and then bowed out once before collapsing back onto itself. A moment later it appeared again, expanding outwards. A hand emerged, grasping for a handhold in the unforgiving snow.
As the weather continued it’s bitter attack on the stone valley, a small form emerged from the snowy hollow.
"This is no weather for an elf!" Alliliel thought as she surveyed the desolate wastelands around her.
Alliliel pulled her layered cloaks tightly around her as she put the two backpacks on her back and looked in the third. The rations were almost out and her water skins were nearly depleted. Tonight, if she did not find some help by then, she must make a fire and melt some snow, if any wood could be found.
With a look around to sense the directions, the small elf tightened her helm straps and made off to the north, her slight footsteps hidden by the rapidly falling snow almost as soon she made them.
---
If it were not for the faint glow of her magical mace, the elf would have been completely without some light.
Pausing amid the northern valley, she surveyed the land ahead. The stone valley would soon subside, and lead up to a plateau of some type. As far as she could see, there was no marked trail or path. The outfitter back in Highpass had told her the trail was plain to those who knew the Northman ways. Alliliel certainly didn’t know what that meant, but thought that perhaps there might be signs in their language.
The cloaks were the best she could afford, made of heavy leather with a fur lining. In the mild summer sun they had had in Highkeep, it seemed like more than enough for any cold weather she might meet. In the vicious winter of Permafrost, it seemed like being warm was a dream from long ago. The cold had made the leather cloaks stiff and unforgiving. They would not sit right and it was clear that they were tailored for a human and not an elf. The metal armor kept the chill close to her as she forged on; blustering winds cutting right through the cloaks as if they weren’t there.
With her eyes focused down in front of her, to prevent the snow from blinding her, she almost missed the approaching precipice. Stopping her weary walk, Alliliel surveyed the panorama before her.
Tall and white mountains rose in all directions behind her, opening out in front to the north. The land rose and the trees thinned as it continued north until all she could see was a huge plain of ice.
Scanning for a way down the sides of the mountains, the elf spied a glint of light off of something metal in the distance.
With a start, Alliliel picked her bags back up and hurried down the mountain as fast as her weary bones and the frigid weather would allow.
---
The elf peered through the telescope the gnome shop owner had sold her in Freeport. She spied a small encampment. Alliliel counted five men, two large dogs or wolves and some tents. They seemed to be heavily armored and equipped with many weapons.
"A war party." Alliliel said to herself as she spied on them.
"An it bein’ no bus’ness of yours, lass," was the last thing she heard before all went black.