Nine elves stood before him, each bearing subtle variations of the same emotion upon their faces: annoyance. Most, after having saluted, stood with arms crossed. He recognized Kkorrik, who stood on the far left and whose wandering gaze gave him a bored appearance.

"Movv Khaia," began the center elf, wiry and fair-haired. "With all due respect, surely you don't intend us to be under the command of that."

"It is the will of The Serpent," said Movv Khaia.

Vínmorr side-stepped the Movv and took one long stride to loom over the middle elf. Though his eyes widened, he did not shrink back from Vínmorr.

"Your name," Vínmorr asked, allowing a growl to emphasize his anger.

"Nóraash."

Observing the squinting glare of Nóraash's eyes, Vínmorr placed a hand on the elf's shoulder. Spinning him round to face the road, Vínmorr leaned down and rumbled in Nóraash's ear.

"Find me the maggot who serves me; the one who failed to prepare the tent for my arrival."

With a push, Vínmorr sent him several steps forward. Nóraash spun around, fists clenched at his side and body taut. His gaze shifted just beyond Vínmorr, where Movv Khaia still stood. The movv must have given a signal of some sort, for Nóraash released a sharp burst of air and stomped down the road.

The remaining Shekk-rima still showed resistance, but their stances were notably less defiant than they had been moments before; even Kkorrik seemed more focused on Vínmorr. Those who had crossed their arms, now stood with hands at their sides. Even so, Vínmorr could see the hatred in their eyes.

The feeling is mutual, little spear-nosers, he thought in amusement, using the elaborathin descriptor for elves - whose noses were far sharper than the broad, flat ones of Vínmorr's kin.

In short order, Nóraash returned with another elf trailing close behind him. He was small, even for an elf. When he came to stand before Vínmorr, the new elf wrung his hands and refused to make eye contact.

"You-" The remainder of his sentence never left Vínmorr's lips, for the pathetic servant nigh burst into tears, and spewed a string of drivel.

"Oh, please, mighy Shekk; have mercy on this poor soul. I didn't knows as that you'd be here afore this evening. Told you'd arrive on the morrow, I was. Ain't got no reason to do you wrong; I's only doin' as ordered. Jest you give ol' Ro another chance and I'll never fail you; I swear it by the might of The Serpent."

Vínmorr leaned down and studied the elf named Ro, who finally dared to look upon the elandhin's face. As Ro beheld Vínmorr, he released a squeak and averted his gaze once more. An idea stirred in Vínmorr's mind. Standing straight again, he spoke just above a whisper.

"Run."

Trembling, the little elf looked up into Vínmorr's face. His brows drew close and he tilted his head. Though he tried to stammer out a response, no intelligible words made it past his thick lips.

"Run," said Vínmorr once more, this time accompanied by a snarl.

Ro tripped over his own feet and fell flat on his back. He was down for but a moment, as he scrambled into an upright position. No sooner was he righted, than Ro fled down the road.

Vínmorr turned to Shígra and gave a sharp command. The moment the word left his lips, Shígra leapt to her feet and pursued Ro, who had not made it far. With a throaty yelp of excitement, she ploughed into him, sinking her teeth into his flesh. A shrieking wail rose in the air.

Vínmorr watched as his lerecht beheaded Ro with a quick snap of her jaws. As Shígra spat out the unsavory head and started working on the fleshy parts of Ro's corpse, Vínmorr looked back to the Shekk-rima who still stood before him.

Their jaws were hardened in grim lines and their eyes reflected a wariness.

While Vínmorr detested Khaia - and he was not fond of killing - he also knew that there was wisdom in the Movv's words. He did not care that the tent had not been prepared, nor even that the elves regarded him as below them. Vínmorr needed but one thing from those under his authority: a greater fear of him than of the enemy's swords, spears, and bows. Experience had shown Vínmorr that cruelty was often the quickest route to such an end.

He strolled before the Shekk-rima, looking at each one as he passed.

"If I find that there was any truth in that cur's words, you can be certain the punishment will be far worse for whoever gave the command." Here, Vínmorr paused and stared at Nóraash - who seemed to be the haughtiest of the Shekk-rima. As he resumed speaking, he continued his measured pace to the end of the line. "I will suffer no disobedience, even in small matters. You will obey my command, or you'll find yourself joining Ro on his crossing of the Great Chasm."

When he finished, Shígra returned from her sport, the corpse picked at but not consumed. She came to stand beside Vínmorr, her dark muzzle glistening by the light of the torches and lanterns which had begun to provide more light than the evening sky.

"Who commands the second shekk-rima?"

He had expected Nóraash to step forward. When Kkorrik stepped up and saluted, Vínmorr's brow ridge rose.

"We'll speak in the morning. I expect a thorough report and I'll see the ranks perform their drills."

"As you command, Shekk," Kkorrik's bored expression shifted and his eyes widened. "Forgive me, Shekk; I don't know how to address you."

"Drgogaal."

"Yes, Shekk Drgogaal." Kkorrik saluted once more and Vínmorr dismissed the Shekk-rima.

"Well done," said Movv Khaia from behind.

He felt a hand upon his upper arm and turned toward the Movv. Shígra released a low growl and stepped closer with hackles raised.

