Ben sat on the large, flat boulder with his legs crossed and his eyes closed. His hands rested on his knees and his lean body was relaxed. The dull, penetrating cold from the stone beneath him seemed to bite right through his jeans, soaking into his muscle and bones. Taking a deep breath, he blew it out slowly through his nose, then opened his eyes. The bright white of the snow dazzled him for a moment. He blinked several times letting his eyes adjust, then noticed the coyote. It sat perhaps a dozen feet in front of him, regarding him curiously. Not moving a muscle, Ben watched the creature back. It’s fur was a deep tan, with alert, upright ears and bright, inquisitive eyes- eyes that remained locked onto his. There was no sound, save the gentle whispering of the wind through the pine trees that surrounded the small clearing. The coyote suddenly looked over its shoulder, into the forest behind it. Ben flicked his eyes up to see what had attracted the creatures attention. The pine forest stood silent and empty.
Glancing back down, he noticed that the coyote was gone, as if it had never existed. With a slight frown, he looked around, then leaned forward and peered at the snow. There were no tracks in the snow- no sign at all that the coyote had ever existed. Ben raised his eyes again to the pines, as a dark armored figure stepped into sight.
Calmly, he watched the figure approach with a snakelike grace. It was dressed in the dark armor of the Shen’tin- the legendary elven assassins. His skin was fair, and his hair a light blonde, with fine features and almond shaped, emerald green eyes. In the man’s hand, he carried a thin, unsheathed sword. The elf hunter approached to within a dozen paces of Ben and stopped. There was silence for a moment as the two adversaries regarded each other, then the elf spoke.
“So. You are the one they call ‘Coyote’.” The elf stated this in a calm, matter of fact tone. “Benjamin Franklin Yazzie, formerly of the United States Marines.”
“I am.” Ben answered calmly. “And you are Lord Tenrin, I presume.”
The elf-lord inclined his head in acknowledgement, then looked around at the lonely forest. “I did not expect to find you alone. My sources said that you and your band of warriors would defend this place ferociously.” Tenrin gestured at the stone upon which Ben sat. “Is that a stone of power?”
“No.” Ben replied. “It’s just a rock.” He gestured around at the clearing, the trees and the snow that was falling faster now. “But this place has been known to my family for hundreds of years. We come here seeking the guidance of our ancestors and to see visions of the spirits.”
“My mages assure me that you are alone.” The elf-lord stated. “It seems that I have you at the disadvantage.”
“So it seems.”
Regarding him curiously, Tenrin asked, “Yet, you do not seem frightened. Most humans are, when confronted by the Shen’tin. You cannot hope to overpower my magic or my skill with a blade.”
“Perhaps.” Ben straightened his shoulders, and added, “But I have eluded you for almost a year now and we have killed many of your soldiers.”
“And yet, here you sit, apparently helpless. Waiting for your death. Curious.” The elf tilted his head at Ben as he sat on the rock. “I do not think you have the wherewithal to lay a trap. The magic of House Dondarion is far too strong for whatever simple tricks you may try.” HE raised his sword in a formal salute, “It has been a thrilling year, hunting the feared ‘Coyote’. I bid you good fortune in whatever afterlife you believe in.” He stepped forward, raising the blade.
Ben held up a hand, and said simply, “Listen.”
The assassin looked at the seated man, and cocked his head, listening. For several long moments, there was nothing. Then, in the distance, there was a terrible roar, then ended in a pain filled wail that faded out.
The elf looked at Ben, the color draining from his face. “Was that…”
“Yes. Your beast has fallen. Baltheron the Dread.” Ben regarded the elven warrior for a moment longer. “I suspect that your dragonmagi and the soldiers with him are dead or dying by now too.”
“No.” Tenrin said in a low tone. “No. It cannot be. You cannot have killed a black dragon and a score of my best men. It is not within your power” He shook his head, confidently. “It is a trick. It must be a trick.” He raised the blade again. “Pick up your blade, warrior.” He gestured to the Ka-Bar knife strapped to Ben’s right thigh.
“Allow me to tell you a story, My Lord.” Ben spoke calmly. “When I am finished, we will duel, if that is your wish.” Tenrin’s eyes flickered uncertainty, then he nodded curtly.
“When I returned from our world’s version of the Winter War, in a place called Afghanistan, I was a broken young man. I was full of anger and sorrow. Anger at a war where we won every battle, but sorrow that we lost the war. We lost many good Marines in those mountains. Men whose spirits will roam forever lost.”
Tenrin regarded him silently. Ben continued. “I returned home to my family. My mother insisted that I call to speak to someone, but I was a Marine! A warrior! Warriors didn’t need that. Warriors didn’t need mind doctors and medicines. I wallowed in my sorrow for a long time, when one day I had a dream. A coyote appeared to me, telling me that I was to go see my great grandfather. He was a warrior too, in a terrible war long ago we humans call the Second World War. He fought a fanatic enemy that believed itself to be a superior race to all others, and tried to force their will on the world by strength of arms. Coyote told me to seek his wisdom for the fight to come.”
