Read Online The Fall of Dorkhun by D. A. Adams - Free Book Online Page B

underbrush as if it were mist. Suvene had to strain his eyes to keep her in sight, and he nearly had to run to keep her pace. After a few minutes, he was coated in sweat and panting. Finally, she stopped at the base of an ancient oak, its base over twice as wide as the one in which he’d slept. She made a sound like a nightingale and was answered by a hooting owl. She called again and a rope ladder was dropped. She motioned for Suvene to climb, and for a heartbeat, he hesitated, wondering if this night would be his last, but then she smiled softly, a look that melted his fears. He slid the daggers into his belt, refashioned the pike to his back, grabbed the ladder, and climbed.
    The ladder reached high into the tree, passing dozens of thick branches, and when he reached the end, a slender but muscular arm reached out to him. Still gripping the ladder with his left arm, he extended his right and grasped the offering. He was lifted onto a small platform and stood face to face with a male Loorish elf whose eyes ached with the sorrow of ages. Furrowing his brow, the elf stared at him, an expression somewhere between curiosity and hatred. Suvene looked away, suddenly unsure of his decision to climb up.
    Without a sound, the female appeared on the platform, rising from the ladder without assistance. Once she was there, the male turned a small handle and wound up the ladder. The female stood between them, facing the male, and Suvene had never felt more out of place. He had been foolish to follow her, and now, there was no telling what horrors he would face. The female must have sensed his fear, for she turned to him and smiled.
    “This is my father,” she said, her eyes gleaming. Suvene melted again.
    “Let’s get inside,” her father said sharply.
    He turned around and lifted a dark curtain, then stepped from that platform onto another. His daughter took Suvene’s hand, warning him to watch his step, and followed her father. The new platform was built in a ring around the tree, extending fifteen feet out. A solid rail four feet high surrounded the platform and had branches fastened to it from lower limbs. The branches were alive and well-pruned, and even in the darkness, Suvene saw they offered good camouflage. On the floor of the platform, various herbs and flowers grew in pots of all sizes, and their aromas mixing in the cool air was pleasant and relaxing. The father reached a doorway covered by another dark curtain, stopped, and turned to Suvene.
    “Leave those here,” he said, pointing with one hand at the daggers and then the pike and a small table against the base of the tree with the other.
    Suvene hesitated but then relented. Once the daggers were placed on the table and the pike was balanced against the trunk, the father went through the curtain inside. The daughter smiled at Suvene again and then moved after her father. The young orc, still hungry despite the handful of nuts, braced himself and followed.
    Inside, the room was lighted by several candles, and the lights danced and leapt from the curtain’s movements, casting strange shadows. The father went to the far end where a modest iron stove sat away from the tree trunk and the wooden walls. Suvene marveled at the effort it must’ve taken to hoist even that stove this high into the tree. The father stirred a pot, and to the starving orc, the smell was as intoxicating as the daughter’s eyes.
    “Have a seat,” she said, motioning to one of the two chairs.
    Suvene sat on the modest chair. It had been fashioned from branches woven together, and the seat and back were covered in cloth stuffed with feathers. The chair reminded Suvene of a bird’s nest, but as he settled, it was quite comfortable. He thanked his hosts, and the father grumbled a reply. The daughter went to another area and poured water from a bucket suspended from a branch that ran across the room and held up that section of ceiling. She glided back across the room and held out the wooden cup