"Control that beast, would you?" Movv Khaia glared at Shígra and removed his hand from Vínmorr's arm.

Hushing the lerecht, Vínmorr gave her a command to lie down. With a faint whimper, Shígra complied.

"If you continue to follow my command and the training you've received, you will be rewarded." Movv Khaia paused and glanced at the surrounding area. "Come, there is something we must discuss."

He entered Vínmorr's tent again and sat upon the cot; Vínmorr stood.

"You might wish to know that Akkheron has selected you for a task beyond your duties as Shekk. I alluded to this in Chírek. However, I have not been forthcoming with all the details. The Serpent has used others of your kind on important missions with great success. It is his hope that you will follow in the steps of your brethren."

"This is in addition to leading the shekk?" Vínmorr expressed his confusion with as much tact as he knew how.

"Is that not what I said?" Movv Khaia's eyes glowed in the candlelight, looking like emeralds in beds of shale. "You shall have charge of the shekk. But there is something of greater import than your pathetic ranks. Those Narendhians stole an item of great value from our lord. We must retrieve it."

Vínmorr crossed his arms. "What could possibly be so important that The Serpent would send a lerecht-master to fetch it while the rest of his forces prepare for war?"

"You need not worry about gaining honour and glory," snapped Movv Khaia. It was the first time Vínmorr had seen the mask of calm slip from his face. Pressing the tips of his fingers together, Movv Khaia continued in his customary, smooth tone. "If you succeed, you will know wealth and luxury such as you have never dreamt. You may even gain the respect of some of the most prominent leaders in all Si-ol."

"What is it I am to retrieve?" Despite his efforts, Vínmorr leaned forward.

"That," Khaia paused, searching Vínmorr's face, "is a sensitive subject. What I am permitted to reveal is that this orb will cause the ruin of Si-ol if it falls into the wrong hands. We have many informants in Gael-Narenth who keep us apprised, but we have a special rat within the borders who has earned access to information on the orb's whereabouts. Raava has assured us that an opportunity will soon present itself for an effortless retrieval. We but await word on its present location."

"When can we expect word?"

"That is no concern of yours, Shekk Drgogaal. You need only make certain that your forces are ready when the time comes. When we receive word from Raava, you will be sent in pursuit."

Vínmorr gave a stiff nod. Movv Khaia stood then and stretched.

"I leave you to your own, to-night. I have many reports to review on the morrow, so I won't have time to coddle you. Make certain you use the part of your brain that was inherited from the tree demons to solve the problems you will undoubtedly face."

"Understood."

Once Movv Khaia departed, Vínmorr retrieved his belongings from Shígra's harness.

He then set to work on cleaning his dwelling place. As he did so, he pondered the informant that claimed to have the mysterious item well within reach. He wondered who 'Raava' was, and whether they could be trusted. All Akkheron's informants were called Raava - the Shekkholian word for rat - and only those highest in command of intel knew their identities; not even the gender or race was exposed.

They always seem to betray, he thought, picking up the little, ornate box. Let's hope this one hasn't decided to set a snare.

Flipping the lid open, Vínmorr saw a delicate silver ring set in black velvet. On the band was a small engraving which he recognized straight away - a runic star and a swirl that signified a flame. Rings bearing this symbol were for one purpose alone; they were given by Si-olian elves to the female of their choosing. They symbolized a male's desire to claim the she-elf for his own.

Shekk Graavin - executed for treason - had been prepared to wed. Vínmorr felt a frown settle over his features and, for reasons he could not explain, he tucked the box into his pack.

After this, Vínmorr scooped up fabric and metal and leather, dumping the articles back into the trunk. With a quick snap, he unfurled the blankets that had lain crumpled on the cot. He spread them on the ground; the cot would be too small for his frame. He surveyed the tidied space. Satisfied for the moment, Vínmorr retrieved his notebook from its place within his pack.

He spent several hours poring over his notes and crossing references in a small tome he had chanced upon some time prior. When he could no longer focus on the tiny, scrawling letters, Vínmorr closed the books and placed them back in their proper locations.

Releasing a sigh, he stretched out on his 'bed' of fabric. Vínmorr allowed his body to relax but kept his mind alert. So it was that in the dark hours of the morn, when Shígra exhaled a warning growl, he leapt from the ground and sprang to the entrance. When he pulled the flap aside, Vínmorr scanned the area and then looked to his lerecht for any signs of where the intruder was.

However, she cocked her head to one side and sniffed at the air. She glanced up at Vínmorr and his mouth twitched at the expression on her bestial face. He could almost believe that she looked apologetic. He swept his gaze over the nearby tents once more and then patted Shígra's head.

"It's fine, rhekka. We're both feeling the coils of the snake, to-night."

Upon entering his tent, Vínmorr felt his muscles tighten and he reached for the dagger he kept at his waist. At first, he saw nothing out of the ordinary, but he sensed something was not right. Then, he noticed it.

Lying in the middle of his blanket was a small, pale object. On further inspection, Vínmorr recognized it as a folded piece of parchment. With caution, he reached for the note and opened it. Two words stood bold on the page.

Beware Kkorrik.

Author's note: This chapter has been revised (as of 2021-05-22)