Lowering the point of the sword, Tenrin silently motioned for the young man to continue.
Ben tilted his head, accepting the invitation and continued, “When I woke up, I was unsure. Coyote is a trickster. He is a deceiver and likes to cause mischief and pain for people.” Ben shifted slightly on the bone chilling rock. “I considered it for a long time, then hiked out to my grandfather's grave. I spent a long time there, and nothing happened. I sat, becoming angrier and angrier and feeling like a fool. Right as I stood to go, I found myself falling. I fell for a long time and when I landed, it was on black, grainy sand. There were men all around me frozen where they stood. It was a battle. Soldiers were fighting, killing and dying, but all frozen as if time had stopped.” Ben watched the elf-lord intently as he spoke. The assassin seemed enthralled. The young man continued. “Suddenly I saw him. A young man,that looked familiar to me. A Native, not one of the white soldiers fighting and dying around him. He was crouched in a foxhole, with the bodies of his enemies around him and one of his brother Marines dead at his feet. I realized in that moment that it was my grandfather as a young warrior. He suddenly looked at me and said, ‘Shichai, you must cleanse the evil you brought home from the war. You must purify yourself for the battles yet to come.’. I was astounded. Grandfather gestured around him and said , ‘When your time comes to do battle, know that your ancestors are watching over you.’. I said to him, ‘Grandfather, I have already done battle. I wish no more war!’. He only shook his head and said, ‘Whether you wish it or not, war sometimes finds us. You must stand ready to defend your people against merciless enemies.’ I cried out in surprise for him to explain to me, and then suddenly I was back in the cemetery and the sun was coming up in the east.”
The elf lord regarded the young man for a moment, then spoke, “What did it mean? In our culture, dreams can sometimes mean great and terrible things.”
Nodding, Ben replied. “Our cultures share that, my lord. I went to the medicine man, and he performed an Enemy Way ceremony. It brought me peace, for a time.” Ben looked past the elf, into the pines. “Ah. Here we are. Time to get back to work.” He stood, feeling the cold in his legs.
Lord Tenrin whirled, raising his sword. From the forest, four figures emerged. Two of the men had the same dark complexion, similar features and black hair as Ben, and carried rifles. The third man was shorter, with angular cheekbones and a flat, cold expression on his face. In his hand he carried a bundle that looked like a dead animal. Small drops of blood dripped onto the snow. The fourth figure was a women, dressed in warm winter clothing, her dark hair pulled back into a thick braid. She carried a bow, and had a quiver over her shoulder. Tenrin assumed a fighting position and declared, “You face a lord of the Shen’tin- the Emperor’s Assassins! Who wishes to die this day?”
The woman answered, “No more shall die this day. Enough blood has been shed.” She looked at the cold faced man. “Angelo?”
The hard faced man tossed the sodden ball at Tenrin’s feet without a word. In horror, Tenrin’s realized that it was the scalps of his men that had been left guarding the black dragon. The man reached into his pack and dropped a single, meter long dragon’s claw next to the pile of bloody tissue and hair. The white of chopped bone and red of torn flesh stood out against the black scale and ebony sheen of the claw.
Ben spoke. “My lord.” Tenrin turned to face the young man, his face pale. “I called you here to send a message to your Lord-Governor.”
With effort, Tenrin nodded and forced out the words, “What message may I deliver?”
“Tell your Lord-Governor that all reprisal attacks on civilians will cease immediately throughout the Southwest Territories. Should any further reprisals occur, remind him how the Coyote managed to lure the head of his Imperial Intelligence into an ambush that resulted in a score of dead Shen’tin and the loss of the ancient House Dondarion dragon Baltheron the Dread.” Tenrin nodded, wordlessly.
The woman added in a neutral tone, “You are also to remind him that we know where his family lives, and that if he thinks they are safe because of his magics…” She nodded meaningfully at the scalps and rendered claw on the ground. “Remind him that there are still those of us here that remember the old ways.”
Licking his lips, Tenrin looked at the faces of the small group, then nodded. He turned to Ben. “May I leave?”
“Of course.” Ben pointed south. “Interstate 40 is about ten miles south. You will be able to find an orc patrol easily enough. They can take you to the garrison in Flagstaff.”
With a nod, Tenrin turned to leave in silence. He took several steps then turned and spoke in an even tone, “We will meet again, Benjamin Franklin Yazzie. I can assure you of that.”
With a slight smile, Ben replied. “I am counting on it, my lord.” The elven assassin turned without a further sound, walked into the forest and vanished into the snow covered pines.